#Why do Cassandra's songs snap so hard

[magiccath]

Between A Goose And A Hard Place

Pairing: 11th Doctor x River Song

Summary: In which the Doctor is faced with the soulmate goose of enforcement

A/N: I know this isn't what I usually write, but I wanted to make a silly little gift for @1-genie-in-a-bottle . Let me know if you like this kind of unhinged crack fic and/or want to see more Doctor x River stuff!

The Doctor generally wasn’t a fan of kissing. It’s not that he didn’t like it. No, that wasn’t the issue. At least, he didn’t think it was. More so, the issue lay in what happened when he kissed someone. Frankly, if he ever tried to explain it to someone else he was absolutely certain they would laugh. He had trouble believing it himself. 

First, it was Jack. The Doctor didn’t even really know how to react at first. Jack had simply grabbed his face and planted one on him. It was quick, most certainly not a lingering kiss. Before he could decide what to do with the kiss, Jack had pulled away with a yelp. When the Doctor tentatively opened his eyes, wondering what on Earth could have caused Jack to make a sound like that, he was speechless. A sleek, white goose was biting Jack’s arse. Literally. Jack had simply removed the goose from his bottom half, setting it down on the floor as if it were nothing more than a dirty sock. That was that, the two men didn’t discuss it any further. 

Shortly after, it was Rose. This time the Doctor had more control over this kiss. He’d done it to save her, it wasn’t much more than that. She had taken the entirety of the time vortex into her mind, and that would most certainly kill a human. He kissed her as a means of transferring it to his mind. He was a little too preoccupied with saving his companion to really stop and enjoy or suffer through the kiss. What he didn’t expect was the exact same goose, having magically appeared again, started honking at him with a newfound ferocity. 

“Will you please shut up!” He snapped, still holding onto Rose. By now she had practically collapsed into his arms, the energy drained from her body. He could have sworn that the goose glared at him. 

“Go on, shoo,” he encouraged, glaring right back. The goose sauntered away, the soft padding of its flippers taunting him. Briefly, he wondered where the goose came from. It was a little strange that the bird had suddenly appeared in the middle of a spaceship, but stranger things had happened to the Doctor. 

He’d made a mental note to look up what it meant when geese showed up and berated you for kissing people, but he got preoccupied. He had a new body to adapt to, with all new organs and facial features. How could he be expected to remember such trivial things as strange geese? 

Rose was the first to kiss his new face. Well, technically it was Lady Cassandra inhabiting Rose’s body. He should have known, Rose wasn’t bold enough to grasp him by his hair and forcibly kiss him. This one was longer and more passionate than the others. Still, the Doctor didn’t know how to react. He ended up just standing there like putty in her hands as he pressed her - Rose’s - lips against his, her hands gripping his hair roughly. Honestly, he sort of blacked out for the whole thing. By the time she had pulled away from him, the goose was there. It practically glared at Rose, its beak firmly attached to her shoe. He wasn’t sure if geese could growl, but this one certainly was. 

By the time they had returned to the TARDIS, he practically rushed to the library, frantically searching for some kind of explanation. He didn’t know why this was happening to him! Three times in a row was more than a coincidence, the events had to be linked. 

He pondered over his books for a few hours, looking for everything he had on geese. Exasperated, he used the Sonic Screwdriver to scour the internet. He came across an American article titled “The Soulmate Goose: Urban Legend or Rising Phenomenon?” He frowned, clicking on it, if only out of curiosity. 

A Soulmate Goose, otherwise known as the “Soulmate Goose of Enforcement'' is exactly what it sounds like. A goose who acts as a spiritual guide in your search for a soulmate, just in a chaotic manner. Regardless if you believe in soulmates or not, the Soulmate Goose of Enforcement serves as an entertaining tale at the very least, and a guiding beacon in the dating world at best. 

The Doctor wasn’t entirely sure if it was a joke. Americans were good at that, making up things so entirely silly that they almost seemed real. He didn’t want to believe it, the idea was so blatantly odd. However, the current evidence at hand seemed to support the idea. What other possible explanation could there be for a goose following him around and getting incessantly violent whenever he kissed someone?

For the next few weeks, he simply forgot about the goose. He had more pertinent things to do. That was, until none other than Madame De Pompadour kissed him. She grasped him and leaned forward, pressing her lips against his. He melted into her touch, his hands ghosting around her waist as she grasped tightly onto his suit. He wasn’t sure if he kissed her back, but he was fairly certain he had. Before he could really start to enjoy the kiss, a goose crawled out from under Madame De Pompadour’s skirts. She quickly backed away from him, looking down at the bird with wide, confused eyes. The goose simply squawked at her before turning its attention towards the Doctor, looking up at him with its beady little black eyes in clear disapproval. The Doctor stared back, his mind trying to catch up. Bashfully, he nodded his understanding.

After that, he did a good job of steering away from kissing. He became almost defensive about it, constantly worried that someone might grab him for a kiss. The last thing he wanted was for the goose to show up again. 

He figured he was safe around Jackie, she was Rose’s mum after all. How wrong he was. She quickly grabbed him, spinning him around towards her so she could press her lips against his. He instantly recoiled, but she didn’t seem to notice. She rotated between hugging him and kissing him. When she was done he wiped his mouth with the back of his hand, clearly disgusted. Sure enough, the goose poked its head into the room, glaring at the Doctor. 

“I didn’t like it much either,” he whispered angrily at the bird. Honestly, what was it with all of these women kissing him?

Then he kissed Martha - which he only did to save her life. He told her as such, looked her in the eyes, and begged her to understand that it was for her own good. For the good of everyone in the hospital. It’s not like it meant anything. He grasped her face in his hands and kissed her quickly. Honestly, he didn’t even really think about it, not really. Afterward, he ran away quickly, having things he needed to do. The Doctor didn’t get very far before he ran into a goose. It was just sitting in the hallway, looking at him disappointingly. In all of his rush to come up with a solution for their predicament, he had completely forgotten about the goose. 

“I did it to save everyone in this hospital!” he argued. It felt ridiculous to argue with a bird. 

Either the goose didn’t understand him, or it didn’t care. It simply got up off the floor and walked over to the Doctor menacingly. Great, the Doctor thought, now I’ve got to run away from the Judoon AND a bird. Luckily for him, he was good at the running thing. 

When he was John Smith he didn’t figure that he’d be kissing anyone. He left it out of the list of instructions he had made for Martha. In the moment, avoiding pears seemed more important than avoiding the damn goose. 

Unfortunately for him, his human counterpart had to go and fancy someone. He leaned in to kiss her, moving slowly in case she wanted to back away. When she didn’t, he leaned down and pressed his mouth against hers. 

The door barged open and he pulled away to yell at Martha, he had told her to knock before inviting herself in. However, he was faced with the goose. He frowned at the bird, confused about how it got into the room, let alone open the door. Geese don’t have hands, let alone opposable thumbs, so how did it get in?

He didn’t have much time to ponder because the goose instantly threw itself at Joan, biting at her legs through her skirt. He frowned angrily at the strange creature, forcibly pulling it off of his love interest. The goose turned its efforts to biting him, sinking its surprisingly sharp beak into the tender flesh of his hand. He dropped the bird in shock, grasping the spot where it had bit him. 

“What-?” he gasped, still holding his wound. Martha rushed into the room, looking between him, Joan, and the bird in clear confusion. The Doctor didn’t even try to explain, he wasn’t even sure how to. 

Then, it was Astrid. She really was a sweet girl, he felt awful that he didn’t have time to warn her. This was getting out of hand - what was it with women grabbing him and kissing him against his will? He wasn’t a fan of it, and the goose most certainly wasn’t either. The kiss was brief, not leaving him much time to react. By the time she pulled away, the lapels of his suit still grasped in her hands, the goose had appeared. It was squawking again, flapping its wings angrily. 

“Where did that come from?” Astrid frowned, still not letting go of the Doctor. He sighed heavily and gently eased her away from him. With a sad frown, she backed down, exiting his personal space. The goose continued to yell at her, even as she left the Doctor with a shy wave goodbye. 

“You have got to stop doing that!” he scolded the bird. He was met with a sharp cry in response. He didn’t need to speak goose to understand that the creature was mad at him. 

“It’s not like I’m asking these women to kiss me!” he protested, begging the goose for a little bit of leeway. The bird tilted its head at him, clearly listening to him. Without another word - or squawk - it padded off down the hallway, leaving the Doctor alone. 

When Donna kissed him he absolutely was not expecting OR wanting it. He asked her for a shock, assuming that she would gladly take the opportunity to slap him or something. He’d done plenty of things to piss her off, surely she was itching to sock him. Instead, she grabbed him by the face and kissed him passionately. He wasn’t sure that she liked it much more than he did. Frankly, she should have just gone the slapping route, it would have been better for both of them. When she finally released him he stumbled backward into the kitchen island, letting out a sharp breath as the poison exited his body in smoky tendrils. 

He felt a sharp bite on one of his fingers and looked down at the counter to find the goose, his pointer finger lodged between its beak. The Doctor glared at the bird and wiggled his finger free from its grasp. 

“Bad bird!” he tried scolding, holding his hand against his chest defensively. “I’m well aware that she’s not my soulmate! There’s no need to get violent.” 

He managed to escape the kissing for a while after that. He got a little too comfortable, he almost forgot all about the kissing and the goose. His life was wonderful. 

And then Christina kissed him. She didn’t even give him any warning. Like the various women before her, she had simply grabbed him and dragged his lips toward hers. The bus erupted in applause as she kissed him, vocalizing their approval. She pulled away, smirking at him. She quickly recoiled though when she felt a sharp sting in her calf. She looked down at her leg, only to find a vicious goose firmly attached to her calf. The Doctor followed her gaze and sighed, seemingly dejected. 

“I’m not interested in this one either,” he groaned at the goose. Begrudgingly, it released Christina from its grasp. She quickly stumbled back, rubbing her leg in the spot where it had been biting her. 

That was the last time he was kissed with that face. He hoped with his new regeneration that he might escape the kissing for a while. Maybe it was the tight suits. Surely that was the problem. Yes, it had to be the suits. And the hair. He made sure to get rid of both. 

Even with this new face, this new attitude, even with the new suit, he couldn’t avoid the kissing. He figured he was safe with Amy, she was getting married! She couldn’t be interested in him. Oh, how wrong he had been. 

She leaned close to him, closer than he was generally comfortable with. She continued to lean further into him, desperately trying to close the gap between them. Once he realized what was happening, he quickly shot up out of his seat, stumbling away from her. 

“You’re getting married!” he argued as she continued to try and kiss him. “I’m 906! This can never work!” 

She pouted, crowding him up against the TARDIS. “I wasn’t suggesting anything quite so… long-term,” she said seductively, grabbing him by the back of the neck and kissing him urgently. Her hands wandered across his chest, sliding his suspenders off his shoulders. He stiffened, his hands planted firmly on her shoulders as he pushed her off of him. He wiggled out of her grasp, trying to move away from her again. She tried to move for him again and he darted away from her. Where was the goose when you needed it?!

As if sending his thoughts, a goose appeared in the middle of Amy’s room. She stared at it in blatant confusion before backing hesitantly away. The goose didn’t seem deterred in the slightest and simply advanced in her direction, growling softly. 

“Do they do that? Are they meant to do that?” 

“No, not generally,” the Doctor sighed in exasperation, picking the goose up and practically throwing it away from her. It moved for Amy again and he placed his leg in front of it, blocking its path. 

“Amy, no kissing,” he scolded, pointing at her. He then turned his attention to the goose, “No biting. No attacking. No disturbing of any kind.”

The goose huffed, at least, that’s what the Doctor assumed it was trying to do. He glared down at it, almost threatening it to try again. Finally, the goose relented. 

Amy didn’t try to kiss him again, which he was thankful for. In fact, no one tried to kiss him again. That was, until River. 

He liked River, he really did. She was smart, snarky, and not afraid to flirt with him. As he returned her to her cell they talked and laughed happily. 

He said something or made some kind of comment. He wasn’t even trying to be funny or clever, it just came out that way. 

“Shut up,” River smirked, grabbing his neck softly and pulling him into her. He could have pulled away if he really wanted to. River wasn’t like the other women, she wasn’t forcibly aggressive about it. Dominant and self-assured, yes. But not aggressive, never aggressive. He let her do it, mostly because he wanted her to. 

She pressed her lips against his and he instantly melted into the kiss. This time was different, this time he wanted it, he liked it. Awkwardly, his hand hovered over her shoulder, not quite touching her. She kept one hand on the back of his neck, the other pulling him in by his waist. Oh, he liked that. His hand pressed down on her shoulder. Not like he had with Amy, he wasn’t pushing her away. Rather, he was holding her, urging her to go on. 

Then, panic started to seep in. The goose was going to show up at any point. It was going to start biting River and that was absolutely the last thing that he wanted to happen. At the same time, he really didn’t want this kiss to end. His arms flailed about helplessly and awkwardly. If River noticed she didn’t do anything to indicate as such. He continued his uncomfortable flapping, his mind torn between pulling away and pushing closer. 

The kiss ended and he looked down at her with wide, panicked eyes. She wasn’t crying out in pain and there wasn’t an ear-splitting honking filling the air. She looked at him almost sadly, as if realizing his mind wasn’t entirely on her. 

He didn’t know it, but she was realizing that this was the last time she was ever going to kiss him. A first for him, a last for her. That was the way it worked. 

The Doctor looked around her cell anxiously, searching for the goose. Where was it? Was it going to bite him now? His eyes finally landed on the familiar goose, sitting patiently in the corner.

“Doctor?” River whispered, her eyes searching his face. 

He didn’t respond, his wide eyes glued on the goose. Only, it wasn’t moving. It wasn’t attacking. He looked back at River, his eyes darting between hers. Could it be? 

“Can you do that again?” he whispered. She smirked, finding his request nothing if not adorable. She was more than happy to oblige, leaning forward to press her lips against his again. 

It was softer this time, more gentle. The Doctor actively kissed her back this time, his hands coming to rest on the dip of her waist. She smiled at that, pressing her chest against his. 

He pulled away from the kiss, his hands still holding her waist. He smiled down at her, feeling a warmth in his hearts that he hadn’t for centuries. She smiled back up at him, her hand resting gently between his rapidly beating hearts. 

Hesitantly he looked back over to the corner where the goose had been only moments before, finding the room empty. He let out a gentle breath, relieved that the aviary torture was finally over. Maybe now he could relax. Maybe, just maybe, there would be more of this enjoyable kissing in the future. For once, the Doctor could confidently say that he liked kissing. Yes, yes he most certainly did. 

He just hoped that the damned goose didn’t show up again. 

[mastermindmp3]

Submitted for evidence for today's minutes: a dialogue between department member Cassandra (queendomkey) and Swift-by-Osmosis and honorary member Jean, who lacks a tumblr. Because they have a real life, or something.

Jean began the dialogue by bringing to motion a quote from My Boy Only Breaks His Favorite Toys:

Jean: You can take this as a metaphor for him giving her attention or, for treating her roughly or, for taking her virginity... There's just such a tone there that feels like a loss of innocence, that she's still kind of clinging to the illusion of through the extended metaphor of being a toy.

J: It feels like grieving for the inner child stolen by a man who chose to play with a young girl's heart and throw it away.

Cassandra: Oh! I like that!

J: My Boy Only Breaks His Favorite Toys rips my heart out and stomps on it, and this one line [is why] "cause he took me out of my box" That's it. That's it. The delivery sounds like she's [going to] cry. Like the speaker is so unwilling to let go of this man because he was the first one that made her feel wanted... Even if he uses her and breaks her, he's still her first and that means more to her than it does to him.

C: It’s also the only song on the album (outside of the title track) to use the word tortured.

C: I feel like that's tied to the ways that girls are made to grow up faster, to take the stones thrown by boys who 'love them.' Her heart has been tortured before the song happened ( he stole her tortured heart, after all, he wasn't a part of this torture. ) and so she's come to, in a way, accept this kind of treatment. Clings to it like a toy, like a childhood object.

J: Exactly. Especially through the metaphor that she is the toy. This man-- older than her by implication-- was still immature enough to treat her as an object, and she accepted that role. Because that's what boys do: they pull your pigtails because they love you, and girls don't make a scene, so they might as well be passive objects."

C: Yes.

C: Changing topics a little, "took me out of my box" can be seen as syndeoche for like... making her experience something new, pushing her out of her comfort zone. I think a lot of the songs in TTPD are songs that are specifically about feelings in the moment, rarely with hindsight.

(At this point, Jean paused the discussion to research 'syndeoche,' referring to Cassandra as a "Well read motherfucker." xoxo.)

Jean pointed out that this can be read as a dramatic irony, as the audience knows the speaker's infatuation won't last, that they are in denial of what's to come.

J: [The speaker is] a girl we've all known or been before. Someone you'd drive away if you'd tell her you think he's bad for her, but you just want to hug her.

The conclusion:

Jean sees the song as "An exercise in empathy for a person people often snap to judge in real life." That, those in the Speaker's life may need to be "someone she can talk to without being judged while she works through those feelings in her own time. Someone safe that won't lecture her and drive her back to the unsafe one."

Cassandra believes that My Boy Only Breaks His Favorite Toys is "A desperate song underneath it's toy-like trappings." After all, the Speaker has rationalized that her Boy only runs because he "loves her," that he only breaks his favorite toys. Leaving half moon imprints on her Boy's thigh, as the Speaker clings to a love that no longer exists. Though it's hard, being able to empathize with her is something the song pushes us to do.

[she-ra-cat-ra]

There's a line between the winners and the losers There's a line between the chosen and the rest And I've done the best I could But I've always known just where we stood Me here with the luckless You there with the blessed

Like tell me that isn’t Catra????? 

Was anyone going to tell me that Crossing The Line from Rapunzel’s Tangled Adventure is the most perfect catradora song in the entire world or was I just supposed to find out while watching clips?????

[sweater-daddiesdumbdork]

Welcome To The Pack: Sing My Song

Part Two

Summary- 7.5k Steve Rogers x You. Having you back makes the Alpha very happy, and has a hard time keeping his hands to himself. Which you don’t have any issues with that. Shuri continues her work with you, and making progress everyday, enough so Steve hopes to take you on a run through Wakanda. Bucky and his team are drawing in on Brock, but will they be able to take out the ex Alpha and his bitch for good? Warnings- Smut and Violence. Divider made by @firefly-graphics​

A/N- Im breaking this into 2 parts. Its long and I feel like its just a lot to handle all to once. So next chapter will be posted soon. As always, Thank you for sticking with me and The Pack, I hope you all enjoy. As always feedback and your thoughts are encouraged, I’m always open to hearing what you all think and would like to see for them in the future. Happy Reading 🐺❤️

Part One / Chapter 8 / Masterlist

Brock did nothing to fight back or defend himself. His eyes glittered malicious at Bucky, baring his teeth at Bucky. 

“Cassandra really had NO idea what you were. You were just such a good fuck and easy listener Barnes. You should have heard her screams when we showed her what you were, what we were.” Brock taunted, making Bucky recoil slightly hearing him.

Brock's taunts gave Alanna enough time to shift out of Bucky’s sight, for her to slink around the room and low to the ground and start to approach the White Wolf from behind. In Bucky’s mind the White Wolf paced, wanting to rip out Brock’s throat, lap at the hot spurts of blood that would spray. But then he noticed the silence, his ears flicking around but he heard nothing. 

<Where's the bitch?> the White Wolf snarled out.

 Bucky started to turn enough to see a rush of tawny fur leaping at him, and he spun to kick out, catching the Wolf in the ribs and sending her flying back. But it was enough for Brock to knock the blade from Bucky’s hand, and push him back to get out of the corner. He was hitting Bucky in enough different places that it was leaving Bucky too disoriented and a collar got shoved around his neck from behind. Bucky heaved his shoulders to dislodge whoever had come up from behind, and he sent Wanda sprawling against the floor. 

Brock was quick to back off once that collar went on him, barking out at Wanda who was just getting up to go for Bucky once more. “GIve it a rest, witch. We got him now.” Wanda subdued herself once more, that vacant look melding into something new, something controlled. 

“Wanda, you can fight this.” Bucky's hands went up to the collar tight around his neck, growling in anger and frustration, but doing his best to keep it together. Brock gave an amused laugh as Wanda continued to ignore Bucky. 

Alanna whined as she moved to a stand and shook herself out, not too injured from being kicked and started to shift back and get dressed once more. From the stairs, Pietro sent Clint tumbling down to land in a pile at the landing, unconscious now from whatever the twins had done to him upstairs. Bucky's fingers curled around the collar, trying to figure out how to get this particular one off. It wasn't metal like the one Pierce had used on him, no secret button to press. This was supple leather, molding around his neck like it was a part of him, thin, almost unnoticeable. He tried wrenching the leather against his neck to make it snap , but the leather never gave, and neither did the clasp holding it in place. 

“Don't even bother Barnes. That isn't like Pierce's contraptions. These are the real deal, you are ours now Bucky. You and your friends too. Teper' tvoya moya sobaka.” Your our dog now

“What the-” the man clammed up, Bucky and the White Wolf being pulled out of control of his body, and his eyes snapped from their usual friendly blues into cold steel. 

“Ahh, that's better.” Rumlow circled Bucky, leaning in close. “You will no longer answer to Steve Rogers, although I’m not sure why you ever did. You had the power to take the Pack from him. You now listen to me, Soldat.” Bucky stiffened more, and he too fell into the spell that the rest had. 

After Natasha left with Stark's Jet, Steve was able to borrow a jeep and took you out for the rest of the morning into one of the nearby markets. Once he parked the jeep, the two of you started down an open market lane. You and Steve were sure to pause and admire the carts of bright beautiful items Wakandians made for sale. Steve watched how you would pick up little trinkets made of the Beli wood and would sit the little trinkets to balance on your palm. Steve noticed you favored the animal shapes, little tree frog mid croak, then an elephant with its trunk curled over its head, one of a sitting  hyena pair, and a parrot that had spread wings like in flight. But the one you kept picking up was a little panther one that matched the cliff face carving that could be seen from the balcony of the room you shared. Curling your finger along its back before you set it down, you hummed happily as you wandered to the next merchants stall. Steve though stalled, watching you pick up a couple of scarfs, their colors vivid as you twisted to hold them up to the sunlight, the color seeming to meld on your face, lighting your eyes a whole new color. 

When you had stepped away, Steve picked up the small carved Panther, and subtly paid for it. Once it was handed back to him, he slipped it in his slacks out of sight when you came back to him, holding up a few scarfs. “I think I'm going to get these for Wanda, Sara and Natasha.” 

“They would like them, but what about one for you?” He asked, his hand moving to rest in the small of your back while you both went back into the stall to look.

You glanced at the colors, and then there was one that reminded you of your Alphas eyes that happened to catch your sight. It was a streak of blue and yellow and you picked it up to add to the arrangement you made. Handing it to the merchants owner, you gave a shy thank you. Steve wrapped an arm around you as the two of you continued down, and Steve happened to pause at another booth, overlooking some blades that had a unique sheen to them. As soon as Steve touched one, he was intrigued. The weight felt like it was made just for him, and he let his thumb trail barely along the edge of them. He was surprised with the immediate red beads of blood following along the barely there cut. “What are these made of?” 

“Vibranium sir. Each blade will fit to its owner's needs. The weight will change, absorb energy, be lethal to any target. These blades will never grow dull with use. I wouldn't normally sell these to any visitors, but guests of the Kings, feel free to choose from what I have to offer.” His hand swept over the collection, and you were fascinated watching Steve go through them. He obviously had a few people in mind as he set more aside to purchase, right along with several lethal looking arrowheads. 

The rest of the morning the two of you shared bites of food from samples offered, you would laugh at the occasional face Steve would make when he didn't care for the taste of something. Dropping his head to nip at your lips and growl against them that he prefers the taste of you instead. You glanced up at him and leaned up to your tiptoes, biting gentle on his jawline, before flowing to his ear. 

“I plan on finding out soon if you taste as good as you look.” 

Cerulean eyes widened as you sauntered away to where music was playing, your hips swaying back and forth, and joining in with others enjoying the music. 

<She got you that time.> The Alpha had a smirk to his tone, huffing with amusement at Steve's still shocked look. 

She gets me all the time, this time isn't anything new. 

When he finally reached where you were wandering while listening to the music, and engaged in several conversations with the Wakanda merchants. Steves wrapped his arms around you and pressed his lips to your neck first. You arched your neck just a bit for him,  and he let his mouth linger against your temple, whispering just to you. “Enjoying yourself?” he asked as you watched some people weaving baskets nearby. The Wolf in him sighed in content when you nodded, and slid a hand under his shirt, pressing your hand against his back for the contact. “Yes, Alpha.” 

