#Ofc there's It Was All Just A Dream and Shocking Deaths and why they usually do not work

[hypermascbishounen]

Well, probably because Greed's character arc led to that moment organically and closed in a natural way, that also lined up with fma's themes and story. So even when it was not necessarily expected or mandated and was tragic, it was still emotionally satisfying as a character conclusion.

Vs. While dying was always a possible conclusion to Tomura's arc, the way it was executed comes across as a cheap and anticlimactic shock death, bc it just unceremoniously cuts off not only Tomura's storyline - leaving a lot of emotional threads with Tenko, the Shimuras, and his side of the AFO plot, just kinda frayed - but also helps trash-can a lot of bnha's own themes. It doesn't work as a tragedy, because it throws the audience out of the story, with a sense their time was just wasted.

There's just too much build up around Tomura that suddenly feels like it goes nowhere in hindsight with this conclusion. And worse, it makes entire aspects of bnha in general feels like they never mattered. This isn't just a problem with Tomura when it comes to bnha's ending, but he's at the center of it - that the power of reaching out is repeatedly sold to the audience as worth it and necessary for a better future, and then literally is not the solution to the problems posed at all, the end, with no explanation for why the story would conclude on a really obvious and boring lesson.

Ofc we know that reaching out isn't always realistic and doesn't always work in real life. We live in the real world. That's not a profound or satisfying revelation, because the audience is not naive, and this ending despite seeming to be a mature, sobering, or "realistic", is actually the more infantalizing ending compared to everyone surviving imo. Bnha did not build up to a cathartic tragedy about the futility of trying your best, so it didn't earn this ending, and it falls pretty flat.

The truth is, despite the veneer of "reality" this very very literally is "and it was all just a dream!" as a conclusion, lol. We were enjoying a vision, and it ended in "no none of that was relevant actually the end". There's a reason It Was All A Dream is typically advised against, and it's not because it's "silly", it's because it makes the audience feel their time was wasted, bc the conclusion undoes most of the build up to it in most cases. That's why it's usually reserved for surrealism, or stories with consistent themes of time being wasted in itself.

Greed's death, meanwhile, is the theme of fma, and is immediately echoed in the following climax. The theme of fma is Truth, and the truth that Arakawa is selling to the audience is that human connection is the meaning of life. Greed breaks his code of never lying in order to give his life for Ling and everyone else, because Ling matters even more to him. He was searching for the feeling of human connection his whole life and when he finds it he realizes it's genuinely worth giving up his semi-immortal life to protect. He realizes he is not inherently selfish, and commits to an ultimate sacrifice, which is a strong character arc and conclusion for someone called Greed, even if it is tragic.

But more than that, the following series of events is on the same theme: Father's ultimate sin that sends him back to the hell from whence he came, was his eschewing of connection to others in favor of trying to elevate himself above everyone to control them, and avoid being vulnerable. Ed passes the final test of the gate of truth, by giving up his gate and ability to do alchemy, because he doesn't need the power when he has his friends. Hoenheim also gives his remaining life to the children he wanted to be there for, and wants to outlast him, because his love for them matters most. That is what full metal alchemist is about. That's why it has a strong and satisfying ending. All roads led to this, and it was the authors message to the audience. The truth is human connection.

By comparison, the equivalent of Greed's scene in bnha by narrative position is actually not Tomura's death. It's Bakugo's resurrection. That's the big emotional turning point set up that should lead into the rest of the final act. Bakugo being revived is narratively satisfying, because it's perfectly in line with the themes and his character arc. Bakugo goes all out against an opponent he knows could beat his ass and gets his heart exploded, but it's ok because other people reach out to help him and Bakugo no longer feels like needing saving is shameful like he used to. He integrates what he's learned from Midoriya, and the story actually set up this pay off. It would make no thematic sense to actually have Bakugo just die here.

And that should have been the prelude to an even stronger echoing of themes in the following series of events, the same way Greed's sacrifice does in fma. Unfortunately, that is not what happened. For whatever reason - probably a thoroughly misguided sense that audiences just want to be surprised more than they want a coherent narrative - Hori decided to swerve down an honestly tepid and thematically jarring ending. Things end not with a bang but a whimper, and instead of satisfaction, even cathartic tragic satisfaction, much of the audience will be left feeling vaguely dissapointed, like the point to them being there was missing. In conclusion, Hori left his story feeling like he had nothing to say to people with it, which is a shame because people were really invested in what he was already saying!

I'm super sick right now but I want to put this out there maybe somebody with more energy can take a crack at it

I love Fmab and I've been subconsciously comparing mha to it as the story goes on (afo and father, how well they execute their overalls themes,comparing Roy and Endeavor's atonement arcs, etc) and something that struck me is the similar aspects of the final battle (ie everyone coming to help defeat the big bad, the final punch, the protagonist giving up a power that meant so much to them) and something that struck me is how greed's death compares to Tomura's obviously they're different characters and have different roles in the narrative but both have their bodies possessed by the big bad, both actively help weaken the big bad to aid the protagonist and both die. But greed's death is so much more satisfying as an end to his character than Tomura's, it's so much more impactful.

Idk there's definitely something to expand upon there something to sink your teeth into but I'm too sick right now you guys get what I'm saying though right? Pls I really wanna talk about this with somebody 🥺

[williamaltman]

Ok so I've finally finished "Aristotle & Dante Dive into the Waters of the World" (a few days ago now).

I'm gonna start with: I got so fucking scared towards the end when they "broke up" and Dante didn't talk to him for weeks and left. God I think not many stories have ever made me feel like that. I think I actually have a bit of a trauma with one in particular that went like that and, actually followed up on not giving me a happy ending.

I was tired but I wasn't sure how I was gonna sleep with that in my mind, until Ari said he was going to Paris and so I knew I could have some hope.

Tbh I had a few more issues with this one than the first. I talked about it before but I didn't really like how it sort of pushed the idea that you HAD to come out to your friends even if you don't feel ready. I also felt like sometimes there wasn't enough Dante? I like Ari's friends and all, but these books are called Aristotle AND DANTE.

I also feel like, in a way, all the characters are a bit too articulate? Maybe too mature even? In the first book I didn't mind it as much cause it was just Ari and Dante themselves, plus their moms I guess, but here Gina and Susie are more relevant and there's Cassandra and Ari's father talks a lot more and there's more stuff like his mom arguing with other people, and it was just like... Well I guess it would be nice if most people were like that in real life, but they're really not...

That aside though, it was obviously still amazing. One thing I liked was Ari actually being gay and that term being used throughout? I usually don't mind when certain characters are mlm without their specific sexuality being stated, and ofc bi/gay couples are nice too, but I feel like sometimes in fiction it ends up being a bit more rare to have couples with two gay guys even though that's what's more common in real life.

I also love how fucking horny he was at the beginning lol. Like this actually felt realistic, and even though there's no smut or anything, it's not something that's just ignored or pushed aside.

I felt like Dante felt a bit more realistic in this book. He's moody so many times and I think his flaws are more visible and so it feel less like he's just there to be Ari's perfect manic pixie dream girl (though I'll say he's still one, affectionately).

Something I thought when I finished the first book was how cool it would probably be to see their parents reacting to their relationship. And that was indeed really cute. I think Dante's mom is my favorite of them all. And on the topic of the parents, Ari's dad's death? That was a complete shock to me. I wasn't expecting it at all. It came out of nowhere but it was honestly really interesting to have Ari and his mom deal with that grief, and that whole section is probably, in a weird way, one of my favorite parts of the book.

Another interesting thing was how much the AIDS crisis in the backdrop affected the book. I remembered when they flashed to that in the movie and I was confused at how random it seemed, but now I can kinda get why. I thought it was the best they could do by making it matter to the characters even though they probably wouldn't and shouldn't be actually affected. It's kinda funny to me how I decided to read this sometime close to when I watched Fellow Travelers that also featured that into the story, cause it's honestly not something I've thought about as much before.

Something that was really important was the closure between Ari and his brother. I'm not gonna say it bothered me exactly, because it was understandable, but it was just always kind of an ick for me that Ari cared so much about him knowing he was there because he killed someone in a hate crime. So the way their reunion went down was actually perfect for me and gave me a much needed relief just like it did for Ari. I feel like the writer probably felt the need to address it too because of the stuff people were saying about the first book due to this plot point, but even if that was why I still felt like the way things were handled felt natural. Their parents had already given up on him, he was never gonna accept Ari and I didn't want for Ari to stay caring about him by just not telling him or something.

I know the ending is a bit vague and doesn't like reeally explain every little thing, but the message felt clear enough to me, in that it was meant to tell us that things will be alright and that they're not just gonna let their love slip through their fingers or run away from it. Ari coming in with the wedding and honeymoon talk? Got me.

It still feels kinda weird that it's really over because it had honestly become so much of a habit to read these almost every day in bed. These books were probably the easiest thing for me to read and just flowed so naturally. I know people have already said that, but they really do feel like a way to celebrate life despite all the hardships in it and you can feel that love through the pages.

[justjams2003]

Blossoms- 14

Pairing: Erik Destler x OFC (Mariposa Claremont)

Summary: A young author travels away from her family to The Opera she has heard so much about. She is lost and confused and yet still seems to get a job there as a cleaner. Yet when she meets a mysterious man there, everything changes. Her mind is entirely consumed, but will she allow her burning need for him to consume her life as well?

Warnings: Teasing, singing (it is a PotO fanfic so that is to be expected...), mentions of the death of a grandparent, parent issues, talk of patriarchy, alcohol. Tell me if I miss any

Word count: 2,1k

Masterlist

Part 13~Part 15(coming soon)

Dividers: @yaynowimglad @animatedglittergraphics-n-more

Tags: @rclector @jordanmunson3 @ann-vic-9 @ssssssws-world @gryffin-whore

“Mariposa Claremont.” Before I can utter another word, I can see the recognition in his eyes. His face forms into this wide grin, that seems like he could get away with anything. “No way, Claremont?” He chuckles and then takes a big sip of his bear. The foam clings to his top lip and he licks it off, then he hums. Then he holds out his hand for me to shake.  

“Elliott O'Murphy.” My eyes go wide and if my cheeks weren’t already pink from the cold, they are now. “My parents have been like trying to marry you to my older brother for like, forever.” He laughs and shakes his head. I sigh and roll my eyes, just my luck to meet the man I’ve been trying to avoid’s brother. “Please tell me you’re not as obnoxious as he is.” I say, scratching my scalp as I cringe.  

Again he laughs, “Trust me, I feel about him the same as you do. He’s been fed with a silver spoon all his life and he believes the sun shines out of his ass.” He places his hand over his chest to show his sincerity. “And you don’t?” I ask, raising a brow and placing my hands on the pint of beer.  

“Let’s just say I prefer to avoid saying my last name.” I smile at that comment since I relate so much. I then take a sip of the beer. It burns down my throat and leaves a sour taste in my mouth. “Eww, who drinks this?” I say, coughing and sticking out my tongue. He lets out a boisterous laugh which makes that an embarrassed smile slowly creeps onto my face.  

“You’ve never had beer before?” He says, his eyes wide in shock. “No! I don’t usually go into the areas of town where beer is drunk, like this place...” I say, looking around at this dirty pub. Drunkards play dice and a bard sings terribly off tune and people can’t help but glare at him.  

“Ohh, okay, I see, so you’re like Carson. You two fit together perfectly! Too pompous for the peasants of France.” He says dramatically, and I can’t help but gasp and shake my head. “No, nothing like that! It’s just, I’m a lady and don’t take part in such activities as drinking myself stupid.” I say, then directly after taking a sip of my beer, trying to get used to the sour yeast taste.  

He too raises his brow, “Ladies also don’t usually cry in piles of trash at night in the rain.” I just huff at his response, knowing he’s right. After all, my stupid unladylike acts are what got me in this situation in the first place. “How exactly did you end up, you know, crying on a pile of trash?”  

I sigh and lean my head against my hand. “Well, I work at the opera house, chasing the dream!” I say, lifting my beer as if to celebrate what people rarely have the guts to do. “And uh, let’s just say that I really need to learn how to keep my big mouth shut. So I’ve basically kicked myself out of the only place I had to live...”  

We both take a sip from our beer. “Why not go home?” He ask with a shrug and I scoff. “That is exactly what I can’t do! I can’t let my parents know that I basically failed on what I set out to do. That’ll really go to their head and before I know it, I’ll be birthing your nephews.” I pout taking another sip. “Oh yeah and we can’t have that.” Again I just sigh and roll my eyes, I’ve just met him but he so easily plays banjo with my nerves.  

“Why are you here then? Shouldn’t you be... doing whatever it is that your family does?” I ask and he laughs at me having no clue how his family has got their fortune. “Well, you see I was not raised by my pretentious parents and rather by my grandmother. And she refuses to leave France.”  

I can’t help but let my brows furrow. “Why? And your grandfather?” “Well, if you bothered to learn family history or care about someone other than yourself, you’d know he’s dead. And my grandmother was Prima Ballerina at the Opera House. I suppose this is where she feels most home. And I come to visit between working on the shipping ships. Which is what we do, by the way. Transport goods.”  

That’s new. And actually very beautiful. Touching, I wish I had that type of connection with someone in my family. “I do care about others.” I reply back, with a shrug. “I just can’t make them a priority. It’s a difficult world for a young girl like me. Woman will always be put second, I’ll just have to put myself first.”  

“The fact that, that is what you choose to focus on just proves a point.” I just shrug my shoulders. I am kind, yes, I’ll help other’s out if they ask, but I won’t put anyone else above myself. “I-” Right at that moment the bard hits another terrible note. Both Elliott and I cringe at the noise.  

Then he gets a terribly mischievous grin. “You work at the opera house, why don’t you sing us something?” I blush and shake my head. Looking down at the bubbles in my drink. “Oh come onnn, anything can be better than him.” He says, dragging out his words to encourage me. Again I shake my head, but he insists by standing  up, coming to my side of the table and pulling me from my seat.  

“Elliott!” I squeal, being picked up and placing me on my feet. I glare, looking up at him. “I’m gonna go tell him you want a turn.” He says, his cheeky grin growing bigger. “I am begging you not to.” I grab him by his wet coat and he seems to think for a moment before seeming to give up.  

I thought. Until he steps up on the table. “My son John was tall and slim and he’d a leg for ev’ry limb!” And then suddenly, because somehow everyone in the pub knows this song, sings back at him. “But now he’s got no legs at all for he ran a race with a cannon ball! Timmy roo dun da, fadda riddle da!” I’ve got no idea what they’re singing!  

All of them are at least a little tipsy and at most about to piss themselves. But still they sing back with slurred words and a big smile on their faces. They stomp on the floor and slam down their own pints of beer to make a beat for the song they’re singing. It doesn’t seem to need any music, only the drunkan chants. And when they seem to finish their song, their cheer and clap.  

“Another!” Someone yells and Elliott smirks looking down at me, smirking, while I blush bright red. “A song from the lady?!” He calls out and they all cheer. I almost die from shock. “Elliott!” I’ve never met anyone bolder than me and now that I have I can’t seem to keep up.  

He holds out his hand, which no longer has gloves on, urging me on as everyone demands for more. I cave, why not have a little fun? I slip my hand in his, it’s rough, like someone who’s worked hard all their life. But when I’m standing up on the table and all these people are looking up at me, I freeze.  

I look up at Elliott’s stormy grey eyes, who flicker with joy. “I don’t know any songs that they’d like.” He scoffs and groans. “Come on, you must know something!” He encourages and I just sigh. In panic, the only thing I can think of is one of my maids, who would watch me when my mother couldn’t, which was always. She used to sing to me when I would beg and beg to hear some sort of music.  

“Look how the light of the town, the lights of the town are shining now. Tonight I’ll be dancing around. I’m off on the road to Galway now.” Before I know it Elliott is joining me, commanding the bard to play the tune on his flute. Then, the drunken men join me. I mumble over the Irish parts of the song, not that anyone really notices. Elliott takes my hand in his and we dance across the table. His hand is warm. 

I don’t hold back my smile or singing. When I sing and dance there is no control. Just the free flow of movement and music. Who would want to have power of something bigger than yourself? There is no dominating music. There is no mastery and there never will be. Only energy, flowing from you to those around you and back. And anyone who dare tries to command it should be punished for believing they ever could.  

When the song is finished, again everyone cheers. I turn to Elliott, he looks so confident. He’s not afraid to be seen, be perceived. As if he’s never been shamed in his life. Like he’s never had to deal with pressure to be perfect, just to be happy. His broad shoulders are relaxed and his wide smile seems to freeze time.  

“Get of the table, vous deux idiots!” The waitress yells behind us. “Allez Judith, ne sois pas si aigrie. On s'amuse juste un peu!” Elliott replies and I can barely keep up with their quick French. “Are you going to clean the table then?” The waitress asks with a pointed look, crossing her arms.  

Elliott winces, then climbs off, holding his hand out for me too to settle my feet on the floor. “No can do, we’ve got to get going.” He turns to the window, it’s stopped raining, I didn’t even notice. “How much do we owe you?” He asks, pulling out a pouch of money. She sighs and rolls her eyes.  

“5 Francs per piece.” Elliott pulls out the exact amount then they both kind of just stare at me. “Oh! Right.” I feel for my money in the pockets of my dress, until I remember, I left everything back in the Opera House. I wince and look up at my new friend. “I left it all back there...” He just sighs and hands the waitress another five Francs.  

“Now come, grand-maman is already going to be mad at me for bringing a guest without telling her. We don’t want to make her any angrier by being late.” He says, holding the door open for me. “You’re letting me come with?” He nods, “My grand-maman would be furious if she found out I let you sleep in here.”  

I can’t help but chuckle, such a bold man covering in front of his grandmother. I smile at him, “Thank you.” Again he sighs and this time scratches his neck. “You’re not all that bad. Nowhere near as bad as Carson. Almost bearable.” A sweet moment ruined again. “I shouldn’t have told you who I am.” I sigh, once again stepping on his hand to climb up on the horse’s back.  

“Yeah but you did. And I’m really enjoying it to tease you.” Again I sigh and just roll my eyes. It’s so strange. It’s rare for me to talk to a guy at the Palais Garnier. All the maids are women and I share a room with the ballet girls. It’s only Erik and I can’t really joke with him like this. He’s sensitive and rigid at the same time.  

I can’t get through to him and at the same time he takes everything to the heart. He’s so contradicting... But I guess I am too. I say I was raised to be ladylike and then dance on tables singing with drunk men I don’t know. I say I care about other’s, but don’t give Erik a chance to change... But I shouldn’t. He’s being immature. Telling me who I can like and who I can’t.  

“You shouldn’t frown like that.” I scoff, of course he has something to say. “You shouldn’t tell me what to do.” Now it’s his turn to scoff. “Brave of you to say to someone who’s giving you a place to say.” I huff and pout, how is he always right? “You just have to have the last say.” I mumble under my breath. “You’re quick to make assumptions of me.” He sounds almost offended?  

“Am I right?” I ask, peering down at him. He just scoffs and shakes his head. “No, if I’m wrong I’ll admit it. But I rarely am so...” I snipe back at him. “Okay, yeah, such a delight to be around.” I mumble and now he snipes back. “Says the spoiled brat.” “Wow! Alright, I see how it is.”  

The whole way to his grand-maman goes like this. He makes a comment, I retort back, until eventually we both just kind of...laugh about it...? I like seeing him smile, I wouldn’t mind seeing more of his smile...  

If you want to be in the taglist, just ask!

[cocomeow]

Today was such a horrible day, I still have a little bit of a hard time to feel normal after that. Thankfully it was just a shock, nothing bad happened, but wow...

TW: Assumed death, general death mentions

Okay, first off let's start with that everything is fine now, Coco is doing good. I'm not religious, but thank god. But seriously, today was traumatizing. Few hours ago, she took a nap on the rug. Everything seemed normal, she was okay. Suddenly after like half an hour, I just heard her clashing against EVERYTHING, I seriously thought it was a seizure or something like that. Immediately my sister and I ran to her, and see her curled up on the floor, paws against the cone. She was not responding for a minute or so, no matter how often we called her or tried to touch her. Then we discovered that she tore off the bandage on her surgery wound. Like a minute later or so, she THANKFULLY woke up. We seriously thought she passed away, holy shit that was SO frightening. Idk if she still was asleep (?) or kinda in panic mode, so that's maybe why she was not reacting to anything. I guess she was jumping around like crazy cause of the pain of the bandage coming off? Maybe it glued itself off while switching positions when she was asleep, cause of it maybe sticking onto the rug fibers. Anyways, all is good now, we contacted our vet aswell and we should just keep her warm, calm and clean. I'm so relieved that she is ok.

I usually am often in a state of anxiety, cause I was like, constantly unhealthily worried that she would suddenly pass away, ever since we got her. I even dreamed several times of her dying. Because of this I had for like, the first month or so, slight attachment issues, cause I feared she would be gone sooner than I thought. Ofc I loved her immediately, but I always had that fear of her passing suddenly and it felt a bit awkward to own a pet, cause what IF. It's gotten much better now, but today was JUST like those days that I initially feared, so it didn't help with my fears... But that's the risk of life, it always could end immediately for anyone.

Anyways, thanks for reading if you made it up until here, I just kinda had to write down this experience. It's so exhausting to have most thoughts be surrounded in negativity and "end of the world" scenarios.

[dracowars]

could u write where draco and y/n tells scorpius how they met, their relationship etc etc throughout hogwarts ☹️☹️ and scorpius is just like omg :O and maube y/n can be a hufflepuff so like a super cute slytherpuff relationship ARGH (ofc u dont need to do it 👍🏻 no pressure!! have a great day 🤍)

undying love | draco malfoy

pairing: draco x hufflepuff!reader

word count: 1,5k

summary: where draco and y/n tell scorpius about their love story

a/n: i love family tropes :( thank you for sending this in! <3

warnings: none

universe: harry potter

“Mommy, look what I found!”, your son calls for you through the house and shortly afterwards you can hear him coming down the stairs at an unbelievable speed, running to you in the kitchen. With a cup of tea and the latest edition of the Daily Prophet, you sit at the dining table and look at Scorpius as he walks towards you with what looks like a photo in his tiny hands.

“Look, look!”, Scorpius says excitedly while placing the moving picture on the table in front of you. A gentle smile forms on your lips as you take a closer look. The magical photo shows Draco, your friends and you at your graduation from Hogwarts so many years ago. You proudly hold your certificates in front of the camera, the traditional graduation hats on your heads, waiting for the enchanted boats, that took you to Hogwarts prior to the start of your very first year, ready to leave Hogwarts forever.

At the sight, beautiful memories of your school days come up inside of you and you have to hold back a sob until you notice that Scorpius’ big, interested puppy eyes are still on you.

“Yes, that is us, Scorpius darling”, you smile at him gently and pull him onto your lap in order to take a closer look at the picture together.

“But Mommy had completely different hair then!”, Scorpius giggles and points at your former self, which is smiling brightly into the camera with Draco’s arm tightly embracing you and pressing you against him. “And the hats look funny!”

“That is true. The photo was taken several years ago. It was when we graduated from Hogwarts. You know, in a few years, you will be going there too. It is a special school for Witchcraft and Wizardry. It is for young magicians, to teach them everything they need for their life in the Wizarding World”, you explain to your son, whose gaze is still fixed on the photo.

“Mommy and Daddy have been a couple for that long?”, Scorpius marvels at your words and averts his gaze as he shifts on your lap to look up at you. Kissing him on the forehead, you smile and nod.

Before you can tell him more about it, however, the slamming of the front door announces that Draco is back home.

“Daddy!”, Scorpius immediately exclaims excitedly and hops down from your lap, takes the photo from the table and rushes to the entrance. Because of Draco’s following laughter coming from the hallway, Scorpius must have happily thrown himself around his father’s neck as he usually does as a welcome.

With Scorpius in his arms, your husband finally walks into the kitchen while Scorpius is babbling incoherently. Not quite sure what it is about, Draco just smiles before greeting you with a tender kiss before putting Scorpius back down on your lap.

“Look, Daddy! Look what I found! That is you!”, your son giggles and hands Draco the photo. A big grin immediately decorates his lips when he looks at the picture and he sits down at the table with you.

