#and I would sell my soul for one little cheeky hint of something more

[enigmaticagentalice]

please Bioware just give me any indication in Veilguard that Varric and Cassandra are still friends and in regular contact, I am on my knees, one single crumb is all I need to sustain me

[dragonswithjetpacks]

I finally finished the next chapter of Theurgist. I don't know why I was struggling so hard to finish it. I literally only needed one conversation to finish it. Either way! Here we go!

Theurgist

Chapter Six: The Trouble of Secrets

-dragonswithjetpacks

Read here on Ao3.

“Is that it? Down there?” Ferelith peered over the edge of the cliff, shouting behind her as the roaring of the waterfall drowned out her voice. “Not much of a sanctuary is it?”

The ruined stone nestled into the grove below were nothing but rocks to her as she searched the area for anything note-worthy. From what she gathered, it was an area designated to the druids and a sanctioned place for their ritual. Other than that, everything else seemed a makeshift bandaid toward any attempt to reconstruct the architecture of the original temple that once existed. The stonework that remained standing was impressive in itself. But it seemed overshadowed by the poor craftsmanship of the woodwork, similar to what the tiefling camp was built around. With a disappointed huff, she pulled herself away.

“Let’s take a look at the rest of the camp. I’d like to hear a few more things about the druids before we head down there.”

“You don’t think we should introduce ourselves?” Gale crossed his arms, examining her closely. “The tieflings mentioned a healer was among them.”

“Did they?” she raised her brow. “I believe anyone with potential was said to be missing.”

“Ah, but there was a brief word about an apprentice.”

“I’m not interested in a druid apprentice,” she almost snarled, a wrinkle forming on her nose.

“We’re all in need of assistance, here,” he became stern with a lowered brow. “I can’t imagine putting off this kind of information. What sort of vendetta do you have?”

“I don’t,” she said quickly with a shrug to hide her hesitance. “I simply feel this is a problem more complicated that requires further assistance. Far from what an apprentice could provide.”

“And you think we’ll find something different with the rumors of refugees?”

“I think the tieflings will be desperate enough to help in any way they can. Rather than throw ourselves at the mercy of those running everyone out of the grove, why don’t we lend an ear to the needy?”

“She might be right,” Astarion pulled at his belt. “People in desperation are rather chatty.”

“Or we could stop wasting time. We have the location we need marked on the map. Let us be done with this place,” Lae’zel added her piece.

Ferelith had not trusted a single word of information she had received thus far. Every possibility for a cure to her brain problem seemed ironically far-fetched. Given her circumstances were unusual, she did not know why the suggestion of an obscure solution seemed so unlikely. Still, the idea of a gith camp made her uneasy and the thought of a druid healer made her sick.

“I want to at least speak with Zevlor, the tiefling’s leader, once more,” she stepped past her comrades. “I’d like to get a better idea of what we’re walking into down there.”

The focus was originally meant for striding back through the camp. Instead, it was directed toward to small orange eyes that caused her to pause. They belonged to a tiefling boy, not much older than the ones training on the platform above. Behind him was a poorly made table filled with an array of what she could only imagine were crafted items.

“Going so soon?” he grinned. “I couldn’t help but overhear your troubles. I might have something that could help.”

“I doubt that,” she scoffed.

“Hang on, lady,” he held out his hands. “Hold out your hand. Let me show you something.”

The small red hands of the child were quick, she had to admit. But still, she could tell it was the sleight of his hands that made the ring appear from thin air. Between his fingers was a single tarnished ring.

“Go on. Take it. It’s lucky.”

Ferelith humored him, taking it into her grasp. Between two fingers, she held up to her eye-level and began to wonder what sort of nonsense she might find in it.

“Call it,” he nodded, holding up a coin. “Heads? Or tails?”

“Heads,” she answered firmly.

The coin was flipped into the air, landing square into the center of his palm. The coin sat face-up.

“Heads it is,” he said confidently. “See? That’s the kind of luck you need. And you can get it with one of my lucky rings. I’ve got plenty more where that came from. Real cheap, too. Interested?”

“These runes are terrible,” she said, looking down at the ring with hardly any interest in the coin at all. “They’re gibberish.”

“Hey! Not so loud,” he hissed at her, grabbing at her hands to pull them back down.

Ferelith dodged his desperate attempts, stepping backward and holding the ring up further.

“This… looks like a smiley face,” she squinted.