“We should probably get back, you still have a session with Shuri.” He didn't want to, but a glance at the time on the phone showed it was near noon and he wanted to eat lunch in the room before you two headed down for what he was hoping would be the final session for you with the Panther. You gave a soft nod, and he weaved his hand with yours, leading you back to the car. 

Driving back, it was a quick trip up to the room. The kitchen had already brought up a spread of crackers, fruit, cheese and some meats. In the heat the two of you shed your clothes, opting for something lighter and more airy before moving the tray out to the balcony, still in the shade, but able to enjoy the expansive view before you two. Pouring glasses of water, that Steve was sure to hand one to you while you leaned against the railing, looking over the view. 

“One day I would love to come back, if T’Challa would have us. Really explore.” There was so much they haven't seen, not with how tired you have been after your sessions with Shuri. 

“I'm sure we can Little One.” Steve rumbled, his sensitive to the light eyes squinting against the bright light. You nuzzled under his chin, and pulled him back into the shade to relieve him. Steve broke into a grin as he sat down, and wrapped an arm around your hip, pulling you into his lap. 

“With proper sunglasses next time, I promise.” He nipped at your shoulder affectionately, and you nodded, reaching forward for a piece of fruit, popping it between your teeth and chewing with a snort. 

“And all sorts of sunscreen. You burned a bit from that walk in the market this morning. There might be some aloe vera in the bathroom I can put on that for you.” Your fingers slide very gently along the back of his neck, where it has turned slightly red. Steve lifted his hand to feel the back of his neck, and sure enough there was a touch of heat.  

“Be gone in a couple days.” He assured you as he nipped against your jawline, rubbing a hand along your hip to steady you as you leaned for another piece of fruit from the bowl. Reaching for a piece of pineapple, you straightened and pressed it against his lips, so he would take it. 

“You know what they say about the pineapple, don't you?” You teased as you nibbled on a piece of cold cheese, smirking slightly. 

Steve's eyes shifted to yours, and you could see how your teasing was making them shine a bit more, as he tried to keep his voice as innocent as possible. 

Which really wasnt alot. 

“Oh something about tasting better?” He growled as his lips pressed to yours, pulling slightly on your lips before pulling away. You grinned when he did and nodded. 

“Mmhm, not sure what exactly? Maybe I will just have to take my time exploring to find out.” 

“You do that Little One.” He growled, even the Wolf started snickering at how the two of you were teasing one another. 

You nibbled your way along his bottom lip, the short hairs of his beard tickling you. A press of your tongue on the seam of his mouth asked for entrance, and when Steve opened to you, you were able to lap at the roof of his mouth, his own movements mimicking yours in that moment. You started humming at the sweetness the taste of fresh fruit left, his own tongue pressed against yours more demanding, wanting more of you. 

Hands started to match one another, yours cupped his face, and his braced against your back to arch you in closer to him. Sliding down his neck and to his chest, you started to tug at his shirt to lift in, needing to feel the spanse of his chest under your palms. All that power is just sitting there in your control. It was a head rush for you to know that the Alpha would do anything to keep you happy, and happily the favor was returned. Even though giving the bite scared you, if Steve really asked for it, you would allow him to mark you wherever he wanted his mark. 

Your fingers are curling against hard pecs, and burying in the dusting of hair, Steve’s grasped the curve of your waist and lifted you enough to straddle his lap, wanting you as close to him as possible . There was a growl against your mouth and Steve pulled away to place deep sucking marks against your neck. Your hips started shifting like they had a life of their own, grinding yourself against him for that friction his hard erection gave while straining to bury into your heat.

Steve craved the skin to skin contact, and his hands released you enough to reach over his shoulders to grasp his shirt and roughly pull it off. Yours too was in the way, grasping at the hem of your shirt and pulled it over your head to drop it on the floor nearby. He marveled for a moment at the sight of you, and dropped his head to kiss the swells of the tops of your breasts in that similar way he was kissing on your neck earlier, your fingers clutched at him and a sigh escaped you at the coil he was building in your core. Fuck if he didnt have a hold on you, letting your body just lean into his hands, one pressing against the small of your back to hold you still while he removed your bra. Letting it fall to the ground, he nuzzled and kissed your breasts, bringing a nipple to his mouth, the hot lashing of his tongue, and pleased rumbled vibrating from his mouth through you to make you clench at the sensation. Your head fell back and lips parted to inhale deeply, sinking into the sensations of his hot lips and wet tongue teasing you while the brush of his beard brought its own tingling sensation. 

“You feel so good Alpha.” he heard you pant, and Steve bit down slightly before sucking you back into his mouth, his fingertips rolling over your other nipple before tugging it a bit, rolling and taunting till he could get his heated mouth over to draw you in, tease you till you were wriggling in his lap. He moaned again at the sweet taste of you. 

It was during all this his Wolf chose this moment to start calling your song, deep howls almost distracting him, you felt that bit of untamed wilderness in him when his body clenched, muscles tightening and rippling. 

Another roll of your hip ground you into his now aching, throbbing erection, and you pulled your hands away to work his pants open, reaching to take his cock out of the confines, and stroke him, palm him, run your fingertip over the head leaking precum. Steve growled and pressed his face into the softness of your breasts, before going back to kissing them, going back up your chest to find your mouth, growling against your panting mouth. “Get those shorts off.” 

There was no more thinking, or sense of you having to be anywhere in a certain amount of time as you scrambled off and started to tug the fabrics of your shorts and panties down, watching while Steve arched his hips to get more of his own pants down to give you room. It wasn't long till he was pulling you back to him, this time your knees found purchase in his chair and you reached between the two of you to press him against your aching entrance. Crying out as you started to bring yourself down over him. You knew that satisfied cry had to echo from your balcony, but you were beyond caring. 

A hunger for your Alpha over took you, and he was just as impatient as you because he lifted his hips to finish bringing you two together. 

“Fuck Y/N” his head dropped to bury back into your breasts, muffling the sounds of his groans as you flexed and clasped around him, whimpering yourself at how thick he felt at this angle, like it would split you to have him like this. But you were slick with need, and while he was still processing the intense feeling washing over him, being seated in you, and the damn Wolf howling over and over, you made the first move. Grasping his shoulders for leverage and arching up just enough to drag him through you, enough to sink back on him in a slow testing manner. “You're so damn tight.” Steve groaned against your skin. 

Riding Steve, you slid one arm around his neck, cradling against him. Your body knew what it wanted, and you let yourself go while he growled against you. He was back to kissing and nipping his marks into your skin while rocking his cock into your thrusts, meeting you with his own need to be inside of you, to feel you clenching him. “Just like that Little One, you are such a good girl to me.”  Your slick started to soak into his pants, the fabric friction burning against your thighs and cunt, but you wanted it and pressed a bit harder each time for that friction. 

Steve's hand flexed against the small of your back, dragging up to fist in your hair, wrapping it around his hand till he was able to pull your head back, swarmed with the desire to sink teeth into your neck and take you officially as his mate. You gasped when you felt the tug of hand dragging your head back, and he took over your movements.  His hand curled against your hip pulled you harder on his cock, scenting your neck and lapping over the pulse. You knew what he wanted, you could feel it with every angled thrust aiming to take you apart around him. 

He wanted to claim you as his, and you didn't want him to, not until your Little Wolf had returned. 

You whined out softly. “Not yet Alpha.” 

And that was enough, both Steve and the Wolf changed focus, turning soft nips into kisses, releasing your hair to dig fingers against your waist, and burying himself deeper, hitting that spot every time, and grinding your clit against him each time he filled you. It was enough to make your lower belly clench and your cunt flex and flutter around him. 

“Not until you're ready.” Steve promised as he claimed your mouth again, hissing against it. “Cum for me Little One, let me see you come apart.” 

Driving himself once more, snapping his hips up to bring you closer, a finger slipped between your bodies and pressing, rolling hard over your bundle of nerves to finish you. “Give it to me, your Alpha wants it.” he growled against your lips, sliding his tongue to fill yours, stroking and lapping at you till you started to squeeze him. Crying his name against the kiss, and eyes fluttering up to lose yourself in feeling anything but bliss. Steve gathered you close as his final thrusts sent him over the edge. He finished with the feeling of your cunt squeezing him tightly and milking him. It was just that much more incentive to brim you full with his cum. His balls tightened before his release and a burn in his belly snapped to crash you onto him, pumping himself deeper so you couldn’t forget that flood of warmth enveloping you. Whenever his knot would loosen and he could pull from you, there he would be dripping down your thighs, making him bury his head in against your shoulder with a groan, just thinking about it. Fuck how he loved that. Himself all over you, inside you. Everyone would be able to tell you were his. 

You felt Steve drift off in his own pleasure, his face buried in your shoulder and your nose traced his neck. You inhaled against his neck as his chest rose and fell against yours and you could feel his heart thumping wildly. Your fingers massaged against his upper back, and you leaned into Steve's chest humming softly in pleasure. 

“Thank you Steve.” brushing fingers through his hair, and you could feel him stir underneath you, lifting his head to press his lips against your temple, and leaning his forehead against yours with eyes still closed. 

“I promised you when you first found me that I wouldn't make you do anything you weren't ready for.” 

His hands stroked your back, and each scar his fingers slid over were no longer bringing memories of a time you fought to forget, but now they were now moments of touches and whispers in moments like these. Where both of you were coming back from the rush of being together. You arched into his touch and his hand flattened against the small of your back, pressing you into him harder, closing any space that might have been left between you two.  

The Wolf in Steve stirred, pushing once more to a stand and shaking out his fur after a few moments. His head cocked and ears perked as he was listening to something. Steve fully ignored him for now, still enjoying the post love making he just had with you.  

<She’s closer then before.> The Wolf's ears perked, picking up traces of your Little Wolf. The Wolf rumbled in anticipation of her arrival, and it passed through Steve and into you, making you press in closer against him. 

Call for her. 

The Alpha paced back and forth, listening for the Little Wolf till his head fell back and called your song once more. Steve hummed it himself while pressing his lips against your shoulder and in the hollow of your neck, lacing it in your skin and while you were relaxing from still coming down from your orgasm. 

You felt her, it was so subtle, a brush in your mind that you thought it would be nothing more then a glimpse once more. This time though it felt familiar as your own inner thoughts were, like before you were left all alone in your mind. First it was her soft sigh of content, like coming home after being away so long. Then the Little Wolf came from the very depths of your mind, each padding footfall bringing her closer to the front of your consciousness. 

Little Wolf, please tell me your back. 

She leaped into your mind with a graceful prance as she tilted her head back in the manner the Alpha had when Steve told him to call for her. She answered him with one of her own. 

<As if you could honestly could get rid of me.> She brushed up against your mind, feelings of warmth and affection radiating, and you straightened up suddenly in Steve’s hold. 

“Steve, she's back! She’s back, It worked!” You cried out, grasping his face and overwhelmed with emotion, you poured all what you were feeling into a kiss. Momentarily surprised, Steve was quick to tilt into it, inhaling your joy, relief and passion. When you pulled away, he grasped your own face, covering it in his own brush of his lips, a wide grin on his face. 

“I knew you could bring her back Little One, it was a matter of time.” He praised and you lifted your hands to cover his own, weaving fingers through his. 

“Not without Shuri, T’Challa, Natasha… You. I felt your Wolf, You.” You didn't know how to explain it, that connection you felt with him was what kept your Little Wolf searching for her way back. Steve’s brows lifted, searching your expression a moment, and let the corner of his mouth lift in a quirk of a smile. 

“Don't sell yourself short Little One.” He nudged his nose against yours gently and wiggled his brows. “Think we should go tell Shuri that you won't be needing her work on you anymore?” 

You bit your lip excitedly and nodded, in which he grasped your waist and was careful to help you pull off him and to a stand, moaning as he looked you up and down. “You also need to get dressed again. As well as drink some water.” 

You already were downing the glass on the table, giving him a snort as you set it down. The Little Wolf huffing in laughter at the Alphas bossiness. 

“You to Alpha, I wasn't the only one huffing and puffing earlier.” You poured him another glass and handed it to him before passing him to go get dressed, looking over your shoulder. “Are you going to let me keep these clothes on?” 

Steve drained the glass himself and worked on zipping his pants back up, following you inside, while leaning against the frame of the opening to the balcony. 

“Depends, The Big Bad Wolf is still hungry.” he smirked as you pulled a shirt over your head, wide eyed as you head poked through. 

“Steve Rogers, you really are an animal!” You huffed out happily. When Steve approached you, your hand smoothed against his chest and his arm came around you protectively. 

“I've never denied it, have I?” Biting your shoulder softly in play before he let you go, you both finished getting dressed and left the room to head down to Shuris lab. When they arrived, the woman had everything set up and Steve gave your shoulder a light squeeze of encouragement. 

“So I'm really hoping today Y/N that your wolf comes back with a bang.” Shuri said almost distracted, tapping on the tablet she was using. 

<Ha! I did come in after a bang!> The Little Wolf grinned with a swipe of her tongue around her muzzle. 

I think you planned it like that. 

<Maybe I did. I see now that I’m back you're not so shy around the Alpha. Straddling him while on a balcony in the middle of the day. Almost like… your back in heat.> She snickered. 

Shut up. You know I'm not. It was a lot quieter when you were MIA.

The Little Wolf huffed in laughter, settling down to let you focus. 

I’m actually so fucking happy your back. You confessed to her and the Little Wolf whined in agreement, happiness radiating through you. 

“Actually, she did. She came back just a little while ago. You did it Shuri. She's back.” 

Shuri gave an excited squeal, Steve momentarily tightening his arm around you in surprise before letting you go to meet the Princess. 

“I knew she would be back.” Raising her hand and you gave her a high five once you realized what she wanted. “Just a bit of some rewiring and bam. Good as new. You don't mind if I take a sneaky peek?” 

You shook your head no, and willingly got on the table, letting her pull up an image of the inside of your mind. Steve watched from nearby, admiring the way little sparks were doubled what they were before, an obvious sign that your Little Wolf was active. 

He did have a couple questions though. “Was it just the work you've been doing to bring her back.” Hoping for an answer that would prove to you that you called her back. 

“Some of it, but I genuinely believe that with time Y/N would have fixed this on her own. Just taken some time. I can't say for sure, as overuse of the herb isn't common. Honestly, I think once she felt at ease again, happy and content, safe. It was enough to bring the wolf back.” Shuri recorded images and took your hand to help you back up. Making you ponder on what she had said, glancing at Steve. 

Steve looked rather proud of you, and piped up once more. “Last question. She's back right, for good? No in and out disappearing on Y/N anymore?” 

You gave a stretch as you stood, curious now to Shuri’s answer, who prominently shook her head. “She's back where she wants to be. All those little electric waves, ones of content. She won't be disappearing again unless someone shoots you with a dose like that again.” 

“Yeah, that will not be happening. Fuck that time was more then enough for me.” You tuck back into Steve’s side, shaking your head firmly and the Little Wolf mimicked the action. 

Steve growled as well. “I'm seconding that, I’m bringing Y/N home, might never leave Pack Lands again.” 

Shuri laughed, folding her arms. “Right, just like T’Challa thinks I’m never leaving.” 

“Ha, you arent. I need my number one scientist here doing her work.” T’Challa strode in, nodding to the Wolves before arching a brow in surprise. “Starting late today?” 

“Actually Brother, we’ve done it. Y/N Wolf is back and just as strong as ever.” 

The King's expression widened, and he turned towards the two of them. 

“That is fantastic news Y/N!” Taking your hand, he enclosed it in both of his before lifting your knuckles to brush his lips against them. “I suppose I should set you both up for transportation home?” 

Steve looked down at you as he spoke. “Tomorrow morning perhaps? If Y/N is up for it, I would like to take her out for a run, if your offer still stands?” 

T’Challa nodded with a smile. “Of course Alpha, I wish it was a full moon but you two can go anywhere within’ Wakandas borders.” 

You couldn't help but feel excitement at the idea of a night run with Steve through Wakanda. 

Resting the remainder of that day in your rooms, You and Steve were lazy lovers passing the time, mostly talking about how good it would be to be home, as well as how you both wanted to stay a bit longer. A light dinner, and then when night started to fall, you both made your way down to the palace entrance to find T’Challa and Shuri waiting, offering to show you two around a bit. Steve’s hand rubbed against your back, kissing your shoulder while whispering. “Are you up for this Little One?” 

“More than you know Steve.” You stated while stepping away from Steve, shedding your clothing. The Alpha kept you blocked from anyone else while doing the same motions, and it was rather quick you had shifted into your Little Wolf, shaking your fur out and twisting to meet up with the Alpha, which he twined around you as well in greeting. His muzzle pressing against your ruff, and long swipes of a pink tongue cleaned your face, your ears, dragging down your neck while you nibbled back in his fur, rubbing against him momentarily. It was a joyful reunion for the Wolves as well as you and both of you started to play with one another until the two Panthers joined you with graceful fluid like bounds. They gave loud purrs as the two felines head butted each other and bright yellow eyes turned to the Wolves, flicking the tips of their tails, and rolling forward in the fluid way only cats can achieve. They ended up disappearing down the trail leading away from the palace, and the jungle started to come to life with the sound of monkeys giving out warning shrieks that the panthers were back in their domain. 

Your ears were perked after them, and you pushed to leap forward, Steve following right behind as you ducked into the heavy jungle foliage. 

Leaves slapped at the Alpha, making him growl and snap at the heavy foliage, missing the northern pine forests of home. But it started to thin, and he caught up to you as you slowed down, your head swiveling back and forth, inhaling for the panthers. Steve brushed up alongside of you, lifting his muzzle to locate the Panthers, when he caught sight of shadows moving in the jungle canopy. A loud roar made you tilt up as well, ear perked as the smaller of the two started dropping down till she came sailing through the air and landing lightly, she pawed gently at You, enticing you into a playful chase. You immediately sprinted for Steve’s side, and he settled in. Steve watched his Little Wolf and the Panther chase one another around vine covered trees and dart under giant leaves dripping water. First You would be on Shuris side, nipping at her shoulder when she would spin nimbly and tackle you till you raced with a quick burst, outpacing the Panther, back and forth you two twisted and turned to get away from the other. 

T’Challa jumped down alongside Steve, kneading the ground before sinking down, flicking his tail back and forth, watching as well. The Alphas head moved back and forth, never breaking eye contact, and when the two of you faced off, you growled and Shuri roared back at you, testing each other.

It alarmed the Alpha, who moved to get up, and T’Challa beat him to it, giving his own sharp roar calling his sister back when he sensed the Alpha next to him getting uneasy. Shuri snarled back at him, headbutting You in a goodbye before leaping back up into the canopy. The King bowed his head to the Alpha before joining his sister. Leaving the two of you alone. 

You sensed your Alphas unease at the moment, and you padded up to him, brushing up under his chin and nibbling at him to settle him back down. But he nudged at you, pushing you down the path you two had been exploring earlier, ready to keep you two moving. You both fell in an easy stride together this time as the jungle floor opened up, mossy and green. Everything seemed to cool off under the canopy, both the wolves comfortable. Little animals scattered, insects buzzing around with bright colors, that were a constant interest to you as you would snap at them and send them flying again to escape. Soon the Jungle gave way to tall grass, and the sound of animals surrounded you in the dark. 

Keeping close to your Alpha, you both ran up on a herd of elephants, their long trunks reaching out as you both stretched your necks, sniffing at them before leaping away when they tried to touch you. When one stomped her foot in warning, Steve had enough, and steered you away from the herd. Weaving back and forth through the grass, you both skirted low to the ground past Rhinos grazing, lifting their heads to watch you both pass by. Neither of you wanted to feel the edge of that horn, so decided to give a wider circle around. Steve was sure to keep himself between You and the massive beasts. They came up on leaping gazelles racing away from them, and both of you couldnt help but give chase to these. You both gave up after a few minutes, the deer like creatures much faster than you two could ever be, even Sam and Pietro would have a hard time pacing along with them. Once it was apparent neither of you were continuing, they set back to grazing. 

There was only one part of the run that turned Steve uneasy. They happened to stumble across a pack of Hyenas scavenging a carcass, and they all took interest in your unique scent. Their laughter echoing around the wolves in a menacing way. Steve nudged at you to lead you away from them when one skirted close to snap its jaws and push you two to back up. Steve turned on the pack of wild Hyenas, stepping over the carcass and started to descend on the two of you. Steve snarled deeply, the fur along his spine raising and his ruff bristling, turning his focus on the Hyenas Alpha Female as she stalked closer. Steve's fangs flashed in the dark, and his demands made her cower in surprise at the force coming from him. The rest of her pack stalling seeing their Alpha lower before him, to a male most of all. The laughter started to grow high pitched with unease at the situation. You ducked around the bristling Alpha, ears pinned back, rumbling back at her. The Hyena sensed they weren't just ordinary animals to be chased off. Wet dragging breaths overcame the scent of blood and decay from the carcass she had been feasting on, filling her lungs with ice cold sensations, unlike anything her kind had experienced before. They were similar to the Panthers that prowled their lands, except they weren't. Missing from the shifters was the muskiness of the jungle. Their scent was sharper, it stung her nose with a cold sensation. Even their bodies were not made for streaking across the sun soaked plains or traveling in heavy leaf cover. Too big, too much fur, muzzles long with fangs, yet not made to rip into thick animal hides like theirs was. They were just too different, and she didn't want to test what they would do to her. Shaking her head to clear their scent from her senses, she started sinking further back from the growling Alpha’s reach. Her laughing bark sent the wild hyenas scattering away, breaking their attack formation. Retreating back towards the carcass, once they fell back, she skirted away, out of Steve’s sight. 

Once she was gone, you brushed against Steve to ease him back to you, and the two of you turned away from where the hyenas were cackling out of sight, fighting once more among themselves over the carcass they had claimed. You headed back towards the jungle, avoiding the rest of the plains occupants. Which Steve was relieved, another reason for them to return home. At home, the forests belonged to them. There were no worries in what was lurking out of sight. In Wakanda it was all different, they were not the beast at the very top. Deciding it was enough for you both tonight, when you gave a wide mouthed, fang flashing yawn, you both returned to the palace, and made it up to your room. 

Once inside and the door closed, Steve backed you onto the bed, and settled over you, covering you in soft bites and whispered words pressed against your skin. “Are you tired Little One?” he let his tongue drag between your breasts while he lowered down your body slightly. Your hands roamed over his back, and rubbed the back of his neck while you arched into his mouth where he sucked a nipple into his warmth, lashing his tongue over the peak and then rolling you gently between his teeth. 

You hummed in satisfaction, letting your body roll underneath his while you turned your gaze down at Steve loving on your breasts, his hand had the other covered, kneading it lightly and using his thumb to tease the tip till it hardened. “Not too tired Alpha.” you admitted and he lifted his head with a grin. Leaning up to kiss you deeply while using a hand to spread your thighs open, in which you curled your legs around his waist. 

“That's good, cause I haven't stopped thinking about you wrapped around me like this all evening.” He said while he claimed you with a roll of his hips, filling you with him as his hands weaved with yours. It was soft and slow, taking his time to bring you to the point you were pleading softly against his shoulder for a release. Steve’s hand cupped the back of your head while kissing your temple, his hips starting to move faster in and out of you with a grunt of effort. It was quick when your pussy started to squeeze him and milk him, ready for his knot to lock you to him. Steve brought  you to the point of howling his name and clutching yourself around him, clinging to him and not able to let go. You settled on his chest, and let the silence bring a sense of calm and peace over both of you. When you two finally fell asleep, you were sprawled over his chest and sated. There was no need for words to end the day together. 

The dawn came to find you two still tangled around one another. 

T’Challa, Shuri and the Queen all waited for the two of you, the jet ready to be boarded. It was a teary goodbye for you and Shuri, growing rather close to the young woman in your time here, Steve firmly shook T’Challas hand with a thank you and bowed to the Queen. You let your hand slide up Steves' back as he rose once more, and you let your head lower, a flash of the back of your neck showing her your respect. 

“Thank you, everyone for your help. Should you ever need anything from us, please let us know. My Pack, and myself especially are indebted to you.” Steve said truthfully, and T’Challa smiled. 

“I'm sure we will see each other again Alpha, Y/N, have a safe travel home. Steve, I'm sure you are familiar with flying?” 

“Of course, we will have it sent back as soon as possible.” 

“That is all I ask.”

Finishing with goodbyes, you both stepped on the jet. You couldn't help the look of awe that slid over your face while Steve immediately fell into the Pilots chair, while you buckled into the co pilots. You watched as he leaned forward to flick on switches and the engine hummed to life. “Ready for home Little One?” He asked as his hands settled on the steering column. 