“Oh yes, it really is us. But we were still pretty young then”, Draco chuckles and Scorpius fidgets on your lap, wanting to know as much as possible while leaning forward.

“How was it at Hogmarts?”, Scorpius asks innocently and due to the misnomer, you and Draco can’t help but giggle in unison before Draco softly tousles your son’s white hair, which he naturally inherited from his father.

“It was a great time that I would not want to miss for anything in the world. If I had not gone there, I would have never met Mommy”, Draco explains, getting Scorpius’ full attention. “Just wait until you are eleven years old. You will experience incredible adventures that you would not even dare to dream of right now.”

“Eleven?!”, Scorpius huffs out in shock and puts on an offended expression while crossing his arms in front of his body. “That is too long! I want to go there now.”

“I am afraid you will have to wait a little longer, but I am sure that you will become a great wizard someday”, you reassure Scorpius, although you feel a little nervous inside. Yes, you have had wonderful adventures that ultimately made you stronger. Still, most of them were extremely dangerous, and it was not just once that you skipped death.

“Once you are in Hogwarts, you have to make sure to get into Slytherin”, Draco mentions, earning a shocked expression from you.

“No way! Scorpius will definitely be a Hufflepuff. I mean, look at him!”, you deny your husband’s statement and softly squish your son’s cheeks. “It is in his blood.”

“What is a Slinger and Pufflehuff?”, Scorpius asks interested, looking up at both of you.

“There are four different houses at Hogwarts that every student is placed in during the Sorting Ceremony at the beginning of their first year. I was a Slytherin, the best house there is. You will get into Slytherin if you are resourceful, determined and ambitious. Your mother, however, was in Hufflepuff”, Draco explains to Scorpius, a disparaging tone in his voice as he talks about your house. “Only the uncool children who are patient and loyal go there. Totally boring.”

“Draco!”, you utter out indignantly and give him a slap on the upper arm.

“I want to be a Slytherin”, Scorpius decides and while Draco is obviously happy about this statement, you can only shake your head in disbelief. “But if you do not like Mommy’s house, why did you fall in love?”

In response to Scorpius’ straight forward question, even Draco’s words get stuck in his throat and he does not know what to say next.

“Oh exactly, why did you fall in love with me when I was so extremely boring?”, you mock him playfully, raising your eyebrows as you now look at him expectantly.

“In the end, everyone is the same, no matter what family or house you come from. You must know, Scorpius, your mother actually hated me, but she just could not resist me and my charm”, Draco winks at you while telling his lie – well, maybe not all of it is a lie.

“Your father was really obnoxious when he was younger. Always considered himself the most sublime and someone had to teach him otherwise and get him back to the ground. He really did not like that it was a girl from Hufflepuff who taught him a lesson in the end”, you giggle and make Scorpius laugh with your story.

“That is not funny! Everyone laughed at me after you turned me into a weasel!”

“Wow! You can do that?”, Scorpius asks amazed and turns to you while you reach for your wand that lays on the table, nodding.

“And I could do it again anytime”, you threaten your husband and point the tip of your wand at him, but he does not move a bit.

“You would not dare. Unless you want all your books to fly around your head again”, Draco replies, thus awakening the painful memory of when he had bewitched your books and they literally flew around your head.

“Actually, your father always did all of this to impress me. At some point it might have actually worked”, you continue to tell Scorpius about your love story, a love story which is probably not that common.

“If I had not negotiated an armistice back then by taking you to the Yule Ball, then maybe we would not be here today.”

“And if I had not given you another chance, I would probably never have found out what a great person you actually are”, you smile at him lovingly, while Scorpius just sits in front of you with his mouth wide open, listening intently. “Suddenly, Daddy was very friendly and attentive, he bought me gifts every week until I finally showed mercy and returned his love.”

“What are you even talking about? I clearly had to reciprocate your love, not the other way around!”, Draco intervenes immediately, although you both know exactly that what you said is true. He just wants to look cooler in front of his son.

“Mommy and Daddy loved each other very much and that is why I am here”, Scorpius grins, leaving you two speechless yet again, ending your little argument.

“You are right. And I could not have asked for anything better in my life than your mother, Scorpius. Had she not been there a few times, I would have done very stupid things. I am very grateful that we have found each other and that we now also have you in our life. I could not think of anything more beautiful”, Draco admits, and his demeanor is suddenly so loving and gentle, something he was afraid to show back then. Something you taught him to not hide but to show openly.

“Your father and I, we complete each other. We always did”, you reply as you all take a look at the photo again. “I would even say that we are even happier now than we are in this picture.”

[kashi-prompts]

Flowers For A Shinobi

Chapter 10: A Feeling

Word Count: 2,765

Pairing: Kakashi x OFC

Previous Chapter ❀  Archive of Our Own Link  ❀  Wattpad Link

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Ka-ka-shi. 

The image of his first teammate's soft brown eyes gaping back at him sauntered into his dream as though it had just happened yesterday. Blood dripped from her lips. 

Kak-ashi. 

Obito's crushed face stared back at him distantly. A cough of blood. Dozens and dozens of other shinobi who died before him whirled in his mind. The resolve he made never to let his comrades die only came to be after seeing so many of them perish right in front him. All the instances where he was moments- no, seconds away from saving someone and their lives had quite literally slipped from his hands. 

Ayame's face swirled in his mind. The streaks of orange in her braid and her light green eyes that always catch in the sun. The tension from Rin and Obito's faces dissolved. She reached for his face, touching with hesitancy and admiration as a soft smile drew across her lips. Her fingers felt like small shocks of electricity against his cheek.  

Something grabbed her by her abdomen, drawing her back into an abyss. The shared intimacy quickly swiveling to panic as he jolted forward, calling her name only for it somehow to fall on deaf ears. He reached for her, watching something pull her into the ground, her delicate hand reaching up towards him. 

Kakas-hi!

Kakashi inhaled sharply, both eyes opening immediately to scan his surroundings. A bead of sweat dripped from his hairline and over his silver brow as his eyes rested on Ayame. His ninken stared up at him, curiously concerned for their master's abrupt awakening. Behind his tight ribcage, his lungs felt like a sponge trying desperately to grasp hold of a puddle of water to soak itself. A weak hand lifted to his collarbone, rubbing it uncomfortably to calm his breathing. He noticed his jonin jacket was unzipped. 

He sighed restlessly, closing his left eye slowly as his head fell back against the stone wall. He took in a deep breath, the scent of morning dew and garbage mixing offensively in his sensitive nose. Shifting his head, he looked down at Ayame, her shoulders moving just out of sync with the rhythm of his own breathing. 

His mouth felt dry as his mind wandered back to his dream. What did it mean? Why was he dreaming of her? It was typical for the restlessness of his career to catch up with him in his dreams. But the vision of her affectionate gaze coupled with the imaginary touch of her fingertips to his skin caused an unfamiliar twang in his lower stomach. He swallowed hard, turning his head back to close his eyes. 

A wet nose nudged at his fingers. Shiba's standard rigid glare was soft with regard for his master. Kakashi lifted a hand, petting the dog to comfort his unsettled eye. 

Beyond their makeshift shelter, the maturing sunrise was climbing over the row of hoveled buildings. The orange glow soaked their surroundings in warmth. His breathing finally relaxed as his fingers wove between the hounds grey mane. 

His mind wandered back to the mission assigned to them. A pit arose in his stomach, thinking of those men back in Konoha. He could only hope that Pakkun made it back to the village before dusk, as the Hokage had ordered. If those men died because he was too weak to return to the village on time, he would never forgive himself. Ayame had done her part, causing her to remain unconscious until her body recuperated from the strenuous amount of chakra she had used. 

Slowly, he pushed himself to his feet, dusting off the prior day's dirt he had neglected to clean from himself. He shook his head, scolding himself for the rash decision to rest last night rather than pushing on. It was not like him. But his body was weak from whatever it was he had inhaled. 

As he coolly acknowledged his ninken, he wondered again how he hadn't perished from whatever it was that filtered through his lungs yesterday. Perhaps it was only a temporary toxin meant to knock him out. Still, his body continued to feel off from whatever it was that had entered his airways. 

"I'm heading back to the village now," Kakashi told the dogs, their ears attentive to his words. Each nodded, understanding that they were no longer needed. One by one, they all disappeared from his sight, leaving small puffs of smoke in their wake. 

Kakashi sighed as he knelt in front of Ayame, touching her wrist carefully. He counted her heartbeats. 70, 71, 72. Normal. He exhaled. 

Gingerly, he tucked his hands around her shoulders and the backs of her legs, picking her up and holding her tightly to his chest. The earthy musk of yesterday's work mingling with her natural floral scent reached his nose intriguingly. 

As he began to walk towards the village's gate, he made an effort to look straight ahead. He knew if he looked down at her at such proximity, his whole body would flush. There was something about her that drew him to her, like a mariner to a siren. He could deny it all he wanted for the last two days, but the tightness in his chest as he carried her back to Konoha certainly told him otherwise.  

He felt absurd, like some little schoolboy with a crush on a classmate who would go above and beyond to deny it to anyone who asked, including himself. What would happen if he just ignored it? Perhaps he would leave her at the hospital and never see her again? The mission was complete, he thought. He would never have to deal with these strange feelings of attraction again. 

That is what he would do - ignore it. He didn't need this type of distraction in his life. He had a job to fulfill and a village to protect. It's not that he couldn't have had a relationship before if he wanted one. He could have easily pursued some of the women in the village. And yet, he didn't. The number of people he had lost in his life was a strong indication that whoever was near him died. He didn't need to add to that number. 

He thought of Minato. The way he loved Kushina was something that very few shinobi find. He wished they could have been around longer to see Naruto grow and become the man he was now. He wished Minato could have been around to see who Kakashi had become. Perhaps he would know what to do in this instance.  

The morning light sliced through the forest's tree leaves, reflecting off Ayame's auburn braid tucked around her shoulder. It caught his eye, and he glanced down. All at once, an electric shock ran through his body quicker than his lightning blade could ever penetrate someone. The warmth of her body against his wrists generated a prickle to travel over his skin. He shook his head, taking a deep breath. Looking back up, he began forging ahead on his journey back to Konoha, feeling a strange sense of comfort. 

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"Kakashi!" Izumo called out from behind the green gates of Konoha. His partner, Kotetsu, promptly ran out from behind the watch stand to greet the tired jonin. 

"You look exhausted, Kakashi," Kotetsu pointed out as he reached him. He looked down, observing the bundle of auburn braided hair tucked away in his arms.

"She needs medical attention," Kakashi told them passively. His arms felt numb from the hours of carrying her, but he needed to make up for the time he slept last night while she laid next to him, passed out. 

"Do you need help carrying her?" Izumo questioned, quirking an eyebrow curiously at the copy-ninja as he strode past them, headed in the direction of Konoha's hospital. 

"I've got it," he told them both calmly. He knew she would be alright, he told himself. But there was still that ounce of guilt he felt for getting himself into such a predicament the previous day where she needed to support herself with such little chakra she had. She was not a properly trained shinobi, yet she defended herself favorably. He thought again of how lucky she was even to be breathing. 

The cool air of the night tickled at his exposed cheekbones, causing them to burn the longer he stayed in the cold. He gripped her thighs and shoulders closer to him, feeling that her skin was chilled against his fingers.  

The end of a weekday night was wrapping up as Kakashi made his way towards the hospital, curious eyes accompanying him. Villagers and shinobi alike returning home after an honest day's work. The path to the hospital felt longer than usual, his bones weary from the long trip coupled with whatever it was that he had inhaled the previous day. His body yearned for the comfort of his bed. 

Looking down at Ayame, she stirred slightly against his chest. She grimaced in pain, despite remaining unconscious. The streetlamps above him illuminated the constellation of freckles across her wrinkled nose. He quickened his pace. 

When the two finally reached Konoha's hospital doors, Kakashi believed he might faint. Carefully, he handed Ayame off to a petite nurse with unexpected strength and a troubled gaze. As she left his arms, the warmth she had provided him quickly vanished, and the cold, sterile environment of the hospital enveloped him instead. 

With his mind in a haze, he caught the nurse's upper arm as they followed the petite one. He spewed everything he thought may help her to the nurse. 

"Thank you, Hatake-san," the nurse responded, perturbed by the interaction. "We will take good care of her."

"Kakashi-" he heard from behind him, his shoulders pushing back at the sound of the voice. Turning, Tsunade strode towards him with stern eyebrows. Nurses all around scattered. 

"Oi," He nodded respectively, "Hokage-sama -"

"Come with me," she interrupted him, curling a finger to indicate for him to follow her. Kakashi looked back in the direction the nurses had taken Ayame. He wondered about her condition. Another feeling of guilt washed over him. He had beaten the situation to death in his head as he had traveled back to Konoha. Different strategies he could have applied passed through his head continuously. It was a beginner's mistake.

The Hokage led Kakashi into an examination room, pointing immediately to the examination table to sit down. 

"Did Pakkun-?" Kakashi asked tiredly, his shoulders aching. 

"Yes, he made it back yesterday evening," Tsunade responded, her back towards him as she shuffled medical equipment around on the counter. He could feel his blood pressure rising the longer he stayed in the building. 

"We were able to successfully formulate the antidote, thanks to Ayame's quick thinking. Pakkun relayed the message to me. I'm glad you both made it back in one piece. Although I'm a little disappointed in the way things played out." 

Kakashi hung his head, examining the dirt under his fingernails and restlessly picking it out. 

"All the shinobi that came in have been treated and are on the mend now. Although their chakra levels will suffer, at least they are alive." 

Kakashi looked up, feeling the weight of the mission lift from his chest. He felt relieved to know the mission had been a success. 

"So tell me what it is that happened," Tsunade questioned, turning around to lean against the counter. Her arms folded against her busty chest, her caramel-colored eyes stern as she assessed him. 

Kakashi rehashed the knowledge he had acquired over the last few days. His eyes felt heavy as he told her of the state of Rōtasuagekure, the enemy they had unexpectantly encountered in the cache, and the toxin he had inhaled. 

"Obviously, this man has something to do with the poisoning of our men," Tsunade said firmly. "We need to find out more. You indicated this Daichi is a part of a group, it seems. We have to find out where they are from and how they acquired such a technique. And why they are targeting Konoha shinobi." 

Kakashi nodded, "I agree. It seems their jutsu is similar to Ayame's, more so in the sense of plant-based jutsu mixed with poison. I am unsure if Ayame is capable of creating poisonous foliage, but I'm sure it is not too far-fetched."

"Do you think these men are from Rōtasuagekure?  Or what is left of it?" 

"It could be," Kakashi held his chin, pondering the question as his mind flashed back to the desolate path that wound through that village. He thought of that boy that laid dead against the brick building. What could have happened there in such a short few years for such famine and decay to occur? 

"This Ayame girl," Tsunade began cautiously, "what do you think of her?"

Kakashi looked up, "she seems very capable."  

"I agree," Tsunade nodded, tapping her chin. "Pakkun's report was favorable. She saved herself, you, and Konoha's men. She may not have the shinobi academic background, but she could certainly learn. We could use another earth style on the force." 

Two silver eyebrows knitted together, "what was Pakkun's report?"

Tsunade looked down at Kakashi peculiarly, smiling lightly. "Although he hadn't seen the whole ordeal, he had seen what had happened after a hole had erupted from the ground where you two had disappeared through. He said he had smelled some fumes and came over." 

Kakashi lifted an eyebrow, "had he seen how she had killed Daichi?"

Tsunade nodded, "he said she had used some form of vines to asphyxiate him. It was unexpected of her, to say the least. And the chakra it took was evident by her fainting afterward, just as she did in my office."

"I'm surprised she had enough chakra to use the scroll," Kakashi said thoughtfully. 

"I know," Tsunade nodded in agreement. "Pakkun watched her produce that field. She fainted quickly afterward, and the other ninken kept her safe until you were awake. Her chakra levels are still low, but if she has gone from fainting at the quiver of a leaf to somehow being able to produce vines strong enough to kill someone, she has potential." 

"She learned to meditate," Kakashi explained to the Hokage. "I told her the general basics of chakra levels and how to acquire more through training. She seemed to have grasped it pretty rapidly."

"Well, that explains some," Tsunade mused, looking over at him. "You seem to have formed a good working relationship with her thus far. Perhaps you could train her." 

"I don't know about that," Kakashi waved a dismissive hand. He wanted to avoid her, not spend every day with her.

"With Sakura under my wing and Naruto off with Jiraya, I could easily grant you the time to provide her with proper training." 

Kakashi sighed heavily, rolling his shoulders to relieve the tension. 

"I'll think about it," he said finally, "we don't even know if she wants to be a shinobi."

"Think quickly. And as for you, I need you to lay back so I can examine you." 

"I'm sorry?" Kakashi questioned uncomfortably, his eyebrows lifting to under his silver bangs. 

"The amatoxins that you inhaled could have severely damaged your liver. If not for Ayame giving you the oral antidote, you would have died there slowly and painfully." 

Oral antidote? Kakashi asked himself. He reached up, touching his sternum where his jonin jacket had been unzipped. The tightness in his chest had just barely dissipated. The sticky substance underneath his mask made the realization evident that she had to have seen his face to give him the medicine. 

"Lean back, please," Tsunade demanded impatiently, her palms glowing green. 

Slowly, Kakashi lowered himself back to the examination table, his mind whirling from the influx of news he had just received. She had saved herself, him, and the Konoha shinobi with such little chakra, he couldn't believe she was even alive. 

As Tsunade's hands hovered over his side, Kakashi looked over through the glass door, and down the hallway the nurses had brought Ayame down. He considered Tsunade's words, her recommendation for her to become a Konoha shinobi. He wondered how she would react to such an offer. Would she want to be a part of such a system? To hone her skills and dive back into nature she had left behind in Rōtasuagekure? 

"She'll be alright," Tsunade said to him abruptly, her eyes glancing over at him. 

He turned his head back to look at the ceiling, not feeling himself. 

"I know." 

[deathonyourtongue]

Sanguine Nocturnus | 2

Summary: Even after 2000 years, the world can still surprise you. Pairing: AU!Henry Cavill x OFC Word Count: 3K Warnings: It’s a vampire fic. Death. Blood. Gore. Sex. Horror. Not for the kiddies or the squeamish. I mean it. A/N : Couldn’t leave y’all hanging a week without meeting our main character, now could I?

It was rare that he woke to an empty bed. Rarer still that he woke feeling as though every cell in his body was vibrating. Checking the time on his phone, he sat upright and looked around, keen eyes searching the pitch-black room for any sign of his previous night’s companion. His two dobermans, Phobos and Deimos, marked the spot, the dogs framing the corpse of last night’s entertainment. She’d been a pretty thing, fresh into her 20’s, and still so naive that she’d hung on every word he’d whispered in her ear. 

At least she didn’t die a virgin.

Bending down, he picked her up easily, slinging her over one shoulder as he made his way to the cold room. Too restless to take care of her immediately, he slipped her into one of the five drawers built into the wall and locked the room behind him. By the time he made it back upstairs to shower and dress, her face was already a half-forgotten memory in his mind.

Deciding on an all-black ensemble with a ruby-toned, velvet brocade waistcoat, he showered, dressed and stepped onto the wet cobbles of Rome’s quiet streets, still feeling as though electricity was coursing through him. The moon hung over the Pantheon, looming and casting a reddish glow on all below it.

Feeling none of the restless energy dissipate despite the fresh air, he turned in the direction of the Vatican, needing to take the edge off.

He’d been a customer of the club for years; ever since it opened in fact. Over the thirty years Romulus had been serving the public, the staff had come and gone, but thankfully the owner had stayed the same. Nodding to the man as he came in, the owner automatically motioned for the bartender to set up his drink, knowing his most loyal patron only ever drank one thing; Sanguinem. A blend of wine and other, more secretive ingredients, it was the oldest drink the owner ever kept in stock. The owner had tried it once or twice, always wincing when the metallic taste hit his tongue, always confused by the popularity of the drink among many of his patrons. 

 He sighed as he took a seat at the bar, his blue eyes gazing up at the artwork that adorned the walls. Seldom seen when the club was in full swing, the paintings were recreations of those who had encountered a brutal end. Everyone from Marie Antoinette to Kurt Cobain lined the walls, their images altered to show them post-mortem. Sometimes gruesome and always detailed, each painting was a one-of-one, and if times ever got tough, an easy sell to a discerning collector. 

As the name suggested, Romulus’ atmosphere evoked the age and bloody history of the city it called home. Dim lights, chaise lounges, and arched stone ceilings all lent to the feeling like one were in the catacombs beneath the city. Most nights, the place was flooded with red neon, the gleam of the lights off the dance floor emanating to every other corner of the establishment.

For a Saturday night, the place was oddly vacant, until he remembered that tonight was All Souls’ Day and most of Italy was either in church or in their homes, celebrating the holiday. He had never had much respect for religion, especially Catholicism; as far back as he could remember, the church had been the instigator of more deaths than any other group in the world.

“They can all go fuck themselves,” the patron muttered under his breath before taking his first swig, the bartender giving him a look as though the drinker had just murdered his mother. The owner smiled, knowing the man was referring not to the employees of the club, but to the religious fanatics that kept most of the country in church on a night like this.

“Non è cattolico.” The owner told the bartender, explaining the man’s religious views to the slightly offended man, who nodded in understanding as he connected the cussing to the holiday.

“Non cattolico a tutto.” The patron agreed, his tone low and sharp, his accent different than that of his fellow countrymen.

“Thank you for the drink, old friend.” The man said as he took his final sip, standing to his full height before extending his hand to the owner who shook it happily, his smile filled with the usual wonder that came across his face whenever he observed his patron up close. Although years went by and the world changed, his loyal customer never seemed to age a day. 

No money was ever exchanged, the owner having long ago gifted his patron with a lifetime supply of Sanguinem in exchange for a certain…favor he’d needed done. 

Herminius Calvisius, Henry as he was known these days, had indeed done a few favours for a select few in Italy over the years. Personally, he adored when said favours had to do with the Vatican, for he loved the food there; if you could call it that. 

Food for Henry was not exactly appetizing fare for most others he resembled. Henry's idea of a meal usually consisted of a glass of Merlot followed by a pretty young thing looking for a good time around one of the dark alleys surrounding Vatican City at midnight. He never failed to get a laugh out of the shock that came from the Swiss Guard when they would find the woman the next morning, pale as St. Peter's Basilica, with the exception of two gentle circles in her throat.

 Yes, he was un vampiro, as they liked to call him; a vampire.

Tonight however, the meals would be scarce, and since he was quite selective of his dinner—despite favouring the occasional streetwalker—Henry found his feet guiding him towards one of the few places where blood was a commodity.

Located just outside the Porta Settimiana, the old villa was vast, and most found it disturbing, in a way they simply couldn’t define. It made the hairs on their arms stand, and quickened their step, but if one were to ask, not a single soul could say why they avoided the piece of history. 

To Henry, it was like gazing on the picture of heaven. 

It was the first place he had deemed worthy enough to call home after he became immortal, and it had yet to lose its value in his eyes. Prying open the gate, which badly needed oiling, Henry smiled as he saw Brutus stand from the front door to greet him.

“Hello, boy. It’s been ages, has it not?” He greeted as he pet the mastiff that eagerly sniffed him for bones.

“None today, boy, my apologies.” Henry’s lips turned downwards at the same time as the dog’s, both spending a few more silent moments together before the large black door of the Italianate house was opened.

Had a human have witnessed the action, their blood would have run cold, for like many of the other houses of the period, the front door of this one was unbelievably heavy, usually taking the strength of two men to open. The hand that gripped it however, was delicate, manicured and thin; precisely the hand belonging to the woman he had come to see.

“Lucrezia, my love, hello.” Truly, being in her presence over the years had provided Henry with a great many memories, and fond ones at that, something which was scant for one such as himself.

“Hello, my little hermit.” She smiled. Others in the Roman coven had always called her grin wicked, but to him, it was beautiful and warm; one of the few smiles that had ever pervaded his dreams, turning nightmares into impish fairy tales.