“Alright, alright,” he sighed. “You caught me. They’re not lucky rings. I’m just… trying to earn money for my family. My father left and my mother… she’s so sick.”

He was lying. She was certain of it. Some children would line up just outside the alleyway across her shop. That alleyway was the same she would use to navigate quickly within the lower district of Baldur’s Gate. It was a quick shortcut, an access point, and a good source of information. There were often she would leave her window open, listening to the shouts of some poor swindled soul calling out to catch a thief. The alleys were swarming with urchins and pickpockets. She knew their games. To avoid their wrath, she would bring them sweets or simply a loaf of bread to feed them for the night. It kept her in their favor, but she always knew what to look for.

“I wish I had better things to sell than… trinkets. But it’s all I have.”

Ferelith crossed her arms, sticking her bottom lip out with large eyes to mimic the child. For a moment, he thought it was empathy. But he was quickly corrected by a jesting grin as the corner of her mouth turned upward.

“I’m not buying it, kid,” she laughed.

“I, uh… don’t know what you mean.”

“This is a Tinker’s Trash… and a clumsy one at that.”

“You know that really hurts. I’m running an honest- wait. Okay, what’s a Tinker’s Trash?”

“It’s when a scammer offers the target a ‘magic’ object-”

“Uh-huh,” he nodded eagerly.

“-then rigs a game to gain the target’s trust to sell them trash.”

“Interesting,” he paused for a moment, “And I promise this isn’t a Tinker’s Trash scam.”

“Then what kind of scam is it?”

“Look, I swear. These rings are the real deal. I’m not running a scam.”

“Alright,” she looked down at the ring with the scratched fake runes.

The children in Baldur’s Gate were clever, much like the little fiend before her. But not all children were so lucky. The desperation of the camp reminded her of the harsh ways of living within the underbelly of large cities. There wasn’t always a place for children to go. Which meant even if the tieflings ever made it, some of the orphaned children wouldn’t last a second in the dirty streets of the lower district.

“Let’s see what else you have,” she nodded.

“You’re paying for that one, aren’t you?”

Ferelith grinned wickedly. “Consider this your first word of advice: don’t let the target hold the product for too long. Or else the swindler will be swindled. It’s a free sample, now.”

“I’m not- you know what… it’s fine. You’ll feel way more confident once you’ve seen the rest of my stock.”

The trinkets scattered about the table were arranged quite nicely considering it was all literal garbage. One ring she picked up was covered in ants. She turned it over in her hand. Then picked up another ring. The child next to her was excitedly describing their properties and some came with stories of how they came into his possession. Children were typically creatures Ferelith did not gain any joy from. This brat in particular, however, brought a cheeky grin to her face. She purchased three of the rings.

“You bought something,” he said looking down at the coins she placed in his hand. “Most everybody says it looks like junk and moves on.”

“What can I say? I like collecting junk,” she shrugged, hiding the hint of the smile.

“Well, it’s a pleasure doing business with you. If you have any further need, you know where I’ll be. Take care!”

Just before she turned, she caught the quick wink to another tiefling who lingered off to the side. He appeared very nervous and simply gave a slight wave as their eyes met. Feeling rather pleased with herself, she approached the others near the edge of the cliff. Astarion had a rather irritated look upon his face from what she could gather. Then again, the expression had not left from the moment they entered the camp. Ferelith did the best she could to avoid him but found it impossible as he quickly hovered over her.

“You’re joking right?” his voice was harsh in her ear.

“What is it, now?” she said, sliding one of the rings with rubbish runes onto her finger.

“You’re just going to let them rob you?”

“They didn’t rob me,” she rolled her eyes.

“You bought actual garbage with gold.”

“What would you have me do?” she seemed rather interested in his response.

“They’re children. You could easily take it back. It might teach them a lesson.”

“And what lesson is that?” her head turned, her nostrils flaring with a cold stare. “That the strong can take what they want? That shouldn’t lessen the idea that the weak can survive.”

“The strong take what they want because they’ve earned that right,” he lowered his brow.

“We were all weak, once,” she rolled another ring around the palm of her hand. “Luck is what granted us the opportunity to become stronger. The only thing the strong have properly earned is the gratitude to have made the right choice and boasting rights.”

“Luck?” he appeared baffled by her statement. “That has nothing to do with it, darling. It’s all about dedication to gain power. A proper tool of strength.”

“Strength means nothing if you don’t know how to use that power,” she retorted. “And that is maintained by learning to avoid weakness. Besides… there is a chance the brat might come in handy.”