You wriggled in your seat and leaned in the window waving while speaking. “Absolutely, take us home Alpha.” 

When Steve heard what he wanted to har, he shifted the column, and the jet started lifting off. You squealed a bit as your heart went into your throat, laughing at the sensation. Steve grinned over at your reaction, taking your hand while he pointed the jet in the direction needed, and let it speed up. The flight home was filled with you questioning the dash of the aircraft, and Steve doing his best to teach you how it all worked. 

Of course T’Challa didn't send you all home empty handed, and once Steve landed the Jet just outside of the compound, and all the Pack came to greet Steve, you happened to stay inside a few more minutes. Exploring further, you happened to stumble on several crates in the back. “Steve? Come look at this.” 

Ducking his head back in, Steve went to find you, and located you kneeling next to one of the crates, trying to find how it opened. Steve was quick to pry open a top, and it was just filled with different items Wakanda specialized in. “Hey Sam, get some people up here, we come bearing gifts.” 

Fruity wine, dried food, clothing, weapons, if T’Challa could send it he did, and the rest of the afternoon was sorting through it together. 

Finally that evening found you pouring a glass of the wine for Sara at the island in Steve’s kitchen, telling Sara and Sam all about Wakanda. Steve now and then piped up, filling in the time you were unconscious to the world.

Once the questions died down, you cleared your throat. “Has anyone heard from Bucky, Clint, Wanda, and Pietro?” 

Sara sipped from her wine glass and shook her head, Sam at her side did the same motion. “Nothing yet. But Natasha was right out on their trail as soon as she got back. You know she wont stop till she finds something.” 

Steve poured himself a taste of the wine, and handed it to you afterwards to finish off. “She will probably check in a few days, let us know what's going on.” Glancing at the time and then outside, he nipped at your shoulder. “Ready for the Full Moon Run Little One?” 

You tipped your head back to drain the last swallow and set the glass down, hoping off the stool at the bar. 

“Yup, we will see you two out there.” You said to Sam and Sara, who waved you two off to give you a chance to shift in private. Racing out the door, you leaped off the porch, twisting on your toes to watch Steve, who paused to shed his shirt, grinning to himself at your enthusiasm. 

<We got lucky.> Your Little Wolf crooned, admiring the Alphas fit form as he started to stalk towards you, undoing his belt to slide out of the pants. 

That we did. 

You started to shed clothes, dancing just out of his reach till you started to run away, tossing your panties at him last before you fell into your wolf form, howling at him to hurry up. Steve made a show of inhaling against them before stuffing them in the back of his jeans pocket, quick to yank them off and toss them back towards his porch while you sprinted away, howling for him to come join you

<Welcome Home Steve. Now let's go get her before she is gone!> 

Welcome Home indeed. 

He shifted and paused at the tree line, his howl bursting through the night, signaling the start of the run, and he followed after You while you weaved among the trees, leading him deeper into their running grounds, back home where they belonged. 

[is-it-art-tho]

This is Chapter 9!

Chapter 1. Chapter 2. Chapter 3. Chapter 4. Chapter 5. Chapter 6.   Chapter 7. Chapter 8.

Summary: Dick begins the healing process.

By all accounts, Dick should not have survived.

That was what he gleaned from murmured conversations between nurses and snippets of news coverage. His medical records had filled in some blanks, too.

Concussion, multiple fractures, internal hemorrhaging, lacerations, cardiac arrest.

Cardiac arrest. The words had played on a loop in his head ever since his doctor had first said them, and even now Dick couldn’t quite make any sense of it.

The doctor had smiled at him afterwards, informed him of how lucky he was to be alive. “Usually when someone goes into cardiac arrest in the field, they don’t even make it to the hospital,” she’d said. “Good thing Batman was there, huh?”

“Batman?”

“Mhm. EMTs saw him. He must have been doing CPR before they got there.”

“Hm,” was all Dick had offered in response, but internally he had clung to those minor details like a drowning man grasping at driftwood.

The majority of that night was lost to him. Listening to the news helped somewhat, but reporters only knew so much. And none of the others – Barbara, Tim, any of them – had been very forthcoming, either.

Dick hadn’t pressed, though. The haunted look in their eyes whenever they came to visit him in the hospital had been enough for him to decide never to bring that night up again. He already hated that he might have inadvertently become added fodder for future nightmares; no need to throw gas on the fire.

He could live with not-knowing what had happened if it meant keeping them from reliving it.

“Richard?”

The young voice dragged Dick’s gaze away from the curtains he’d been staring at to the doorway. He’d been back at the manor for nearly two days now, in bed mostly, and in that time he had yet to see Damian except for the ride back from the hospital.

Now the boy was standing at the threshold with a tea service in his hands, his mouth curled in an uncertain frown. “Am I… interrupting?”

Dick smirked and made a show of looking around the empty bedroom. “Yeah. I’m pretty swamped here, as you can see.”

“You know what I meant.”

“I know, but it was a dumb question, anyway. You know you’re never interrupting, Damian. C’mon.” Dick waved him in with a jerk of his chin then froze and winced as a jolt of pain shot up his spine and into his head.

Damian entered stiffly and set the tray on the bedside table, shoving aside pill bottles and a glass of water.

“Damian?” Dick asked after what felt like a long pause. Damian’s eyes were locked on the tea set, his face scrunched in a way that made him look nervous and uncomfortable and young.

Dick reached out with his good hand and tugged on the boy’s sleeve. “Hey, you okay?”

“Of course, I am,” Damian snapped, pulling his arm out of reach. He scowled at a bookshelf. “Drake is having a difficult time.”

“Tim?” Dick tried to push himself more upright and quickly aborted that mission with a hiss when he felt a sharp tug at the sutures across his abdomen. “What do you mean? What’s going on?”

“He blames himself for what happened. For not locating you sooner.”

“He told you that?”

“I overheard him talking to Stephanie.”

“Aw, Tim.” Tim had been noticeably distant, it was true, but Dick had interpreted it as general anxiety about the whole situation. Never in a million years would he have guessed that Tim had managed to convince himself this was his fault.

Damian muttered something, hands now shoved into his pockets.

“What?”

“I said he is a fool. To act as if he is the one who…” Damian swallowed hard, glowering at the carpet.

Birds were gathering and chirping in a bush by the open window, and though the curtains were drawn to protect Dick’s concussed brain from harsh light, hazy beams still found their way in, spilling across the floor and along the foot of the bed.

“He is not the one to blame,” Damian finished.

“No one is.” Dick couldn’t tell if it was the drugs or his injuries that were making this conversation so hard to follow, but he felt like he was missing something, straggling two steps behind. “At least, not any of you.”

Damian looked at him with open disbelief. “I failed you, Richard. If not for my ineptitude, you wouldn’t have– I should have gone with you when you left that night. None of this would have happened if I had just–”

“Stop.” Dick had meant it to be firm, but the word sounded more like a plea. His head was really pounding now, and keeping the pain out of his voice was becoming increasingly difficult. “You can’t let yourself start doing that or else you’ll never stop. It was a freakish, sucky thing that none of us could have anticipated and therefore probably couldn’t have avoided, either. And yeah, maybe if you had been there it wouldn’t have happened. Or maybe something worse would’ve happened instead. We don’t know and we never will, but what I do know is that you did the best you could in the moment.”

“And it was not good enough.”

“Damian–”

“It is my job to be good enough,” Damian maintained. “If I can’t protect you then…” He let the rest go unsaid, his lips pressing together as his eyes glistened. “I am supposed to be able to protect you.”

Oh. So that’s what this was about.

“Damian,” Dick tried again, and what was meant to be a sigh turned into a low groan as his ribs refused to cooperate.

Damian tensed, wide-eyed.

“We’re good. I’m okay,” Dick promised before the boy could sound the alarms. Then, “I’m not Batman anymore, Damian. You’re not my Robin. You don’t have to put that kind of pressure on yourself.”

And again, Damian gave him a look like Dick still just wasn’t getting it, like he missing something glaring and obvious and not worth explaining except to say, “Yes, I do, Richard.”

Dick started to say something, but Damian continued, “You are saying that excessive self-reproach is counter-productive. I understand the sentiment. And I appreciate it. Thank you.”

He turned to the tea service and begin pouring a cup, his entire demeanor changed, suddenly casual . “How is your pain?”

“I…” Dick paused, once again feeling off balance and too slow as the tone and subject of the discussion switched so suddenly. “A four.”

“So, a seven,” Damian deduced, taking one of the pill bottles from the nightstand and opening it after checking the label. “Alfred said if it is above a five then you are to take two of these.”

Dick considered fighting him on this, reluctant to lose the rest of the morning to a drug-fueled haze, but the pulsing ache beneath his skull and the one radiating through his ribs made it difficult. He let Damian tip the capsules into his open palm and threw them back without complaint.

“You got anything planned this morning?” Dick asked, accepting the cup the tea Damian held out.

“Nothing important.”

“Great.” Dick reached across his chest with his good arm to pat the open space in the bed beside him.

After a brief hesitation, Damian circled the mattress and climbed in, his movements so careful that Dick hardly jostled at all.

“What language are you on right now?” Dick asked, settling back into the pillows. It might have been psychosomatic, but already he was feeling drowsy.

“Hungarian.”

“Huh. What happened to Korean?”

“Too easy. I finished that a week ago,” Damian said dismissively, though there was a self-satisfied smirk tugging at his lips.

Dick chuckled. “Show-off. How far along are you?”

“More or less conversational.”

“Nice.” Dick’s eyes were closed now. “Show me something.”

“I am not circus monkey, Richard.”

“Y’know, I grew up in the circus,” Dick mumbled. “The monkeys were my favorite. Miss those little guys.”

He thought he heard Damian sigh – or maybe it was a laugh – before the boy asked, “What do you want to hear?”

“That song Bruce hums all the time. The one he sings when he thinks he’s alone. What’s it called?”

Damian’s voice sounded muffled and far away when he answered, “Am I Blue.”

“Yeah. That.”

Damian cleared his throat and began to recite the lyrics in near-perfect Hungarian. He paused occasionally to search for a word, at times reversing to correct a conjugation before moving on.

Dick was almost completely gone now. The bed had fallen away, and he felt like he was floating through the air with Damian’s voice as a welcome backdrop.

He didn’t notice the quiet chatter had stopped until Damian asked, “Richard?”

“Mm…?”

“You’re not just Batman to me. I mean, that is not why I feel responsible for your wellbeing.”

“’Kay. Y’too…”

After a brief pause, the gentle half-singing began again, and Dick slipped away on the familiar melody.

______________

All of the lights were off in the den when Alfred breezed in with a tray of hot chocolate just as A Charlie Brown Christmas began on the TV. Cass and Stephanie’s arms sprang up from their spots on the floor like weeds, and he placed mugs in their waiting hands before circling around to the others. Tim, curled up on the sofa, accepted his with a muttered thanks without looking up from his phone. Bruce took one for himself and one for Damian who was smushed into his side, mouth hanging open in dead sleep. When Alfred got to where Barbara and Dick were sharing a blanket on the couch, he smiled and set their mugs on the end table.

“Thanks, Alfred,” Dick whispered, glancing over at Barbara’s head on his shoulder to find that she had fallen asleep.

“Of course,” Alfred said. He set the tray aside and took a seat in a nearby chair. “How are you feeling?”

“Good,” Dick answered, perhaps a bit too quickly because Alfred raised a dubious eyebrow at him.

“Honest,” he added with a rueful grin.

“Well, I’m glad to hear it.”

They sat in silence for a while, the only noise coming from the TV and hushed laughter and whispers between Cassandra and Stephanie on the floor.

The air was thick with the ghost of Thanksgiving dinner and fresh hot chocolate, creating a warm bouquet that was at once comforting and nostalgic. Bruce had a faint smile on his face as he watched the movie, colors and lights splashing across his face. He had one arm draped over Damian’s small frame as if holding him there.

At some point, Tim had stowed his phone and turned so that his legs dangled off the armrest and he could see the screen better, hot chocolate clutched between his hands.

It was one of those admittedly rare moments where there was no clock ticking anywhere in the background. There was work to be done, for sure, but it was not a looming obligation. Tonight, the city for once was quiet. Dick couldn’t remember the last time he had passed an uninterrupted holiday in this house.

“Something is on your mind,” Alfred noted, taking a small sip from his mug.

“I was just thinking about today.”

“Nothing short of a miracle,” the older man said, instantly understanding.

“No kidding. It almost feels suspicious. Like the calm before the–”

“Don’t,” he said firmly, his face illuminated just enough by the TV for Dick to register the stern frown there. “I will not allow you to sully this gift with your dark premonitions. Just enjoy this for what it is: a welcome and much needed respite after the events of the past few weeks.”

“You’re right, you’re right,” Dick conceded, cringing a little in self-reproach. “Sorry, Al.”

The old man nodded, his face softening. “Now, would you mind telling me what is actually on your mind?”

Dick let out a breathy, half-hearted laugh. “You’re good.”

“I am indeed.”

With a sigh, he looked toward the TV. A Black Friday commercial was advertising half-priced gaming systems.

“Hey,” Tim whispered, waving his arm at Stephanie.

“What?”

“Get me that.” He pointed at the commercial, and Stephanie scoffed at him before resuming her muted conversation with Cass. After a few days and a much-needed conversation, Dick was happy to see Tim back to his normal self.

“It’s been a while,” he admitted now, returning his attention to Alfred who was watching him patiently, “since I’ve heard from Jason. Over a month, actually. Not the longest we’ve gone without speaking, but it’s the longest in a while.”

The cup paused halfway to Alfred’s mouth, his brow creasing. “Over a month?”

“Yeah,” Dick sighed. “We went on patrol together in October and things got a little rough. I said some stuff and we haven’t spoken since. I’m not even sure he’s still in the city.”

When Alfred continued to look at him, Dick asked, “What?”

“If you don’t mind my asking, how has your memory been as of late?”

Dick adjusted himself, gingerly repositioning Barbara’s head on his shoulder when he felt her beginning to slide off. “Fine now. I can’t remember much of that night. Or, pretty much anything, really. But otherwise I’m all right. Why?”

“And the others? What have they told you?”

“About what happened? I haven’t asked. I didn’t want to... Well, you know.”

“Indeed,” Alfred said with a somber nod, setting down his mug. “It is a night, or a week, rather, that I’m certain we would all like to leave firmly in the past. But even so, I believe there are at least a few details that you ought to know.”

[asphyxiateher]

Only Monsters Come Out at Night *Chapter 6*

Chapter 6: How Do I Live Without the Ones I Love? Summary: Veronica wants Desdemona to come to her senses and escape Castle Dimitrescu with her. The problem is...Desdemona doesn’t want to. A/N: Character death. Graphic descriptions of violence. I  tried to link my previous chapters and I’m having issues sjfodsogsdkg I’ll edit when I get a chance to lol

              Desdemona was slowly losing her mind the longer she tried to stay alive in Castle Dimitrescu. Alcina’s daughters were more than what she could handle but she did what she could to stay on their good side. Her methods were unusual to say the least, but she managed to live another day because of her strategizing. Bela was the eldest daughter, so her needs came first when she required Desdemona’s attention. Cassandra was the middle child, and she had her own insecurities that made her a little high maintenance, but Desdemona didn’t mind that at all. Daniela was…well, she was certainly rambunctious enough to keep the surviving Hawthorne twin on her toes. Desdemona had managed to prevent another poor maiden from being struck by a blunt object by immediately interfering and pulling Bela to the side to calm her down with a kiss. They stayed in each other’s warm embrace for quite a while, giving the maiden time to excuse herself and run off elsewhere. The distraction was effective, and Desdemona could have pulled away the moment she knew the other woman was safe, but she didn’t. Bela hummed happily against her lips and Desdemona reveled in the feeling of being wanted so of course she was reluctant to break the spell between her and Bela. That’s what was starting to feel unusual for Desdemona. The more time she spent with each of the sisters, the less she hated it. They were evil, filthy creatures and yet she could not get enough of them.

Cassandra made her forget that she was a sadistic monster that enjoyed tormenting the people around her for giggles. Desdemona decided to watch some of her movies with Cassandra on her laptop, and she made the mistake of playing Chicago, her all-time favorite musical. As soon as ‘Cell Block Tango’ came on, Cassandra became so infatuated with the song and the scene itself, she asked Desdemona to replay it several times until she memorized the lyrics. It was fascinating to observe the vampire attempt to recreate the dances she had just seen so she laughed at the utter absurdity of it all. Cassandra suddenly stopped dancing and glared at Desdemona. “What are you laughing at?” She asks, now completely uncertain of herself as she nervously plays with her hair.

“Nothing, I swear. You just look so happy, it’s kind of cute.” Desdemona replies, her mouth snapping shut the moment she realized what she had just told the other woman.

She’s blushing now, unsure of why she had just told her captor that she thought she was cute. Cassandra’s scowl slowly turns into a knowing smirk, and she places her hands on her hips as she stares down at Desdemona with hungry eyes. Desdemona gulps. Was she about to be gutted alive or were they about to engage in what Cassandra calls physical play? She didn’t have a chance to rethink what she could have done differently in that moment as Cassandra throws herself on top of Desdemona, her hands clawing at her clothes and cupping the most intimate parts of her body. While Cassandra respected her boundaries when it came to wanting more, Desdemona did not come out of that room unscathed.

The hickeys and bruises did not bother any of the sisters much as they knew they had to share their favorite little pet between all of them. Daniela enjoyed marking Desdemona as much as the other two did but she was convinced her love bites meant more to her human pet because their “love” was true and eternal. Desdemona dared not contradict her in fear of her throat being slit but she played along with it. Eventually, Daniela would grow bored of her, would she not? It was hard to say especially when she wanted to snuggle with Desdemona almost every night and wanted her to read one of her books aloud. Desdemona would read to Daniela and the red-haired vampire would listen patiently, her fingers tracing senseless patterns along her plaything’s arms.

Other days, Daniela liked to play rough and tossed Desdemona around like a rag doll when it was her turn to spend time with the pet. Daniela just wanted to assert her dominance with the human and to let her know that she was hers to love and play with. Desdemona endured painful slaps to her face and rear, bites to her breasts and deep scratches on her back only for Daniela to giggle at her handiwork and whisper in her ear how much she loved seeing the smaller girl covered in her markings. It ought to be too much to bear for Desdemona, but for some reason…it wasn’t enough. She kept going back for more every time so she must have learned to like it. Desdemona figured she must have been conditioned to enjoy it because no longer could she hear the rational voice in her head telling her to run away and push back but instead, she hears whispers that soothe her into submission. She is convinced she’s losing her mind and her best friend could easily verify that.

In fact, Veronica had not been herself either for quite some time, Desdemona noticed, and her behavior had been odd ever since she toured unseen parts of the mansion with Lady Dimitrescu. Her demeanor was subdued in a way she had never seen before, and she tried asking her friend about it but all she would get in return was a furious shaking of her head. There was no glimmer of hope in Veronica’s eyes anymore; instead, Desdemona found herself staring into a void of despair whenever she tried meeting her friend’s gaze. It was a little worrying for a while until one day, she recognized a familiar spark ignite in Veronica once more.

 Her friend was hot-headed and sometimes the littlest of things could set her off and today, of all days, Veronica reacted to the sight of Desdemona cozying up to Daniela in the library. Desdemona was not aware that her best friend was allowed to roam the premises freely but judging by the uniform her friend was presumably forced into, she was possibly tasked with cleaning the ground level while the other maids were sent upstairs. Veronica kept a neutral facial expression as she approached her best friend, but she swallowed hard at the sight of Daniela’s hand being held by Desdemona. She couldn’t help but clear her throat awkwardly as she stood in front of them snuggled up so comfortably on the couch.

“Dezzy, I need to have a word with you…in private, if you can grant me the time.” Veronica says stiffly, her nostrils flaring the longer she found herself staring at Desdemona. As for Desmond’s twin, she was in such a state that would imply she had just gotten intimate with the vampire with the smug grin on her face. Veronica noticed a new hickey on the nape of her best friend’s neck, and she had to clench her fists to keep herself grounded.

“Veronica! Yeah, I’ve been wondering where you went, I think we need to catch up. Will you excuse us, Daniela?” Desdemona responds, her cheeks reddening at the fact that she had been caught in a private moment with one of her mistresses.

 Daniela lazily glances up at her mother’s little plaything and grimaces at the sight of her.

“Don’t keep me waiting, love. You know I don’t like to be kept waiting.” Daniela says as she plants a sloppy kiss on the corner of Desdemona’s mouth. She casts a menacing look over to Veronica before she turns to walk away, giggling like a madwoman.

Desdemona exhales anxiously and gestures for Veronica to lead the way into the corridor. Veronica ignores the request and leads them to the nearest available window, staring outside and trying to make sense of what she could. The windows were frosted over, ice building up quickly and the view of the outside world was smothered by snow. Desdemona used to like the cold weather, but recently, she’s developed an aversion to freezing temperatures. She wanted to stay warm and snuggled up close with Bela, Cassandra, and Daniela. She could not admit it out loud, but she ached to be near any of them and there was a profound sense of longing whenever she was away too long. She is changing and she thinks Veronica has noticed.

“You know, it’s amazing how quickly you’ve forgotten that these freaks were responsible for Desmond’s death. Our mothers are out there trying to get a hold of us because we haven’t been keeping in touch like we’ve promised and now they’re thinking something horrible must have happened. News flash: your twin brother, my loving boyfriend, was disemboweled in front of us and you’re out here fucking the vampires that are torturing us! What the fuck, Desdemona?!” Veronica shouted, the calm and collected manner in how she usually carried herself in conversations quickly turning up a few notches.

Desdemona was taken aback, clearly not prepared to have this conversation with her best friend though she knew it wasn’t going to be easy regardless.

“V-Veronica, I haven’t seen you in three days since you Alcina took you and you want to talk about what I’ve resorted to doing for survival?” Desdemona asks, ignoring the way Veronica rolled her eyes at that.

“For survival or for your sick pleasure, Des? In the past few days since my unfortunate trip down to what I think is the portal to Hell, I’ve seen you and how you behave around these monsters. I’m worried for you; I think they’re changing you and I don’t like it. I understand being compliant out of fear, but you’ve been getting real goddamn cozy with them, like they’re all your lovers or whatever! I need you to tell me what is going on because from my perspective, it looks like you stopped giving a shit about survival and you are just giving yourself freely to them like some pathetic, spineless slut!” Veronica replies hotly, taking a step towards Desdemona, who doesn’t flinch. Daniela was still hovering around the library but she instantly appears next to a bookshelf to observe the conversation more carefully should the other human overstep her boundaries. She pulls out her sickle and grips it tightly in case she has to defend her lover from the loud-mouthed pet her mother enjoyed tormenting.

“You have some nerve, Veronica, you won’t even tell me what happened to you down there! You don’t think I’ve been traumatized by what I’ve experienced so far? I don’t know what’s fucking happening to me anymore! Everything you’re telling me to do, like find weaknesses and whatnot, it all makes sense to me but it’s not sinking in for whatever reason. I have this urge to run away but it goes away when I hear these voices in my head telling me not to leave the girls. I’m tethered to all of them, V, I don’t know how but there’s this fucking connection I have with each and every one of them and it’s like I’m in physical pain when I think about hurting or leaving them. I’m more whole as a person now then I ever was before because of them and I don’t know what that says about me.” Tears begin to stream down Desdemona’s face and Veronica somewhat relents.

She lets out a frustrated sigh and places a comforting hand on Desdemona’s shoulder, giving it a light squeeze before she speaks to her with a calm voice.

 “You want to talk about traumatic experiences, then let’s do it without downplaying each other’s experiences. I clearly don’t know what you’re going through, it sounds…difficult, and very hard to believe, but you’re obviously bothered by it. Do you want to know what I just went through to get the opportunity to speak to you outside of the dungeon? Another maid paid with her life to grant me this position. The countess dragged me to some dark, untouched part of the castle where we were confronted by this horrifying…slimy, blob creature that looked like a goddamn mutated fetus.” “You can hear its ungodly laughter as it approached us and from the elevator, Alcina pushed out the other maid that was with us and she locked the door behind her. I had to watch this ungodly science experiment eat another human being alive and Alcina made me watch every second of it. Every bone crunching sound it made and the unforgettable wailing from the poor maid haunts me when I try to fall asleep at night. If it weren’t for that maid, I doubt I’d be up here begging you to come to your senses. I need your help, Dezzy. Please understand how much I need you to see how badly we need to get the fuck out of here.” Veronica finishes as she pulls Desdemona into a hug. She’s weeping onto her shoulder now and all Desdemona could do was squeeze her tighter and hold her for longer. Even though Veronica had been ready to throw hands with Desdemona, it was almost always too easy to get her to calm down when she held her like this in her arms. Everything felt normal in that moment, like everything was as it should be but deep down, Desdemona knew that wasn’t true. Especially when Veronica sniffed and pulled out a journal, almost like it was a personal diary, and placed it in Desdemona’s hands.