Lucrezia, as her name would suggest, was also Italian, and although younger than him, she had seen the days when Rome ruled the earth—or what was known of it at the time. She had seen several Caesars come and go, and had been just outside the senate when Julius himself had met his end at the tip of Brutus’ blade.

Her hematite locks descended past her shoulders in loose waves, only serving to accentuate impeccable bone structure, a creamy complexion, and burgundy lips she methodically painted every time she awoke. Henry could tell she was feeling dramatic today, as she was wearing an old Roman gown, given to her by a courtier during the reign of Octavian.

“What’s the occasion, Lucy?” Smiling at the intended reaction he got at the nickname, he did not hesitate to kiss her cheek in pardon.

“I do hate it when you call me that, Henry; Makes me sound like a child.”

Indeed to any onlooker, she might be confused for one, Lucrezia having been made an immortal at the tender age of twenty. He did not know her then, but news of her beauty spread quickly among the covens of the Empire, her likeness drawn on both papyrus and walls alike, so that any who felt the need could gaze upon her visage. Henry smiled, remembering how the portraits did her little justice when he finally gazed upon her in the flesh.

“If you must know however, I had company over just an hour ago, and there’s some very exciting news coming from the coven.”

“Will I have to be there?” Henry rolled his eyes, knowing that any news from the coven could only be one of two things; either there was to be a new celebration, or one of the elders had gone to ground and a new one had been chosen to take his place.

“Hush. I haven’t even told you the news yet. Marius was lovely enough to come and keep me company tonight on such a dreadful holiday, and since he had just been to the house, he was brimming with new gossip that I just had to hear. Apparently, Cassius has decided to sleep, and a new elder will be taking his place. According to Marius, this one is…different.”

“Different how?” Henry asked, his interest piqued despite his detestation for any and all gossip to come out of the coven he had so long ago abandoned in favour of a life less formal.

“Well, first off he’s apparently quite…awe striking, fear-inducing, etcetera. A real Roman sculpture is how Marius described him. And secondly, he’s of the…Greek persuasion, if you will.”

Her grin became even more deviant as the two headed inside towards the parlor, Lucrezia immediately pulling a decanter off a small flame and pouring two glasses of blood so good, the scent alone was enough to make Henry’s head spin.

“A boy lover?” He asked, looking curiously at his companion. It was not uncommon for those of his kind to frolic with their own sex, but among the elders and those next in line, it was a rarity, simply because it was a public imbalance among the sexes of the coven and their kind liked nothing more than to appear egalitarian.

“MAN lover, actually. If Marius was looking at the right man, then apparently our next elder has already found a companion in Fares.” Henry raised his eyebrows, indifferent to the news.

“Where do you find them?” He asked, tipping his glass in reference to the fine liquid he soon after began pouring down his throat.

“Oh, you know…The old money, the papacy, the brothels, the usual.” They shared a laugh, both knowing that no matter what a person’s station in life, their blood did little to hide their history.

“Well, my dear, for someone as young as you, you have fine taste.” And with that, he took a full drink, feeling his body reconstitute in seconds.

“Back to this fledgling, my love, and pay attention. The ceremony is taking place two nights from now, at the house, and yes, you must attend.”

Henry tried to hide his annoyance at the fact that despite severing ties to the house, he was still required to go to such frivolous functions, for the sake of tradition alone. For all he knew, the fledgling was already in power, probably getting the youngest members of the house to do his dirty work for him. 

Above all though, he felt bitter that despite his lack of connection, he had yet again been passed over as elder of the coven. It was not as if he were the youngest of vampires. Over 2,000 years old and plenty educated in the ways of the coven, Henry found it an insult to be passed over time after time; it was one of the many reasons he’d separated himself from their ancient ways. 

“How old is this boy lover and what’s his name?” Henry asked, feigning interest for Lucrezia’s sake, only mildly interested in knowing whether this new elder was an acquaintance or not.

“He is a 26, and his name is...Gab-No! Gregory, from what Marius could gather. Do you know him?”

“Is he Italian?” Henry asked, knowing that the chances of this man being familiar to him would increase tenfold if he was of Roman descent.

“When have you known the elders to ever pick a foreigner as the next in line? Of course he’s Italian.” Lucrezia laughed, thinking Henry foolish for even entertaining the notion.

“Well, there was the time when we put in a Frenchman, temporarily. That didn’t go over too well though.” He reminded her, every member of the coven all too eager to forget that one particular mistake in their history.

“And you said he was my 26? As in, older than me?”

“No. 26, as in he was born yesterday,” Lucrezia’s eyes went wide, her gaze speaking volumes to Henry as she took a sip from her chalice. He, like her, was scandalized that they’d pick someone so young to their ways to be the next leading elder.  

Licking his lips, he tried to remember all the faces he had come across in the last three decades, linking each to a name and finding that none of them matched the one he’d been given.

“Unless my memory deceives me, or he has changed his name, I do not know him.”

“Pity, for I was hoping you’d introduce me.” Lucrezia grinned, a single line of blood falling from the corner of her lips, making her indeed look like a celluloid vampire.

Finishing off her chalice, Lucrezia’s blue-green eyes turned to the night beyond her window, Henry smiling as he sensed where the night would go.

“Everyone’s tripping over themselves, naturally; either in love with his youth and beauty, or wanting to maim Cassius for choosing a fledgling who hasn’t even weaned yet, as far as Marius could tell.”

“It’s little wonder Cassius decreed you--” Lucrezia stopped short, her eyes traveling up and over the lip of her chalice, a devilish smirk exposing her fangs as she waited for Henry’s reaction.

“Decreed me to what, Lucy?” Henry asked with a warning tone, one eyebrow raising as he waited for her to spill the rest of the gossip she’d received second-hand.

“Decreed that you will be his tutor in all things...Vampiric.” Her delicate fingers slipped through the air, creating a ballet all their own and momentarily distracting Henry from his own ire.

“He has no power to do so! Lucrezia, tell me this is another one of your humorless jests!” He finally barked, teeth bared as he stood and began to pace around the room.

“I’m afraid not, my darling. If Marius was correct, the decree came with an ultimatum as well. Come to heel, or…” 

“That pompous bastard. He knows full well what he does. I knew it would be another century of trouble once he rose. Had to get one last kick to the teeth in. I swear, if this is still because I told him his mother was a beautiful as a donkey’s prick, I will have his head while he SLEEPS!”

“Easy, Centurion. It’s generally frowned upon to decapitate an elder nowadays. Come, let us slake your lust elsewhere. I ordered in.” Her smile turned even more secretive as she rang a bell next to the snifter, Lucrezia’s gentle hands pressing Henry towards the area of the parlor that she’d long ago turned into something more closely resembling an Andaruni. 

Slipping her hands into the collar of his jacket, Lucrezia helped Henry undress before allowing him to do the same to her, the sweet tone of her giggle as she spun out of her dress completely dissipating any of the lingering anger Henry felt. When they were both nude and relaxed among the many cushions that separated them from the floor, Lucrezia’s day man sent in a feast. 

“Twins! Lucy, you’ve outdone yourself.” Henry’s eyebrow raised for a very different reason as both he and Lucrezia opened their arms for the two young blondes who had been ushered in, bare, and more than a little tipsy if their footsteps were anything to go by. 

“What did you give them tonight?” Henry questioned with a chuckle, reaching up and catching one of the girls before she could crash headlong into the low table that held a variety of accoutrements for pre and post-dinner. Undeterred, the woman found her way easily into his lap, wrapping her arms around his neck as she did a sloppy grind of her hips against his hardening shaft.

“Just the usual. Bit of Absinthe, touch of Laudanum for the nerves.”

“I owe you dinner.” Henry smiled as he sank into the girl in his arms, watching as she arched back instinctively against the exquisite pleasure he provided.

Moans filled the air before a deathly silence blanketed the villa, two more souls joining the countless others being prayed for on that sacred night.

[ghoulciifer]

submission:

@androgynouswordsmyth: “Hi Tum c: this is for your matchup event! 5’6”, with an hourglass figure, has that broad shouldered goddess energy going on. Used to swim competitively in highschool & still have a nice shape. Would describe my style as athletic comfort meets swamp witch. Love wearing black, it goes with everything. But also one of those people that wears workout clothes because they’re comfortable & easy. An admirer of all things relating to the occult & witchcraft. I have two tattoos small ones on my upper thigh & on the inside of my bicep. Often asks “What’s your sign?” Green eyes & shoulder length brown hair that is dyed seafoam green. I am soft spoken & gentle when I interact with everybody. All about self growth & healing. A huge advocate for self care. Love venting about my dumb corporate job. Deep down I'm a rebel anarchist. Often says things like “I’m just a cog in their machine” or “metal till I die”. My end game is writing fantasy novels for a living writing is my passion. I am a person who gets lost in thought & day dreams, a homebody who is fatigued & curls up in bed with Netflix playing in the background while I write rp responses or some of my own stuff. I have depression & anxiety, which I manage with both medication & therapy. Am attracted to bad boys/girls. Kindness & respect in my relationships are important, emotional maturity & a sense of humor are huge & my favorite color is dark pine green. Someone from BNHA, NSFW. Write what feels right.”

notes: aiden! i’m so happy you participated in my event, also you seem like the coolest person? ever? so of course i had to pair you up with one of the coolest dudes in bnha! your support means the world, thank you so much for being my mutual on this hell app ❥

why i matched you:

» you and dabi would get along exceptionally well, both with how you are and how you present yourself. your inner anarchists would collide beautifully and no doubt lead you two into trouble, but who else would you rather start a riot with than someone like him? he thinks it’s kickass that you understand what it means to be a pawn in society’s game, and has no issue with having you by his side to tear that shit down.

» dabi really adores your aesthetic. he finds it incredibly intriguing and thinks it suits your personality well; your hair, your occult lifestyle, and boy does he love your tattoos. he often offers to pay (w stolen money ofc) for you to get more if you want them - one of the best ways of self expression is covering yourself with art, and he supports it wholeheartedly. he likes to trace the ink on your skin during intimate moments and often finds himself admiring them elsewhere, thinking about how gorgeous you’d look with a few more pieces in places only he could see.

» though he might not be as poetic as you, dabi admires your creativity and urges you to keep up with your passion. he’s going to be super lowkey about it but he shows that feeling by doing smaller things, like picking up notebooks for you here and there or offering to get you better quality pens for when you’re brainstorming a story. he won’t tell you but he sometimes reads your stories at night while you’re sleeping (only the ones you’ve offered for him to read, though), and is always left in awe of how talented his girl is.

» when he’s not painting the town red or burning someone to a crisp, he’s more than happy to stay at home with you and curl up with a good show. despite his wicked, cold demeanor he’s actually very affectionate with the person he chooses to pursue! so expect lots of gentle touches, lazy kisses here and there, soft whispers here and there about how warm you are and how nice you feel against his charred skin. he’s not afraid to show you his love because if you can stick with someone like him, well, that’s proof enough that you’re worth it all.

» dabi never does anything without purpose. every action he takes is a part of the grander scheme of things, and he does so with such a drive that is rivaled by most heroes. so you can definitely check maturity off your list. as far as humor goes? he’s a smug bastard, and his sly remarks and teases are aimed directly at you for the sole purpose of making you smile. sometimes he’ll just sit and say the dumbest things to see how hard he can make you laugh, because in a life surrounded by death and darkness, your giggles really help him see it all in a different light.

» dabi’s experienced enough trauma to understand what your inter turmoil is like, but he’s beyond proud of you for taking charge and handling it however you can. he’ll be your biggest supporter when you need it and is so goddamn protective of you. you’ll never not feel safe, because it’s that constant worry in the back of his mind about how just being with him puts a target on your back that pushes him to take extra precaution. you might have a few close calls here and there because, let’s face it, villains are ruthless - but at the end of the day he’s always able to pull you right back to him and remind you he’ll always come for you.

drabble:

Dabi rolls off of your spent body with a slight groan, the thin sheen of sweat covering both of your bodies glowing in the dim light of the bedroom. Your chests rise and fall to a steady rhythm of labored breathing - and as much as you both loved being tangled with each other mere minutes ago, you need a second to let your sweltering skin cool off and your aching muscles to relax after that particularly tiring session. Dabi catches the exasperated sigh escaping your lips and grins from your slumped form in his peripheral.

He always thought you looked the most beautiful like this. When your eyes were half lidded and pupils blown, skin covered in teeth marks and bruises, hair haphazardly strewn about on the pillows. It was a sign he did a job well done, and the image brands itself into his memory every time he’s lucky enough to see it happen. Lost in his daydream, he doesn’t see that sinfully innocent smile tug at the corners of your mouth when you catch him zoning in on your post sex euphoria.

“Y’know, you’re more than welcome to take a picture… they last much longer.”

He laughs, a short exhale from his pierced nose, “I might just do that, doll. Next time.”

Your smile grows wider and you prop yourself up on your elbows, sliding over the tangled sheets to get closer to him and be able to reach and trace over the stapled skin of his chest with delicate fingertips. He closes his eyes at the feeling before loosely wrapping an arm around your lower back, thumb gliding back and forth just below your ribs.

You bask in this comfortable silence for what feels like a lifetime. This was your favorite part of the aftercare, just enjoying each other’s presence that much more as you regain a stable heartbeat, eventually letting Dabi gather you in his strong hands to lay you over his scarred chest when the cool air overstays its welcome on his skin. Once your cheek meets his chest he leans forward to ghost a kiss into your damp hairline, lips lingering there a bit longer every time. The steady beat of his heart usually lulled your eyes closed with its melody. At this point, it was all routine.

Dabi is the first to break the silence, the deep gravel in his voice reverberating through his chest against your ear, “Y’know… if we’re gonna fall asleep like this, the least you could do is read me a bedtime story.”

“Too tired… s’your fault.” he feels your smile and hot breath against his pectoral, broad chest rumbling in laughter at your quip.

“Hm, guess I need to go easier next time. But you weren’t complaining when I was balls dee-“

“Dabi!” You smack his skin and whip your head upward to look him in the eye with a look of feigned shock, and it's hard to contain the giggle that escapes from your dropped jaw. He chuckles again before craning his neck to leave a peck at your bottom lip, his hand raising to push your head gently down to his chest again, the other finding its way beneath the pillow under his head.

“Shh, just go to sleep, stupid.”

“Shut up… dummy.”

matchups are CLOSED! thank you to those who entered or have been keeping up with this event! remember you can check to see updates on matchups + if your matchup has been posted via the #tumplaysmatchmaker tag!

[emwriterblr]

welcome to my world

part four

gif is mine, please don’t repost

word count: 4.4k pairing: javier pena x ofc warning(s): none really in this chapter notes: this chapter is really just a connecting chapter so I’m not too fond with how it turned out but I do hope you all enjoy it!

masterlist here

.....

Everything was different when she woke the next morning. 

It was the sudden drop in the pit of her stomach. A complete shift in her reality.

It took every ounce of strength she had to drag herself out of bed and into the bathroom. Time felt like it had stopped, a hazy cloud cast over everything around her. She felt like she was walking around a dream she couldn’t wake from. 

She stood in the shower longer than usual, allowing the hot water to run down her body, soothing her aching muscles. Anything to delay having to go to work, she was going to take it. 

She left her apartment without eating anything which wasn’t a good idea. Given that the only thing she had yesterday was a lousy sandwich and a lot of alcohol, she was going to be paying for it before the halfway mark. But she had no appetite. She just wanted to get through the day so that she could go home. Maybe even leave a little early if the day didn’t get too crazy. 

When she walked into the embassy, she could already feel the atmosphere was different. It could have been her own mind playing tricks on her, but she swore that some of the people looked at her differently. Almost with pity and empathy. Fuck, did it happen? Did someone actually let it slip about her father? Not surprising to her if that was the case. Still, she wasn’t something for them to gawk at. Most of these people she’s known since transferring. A few of them had offered condolences. But she would rather not be bothered with it. She kept her head down and didn’t acknowledge any of it. 

When they arrived at their office, Steve and Javier were already getting to work on the intel that the Colonel provided them yesterday. Javier didn’t say anything when she entered, only offered a smile which she was quick to return. 

Steve offered her a quick “good morning” and a cup of coffee he had made for her. He eyed Javier for a moment, before going to stand next to her. “You doing okay?” 

Elena nodded, putting on a smile, wanting to put off having to tell him. However, when she glanced over at him, she was met with the same look from everyone else. A real somber look that dripped of empathy and there was a hint of regret. The smile on her face slowly fell. He knew. “Who told you?” Elena asked, trying to keep her voice calm and steady.

Steve cringed as he took a drink from his coffee, “David heard about it and decided to share it with me.” If he could go back and stop it, he absolutely would. He had been trying to forget it since David told him. It wasn’t his information to tell and he was quite clear with David to never pull shit like that ever again.  

Fuck, of course, it was David. That man was absolutely relentless in his daily endeavor on being a complete asshole and making her life even more miserable. “That’s great.” 

“I’m sorry, Elena.” 

God, she wanted to cry right then and there. She had been at work for barely ten minutes and today has already gone to shit. All thanks to fucking David Howard. “It’s okay.” Taking a moment to gather herself, Elena cleared her throat and reached for the intel scattered across the table. “We have work to do so let’s get started.”

The boys made an agreement on how to handle this whole situation. They never brought up her father, kept her busy with intel and surveillance. Anything and everything was done to keep her occupied. She could tell they were trying not to give her any special treatment. While the dynamic was still the same, she could tell there was a level of sensitivity they were giving her. Normally, that sort of thing would annoy her. But she would be lying if she said she didn’t appreciate it.

It wasn’t long before she was called into the Ambassador’s office… alone. Albeit she was a little nervous, however, she knew what it was going to be about. Temporary leave was given out on a few occasions. Family emergencies were one of those occasions. The embassy was contacted by her former supervisor about her father’s passing. No doubt that information was then passed to Noonan. These situations weren’t swept under the rug. Especially, when it had the potential to affect the work performance of DEA agents. It needed to be addressed.

The Ambassador offered Elena the choice of temporary leave the moment she sat down in her office. “We can give you at least a week, longer if you need it.” 

“I appreciate it ma’am but I’ve already decided to stay here.” There was a calm look that crossed over the Ambassador’s face. Elena couldn’t quite decipher what it was, but she was sure that it wasn’t harsh. Perhaps, confusion. “There’s too much going on and I’m still waiting for my informant to come back with a possible lead. I need to be here.” 

Noonan regarded the young woman, before slowly nodding her head. “Very well, agent.” A beat passed. “However, if it starts to affect your performance at work, we may need you to take leave.” 

“I understand, ma’am.” The last thing anyone needed was for her emotions to get in the way. They didn’t need a screw up from her and she didn’t want to disappoint anyone either. “I promise that it won’t affect my performance.” 

Despite what most people thought, Noonan was considerate and understanding. She took a great liking to Elena when the agent first transferred. Noonan admired her diligence and quick thinking. But even she knew the sudden death of a family member was going to have consequences. Yet, she trusted Elena. “Very well, if you feel it is starting to get out of hand, you need to say so.” Elena nodded wordlessly. Noonan waved her dismissal but as Elena stood up, the Ambassador spoke again. “Agent Caro,” she waited until the woman had turned to her. “You have my deepest condolences.” 

Elena simply nodded her gratitude before exiting the Ambassador’s office. God, how many more people would she have to hear that from? The same spiel over and over again. That they were sorry for her loss. That they knew how she felt or what she was going through, what a bunch of horse shit. They could never know how she felt or what was going through her head. This grief was her own personal journey to endure. Her brother had his own experience that she could never relate to. He is the one who found their father dead. She wouldn’t even think about telling him that she knew how he felt. She didn’t have a fucking clue. 

On her way back, she walked by David’s joint office and saw him sitting at his desk. She paused in the doorway, watching as he conversed with one of the other agents. Seeing him smile and laugh pissed her off more than it should have. She sucked in a breath and exhaled, her eyes closing for a moment. “Just walk away,” she whispered to herself. “Don’t do anything stupid.” Then, she heard David calling out her name. Looking back into the room, he was motioning for her to come in. Fuck, what does he want? 

Against her better judgment, Elena timidly entered the room, standing in front of his desk, her hands clenched into fists. The other agent gave her a quick greeting before leaving the office. Her attention was then on David. “What is it, David?” 

He messed around with the files on his desk a moment, then looked up at her, looking rather somber. It almost made her roll her eyes. “I just wanted to say that--I’m sorry for what happened to your father.”

Was he actually trying to sound decent for once in his life? 

“Hm,” Her lips cinched to the side, her head slowly nodding at his words. “Not so sorry that you decided to tell Steve about it.” The somber look on his face was gone very quickly. Of course, it was just an act. 

“What does it even matter?” David leaned back in his chair, not at all concerned about how she felt about it. “He was bound to find out sooner or later.” 

“I was going to tell him when I got to work this morning,” she tilted her head down to meet his gaze. “But you decided to do that for me.” 

“It’s not a big deal, Caro.”

“It’s not your fucking business to tell, David.” The rage in her stomach started to boil, the sting in her waterline nearly sent her into a panic. There was no way she was going to cry in front of David Howard. The prick wouldn’t let her live that down. “Just don’t spread around my business. Got it?” 

The man simply stared at her. She could see a remark was starting to form in his head. The naive part of her head thought that he might actually apologize. That she was able to get through that thick skull of his. David snickered and then shrugged. “Fine.” That seemed to be the last of it. Elena went to take her leave when David’s voice stopped her again. “One more thing, just because your old man bit the dust doesn’t mean you can be more of a bitch than usual.” 

Those words made her blood run cold. The anger was replaced with a dizzying wave of shock. A familiar ache crawled its way into her chest, a harsh constriction assaulted her throat. David was an asshole. That much she knew. But she thought, somewhere past his poor excuse for a heart, there would be some empathy. That he wouldn’t use her father’s death as a means to get to her. But he just did. And she didn’t know why she was so surprised by it. She wanted to say something to him. But the words refused to come out. She remembered her promise to the Ambassador. That she wouldn’t let this affect her work performance. That she would be as professional as she needed to be. But should her having to deal with an asshole co-worker qualify? Yes, unfortunately. That’s why she swallowed down the knot in her throat and stalked out of David’s office. 

Elena never told Steve and Javier about the insult. They asked her if the meeting with Noonan went okay and they were back to work. What good would it do for her to go around complaining every time David was an asshole her? It would get her nowhere. If anything, David would just use it to further discredit her. No, she kept her mouth shut and focused on getting work done. Javier and Steve didn’t say anything but they could sense she was a little more off when she returned. Something with the way her shoulders tensed, they were barely able to get straight forward responses from her. To spare her any more grievances, they merely kept it to themselves. 

Mid-afternoon finally rolled around. By that point, Elena had lost almost all focus on the work at hand. Frustrated with herself, she decided to head home early for the day. A choice that Steve and Javier were quick to agree with. The first thing she did after leaving work was purchasing a much-needed supply of alcohol. If anything was going to get her through this, it was going to be a well-stocked fridge of good drinks. By the time she returned to her apartment complex, the sun was starting to dip behind the horizon. With her purchases in hand, Elena locked her car and headed up the apartment steps when someone called out her name.

“Elena.” 

She paused on the steps and turned to the source. Natalia was rounding the corner and heading right for her. “What’s going on?” 

Natalia paused at the bottom of the steps and gave Elena an expectant look. “I have something to tell you.” She raised her brows after.

“Oh, right, come on.” 

Elena led the way into the complex, asked Natalia to hold one of the bags as she unlocked her door. Once inside, she quickly placed the drinks into the fridge, asking Natalia if she wanted anything to drink. She declined, too busy with taking in the state of the messy sitting room. Elena wasn’t in the mood to clean anything up last night after Javier left. It definitely wasn’t like this when she was here a few days ago. And she had never known Elena to allow her residence to fall to this state. 

Elena knew that the mess was definitely something. She made the mental note to clean up the place once this was finished. “What’s going on?” 

Natalia snapped her gaze away from the mess and focused on Elena. “Right. Popeye and Poison were at the brothel earlier today.” 

That almost made her heart stop. “What?” 

“It’s okay,” Natalia assured her. “They weren’t there for long, only a few minutes. But I did overhear them talking with some of the girls. They will be returning tomorrow, sometime during the afternoon.”