“I can’t see how a vile devil spawn with an eye for trash could be of use.”

“Don’t be so cross,” she mocked him with a false look of defeat. “I got something for you, too.”

The ring flipped up with a toss of her thumb. And he caught it, looking down and seeing the same thing he saw before. A piece of metal scrapped together.

“Wonderful,” he looked at it. “What does it do?”

“It makes you really invisible,” she grinned, walking back toward the entrance of the grotto.

“I don’t need invisibility.”

“You sure?” she tilted her head. “I believe I recall a bottle of acid smashed on the back of you during the battle at the gate. You were quite stealthy then, weren’t you?”

“I hope the money you spent on this just to insult me was worth it,” he grumbled behind her, tucking the trinket into his pocket as he listened to her chuckle.

“I believe it was,” she glanced over her shoulder with a suggestive wink.

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

Even after a day combing through the camp, Ferelith had found no healer. Plenty of leads that pointed her to one, but not a single healer in her current sights. Not one worth the risk, at any rate. All she had discovered was a camp full of unresolved tension with a burnt-out leader reader to snuff out his opponent with a sack of coin. Tempting as it may have been, she still considered the resolve to be attainable and wanted to avoid any further conflict that might jeopardize her chance of receiving a cure. Even with that setting as the main course for thought, there was still something juicier that caught the attention of her hunger named curiosity. It was the man she had met in the grove. The one who had dismissed her so quickly for assuming he had taken a pact as she had. Her thoughts fluttered back to the image of the cambion she saw, her wings stretched out to show her true form in all its beauty. Though the sight of it was but a glimpse, Ferelith was certain of what she had witnessed in his mind.

Slinging her pack off her shoulder and tossing it to the ground, she turned with the intention to approach him. He met her gaze as she grew near with a welcoming smile. He had been waiting all evening and expected she was eager to speak with him.

“Salutations,” he greeted her politely.

“Blade of the Frontiers,” she held out a hand, and he grasped it gently.

“Living legend, in the flesh,” he boasted with a good shake. “Slayer of specters. Killer of kobolds. The pride of Baldur’s Gate.”

“So they say,” she shook her head teasingly as he let go of her.

“Ah, so you’ve heard the stories?”

“I have,” her smile grew. “The wonderful tales that they are.”

“All true, I might add. Won’t be long before they’re telling new tales. Mind flayers, flying ships, dragon attacks- the legend grows!”

“Mind flayers and dragons are quite the stretch from kobolds,” she crossed her arms. “I assume you have an idea of how to handle this, then?”

“There’s an old saying I just made up,” he tossed his hand carelessly. “To fell a dragon, you must chop off its head.”

“I see,” she nodded slowly. “So... you have no idea.”

“Hold on,” he held up a hand. “These goblins are organized. It’s no hamhead pulling the strings. We slither through their camp and off their leaders, quick as crickets.”

“Take out the ones pulling the strings and the puppets have no one to follow. Not a bad plan, but I never imagined goblins would be the type to fall in line. Are you sure they’re as organized as you say?”

“Positive,” he sounded firm. “I’ve learned at least that much while defending the camp.”

“You said you were waiting for Halsin,” she stated. “Why risk your life for the tieflings?”

“Did you see those kids back at the grove? They should be chasing frogs, climbing trees. Not training for battles they can’t win. Those people look at me and they see a hero. Imagine how bad they’d feel if they were wrong.”

Dark thoughts weaved their way into her mind as she saw the selfish side of the pride of a hero. The downfall of the tieflings meant damage to his reputation. Then again, something about what he said was true. If it wasn’t, she would not be wearing a fake magic ring on her finger. And she would be a liar if she said she felt any different about them.

“It is an unfortunate situation.”

“I disagree,” he said firmly. “Fortune has brought us to their aid.”

Ferelith turned her head, eyeing him with distinct suspicion at the tone in his voice. It brought her back around to the sole purpose of why she had a desire to speak with him. But it also had made her question what he had seen when they crossed memories. If she had found the cambion, what had he discovered within her memories?

“Your eye,” she stated lightly while trying to sway the subject. “… it’s a bit unusual.”

“Now, now” he held out a hand to keep her at bay. “I always save the best stories for my closest friends and my cruelest enemies. Get to be one of those, and I’ll spill the whole jug.”

Her posture softened, but the intensity of her gaze never left.

“You get that, right? Spill the whole jug? Ugh- guess I’ll toss that one into the heap.”