“I think once you read the first few entries, you’ll be a little more comfortable with the idea of leaving this place once and for all, just you and me. I found this while I was snooping around in that horrible part of the castle and I just knew I had to show you. All we have to do is open a few windows and we can do away with lady Dimitrescu’s daughters. Once we get rid of them, we escape mama’s wrath and run back home where we belong.” Veronica tells Desdemona as she plants a kiss on her forehead. Desdemona did not have much of a chance to respond before Daniela spoke up for her. They hear maniacal laughter echoing from behind one of the bookshelves and it’s all it takes for Veronica’s sour mood to return.

“Get rid of me and my sisters? Oh you foul human, it’s so adorable that you think you can take on all of us, let alone me. I’ll let you off with a warning because my plaything is attached to you for whatever reason but touch her again, I’ll shove this sickle so far down your throat, you’ll be shitting steel. Now back off!” Daniela warns as she approaches Veronica, a move her friend was hoping would happen since they just so happened to be standing next to a window.

Guilt begins to settle in the pit of Desdemona’s stomach as a new conflict arose from within. She shouldn’t be conspiring against her mistresses for they loved and cared for her but then again, she should be siding with her best friend, someone she had known since she was eight years old. She didn’t know what to do, her worry beginning to initiate a full blown panic attack. “Why don’t you make me back off, you disgusting piece of rotten filth! If I’m going to go out, it’s going to be on my fucking terms and I’m not going down without a fight.” Veronica says as she shoves Desdemona behind her.

Daniela smirks, then raises her sickle in preparation for the fight to come. What comes next sends both Daniela and Desdemona into a panic. Veronica quickly twists around to fully open the window, a freezing cold blast of air hitting Daniela and impairing her almost immediately. The pained shriek she lets out could be felt throughout the castle, but Desdemona feels it tugging at her heart.

“I…don’t…do well…in the…cold! You can’t stop me…mother…will kill…you!” Daniela moans, dropping her weapon as she starts to solidify under the intense temperature change in the room.

The red-haired woman is wildly swinging her arms around and Desdemona can tell she’s slowing down. It’s only going to get worse, and Desdemona is torn.

Veronica rushes to pick up the bust of a famous historical figure off the nearest pedestal and slams it against Daniela’s head. She howls in pain and Desdemona has to hold back tears as she watches her best friend attempt to murder Alcina’s youngest. She’s frozen to the spot, painfully aware that Veronica is shouting at her and ordering her to help her but she hears dark whispers in her head again. “Daniela, what on Earth are you shouting about – wait, what are you doing to my daughter?! GET YOUR FILTHY HANDS OFF HER AT ONCE!” Alcina’s voice booms through the library and it seems to pull Desdemona out of her reverie.

Alcina looks furious as she strides towards them from across the library, her claws beginning to form and from either side of her follow both of her daughters with terrified expressions on their faces as they watch their sister die from the harsh winter cold air. “Mother, what about Daniela? Is there anything we can do for her or is it too late!?” “Daniela, no, hold on just a little longer, we’re almost there!” Veronica glances over at Desdemona and tosses over Daniela’s sickle to her. “Come on, Des, it’s now or never, let’s send out the message that we should never have gotten fucked with. Let’s go!” She shouts as she encourages Desdemona to deliver the killing blow.

Desdemona is violently shaking as she observes Daniela’s form slowly start to freeze over and it isn’t until she sees the heart-breaking expression on the dying woman’s face that Desdemona decides what to do.

“I don’t…want…to die!” She screeches, the words vibrating in Desdemona’s skull.

The dark whispers tell her that she can still save Daniela’s life and that all would be forgiven should she do so. Her mistress loves her, and she needs her to love her back. Desdemona would have to forsake her old life in order to live out the rest of her days in Castle Dimitrescu but the only obstacle that was left remained alive: Veronica.

Her best friend since elementary school, Desdemona closes her eyes and fondly remembers the first time they met. Veronica brought her Spice Girl dolls to play with at recess but nobody wanted to play with her. Desdemona shyly approached her and asked if she could join in on the fun because she loved the Spice Girls too and Veronica welcomed her into her life. Ever since then, the girls became inseparable. From sleepovers to prom night to celebrating each other’s eighteenth birthdays by going to LGBT nightclubs, Veronica was like family to Desdemona. After this holiday trip, Desmond was going to propose to V and they were all going to move in together down in Colorado where Veronica’s mother lived and where V planned on continuing going to school.

Desdemona exhales and steadies her grip on the sickle as she walks towards the open window. She slams it shut, reluctantly turning to face Veronica who was just about to smash the bust against Daniela’s face again. Cassandra and Bela immediately rush over to Daniela and embrace their younger sibling, relief etched on Alcina’s face for a moment before she refocused her rage towards Veronica.

Desdemona couldn’t take it anymore, she knew she had to follow her heart and so she did. “Dezzy, what the fuck are you -hhhng!” Veronica begins, her jaw dropping as the heavy bust she’d been carrying fell to the floor.

The last thing Veronica’s beautiful dark brown eyes saw were a pair of cold, gray eyes staring at her with regret and soft pink lips mouthing “I’m so sorry, Veronica!” repeatedly. Desdemona pierced through the side of Veronica’s skull with Daniela’s sickle, her hands twisting and pushing until all life finally drained out of her best friend. The hardest part for Desdemona was watching the light leave those familiar pretty eyes and it was all because of her. When she yanked the sickle back out, V’s body dropped to the floor with a loud thud and a chunk of flesh remained on the edge of the weapon she had just used on her best friend. Desdemona felt bile rise in the back of her throat, so she turned and threw up, her hands still shaking after she was able to gather her strength to look up again.

Alcina’s claws retracted as the woman stared down at Veronica’s corpse before looking back at Daniela then over to Desdemona, who was now kneeling on the ground.

“You saved my daughter’s life. Words cannot express how grateful I am for your intervention. I understand this may be difficult for you, but you made the right choice. Thank you.” Alcina tells Desdemona, leaning over to place a comforting hand on her shoulder before retreating to where her daughters stood.

“She saved my life! I told you Desdemona loves me the most out of all of us! She truly cares for me!” Daniela croaks out, trying her best to wriggle free from her sisters’ hold on her but they were stubborn.

“Not bad for her first kill. I prefer a hot blood bath myself, but I’m seriously impressed. Oh crap, I think she’s going to freak out.” Cassandra says with a chuckle as they all watch Desdemona react to Veronica’s death with interest.

Desdemona was sobbing uncontrollably now, her body rocking back and forth as she tries to wipe off the blood on her hands. Her eyes flick over to the sickle with the chunk of brain on the end of it and back to Veronica’s lifeless body. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m so fucking sorry, V! I loved you more than anything!” She whispers to herself, wrapping her arms around herself for comfort. It wasn’t going to last long, however, as Lady Dimitrescu’s daughters surrounded Desdemona and Veronica’s corpse laying at their feet.

“Tonight we celebrate each and every one of you with a feast. This wasn’t how I wanted dinner to be served, but as you can see, Desdemona Hawthorne is eager to please. How can we refuse such a beautiful gift from our lovely newcomer? I say dig in, girls.” Alcina declares before she walks over to Desdemona’s kneeling form and forcefully sets her upright.

“Wait- wait, what do you mean dinner is served? What are you going to do to Veronica’s body?” Desdemona asked with desperation evident in her voice.

Alcina Dimitrescu simply smiled and held Desdemona close to her body, keeping her in place with a headlock so tight that if the younger girl tried to escape, Alcina could easily pull it right off. “Your corruption is not yet complete my dear. I am simply welcoming you to my family and you will become accustomed to how we do everything around here. My daughters love you and you will learn to love everything about them, including how they feast on the blood of the innocent. Now hush, girl, and be thankful you are not the corpse ready to be devoured.” Alcina whispers in her ear before she laughs at Desdemona’s feeble attempts to escape.

“No, oh for the love of God, please don’t make me watch! That’s m-my best friend, please don’t do this to me! I’d rather you kill me now, please, just don’t make me watch!” Desdemona pleads and screams but it does nothing, it only sweetens the air around the ravenous vampires who are about to tear into the corpse at their feet. Daniela growls when she uses her sickle to cut off Veronica’s tongue, Bela giggles as she begins to yank out Veronica’s piercings one by one and Cassandra has already begun working on tearing out her limbs. “Save me her mouth, I wish to savor the flavor of a pathetic nobody that dared to try and take away my precious Desdemona.” Daniela says as she throws her head back to laugh wildly along with Bela and Cassandra.

Desdemona’s screams and protests are ignored, Alcina forcing her eyes open as she’s forced to watch the three vampires consume her best friend. When Bela cuts into certain parts of her flesh, blood sprays out and lands on Desdemona’s face, causing the young girl to feel faint. She eventually can’t handle the horror of watching the girls tear apart Veronica and so she passes out in Lady Dimitrescu’s arms. The last thing she remembers hearing before the world fades to black is Cassandra chastising her mother for laughing and begs her to let Desdemona sleep in her arms instead.

[jawsofhakkontranscript]

Ameridan’s End: Assault the Jaws of Hakkon

(Previous quest - On Ameridan's Trail)

Main questline: Ameridan’s End: Assault the Jaws of Hakkon

This is the first part of "Ameridan's End" questline.

Characters involved: Svarah Sun-Hair, Lace Harding, Bram Kenric, Gurd Harofsen

Preparations are in place to wage assault on the Jaws of Hakkon and search for Inquisitor Ameridan.

Part 1: Speak with Svarah Sun-Hair

Svarah: When you are ready, you have our blades, Inquisitor.

Dialogue options:

Special: Hakkon connects to Ameridan. [1] (If both “Storvacker Caged” and “What Yet Lingers” have been completed.)

General: Let us begin the assault. [2]

[1] Special: Hakkon connects to Ameridan.

PC: You said that the Jaws of Hakkon first tried binding their god in mortal form hundreds of years ago?

Svarah: What of it?

PC: In our search for Inquisitor Ameridan, we learned that he came here to fight a great dragon 800 years ago… A dragon that came from the mountains with Avvar warriors to attack the lowlands.

Svarah: (Laughs.) Your last Inquisitor must have fought well to stop Hakkon himself! [3]

[3] Subsequent dialogue options:

Investigate: This is all right with you? [4]

Investigate: Does this happen often? [5]

[4] Investigate: This is all right with you?

PC: You're not bothered by the idea that our Inquisitor killed your god?

Svarah: He didn't kill him. That would have been easier. Whatever fight your Inquisitor finished, the Jaws of Hakkon started. I find no fault with a warrior defending his people. [Back to 3]

[5] Investigate: Does this happen often?

PC: Do the Avvar gods take mortal form on a regular basis?

Svarah: No. The gods belong in the land of dreams. Whether it is their wish—or some augur's—that brings them here, battle-tears will be shed. The skalds say the Lady of the Skies took mortal form when Tyrdda Bright-Ax first led the Avvar to the mountains. They say many things about Bright-Ax and the Lady. [Back to 3]

[2] General: Let us begin the assault.

PC: I'm ready to attack the Jaws of Hakkon.

Svarah: Good. They will pay the blood-price for what they have done.

(Kenric and Harding enter the Thane's hall.)

Svarah: Your skald and your scout are here. We can plan the assault.

Kenric: Oh, I like the sound of "skald." It's more dramatic than "professor."

Harding: (Coughs.)

Kenric: Yes, well. Everything we've found about Inquisitor Ameridan suggests that he never emerged from that Tevinter fortress.

Svarah: If that is where your Inquisitor defeated Hakkon, that is where the Jaws of Hakkon must perform the rite to free him. [6]

[6] Dialogue options:

General: We can stop them. [7]

General: Or hopefully not. [8]

General: We have a target. [9]

[7] General: We can stop them.

PC: Inquisitor Ameridan saved the lowlands from an Avvar invasion. We cannot do any less. [10]

[8] General: Or hopefully not.

PC: Ideally, we stop them before that. I'd rather not fight an Avvar god if we don't have to. [10]

[9] General: We have a target.

PC: Good. We know where to strike. [10]

[10] Harding: You really have no problem with us killing your god?

Svarah: Gods cannot be reborn until they die. (Laughs.) Hakkon needs a good rebirthing.

Harding: If you say so.

Svarah: With its ice-wall melted, the fortress is open to attack. We must strike soon, before our foes recover.

Harding: They're already trying. I've got most of our forces defending the shrine from Hakkonites who want to restore the wall. [11]

[11] Dialogue options:

General: We're going to take losses. [12]

General: I'm open to ideas. [13]

General: A siege seems unlikely. [14]

[12] General: We're going to take losses.

PC: The fortress was built to be defensible. It's going to cost us a lot of people to take it.

Svarah: Why? [15]

[13] General: I'm open to ideas.

PC: If anyone has suggestions, now is the time.

Svarah: What gives you fear, Inquisitor? Is this not the battle you wanted? [15]

[14] General: A siege seems unlikely.

PC: We don't have time to drag siege equipment through the forest to take down those walls.

Svarah: A siege? Bah! We have no need of rock-throwers and rams. [15]

[15] Kenric: I am no warrior, but with Lady Harding's forces defending the shrine and no way to breach the walls...?

Svarah: (Laughs.) Lowlanders. Why not climb the walls?

Harding: Your warriors can get over those walls before the Hakkonites stop them?

Svarah: This is not a war, Stone-Daughter. This is a raid. We strike at night, clad lightly. We climb the wall and open the gate from inside. [16]

[16] Dialogue options:

General: We are in your debt. [17]

General: I guess this is our plan. [18]

General: Let's move. [19]

[17] General: We are in your debt.

PC: If Stone-Bear Hold can open the gates, we would be grateful.

Svarah: The Jaws of Hakkon have been bugs in my bedroll for months, Inquisitor. We owe you thanks. [20]

[18] General: I guess this is our plan.

PC: Well, then. Unless anyone has something that sounds easier than climbing the walls...?

Svarah: I would not offer what I could not give. It will be done. Perhaps my climbers will earn themselves a legend-mark! [20]

[19] General: Let's move.

PC: Agreed. How soon can we attack?

Svarah: As soon as the sun sets, Inquisitor. This will be a good night. [20]

[20] Harding: Inquisition forces will feign weakness near the shrine. That will draw some of them away from the fortress.

Kenric: Not too many, I hope.

Svarah: Yes. Save some for us!

Harding: (Nods.)

Part 2: Assault the gate.

(The Inquisition’s soldiers and the warriors from Stone-Bear Hold gather in front of the gate of the Tevinter ruin.)

Parve: Right, Inquisitor. Hask and I will climb over.

Hask: I'll be there to catch Parve when he slips.

Parve: 'Course you will. You'll be behind me, after all.

(These two are the same Avvar men who participated in the Test of the Lady - the climbing contest used for settling disputes - that took place when the Inquisition first arrived in Stone-Bear Hold - see “Avvar Allies” main quest.)

Hask (to Parve): 'Ware the guard.

Parve: I've got him.

(The Avvar sneak ahead and start climbing over the walls of the fortress. Meanwhile, the Inquisition leads the assault from the front to distract the Hakkonites.)

Male Hakkonite: There! It's the lowlanders!

Female Hakkonite: Kill the Inquisitor! Death to her/his hold, for Hakkon's glory!

(Storvacker joins the fight.)

Party comments:

Varric: Storvacker, good to see you again!

Dorian: And we have a bear. Hooray!

Sera: Eat them, not us! Got it?

Cole: I'm happy to see you, too!

Svarah Sun-Hair: Greetings from Stone-Bear Hold, you shit-eating goat-lovers!

(The climbers continue scaling the walls.)

Parve: Watch your grip. It slips a bit.

Hask: Bah, you can't grip anything more challenging than your mother's teat.

Parve: (Grunts.) I was aiming for his throat. We'd best hurry.

Hask: Nicely done.

Parve: Be ready, Inquisitor!

(The gate is opened from the inside by the climbers from Stone-Bear Hold.)

Hask: Lady take you, goat-lovers!

Parve (to the Inquisitor): As you please, Inquisitor.

Hask: I'd not tarry. More will be coming.

(Walk through the gate and defeat the Hakkonites defending the battlements.)

Party comments:

Cassandra: The Avvar were true to their word!

Iron Bull: Nice work, Stone-Bear Hold!

Blackwall: Your Avvar friends pulled it off!

Varric: Our Avvar friends came through!

Svarah Sun-Hair: We have your back, Inquisitor! Fight well!

Part 3: Find Inquisitor Ameridan’s resting place.

(Walk towards the Tevinter ruin.)

Party comments:

Cassandra: No sign of the dragon. It must be in there.

Cole: She doesn't want to be him. He doesn't want to be chained. Tied together, wracked and raging.

Solas: The ritual must be underway. There is a great deal of magical energy coming from the bottom of the crater.

(There are ice wards in the field between the gate and the main building. If destroyed, they freeze everyone in the vicinity.)

Party comments:

Dorian: Watch the wards! We can't afford to be slowed down!

Vivienne: Watch out for the ice wards! We cannot let them slow us!

Sera: Pissing freezing magic!

Solas: Beware the wards! They will sap your strength!

(An ice ward is destroyed.)

Party comments:

Cassandra: The ward is destroyed!

Iron Bull: How do you like that, frosty?

Blackwall: That should end the wards!

Cole: You can't freeze us!

(Enter the Old Temple. The interior is covered in frost.)

Party comments:

Vivienne: This frost is magical in nature. If we do not make haste, we will freeze to death.

Cassandra: This cold is magical in origin. It will kill us if we do not hurry.

Sera: We stay here, our bits will snap off. Get moving.

Solas: The cold is magical. It will kill us if we do not hurry.

Cole: This isn't real, but it still hurts. We have to be fast.

Dorian: Even colder than usual. This is magical. We need to keep moving.

Varric: This isn't natural. We'd better hurry, unless you like freezing to death.

(Stay by the fire to warm up.)

Party comments:

Sera: Better, right? Might even keep our toes.

Iron Bull: (Grunts.) Cold's not so bad here.

Varric: The cold isn't so bad here.

Cole: Yes. False cold, but the real fire keeps it away.

(Gurd Harofsen begins the ritual.)

Party comments:

Varric: We should probably hurry. There's no good kind of crazy ritual chanting.

Vivienne: They are performing the ritual. I suggest we hurry.

Solas: We must hurry. The ritual to free the spirit of Hakkon is underway.

Dorian: Sounds like they've already started the ritual. Best hurry, then.

(Gurd chants the Song of savage Hakkon.)

Sing the song of savage Hakkon, born in battle, bloody bladed.

Wintersbreath to wrack the lowlands, cold to cut and kill the hated.

Meet the might of Mountain-Father, crush the creed of Korth the callow.

Leave the Lady lost and lonely, scour the skies of spirits sallow!

Gurd Harofsen, called the Cutter, wyvern-slayer, lowland-bane

Begs of Hakkon, bring his body bloody blessings, cold and pain!

(The chant ends.)

Party comments:

Vivienne: The barbarian is allowing himself to be possessed by Hakkon!

Solas: The Hakkonite leader is calling the spirit of Hakkon into his own body!

Varric: Harofsen's summoning Hakkon into himself!

Dorian: He's summoning Hakkon into his own body!

Cassandra: Is he insane?

Iron Bull: Who does that? That's a terrible idea!

Blackwall: He's mad!

Sera: Don't care. Stupid gets arrows.

(A dragon can be seen in the distance.)

Party comments:

Sera: There's the dragon! It's... frozen or something?

Cole: The dragon. She's stuck, still, a statue. Hakkon is angry inside her.

Varric: There's the Hakkon dragon! At least it's not moving yet.

Iron Bull: There's the dragon! Long as it holds still like that, we should be all right.

(The fight begins. Gurd continues the ritual while being protected by Hakkonites.)

Party comments:

Vivienne: Hakkon is invulnerable until we disrupt those around him!

Solas: We cannot harm Hakkon until the ritual is disrupted!

Cassandra: We must disrupt the ritual first! Then Hakkon can be harmed!

Dorian: We have to take out the others! We can't hurt Hakkon until they're out!

(Gurd summons the spirit of Hakkon into himself and transforms into a revenant.)

Gurd: Face me and die, Inquisitor! Your predecessor could not stand against me. You shall fall as well! I am the cold bite of winter! I am Hakkon reborn! Death to the lowlanders!

(The revenant casts powerful ice spells.)

Party comments:

Sera: Ranged, right? Too cold up close!

Cassandra: The cold is worse near the creature!

Blackwall: The cold gets worse the closer you are!

Iron Bull: Careful! Cold's worse up close!

(During the fight, the revenant freezes the braziers as he loses health.)

Party comments:

Vivienne: He's putting out the fires!

Varric: Watch yourself! He's putting out the fires!

Dorian: The damn thing's dousing the fires!

Solas: Be careful! He's dousing the fires!

(Next quest - Ameridan's End: Talk to Ameridan)

[tyrantlavellan]

A little Drabble I made for @lindsmorr because I owe her a lot. We miss our disaster sons.

(I know I promised no plot, but I had to think of somethingggggggg 🥺)

The bustling of the infamous Orlais market filled the air. Merchants crowded around the Inquisition company just for a glimpse of the Inquisitor.

Mahanon ignored them, waving his hand to his bodyguards. Inquisition soldiers shoved the crowd aside. He heard Taavi scoff as they made their way through the city, vast buildings with rich architecture and lavish gardens stretched out on either side of them. But Mahanon didn’t pay any attention. His mind was elsewhere.

Divine Victoria was trying everything in her power to lessen his grasp. Trying to change the ways of the Chantry was not going well for her, and with most of her own followers squabbling like over privileged children, she was not getting the support she needed. Her first few months as Divine was not going well. She wished to do what she believed was right, a noble deed Mahanon had to admit.

One that he was inclined to prevent from happening.

What she didn’t know was that he was the reason she was elected the new Divine in the first place. She would have lost her nomination to Leliana, had Mahanon not intervened. He gave himself a pat on the back for that one. The Chantry would have been a chaotic mess if Leliana was chosen.

He encouraged Cassandra to reinstate the Seekers to ensure the circle remained intact and well guarded. He definitely wasn’t taking any chances with the mages. He had seen the catastrophic damage they were capable of too many times.

The Divine might have successfully stripped him of his influence, were it not for the support of the Emperor, forever indebted to Mahanon for replacing Celene, and the majority of the noble houses supporting his title as Herald of Andraste. Mahanon smiled smugly to himself.

“This place reeks of dirty money, selling stuff that is not even worth half their price,” Taavi interrupted. A disgusted look wrinkled his face. “It’s like they dip their shit in gold and call it a fashion statement.”

Mahanon chuckled.

“This is Orlais, anything can be fashion if you’re rich enough, and have a lot of influence.”

“Whole place is a nightmare…” Taavi said, narrowly avoiding a group of chevaliers standing in the middle of the street. “The size of their egos definitely makes up for their lack of size down -”

Trumpets blasted cutting him off.

They made their way into the courtyard of the Chantry, where Divine Victoria awaited them atop a giant flight of stairs. Her rigid expression could make anyone tremble, but Mahanon knew better.

A crowd of Orlesians had amassed behind them and they cheered, singing chantry songs and praising the Herald of Andraste. Mahanon couldn’t help but smirk.

“Stop doing that,” Taavi smacked him.

“Ow! What was that for?” Mahanon shoved him back.

“You look like an idiot, smiling and waving to the crowd like you're some sort of idol.”

“In case you forgot, I did save the world from certain doom. And this is how they like to thank me,” Mahanon said, waving back at the crowd again.

“Oh that’s right. My bad, your highness,” Taavi mocked.

“Well now it’s sounds cringe when you say it,”

“Why did they have to build so many steps? And why is she so cross looking? What did you do to make her upset, we just got here,” Taavi grabbed onto Mahanon’s arm instinctively as they walked past the Seekers. He eyed them suspiciously.

“She is still upset about that whole Empris du Lion situation. Apparently the Chantry doesn’t condone blowing up Chevalier estates, despite blood mage cultists squatting inside,”

“That doesn’t seem very - ”

“I also may have slept with her a bunch and maybe kind of lied about a lot of things to convince her to become the Divine,” Mahanon said quietly, biting his lip.

“Oh, so now that makes more sense. Wait you slept with the Div - ”

“Welcome Inquisitor!” A clergyman yelled so the crowd could hear. “Our beloved Herald of Andraste has descended from his throne to grace us with his presence, may the Maker bless him always and continue to shine his light on all his children!”