Holy shit. It was an actual lead. “And you’re sure they said tomorrow?” 

“Yes.” 

Elena smiled, more from relief than anything else. The anxiety that came with waiting to hear from Natalia was horrible. Coupling that with her father passing away, Elena just wanted to tear her hair out. But this was good. This sounded like a solid lead. “Great, okay good. Thank you, Natalia.”  

The young woman nodded, glad that she could help in any way. Only now she seemed to feel the weight of what this could bring down on them. How this could affect all the other girls at the brothel. “Can I ask you something?” 

Elena nodded.

“How dangerous is this going to be?” She hesitated. “With you all going in there, do you know what’s going to happen?” 

That wasn’t something she could answer. There was no way Elena could predict what would happen tomorrow. Clearly, she was hopeful that they would catch both Popeye and Poison. But anything could happen. “I’m not going to lie to you, it could be bad. But if we manage to catch them by surprise, it could be a clean sweep but there’s no guarantee.” It could go horribly wrong for all she knew. Elena was trying to keep a hopeful outlook. 

That made Natalia even more nervous. She didn’t regret helping, it was only now she realized how grave this situation was. Escobar had ears all over Colombia. It would be so easy for him to catch wind of her feeding information to the DEA. They could take her out of the equation so easily. 

“You’re going to be at the brothel tomorrow.”

Natalia shook her head, “I have a meet up with another client of mine around the same time.” 

Elena felt the tension in her shoulders subside. “That’s good. You don’t need to be around when all of this goes down. I recommend that you stay away from the brothel for as long as possible.” She wouldn’t be in that much danger if she stayed away. That’s what Elena needed to happen, she needed Natalia to stay safe. “Where is your client?” 

“He’s about ten minutes away from the brothel. I have friends outside the brothel I can meet with too when I’m done.” 

“Good, keep yourself busy.” 

A thick silence permitted between them. It gave Natalia the freedom to eye the mess on the coffee table. Something about the scene felt off to her. “Is everything alright?” She asked, her eyes still scanning over the empty beer bottles. 

Elena watched her take in the scene, feeling somewhat embarrassed by it. “Yeah.” She could just admit to Natalia what had happened and make all of this easier for her. There was nothing wrong with that. The only problem was that Elena simply didn’t have the energy. After the whole debacle with David telling her personal business, she’d rather not have to explain it to another person. At least not tonight. 

However, her singular answer wasn’t very convincing. She could see the doubt in Natalia’s eyes when she looked over at her. But Elena remained calm, making sure not to give anything else away. Natalia took her chance and slowly approached Elena, stopping until she was merely a few inches from her, her hand raising to rest against her cheek. “I know something’s wrong, I can tell by looking at your eyes.” She gave a sad smile at the way Elena closed her eyes, leaning further into her touch, seeking as much comfort from the gesture as she could. Natalia brought her other hand up to brush through Elena’s hair, the worry in her stomach growing with every second. “Elena,” 

That seemed to have done it. Elena’s face scrunched up, a sob fell past her lips. Natalia didn’t waste time. She pulled the young woman close to her, cradling Elena’s head to her chest, stroking her hair. “It’s okay, you don’t have to tell me anything.” 

And she didn’t say anything. Elena snuggled closer to her chest, crying into Natalia’s shirt, suddenly feeling bad for getting tears all over it. “I’m sorry,” she sobbed against her chest. 

Natalia shushed her, continuing with smoothing out Elena’s hair. “Stop it, you don’t need to apologize.” 

All Elena did was nod. She didn’t move away from Natalia’s arms, she actually loved being held like this. A beat passed before Elena was finally able to calm down. Reluctantly, she pulled herself away from Natalia’s hold, but still remained close to her. Natalia brushed away the tear stains with her thumb, “Do you need me to stay tonight?” 

Every part of her wanted to say yes. The sex was one thing. But just to have someone next to her, to talk with her and occupy her thoughts. To tell her that everything was going to be fine. She wanted that more than fucking anything. Elena reached up and took hold of the hand caressing her cheek, her head ducking down a moment. “As much as I would love that, I can’t tonight. I need to go back to the embassy, we need to get everything ready for tomorrow.”

Natalia didn’t put up a fuss, she gave a quick nod, allowing her arm to fall to her side. “Be careful tomorrow, don’t get shot.” 

The comment made Elena smirk. “Now you’re being the worried one.” She teased, calling back to Natalia’s remark a few nights ago. 

That actually made her laugh. “I have every reason to be worried about this.” 

“I know.” Elena checked her watch and let out a sigh. “I’m sorry for keeping you here longer than you anticipated.”

Natalia only waved off her words, already heading for the front door. “Don’t apologize, I’m glad I was here.”

Elena smiled as she followed her and opened the door. She made way for Natalia to make her exit, then when she looked out, she saw Javier and Steve walking in. Elena stood in the open doorway as Natalia caught the eye of both the men. “Natalia,” she said. “This is Javier Pena and Steve Murphy, they’re my partners.” 

Natalia nodded and then smiled at both of them. She definitely caught Javier’s eye which only made Elena smirk. “Nice to meet you both.” She brushed past them, turning back momentarily to throw Elena a quick smile and, after making sure he wasn’t looking, threw a coy glance at Javier.

A look that actually made Elena laugh. Javier and Steve turned their attention from Elena to Natalia and then back to their partner one the former had left, confused by whatever exchange had just happened. Despite his confusion, Javier was rather glad to see Elena smile, although he was quick to notice how red her eyes were. 

“I didn’t expect you guys to be home so early,” Elena said, now directing her attention on them. 

“Ran into a bit of a rut at work, thought we’d call it a night.” Steve clarified, then motioned his head in the direction of where Natalia had left. “Who was that?”

“My informant and also why you’re both going to be annoyed with me.”

“Why’s that?” 

“We have to get back to the embassy. She just gave me a lead.” 

…..

The plan had been set. After relaying the information to the Ambassador, Elena, Javier and Steve took that information to Carrillo. Given that only two of Escobar’s men are expected, the plan was for the three of them to sweep through the brothel and bring them out. Carrillo will be there with a backup team a few blocks away, that way they wouldn’t draw too much attention. The brothel is going to be occupied with civilians. They wanted to make this as quick and as clean as possible. 

The morning of the job was stressful enough. Elena barely got any sleep the night before, resulting in her downing as much coffee as her body could take and eating a few pieces of toast. It was better than running on an empty stomach. She hoped that this all went well. Apprehending these two could possibly get them one step closer to Escobar. They needed this. More than anything. 

They met at Carrillo’s precinct where they went over the plan again. Making sure that every detail was agreed upon and the backup plans were in order. And like with every job, there was always the nail-biting anxiety that came with it. Yet, this time it felt more excruciating than before. As she was strapping on her vest, Elena could see the way her hands shook. It was frustrating. She’s gone on several busts in her career, accompanied Javier and Carrillo on multiples trips since transferring. Nothing about this was new for her. But in her defense, she didn’t have to deal with the unexpected death of a family member during those trips. So really, she should cut herself some slack. But in this line of work, there was no room for slacking. She had to be on top of everything for every second. Especially with busts, losing focus for even a moment could get her or her partners killed. It was a luxury she couldn’t afford. 

When the vest was finally secured, she reached for her gun on the table, pausing momentarily when the shaking resumed. She quickly grabbed the gun, then checked to make sure the magazine was loaded. Once satisfied, she clicked on the safety and stashed the gun in the holster on her vest. She took a glance around the room, everyone else appeared to be calm. No doubt their nerves were on end, they were definitely more clear in the head than she was. Elena closed her eyes and began taking deep breaths, “Fuck, calm down.”

She had to go into this with a clear head. Not allowing this anxiety to take control. 

“Elena.” 

She sucked in a breath and looked over her shoulder at Javier. 

“We’re heading out.” 

A small nod on her end, another deep breath, and she was trailing behind her partner towards the vehicles. The three of them would take one of the jeeps, while Carrillo and his group would take another. Javier hopped into the driver seat and Steve offered the front seat for her. “Ma’am, you take the front seat,” Steve said, even going so far as to open the door for her. 

She smiled and laughed, “Oh, ever the gentleman.” It was nice to have a small moment of reprieve before they faced this storm head-on. 

Once they were all situated, Javier started up the jeep and turned out of the precinct gates. They had calculated the time. It would take them approximately twenty minutes to reach the brothel. And it was almost noon. The entire ride, Elena wrung her hands together, her entire body tense as they inched closer to their destination. God, she hoped that Natalia wasn’t there. That she was somewhere else, either with her client or with friends. The last thing she wanted to happen was for Natalia to get caught in the crossfire. This thing could potentially go south, she was dreading the possibility of people dying today. Elena didn’t want Natalia to be one of them. A part of her knew that she wouldn’t be able to handle it if she lost another informant. 

Javier had been relatively quiet all morning. He had offered to drive Elena to work since she looked too exhausted to drive herself. Not wanting to pry, he only asked her the basics, “Are you doing okay?” or “Did you get any sleep?” He made any and all attempts at easing her into a conversation. When she didn’t give a big answer, he went quiet and allowed her the silence. He compensated his worry by keeping a thoughtful eye on her throughout the morning. Getting her extra coffee if he saw she was starting to grow sluggish. Much like what she did with him after what happened to Helena. He just wanted to make sure that she was okay. 

They arrived at their location. Javier parked their jeep down the street from the building. Carrillo announced through their radio that he was letting his men do a quick drive by the property. As they waited for the go-ahead, Javier glanced over at Elena, silently watching her for… anything, really. He saw her inhale and then her body gave a shake. He rubbed at his chin, suddenly feeling nervous. Not about the job, it was about her. “You ready for this?” 

“Yeah,” she didn’t feel ready but she couldn’t back out of this because she was nervous. What kind of fucking excuse is that? “Let’s just get this done right.” 

The radio in their car crackled to life as Carrillo’s voice came through. “A vehicle is parked near the property, it belongs to them. Get in there.” 

They didn’t need to be told twice. Pulling their guns from their holsters, they exited the vehicle and made their way up the street. Her heart began to pound in her chest, the grip on her gun tightened until her knuckles turned white. Carrillo’s voice played over in her head like a mantra. As quick and clean as possible. No casualties. Bring in Ramos and Velasquez alive. 

.....

tag list: @stevieharrrr​, @absurdthirst​, @caitlincat-95​, @mrsparknuts​​, @valhallavalkyrie9​​, @ahopelessromanticwritersworld​​, @randomness501​​, @watsonwise​​, @lokiaddicted​​, @bluemoon-glen​​ (message me if you want to be added!)

[justthehiddleswrites]

The Reluctants | Chapter 3 | The Reluctant Agreement

Pairing: Adam (OLLA) x OFC (Charlie Bock)

Summary:  Charlie can’t believe her luck when she lands an apartment all to herself in Quincy, Massachusetts in a decaying triple decker. But life gets more complicated when someone moves into the basement. Specifically her landlord, Adam, who also happens to be a vampire. As life collapses around Charlie, these two forge an uneasy and unlikely relationship. But is their relationship as doomed as the building they live in?

Chapter:  Adam struggles with Charlie being around while Charlie just struggles. An unlikely arrangement is created.

Warnings: Violence, Smut, Frottage, Dry Humping, Teasing, Coming In Pants, Oral Sex, Vaginal Sex. Couch Sex. Kidnapping. Stalking. Non-Graphic Violence, Character Death

-

Adam walked Charlie backwards until she bumped up against the kitchen counter.

“Take it off.” he commanded. He pressed against Charlie, making his arousal known against her.

“Take what off?” Charlie questioned, looking up at him through her eyelashes

“The fucking sweater. Take it off. I want to see your tits.” He towered over her. She teased the hem up before lifting the sweater. Her breasts bounced softly as Charlie lifted her arms. Adam’s cock jumped.

“Bra too.”

Charlie grumbled while reaching behind. “You could say ‘please’ or do people lose all manners when they turn?” The bra joined her sweater on the floor, she hoped it was clean but didn’t hold out much hope given the state of Adam’s place.

Adam lowered himself to take one of Charlie’s nipples into his mouth. He sucked hard, taking care not to bite down. His fangs made that difficult. Charlie moaned and gripped the counter as he worked it to a hard pebble. Silently, he moved to the other giving it the same treatment. His lips trailed down Charlie’s stomach, nipping a it.

With long fingers, he tugged and teased at her skirt before pushing the hem up around Charlie’s hips. Adam could smell her and it didn’t take his heightened sense of smell to know she was aroused. A large wet spot soaked through the thin fabric of her underwear.

“Panties.” Charlie glanced down. “Please.” he added. Her hands moved to push them down and Adam helped her step out of them. He tossed them aside, never to be found again.

“Hey those are—” Charlie started.

“Less talking.” Adam interrupted while he pushed her legs apart and licked a fat stripe along her folds. Charlie’s knees buckled, but she remained standing.

The tip of his nose nudged against Charlie’s clit, sending electric shocks right to her core, causing her to flood against Adam’s mouth. He hummed against her, grabbing her ass to pull her close to him. She tasted incredible. He wondered how the rest of her tasted.

Charlie whimpered when Adam’s lips left hers, her orgasm aching inside her. Her walls clenched in anticipation. Adam nipped along her thigh and gripped her hip and knee tight.

“Still hungry.” He growled against her.

Understanding, Charlie nodded. “I wouldn’t want to leave you unsatisfied.” he teased.

His fangs sunk into the smooth flesh of her leg. The blood rushed from Charlie’s femoral artery and he knew in that moment; he was gone. She tasted as no one ever tasted before. Adam had to resist the urge to drown in her. Charlie slumped at the loss of blood and the heady pleasure. Once he had his fill, he licked the spot, sending shivers through Charlie. He tied a towel around the wound, to help stave off her bleeding out.

Adam rose and cupped her breasts before kissing her lips, his tongue tasted metallic and warm inside Charlie’s mouth. It was heady, and she wanted more. He tugged at his jeans, releasing his cock, purple and angry.

“Still hungry.” he grunted as his tip teased along her folds. Charlie’s fingers dug into his biceps. She hooked a leg up and he caught in his hand while pushing inside her.

The two of them moaned. Charlie’s pussy gripped and molded around him.

“Fuck.” Adam cursed. “I am already going to cum with the way you feel.”

Charlie bucked her hips in response and Adam’s head fell forward. He snapped his hips to bottom out inside her and Charlie moaned.

“Fuck me, Adam—”

Adam’s eyes snapped open, and he punched the pillow, cursing as his cock throbbed. Adam never realized that vampires could experience blue balls until that morning. After he stroked himself to completion, Adam still ached. Not physically although his cock would argue that point. The ache was for something more than flesh and blood. It was a hunger he hadn’t felt since Eve. Adam didn’t let his mind dwell on Eve much these days, he didn’t trust himself and feared that if he allowed himself to wallow, that wooden bullet would sing its siren song once again. Best to tuck it all away and lock those feelings, well all feelings, somewhere they couldn’t do harm.

And then there was Charlie. The fucking skeleton key to those feelings. Adam couldn’t remember the last time he woke up with a raging hard-on like a sodding teenager. And that fucking dream. He stood up and headed to the living room to feed and grab one of his guitars, hoping some writing would clear his head. Although he doubted it.

It was well after midnight when Adam remembered the leaking bathtub.

“Fuck.” he headed to the interior staircase connecting the basement to the ground floor. True to her word, Charlie had unlocked the door, and he stepped inside.

The apartment was cleaner than the last time he was in there, searching for Charlie’s phone to erase that video of Adam talking delivery of his stash. She had tidied up for their date, no appointment, Sunday night. The telltale drip beckoned Adam to the bathroom.

He kneeled on the tile, wondering how zombies managed through life with such inefficiency. With deft motions, he stopped the leak and set about reconfiguring the pipes to work in a manner they should.

A soft whimper called out from Charlie’s bedroom, and Adam moved to check on her. He didn’t know what he expected to see when he pushed the door open with his knuckles. He certainly didn’t expect to see Charlie’s knees pulled up, tenting the quilts and sheets. Adam exhaled seeing her safe and asleep. Not that he cared. It was just that it would be hard to rent the apartment out if someone was murdered there, he lied to himself.

As he turned to finish his work, Charlie’s voice called out. “Adam!” her voice breathy, raspy. Not the usual uptick tone.

His head snapped around to see if Charlie had woken up. She hadn’t but her hands and hips were moving in unison. Adam’s eyes widened as he realized she was getting off and somehow he played a part in that. His cock remembered the dream from earlier and pressed against his thin jeans.

“Shit.” he hissed while attempting to will the erection to subside to no avail. “Again?” This was becoming a problem. It hurt to move and recognized he would need to take care of it to return to the task of fixing the bath.

Adam popped the buttons of his jeans and pulled himself out. The tip already dripping. His forehead pressed against the wooden door frame while his hand fisted around his shaft. He grunted softly and Charlie continued to moan, both his name and other words Adam didn’t think polite to repeat.

“Fuck!” he groaned in a whisper as he came into his hand, spilling onto the floor, making a mess.

Charlie let loose a long moan as her back arched, orgasmed herself. She turned onto her side and her breathing returned to a deep, even tone.

Adam rolled his eyes and cursed under his breath as he hunted for a mop.

Charlie woke for work and padded off to the bathroom. She noticed the floors freshly mopped but pushed the thought aside. She squealed a bit to see that Adam had fixed the tub and had in fact, improved it. Although it now looked like a failed Tesla experiment. As she stripped down to shower, she stopped as she remembered the tendril of a dream from last night. She didn’t remember much except Adam being naked, his cock, and lots of moaning.

“God, I hope he didn’t hear that!” Charlie wondered as she stepped in the hot shower.

-

Charlie sailed through the work week. She secured a settlement for Mrs. Santiago for her slip and fall and an injunction for Mr. Jameson against a disgruntled customer. Charlie loved her work and helping people, even if it meant not making the amount of money she should.

“Ms. Bock!” Jason’s head popped over his cubicle wall. “A word.”

Elise threw a pitying look as Charlie marched over. She had no idea what Jason could want on a Friday afternoon. Come to think of it, shouldn’t he on his way to pick up Ms. Shanks-a-lot?

“Please take a seat.” He gestured to the stained chair.

“I’ll just stand, if that’s okay.”

Jason glared, unamused. “Sit. Down. Ms. Bock.”

She slinked down to perch on the edge. Jason pinched the bridge of his nose. Charlie chewed on her lip.

“There’s no easy put it, but this,” He gestured his hands between them, “isn’t working out.”

Charlie stopped fidgeting. “What?”

“I’m saying your services are no longer required.” Jason almost smirked. Hot tears threatened to stream from her eyes. She balled her hand into a fist in her lap.

“Can you give me a reason why you are firing me? Because last I checked I had the highest win rate of any associate.” she demanded.

Jason steepled his fingers. “Your employment at Legal Aid is at will, so I am under no obligation to provide an explanation. I expect your keys on my desk by 5 and your desk cleared out.”

Charlie nodded. Jason reached out and grabbed her hand.

“Charlie.” He rubbed the pad of his thumb over her knuckles. Her stomach turned. “Even though this has not ended the way you hoped, I would like to remain friends.” His mouth widened into a jagged smile reminding Charlie of Heath Ledger’s Joker.

“Uh, sure. I’ve got to go clean out my desk.” she choked out.

Elise wrapped her arm around Charlie and only then did she allow her tears to fall.

“I’m so sorry, sweetie.” Elise commiserated, running her nails in circles on Charlie’s back. “We are here for you.”

“Thank you.” she sniffled. Charlie grabbed an empty banker’s box and packed up what little personal items she had. A funny bobblehead of Spock from Star Trek. A framed quote and few other knick knacks plus three books stashed in her bottom drawer.”

“Remember to tell Ms. Mason to show up at Municipal Court on Tuesday. And the Fisher response is due on the 13th.” Charlie continued to rattle off tasks.

“We got it, sweetie.” Marie comforted her, rubbing her shoulder. “Listen, you head out early to Sullivans and we will wrap up here. Drinks on use”

“Okay.” Charlie wiped her cheeks. “Thank you. I don’t know what I would do without you two!”

They squeezed Charlie tight. “Probably be dating Richard the Serial Dater.”

That earned a laugh from Charlie. That laugh was the only good thing that day.

-

Charlie, beyond buzzed but not sloppy drunk, stumbled to her front steps. Her shoes in her hand and jacket over her forearm. The harsh light of reality would sting tomorrow. Unemployed and precious little savings loomed. But tonight she would revel. The sound of leaves crunching brought reality back into semi-focus. A figure stepped into view.

“Jason?” Charlie squinted to make out the shape of her boss, ex-boss in the shadows. “How do you even know where I live? I never told you.”

“Personnel files.” Jason sneered. He swayed on his feet. You were not the only who had imbibed that night.

“I thought those were confidential. Why are you here?”

“I always keep an eye on my girls.” He ran his fingers along Charlie’s arm. She vomited in her mouth a bit. “Come on, let’s party. You, me and a hotel room in Cambridge.”

“She’s not your girl.” A drawn out English accent called out. Adam stepped out to grab Charlie’s shoulders.

Jason looked Adam up and down, sizing him up. “Hey buddy, isn’t it a little early for Halloween?” Adam rolled his eyes. “Come on Charlie.” Jason reached for her hand but she jerked away, pressing herself against Adam’s chest. His arms wrapped around her.

“Who do you think you are, Ozzy? Her boyfriend?” Jason took a step forward and Adam tucked Charlie between him.

“I’m the landlord, asshole. And I believe the lady has indicated she’s not interested. I suggest you leave now, before I get angry.”

Jason danced in mock fear. “Oh, what are you going to do to me, pretty rocker boy, sing me to death?”

Jason reached around Adam to grab Charlie. With those lightning reflexes, Adam snatched Jason’s wrist and twisted it back until she heard the sickening sound of cracking bones. Charlie stumbled to the bushes and heaved up the contents of her stomach.

Jason cradled his broken arm, screaming in agony.

“Come near her again and I’ll break something more important.” Adam threatened cooly.

“Come near her again and I’ll break something more important.”

Jason crawled and Adam picked up Charlie by the waist cradling her against him as they walked to his apartment.

The door slammed, and Charlie slumped on the couch. Adam filled a glass of water from the tap and shoved it into her hand. He paced the floor in front of her.

“Who the fuck was that?” Adam stood, hands balled into fists. “Answer the question.” he demanded.

Charlie broke down into tears. “My boss, ex-boss. Jason.” she spit out the words between garbled sobs. “I’m sorry. I didn’t know he would be here. He shouldn’t even know my address!”

Charlie’s head fell into her hands. She just repeated “sorry, so sorry” over and over. Adam winced knowing his harsh words had sent her into a tailspin. He sat beside Charlie, his hand hovering over her knee before landing next to her on the velvet couch.

“I shouldn’t have spoken so harshly. Drink.” He lifted the glass to your lips. “How long?”

Charlie took a long draw of water before returning the glass to her lap. “How long what? I wasn’t dating him?!” She shuddered, her senses returning.

“How long have you been out of work?”

“Oh…” she sniffled again. Adam resisted the urge to roll his eyes. “Today.”

Adam blinked not knowing what to say. Charlie broke the silence after draining the glass and placing it on the one clear area on the table.

“I’ll see myself out.”

“You could stay here tonight.” he blurted before he realized what he was saying. Charlie stay here? He wondered. Would his libido survive?

“No. I don’t want to disturb your…” she waved a hand over scribbled sheet music and other notes written in Adam’s unintelligible handwriting. “… work.”

Charlie chewed on her lip as she lingered in the room. She didn’t want to stay the night in her apartment alone. Not for fear of Jason. Just the fear of the all-consuming silence and loneliness. And anyone’s company, even a brooding vampire with a penchant for funeral music was better than the alternative.

“I insist. You can take the bedroom. I would feel better if you stayed.” Charlie’s cheeks flushed, her hands twisting at the ends of her curls, a wild halo around her head. He wanted to run his fingers through them, getting caught up in the twists. Adam cleared his throat. “I mean I would hate to come up at night should that reprobate return.” He covered.

“I can’t take your bed. The sofa is fine.” She patted the cushion.

Adam shook his head. “I’ll be up all night composing. I’ll find you something to wear.” He left the room.