The crowd cheered loudly. Mahanon waved, avoiding Taavi’s intensely disapproving gaze.

“Again with the waving, you look like a fool.”

“Why can’t you just have fun with me and let these peasants worship me,” Mahanon said, now blowing kisses to the courtiers.

“You are insufferable.” Taavi sneered under his breath.

“Enough with the attention seeking,” the Divine suddenly cut in, standing right beside them, arms crossed, still unimpressed. “Inside. Now.” She snapped, swiftly walking inside the giant looming doors of the cathedral.

“She seems nice,” said Taavi.

“Just let me do the talking,” Mahanon whispered back. “You just keep your eyes out for anything suspicious.”

Taavi rolled his eyes, but followed Mahanon inside the lavish building.

The Chantry spared no expense in their decorations. Images of Andraste, the Maker, and any other revered patron were scattered on every surface possible. Even the door handles had depictions of Andraste and her followers. The clergyman and the chantry sisters walked around, muttering chants and bowing as they passed.

Mahanon tried not to laugh at Taavi’s horrified expression.

“If I hear someone call me ‘your grace’ one more time…” Taavi hissed.

They entered the Divine’s council chamber. Every seemingly important person in Orlais was already waiting for them.

Josephine had arrived days before them, in an attempt to smooth things over with the council beforehand. She glared at them as they walked in.

“Sorry I’m late,” Mahanon called out, making sure the entirety of the room could hear. “I got lost in this giant labyrinth, so many unnecessary buildings.”

Josie stood in bewilderment as he stopped next to her.

“Inquisitor, glad you could finally make it,” she hissed through her teeth as she forced a smile.

“Glad to be here too, dear Josephine. I’m sure you entertained these people just fine. It is your job after all.” Mahanon said as he patted her head. She stiffened and took a very deep breath and muttered something in Antivan.

“I see things haven’t changed much.” Divine Victoria said, glaring in Mahanon’s direction as she took her seat.

“Hello, Cassandra,” Mahanon smiled at her. She gritted her teeth in disgust.

“She shall be addressed as Divine Victoria, Your Holiness, Most Holy, or the Holy Mother!” a Cleric snapped.

“My apologies,” Mahanon said, bowing out of mockery. “The name hasn’t really stuck so well. She wasn’t quite so ‘holy’ from what I remember.”

“You little -”

“Enough,” the Divine, raised her hand to silence them. “This is getting us nowhere.” She straightened her shoulders, making sure to appear taller, her outrageous hat towering above everyone.

“Inquisitor, despite your blatant lack of respect, we have called you here in an attempt to salvage the relationship between the Inquisition and the Chantry. There have been far too many disputes, and it is in your best interest to help us remain united.”

“I’m not quite sure I follow, Most Holy of Holiness.” He sneered, crossing his arms dramatically. “Last I looked, the Inquisition was doing very well working with the Chantry.”

“What he means to say, Your Excellence,” Josie cut in. “The Inquisition has been successful to maintain and utilize resources graciously donated by the Chantry, in the name of the Maker, of course.”

“I am aware, Ambassador.” Victoria said, nodding in her direction. “The Inquisition has been quick to dive into the Chantry vaults. But I disagree. Your Herald of Andraste has done terrible things, to both friends and enemies of the Inquisition. I cannot pretend you have the Chantry’s interests at heart when he seems to only take what he pleases.

“But what the Inquisitor fails to realize is, the title ‘Herald of Andraste’ can only go so far. Should the Chantry denounce the title of Herald, the Inquisition would not be entitled to anything regarding the Chantry.”

Mahanon snorted loudly.

“Let me see if I remember this correctly,” Mahanon said, clearing his throat. “But was it not one ‘Cassandra Pentaghast’ that insisted on defying Chantry order and encouraged the Inquisition’s inception in the first place?”

“The Chantry was leaderless,” she snapped, hands clenched into tight fists, making her knuckles white. “You cannot compare what happened then to this current situation.

“The Inquisition has done what it was meant to do, which was to stop the immediate threat of Corypheus. You have already done so. In continuing to expand the Inquisition and gain military prowess, you are going against everything that Andraste stood for.”

“So what would you consider the Templars and the Seekers, if not a military extension of the Chantry?” Mahanon argued. “The Inquisition is just more independent with how we function.”

“Not exactly true,” the Divine said coldly, challenging him. “The templars have one purpose, and that is to protect the Circle from threats both inside and out. The Seekers ensure the templars don’t fall out of line.

“The Inquisition has done neither of those things. And as of late it’s hard to say exactly what the purpose of the Inquisition is in its current state.”

Murmurs from the council members crept around the room. Mahanon could feel his face getting hot. But he still had some leverage.

“Perhaps we should ask our beloved Emperor Gaspard,” Mahanon said calmly. Gaspard squirmed in his seat as all eyes fell on him. “I’m sure he would have single handedly kept the country from being torn apart by the Civil War after Celene’s tragic death,” Mahanon eyed Gaspard. He could see the sweat dripping down his face even from where he stood.

“ And Ser Chaplain,” he continued, now staring at a retired Chevalier, one of his most generous donors. “His company would have totally been able to keep mercenaries and Venatori from overtaking his very financially successful mining operations in the Frostbacks.”

The Orlesian noble cleared his throat nervously.

“And of course,” Mahanon continued. “The general population of Thedas would definitely agree with denouncing the very force that saved them from the very demons of the Fade and the remains of the giant tear in the sky that would have ripped the world to pieces.” Mahanon stared the Divine in the eye.

“Because of course every single threat to Thedas died with Corypheus, and no city ever had to be rebuilt, no village ever faced a food shortage or threats from thieves or natural disasters.”

Nobody said a word.

“But I suppose the Inquisition doesn’t do any of those things either.” Mahanon looked across the room as the council whispered to each other.

The look on the Divine’s face was a mix of pure anger and defeat. Mahanon just smiled smugly. The council continued to whisper for several minutes.

“I feel like the council may lean in our favour,” Josie whispered.

“The Emperor and his bureaucrats owe us too much to not come to our defence.” Mahanon replied. “If the Divine thinks that her way is the only way, she’s going to be very disappointed.”

Finally the Divine raised her hand and the whispering cut off.

“We are calling a recess. We will return in an hour,” she said abruptly. Then she left the room just as quickly.

“Well then,” Josie sighed. “Time for some sightseeing?”

Mahanon turned to leave, but stopped short. Taavi was missing. He immediately became alert. He briskly walked out into the grand hallway, shoving a chantry brother out of the way. He could feel panic rising.

He opened doors, intent on searching the entire building until he heard laughing from a shadowy corner.

“You should see your face just now,” Taavi laughed as he casually walked out of his hiding spot. “Concern is such a cute look for you.”

Mahanon’s face went red. He crossed his arms as Taavi tried to pull him close.

“Whatever,” he scoffed, pushing Taavi away. “I didn’t think you’d ditch me like that.”

“I don’t consider the squabbles of the Chantry to be important, actually,” Taavi retorted. “But what I do find mildly entertaining,” he continued, slowly walking towards Mahanon with a sly look on his face. “Is you, pretending like you don’t care about me, when it’s very much obvious that you do,” Taavi lightly pushed Mahanon against the wall behind him. His towering frame kept him from going anywhere.

“Really, Taavi?” Mahanon said, looking around at the busy traffic going to and fro around the cathedral. “Right now doesn’t seem to be the best time or place for this,”

“Since when do you care about the when and where?” Taavi laughed. He gently turned Mahanon’s head to expose his neck, and kissed him softly, breathing heavily in his ear.

Mahanon felt his body get hot, and closed his eyes as Taavi gently grazed his ear with his teeth.

“I just…don’t…” Mahanon forgot what he was trying to say. “We are in a hallway….”

“You didn’t think I planned ahead? Where did you think I went off to?”

Suddenly Taavi lifted him up, wrapping Mahanon’s legs around his waist, their faces inches away from each other.

“I have you right where I wanted you,” Taavi said with a smirk as he kicked the door they were leaning against open.

He carried Mahanon into a small chapel, only furnished with a few wooden benches and a small altar table. He kicked the door shut behind them.

“Of all the rooms you could have chosen, you picked a closet?” Mahanon scoffed.

“I think it’s some sort of servants’ chapel, actually. Guess the rich don’t like mingling with commoners when it comes to chantry shit,” Taavi plopped Mahanon onto the tiny altar, knocking over Andraste paraphernalia, shattering them on the floor.

“And besides,” he continued. “Most of the servants are busy catering to all the snobby guests, don’t have time to come pray, or whatever they do in here.”

Taavi started kissing and sucking on Mahanon’s neck again, making sure to press their bodies together.

“You know,” Mahanon said quietly, now completely helpless as he could feel Taavis hands slowly unfastening his belt, lingering a bit before disappearing underneath the fabric. “They’re not going to be too pleased if I’m late again.” He bit his lip, trying to hold back a moan.

“Well I guess I better hurry then,” Taavi smirked, working his way down, throwing his own pants behind him.

Mahanon didn’t have time to object before Taavi pushed him onto his back, climbing on top of him. Taavi clasped his hand over Mahanon’s mouth, muffling the sound of him moaning in pleasure as Taavi fucked him.

Whether it was the sacrilegious nature of being absolutely pounded on top a sacred altar, or Taavi wrapping his fingers around Mahanon’s neck as his breath came out in ragged gasps, or more likely the combination of both those things, it did not take long for Taavi to make Mahanon finish.

Taavi squeezed his hand around Mahanon’s delicate neck as he trembled with pleasure, leaving a mess all over his own hands. A few more thrusts and Taavi joined him. Both now breathing heavy, they let the last of the pleasure flow through them. Eyes closed, they lay in silence, both smiling.

“You’re getting too good at that,” Mahanon chuckled, stroking Taavi’s hair.

“What can I say, I’m a natural,” Taavi replied, taking Mahanon’s hand and kissing it gently.

Mahanon sighed, looking around the tiny space. He didn’t think they’d make such a mess in their brief moment, but he laughed as Taavi fished their pants from the other side of the room.

“Better get going, before Divine Victoria decides to go searching for us herself,” Mahanon grumbled, trying to clasp his belt properly. Taavi shook his head.

“I’m getting a headache just thinking about going back to that council disaster,” Taavi rubbed his temples dramatically. “I’m gonna go outside for some fresh air.”

Mahanon just rolled his eyes.

“You’re going to miss all the fun,” he replied. “But if you insist. Perhaps we can go for round two later,” he placed a kiss on Taavis lips.

“Perhaps…” Taavi said quietly. “If you don’t take forever…”

“I’ll show you what I can do later, I just need silk, some candles, and a couple of apples”

“What are the apples for?” Taavi asked, confused.

“Guess you’ll have to find out,” Mahanon teased, pushing the door open and disappearing down the hall with a bit of a spring in his step.

[annamiasworld]

Luminescence - A High School AU - Chapter 1 [Tangled the Series]

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Note: This is my first multichapter after probably 4 years and I’m, as always, happy for any kind of feedback. Enjoy!

Warnings: None

Word Count: 2k

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“Are you serious??”

I stood in the middle of the kitchen with my mouth wide opened as I let my father’s words sink in. I thought that this morning would be a usual one, including waking and making up, having breakfast with my dad and talking about events that had to be organized. In the end he would suggest to drive me to school and, like every morning, I would decline, telling him that walking there would do me good.

It’s not that I would have been embarrassed if my dad drove me, but with him being the principle of my High School, the Corona High, I didn’t want to create any false impressions. I knew there were people talking about our relation and how he would favour me. Then again, I heard rumours about us not getting along at all. None of them were true, but most of the students cared more about other personal lives than their own, so I’d surely relinquish giving them a reason to think of even more silly theories.

Also, I did not lie when I said that taking a walk does me good. Being outside, especially early in the morning hours when everyone else is asleep, was one of my favourite things to do. That’s when I could just let all of my thoughts go and concentrate only on myself and my surrounding, without pondering about meeting anyone’s standards. Not my dad’s, not my fellows and especially not my own.

I should be less dramatic probably but growing up alone with a busy father sometimes wasn’t easy. Ever since I could remember he told me to work hard to earn respect, and I lived by these words as if they were my holy book, like the Bible, Tora or Koran, but to me, they meant much more. It was like a surviving strategy. One, which always worked. Work hard, earn respect and the world lies at your feet. Yet, what my dad didn’t know was that the only person I ever wanted to earn respect from was him.

We did have a healthy daughter-father relationship, nevertheless I felt like it was hard for him to accept that this daughter wasn’t the four feet tall girl anymore who used to turn cartwheels on the streets. It’s not that he ever showed too much affection since he is a very serious guy but one thing he simply couldn’t abandon were his permanent concerning’s for me. I never figured out where they came from since he would never say a word about it, so I simply stopped asking and bothering him in hopes that he would forget his worries when I wouldn’t speak about them anymore. I guessed it’s basically a parent-thing which he couldn’t turn off.

However, this was definitely not a usual morning. Well, actually it was, aside from the unexpected news my dad brought me.

“I also don’t understand how a person can be that irresponsible! Breaking the glass of my office door at his first day after summer break… How did he even manage to-“

“That’s absolutely not what I meant, dad!” I interrupted my father, “Why, of all punishments you could have given him, does it have to be helping out in the library? You know that I volunteered to do that! And you also know that I can’t possibly work with him, since all he ever does is-“

“Bragging. I know.”

“And I can’t concentrate when he is getting on my nerves like that!”

“Listen” My dad said calmly while I took a deep breath, “I know how much Fitzherbert is annoying you, but I have to make sure that he’s doing his task, so I need you to keep an eye on him. I trust you.”

Suddenly I felt very awkward for snapping at my father just a moment ago. “Fine…” I finally said quietly.

“Do you want me to-“ My dad begun but I already knew what he was going to ask me.

“I’m perfectly fine with walking to school, dad” I smiled.

It was a usual morning after all.

Grabbing my schoolbag from the floor, I swung it over my shoulder. Already halfway through the door I additionally snatched my keys. Fresh air awaited me. A breeze brushed some hair out of my face to let the sunlight warm my visage. Taking big steps I chose the route alongside the forest since I wouldn’t meet anyone that way.

I was not exactly avoiding crowds but especially in the morning I liked to be alone. That was another reason why I didn’t took the ride with my dad. He would talk about his duties and ideas all the time so that it would be rude if I would not pay attention, but in the early hours I simply wasn’t capable of that. Talking all of these things over during breakfast was already nearly too much for my overwhelmed self. I much rather liked to unwind before having to face the day.

I connected my earphones and chose my usual playlist to which I used to listen on repeat. The amount of songs on it could be counted on the fingers of one hand. The wind blew stronger so I pulled my thin jacket closer. Maybe I should have taken a warmer one. I walked quicker. There was no need to rush at all, if anything I would be under the first students to arrive at school.

Soon I spotted my dad’s car at its reserved space on the parking lot. Passing a few schoolmates, I gave them a nod before joining the people from today’s first course. That was what I’d usually do. I got along with nearly everybody quite well but I wouldn’t consider me really close with anyone. Keeping a little distance between me and the others was some kind of protective reflex that was hard to turn off. Maybe I took things too serious but I consoled myself with the thought that I was here to perform well and not to get emotionally attached.

The bell interrupted my thoughts.

“Let’s put our heads into the lion’s mouth, seniors!” A guy next to me laughed.

What an optimistic way to start the day.

***

I opened my locker to take out my books for the next lesson, which was history. Trying to suppress the thought of spending my afternoon with Fitzherbert, I set off to the classroom. Out of nowhere, a petite girl with long blond hair bumped into me. But before I could say a word or even react, she began jabbering.

“Oh gosh oh no oh no oh no I’m so sorry I didn’t mean to- oh no wait are you okay please tell me that you are okay I have to watch out I know and I’m so sorry seriously I don’t know how-“

“Hey!” I said a bit harsher than intended. I cleared my throat before I continued, trying to reassure the squeaky girl. “Everything is fine, nothing happened.”

“Right” She nodded certainly. Then she started to pick up her books which she dropped at our collision, so I kneeled down to help her.

“I’m really sorry. You know, I just moved to this town and this is my second day here. This school is so much bigger than my previous one and I feel very lost. I was searching for room number 344. Could you perhaps tell me in which direction I have to go?”

“Room 344? That’s Mr. Smith’s history course. I’m heading there too.” I responded as I handed her the last book.

It had opened when it fell to the floor, so it revealed a beautiful drawing of a landscape. “Is that your drawing? It’s really detailed, I like it a lot!” The girl took her book with a wide smile.

“Yes, I drew it yesterday. I saw that stunning sunset in the park so I immediately had to capture that. I’m glad you like it!”

Her smile quickly turned into a shocked expression “Oh no! I’m so sorry, I forgot to introduce myself! My name is Rapunzel, but you can call me Raps!” “I’m Cassandra” I answered smiling back at her.

“Cassandra, as in Cassandra Wainhouse? Do you know her? She’s an amazing artist, I’m a huge fan of-“

Rapunzel began jabbering again while we went to class. Her chequered skirt swung as she walked through the corridors light-footed and gestured with her arms. She started talking about art and her other interests, as if we’ve known each other forever and not just for less than ten minutes. How could a person be that extroverted? My thoughts drifted off. Not because I didn’t want to listen to Rapunzel anymore but cos I wasn’t sure what to think of the lively, talkative female next to me. She didn’t even gave me time for answering or contribute my share to the conversation and I for my part didn’t want to interrupt her happy chatting, so I simply kept examining her.

In class she was the one asking most of the questions when Mr. Smith was talking about the great civil war. It felt more like she was having a nice chat with the teacher than really being his student, yet she wasn’t annoying or crawling. I’ve never met someone so interesting. Rapunzel had some kind of… aura which just made her likable. I was unable to tell what it was exactly but I couldn’t deny that she was nice.

Later, when we made our way to the lockers, we had compared our timetables and found out that we also had Literature, Biology, French and Physical Education together. “That’s quite a lot” I said while I rummaged in my locker again, but when I closed it I nearly fell backwards.

Eugene Fitzherbert was leaning at the locker next to mine and wiggled his eyebrows as soon as he saw that I noticed him. His brown hair was combed backwards but a few untamed streaks were covering his eyes partly. With a smooth movement he stood up and took a step towards me and Rapunzel who he apparently hadn’t seen yet.

“Hey there watchdog, will you escort me to the library now?” He asked me cheeky. I rolled my eyes, trying to stay calm which was very difficult since I got the abnormal urge to slap him every time I saw his face.

“Believe me, looking after you is the last thing I want to do this afternoon.” I hissed back. Eugene jerked slightly, but Rapunzel saved him unknowingly with hooking up into the conversation.

“Heyyy, I’m Rapunzel by the way. It’s nice to meet you! Who are you? A friend of Cass?” Eugene’s expression was blank for a moment but then he burst out laughing.

“A… a friend of…” He shook with laughter “A friend of… the ice queen? You’re really funny blondie!” I exhaled loudly. Rapunzel side eyed me with a confused expression. “Did I say something wrong?” She whispered obviously clueless.

“No, Fitzherbert here is just slightly amused of being considered my friend.” I said coldly, watching him with my arms crossed while he wiped little tears of laughter out of his eyes.

“Listen, Blondie” Eugene started “The only thing that connects me and Dragon Lady here…” He put a hand on my shoulder which I shook off immediately, “…is, that she has to guard me during my detention. Order of her beloved father.”

“Don’t you dare-“ I knew he only wanted to tease me, as always, but it was still hard to control myself.

“Your father?” Rapunzel asked uncertain.

“Oh no- Please don’t tell me that you haven’t talked to her about it. Cassandras father is the principle of this school, dear.” Eugene thought that he had exposed me in front of Raps now, but he assessed the blonde wrong.

“He is… What? No way! Cass why haven’t you told me?? That’s so cool!” Rapunzel squeaked with joy like she had done it the whole day when she found out something exiting. Eugene’s confident face turned into a slightly puzzled one. I tried to hide my amusement.

“Well, you heard Fitzherbjerk, Raps. I’ll have to guard him during his detention.” Rapunzel chuckled. “See you later!” She called after me. I smiled over my shoulder and then turned to my companion again.

“When did you learn to smile, Cass?” Eugene smirked. I sighed.

This would be a long afternoon.

[buns-with-a-book]

Beginner's Luck

Teeechnically a Bayonetta/DMC crossover, only because it’s based on concept art from Bayonetta of Enzo and Dante gambling...and Dante losing because of his bad luck. And a little bit of his Diesel costume from DMC2 (which actually isn’t that bad?)

Fandoms: Bayonetta, DMC Characters: OC (DMC), Rodin (Bayonetta), Enzo (Bayonetta) Tags: @furyeclipse @synchronmurmurs @harlot-of-oblivion @queenmuzz 

Summary: Cassandra takes up poker against an old friend of Dante’s to retake the hunter’s beloved guns: Ebony and Ivory. Of course, grabbing that signature red coat was a plus. 

Cassandra hummed as she walked down the grimy streets, bobbing her head to a song only in her head. Despite her chipper attitude, she had a place to be: a bar that Dante visited and came out with nothing. Literally, given his change of clothes from the iconic red to muted green. It didn’t look good, hence why she was walking down the street, finding the very bar he had been in the night before: The Gates of Hell.  

Cassandra really had only one concern: Did he have to head to the nastiest place in the city? The Dump was a perfectly appropriate name for this shithole corner of the city. Not even Morrison, as far as she knew, came to this stretch of the city.

But here she was, walking through the darkness like a lonely star in an abyss-black sky. She stood out of place, that she knew well enough, but ignored it to focus on where she was going. She could fend for herself, she wasn’t exactly unarmed despite all appearances.

She pulled out a flyer, a garish purple scrap of paper, and glanced at the building to her left. Just like it said, the Gates of Hell was here. She shoved the paper back into her bag, the bag being full of hard-earned cash to gamble with. If Dante had gambled away his prized guns, then she’d have to gamble it back (and have enough to pay for their tab, depending on how much of a drinker this mysterious man was).

Did it make her a target? Yes. Yes it did.

Was it worth it to make Dante happy? Yes. Yes it was.

With a soft sigh, she opened the door. Much to her surprise, it was empty. The only music in the bar was from the gramophone, the worn record playing a jazz piece that sounded like it'd come from a film noir. Her green eyes glanced around the empty establishment before she walked over to the bar, eyes focused on the black bartender.

“Hm.” The bartender hummed. She could feel his eyes focused on her, analyzing her every movement. It was almost supernatural...but she ignored that gut feeling for now. “Haven’t seen you ‘round here before, lightspark.” She squinted at the name, something that only Dante called her.

“I’m looking for a man. He was here last night gambling with my...employer, Dante.” She said. “Perhaps you know him?” The bartender was silent for a moment, mulling over her inquiry as he lazily cleaned a glass.

“What’s it to you?” He asked.

“...because that idiot gambled something precious to him and I’m here to gamble it back.”

“Sounds risky.” The bartender hummed. Cassandra shrugged.

“Perhaps. But I guess I’m feeling lucky tonight.” She said, tilting her head just a little. The bartender smirked.

“Better keep an eye on your back. Luck doesn’t like being pushed.” Cassandra glanced back behind her before back to the bartender.

“Duly noted-”

“Rodin!” The doors flung open, causing her to wince at the sound. “Fuck me sideways, I’m beat!” She glanced back, watching as a portly Italian waddle to the bar. “Hit me up with a martini!” She looked to the now-named bartender, who subtly nodded to her, before returning his gaze to the portly Italian.

“No can do Enzo. Not until you pay your tab.” Rodin said as he turned around. The Italian, now named Enzo, let out a whine.

“Aw come oooonn! You haven’t yelled at me for it before!” Cassandra slid a hand into her bag and pulled out a crisp $20 bill. Rodin paused as the bill hit the polished counter.

“You payin’ for him?”

“Yep.” Rodin shrugged before finishing the drink, setting it in front of Enzo. Enzo’s eyes widened.

“For me?”

“I mean, I just said I’d pay for you.” Cassandra said with a shrug as Rodin took the bill. “A second martini for me, please. Strawberry flavor.” Enzo laughed as he took a swing of the martini.

“Well, you have my attention. What cha want?”

“Well, you have something I want. Ebony and Ivory.” Enzo’s eyes went wide.

“Ooooh, you want those lovely ladies.” He laughed, walking to an empty table. Cassandra watched the martini rest on the counter before taking it. She took a sip, watching Enzo as Rodin counted out change. “Look, I ain’t gonna give those guns to anyone-”

“Not even back to Dante, where they belong?” She asked.

“You know Dante?” Enzo asked, flopping down in the chair. “How is he?”

“Miserable without his ladies.” She said, taking the change Rodin laid down. She quickly thanked him before walking over to Enzo. “But I get the feeling you won’t let them up without a fight. Or a good ole fashioned game of poker.” She sat down across from him, who had burst out laughing.

“Lemme guess, Dante taught ya! That man has HORRIBLE luck!” He howled. Cassandra rolled her eyes.

“You don’t need luck to explain the rules.” Cassandra pointed out patiently. Enzo set his martini on the table and pulled out a deck of cards.

“Tell ya what, let’s play a quick game and if you win, I’ll give ya the coat.” Enzo set the cards down and took a sip of the martini. “I’ll even go easy on ya for the martini!” He threw out some cards, to which she took with a smirk.

‘You think I’m a push-over?’ She thought as the game began. ‘You’ll find that I’m no pushover.’

“So.” Enzo began. “How long have you known Dante?”

“Oh, about eleven years. He’s like a brother to me.” She replied, occasionally glancing up to him. She noticed she could see his cards in his sunglasses but kept her mouth shut. If he was helping her win, then she would take that as long as she could have that boon.

“Eleven years? Cute. So you ain’t doing this because you wanna fuck him, right?”

“Hardly. I like him but, as I’ve said, he’s a brother to me. And he’s been looking like shit without his coat and his ladies.” She said. “It’s a good thing he’s not going off to do some big job because if he went out without those things, I don’t think anyone would recognize him as Dante. That coat is his brand.”

“It’s also expensive to repair.” Enzo rolled his eyes. “But I’m not dealing with that anymore. That’s someone else’s job.”

“Mine, actually.”

“Ha! I don’t blame you for trying to get the coat back! Replacing that’s expensive!” Enzo said, throwing down his cards. “Alright, let’s see what you got!” Cassandra did the same, looking at his cards. Enzo quietly swore: she had gotten three of a kind. Enzo had gotten two pair. She had won.

“Huh. Guess I won this round.” She said as Enzo took back the cards.

“Ok, that was just a freebie because I wanted to see how good you were.” He clarified, retaking the cards. “I’m gonna be harder on you for the guns. And that means real money!” He opened up his coat and pulled out a wad of cash. “For Ivory, $250 dollars!”

“I can match that.” Cassandra said, mirroring his actions. Enzo grinned wide as he began to deal the cards.

“I like a gal who ain’t afraid to gamble.”

“These are Dante’s ladies, of course I’m gambling for them to come back home.” She pointed out, taking the cards dealt to her. Enzo took a sip of his martini.

“Ah, reminds me of my brats.” Cassandra raised an eyebrow and looked to his fingers, seeing a golden wedding ring on his finger.

“You’re a family man?”

“Yeah, two little monsters of my own. They’re cute as fuck though.” He chuckled fondly at the thought. Cassandra felt a twinge of sadness at that. Despite his profession, it still seemed as if he loved them dearly. It was something she wished her own father had done with her in her adult years.

“Cards?” Enzo’s inquisitive voice roused her from her thoughts. Cassandra laid down her cards, a Flush. Enzo swore under his breath as he laid down the Straight he had accrued. “Beginner’s luck…”

“Well, how about we raise the stakes a little? $500 for Ebony.”

“$700!” Enzo snapped. Cassandra let out a humorous huff.

“A bit of a sore loser, aren’t we?” She teased as she pulled out $1000 and set it on the table. “Let’s make it $1000.”  

“Do play nice with the lady.” Rodin rumbled from behind the bar. Enzo grinned and leaned forward, taking back the cards and reshuffling them.

“You got yourself a game...aw shit, I just realized I didn’t get your name. What kinda player am I?”

“It’s Cassandra.” She pulled back a strand of hair.

“Cassandra...ok, nice to get a name to a face. Dante was talking up a storm about you.” Enzo chuckled. Cassandra raised an eyebrow.

“Has he now?”

“Oh yeah!” Enzo nodded. “Went on and on about this chick that’s been rooming with him. It ain’t the bazooka gal so it’s gotta be you.”

“If he calls me lightspark, then I’m the one.” She hummed, playing a card. Enzo laughed.

“It’s nice to meet ya. I know Dante’s got a new broker now and that means getting you is off the table.” He shrugged. “Oh well. It’s nice to play cards with him-”

“Because you can win.” Cassandra interrupted dryly. Enzo snorted.

“Fuck yeah I can win.” He smirked at that before throwing down his cards. “Four of a kind, haha!” Enzo laughed. Cassandra glanced to the cards, to her hand, and then back to the cards before chuckling, laying them to rest.

“Straight flush. I believe I win.”

“WHAAAAAAAAAT!?” He howled, staring at the cards. “Oh come fucking oonnn!” He whined. Cassandra finished off her martini and set it on the table.

“I won fair and square, Enzo.” She gently pointed out. Enzo groaned before getting up with a grumble.

“Ok ok ok, I’ll go get them.” He waddled out of the bar. Cassandra took her rightfully won cash, frowning.

“I thought I’d gamble away more money.” She said quietly. Rodin merely laughed from behind the bar.

“I never heard someone wishing they were unlucky.”

“It’s not that.” She corrected him. “I didn’t think I’d actually win back the guns.”

“I believe it’s called beginner’s luck.” He said with a shrug as Enzo reentered the bar. In his hands were Dante’s red coat and the handguns of note: Ebony and Ivory. They looked pristine, not a scratch on them since she last saw them. Cassandra swung the red coat over her shoulders.

“Ah, I hate beginner’s luck…” Enzo grumbled as Cassandra made sure the two were empty before placing them in her bag.

“At the very least, I’ll pay for the tab tonight. And only tonight, before you get any ideas.” Cassandra said, walking to the bar. She pulled out five $20 bills and set them on the counter. “Au revoir.”

“Jeez, you better tell Dante he’s lucky to have someone as nice as you!” Enzo yelled as she stepped out of the bar, walking her way down the streets away from the bar and back to Devil May Cry.

One long walk later, Cassandra pushed open the door. While she was heading back home, she picked up a pizza along the way, just for Dante.

“Dante!” She called. “I’m home!”

“I’m awake.” He grumbled. “No need to yell-” He perked up at the box in her hands. “For me?”

“Yeah, you dummy. But don’t get your hands all greasy yet. I got more than pizza for you.” She lowered the pizza on the desk and opened up her bag, producing the handguns and setting them on the table. Dante stared at them, eyes wide before she whipped off his coat and threw it back at him.

“You got them back?”

“Fuck yeah I did. These two.” She pointed to Ebony and Ivory. “Are your ladies. And your ladies should stay in your hands, not in some alcoholic Italian in a grimy fucking bar in The Dump.”

“...thanks.” Dante took the handguns and put them away. “Did you lose anything?”

“Only a hundred and twenty dollars for drinks.” She shrugged. “Mostly to make sure said Italian’s tab was covered for the night.”

“You’re spoiling him.” Dante shrugged, opening the box and taking a slice. “He’ll want to be your broker next.”

“Pfft, nah. I’m taken by Morrison and he knows it.” She sat down on the edge of the desk, setting the bag on the ground. She reached over and took a slice. “You know, you should keep the scarf. It’s not that bad.” She said casually. Dante just shrugged.

“Thanks for...everything, by the way.”

“You’re welcome, Dante.”

[pikapeppa]

Fenris/f!Hawke and the Inquisition: Promise Me (Reprise)

Chapter 64 of Lovers In A Dangerous Time (i.e. Fenris the Inquisitor) is up on AO3. 

In which the crew head to the Darvaraad and beyond. Also known as the most epic and heart-pounding scramble in any game I’ve ever played, which I love/hate with every fiber of my heart. 

I made a Spotify playlist for this chapter for those who like listening to music while they read; all songs from the Trespasser OST. 

~9500 words; only an excerpt here. Read the whole chapter on AO3.  

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

Sera grimaced as she stepped through the eluvian. “Feels fuzzy here. That’s weird. Trees are nice, though.”

Toby whined and tucked his tail between his legs, and Cassandra frowned at Sera. “It certainly does not feel fuzzy here. It feels very strange. Why is it difficult to breathe? And are you talking about those dead trees?”

Sera’s eyebrows shot up. “Dead? They’re not dead! Covered in pretty blooms, more like.” She gave Cassandra a sympathetic look. “I think your hat’s making your brain a bit wibbly.”

Hawke looked up from where she was rubbing Toby’s jowls. “I’m sorry to break this to you, Sera, but only you and Fenris can see those flowers.”

“What!” Sera exclaimed. “Don’t be stupid.”

“It’s true,” Rainier told her. “Only elves can see the flowers on those trees.”

Sera’s face went blank. Then she trotted up to Fenris and tugged his sleeve. “I don’t like it here.”

“Nor do I,” he agreed. “We will be out soon.” He led them to the darkened eluvian and looked at Dorian. “You have the keystone?”

“One shiny magic-soaked gem at your service,” Dorian said. He pulled the cloth-covered keystone from his pocket and turned to Bull. “Amatus, do you want to do the honours?”

Bull shrugged. “Sure, why not.” He waited until Dorian touched the keystone to the mirror, then spoke in Qunlat: “Maraas nehraa.”

The eluvian’s surface lit up with a mercurial swirl of purples and pinks and blues. Fenris took a step toward it, but Bull held up a hand. “I’ll go first, boss. If anyone’s guarding the other side, another horned guy coming through will give them pause for a second.”

“Good thinking,” Fenris said. He gestured to the eluvian. “Go on; we will follow.”

Bull disappeared through the eluvian. Fenris followed a moment later to find Bull already embroiled in a battle with three qunari. 

Fenris lit his lyrium marks, then phased behind the nearest javelineer and tore out her heart. Four more qunari were running over to engage, but the rest of Fenris’s companions were stepping through the eluvian one by one, and within a couple of minutes, the qunari were dead and bleeding on the ground.

And Fenris’s hand was frothing with unstable magic. 

“Get back,” he barked at his companions. He took three hasty steps away from them and shoved his focus through the flickering mark.

It exploded with a sickening flare of light. A wave of pain tore its way up to his shoulder, but the pain was blessedly brief before settling back into its usual low-level burn. 

He sighed and flexed his green-stained fingers before looking up. Dorian, Varric, Bull and Rainier simply looked resigned, but Cassandra and Sera looked horrified. 

“Maker,” Cassandra breathed. “Is that what has been happening–?”

Hawke pushed past them and strode over to Fenris. “Come on, let’s go, no time to waste,” she sing-songed. “Qunari to tear apart, Viddasalas to punch in the face – we’ve got a very packed schedule ahead.” She looped her hand through Fenris’s elbow and pulled him toward a long stone bridge that led to the main fortress of the Darvaarad.

“Hang on a minute,” Dorian said as he trotted along beside them. “Why didn’t you want us near the mark when you set it off? Is it not casting barriers anymore?”

“It was casting barriers?” Cassandra said in surprise. 

“For a time, yes,” Fenris said. “But I’m not convinced it will do that anymore. It feels volatile – more so than a few hours ago.” He gave Dorian a frank look. “I’m afraid it will injure you rather than protecting you.”

“Kaffas,” Dorian said glumly. “Just tell us when to duck, then.”

They scurried along the length of the bridge, and Fenris quickly scoped out their surroundings as best he could despite the darkness of night. The fortress ahead was tall and imposing, with a guardhouse in front and a tall stone tower to the left. A few large stone sculptures of qunari warriors decorated the otherwise austere surroundings, and as they neared the end of the bridge, Fenris silently counted the guards that he could see.

Rainier and Bull had apparently been doing the same; as they all hunkered down in the shelter of the bridge’s stone wall, Rainier murmured to them. “Three guards at the stone tower, and I think I spotted one in the guardhouse.” 

“Two in the guardhouse,” Bull corrected. “And four more by the entrance to the keep, so that’s nine in total. We should take them out one at a time, fast, or we’ll have a mess on our hands.” 

“Why one a time?” Hawke asked. “Let’s just plow right in and get this done. I don’t know about the rest of you, but I don’t mind a little mess.” 

Despite her lighthearted words, her fingers were tapping on her knees, and Fenris knew why she was impatient; she wanted to push forward in the hopes that Solas or Fen’Harel or whoever it was would remove his disintegrating mark. 

He lowered his voice. “We can’t risk attracting unwanted attention. We have no way of knowing how many qunari are inside.”

She rolled her eyes. “Fine, fine. Sneaking it is. Who do you want where?”

Fenris looked at his companions. “Bull, Cole, Varric and Sera: you go ahead and take out as many as you can. Cassandra and I will assist if they detect you.” He looked at Hawke and Dorian. “Barriers only for now. No offensive magic unless there’s no other way. It will be too obvious.” He scratched Toby’s ears. “You stay here with me, my friend,” he murmured. “A mabari will be far too noticeable.”  

Toby wagged his tail as the others moved into their positions. Bull and the rogues spread out while Cassandra, Fenris, Hawke and Dorian hid by some bushes near the guardhouse. Fortunately – and somewhat to Fenris’s surprise – the plan worked out perfectly: they took down all nine guards without raising an alarm. 

They reconvened at the main doors to the keep. Varric was the last to join them as he returned from the tower; he was holding a letter in his hand, and his face was surprisingly grim. 

He handed the letter to Bull. “Probably something important in here,” he said. “I found it next to some red lyrium.”

“Red lyrium?” Hawke exclaimed. “How the fuck did the qunari get their hands on red lyrium?”

Bull sighed. “Could have been from a smuggling operation. Contraband Venatori stock that the Viddasala kept for her own purposes.”

Dorian folded his arms. “So we’re not just expecting a lyrium-powered saarebas, but a red-lyrium-powered saarebas? Well, that’s wonderful news.” He raised an eyebrow at Fenris. “I do so love coming on these journeys with you. They do so much to restore my health and my sense of wellbeing.”

“I’m pleased to be of help,” Fenris said dryly. He raised his eyebrows expectantly at Bull, who was frowning as he read the letter. “What’s wrong? What does the letter say?”

Bull scratched his ear. “It’s from a saarebas to a viddathari who was having trouble getting used to the Qun. But…” He shook his head. “I don’t know magic, but this saarebas sounds like a red Templar at the end. Stuff about ‘the song liquid’... ‘it will be hard to find the wisdom in the noise. The noise is an illusion like the darkness, but the walls are real.’”

Cassandra frowned. “He was driven mad, then. A dangerous mage powered by red lyrium.”

Rainier shrugged philosophically. “At least we know ahead of time so we can prepare ourselves.” 

This was little comfort to Fenris. Fighting a foe amplified by red lyrium usually meant Hawke using her light-cage to trap them while Fenris weakened them with sympathetic magic from his lyrium marks, but Fenris didn’t want her using her light-cage spell. Furthermore, they had never fought a mage powered with red lyrium before. Red lyrium warriors were one thing; a red lyrium mage, on the other hand… They had never fought a red lyrium mage before.

He took a deep breath to quash his anxiety and ushered his companions into hiding on each side of the double doors into the keep. Bull pushed open one door and stepped inside, and a couple of minutes later, he poked his head out again. 

“Clear for this first corridor,” he said. “But I hear some kind of mechanical clanking further in. Not sure what it is, though.”

Fenris nodded and ushered the others inside. They padded quietly through the empty halls – suspiciously empty halls that made his skin crawl – and it wasn’t long before they came upon a storeroom filled from floor to ceiling with a multitude of pristinely labelled books and artifacts.

“Andraste’s frilly underthings,” Dorian said in wonder. “Look at all of this. What an incredible collection.”

Sera wrinkled her nose. “Incredible’s one word. ‘Bunch of weird’ is another.”

“Actually, that’s three words,” Dorian said primly, and Sera stuck her tongue out at him. 

Rainier stepped into the room and ran his fingers reverently over a large animal skull. “This is a griffon’s skull,” he said. He looked at the others with wide eyes. “The last griffons died in the Grey Wardens’ care. How did the qunari get their hands on this?”

Cole tilted his head as he studied an uprooted astrarium. “There’s no pain,” he said. “Just lots of… ideas?” He blinked at Fenris. “I’m not the right kind of spirit for this.”

Fenris slowly shook his head, nonplussed by the overwhelming range of objects in this room. He looked at Bull. “They are collecting this for study?”

“Yeah,” Bull said. “Then they’ll destroy it. Or they’re supposed to, at least. But the Viddasala was using lyrium instead of destroying it, so who knows what she has in mind.” His tone was neutral, but his one good eye was wide as he looked around the room. 

Hawke snapped her fingers. “This must be how they got into the eluvians in the first place! Look at what they’ve got here: rare artifacts, enchanted jewelry, books – Maker’s balls, they have a lot of books.”

“No kidding,” Varric said. “The Arishok sacked Kirkwall over just one book, and here they’ve got hundreds.”

Hawke nodded slowly. “It’s knowledge,” she said. “Knowledge and power: the things Morrigan said you need to open eluvians.” She shrugged and patted Toby’s head. “That’s what they’ve been storing here. This is how they got the eluvians to work.”

Bull grunted. “Hopefully they don’t have any more ancient magic crap to throw at us.” He jerked his thumb at an enormous skull in the back corner of the room. “That dragon skull would make a wicked armchair, though. Maybe we could take it back to Skyhold after this?”

“Don’t you dare,” Dorian warned. “It will spoil Hawke’s decor theme.”

Varric looked at him in surprise. “What decor theme? She doesn’t have a theme.”

“Of course I have a theme!” Hawke said. “My theme is ‘things I like and want to show off in Skyhold’.”

“Uh-huh,” Varric said flatly. “You sure it’s not ‘things that give an impression of total chaos when visiting nobles come to the castle’?”

Rainier nodded. “It really does look like chaos. It’s, er, nauseating, actually.”

“Exactly!” she said. “It’s strategic, you see? They come into the Great Hall and think they’re getting total madness. Then they meet the Inquisitor and realize they’re getting Thedas’s smartest elf instead.” She gestured at Fenris with a flourish. “It throws them off. Puts them on their toes. Needless to say, Leliana approves of my decor.”

“Josephine doesn’t,” Dorian said slyly.

Hawke gasped dramatically. “Did she tell you that? That little gossip! She told me she loved what I did with the Great Hall!”

Cassandra tsked. “Perhaps we should move along. The qunari will have defenses in place. We must not stumble into… into anything blindly.” 

Fenris frowned at her; something on one of the shelves seemed to have captured her attention. “What’s the matter?” he asked. “What do you see?”

“It’s…” She pointed at a book. “That’s a copy of Swords and Shields.”

“What?” Hawke exclaimed. 

Varric snorted a laugh. “You’re kidding.” He wandered over to Cassandra, who was now flipping through the book.

“It’s barely used,” she said. “The spine is not cracked.” She gave Varric a wry smirk. “It does not seem that they considered it to be a source of much knowledge.”

Hawke chuckled. “Oh please, we all know what you’re thinking. You want to take that copy home, don’t you?”

“Of course not,” Cassandra said. “Why would you think that? I have a copy already.”

Her cheeks were turning pink. Varric and Fenris exchanged looks of alarm, and Varric tried to silently indicate to Hawke that she should stop talking, but it was too late. 

Hawke raised her eyebrows. “Because your copy is falling apart from overuse, of course!”

Cassandra’s face turned bright red. “I beg your pardon?”

Bull grinned salaciously. “Overuse, huh? Go on, tell us more.”

“Yeah, go on!” Sera cheered. “Details, details!”

Cole opened his mouth, and Varric held up a warning finger. “Don’t do it, kid.”

Cassandra glowered at them all. “I’m not – how dare–” She whipped around and pinned Cole with a glare. “Have you been spying again?”

“Oh Maker’s balls,” Hawke blurted. “No no, it’s not Cole, it’s – that letter you sent to Kirkwall before the Exalted Council! Your scribe mentioned…” She finally made eye contact with Varric, then clapped her hands over her mouth. “Oh shit, that was supposed to be a secret. Never mind. Um… Look at that vase over there. Isn’t that, er, interesting?”

Cassandra made a disgusted noise. “That scribe! That cheeky little – argh!” She buried her face in her hands. 

Bull chuckled. “Come now, Seeker, nothing embarrassing about it. It’s perfectly natural.”

Dorian stroked his mustache. “A bit strange that you’re personal friends with the writer of your, er, overused material, though.”

Cassandra shot him a scathing look, but Hawke was the one to reply. “How is that strange? I regularly tell Varric which of his chapters get me off.”

Varric tugged his ear while the others scoffed and chuckled, and Fenris shook his head. “Hawke…”

She blithely went on. “My favourites are the ones where there’s fingertip action.”

“Fingertip action?” Sera exclaimed.

“Yes!” Hawke said. “You know, ‘he traced his fingertips slowly over her petal-soft shoulder…’” She sighed wistfully. “So titillating. And he does it in every smut chapter.”

Sera cackled. “What? That’s tame! That gets you going?”

“Yes, because I know where he’s going with it next,” she said with a lascivious wink. “What about you, Cassandra? What are your favourite smutty bits?”

“I have no opinion on the matter,” Cassandra said haughtily, but she was smiling very slightly now.

Bull smirked at Hawke. “That’s definitely not what I thought of when you said fingertip action.” He looked at Dorian. “Did you?”

Dorian casually brushed off of his sleeve. “I have no opinion on the matter.”

Then Rainier piped up. “I think the biggest question is why Varric writes that titillating fingertip action in the first place.”

Hawke snapped her fingers. “An excellent point!” she said. She batted her eyelashes at Varric. “Are you looking for someone to trail their fingertips over that manly chest of yours?”

Varric tucked his hands in his pockets. “I have no opinion on the matter.”

Despite the growing pain in his arm, Fenris chuckled. Hawke grinned at him, then she started to laugh. Then Varric was laughing, and Rainier and Bull as well, and… 

And all of a sudden, all of them were laughing. All of them except for Cole, who was blinking in a clueless sort of way while he patted Toby’s head, and for some unfathomable reason, that just made the situation even funnier. 

Hawke wrapped her arm around Fenris’s waist as she laughed, and for a bittersweet moment, he admired the brilliance of her grin and the sounds of his friends’ unrestrained mirth. But the bitterness soon overtook the sweet when a lightning-sharp pulse of pain began to stab through his palm. 

He abruptly stepped away from Hawke and left the storeroom. When he was a safe ten paces away, he allowed the accumulated magic in his hand to burst. 

The accompanying agony shot through his arm to up his shoulder, and he clenched his jaw so as not to cry out. When the pain and magic had waned and the blood was no longer pulsing in his ears, he turned back to face the storeroom. 

They were all staring at him with varying degrees of worry and sadness and sympathy. All except for Hawke, whose face was white with fear. 

She exited the storeroom and looked at Bull. “Come on, then. Mechanical clanking noises, you said?”

“Uh, yeah,” Bull said. He gave Fenris a guarded glance as he stepped past them, and they followed him down the hallway in a somber silence.

Read the rest on AO3. 

[moonstruckbucky]

Fool for You [one-shot]

Summary: You want Bucky, but Bucky wants somebody else.

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x fem!Reader

Warnings: Angst. Lots of angst. Some self-deprecating thoughts, insecurity. Language because my potty mouth. Bucky’s a dick. Not a happy ending. You’ve been warned.

Notes: Inspired by Linger by the Cranberries, but keep in mind it’s not a song fic! I’ve been in such a writing funk lately. I hope this doesn’t totally suck. Enjoy! x

She’s funny. Her joke has Sam wheezing, Steve snorting, and Bucky chuckling. Even Nat has quirked a small grin. They’re so busy recovering their breath that no one sees the absolutely moon-eyed look Bucky directs at her.

Nobody but you.

It’s hard to ignore the rising bitterness in your throat as you sit on the couch, once ensconced in your novel until Sam began hooting like a broken trumpet, a result of her well-timed joke. Of course she’s funny. She has just about everything else going for her, including Widow’s respect, which is a national treasure all on its own.

She isn’t an Avenger, but she may as well be since she’s in the tower so much. It makes your stomach curdle. The super soldier at her side curls a loving arm around her shoulders, drops a kiss onto her hair, and the gesture has her beaming.

And Bucky looks about the same way you feel.

Because Bucky had to go and catch feelings for his best friend’s girl.

He thinks no one knows, but you’re his best friend. Of course you know. You know because he looks at her the same way you do him. You scoff quietly.

Cliches suck.

A weight drops onto the couch cushion beside you.

Careful, Y/N. Green isn’t really your color.

Wanda. Normally you take issue with the fact that Wanda sometimes implants herself in your head, but other times, like now, you’re thankful for it. Explaining it to anyone else makes shame bubble up in your gut.