“That really isn’t necessary. I have…” He returned with an oversized t-shirt. “… clothes upstairs.”

“Here. It’s clean.”

“Thank you.” She ducked into the bedroom. “For everything.” she whispered the last two words.

The shirt was soft and came down to the middle of Charlie’s thighs. She put her clothes in a neat pile in the corner. She inhaled Adam’s scent on the shirt. Sandalwood, and musk, and something that was like men’s cologne from another century. She pulled back the dark sheets. She was asleep the moment her head hit the pillow.

-

“Fuccck meee.” Charlie moaned as her head felt as though Athena herself was attempting to escape. She blinked her eyes open to find a dark unfamiliar room. Surely, it can’t still be night. Her eyes adjusted to the dark, and she realized this was not her bedroom.

“What the—” She attempted to sit up but was weighed down.

Whoever was beside her groaned. She remembered the night in snatches. Lots of drinks, Jason. Oh fuck, Adam. She retched at the sight of Jason’s arm snapping. And then falling asleep. In Adam’s bed. In his shirt. Panicking, her hands smoothed over her body. Panties in place.

“Well, that is at least one awkward conversation we can avoid.” she muttered to herself.

Again she attempted to sit up but Adam’s arm pulled her tight against him. It relieved her he was wearing pants, choosing to ignore what she noticed pressing against her backside. Charlie laid there for several minutes, wondering whether Adam was that strong, she was that weak, or when you became a vampire, you weighed a cubic ton.

Adam huffed as he rolled onto his back releasing her from his grip. She scrambled to her feet before he entrapped her again. She smiled at the glass of water on the nightstand, left by Adam at some point last night. Charlie scrambled across the room to grab her clothes. She glanced at Adam’s sleeping form. The way his taut muscle twitched at the slightest movement. It was impossible to ignore how the sheets tented unnaturally around his crotch. Charlie giggled when her foot connected with something hard and sharp sticking out from underneath the bed.

“What the—?” she questioned rubbing where her knee came down hard on the unforgiving floor.

It appeared to be a mini fridge. The door flipped open. Charlie moved to shut it when she saw the metal canisters like the one from the weekend before. She gasped. This must be Adam’s stash. There was only one canister in the fridge.

Charlie wondered when he would get some more. She closed the fridge and tucked it out of the way under the bed. She grabbed her clothes from the corner when Adam called out.

“Charlie!”

She spun to see if he was awake, ready to chastise her for sneaking out. But his eyes were squeezed shut, his face marred as his brows furrowed. As she tried to determine the reason for him calling out her name when her eyes widened when she realized Adam’s eyes weren’t the only part of his body being squeezed. It may have been awhile since she had shared a bed with a man but Charlie could tell Adam was stroking himself underneath the sheets. While calling out her name. She gathered her things in a hurry and bolted up the interior stairs, slamming the door behind her.

-

“Shit!” Charlie slammed the laptop closed. She rose and paced the living room. “Shit… shit… shit.. FUCK!”

Charlie couldn’t make rent at the end of the week. No matter how much she scrimped and ate ramen, the numbers wouldn’t add up.

“Fuck this!” She cursed at not saving more. “I’m going to have to sell a kidney or some… thing.” Charlie snapped her fingers and reached for the phone. “Scathingly brilliant idea.”

The person on the other line picked up.

“Hello? I was wondering if you had any appointments for today.” A pause. “Great! I can be there in thirty minutes. Perfect!”

Charlie threw on a pair of ratty jeans and Boston Red Sox hoodie then grabbed her purse and headed out the door.

-

Adam woke up in bed that evening. The one problem: he didn’t remember falling asleep there. What he did remember was telling Charlie to take the bed. And then him passing out on the sofa. But here he was, in bed, no Charlie and his hand sticky.

“Fuck.”

He flashed on that fucking sweater again. And Charlie’s tits bouncing. While on his cock. He hoped Charlie had been asleep through all that. Now he was hungry. Adam fished around until he found the mini fridge. One canister left. And at least three more weeks before his connection returned from vacation.

He would need to source out another connection. That was the last thing he wanted to do. He poured out a carefully portioned serving, smaller than usual and drank with fervor. All these sex dreams were taking a toll on him.

-

It was late on Sunday evening when Charlie knocked on Adam’s door. He answered like usual, shirtless, bathrobe, hair mussed in a dangerously sexy fashion. Charlie fiddled with the folded piece of paper in her hands and smoothed out the dark green sweater. It was identical to violet one. Jesus Christ, Adam swore in his mind, how many of those infernal sweaters does this woman have?

“We need to talk.” She moved to step into the apartment but Adam held out his arm.

“If this is about Friday night, I can—”

“Not it’s about… wait about Friday night?” Charlie narrowed her eyes at Adam.

“Unimportant.” He lied. “What did you need to talk about?”

She took a deep breath. “So you remember how I lost my job on Friday?”

Adam tilted his head. “And?”

“I’m not going to be able to make rent.” the words spilled from her mouth. She glanced up at Adam, a flicker of something crossed his face. Charlie wasn’t sure if it was sadness, disappointment, or relief. It was gone as soon as it appeared.

“I’ll be sad to see you go. If there was any way to make this work…” Inside, Adam was a tangled mess. On one hand, he hated to see Charlie leave. As far as zombies go, there were worse options. On the other hand, he go could back to a quiet existence with little to no sex dreams involving low cut sweaters.

Charlie stopped him from shutting the door. “I might have a solution to both our problems.”

Adam huffed. “I don’t have any problems.” He crossed his arms.

“You’re looking awfully gaunt, Adam? And not in that cool I’m-a-rock-star-I-live-on-cigarettes-and-espresso gaunt. Are you eating okay?”

His eyes flashed. “My supply is fine. Now if you excuse me—”

“Liar.” Charlie retorted, not accusing but more of a statement of fact. “I found your stash the other day. One canister left. And by all appearances you would seem to be rationing. How long before your dealer,” Adam held up a finger in protest. “sorry, your source is back in town.”

She mirrored his stance, crossing her arms and giving that stare she reserved for asshole landlords in court. At the moment, it was appropriate.

“I’m waiting for an answer.” She tapped her foot.

“Too fucking bad.” Adam hissed.

Charlie sighed and uncrossed your arms. “Look, I need a place to stay and you need a reliable source of blood. All I am suggesting is an exchange. You get to feed on me and I get to stay in my apartment. It’s a win-win. It’s not like I am asking you to sleep with me.”

Adam stiffened at her last statement. She must be a mind reader.

“I don’t fuck zombies.”

“Good, I don’t fuck musicians.” She thought ‘any more’ to herself. “Now what do you say?”

“How do I even know that it’s safe you could have a disease or something wron—”

Charlie shoved the piece of paper at him. “I already went to the free clinic. They ran a full panel. Everything is clean and in normal range.”

“O negative.” Adam commented, licking his lips. “Your cholesterol is on the higher side of normal.”

“I’ll cut back on the fast food. Are you in or is it couch surfing for me and the local blood bank for you?”

Adam didn’t think it over long. He pushed the door open wide.

“Let’s discuss things further inside.”

Charlie stepped in with a smile on the outside and butterflies on the inside.

[fanfictionaries]

Love and Academia Ch. 3 - Dream Homes and Disloyalty

Pairing: AU Professor!Bucky x OFC

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

Author’s note: We get a nice little look into Bucky’s perspective this week. Also because this is an AU and I am the God on the worlds I create, Steve has a big family and he’s from the midwest. I just want him to be a happy little farm boy! 

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

***

Bucky’s feet hit the ground. Left, right, left, right. He was on the final mile of his morning run. Usually by this time he’d be well into his runner’s high, feeling great as he finished off his fifth mile, but today it was like each step made him weaker and slower. His legs cut through the air like a knife cutting through frozen butter. He thought about stopping, just giving up and calling that day’s run short, but a yip at his side and the brush of a cold nose on his calf eliminated the idea immediately. Trixie, his border collie, would be an energetic wreck all day if she didn’t get her full five miles. So, he pushed through, finally slowing to a walk when he’d fully completed his run.

“There, ya happy?” Bucky asked, looking down at his dog. Trixie looked up at her owner briefly, tail wagging, tongue hanging from her mouth, and looking as pleased as ever as she padded beside him. He held her leash loosely in his hand as Trixie led the way towards their new house. Their new home.

It was a red brick Victorian style home nestled on a quiet back street. It’s deep green door, white trim, and beautiful garden of roses and irises held a certain charm. The garden had been the main selling point for him and Diane. Diane had been so taken by the white picket fence in the front yard, with the ivy-colored trellis framing the walkway to the front door. She insisted they put in an offer straight away, even though they weren’t planning on moving for another year. Bucky had called her crazy, saying that it was insane for them to pay both rent in Brooklyn and a mortgage in Idaho. But she had reasoned that with both of their jobs and their minor expenses they could easily afford it and it was a small price to pay for their dream home.

“You mean your dream home?” Bucky laughed.

“It’s not your dream home?” Diane asked, slightly crestfallen at the realization.

“Your dream is my dream,” Bucky said, and it was true. His dream was her and therefore whatever her dream was, was his as well.

But now as he treaded across the loose boards on the front porch to unlock the door that stuck, he cursed her for making this their dream. Opening the door and crossing the threshold, he unhooked Trixie’s leash and placed his keys on the table next to the front door. Trixie, apparently wiped from their run, laid on her bed across the living room and promptly fell asleep. Bucky reached for the remote and turned on the TV, skimming through the channels until he got the local news, and then settled into the rest of his workout. It was always the same: sit ups, pushups, pull ups, repeat. The same simple routine helping to bring him clarity. Something he needed a lot of these days.

The decision to leave Brooklyn had been his idea. His contract with NYU was coming to an end, and he just kept feeling like he needed a change. He’d called Brooklyn home his entire life. Despite his short time away for undergrad at Boston University, he’d been born in Brooklyn, grown up in the streets of Brooklyn with his brothers, gotten his PhD at NYU, gotten his first teaching position there, met Diane there. But he was growing restless of the same old story. Diane, thankfully, agreed. She, being from Montana, enjoyed her time on the east side of the country, but was ready to be closer to home.

Bucky had just finished his last set when his phone buzzed on the coffee table. Not even thinking, he reached for it and pressed the green call button.

“So, he finally answers,” Steve boomed from the other end. Bucky sighed inwardly; he’d been avoiding Steve all week since they’d last seen each other at the bar.

“Hey man, what’s up?”

“Oh, you know, I was just wondering if I could actually see my best friend and catch up with him finally. Or will I have to wait another six years?”

“Alright, alright, message received jerk. Why don’t we grab coffee this morning? I’m headed into the office a little later and I have time before then,” Bucky said, feeling guilty for not making it up to Steve for completely bailing on their guys night last week. Steve laughed and agreed, throwing out a time and place before ending the call.

Bucky showered before dressing in a pair of jeans and white t-shirt. He brushed his wet hair and contemplated trimming his beard before saying ‘fuck it’ and walking out of the bathroom. Making his way down the stairs, he was halfway down when a step gave under his foot. With a loud crack, the wood split in two and he was ankle deep in pain and frustration.

“Jesus fucking Christ!”

Bucky pulled his foot from the hole and continued walking down the stairs gingerly. Pulling up his pant leg, he assessed that there was minimal damage, and proceeded to grab his wallet, keys, and phone from the coffee table. He crouched down by Trixie’s bed and gave her a scratch behind the ear.

“I’ll be back later girl,” Bucky said. Trixie nuzzled his palm with her nose before giving it a kiss and laying her head back down on her bed.

Fifteen minutes later and Bucky was seated at a table in a small coffee shop, ice coffee in hand, with Steve sat across from him.

“It’s good to see you man. Really good,” Steve said, taking a sip of his coffee and leaning back in his seat.

“I know, it really is. Tell me again why you moved all the way out here after college?” Bucky asked, rubbing a bead of condensation away from the side of his cup.

“Oh, you know me. Boston was fun but after four years I was done with the big city. It’s not home, but most of my family isn’t even in Minnesota anymore anyways.”

“And you’re liking it here so far?”

“Oh, I love it. My parents are here, so is my sister Mary. Mike’s still in Bloomington, but him and the wife have been talking about moving down here too. You know us Rogers—can’t stay apart for too long. We always end up finding our way back together,” Steve chuckled.

“Yea, you are a dysfunctional bunch, aren’t you,” Bucky teased.

“Oh please, I’ve met the Barnes family several times. How many times has your mom called you?”

“Today or in the last week?” Bucky laughed, thinking about how his mom had called him at least three times a day for the past month he had been in Idaho.

“Mary still seeing that finance guy?” Bucky asked, trying to remember the small details Steve had dropped about his family over the years through their phone calls.

“Oh Doug? God no. No, he turned out to be a real piece of shit…why? You interested?” Steve grinned, raising an eyebrow at Bucky.

“You seriously trying to set me up with your sister man?”

“Hey—" Steve held his hands up in defense “—I’m just saying. She’s always had a bit of a thing for you.”

“Well, that’s certainly news to me, but I’m not exactly single Steve,” Bucky sighed.

“I thought you said Diane said—”

“Yea, I know what she said but it doesn’t really mean I agree with it. That was her idea, not mine.”

“So, the other night at the bar?”

“Was a mistake. Besides, nothing really happened.”

Steve looked skeptical, “She seemed pretty upset right before she left. You sure nothing really happened?”

“What are you implying?”

“Nothing. I’m just worried about you.”

There was a long silence as they sat there. Bucky refusing to look at Steve. Steve refusing to look away from Bucky. Bucky had felt guilty that night with Emily. He truly had. Diane’s words had run through his head that night over and over again. He thought that if he had kept it impersonal, maybe he could do it. With Diane not there, he was lonely and god, he had been wildly attracted to Emily. Probably more than he liked to admit. But no matter what Diane said, when it came down to it, it still felt like a betrayal.

“Well, at least something good came out of that night,” Bucky stated, steering the conversation in another direction.

“Oh yea? What?”

“I’m assuming you went home with her friend, yea?”

At the mention of Natasha, Steve’s face went bright red and he coughed into his hand, “We uh, no we didn’t. She wanted to but…”

“You said no?” Bucky asked shocked.

“Yea, well you know me. I’m a bit old fashioned. I want to take a girl out on an actual date before we—”

“Fuck each other’s brains out?”

“Something like that—" Steve smirked into his coffee cup, “—I’m taking her out for dinner tomorrow actually.”

Bucky smiled at Steve, his best friend looking bashful but excited, “Gonna’ show her the ol’ Steve Rogers’ charm?”

“I’m just hoping I don’t make a fool of myself. It’s been a while since I went out on a date. You know, what with me and Peggie splitting and she’s…very confident. She definitely knows what she wants,” Steve admitted.

“Oh, you’re for sure going to make a fool of yourself, but I don’t think that’ll hurt your chances.”

Bucky laughed as Steve reached across the table and tried to punch him in the arm.

“Jerk,” Steve said, smiling the whole time. They talked for a while longer, Bucky asking about Steve’s family and Steve doing the same. They talked about mutual friends and what they were up to. About an hour had passed when Steve asked about Bucky’s new job.

“So, when do you start your new gig?”

“This coming Monday. I was actually going to stop by today and take care of paperwork, maybe check out my new office,” Bucky said, draining the last of his coffee.

“Well, I won’t keep you from that. I should probably get going. I’ve got to head to the gym and then get home and get some stuff done.”

They stood and said their goodbyes, promising to hang out again soon before exiting the coffee shop and getting in their cars. It was a short drive from there to the university. The red brick and lush green trees reminding Bucky of home. However, stepping out of his truck, the dry heat was a pleasant reminder that this place was definitely not humid, sticky Brooklyn in August. Locking his car behind him in the visitor’s parking lot, he walked casually towards the Life Science’s building. He admired the landscaping as he walked, always finding humor in how every university seemed to try and make their campus as pretty as possible right before school started. A nicer grounds always did well for visiting prospective students, parents dropping off their children for their first year, and returning students who wanted a reason to stay.

The Life Science’s building was definitely older than some of the other buildings on campus, but that didn’t both him too much. He climbed the stairs, old linoleum steps peeling and cracking as he double checked the office number on his phone. Room 439. As he neared the room tucked back into a corner of the floor, he began to hear music. Gradually it increased in volume, a punky beat from a band that he recognized. It became clear that the music was coming from room 439 when he entered through the front door. Looking around he saw an older lab, boxes piled high and lab equipment strewn about haphazardly. The music was coming from the office within the lab, this time though, he could hear a voice singing along to it. It was loud, raspy, and overall offkey. Maybe he had the wrong room number? He walked towards the office, hoping to ask whoever was in there for some help finding the right place. Inside was a young woman dressed in a pair of baggy jeans and t-shirt. He watched in amusement as she danced to the music, obviously under the impression that she was alone as her hips wiggled and head bopped side to side.

“Um, excuse me. I think this is my office,” he called over the music, feeling bad that he was probably going to embarrass the girl. She jumped at his voice and when she whipped around the ground fell out from underneath him.

“What the hell are you doing here?” he asked. Anger, for some reason, being his initial reaction to seeing Emily standing in what was supposed to be his office. Emily, a woman who had told him that she was a bartender. Emily, a woman he had almost hooked up with and then snubbed very dickishly at a bar about a week ago.

She seemed pretty upset right before she left. Steve’s words rang in his mind.

[bscarz]

Bill, a mysterious prisoner with ‘supernatural’ abilities finally meets his angel.

CASTLE ROCK- INSPIRED ONE SHOT, AU. 

Bill Skarsgård x OFC.

WARNINGS: SMUT

The cold air nips harshly at my nose, however, my body is warm due to the heat the blanket provided. I sigh as I eye the raindrops racing down the window, looking out into the dark neighbourhood, waiting for my father to come home.

It wasn’t late in the evening at all, but the winter had sent the sky into darkness prematurely. I liked the winter, I just didn’t like the uncertainty of it. Some days were colder, some days were warmer. I was never a fan of not knowing what came next; it would make my anxiety spiral out of control. My dad always laughed at me for it; the fact that I always wanted to know everything.

The sound of an engine could be heard from down the street, making me lean forward to get a better look at the outside. Two bright lights were coming up my driveway and I released a breath, feeling a lot better knowing that my dad was home.

I discarded the blanket and made my way to the door, gripping the edge of my sleeves. I was quicker than my dad, opening the front door as soon as I heard his keys. His eyes widened in surprise, not expecting my presence, but a warm smile soon replaced his shock.

“Honey, were you waiting for me?” He asked, closing the door behind him. I nodded shyly, feeling stupid for not doing something better with my time. My father only laughed though, hugging me in the process.

“Gosh, you worry too much.” He stated.

“Sorry for caring.” I teased.

I follow my father into the kitchen, opening up a drawer and grabbing out the cutlery for dinner. “I have to tell you about this boy I met today,” he says as he opens the oven. “He’s young- about 23, and has been in prison for only a few months.”

I place the plates on the table, nodding along to my dad. “What’s he in for?”

“See that’s the thing, he hasn’t done anything particularly.” He explains, scratching the stubble around his chin. “There have been numerous unknown deaths in the past few months, The Kid’s been linked to each person.”

“But there’s no proof?” I ask. “How can he be in prison then?”

My father pats my head lightly, laughing at my inquisitiveness. “One question at a time, petal.” He teases, “Each death has been mysterious, no one knows how these people died… The Kid just happened to be linked to it all, I guess.”

“Are you saying he could be innocent?”

“Maybe. I don’t know too much about it, petal. I’m only there to do my services.”

I smile brightly at my father. Pride warms my body as I look at the kind-hearted man. My father loved to help out as much as he could, so when the opportunity came for him to read bible passages to prisoners, he was elated by the offer. After his office job, my father would drive to Shawshank and speak to the prisoners about God, not once judging their character.

“I’m proud of you, Dad.”

“Thank you.” He replies, smiling back at me. “However, I do need some help. The Kid is quite young, he doesn't take old dogs like me too seriously.” He chuckles, as he cuts into his roast. “I was wondering if you could maybe write him a letter… you know, make him feel less alone considering everyone is quite old at Shawshank.”

“Like a pen-pal?”

“Yeah, I guess you could call it that.” He replied. “I don’t want him to be isolated. He’s very quiet so I think some communication is good… Maybe I’ll bring you in to meet him one day... when I know it’s safe.” He added.

“Of course, Dad. I’d love to help.” I smile.

“That’s my girl.”

———

I sat with my legs crossed on the pink bedding, staring aimlessly out the window again. My father had gone to bed, leaving me to my own devices. I glance down at the paper in front of me, wondering what I should write to ‘The Kid’. I knew nothing about him, and I had nothing to say about myself. All I knew is that he could be innocent, or he could be a serial killer that has caused numerous unknown deaths, like a modern-day Devil. I shiver at the thought, scolding myself for jumping to an awful conclusion. I grab the pen off my side desk and write anything that comes to mind.

Hello,

My name is Emily. My father, Jacob, visits the prison quite frequently to read Bible verses to the people. He was intrigued by your presence. There aren’t a lot of youngsters at Shawshank. He asked me to write to you, so you didn't feel alone. I know what it’s like to be the odd one out amongst a group of people, it’s not fun, but you don’t have to worry, because I can talk to you.

I don’t have much to say, besides the fact that I am 19. I live with my father and we both enjoy reading, music, and all the other basic stuff.

You might not be religious, but I suggest you see my father for Bible reading sessions. I don’t want to force religion onto you, but I don't think religion has to do with believing God not; it’s about believing forgiveness, kindness, and most of all redemption.

I hope to hear back from you soon. I wish you the best of luck.

Emily.

I click the top of the pen, reading the letter over and over again, wondering if it was good enough or not. I glanced at the clock beside me and shuffled under the covers. I grabbed the envelope off my nightstand and placed the letter inside, deciding that it was good enough. I had to remember that The Kid was only young, and he could be innocent; he needs some type of communication. Isolation only drives a person crazy, and no one deserves to be alone.

I sink my head into my pillow; my heart felt so much better when I closed my eyes, knowing that I could be helping someone out there. I enter a curious dream, imagining the boy within the prison walls.

———

It had been ten days since I gave the letter to my dad, and finally, I got a reply.

The envelope was shaking in my hand, I wasn’t sure why I was so nervous, but my heart was beating rapidly against my rib cage. I ran up the stairs and into the privacy of my room, ripping open the envelope and staring at the folded paper in my hands. I wanted to read it but I was still too nervous.

Once I was seated comfortably on my bed, I unfolded the letter and began to read the note in front of me. I gawked at the cursive handwriting on the letter, shocked at the elegance of it all. I leaned back onto my pillow and read the letter numerous times, processing every word on the page.

Dear Emily.

I am not surprised that I stood out to your father. I doubt it’s my age that caught his eye, but rather my reluctance to engage in any activities he had set. I am not one for reading, but your letter made the exception.

I do not fear isolation. Thank you for your concern, but I crave the feeling of being alone. I am not a fan of crowds or people, for that matter. I only enjoy company when it provides me with pleasure, however, I doubt you know what that means.

If you want me to engage in Bible reading, maybe you could come down and read a few verses to me. That’s the only way I’ll consider anything like forgiveness, kindness, or, your favourite, redemption.

I hope that I will be an acquaintance soon.

Bill.

I shuddered at the words in front of me, unsure of how I should feel about the letter that I had been impatiently waiting for. One part of me was intrigued by his mystery, the other part of me thought he was teasing. Either way, I was determined this time to meet Bill. I always loved talking about the importance of redemption and forgiveness, and if Bill would consider these things over a meet up then I’d be more than happy to see him.

I race down the stairs, eager to see my father; ready to tell him my plan.

———

I walk the long, cold halls of Shawshank, my body shaking with nerves. I try my hardest not to let my fear show as I march behind an officer.

Surprisingly, it didn’t take a lot of convincing for me to read the Bible with Bill. My father talked to a few of the coordinators and they deemed the visit as safe. I was excited that I was able to meet the mysterious man, however, my gut feeling told me that he wasn’t as innocent and harmless as perceived. Something told me that this man was a replica of The Devil, and I couldn’t seem to shake that feeling off.

“Right this way, Miss.” The officer says, guiding me to a room at the end of the hall.

I step inside with the officer next to me, and spot two chairs and a table. I turn my head to the side and find another door opening, an officer walks into a room holding someone by the arm. The stranger is dressed in a white top and blue over-shirt, towering over everyone in the room. The man diverts his eyes from the floor and looks at me; my eyes widen at his appearance.

It took me a second too long to realise that the man in front of me was Bill. I had endless visions of how he would look, and I had never pictured him to look like this. Despite his frail frame, from a lack of eating I assumed, the man was absolutely gorgeous. He had shaggy brown hair that framed his face perfectly, plump lips and wide green eyes. He smirked at me, causing me to cease my staring. I tug at the ends of my white dress, feeling exposed under his eyes, even though it was the most modest thing in my closet.

“You have half an hour.” The other officer says to Bill, however, Bill doesn’t even acknowledge his presence, his eyes are still lingering on me.

The other officer leaves as I walk towards the table, sitting opposite Bill. The officer that lead me to the room stands outside the door. Usually, I should feel frightened by the predicament, however, the cuffs around Bill’s wrists give me a sense of relief.

“Um…” I begin, looking down at the Bible in front of me. Bill hasn’t once taken his eyes off me. I fidget in my spot, nervously brushing a few strands of brown hair behind my ear. Bill chuckles as my clammy hands try to find a page within the book. My searching is stopped, however, when a large hand reaches over and engulfs mine.

“Don’t bother,” He states huskily; his voice deeper than I excepted it to me. “I don’t want to hear that shit.”

I look up at him confused, “But you said-“

“I lied.” He interjected, smirking at my confusion.

“What do you want from me then?” I questioned. Feeling stupid and hurt.

Bill leaned back in his chair. “I just wanted to see you is all... Wanted to see if I was right” He mumbled... “And my, my, you’re better than expected. It was worth the wait.”

I blushed profusely at his words, again, looking down to avoid his stare.

“I don’t know how to help you then.”

He chuckled darkly at my statement. “You think I want help? That I want redemption?” He teased. “You’re mistaken, little girl. I don’t want change.”

I gulped at his cynical words, annoyed that my mission to preach kindness was already set for failure. “You sound like The Devil,” I whispered.

“I’m not The Devil.” He smirked. “The Devil was an Angel once. The Devil had his motives, I have none.” He stated. “I do things because I want to.”

I shuddered, grabbing the book in front of me and standing up from the chair. There was no way I was going to sit with this man. As I was about to leave the table, I feel a hand grab my wrist. I quickly spin around; Bill now looming over me. Our bodies are so close that I cower away from him in fear, however, the link between my wrist and his hand radiates a magnetic hold. I struggle to understand how I could feel sparks shoot up my arm and around the rest of my body. Bill’s eyes avert to our hold and I sense that he can feel the connection too.

Our link is separated, however, as the Officers run into the room, grabbing Bill by the shoulders and dragging him out the door. I look down at my wrist, shuddering at the loss of connection. 

“Are you alright, Miss?” The officer asks, yet all I do is nod, distracted by the mysterious man and his powerful touch.

———

“Call it a blessing.” My father laughed as he picked at his salad. It had been one week since my visit with Bill. I came home from school, thoughts of the stranger finally leaving my mind, only to be receiving news from my father about his release from prison.

“I don’t understand.” I stammer, staring blankly at the table. “He just got into prison… and now he’s out?”

“Yes, darling.” My father replied. “There was not enough evidence for him to be in there. It’s unethical to keep someone away with no substantial proof.”

“I agree. I just find it odd, is all.” I whispered, picking at the food with my fork.

“Honey,” He smiled. “Maybe you helped him. Maybe you taught him the power of compassion.”

“I doubt it.”

“Then what do you think it is, hm?” He asked.

“I would call it The Devil’s work.”

———

There were numerous reasons as to why it was difficult for me to get any shut-eye. Firstly, the flash of light that illuminated the room every ten seconds from the lightning was much more fascinating to look at. Secondly, the combination of the torrential rain and harsh wind had ruined any chance of silence; And lastly, Bill was released from prison, and that thought could not escape my head.

I might not ever see him again, and although I should be delighted by the fact, I was also upset. I was curious about him, I wanted to know more, and now my questions would never be answered.

A bolt of lightning interrupted my thoughts, illuminating the room for a second and then submerging it into total darkness. My heart beat started to accelerate as the room began to radiate off an ominous feel. I felt like I was being watched, like I was not alone. I stiffened in my bed, pulling the blankets higher up my body. I closed my eyes tightly, hearing a loud bang from outside.

When I open my eyes again, I realise I’m not alone. Standing at the end of my bed was Bill, still clad in his white shirt, slacks and runners. His hair was now slicked back due to the rain. I open my mouth to scream but he is quicker than me, rushing towards the bed and covering my mouth.

“Don’t you dare scream,” He threatened.

I nod my head obligingly, feeling some sort of relief that the stranger was Bill and not someone completely unknown. He slowly releases his hand, studying me while I try to create some distance between us on the bed.

“How did you get in here?” I question, pulling my knees up to my chin and cradling myself. The window wasn’t even open, there was no scientific explanation behind his visit.

“I have my ways,” He teased, sitting up from the bed and stalking towards the window, looking out into the distance.

“How do you even know where I live?” I whisper, watching Bill move aimlessly around my room.

“Don’t be silly.” He mocked, picking up a snow globe off my chest of drawers, “You did write me a letter, Emily.”

“Yes but I never-“

“Enough.” He stated. “You ask too many questions.”

“You never answer any of them.”

“Touché” He smirked, turning around from the chest of drawers. I felt so exposed and little as he stood at the end of my bed, slowly stalking towards me.

“I know you felt it too,” He whispered, as he grabbed the blankets and lightly tugged them off me. I shivered in response, crossing my arms and trying to cover myself. “There’s no point in denying it. Our touch ignites.”

“Please,” I beg, whimpering. “What do you want from me?”

“I just want to touch… An Angel.”

“What?” I questioned, my eyes widening as he sat at the edge of my bed, placing his hand on my leg. “You’re making no sense,” I stammered, however, I could not deny the spark that ricocheted from his touch. It seemed supernatural; the connection we had; An Angel and The Devil…

“You like it when I touch you.” He confirmed, “Daddy’s good, little virgin girl.” He chuckled, “But with me… you’re begging to be touched.”

I felt his hands slowly crawl up my legs, pulling down my pyjama pants until I was clad in nothing but my black underwear, from the waist down. In reality, I should be screaming or kicking him off, but somehow, I felt frozen in place. I couldn’t cease his actions, I just stared at him quietly watching his every move with anticipation.

“What am I doing?” I whispered, more to myself than to Bill. It felt like I was under a spell; Bill always seemed to have a hypnotic vibe. I slowly leant back on my bed, laying my head on my pillow and closing my eyes, still feeling his hand crawling up the skin of my thighs.

“Just… let me. I knew I’d find you…” He murmured. His words confused me, but his touch was too distracting. His cold fingers hooked around the top of my underwear, slowly pulling the fabric down my legs. My eyes were squeezed close, heart beating out of my chest, and yet I still couldn’t tell Bill to stop, his touch felt too intoxicating.

I stiffened as I felt his fingers trace the edge of my folds. I fidgeted on the bed as his fingers began to toy with my centre, toes curling at the action. “A taste… of the Angel.” He whispered, moving back on the bed and spreading my legs with his big hands.

“What?” I questioned, confused by his words, yet all thoughts were halted as I felt Bill lean down between my legs, his tongue flicking out and over my clitoris. I shivered at the sensation, so foreign to me yet so alluring. He licked a long stipe over my sensitive nub and then blew cold air over the area.

“Just let me,” He whispered before nuzzling his face between my legs. I trembled at the sensation, shifting on the bed and bucking my hips up. His whole mouth was over my sex, tongue delving deep into me, licking all around my clitoris. I could feel his rough stubble against my thighs, making me clench my legs together as I felt a shiver erupt through my body. I withered at the feeling of his tongue making circles on my sensitive nub, slowly picking up the pace.

“Oh… Bill,” I whispered brokenly, my stomach knotting at the sensation of his tongue. I felt a fire burn in the pit of my stomach, beginning to make my body convulse. I was confused as to what was happening to me, my body felt like it was getting out of control.

“So beautiful…” He mumbled, picking up his pace, causing my hips to push against his face, rolling myself into his mouth.

“What’s happening to me…?” I cried. My eyes were rolling into the back of my head, mouth agape as a soft whine left my lips. I could feel sweat dripping down my forehead as I pushed the bottom of my body up, tensing all over as a strong feeling began to overwhelm my body. Warmth pooled in my centre as I snapped my eyes shut, whimpering as my stomach tightened. Instantly, all the pressure released, like an explosion. My back arched as I reached down and fisted Bill’s hair with my hands, pushing his face gently towards me as I rode out the wave of pleasure. I could feel my thighs becoming wetter as Bill never ceased his movements, lapping at the moisture between my legs.

I slowly let go of Bill’s hair as I laid back, breathing heavy as I came down from my high. My eyes were still sealed shut, legs clenched together as I rested my head to the side, wondering what just happened to me.

“It’s an orgasm,” Bill explained, cutting the silence. I fluttered my eyes open, letting out broken breaths as I watched him stand from the bed, noticing the bulge in his pants and the fierce look in his eyes.

Bill slowly walked towards me, sitting down next to me this time, and gently stroking the hair away from my face. “I want to be touched by The Angel,” he breathed, leaning in and gently kissing me on the lips. Again, the spark between us was ignited, creating an even bigger flame than before. I still couldn't work out how a simple touch between two strangers could feel so magnetic, but I didn’t question it, the feeling was too good.

I scooted over as Bill got on the bed, pulling off his shirt hastily and unzipping his pants, clad in nothing but his boxers; my eyes curiously exploring every inch of naked skin. I shyly put my fingers on his chest, tracing the hard skin. Bill placed his hand over mine, gently guiding it towards his boxers. My fingers skimmed past the hair above his erection, reaching the fabric of his underwear and slipping my fingers underneath it.

I had never touched a man before, so I was quite nervous and unsure at what I was doing, however, I was too intoxicated by the moment to break the spell, so my nimble fingers traced the skin of his length as I curled my hand around him and slowly moved up and down. Bill released a deep breath, eyes closing as I continued my movements. For once, I was the powerful one, and he was becoming weak at my touch. The ego boost made me move a little quicker, loving the sounds of broken whimpers leaving his mouth.

“More pressure,” He stated, as I curled my hand tighter around him, gently tugging back and forth. My thumb brushed over the tip of his erection, eliciting a hiss from Bill’s mouth. I took that as a sign that he liked my touch, and gently brushed my thumb around the whole tip, never ceasing my tugging.

“My angel…” He rasped, closing his eyes and rolling his head backwards. Spontaneously, I pushed myself up, moving down the bed and tugging down his boxers. Just as Bill was about to crane his head from the bed, I leant forward and licked the tip of his penis with my tongue. “Fuck,” he moaned, tangling his fingers in my hair as I continued to leave licks and small kisses on him. My hand was tugging at a faster rate now, hoping to make Bill feel what I had felt not too long ago.

I fluttered my eyes up, seeing Bill with his eyes closed shut and jaw clenching by my actions, soon his body started to spasm, muscles tensing as he let out a shaky moan, releasing himself like I had done a few moments prior. Moisture squirted out of him, and I quickly retreated myself, confused at the substance around me. I still tugged on Bill gently, not sure when to stop or not, waiting for him to release everything.

Once he was done with his ‘orgasm’, I gently retreated my hand from his length, lying back down next to him, watching his chest rise and fall as he tried to regain his breath.

Bill rolled his head to the side, looking at me in the eyes as he nuzzled his nose into my shoulder. Slowly, he brought his lips to mine, kissing me passionately in the bed. He reached down and grabbed the blanket, throwing it over us as he continued kissing me. 

“I waited so long for you…” He whispered, kissing from my cheek to my neck.

One of his hands glided down my arm, intertwining his hand with mine. Our connection was stronger than ever. The living Devil and Angel finally found each other, becoming one, as I closed my eyes and fell fast asleep within his arms.

[merry-agaeti-blodhren]

Agaethi Blodhren - Part 5

The Knucklebones (for @anhufflepuffhobbit from @problematic-maverick)

Word Count: 1673

Rating: Probably G, check the warnings in case

Characters: Angela, OFC (Angela’s mother), OMC (Angela’s father, briefly), OMC (Oromis’ father, briefly), Oromis (briefly), Glaedr (briefly), Solembum (briefly), Vrael (mentioned), Evandar (mentioned)

Warnings: OC Death, slight angst

Summary: Angela’s early life (up to about age twenty). I would like to maybe expand on this in the future, if @anhufflepuffhobbit is amenable to it.

It was her mother who taught her to use the knucklebones.

She was four, maybe five when she first stumbled into her mother’s study while she was reading a future. As usual, her mother was sitting behind the desk, with a small smile veiled behind a more serious expression, hiding in the crinkles round her eyes. What was unusual was the tall man with long silver-white hair sitting in front of her.

“You are still willing?” she asked the man. 

He gave only a gentle incline of his head, but that seemed to be enough for her, as she dropped something- several things, actually- from her hand. Three words slipped from her mother’s lips, each landing heavily. The power around them was clear, yet as she watched, she could still hear the gentle tinkling as seven pale objects settled on the hard wood of the desk. 

Her soft gasp drew her mother’s gaze, and she frantically gestured to her to leave.

She hurried out and sat leaning against the corridor wall, her thoughts still tangled, the clink of the items still echoing in her mind. She was only interrupted by the creaking door opening to let the man and her mother out.

Leaping up, she looked straight into the man’s eyes and solemnly declared, “I like your hair.”

His eyes twinkled and he smiled, and replied just as seriously. “I like yours too. My name is Glídrin. May I ask yours?”

“Angela,” she stated. “My name is Angela.”

-

When she was eleven, her mother called her up to the study. Apprehension stirred in her gut, she had no idea what she’d done this time, but it had to be something big. 

She climbed the smooth, polished steps up to the third floor slowly, dreading the scolding undoubtedly waiting at their top. But when she opened the hefty oaken door, she was greeted with one of her mother’s rare, openly soft smiles.

“You’ve always been interested in my knucklebones, haven’t you?” she started, and her eyes were pulled to the seven creamy-white cuboids arrayed on the desk. The smile widened. “Do you want to know how to use them?”

Of course she did. She sat down opposite her mother, and watched, enthralled, as her mother gathered the bones, closed her eyes. The shadows on her lips flickered slightly, before opening and, once again, freeing the three words. This time she concentrated on them.

Manin, Wyrda, Hugin. Memory, Fate, Thought. 

The words remained in the air, even as it was fragmented by the chimes of the bones.

Her mother’s eyes met hers, even as she swept the bones off the table, concealing their predictions. “The words represent the past, the future, and the present. By taking the advice of the past, we can understand the possible paths of the future, and the bones channel these, so that we can know now what will happen later.” She must have seen the confusion in her eyes, because she offered the bones to her. “You will understand better when you try.”

She took them and summoned the words to her mind, envisioned them tumbling from her lips as the dice tumbled from her hands. “Manin, Wyrda, Hugin.”

There was no power behind them, and the bones clunked heavily on the surface. Something had gone wrong.

Her mother shook her head. “These words are your links to time, not just trinkets with little significance. Use them like they meansomething.”

She tried again, pouring all her concentration into the six syllables. “Manin! Wyrda! Hugin!”

Still nothing. The bones did not sing like they were meant to.

“You do not yet understand the passage of magic. Maybe I was wrong, and you are too young.” There was not despair or disappointment in her mother’s voice, only a calm acceptance.

“No, give me one last chance.”

She could picture the taken-aback look on her mother’s fine features- it had not been a question, but a statement- but she knew she could do this. Third time was the charmed, after all.

This time she did not concentrate on the words as she said them, but on them as a whole. On their meanings together.

Together they were Time, the essence of all things. She drew them together.

A burning heat built in her palms, and she let go of the dice in a panic. As her eyes flew open, - when had she closed them? – she noticed that their movements seemed slow and lazy, a relaxed, spiralling movement. A whole future was spread before her thoughts, in shards of fire and ice and soft-coloured light, ashes and stars and blood-red sunsets. The bones were her medium, and they followed her vision.

Clinking broke through the images, and she returned to the present. Both she and her mother stared at the bones.

“What do they mean?” she asked. Her mother did not answer.

They sat in silence.

“Angela!” called her father from below. Both started, and her mother shook her head. 

“I do not like that name.”

“Why?”

“It is not the truth. It is not the name I gave to you.”

Suddenly angered, she stood up. “But it is still my name.”

“You are the last of your kind! You must take up the mantle.”

“No, I am not,” she snarled. “I am the only one of my kind. Your blood runs through me, but not just yours. Why should I not take the name that seems right to me?”

Angela walked out of the room.

“You have grown up too fast,” murmured her mother, but she could not hear her. 

-

Smoke wound its way through the house, so thick Angela could not even gather the breath to scream. She knocked into several pieces of furniture, lurched into the door, fumbled with its handle, staggered outside. As soon as she was clear of the swirling, smouldering wreckage, she fell to her knees, gasping frenziedly for the thin air.

Seconds, minutes- hours? days?- later, a slender, soot-stained hand laid itself on her shoulder.

“Where is father?” she asked.

Her mother said nothing.

Tears streamed down her face, half from the smoke, half from the sorrow.

She cursed the fire that had taken half her heart.

The pair, mother and daughter, fled the burning carcass. Every time the younger stopped, the elder urged her on. They cannot catch us. They cannot catch us.

One week later, a week of aching feet and empty tear ducts, they stopped. The golden dragon eyed them curiously, a young elf with silver hair tied back mirroring his expression.

“Eka aí fricai,” said her mother, trying not to let exhaustion enter her voice. She presented a ring for the man to see. He nodded mutely, then turned to Angela.

“She is my daughter, she means you no harm.” assured her mother, almost frantically, but he did not heed her words.

A sharp blade poked at her mind.

No, she thought.

The elf swayed back, clearly shocked.

“My mind is mine alone,” Angela asserted. “Do not try it.”

Another presence brushed gently against her barriers, and for a second she thought he had disregarded her advice, but it was a different signature. Tentatively, she let it in.

Forgive my Rider,thought the dragon. Oromis is rash, and, dare I say it, a little overprotective of me. He refuses to trust anyone without proof of their loyalty to peace. I am Glaedr.

It is… a pleasure to meet you, Glaedr.

Oromis was scowling at her. She smiled back. “I wouldn’t keep on like that. If you frown too much, your face gets frozen like that. Forever.”

He raised an eyebrow, but attempted to quickly and subtly rearrange his face into something more amenable. Angela tried to hide a laugh. Glaedr didn’t bother disguising his.

He sighed. “I suppose I have to take you to Vrael and Evandar now.”

“That would be best,” replied her mother. Both valiantly tried to ignore the giggling girl and dragon.

That was the first time Angela flew on a dragon. When she next did, several hundred years later, she remembered an old friend and, though she did not cry for him, she thought of him with sadness in her heart.

-

Her mother left Du Weldenvarden in the middle of the night, after four years of she and Angela staying there. 

She did not take Angela with her.

Something cold buried itself in her heart then. In one desperate attempt to warm herself, she took the knucklebones left (accidentally or on purpose, she did not know) on the dresser and thought of Time.

Her hands blazed, and she looked into a pair of violet eyes. Scenes of flames and death reflected in the orbs. She thought she heard a scream. 

When the scene cleared, the bones were still in her hands. A black cat with too-large canines and the same purple eyes as in the vision was sat in front of her.

Hello.

Hello. Who are you?

Solembum. I heard you were leaving.

She hadn’t realised it before, but yes, she had been meaning to leave.

Are you coming with me?

Perhaps.

She shrugged, and left the treehouse, tucking the bones into her pocket. 

It was rare for Ellesméra to be as empty as it was, even at night, but Angela used it to her advantage, wondering if she really could leave without anybody noticing.

Of course, her luck wasn’t that good.

An elf stepped into her path, one with silvery-white hair and twinkling grey eyes. He held a dagger out toward her.

“Glídrin?” 

“I had a dream,” he replied. “One day I am sure you will need this.”

She took the knife. It gleamed a soft red, even in the dark night.

“I’m afraid it only has one use left.”

She smiled up at him. “It only takes one stab to kill someone.”

He smiled back, but it quickly melted off his face. “Oromis will miss you.”

“I will miss him too. But perhaps we’ll meet again one day.”

He nodded.

She left.

[nightingaletrash]

I'm returning the same set because these are some good questions: 2, 3, 4, 5, 8, and 9 for the Jacob and MC asks 😊

ahhhhhhhhhhhhh thank you :D

2. How did you come up with your MC and Jacob’s backstory (family, where they’re from, their relationship with each other, etc.)?

Tbh I started out with the intention of messing around with a lil Dadam Jensen AU and not much else, so I had no idea to expect to get so invested into the story and the characters the way I do with Bioware and Bethesda games. As I spent more time playing the game, however, I got very invested in the game’s story and the more I played, the more time I spent coming up with ideas for the Jensen family. Parts of their story I derived from Deus Ex, in which Adam is a canon character, so originally Adam was a single dad who’d separated from Evie and Jacob’s mother, Megan, when Evie was still very young, but Evie talked about her mum so much in game that I started envisioning a whole different character in that role. It changed quite a bit about the family’s history. 

Originally Adam moved the kids from Detroit to the UK after separating from Megan at the request of the Ministry who needed help dealing with the war - Megan was too wrapped up in her work to be a reliable parent and partner, which is why he took the risk in taking the kids. With Kara in the picture, Adam instead came to the UK with his parents whilst he was still a student and transferred from Ilvermony to Hogwarts, so he’d always worked at the Ministry and the kids had always grown up in the UK - namely in Derbyshire. It also influenced Evie’s development as a character and she became more fleshed out within that particular verse.

Evie and Jacob’s relationship is based pretty much on what I wish I could have had with my older brother when we were growing up. It’s only now that we’re adults that we actually get along and can talk without ripping each other’s throats out, because as kids we didn’t even want to know each other and looking back, I just see a lot of wasted time :/ it also made Jacob’s disappearance harder on Evie, because they got along so well and she was always at his heels and spending time with him, because they went from spending all their time together, to writing all the time and being together during the holidays, to Evie suddenly not having her big brother at all. She could never turn to him for help in her 1st year of school, having spent her life fully expecting for him to be there and looking out for her, and couldn’t ever ask him for advice as her relationships began to change and her world began to change. Yes she has her parents, she’s very close to both of them, but there are somethings that you don’t talk to your parents about and Jacob was always her go-to for that.

3. How did you come up with your version of Jacob?

So Jacob originally didn’t get a lot of focus because I’d not even imagined Evie having a brother at the time I first created the character, which was before I even started playing HPHM.  So the second that Jacob’s name popped up in HPHM, I actually spent a good ten minutes cry-laughing because part of my love of the name Evie comes from Evie Frye in AC:Syndicate… and she has a twin brother… called Jacob.I used Jacob Frye’s most basic character traits (good intentions, heavy handed methods, and humorous) as a sort of template for Jacob Jensen, and then just… let him run wild and decide who he was. My method of development is less coming up with stuff and more start with an initial concept and then let my character telling me about themselves, so essentially he’s decided now is the time to start talking to me about himself and I’ve had the time to sit and think about what he’s told me and how it plays into things.

With the introduction of Duncan and some new information that’s been dropped in 5th year, Jacob’s become a much more focused character. Rather than a sort of concept with a name, he’s become more solid in my mind and feels more like a character than before.

Of course we still have a lot of story left and JC might have plans of their own that deviate from my Jacob a bit, but I’m not above ignoring what game devs establish as canon. I mean what are they gonna do? Break down my door and tell me no? ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

4. How does your MC cope with everything they’ve endured with Jacob, R, and the Vaults?

Pretty much as stated in game - she keeps herself busy. Whether its at the creature reserve, helping out Kettleburn and Hagrid, spending time with Rowan in the library or the common room studying. Evie doesn’t like being idle because it gives her too much time to think and dwell, and it makes her miserable.