You give Wanda a single, meaningful glance before your gaze is ultimately drawn back over your shoulder. She, Cassandra, is in the middle of telling a story that has everyone’s rapt attention, Steve looking down at her fondly while it goes unnoticed that Bucky is doing the same. You’re not sure if he realizes he’s doing it, but considering he’s doing it in front of Widow tells you he isn’t.

A quick glance at Nat shows her eyes bouncing between Bucky and Cassandra. Ah, so it wasn’t missed by the scarily-observant super spy. She catches your eye next, an entire conversation being wordlessly spoken. You avert your gaze with a sigh and miss the quizzical little head tilt Nat gives.

When Cassandra’s laughter bubbles up again, you can’t stand it anymore. Wanda frowns up at you as you stand, finger tucked into your book to save your place. You leave the room, wincing as the laughter picks up again.

Inside the confines of your room, you abandon your book to sit on the floor at the foot of your bed, your back against the mattress and box spring. You never meant to be part of probably the stupidest cliche to ever exist, yet here you are. And like that stupid cliche, you have no idea how it even happened.

Somewhere along the path of Bucky’s re-self-discovery, you fell for the man he’d become. Not the Soldier, not the smooth talking ladies’ man of the 40s, but someone somewhere in between. More self-assured than he’s ever been, though not without his faults or his setbacks. Really, though, how could you not have seen this coming?

You sigh into the dark, knees propped up and elbows resting upon them so you can drop your head into your hands. It’s stupid—pathetic, really—how your mind automatically begins to compare you to Cassandra, regardless of the fact that she’s taken. It’s more so because she has Bucky’s full attention, that moon-eyed look solely meant for her that you so wish was directed at you.

You’re a teammate, his close friend, and it seems that’s all you’ll ever be to him. It hurts, coming to that conclusion, knowing you’re one of those girls unfortunately and unfairly destined to experience unrequited love. You laugh mirthlessly to yourself and shake your head, tangle your fingers in your hair and tug, just a little, just enough to ground you before your mind sucks you into a maelstrom of self-pity.

You know sooner or later you’ll have to come clean to Nat, if the perceptive redhead hasn’t already put it together. Wanda is your closest friend aside from Bucky, but Natasha’s scary wisdom beyond her years comes in handy, especially in the tough situations.

You can’t imagine a situation any tougher than this.

So it comes as no surprise as, the next morning, the Black Widow corners you in the kitchen. You don’t bother to hide; stubbornness is one of Nat’s lesser, but more prominent, qualities, and she’s patient as all get out. Instead, you lead her back to your bedroom and spill. She doesn’t interrupt, only listens intently with her head tilted in that feline manner she has.

“Well, that’s quite a predicament,” she notes when you finish. Grumbling unintelligibly, you suck down your coffee. She leans back on her hands beside you. “So I take it there is zero chance of you talking to Bucky about it?”

“Why would I?” you retort, but Nat isn’t offended. “The only thing that’ll accomplish is ensuring our friendship is toast. Burnt as fuck, crispy toast. Plus, I’m not really in the mood to be humiliated when he says he doesn’t return my feelings.”

“How do you know he wouldn’t?”

“Uh, hello, I know you of all people didn’t miss the absolute head-over-heels look he gave her yesterday.”

“Yeah, but it’s not like he’s going to act on that. Steve would pummel him, and it would probably end their friendship.”

“Regardless, I’m not having that conversation with him. I’m just gonna...keep a lid on it and act as if nothing’s off.”

Nat scoffs and you shoot her a look. “Honey, even if I wasn’t me I wouldn’t miss the looks you give him when someone’s not looking.”

You open your mouth and then promptly shut it. Releasing a sigh, you rub your temples. “Okay, so then what do I do? If I pull away he’s going to know something’s up. He’s far too much like you.”

Nat, for once, is rendered clueless on how to proceed. Then, with an actual physical shake of her body, she says, “Okay, so you pretty much have three options. Option one, continue as normal, hide your feelings, be his best friend,  and ultimately, probably spontaneously combust because you’re keeping them down instead of letting them out. Option two, tell him, risk the chance that your friendship might change or Bucky will decide to pull his head out of his ass and not make moon-eyes at a taken woman, thus eventually falling in love with you and the two of you live happily ever after. Option three, you start dating. Outside the Tower. Run the risk that you’ll find someone who completes you instead of pining for a guy who might not.”

“That’s it, huh?” you deadpan. Truthfully, none of those options sounds appealing, but more than likely you’re going for option one.

Option one, it turns out, is a goddamn pain in the ass to stick to. In order to throw off Nat’s, and even Sam’s, suspicions that he’s into his best friend’s girl, Bucky has latched himself onto you. Normally, this would be, well, normal. Now? It’s downright impossible to bite your tongue from telling him what’s been cooking up in your head, damn near inconceivable to not lean into him when he sits a little closer to you at movie night. 

The little niggling feeling in the back of your head tells you he has tricks up his sleeve, but you brush it off for now and bask in the slightly spice scent of his cologne.

Some weeks later, you’re faring no better. It’s growing even more difficult to bottle your feelings up and stow them in the back of your mind, especially when Bucky’s clinginess seems to multiply tenfold. You aren’t dumb, or naive for that matter, when you realize the only time he’s right on top of you is when Steve and Cassandra are present. When you first put it together, no words in the English dictionary are sufficient enough to describe the painful pang in your heart.

Yet you let it continue.

Nat criticizes you more than once, as does Wanda (who’s admittedly a bit gentler with her approach, but Nat was never one for beating around a bush). You promise both of them you’ll confront him soon, draw a line in the sand that he can’t use you to make his best friend’s girl jealous. 

Plus, his plan isn’t working anyways. Cassandra remains both in the dark and unaffected by what he’s doing, and she merely smiles genuinely when she notices Bucky’s arm around your shoulder or waist. As soon as she and Steve leave the room, his arm drops and his shoulders droop. It makes you angry, and it’s why you suddenly begin to dodge his advances. You stop playing along to his chagrin and befuddlement, and the fact that he’s even confused by your refusal to go along with it reignites your ire.

How dare he abuse your friendship, wordlessly expect you to go along with a pointless attempt to make Cassandra jealous? It’s callous and a little cruel of him; you thought you were friends. Friends didn’t treat each other like toys or tools to just use at one’s convenience. Even more than that, with Bucky’s sudden attention on you all the time, as superficial as it is, it only intensifies your feelings for him—both the positive and the negative.

On the one hand, a large, secret part of you revels in being pressed up against him so often, absorbing his warmth and being able to pretend, for just a little while, that his feelings for you aren’t a scheme, that they’re genuine. The smaller, more logical part of you knows you can’t let this continue, and it finally all comes to a head when Bucky asks of you something so unbelievably selfish that you snap.

“I’m sorry, you want to what?” you ask, turning your ear to him as if you hadn’t heard him correctly.

“We should sleep together,” he repeats with a careless shrug. He seems surprised when your gaze hardens and ignites all at once.

“Why? So you can continue your pointless scheme of trying to make Cassandra jealous? Is that why?” you accuse icily. Bucky takes a small step back, mouth opening and closing similar to a fish as he searches for something to say. You beat him to it. “No, Bucky, I won’t sleep with you to go along with your stupid fucking plan of pursuing a taken woman, much less the woman who’s dating your best fucking friend. I’m not stupid; I know what you’ve been doing, and I can’t even believe you would abuse our friendship like that, use me the way you have, without a second thought. Do my feelings mean absolutely nothing to you? Do you know how hard it’s been coming to grips with the fact that, while I struggle with my feelings, for you, you only see me as something to use, something to exploit?”

Bucky’s face continues to fall as you rant, unleashing every pent up thought and emotion. Your voice covers a range of emotion—anger, sadness, hurt—all in a matter of seconds that he nearly has whiplash. Bucky’s always had a strong poker face, but even he can’t hide the feelings rolling through him. The one he settles on is shame. Good.

“You...you have feelings for me?” he questions, quiet and meek.

You scoff. “Right now, I really wish I fucking didn’t. You aren’t who I thought you were, Bucky. Not even close. I was willing to let it go that you wouldn’t feel the same way for me, I’ve accepted that. What I won’t accept is being used as if our friendship means absolute shit to you.”

“No, honey, that’s not—” He stops when you shake your head, teeth clenched tightly and jaw wobbling as you fight to hold back your tears of hurt and heartbreak.

“It was what you were doing, Bucky, and I want no part of it. In fact, I think it’s better you and I don’t speak.”

Bucky looks crestfallen, regret and agony and the will to plead for your forgiveness swimming in his eyes. Bucky’s poker face was ace, but his eyes gave him away and you’d become an expert at reading them. Even if it’s not what he’d intended when he began this hairbrained plan, it’s what happened, and you had been caught in the crossfire.

“Ever?” he asks, a sob ripping from his throat while those pale eyes brim with tears. You glance away for a moment, but then you bravely meet his gaze, holding it.

“Ever,” you confirm. Your face remains stoic but inside your chest your heart splinters and cracks. It’s so painful to break off your most treasured friendship, but Bucky had taken advantage of you, whether or not he had been aware of your feelings. You voice this aloud. “I can accept you not returning my feelings, but I can’t forgive you for taking advantage of me. That’s not what friends do. Goodbye Bucky.”

The door closes softly in his face and Bucky leans his head against the wood, face crumbling as he lets himself go. How could he have been so stupid?

[shawnsvalentine]

business + pleasure : one

description: shawn’s always been into older women but sloan is the exception that drives him wild

warnings: language, failed attempts at humor [2.6k]

It was a rarity for Shawn not to get what he wanted when he wanted it, and she made the mistake of adding to his perfect record as soon as she saw the white cylindrical box engraved with CHRISTIAN DIOR PARIS. There was an elegant note card attached at the top that had been sealed with a golden Giorgi Armani sticker. She made sure to open it while Cassandra was out with a client, knowing that the box wasn’t a care package from her mother.

For your collection. If you have one.

— Shawn xx

She couldn’t stop herself from gasping at the gift inside, the beautiful silk feeling foreign against her finger tips. The Strength mitzvah scarf, that she knew costed more than the thrifted one she was wearing when Shawn first approached her, every bit as gorgeous as it looked in the pictures. She knew that it was no coincidence that he’d chosen the S scarf, but she had no idea how he’d came across her name; she certainly hadn’t told him.

“Good afternoon, Sloan.” Her head snapped up to see him, just as alluring as usual in a plum button up and tight slacks. His eyes darted to the Dior package and he smiled, his whole face brightening at the sight of it opened. “I wanted to get you the whole ABC collection, but I figured you’d think it was excessive.”

“The only thing I thought was how odd it was for one of the board members of Giorgio Armani to gift me a Christian Dior scarf. Something you’re not telling us about your brand?”

He shook his head, his teeth glistening as a smile broke out across his lips. “Our scarves are just fine, you just struck me as a Dior woman.” Shawn wanted the next few moments to be scripted, for Sloan to wrap the scarf around his neck and pull him in so close that he could smell her signature fragrance personally. For her to mold her lips around his and grab onto his arms, moving on to moan sweet nothings into his ear. But of course, all she did was smile at him, thanking him for the gift. “Why don’t you wear it to dinner tonight?”

“Dinner?” What about Cassandra? was the subtext that both of them knew was written in invisible ink.

“A friend of mine just opened a restaurant about a month or so back, it’s in Brooklyn. Neither of our circles run in Brooklyn.”

She smacked his chest playful, taking note of the hard muscle underneath. “Excuse you, I live in Brooklyn.”

“Even better, we’ll be in your borough.” He knew he was playing a risky game by reaching out for her hand across the glass top mahogany desk, eyes fluttering up to catch her reaction. “Just one date. And if you genuinely think we’re nuts for sneaking around, then I’ll leave you alone. But at least let me buy you dinner before you turn me down.”

She laughed lightheartedly, using her free hand to point back at the color splashed creme scarf. “You already bought me a two-hundred dollar accessory,” He pouted, completely unprepared for her to shoot him down. “But yes. Dinner sounds nice. Pick me up at nine.” Sloan scribbled her ten digits on a loose sticky note, stuffing it in his pants pocket before sashaying her way to the break room for a cup of coffee.

She’d be lying if she said she wasn’t positively giddy at the thought of spending a few hours with Shawn in public, completely uninterrupted by her boss or one of her colleagues. It meant actual conversation and not hushed whispers in between meetings and body language of strictly platonic professionals in case anyone barged in while Shawn was paying a visit. It meant getting to kiss him for the first time.

Sloan blinked back to reality as the Keurig began brewing her coffee, the black liquid filling up her boob-outline mug that she got on sale from Urban Outfitters. “Isn’t this like your third cup today?”

“What can I say, Kimmy, I love coffee.” Whenever Kimmy added her two cents where she didn’t bank, Sloan wanted to roll her eyes so far back they could get stuck. She couldn’t even drink coffee safely.

Kimmy disregarded the snark and grabbed a water bottle from the fridge, glancing through the door as she sipped from the ice cold bottle. “Aren’t they just the cutest thing? Cassandra’s so stinking lucky, I’d give my right arm to date Shawn Mendes.”

“You’re left handed.” Sloan grabbed her mug and tried to return back to her desk in peace, but the sight of Shawn cozying up with Cassandra in the middle of the department’s floor had her sick to her stomach. They looked far too sweet giggling over nothing with one another, him practically nibbling on her ear, and all Sloan could do was wish that it was her. She hated feeling like a side piece, and even though she knew Shawn’s angle, she still felt like one. The girl he had to keep hidden.

Maybe: Shawn: It’s Shawn. I saw you watching us. I’m sorry. Will try to keep the office encounters to a minimum. SM.

Sloan: No, it’s not your fault. It’s on me

           Besides, if you stopped showing up I’d never see you

Shawn: Fair point. I’m still sorry though. Going to try to wrap up this deal as soon as possible. SM.

Sloan: What the fuck is sm

Shawn: My initials. I initial all text messages, force of habit. SM.

Sloan: You didn’t have to— nvm. SS.

Shawn: SS?

Sloan: Sloan Spelman

“You have a shoot tomorrow morning and you’re texting? It better be with your Gucci connect to secure that cowboy hat.” Cassandra. Most everyone has complained about a fatal flaw of their boss, but Cassandra Rosen? She was all flaws. Sloan often wondered how the hell she made it to where she was, the Editorial Director of the Vogue Magazine, talent be damned. How could anyone put up with one hundred and sixty pounds of pure mean just because she got things done? It was an answerless question Sloan had been asking herself since the day of her interview.

“Y-yes, I was just confirming it for the New Age Western shoot.” Sloan made a mental note to double confirm the hat for the shoot, otherwise she’d be out on her ass for telling such a boldfaced lie. She was still a bit baffled they were doing a shoot around a custom made Gucci cowboy hat for Lil Nas X all because he snuck it into one of his songs. It was kind of crazy how a guy younger than her had managed to wrap brands right around his finger, and he couldn’t even drink yet.

Shawn was practically staring her down from the doorway, fighting the urge to defend her against Cassandra’s sharp tongue. He knew his way around Cassandra by now, and saying anything to help Sloan would only increase her raging paranoia. It was just better to sit this one out. “I’m about to head out, I’ll see you tomorrow, Cass.” He wanted to say goodbye to Sloan but he settled on a polite nod as he turned to leave.

The rest of her work day was utter hell with Cassandra’s constant bitching about how Sloan’s first editorial shoot had to be perfect, as if Sloan wasn’t already stressing herself out. The only thing that kept her above float, aside from her coffee and Toblerone bar, was the reminder that her date with Shawn was mere hours away. She kept pushing aside the overwhelming anxiety surrounding getting caught and focused on daydreaming little scenarios about the two of them in some obscure underground speakeasy with total strangers. 

Sloan spent extra time in the shower, shaving everywhere just in case, and making sure she was fully lathered in her coconut meadowfoam body wash.  After a solid ten minutes of back and forth, she decided on keeping her curls out and wild, scrunching her bangs so she’d actually be able to see Shawn. She was still deciding between a tight black dress and a silk tank top with floral patterned bottoms when he texted her. It was longer than his normal and she was fairly sure he was nervous.

Shawn: I’m on my way. Took a while to decide on car or subway, but ultimately picked the subway because I wasn’t sure about the restaurant’s parking. He may have mentioned something about a nearby parking garage but those scare me. See you in about thirty minutes. SM.

She started to panic watching the minutes tick by and she grabbed the top and pants, letting her towel drop as she dipped into her body butter. Her underwear was barely on when her doorbell dinged, her hand reaching out to throw on her fuzzy purple robe before shouting out that she was coming. She figured it was her friend Alicia coming to hype her up before her date, but she couldn’t have been more wrong. It was Shawn. “Is that what you’re wearing? Bold choice.” He handed her the bouquet of peonies he was holding before kissing her temple. It gave her chills.

He looked absolutely... delicious. The maroon button up he was donning was showing off a bit of chest hair and his lucky pendant, and he’d rolled the sleeves up to the swell of his forearm. His hair was slicked back perfectly, his brown wavy locks framing his face in a way she thought should be illegal. She gulped at the sight of him towering over her, the urge to mount him oh so very real.“You said a half an hour? I swear it’s been only five minutes or so.”

Shawn shoved his hands in his pockets, his feet tapping against the welcome mat. “I had terrible reception at the terminal, it probably sent the second I resurfaced.”

“Well, come in. You can wait on the couch while I finish up.”

He shut the door behind him, showing himself around the coat rack to her living room. She followed a concise color aesthetic from room to room, the living room obeying the laws of pink and gold. There were plants surrounding her plush pink couch, and white throw pillows to match the rug beneath the golden coffee table. He felt like he was sitting in a Vogue interior design spread. “How long have you lived here?”

“Since junior year of college.” She kept her makeup to a minimum, light foundation with eyeliner and mascara, using extra caution so her outfit didn’t get stained. “It definitely beat paying that expensive ass room and board.”

She completely forgot about shoes as she left the bathroom, Shawn’s attention immediately on her and his jaw on the floor. Sloan tried not to pay any attention to it as she slipped into a pair of black pumps. “What? Is this not venue appropriate?”

“I-It definitely is, it’s just that I wasn’t exactly, I didn’t expect...” He rose from the couch, eyes still fixated on the way the silk clung to her body and how her curly afro graced her shoulder. “I don’t think I’ve ever been legitimately speechless in my entire life. Until now.”

They walked to the restaurant, taking advantage of the warm air and quiet street, using it as time to warm up to one another. The overwhelming lust wasn’t enough to make them fall for one another, but the conversation was. She led, and he followed, a dynamic neither of them were quite used to but most certainly suited them. He was chivalrous, almost too much so, but she basked in the unfamiliar feeling of being treated like royalty. She wanted to get lost in him.

The restaurant was fairly busy but not at all chaotic. Patrons stuck to their tables, keeping conversation at appropriate noise levels for the ambiance, and the staff floated about as if they defied gravity. The architecture was fawn worthy with its sleek modernity meets upper class design. “Your friend owns this place?”

“Maybe friend is too generous a term, but we went to college together. We keep in touch, get together every now and then for a drink. He called me when it opened.” He gave the hostess his name for the reservation and she led them to a staircase that led out to the rooftop. There were only two other parties up their with them.

“Shawn, this is absolutely insane. Semi-private seating?”

He waved it off, opening his menu as he pretended to browse. “It was nothing, I promise. Jalen insisted it was the perfect first date table.”

She watched him closely as he went off on a miniature tangent about how he and Jalen met. They went from hostile roommates to close friends who jammed out together on the weekends, and that sparked their years long friendship. He was quite the storyteller, animated and engaged, careful about each and every word he strung with the next. Her senses were in overdrive the whole night, watching him be absolutely gorgeous without trying whilst actually listening to every precious word that slipped past his lips: and he made it far too obvious that he was doing the exact same thing.

“I know I’m getting ahead of myself but… what about a nightcap?”

Sloan tried not to laugh at his obvious attempt at a different date night activity. “You? In my apartment? Drinking? Nuh-uh.”

“What? Why not?”

She searched for the words to sugarcoat we’re not in the same tax bracket, that their shred of a relationship didn’t need an introduction to class divides this early. “I live in a rundown brownstone that I most certainly wouldn’t be able to afford if my nana hadn’t left it to me. And I’m willing to bet you live in a two-story penthouse on the upper east side that you can afford because Armani treats you a little too well.”

He took a longer sip of his drink this time, placing it back down with a bit more conviction. “Alright, touché. But just because I live like a douchebag doesn’t mean I am one. I’ve already seen your place, what’s the big deal?”

She took a moment to think about it, twirling her fork in the last few noodles on her plate. Maybe she was judging him too harshly. Maybe she was the one who was uncomfortable with the class divide and he wasn’t even thinking about it. She shook it from her thoughts, going back to the good time they were having all on their own on the rooftop. How good her looked staring back at her awaiting her response, the faintest hint of a grin on his rosy pink lips as he shifted his weighted onto his forearms. “Admit it, you’re just trying to get in my pants.”

Shawn gasped, his hand flying up to press against his clavicle to feign shook. “Me? Try to get into your pants? We haven’t even gotten dessert.”

She rolled her eyes, tapping her fingers against the table as her leg crept up the side of his. “You’re such a dork.”

He was suddenly that much more aware of their proximity, her arm flush against his and her body heat radiating onto him. Shawn flagged down the waiter for the bill in a split second, reading between the lines of her body language as well as her hand that and snaked its way to his thigh. He’d never signed his signature as fast as he did right then and there, shooting up from his chair to help Sloan up. He leaned down to whisper in her ear about what the night held for them when the most obnoxious, ear-splitting shriek stopped him. 

“Sloan! This is so crazy, I was hoping us Fort Greeners would cross paths one day!” Her eyes were focused on Shawn the entire time, flickering back to Sloan only to shoot her an all-knowing smirk.

“K-Kimmy, hi.”

taglist: @shawnase , let me know if you’d like to be added!

[thatrandomwriter]

Not His Type

A/N ~ so this turned out a lot longer than expected but I hope it's alright! Thanks to anon for suggesting this and sorry it took so long 😊

Warnings: cursing

Pairing: Harry Bingham/Plus sized! Reader

*

It was so stupid that I liked someone like Harry Bingham- the guy with all the money, amazing looks, and a perfect, barbie shaped girlfriend. Of course, it wasn't Kelly's fault, but sometimes I couldn't help but resent her for having everything that I didn't. And then feel extremely guilty about it. All in all, my situation was shit. I liked my someone else's guy, and he would never look twice at me.

Their relationship was, quite frankly, falling apart. I felt awful for Harry, who really kept trying, but it looked as though Kelly had her eye set on Will, so all of his efforts were fruitless. There was a small, shameful part of me that was happy about this. I knew that he would never have feelings for someone that looked like me, though, and the bigger more rational part of me knew that it was awful of me to feel that way.

*

I sat through Helena's church service that morning, mostly just to be around people for a while, rather than spending a good portion of the day in my house alone. When we came out, I heard Kelly and Harry talking about the game of fugitive later. It didn't seem as though she was particularly interested.

"What a waste of time." She said.

"Well, we've got time to waste." He replied in a hopeful tone.

"Maybe you do." She offered him a small smile, before walking away.

I walked up to Harry, who was stood there looking dejected.

"Hey, uh, if you need a partner then I'm always happy to play. I mean, if you want?" I offered, nervous to be asking, but at the same time, it wasn't like we were strangers. We were friends, not the closest but still friends, so maybe there was a chance he would say yes.

"What, you taking pity on me?" He joked, raising an eyebrow.

"Yeah, you just looked so sad and lonely I knew I had to step in." I grinned up at him. "So, what do you say then? I think we'd make a pretty unstoppable team."

"I'm in. Want me to pick you up?" He offered.

"Yeah, sounds great." I couldn't stop myself from smiling.

"See you tonight, then."

Time alone with Harry- a rare commodity from someone who had so many friends and even acquaintances. I was definitely going to make the most of tonight.

*

The most flattering top I owned, matched with my favourite jeans. A little bit of makeup, not too much, a pretty pair of earrings and more effort than usual with my hair. I was probably trying way too hard.

I waited for twenty minutes, but there was no sign of him. He must have forgotten, or something must have come up. I decided to walk to his house- it wasn't like he lived very far away.

I saw his car, along with a couple of others parked up outside his house, so I walked up to his and knocked on the drivers' side window.

He wound it down.

"Hey, what's up?" He sounded surprised that I was here.

"Um, I thought you said you'd pick me up? Like, half an hour ago?" I tried to keep the annoyance out of my voice, but wasn't entirely successful.

"Oh, yeah, but I mean you didn't really want to come, right? I mean, you were just being nice. Allie said she'd come along instead."

So he replaced me, just like that?

"Right."