She gets bad dreams a lot, which usually end up with Evie crawling into Rowan’s bed because she used to do the same with Jacob, and she really doesn’t want to be alone and needs the comfort. Rowan doesn’t mind, it was her suggestion in the first place when Evie finally admitted to having bad dreams and not being able to sleep after them during their 1st year.

5. How does your Jacob cope with Duncan’s death?

He doesn’t. He was in such a total state of shock when he found out that all he could do was blame himself and take the blame when the staff found out, which led to his expulsion. He locked himself away when he got home because he was still kind of in shock and was still processing what had happened, and then it turned to anger that he directed at the Cabal (and possibly R, I’m waiting on canon to see exactly how everything fits together before I decide if he’s biding his time with them).

He ran away, partly to protect his family from everything he was caught up in, but also because he wanted to avenge Duncan’s death. Ofc a lot of this depends on what we find in the Portrait Vault and anything we learn in future, but if Jacob isn’t in the Vault (which I doubt, and I think Olivia has maybe been posing as Jacob to use MC to free herself) then he’s likely hunting down those responsible for everything that happened to him and his friends. He’s kind of living out his dream of being an Auror. He just does it illegally.

So yeah, he’s not coping.

8. Does your MC have any sentimental items?

Her earring, made from one her mum’s Animgus form’s feathers (a raven, like Evie herself). Kara gave it to her at Platform Nine and Three Quarters as a good luck charm, and Evie would never part with it. Not willingly anyway :)

She also has a necklace given to her by her dad which is enchanted with a warding spell meant to offer her some magical protection during her time at school. He’d rather she not need it, but he knows better than most that it’s better to be safe than sorry. 

9. Does your Jacob have any sentimental items?

He was given an earring on his first day, just like Evie was, but he doesn’t like to wear it because the feather bothered him when it tickled his face. Nowadays he keeps the feather itself in a locket because he worries it would get in the way, but he wants it close anyway.

He was bought a pocket watch for his 17th birthday which he keeps with him at all times as well, and the jacket he wears in Knockturn Alley was one that Adam bought him for his birthday. He made a couple of modifications (like adding the hood and casting magical extension charms on the pockets), and its gotten a little scuffed and worn over the last couple of years, but he takes very good care of it.

[berjhawn]

Elastic Heart - Part 18 - Arguments

Warnings: Fighting, mentions of abuse, mentions of death, ETC

Pairings: Hobbit X OFC; Thranduil X OFC; Fili X OFC; LOTR X OFC

A/N: Since Tumblr is Broke you’ll have to go to my master-list to find all the other parts.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

After a while I walk back toward Thranduil’s tent to hear Gandalf’s voice elevated and angry. “Since when has my council offered so little? What do you think I’m trying to do?” Gandalf says angrily.

“I think you’re trying to save your dwarvish friends, and I admire your loyalty to them. It does not dissuade me from my course. You started this Mithrandir; you will forgive me if I finish it.” Thranduil says before he walks to the tent opening and asks his guards “Are you archers in position?”

“Yes my lord,”

“Give the order if anything moves on that mountain, kill it! The dwarves are out of time.” My heart drops and I clench tightly to Ithildin as I stomp through the tent opening and say, “Mithrandir, Amin merna quen na Thranduil erui?” (I wish to speak to Thranduil alone) Gandalf slowly nods before leaving the two of us alone. 

“What are you doing?” I ask anger seething from my lips.

“I am doing what I must?”

“Are you? It seems to me that you are acting like a pompous arrogant Lord who would start a fight over some measly gems.”

“Who are you to question me? You gave up your nobility a long time ago and for what? A life of travel and freedom, you will forgive me if I do not listen to you.”

I feel my anger reach a limit and I stomp over to him until I am standing a few feet away from him, “I did what I did because I had no right to be Melethril anymore. I was tainted and scarred beyond recognition. Things were done to me that you cannot believe-”

“You could have come to me I would have helped you-”

“Help me?  How were you going to help me? You had just gotten married, and before you ask, yes, I was there the day you were wed. I came to Amon Lanc to find solace in my friend’s arms and I found that even though you claimed to love me you were already married. Did you even mourn my death?”

He stares at me wide eyed as he says, “Why did you not tell me?”

I notice his usually calm face was full of sadness and regret. I sigh as I say, “You looked so happy I didn’t want to ruin it for you with my problems. Look I do not want you to feel bad about what happened. None of it could have been stopped and I know that now.”

He reaches up and I feel his hand gently touch my cheek and slowly move toward my hair until his fingers stop at the spot where Fili had braided a strand of my hair and his eyes fill with anger. “What is this?”

I pull away from him as I say, “It is a braid Thranduil, nothing more.”

“If it is nothing more then why is it there and why does it have a dwarvish clasp holding it together?” He asks and I raise an eyebrow as I start to put the pieces together.

“This isn’t about gems at all is it? You’re jealous of the dwarves.”

“I am not!” He says suddenly defensive.

“You are! Why?” I ask and I watch as his eyes fill with longing and I feel my heart clench. “Thranduil, I do love you; but I also love the dwarves. After losing my father and you they were the only ones to accept me for who I am scarred, tainted, and everything. I treasure my friendship with you just like I treasure my friendship with them. They are like the brothers I never had.”

“Are you sure you only see them as brothers?” He asks and I sigh as I know I can’t hide the truth from him.

“I am in love with one of them.” I say and I instantly regret it as I see the anger in his eyes.

“How do you know you love him, you don’t even know what love is?” He says angrily and I grit my teeth as stand tall.

“I may not know what love is but I know how he makes me feel. He’s the only one who can touch me and not send me into a panic attack. I’m happy when he’s here and I miss him tremendously when he’s gone. I used to feel this way about you but I got rid of those feelings the moment you were married.”

“You loved me?”

“Out of all I just said that is what you heard?”

“If you loved me why were you so set against our marriage?”

“I wanted the right to choose who I would marry, even though I know I would have still chosen you.”

He walks toward me and wraps his arms around me as he says, “You would have made me the happiest Elf in all of Middle Earth.”

I sigh into his shoulder as I remember back when he would hold me for no reason at all. But suddenly Fili’s face pops into my mind and I gently pull away from him and say, “But I have fallen for someone else and my loyalty lies with him.”

“If your loyalty lies with him then why are you here?”

“Because the people of Laketown needed help, he would have done the same if the roles were reversed.”

“I doubt that.” He says and I clench my fists to keep from hitting him.

“Thranduil you are my friend but if you speak about Fili like that again I will hurt you.”

“What do you plan to do after this war is over? After all he is a dwarf and not immortal, he will die and you will once again be left alone; just like you were when your father died.”

I gulp down a breath of air as I say, “I will cross that bridge when it comes.”

“You, Bowman, did you agree with this?” Gandalf asks as he strides up to Bard. “Is gold so important to you, you would bide with the blood of dwarves?”

“It will not come to that, It is a fight they cannot win.” Bard says as his face turned worried.

“That won’t stop them. You think the dwarves will surrender they won’t they will fight to the death to defend their own.” I hear a familiar voice say and turn to see Bilbo standing a few feet away from us.

“Bilbo Baggins!” Gandalf exclaims causing Bilbo to smile.

“If I’m not mistaken this is the Halfling that stole the keys to my dungeons out from under the nose of my guards.” Thranduil says and I smirk as I remember Bilbo saving us.

“Yesh, sorry bout that.” Bilbo says and I smile into my hand.  I glance over to see Bard smirking as well. “I came here to give you this.” He says as he sets a beautiful stone down on the table. My eyes widen as I realize that it is in fact the Arkenstone. It was beautiful.

“The heart of the mountain? The kings jewel.” Thranduil says in shock.

“He’ll offer a king’s ransom.” Bard says as he joins Thranduil next to the table. “How is this yours to give?” Bard asks as he slowly turns toward Bilbo.

“I took it as my 14th share of the treasure.” Bilbo says and I find a soft smile crossing my lips.

“Why would you do this you owe us no loyalty.” Bard says shocked.

“I’m not doing it for you. I know that dwarves can be obstinate, pigheaded, and difficult. Suspicious and secretive, with the worst manners you can possibly imagine; but they’re also brave, and kind, loyal to a fault. I’ve grown very fond of them and I would save them if I can. Now Thorin values this stone above all else, in exchange for its return I believe he will give you what you are owe. There will be no need for war.”

Bilbo looks from me to Gandalf who meets eyes with Bard before he turns to Thranduil who looks back at him. I gently touch Bilbo’s shoulder as I give him a reassuring smile. Then Gandalf, Bilbo, and myself leave the tent. I glance back to see Thranduil staring off after me but I just look away. I didn’t need to think about his jealousy at the moment.

“I’m glad to see you survived the dragon Bilbo.” I say as I smile down at him. He smiles back up at me as he says, “You sure gave us a shock when we saw you behind Bard at the gate; then again when you left with him.” I sigh and open my mouth to reply but he stops me as he says, “I know why you did, I would have done the same.”

“Thank you Bilbo,” I say as I once again match his pace before I say, “How are they by the way?”

He chuckles as he says, “They would be better if Thorin would wake from his sickness.” I nod slowly my face falling a little, I was happy that they were all alive but I was sad that I wasn’t with them.

“It was good to see you my friend, if you don’t mind I’m going to go get some rest before tomorrow. Goodnight Bilbo, Gandalf.” I say as I slowly walk away from them and toward Frieda’s home. When I arrive Mahrie is making dinner for Frieda.

“Randír!” I hear Frieda’s voice call out and I smile as she runs over into my arms.

“Mae Govannen Frieda,” I say as I hold her in my arms.

“Mommy made dinner will you have some?”

“Not tonight, I’m actually very tired; but you eat lots for me.” I say as I slowly set her down and walk up to the top of their little home that they were using for now. the very top looked out over all of Dale plus had a very good view of the gates of Erebor. As I look at the mountain I feel my heart clench and bite my lip. I wanted nothing more than to run to the dwarves and rejoin them but I knew as along as Thorin was victim to the Dragon-sickness I knew I couldn’t. I curl up in a corner before feeling my eyes slowly close sending me into a dream.

Will Continue - 

[wonderlandmind4]

Delicate Stages: Epilogue

Pairings: Bucky Barnes x OFC Ana Rios

Warnings: Language, mild PTSD. Explicit Sexual Content 18+. Mentions of Nightmares, Minor Character Death

Summary: Bucky Barnes agrees to participate in Deprogramming Sessions. What he gets is not anything like he expected.

Sometimes I wonder when you sleep Are you ever dreaming of me....cause I know this is delicate...

Words: 7.5k+ @justreadingfics @nerdyandproud9 @buffy-morgendorffer-01 @kat-lives

A/N: Here we are. This is the end of Delicate Stages. First, thank you to everyone who read, liked and commented on this monster of a story! I seriously can not thank you all enough. Thank you for being patient with me as I dealt with my loss, so I also really appreciate that. Thank you to my friend who allowed me to text her all sorts of silly little things and for helping me get my head straight when I needed it. I can't tell you the amount of sleepless nights and down time at work I had to write this story. This has become my baby, and I'm really proud of it and I'm baffled by the attention and praise it's received. With all that said, please enjoy, the final chapter of Delicate Stages.

10 months later:

The past ten months have been a fucked up roller coaster ride.

It starts only three days after Bucky drove out of Ana’s life. Max finds her, pulling her outside on the patio and carefully wrapping his arms around her in one of the longest hugs she’s ever received. He sits her down, then solemnly tells her the bad news.

Jared Sharp has passed away.

Although Ana has already heard a summary of what happened, Max divulges his side of the story. Jared was the one to realize what was happening, how he ran along with Max to help them out, and when they got there, Jared tried stopping it. He was critically shot and Max tried everything he could to keep him from bleeding out.

She’s heard this up until that point. Max continues, tells her that Jared asked if he saved her, and for some reason, he lied. It made Jared smile, said that Alex would be happy, and that was the last thing he said before he passed out. His body couldn’t come back from the trauma of the wound and gave out.

Ana had been peering out into the distance while Max talked. Her eyes sting, she blinks once, twice. Something wet falls onto her cheek and she realizes then that she’s crying. Her and Jared never got along while working, and he may have hated and blamed her for the wrong reasons, but he was trying to make up for it. They were beginning to get to know one another, understand each other. Her brother loved him for plenty of reasons, and Ana is disheartened that they could have been friends for more than a few weeks.

In the end, Jared wanted to protect Alex’s sister. He wanted to prevent anything further, he wanted to save her and Bucky, and it earned him a bullet to his chest. Ana leans forward, allowing Max to gather her in his arms as she cries quietly against his chest. She mourns the loss of Jared Sharp.

The long days morph into longer nights- some sleepless, some filled with nightmares of the aftermath- busy days, tear filled showers, bottles of wine, and working non stop. Especially after discovering the little notebooks Bucky left behind just for her. Honestly, Ana thinks it would just have been better if he'd taken those with him, instead of leaving them in a neat pile in her nightstand for her to find. Then, as she goes through them, page after page filled with nothing but his thoughts about her, she thinks, maybe not.

The first time she had gotten the nerve to go through one, she cried. Well, she laughed, then cried, maybe it was a mixture of both. She swears James Buchanan Barns could be a famous poet if he wanted to. It's these words, his words, his thoughts and feelings, that Ana rereads over and over, keeps close to her heart, and under her pillow. She feels slightly pathetic. She just misses him every single day, and Bucky's words just reassure her that no matter how much time passes, no matter how far the distance, no matter where he is, that he still loves her. That he will come back to her like he promised. It's her little bit of home she holds onto.

Home isn't a place, it's a person, it's a feeling; Bucky took that with him.

It's been a week since Ana has cracked open one of the little books, the binding worn by this point. It's not her fault, she's been keeping busy, more than usual. She's been working in the Medical Ward, offering her reports and help to any agents and Avengers coming back from missions. 

Ana has absolutely refused to join any new mission and not just because of her knee, to the point of where Tony no longer asks her. She'd rather just sit back, wait anxiously while cuddling Ezra, and do her Empathetic Healing. She tries not to use her Energy Alchemy anymore, at least, not until it stops making her weak.

Sometimes, while she's waiting, or alone in the compound, Ana wonders into Bucky's room. She's already took all his pillows, now piled up on her bed, and a left over shirt or two, but she sits on his mattress, staring at a navy blue hat he left behind. Sometimes, she falls asleep, curled up in the middle of the bed that still smells like him, and sometimes she wakes up to Steve covering her with a blanket. When that happens, he doesn't coax her to get up or move into her room, instead, he sits beside her, pats his lap for her to rest her head on, until she drifts off again. Misery loves company, they say.

The last seven days however, have been crazy. Ana had been dealing with filing reports, even proof reading others, and the team just came back from a four day mission, uncovering yet another HYDRA base. 

The mission went smoothly, but Steve still came back pissed off, and it took Ana quite some time to calm him. To be honest, she didn't try that hard, because when Steve becomes angry about the situation, it allows Ana to let her own feelings out because, yes. She is still upset and angry, and fuck, she just misses Bucky.

As does Steve, who takes it out on the punching bag next to her favorite one. When Ana catches him during these times, she challenges him to knock all the bags off the chains, they end up making a game out of it. Ana punches with all her might, until she can no longer control her powers, using energy to blast the bag right off. It always ends with them falling to the mat laughing. It’s cathartic for them both.

*

Three hundred and twenty-three days later, Ana is banging her head against the island marble top. She hasn't emailed Telly in a long time, both busy with their own lives and projects, but Ana is stuck on a mental health device that Tony has been trying to come up with and inquired her help. The concept being able to replicate what Ana can do, by healing the mind from emotional and psychological trauma. Maybe she if smacks her head hard enough it'll knock her intelligence back into her brain.

“You’re going to give yourself a concussion, and I will not be explaining that to Pepper.”

“Why? Because your fiancé will have your ass if I’m hurt?”

There’s a hand now between her forehead and the counter top, cushioning her blows. Ana narrows her eyes at Tony as he picks her head up.

“Why don’t you take a vacation?” He offers, his dark eyes flashing in concern.

“I agree!” Steve shouts from the couch as he sits up straighter, overly eager.

“Me too!” Wanda pipes in, pulling her attention away from the card game she’s teaching Vision. Those two have been growing closer and closer the past several months.

“I can’t. I’m too busy.” Ana glares at both of them.

Sam, who has been eating his lunch on the patio speaks up. “Not too busy to clean my wings! Four times. They didn’t even need a cleaning.”

Ana rolls her eyes.

“It was entertaining to watch you do that though.” Comes Natasha’s voice from behind her.

Ana spins in her chair not at all hearing her walk in. She snatches the untouched spoon and jar of Nutella that has been sitting next Ana for a while. She hasn’t cracked it open, mainly because it was making her sad. She still has the one Bucky gave her on her bookshelf. No one touches it.

“It wasn’t a suggestion.” Tony asserts, ignoring everyone. “I’m telling you. Start packing and pick a location, anywhere you want to go and I’ll have my jet bring you there.”

She groans.

“Why don’t you visit your friend? That pen pal of yours.” Steve suggests, giving Tony a pointed look over her shoulder.

“Pen pal.” Ana mutters while Natasha leans against the counter, quirking an eyebrow at him.

Tony claps his hands together. “Yes. Besides, Pepper will have my ass for real if she finds out how stressed you’ve been.”

“I am not s-”

“You’re hair has been falling out and FRIDAY clocked your BP at 139 for at least-”

“Okay, I got it, thanks.” Ana snaps.

It’s true, she’s been purposely overworking herself. Jumping from one agent to the next, then the issue with helping Peter Parker’s Aunt May come to terms with finding the truth about his identity as Spider-Man. Which was shocking news to everyone, minus Tony. Not to mention the lack of sleep and still ignoring the Bucky shaped hole in her heart.

“Fine.” She sighs exaggeratedly. “I’ll go visit Telly.”

“Thank god. All this negative energy was making me antsy.” Wanda teases, wiggling her fingers.

“Negative!?” She pauses, then shrugs. “Hush and help me pack.”

***

Wakanda is the most beautiful, stunning place Ana has ever seen in her life. The scenery blooms in front of her eyes, the color of the sky seem more vibrant, as do the plants, the landscape. It's the incredibly advance technology that has her mind reeling. It takes her breath away. She can't help thinking, as she slowly and takes in all the new sights with wonder, that Bucky would adore this place. She ignores the pang of longing in her heart.

Ana arrives to her destination, the ramp of the jet she came in lowers as she goes to grabs her bags. She’s stopped by one of the stunning women who had offered to pick her up in the first place. She introduced herself as Okoye. She politely holds her hand out, her dark skin almost illuminating in the sunlight along with her intricate red and gold uniform. Ana insists she can carry her own bags, that it isn't a problem, until the woman levels her with a stern look.

Once Ana exits the jet, she's led down a beautiful hallway, that leads into a wide, expansive laboratory. Her mouth drops open. The ceilings are high, two entire walls display floor to ceiling windows overlooking the countryside. There’s a plethora of technological advance machines and devices, all futuristic and expensive; Ana is afraid to walk too close to them, lest she break something. Everything in this lab makes the one back home look like a child's play toy. They come to a halt on the left side of the lab, behind someone standing by a table of weapons.

"Princess Shuri," Okoye introduces a tilt of her golden spear. “AnaRosa Rios."

Ana balks at that, because Princess!? Telly sent the Princess of Wakanda to greet her? "Uh-" She squeaks dumbly, blinking in surprise.

The young woman, a teenager, dressed in all white with multiple braided hair wrapped up into a bun, turns. She beams brightly, waving excitedly. Then it clicks. Telly is Princess Shuri of Wakanda, which means she is the sister of T'Challa, the Black Panther. The King of Wakanda. Holy shit.

Shuri rushes to her, Ana automatically opens her arms to greet her with a hug. It isn't awkward or weird, since they've talked for so long, have shared so much, that it feels like a seeing an old friend who's moved away. Once they pull back, they break out into giddy chit chat and laughter, mainly because Ana had no idea who Telly truly was, but Telly- Shuri, knew who Ana was for a while. That is, until Shuri reminded her that she did in fact introduce herself way back in their first message to each other. Ana is just dumb and was overly impressed by her intelligence that she just opted to nickname her Telly.

Shuri pulls back completely, squatting down until she's level with Ana's knee. “How’s your knee holding up in this rusted thing?" She inquires with a beautiful accent. "Brother told me it was damaged again. Stark technology failed?”

Ana shrugs sheepishly. “In his defense, I don’t think he was prepared for a five pronged electrical disk to be shoved into my knee? It somehow countered the rods between the bones and disabled them. That's a lie. It literally yanked them from my bones." She winces like she can still feel the pain from the moment it happened. Her entire knee throbs occasionally, even with the temporary brace she is currently wearing.

Shuri pursues her lips. “Hmmm. It was painful, yes?” She gently taps the brace with her fingers.

“Excruciating.”

“Why did you wait so long to see me?" She stands up, crossing her arms. "I offered to help when you told me about your knee the first time."

Ana waves her hand around. “I was really busy and I was handling the pain the best way I could. I’m here now though.”

Shuri looks like she wants to say something else, but hooks her arm with Ana's own. “Come. I’ve got a surprise for you.”

She steers Ana towards the opposite side of the room, past the little workshops with objects she can’t quite see. She tries taking in the amazing sights of the laboratory, but she's being pulled too quickly. They head towards the Health and Healing area in the back, stopping by the Wakandan version of an MRI machine. Ana’s eyes widen, she drops her arm.

“Oh my god.” She breathes.

Shuri nudges her arm. “I thought you’d like it.”

Ana is amazed. “Shuri, you literally built a knee. This is incredible!”

The artificial knee appears more advanced than anything she has ever seen. It’s navy blue, nearly black in color, clearly made from a material not yet accessible to other countries. A thin piece of what looks like golden cartilage cushions the joints, along with golden tendons and ligaments.

Ana steps up to the table, examining the artificial knee. “It operates like a real one, right? No limited range of motion?”

“Correct. It’s better than a real one. It’s one-hundred percent vibranium. It's kinetic as well, so it’ll absorb any shock impact and converts it into energy.” Shuri explains excitedly. "Goes perfectly with what you can do. The surgery for it isn’t as invasion as a normal, less advanced knee replacement. Your recovery would be days, weeks possbily, rather than months.”

Ana claps her hands, ecstatic. “Does that mean I have my leg strength back?”

Shuri laughs. “Yes! You can land a powerful strike. The best part however, it converts into a positive source of energy throughout your body. I gathered all the information you told me and decided to build it that way to give you more endurance.”

“You're amazing, Shuri.” Ana compliments, focusing back on the knee to take in the details.

“One other thing.”

Ana turns to face her, eager to learn more. Then her heart stops in her chest, air ceasing in her lungs. She can barely feel her expression melt into shock and briefly thinks that she is going into shock. Time seems to stand still, and a warmth begins to spread throughout her bones. The breath she had been holding in without her knowledge leaves her mouth in a quiet huff. It takes her seventeen seconds to breathe again.

Bucky.

Bucky is standing there. 

Bucky is standing right there. Bucky is standing several feet behind Shuri, who is probably smiling so wide, but Ana doesn’t see her. She doesn’t see anyone or anything surrounding her other than Bucky. Bucky who has a soft little grin on his lips as he stares back at her. Bucky, who she had been dreaming of standing in front of her for months, is right there.

Ana has to be certain this is real before she truly reacts. She blinks rapidly, but the illusion doesn’t disappear. She twists her injured knee until it hurts, but she isn’t dreaming. Bucky is wearing a white tunic, threaded with intricate designs that look important, royal. His trousers are a gray loose fitting material leading to his bare feet. 

Clearly the past ten months has done him good, since he now has a brand new prosthetic arm, sleek and dark blue interlaced with gold. It’s his face though, that kickstarts Ana’s heart up again. He looks serene. His blue eyes are bright and clear as the sky, popping vividly against the color of his shirt. Any cuts and scabs are long gone, and half his hair is twisted back into a bun, the length now just above his shoulders.

“Hi Annie.”

It’s daybreak after the longest period of darkness. That simple nickname, that gentle little greeting finally makes Ana’s feet unglue from the floor. This is real, and Bucky is real and it’s not another heart wrenching dream. 