"Hey, I'm sorry, I didn't think-"

"Exactly. You didn't think. God, you can be such a dick sometimes." I snapped, and walked off.

I went home, and immediately collapsed onto my sofa.

*

At the next day's meeting, I sat at the back of the church by myself. I was tired and aching from falling asleep on the sofa. I felt like shit.

Harry came in to sit next to me just as Cassandra began talking.

"Hey, listen, I'm sorry about last night. I didn't realise it meant that much to you." He muttered, trying to look into my eyes, but I just looked down.

"It didn't." I whispered back.

"Well it clearly did, so I'm apologising. Whether you like it or not."

I turned to him.

"Would it really have been that bad? Spending time with me? Because I really thought that we were friends. You know, and that I actually mattered to you." Okay, so maybe I was overreacting a bit, but I was pretty pissed.

"Jesus, of course you do! That's not what I meant at all, okay?"

But Cassandra had finished speaking, and everyone was beginning to leave, so I followed suit, leaving Harry behind.

At least there was prom to look forward to.

*

I wanted to head straight home, but almost as soon as I left the church, Allie jogged after me and caught up.

"Hey," she smiled.

"Hey." I replied.

Allie and I had always helped backstage together back in high-school when there was a school play on, so we were pretty close. Close enough for her to know about my embarrassing crush on Harry.

"Listen, I'm sorry if I blew you off or whatever last night. You know, with Harry. But I didn't know you wanted to go with him too."

"It's fine. Honestly, it's not your fault. Just, you know, me and him- well, I thought that maybe something could have happened if we'd paired up together. It's stupid, I know." I said.

"Of course not!" she stopped, and turned to face me when I scoffed. "I'm serious. You know what? He would not shut up about how bad he felt all night." She implored, trying to get a smile from me. It worked.

"Whatever." I replied, but couldn't stop the smile spreading on my face.

She walked me back to my house, and we were about to go in when a noticed a large, white box on the doorstep.

"What's that?" she asked.

"I have no clue. You wanna help me open it though?" I offered.

"Yeah, sure, why not," she grinned at me.

We sat on the sofa, and I pulled the lid off. Inside was a smaller, black box and a note on top of what I was sure was a beautiful dress.

"Well read it then! I want to see who it's from." Allie looked almost more excited than me.

I opened the note.

'I'm sorry. - Harry (the dick)'

I read aloud to Allie.

"Well, I've heard better apologies." she smirked.

I opened the smaller box, and inside was a beautiful, sparkling silver necklace. Probably the most expensive thing I had ever been near.

I pulled out the dress- a deep pink, silky number that looked as though it would pull tight around my curves, but flowed out below my hips, and was framed with small white crystals at the neckline. In short, it was beautiful. But never anything that I would choose to wear myself. It drew way to much attention to my body, but in a good way- I would never have had the confidence to pick it out, but coming from Harry, just the dress itself felt like a compliment.

"Holy shit, that is beautiful. You're gonna look amazing in that!" Allie exclaimed.

"Wow. I just- I was not expecting that. Oh, my god!" I could honestly hardly contain myself; this felt an awful lot like a romantic gesture. And from Harry, of all people. Maybe I did have a chance in hell after all.

*

Prom night. The night I had been desperate to happen ever since I had received the parcel from Harry.

Wearing the dress felt even more amazing than opening it in the first place- somehow, he had known my exact size, and all my insecurities seemed briefly pushed back when I wore it, and when I remembered who it was from.

I persuaded Allie to help me with my hair, and I returned the favour by doing her makeup.

We were ready to go.

It looked amazing- blue and silver all around, an explosion of streamers and sparkles, disco balls on the tables and of course the music, blaring in the background.

Allie headed straight to the drinks table, and I saw Harry sat alone at a table. His hair was slicked back, and he looked even hotter than usual in his tux. I headed over to him, and he looked up as I approached, smiling as he saw the dress.

"You look amazing. Like, seriously amazing." He said, almost incredulous.

"You sound surprised." I was joking, but there was a bit of nervous truth behind my words.

"No! No, of course not, you always do, but tonight, I mean, I'm just surprised you wore the dress. I take it that means I'm forgiven?" He asked hopefully.

"Of course. I'm sorry, I was being a bit of an ass." I admitted.

"Not at all- it was my fault, honestly."

There was a moment of silence.

"You look great too, by the way." I said.

"Really?" He seemed unsure.

"Um, yeah, do you even have to ask?"

"I mean, I just- I dunno. I don't have a date, so this is all a bit weird for me, I guess." He looked down, suddenly awkward.

"Well, I'm happy to fill in." I suggested quietly, bracing myself for his answer.

"You really want to?" He asked me.

He wanted to be my date?

"Yeah, of course. Just don't replace me with Allie this time." I joked, and he chuckled, somewhat guiltily.

"Well, if you're my date, then I have to dance with you." He stood, offering me his hand, which I readily took.

He pulled me to the dance floor- a slow song was playing, and I wasn't sure if that was a blessing, or a recipe for disaster.

He placed his hands around my waist as I placed mine around his neck.

We were stood so close. I could not believe my luck.

"So..." He said.

"So," I repeated, unsure of the direction this was heading.

"I want to tell you something," He said, suddenly looking slightly nervous.

"What?"

"I really, really like you. And I know that you probably have no interest in a guy like me, but I-"

"I like you too." I cut him off, and he suddenly looked relieved and happy. "But I mean, why me? You could have anyone you want. Why would you choose me?"

"What are you talking about?"

"Look at me. I mean, I'm not exactly a model. I'm- I'll never have a flat stomach, and I hate my legs, my arms are just way too big, and I just look- I'm just so- I-" I could feel tears prick my eyes, and I felt like an idiot. The guy I've liked for years says he likes me, and what do I do? I immediately fuck it up, that's what. God, I hated myself sometimes.

"Hey, look at me,"

I looked up into his eyes.

"You are the most beautiful girl I've ever met. You're perfect, and I can't get you out of my head."

"But Kelly-"

"I don't love her anymore. I don't want her- I want you."

I found myself inexplicably believing him, as he slowly leaned closer. He was giving me time to move away if I wanted to, but there was nothing I wanted to do less.

He kissed me. Softly, carefully, sweetly- nothing like what I had expected from Harry. I kissed him back immediately, loving the feeling of his lips against mine, and a hand sliding up to tangle in my hair.

In that moment, everything was perfect. Harry Bingham was kissing me, and I couldn't be happier.

[planetsam]

What if Maria is able to feel what Michael feels for Alex & calls it off? Like, she's pyschic - she has to realize it's deeper than she knows (a HS romance) at some point

Maria will fall in love with a stranger who has hair like the sun and eyes like honey. They will love her and in her hour of need she will be alone.

“But mama why?” She asks, “if they love me why?”

Mimi DeLuca doesn’t have an answer for that.

At five, Maria doesn’t either

“Your turn!” Liz sing songs, nudging her towards her mother. She tries to protest but Liz pulls the puppy eyes, “come on. Please?”

Maria sits in front of her mother. Her mother doesn’t lie when she tells fortunes and the kids can always tell. Children know. Maria smiles because she knows her palm. It’s not a shock. Some part of her thinks maybe things will be different, people’s hands change. Maybe hers has. It’s much bigger now than it was when she was five. She’s ten after all. And she doesn’t think any of the people with hair like the sun and eyes like the sea are cute.

“You,” her mom says, “will love a stranger with hair like the sun and eyes like honey. In your hour of need,” she stops. Everyone leans forward, “in your hour of need you will be your own hero.”

She doesn’t say Maria will be alone but as everyone ooos and ahhhs, she feels it.

Taped in the back of the best friend’s journals she’s got with Liz, Maria keeps a list.

Small town have their advantages and she takes this one. Anyone she meets goes on the list if they have sun hair and honey eyes. Anyone. She’s got a reputation as a direct little lady, Maria DeLuca will look you in the eye and firmly shake your hand. She needs to look people in the eye. Sometimes the honey color is hard to spot. There’s no point in the list if she’s not going to be thorough. Isobel Evans and Michael Guerin are both on there, though she thinks Michael has too much honey in his eyes and Isobel’s don’t have enough. It balances out when Isobel combs sun blonde in her hair one summer, buying half the town’s lemons in the process.

Michael still has more honey in his eyes.

They learn about Cassandra senior year.

Maria learns more about her own gifts the same year.

Her mother starts to mix up her dates.

Looking back it’s a formative time for all of them.

Cassandra is a seer who also fell for a boy with sun hair. Apollo is the god of the sun, Michael doesn’t have control over his hair color but they are here anyway. Cassandra can see the future but no one believes her. Liz tells her not to get hung up on her mother’s words.

“It’s not like you need anyone anyway,” Liz says, “you’re the bravest person I know.”

Maria watches Michael slip into the music room and looks back at Liz.

“I’ll be my own hero and love whoever I want.”

“That’s the spirit!”

Maria is her own hero.

Any doubts she has are erased when the doctor hands her the pamphlet on care options.

“Come on mamma,” she says, “we’re going home.”

“You’ll be own hero, don’t try to be your own army as well.”

Maria decides she will and when Michael comes, she’s ready.

He looks at her with honey eyes and sandy hair. He strings music like Apollo. Maria knows her fate, but when he looks at her like that, it’s impossible not to give in. Maybe the gods are wrong about it. People’s hands change and she is not her mother. She doesn’t have to be anything when he kisses her and slides his hands across her skin.

She can just enjoy the waves.

She tells herself it’s her own guilt for as long as she can. It’s her, not him. Maybe that is why she is alone in her hour of need. It’s easy to blame herself. Or it’s easier than it is to think the world is cruel in every aspect of her life. She swallows down the guilt, wondering how they are doomed before they even start.

It’s not until those first sobs break free that Maria realizes why the guilt is so strong.

“I need to tell you something,” Guerin chokes out, “it’s about my mom.”

“I love you,” Maria says and Michael’s face is a kaleidoscope of emotion. Maria doesn’t know who hasn’t been telling him he’s loved, “but I’m not a hideout.”

“I’m not hiding out,” Michael protests and she raises her eyebrows, “I’m not,” he emphasizes, “I really like you.”

“I know you do,” she says, “but that doesn’t change things.”

“What things?”

“Things like you using me as a hideout,” he opens his mouth, “I can feel it,” Maria says, “you’re hiding,” Michael looks down, “you don’t have to,” She tries. Michael looks up at her. She smiles.

“You’re right,” he says finally, having the grace to look guilty. Maria settles herself, “I am hiding something. She braces herself for the impact, “when I was seven—“

Cassandra was a seer who was never believed, but she spoke the truth.

Maria is a girl who is fated to be alone in her hour of need, but that doesn’t mean she’ll fall apart.

“You lied to me! How am I supposed to be okay with that?” Michael’s guilt chokes her, “what else are you lying to me about?”

She can’t hide the pain in her voice. Maria refuses to beg him to stay, she refuses to set herself on fire for him. The world doesn’t have to believe her but she will speak the truth.

“Please,” He says, “I didn’t want this.”

“Did you think about what I wanted?” She asks. He looks down, “what about my friendship with Alex?” She feels the guilt bristle defensively, “you are the one who slept with both of us.”

“I know!” He tugs his curls, “I like you,” he looks at the door and his fear swamps her. She’s afraid too, she echoes back at him.

“I’m not getting in a love triangle,” she snaps and pulls down a top shelf for her and a bottom for him, “I’m mad at you,” she tells him, “and at myself.  But I’m blaming you. Fair?”

His relief cripples her.

“Fair.”

Maria will fall for a stranger with sun hair and honey eyes. She will be alone in her hour of need. She will be her own hero. You cannot pick and choose your fate. Hands can change.

The knife slips.

“Oh my god!” Isobel lunges forward and catches the knife before it goes farther across the bar. Maria wraps a dishcloth around her hand and holds it up,  “do you need stitches?”

“Probably,” she swears.

“I’ll call a cab,” Isobel says.

“Thanks,” Maria gets out. The cab comes and Isobel grabs her coat, “I go it,” she says.

“Are you crazy? I’m not leaving you alone.”

Maria hesitates.

Honey eyes and sun hair. Did Cassandra tangle with Artemis? She can’t remember.

“Come on,” Isobel says.

“Did you know I can read palms?” Mimi asks.

“Can you read mine?” Maria holds her hand out.

Mimi grasps it and turns her palm.

“Give me your other hand so I can check,” she says and Maria ignores the swoop of her heart and gives her mom her unmarked hand. Her mom studies and then smiles.

“You,” She says, “will fall for a friend with lemon hair and honey eyes. They will come from the stars and be afraid of flowers. And they will be your army.”

“I’ll be my own hero,” Maria says.

“Smart girl.”

[asilverjackal]

“Dolly.” When she turns her head and their eyes meet, he gives a nod. But, Delores knew this was not a gesture made as if to quietly say he enjoyed having a moment to bask in her presence. No, with his fingers curled on the limousine's handle meant he desired she joined him inside.

“Mom,” Cassandra raises her hand, her strained face is one almost pleading. “You don’t-”

It is then Delores who raises her hand. If it is not that which overpowers her daughter, then it is the scolding look shot. Delores did not need the protection of her. From the eulogy to speakers to enduring more songs, her moment of dread has been long gone. Outside the church with a clear mind, Delores recognizes she lacks fear for the moment that has been awaiting her. Maybe she should have been weary, he indeed had power in more ways than one. But when it came to her? ‘He knows better,’ knows better than to dare try anything harmful. Especially on this day of all days. But of course in their years together, Delores additionally recognizes that this man never rose a hand at her. Never cursed her name or released a slew of vulgarities in the frustration she caused to rise in him.

So, Delores does not believe he would kill her, but still, she keeps a very small, very special space in her mind sharp and skeptical. Aware of how people change, aware that by leaving and taking his daughters and little son to places unknown, she hurt Salvatore to unimaginable degrees. Nonetheless, he would handle this matter like a civil gentleman. She would not have him behave like anything less than.

Graceful, she turns her back on both Cassandra and her grandsons. Though she watched her mother approach the limousine with confidence and seat herself on dark, exquisite leather, Cassandra exhaled. This huff that did not succeed in releasing her tension and dread. Stressed, fingers more so crawl and dig in her temples rather than caress.

“Did Winston always like Frank Sinatra?” Delores does not feel as though she is prohibited from engaging in casual conversation with Salvatore, or that their conversation must flow in a particular way. Truthfully, she could not help but ask this ever since My Way began to play as the casket closed. Finally sitting down, Sal’s eyebrows raise with curiosity. “Did he always like Frank Sinatra?” she repeats her question, slightly louder.

“Yeah. He did. I mean, he was going to like one of those old guys when a Italian was married to his family.” Delores thinks of that word. Married. In the past she explained that to those who wondered why she drug on the name Lombardi that she was but a divorcee. They did not know how in reality, Delores placed the ring he gave her on the nightstand for him to find.

Sal breaks the brief moment of silence, “when’s the last time I saw you?”

“1991.”

“So thirty years give or take?”

“Twenty-nine,” Louis was merely a year old at the time, he’s thirty now.

As he nods, she finds herself unable to tell what could possibly be on his mind. Though, Delores knows for a fact if anyone in a highly good mood heard such words they would exclaim: ‘thirty years has been too long!’ or something of that nature. “You look beautiful.” ‘So he would resort to his silver tongue,’ Delores thinks. “Can I say that?”

She found no harm in it. To observe him in this state, alone and unbiased, Delores finds that no longer does Salvatore look strong. When they met, his body was hard from his boxing. He did it for sport, if not exercise. Then, when they lived together and his stomach grew from her cooking, newfound weight caused him to look all the more sturdy. Delores would not reduce this new Salvatore as a frail, tiny man. Here in his suit, she feels he reached the levels of sophistication that brought to mind the memory of Don Fiorello Nicoletti. It is one thing to be an old man donning a warm sweater with thinned hair and clear fragility, and another to appear so professional and well-groomed in spite of the many creases across their face. At this point in her life Delores would forever prefer men her age and find the potential for romance in them before anyone else. Thus when she replies, “you look handsome.” She means it.

“What made you come back around after twenty-nine years?” Delores dare not tell him she actually returned in 2004.

“New York’s my home.”

He raises an eyebrow, cracks a smile. “And you never thought of stopping by to say, “hey I’m back in town.” “Hey, wanna watch the kids”?” Salvatore speaks on all as if their breakup had been amicable. Her eyes roll, head turning with attitude, but he does not allow her to speak. Aware of her speech patterns, aware of the time it may even take for her to conduct the perfect reply. Time is precious, this ride will not last forever. “Why’d you leave me, Dolly?”

He does not sound hurt. He also does not sound as though he’s struggling to hold back anger and fury. In fact, it amazes Delores how he can continue to refer to her by that old pet name without a second thought. She wants to conclude time caused him to heal from the wound she inflicted. And even if the scar has faded, a mere outline on his pale skin with a few dark bumps, for the first time this morning Delores does feel guilt. “I had a good reason.”

Salvatore raises both of his hands, “let’s hear it.” The sight causes her to become critical. Wondering if he is as healed as she just thought or simply masquerades with an, all’s fine and well, attitude.

“We had a new baby…” suddenly, she wonders what sort of answer is Salvatore not seeking, but expecting? “I was almost shot.” Delores reminds, deciding not to have him think about the long term build up that contributed to her decision. “And at that moment, I only saw our children’s future. The entire time, I only thought of them.”

Listen, Salvatore swore to himself that he would listen before reacting. “I told you I’d protect you-” and yet, he cannot even hide his offense, the frustration seeps out in those six words.

“Well, I imagined the worst case.” Although she does not raise her voice, Delores still managed to snap out her reply. This renders him silent. “My parents were assassinated when I was less than a year old and I couldn’t get the idea out of my head that I was following right in my mother’s footsteps. I did not want my children to be motherless.”

She also did not want them to be fatherless either, but Delores doubted Salvatore would begin anew with her even if she pled. Even if she poured all her emotion and feeling into him. At that point in their life, he was a respected figure of the Family. And with his achieved status the man she loved became a glutton for power. Even after spilling his blood on her, Delores knew that when healed Salvatore would have immediately returned to business rather than be reflective of their life, their choices. Surely, he would track the assassin who failed to get lucky and make him suffer. But what if he failed? Overpowered? Ambushed?

Delores knew how women, like Jackie Russo, wound up on welfare with the death of her husband. Unable to grace herself in the presence of the other luxurious women married to men affiliated with The Family, it felt to Delores that the men discarded of her in spite of Gregory Russo’s lasting loyalty. And Delores knew many children lacked fathers. Sometimes, they just had no desire to interact with their offspring, sometimes, like Gregory Russo or Winston Littlejohn: they wound up dead. Therefore for a variety of reasons, Delores reckoned the lack of Salvatore’s would not damage Bianca or Louis. Even now Delores knows that Louis ascended to adulthood fine.

Both husbands Yvonne took out played a paternal influence in his life. Bianca, however, let it be known that she felt like the “black sheep” of the family. Originally, Delores had no idea what that girl was trying to imply. Then, ever so gradually, she caught hold to how Bianca was referring to her own behavior. Cassandra behaved like her mother in some ways. Quiet, stern, orderly.

This was the ideal way Delores insisted one should be in her household. So the lively and rambunctious Bianca naturally concluded she, and even baby Louis, took after their absent father. Then with the return to New York came the development of Bianca’s her interests. New life in Manhattan caused her to latch to those of Italian descent, caused her to soak in the culture. But Delores does not want to get into this. Gazing out the window she states one simple fact: “to be without a mother is a terrible thing.”

 Salvatore cannot agree with this story. His mind provides doubts, telling him that it’s all too simple a reason to flee. Yet, he also cannot deny how Delores made a point. Reflecting on his own youth, Salvatore knows the grief of not only being a bastard, but also having his mother mercilessly slain. So he was a poor, unfortunate bastard. The pity given to him by the parents of his companions made him want to protect himself, as if each hug and sympathetic gaze were attacks. Even if he could not see it clearly back then, the community of Bensonhurst placed him in an othered position to a degree that Brownsville did not. Ever the slightest stubborn, Salvatore recognizes Delores spent her childhood similarly stigmatized for simply remaining in her grandfather’s exclusive care. Therefore, they can both silently agree this would have been a fate they would have given anything for their children to avoid.

“Did you know I talk to Bianca?”

She looks to him, bewildered. “How do you talk to Bianca?” Even when Salvatore has no reason to randomly lie about such a thing, Delores cannot believe that. Let alone wrap her mind around it.

“Well…” The smile on Sal’s lips is there. Thin but there. “Are you aware our daughter works at a bar?” He enjoyed saying that more than he thought he would. Our daughter. For so long in conversations his offspring, the ones that were both there and absent, were referred to as his and no-one else’s.

“Yes, I am aware of that, Salvatore.”

“‘I have my name on it as a co-owner!”

He wants to crack up - just laugh and laugh at the face Delores has made. He would not call this, ‘if looks could kill’ it was more so comparable to how one looks upon learning that what they knew by heart was false.

“That bar,” the name escapes her, “isn’t in Brooklyn.” Salvatore and Winston’s territory was always Brooklyn. He shakes his head with a few loose laughs spilling from his lips. It is not in his current desire to speak of business ventures and changes he had made to the organization over the years.

“It’s a long story, but to make a long story short, Dolly: I wanted more legitimate businesses and I decided to be a co-owner of this place. The owner and I are good pals, and he knew I’d invest good money. So, getting on was no problem. Then, one day, I noticed this beautiful woman working there-”

“And it was Bianca...” How Delores utters this with such dismay. Utters as if her daughter had been discovered after days of being missing, but not intact. Utters as if she had the nagging feeling - the instinct - that the dismembered body discovered in the body bag was her daughter long before the name was announced.

“It was Bianca!” Meanwhile, Salvatore repeats this like his daughter had done something positively wondrous and delightful. As if she was the mastermind behind setting up his extravagant birthday party, one he would always remember and hold dear. In the midst of his smile, Delores groans.

“But she’s not unsafe. I promise you,” Luzurne’s is not like The Trinity, not one bit. He has the subconscious belief that white lines fly up nostrils in the bathroom, but never has this bar been where men meet grisly ends. “She’s in good company.”

“How long have you been talking to Bianca?”

“Oh, ah....I’d say six months.”

“Six months...?” Yet again, Delores looks out the window, because where else can she gaze to in this moment of dismay? “I can’t believe she would keep this from me.”

While knowing the answer, while even gently telling Bianca himself that her mother was better off not knowing of their connection, Salvatore plays dumb. “Maybe she didn’t know how you’d react. She said - do you know what she said to me that first night? She always dreamed of the day we’d meet.” Delores’ heart further sinks - she could imagine those words coming from her mouth. Her distraught is not concealed, and Salvatore truly finds no pleasure in her woe. The topic changes again,

“So Bianca told me a little bit about you. I hear you published a book?” Actually, he recalls seeing her on the morning news talking about it back in May. As he sat in his office, Salvatore thought that was a bold move for a woman who stayed under the radar. If he desired, he could have ignited contact then, if he desired. But he was old, and in many ways he was over it. So he just watched the woman who he historically knew to steer away from the stage, the light, speak on her experience of teaching. “And you uh, teach for a living?”

“I do.”

“Do you like it?”

Delores wonders how could she possibly simplify such a complicated thing. “I like it enough.”

“That’s good, that’s good.” Salvatore nods a little, “so Dolly, what made you want to come here?”

The answer comes easy to her, “The love I have for my cousin, Sal.”

“Even though you knew you’d see my ugly mug?”

“Why should you control what I do or don’t do?”

“What does that mean?”

“That means I’m not afraid of you.”

Salvatore could not begin to say what he expected as an answer, but at the bottom line it was nothing that would have been that stern. His eyes are soft, and for reasons unknown to her he tries to smile. It’s lop-sided. “Y’know Dolly...I meant it when I said I’m happy you’re here. I want to keep seeing you.” Delores can feel the tenderness laced to his words. “So, how would you feel...seeing me? Even after this?”

The only noise they can hear is the sound of the car against the road.

It is not as if he is asking her to date him. It is not as if he is proposing. Delores knew that if Salvatore desired either thing, he would have been upfront. This suited man, with his neatly combed over gray hair could have disastrous thoughts circulating in his head as he sits among her. But for reasons she could not begin to describe, Delores simply trusts this patiently waiting man. Never did she stop loving him, she’s forced to confront now that they’re together. Oh, she hated him, for a period. A very long period. But, she accepted he would forever be apart of her, whether that be through the children they shared or the memories he provided.

“It wouldn’t bother me at all.” And so, Delores gives her answer. Knowing they do not have to be enemies. They do not even have to be lovers. They can just exist among one another until time decides to whisk either of them away from this planet and it would be enough.