Ana sprints towards him, closing the few feet between them. She jumps, Bucky catching her instantly, wrapping her thighs around his hips. Ana kisses him. Bucky tightens his arms around her waist, pressing her close and kissing her back with fervor.

“Your knee!” Shuri cackles from somewhere behind them. They ignore her. “Love sick colonizers.”

Ana’s hands are in his hair, gripping and pulling his head closer. Their mouths open against each other’s and she has missed the way he tastes. Bucky moves his arm up her back, his own fingers tangling in her hair, kissing her harder. It’s bruising and perfect, ignites a furnace deep within her soul. Ana begins to slip, so she drops her legs, but Bucky holds her tighter to his chest. Unfortunately, they break apart, just barely, grinning wildly against each others mouths. Bucky brings his right hand up to cup her jaw.

“You came back to me.” Ana whispers, tears welling up in her eyes.

Bucky laughs softly, freely, and it’s the best sound she has ever heard. “Promised I would, love.” He kisses her again.

Her hand slips from his long, soft hair, falling onto his left shoulder. She breaks the kiss once more, gazing up into his watery blue eyes. “I’ve missed you.”

“You have no idea.” He exhales, swiping his thumbs along her cheekbones. He peaks her nose. “I have missed your pretty eyes.”

Ana melts into him. “How are you feeling?”

“Good. Better. Brand new.”

Overwhelming relief crashes over. Ana beams, tears escaping her eyes. She’s so happy in this moment.

“I love you.” Bucky conveys strongly, nudging his forehead against hers.

"I love you, too. Oh my god. This is real right? Please, please tell me you're real."

"I'm very real, doll face."

"God." Ana reaches up to tug his hair, only to pull him back down for another long, overdue kiss.

“I’m fixed, Ana, it’s gone.” He mumbles against her mouth.

She pulls back, completely gobsmacked. “What- I mean- how- what?”

Bucky smiles so wide, his eyes squint, those cute crinkles appearing by the corners. “Shuri. She did this thing with-” he breaks off laughing as Ana places quick little pecks all over his face, “-the scientists and the-” Ana kisses his mouth, “-thing."

“Very eloquently put.” Shuri cackles behind them.

Ana grabs either side of his head, slipping her fingers into his thick, long hair, accidentally loosening the bun. She rubs her thumbs against his temples, senses his warm energy seeping into hers. 

“Fuck,” She mutters, beaming at him. “I’m so happy for you, baby. How do you feel?” She has to ask again.

“Free.”

The rapidly beating heart swells even more inside her chest. Her stomach flutters, warmth spreading throughout her veins. All she ever wanted was for Bucky to be free from Hydra’s monstrous tentacles. Ana weeps from joy.

Gentle thumbs wipe away her tears, as Bucky tenderly hushes her with sweet little coos. Once she gathers herself, she turns around in his arms, Bucky wrapping them around her chest. 

“Shuri, this is incredible. You are incredible!” Ana exclaims. “How were you able to do it?"

"Come! I'll show you!" She chirps excitingly, grabbing Ana's arm, pulling her from Bucky’s hold to dragging her across the lab. 

He makes a noise of protest, but Shuri ignores him. They come to a stop by a large holographic digital panel. She taps her fingers swiftly on the screen until images of what must be Bucky's brain pop up.

"We used our most sophisticated bi-scanners to create a one on one digital representation of his brain." The insanely intelligent princess explains, expanding one of the images. "The progress we made was tested and retested again in the digital construct, that way there was no damage to the physical brain tissue."

She turns her attention on Ana. "I was worried about that. If the tissue would be damaged in the process of deprogramming the words, of pulling them apart, since they were basically embedded into his DNA at that point. All interictally woven."

Ans shakes her head in disbelief. She knew how deep HYDRA's brainwashing went, seventy years of wiping his mind and repeating those words made a giant impact. A long term affect.

"As you already knew," Shuri continues, "there was no simple solution to just erase mental programming, especially after 7 decades. There's no delete button, and you were right, Ana. The majority of his programming was linked to the trigger words. The last thing we wanted to do was remove all of who Sergeant Barnes was. All his loves, his hates, his whole personality- when trying to destroy what Hydra made him into. 

“The hardest part was rooting out the extent of his memories that had the greatest amount of control over his physical actions. The ones that had been manipulated due to their deep emotional trauma. Which was quite a few."

Ana hums in agreement, surprisingly able to follow along. Shuri goes on.

"I ran an algorithm that was able to flush the influence of the trigger words out, all while retaining the core context of those original memories. Essentially, I was able reboot him."

"Does-" Ana speaks up, her voice raspy, taking all the information in. She clears her throat. "Does that mean, his memories..."

"They're all there." She grins brightly at her. "All his memories, and traits, everything that makes Sergeant Barnes himself, is all there. Old memories, and new ones, important ones."

She places a gentle hand on Ana's shoulder. "I was careful. I made sure to keep all his memories with you intact as well. The healing session you told me about, evidently, helped me out more than expected. By performing that, you essentially tied stronger, newer memories, thoughts, feelings, loves, into his brain.

“It was much easier to separate what Sergeant Barnes felt with those memories, what he began to associate the former trigger words, as good. Even beforehand, the words weren't as deeply rooted as I anticipated. Which is a result from your Deprogramming Sessions as well."

Ana frowns, befuddled. She had been staring at Bucky as he fawned over the vibrainum knee meant for her. Bucky glances up, and she tears her eyes away, locking her gaze back to Shuri. She mulls the words over in her mind for several long moments, her heart picking up speed just a little at the implication.

"So...what you are saying is-"

"You did not fail me." Bucky's voice interrupts her from behind.

Ana turns, blinking. He was just on the other side of the room two seconds ago. He's smiling at her, that one where his mouth is tilted up to right, and the corners of his eyes are soft.

"Precisely." Shuri concurs. "If it weren't for you, our process would have been longer and much more invasive. This took around fourth and a half months. It would have been quicker, but our country briefly had civil disagreements with an outsider."

"Wait. Then I really didn't..." Ana shakes her head again, trying to comprehend all of this information.

Everything she has been beating herself up with, everything she felt immensely guilty of, that weighed on her like 20-ton weights, wasn't true. That she truly did not fail in helping him. All those nights she spent crying into her pillow, all the nights she spent alone in their spot on the roof, driving herself into a nearly depressed tail spin. All that time she spent knowing that she could have done more, that maybe if she did something differently, that none of what happened would have happened.

"Annie."

The nickname she once despised pulls her from her thoughts. Bucky is standing a few inches in front of her, placing careful hands on her cheeks, his touch delicate. Ana revels in the contrast of his hands, warm and cool, allowing it to ground her. She's beginning to feel overwhelmed with everything from the past hour. Arriving in a place she had no idea exist until a day ago, thinking she was here to visit for a new knee, then having Bucky surprise her, to the information about how Shuri and her team were able to fully deprogram him. She feels dizzy.

"You with me, darling?" Bucky murmurs, smoothing his thumbs over her cheekbones. His eyes are so incredibly blue, and she is drowning in them. Wants to drown in them forever.

"I didn't fail you?" She breathes, still trying to comprehend it. She brings her hands up, curling her fingers over his wrists.

His eyes crinkle as his expressions turns fond. “No, you didn't. You were a big part in helping me." He leans closer, pressing his forehead against hers. "Between you and I, you were the greatest part. You are the greatest part."

Then he kisses her, gentle and tantalizing, the sensation melting right down to her bones. It causes her knees to buckle, her right one throbbing, but the love of her life wraps his arms around her shoulders and waist, supporting her against his body. Ana can't help it, a few tears escaped once more as she hugs Bucky around his back.

Shuri decides to speak up. "Your broken white boy is fixed!" She exclaims.

Not expecting that at all, Ana pulls away cackling loud and unabashed. She barely hears Bucky sigh, before she turns and launched herself at Shuri, embracing her in a tight hug.

"You are an exceptional genius!" Ana tells her, tears still blurring her vision. "Thank you, thank you, thank you!"

Her friend laughs in her ear before she leans back. "When my brother told me exactly who Sergeant Barnes was-

"Bucky, Shuri." He interjects. He's ignored.

"-I had to help." She goes on as if Bucky hadn't said a word. "Not just for scientific reason, which is a major breakthrough for Wakandan artificial intelligence, but for the both of you as well. You became extremely sad in your emails, Ana, and his most recent memories were just as sad. I knew this would make you both happy. Captain Rogers too."

Ana beams at her, until it clicks in her brain. She takes a step back. "Oh my god, Steve knew this entire time!"

No wonder he was eager to take Ana here. That little fucking punk. When she gets back she's going to smack Steve in the face with his shield, then she’s going to have to thank him in the biggest way possible when she goes back. She looks at Bucky, who is laughing now, his mouth open and head tilted back.

If she goes back.

***

"You've been sitting on a never-ending supply of Winter theme nicknames for him, and I'm only now finding out about it?" Shuri asks, crossing her arms and glaring at Bucky.

It took a while for Ana and Bucky's reunion to die down, even having several of the Wakadans working in the lab clapping for them. It felt physically impossible to pull away from each other, and even now, Ana has her arms around his lower back, her head pressed against his chest over his beating heart. Bucky has his flesh hand in her hair, his left hugging her spine.

"I think you have plenty of your own nicknames for me." Bucky responds flatly. Ana perks up at that. "No. I'm not telling you either, darling. This information is very dangerous in both your hands."

"I'll just tell her later." Shuri winks at her.

"You don't stand a chance, Bucky." Ana simpers. She hears him huff exasperated. "You love me." She leans back to look at him, and he's already peering down at her.

"With every fiber of my being." He tells her with conviction.

Her heart swells. "I've missed you. I love you."

He kisses her deeply, until Shuri clears her throat. Bucky pulls back, shrugging unashamed. "I’ve missed those nine gold dots.” He gently brushes his thumb under her eye. “Would you like to see where I live?"

Ana ignores the little pang in her heart at the words. "That sounds like a line, Buck."

They stare at each other, goofy grins on their faces. Ana feels likw this is her own  homecoming, wrapped up in his arms.

"Go, go." Shuri shoos before Bucky can reply. "Enjoy your time, Ana. We can talk knee replacement surgery when you are ready. No rush.”

***

White Wolf.

It's what the Wakandans dubbed Bucky. It's what T'Challa and Shuri named him during his recovery. Ana finds out that the people have essentially adopted Bucky and have accepted him into their society and culture. He explains all of this to her, as she traces her fingers all over his new arm that seems utterly benign.

She can't get over the beauty of the vibranium prosthetic. It's so very different from the other, then again, this new arm was made with careful tenderness from people who genuinely hold Bucky's interest as important. As someone who is indeed a human, with complex thoughts and emotions. Someone who isn't viewed as a weapon, as an asset.

Bucky allows her to play with his fingers, twisting and turning his wrist, pulling his bicep closer to her face. The technology is amazing, beautiful. The design reminds her of the kintsukuroi artwork she has in her room. Ana traces every single line of gold she sees; around his fingers, his knuckles, the lines in his palm, around his wrist, up his forearm, over his bicep.

"To repair with gold." She whispers, accidentally interrupting Bucky.

He stops talking and laces his fingers with hers. Then he lifts her hand to his mouth, kissing her knuckles. Ana smiles at him, before leaning into him, kissing him softly on the lips. As he brings his right hand up to rest against her chest and taps her collarbone, she vaguely remembers never believing in a one true love before. But as they sit alone on the freight train that takes them from the Lab, through the city and into the country side, she thinks maybe she was wrong.

*

Bucky quite literally pulls Ana along through a small village made up of scattered huts. Animals ranging from chickens, to sheep, dogs and even some cats run around. He shows her around the little farm he works on three days a week. He points out the animals, the little goats and sheep, some chickens and lambs. He points out his favorite little goat, who he named Rosa because she's a stubborn little thing that likes to kick at hay bills. The fact that Ana's full name ends with Rosa doesn't go unnoticed, and Bucky blushes when she mentions. He tells her that moving hay bills and other manual labor makes him feel whole, that he can be helpful.

Bucky admits, his voice quiet as he pets Rosa on the head, that most days he doesn't even use his left arm. Keeping it locked in a case up in the lab and working with just his right arm makes him feel more human; feels more like himself. That during this recovery process, he had begun accepting himself as who he was. It made Bucky feel like he wasn't just a weapon, and his old Soviet made arm was just an everyday reminder that for seventy plus years, that's all he was.

"I think that's why I was always so cautious with it around you." Bucky confesses, voice barely above a whisper. "All I saw was this horrific thing that could hurt you and I couldn't get rid of. I was stuck with it."

Ana  understands, and to convey that she does, she presses a light kiss to his temple. As Bucky leads them towards the furthest hut just on the outskirts of a small lake, they're surrounded by children with beautiful dark skin, dressed in traditionally wraps with white and yellow tribal paint on their faces. They're all shouting in their native language, but the kind expression on Bucky's face tells Ana that they're calling his name. Not Bucky; White Wolf.

He drops her hand in favor of picking up one of the smallest boys, swinging him around in the air. The child giggles brightly as the others all eagerly wait their turn, pining for his attention. Ana's heart blooms warmth, her cheeks beginning to hurt from smiling so wide. Bucky is so at ease here, content and comfortable, and the little pang gently kicks at her stomach. Ana ignores it once more as she is suddenly being pulled toward the lake by three girls, who then force her to sit on a boulder.

Bucky makes his way over to them after several minutes of throwing each child up into the air. He chuckles under his breath when he sees the braids in Ana's hair. The girls have been chatting excitedly, and although she doesn't understand a word, she's content to sit there and listen, taking in the life of the small village. Some of the older villagers offer her friendly waves and smiles, an elderly woman stopping by once to hand her some beads to give to the girls.

"They're saying you have thick beautiful hair." Bucky translate her as he sits down.

One of the youngers boys from earlier had follow him, and climbs into Ana's lap, taking her hands and playing with her fingers. "I figured." She smiles over at him. "They love you here."

"Yeah, I guess they do." He agrees, pinching one of the tan beads in her hair.

"Umfazi!" The girl behind her giggles. "Umfazi!"

Bucky clears his throat and turns to playfully poke the girl in the arm. His cheeks, Ana notices, are tinted red.

"What did she say?" She questions curiously.

"It's not important. She's just being silly."

Ana narrows her eyes, but lets it go in favor of tickling the little boy in her lap

***

After spending a few hours in the village, Bucky brings Ana to his apartment just on the outskirts of the city. It's an open yet cozy concept, despite modern touches and all types of advanced tech she has never seen before; sleek appliances and even an entertainment center. Bucky lights up while talking about it, a brilliant smile on his face, telling her how cool and amazing the tech is and Stark hasn't even begun to scratch the surface of what this country has and can do.

It's here that Ana finally realizes what that panging in her heart is. It feels like she's being shot all over again, steel bullets twisting her insides around. A bitter taste fills her mouth and she swallows it with the painful flutter of her heart as well. 

Bucky has found his place here; recovering, becoming healthy, physically, mentally, emotionally. His excitement and awe of every little piece of aspect hasn't dimmed once, despite living here for months.

"You're happy here." Ana states quietly, interrupting him. "You love it here."

Bucky's smile falls from his mouth, a frown setting in as he takes her hands. "I'm happy you're here with me. I'm happy with you."

He leans down to press his lips to her forehead, then trails his mouth down to her temple, her cheek, to her nose. He traces his fingers up from her own, to her arms, until he is cupping her jaw. Ana gazes up at him, her heart pounding against her chest, her cheeks heating up under his touch. He is looking at her with so much love, so much adoration, that any seed of doubt she was beginning to have fades away.

When Bucky presses his lips against hers, it's tantalizing, nearly burning her bones and melting against his solid body. Ana snakes her arms around his waist, pressing him closer, because at one point she couldn't handle three days away from him, and three hundred and twenty-three days was horrible. She grips his shirt, trying to hold off the sudden emotion swirling in her chest. She must gasp against his lips, for Bucky starts to walk her backwards, his tongue prying her lips open.

Something wet escapes her eyes, and Bucky swipes his thumbs over them. She doesn't know how they got from the kitchen to his room, onto the bed, but she doesn't complain. Ana brings her hands up to tangle her fingers into his long hair, when Bucky takes them both, interlocking their fingers and pressing them on either side of her head. He pulls back to stare into her eyes, and Bucky's own are wet.

Ana gives him a rueful smile. "I'm sorry, Bucky. I love you, so much, and I'm incredibly happy to see you, you have no idea. Or you probably do. I just..." She trails off, lip quivering.

"It's alright, Ana." Bucky soothes softly. "I get it. I love you, I missed you." He kisses the tip of her nose, then pulls back. "I was in cryofreeze on and off for decades, and from what I remember, I didn't dream too often. This time was different. I dreamt of you, Annie. Your face, your laugh, your touch. Just being with you, and when I woke up, there was a moment where I thought you there with me. When I realized you weren't-"

He breaks off. Ana untangles her left hand, reaching up to wipe a tear on his cheek away. "It was horrible without, and I know that isn't fair for me to say-"

He kisses her to cease her words, and it's a very Bucky like thing to do. It makes her stomach flip.

"I nearly begged them to put me back to sleep after they fixed everything. Because being awake, knowing how far you were from me..." He shakes his head, his eye glazing over for a moment. He blinks, then smiles down at her. "I want to show you how much I missed you. I want to show you how fucking happy I am right now."

*

Bucky sits back on his heels, and it should be comical, him sitting there naked with how turned on he is, but it’s not. His hungry gaze pins Ana to the spot on the bed, her heart beating wildly as he continues to stare at her, as if he’s seeing her for the first time. Bucky doesn’t need to show her how much he’s missed her or loves her; Ana can feel the emotional energy radiating off his skin. However, he’s still too far from her.

Ana lifts her right leg, hooking her heel over his shoulder, the vibranium base feels smooth and sleek. She tries pulling him in, however, Bucky wraps his fingers around her ankle, moving her foot so he can kiss the Veni Vidi Vici tattoo on the outside of her foot. He then kisses her ankle, trailing his lips up to her calf. He places feather light kisses over her injured knee, the marks from disk faint against her olive skin; the brace had been carefully place to the side.

He continues kissing up her inner thigh, her stomach swooping as Bucky moves closer to her center. He ignores her there, opting to lean over and kiss the left side of her hip, where the scars from years ago begin. He drags his lips across her navel, his beard tickling her skin and kisses the newest scar left behind by a bullet. Bucky moves up to kiss the tattoo on her ribs, her skin erupting in goosebumps as his breath fans over the words.

He skips over her breasts, slightly heaving with her labored breaths. She has to bite her lip to keep from whimpering as he tenderly kisses the second bullet scar on her shoulder. Bucky grazes his teeth over her collarbone, tapping his thumb twice, before trailing his lips up her neck and behind her ear, kissing the lotus flower tattoo.

“Bucky,” Ana gives in with a whine, her mouth dropping open as his hard chest grazes over her nipples. “Please."

“Shhh, baby.” He murmurs over her ear, sending shivers down her spine. “I’ve got you.”

His hands find hers, lacing their fingers together as he finally kisses her lips. He keeps his mouth soft, delicate, the love he feels for her seeping into her bones. She loves him just as much, but it’s been ten months, and that’s ten fucking months too long. Ana wraps her legs around his waist, tugging him close, until his hard cock is pressed between her legs, sliding against her clit.

They both groan into each other’s mouths at the contact. Bucky brakes their hold from their hands, lining himself up, pressing into Ana. He goes slow, gentle despite how wet she is,. It’s been ten months without this, and the rush to feel each other skipped any foreplay. She breaks away from their kiss, throwing her head back and gasping quietly as he fills her, feeling every inch of him. He slips his left arm under her waist, holding her close and locking her there, as he takes her right hand away from her own, wrapping his arm around her shoulders.

A soft nip to her neck makes Ana move her head back, meeting Bucky’s blue-eyed gaze. His eyes are blown wide with lust, nearly hidden with the love that is shinning in them. With shaky fingers, Ana brushes his hair back, bringing him down until their foreheads touch. He smiles down at her before capturing her lips once again.

On the first thrust, Bucky keeps it tantalizingly slow and deep, already hitting that sensitive spot insider her. Ana wraps her arms around his strong back, digging her fingers into his shoulders from a mixture of pleasure and dull fleeting pain from his size. Bucky pauses, allowing them to both catch their breaths and adjust, chuckling into each other’s mouths. Ana moans into a kiss after Bucky starts again, slowly continues to roll his hips, keeping each thrust deep and perfect. 

Everything feels like it’s on fire, the air nearly sizzling around them. Warmth seeps into her skin from Bucky, igniting every one of her veins and makes her heart pound against her chest. She vaguely wonders if he can feel just how hard it’s beating for him. Ana feels their energies wrap around each other, comforting, warm; home.

Bucky presses her hips down harder, groaning as her walls flutter around his cock for a moment. At this point, he’s barely pulling back, just keeps grinding deep inside her, her clit brushing against his pubic bone. Their kiss is nothing more than open mouth panting, gasps and whimpers being swallowed down once in a while.

It’s all so overwhelming, especially when Bucky begins to whisper sweet words into her lips, into her neck when he has to duck his head down for a moment. Ana’s nails bite into the skin of his back, holding him closer than ever, their bodies fitting together as if the past ten months never happened. It feels like their first time together, though much more emotional, the distance making everything more passionate.

“Bucky,” Ana whimpers, her eyes fluttering. “Babe, please.”

Bucky kisses her fluttering pulse in her neck before reconnecting their foreheads. “I’ve got you, my love.” He murmurs, keeping his gaze locked on hers.

He pulls back further this time, snapping his hips forward, slow and hard and it’s perfect. With each small thrust, the tip of his cock brushes against that spot, making Ana’s toes curl. Bucky continues the leisurely pace, just opting for longer, harder thrusts. It causes waves of pleasure to roll through her stomach, her walls clenching around him tighter and tighter.

He thrusts once, twice, three more times, before the fire and waves crash together, sending Ana over the edge as she comes hard around his cock. She holds onto Bucky, moaning and mewling into his mouth as he kisses her again, her hand slipping from her shoulder into his damp hair. He gasps into her mouth as her walls constrict around him. He snaps his hips two more times before Bucky follows right after her.

*

They’re panting side by side, slowly coming down from their passionate love making, skin sweaty and cooling from the air around them. Ana’s heart hasn’t stopped pounding since she turned around and saw Bucky standing the lab. She feels sedated now, a bone deep satisfaction she has come to miss. She could lay in this spot forever, except that she’s still too far from Bucky, so she makes herself move.

She hooks her right leg over his thigh, rolling over to press up against his side. She wiggles around, draping her arm over his lower abs, trying to pull herself up his chest. He wraps his arm around her hips.

"What are you doing?" Bucky chuckles, breathy little sounds that make her heart flutter.

"Trying to get as close to you as possible. Keep you next to me." She says, still wiggling.

"Darling, I'm right here. It's not like I'm just going to disappear into thin air." However, he helps shift her around until she’s comfortable.  

Ana shushes him. "You never know, and I need to keep you close to me. Forever."

Bucky kisses her eyebrow. "This is real, right? I'm not dreaming again?"

She taps her thumb against his collarbone twice. "I'm real, Bucky.” She moves her hand down to the middle of his chest. “This is real."

He brushes her hair away from her temple, shifting until he’s looking her in the eyes. "Annie. Stay with me?"

Ana feels her entire body light up like the stars, and she can’t be sure if it’s just a metaphor, or if her energy is doing something to make her feel like that. Either way, she smiles softly at the man she loves with all her heart.

“Of course.”

Bucky smiles brightly at her, crinkles and all.

“My Winter Snowflake.”

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

A/N: Umfazi means wife in Xhosa, which is apparently one of the languages spoken in Wakanda. What Shuri explains is from the upcoming comic, Infinity War Prelude.

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**To anyone who wants to continue Bucky and Ana’s story feel free to read the Sequel: Delicate Stages of Life  Set Ten months after Delicate Stages. Looking into the life of Bucky and Ana. Life in Wakanda is filled with love, laughs, some tears, all emotions, lazy days, goats, hot springs, a soul connection, and something dark that looms over Bucky’s and Ana’s domestic bliss…