Ferelith had already seen enough to know that there was something else to suspect of Wyll. This game he was playing by being coy was enough to keep her interest, but not enough to prevent her from becoming impatient. Her eyes were sharp and she leaned forward a bit with a knowing stare. She could see the grooves carved into his eye, much like stone. She had seen something like it before. Not recently, but during her time in Neverwinter, she had witnessed two colleagues exchanging them before setting off on a journey.

“It looks like a sending stone.”

Wyll threw himself into a fit of laughter. “A what now? Goodness, but it’s just a bit of rock- nothing so special, I assure you.”

The lifting spirits in his voice would have thrown anyone else off course. But Ferelith was keen to notice his jaw clench at the mention of the magic stone. He knew she was far too cunning to outsmart. She narrowed her eyes at his lies, a sign that she knew something of his secret. She would hold it… for now.

“If you say so,” she smiled.

It sounded far more sinister than it should. And he watched as her black hair swirled around her shoulder as she whipped around to leave him to his own bidding. His brow lowered as he glared at her back, watching as if he were about to see some demon rip from her spine. Just as she had seen what lie beneath his thoughts, he saw deep into her. It was a tall dark shadow with his hands placed upon her shoulders. He loomed over her, hovering like a heavy reminder of whatever deal they had made. Ferelith was never shy to admit she was a warlock. Yet he did note that there had been no mention of what her patron was. Or what sort of power she received.

Ferelith had reason to be concerned with what Wyll had seen. If she was correct in her assumption that they had exchanged knowledge of their patrons, and if the angered outburst had truly come from a darker place within, then she knew her passenger was still on board. It put her to ease, but the troubled thoughts remained as to why he remained silent. So silent, in fact, that she could not even feel him burrowing into the depths of her thoughts. Then, there was an idea that the worm in her had was so tangible, so heavy, that maybe his projected form was simply too light in comparison. The sudden realization was so profound that she felt the need to make note of it. To write it down along with all the other sort of information she gathered that day.

Rummaging through her bag she found the ink and quill she had been keeping. And with a sigh, she pulled out her books, one carefully at a time. Among them was a red book. She looked at it curiously. She did not remember this book. As she opened the pages, she noticed they were blank. She leaned forward to smell them. The book was new. And the outside smelled of leather and sweet cherry wood. It brought back a memory. And she knew it should have been there before, but it wasn't. This was a gift.

Her hand ran across the leather as she remembered the last face she saw before she was kidnapped. But then something occurred to her... what if it wasn't the last face. What if there were more memories that she was missing? She couldn't even remember how she was taken. All she could recall was stone. The cold numbing feeling through her head. And the blackness surrounding her vision. If she was receiving the gift that night, then she must have been taken on her way home. That was the only explanation from what she could gather.

She searched further into the back of her head, looking for the voice that usually appeared as a potential source for answers. It remained silent. Her gaze fell up to the sky, feeling a bit remorseful at the temporary loss of her inner companion. Still, she had the journal. And she was relieved she had something to remind her of herself. Her gaze shifting down, she wondered how her other companions had been captured. She had seen brief memories of them. But what if they, too, had part of their memory removed as she did. Her eyes fell onto Astarion and her heart jumped for a moment. It appeared he was feeling sentimental as well. The attraction she had felt for him reared its ugly head once again. He sat back in the grass, his legs kicked out as he looked into the sky. She wondered what it was that intrigued his thoughts. She could use the tadpole. But if anything was going to keep her patron at bay, it would be the exploitation of their newly arrived tag along. Instead, she stood up, tucking the journal into her pocket before making her way to the elf.

"It's quite a sight," he said as he felt her approach.

He did not turn his eyes away from the sky. And she noticed the pleased expression he wore. It suited him, but she felt it was out of character considering how smug his previous smirks had been.

"The stars, I mean," he clarified, finally meeting her gaze. "I could take or leave your chin."

He caught the hint of a smile, an indication he had picked up the teasing tone which matched that of her own during previous conversations. She hid it well and even glanced over her shoulder to confirm that Lae’zel was still too busy sharpening her sword to eavesdrop. The light from the fire reflected off her face and he could see the highlight of her cheekbones. As she turned back to face him, he held his tongue. He kept the sight of her for a moment before looking back up.

"Am I bothering you?"

"No," he said softly. "Just thinking... Reflecting on what tomorrow might bring. When we arrive at this... gith creche."

The use of his enunciation was unnecessary, though she still felt her fingers twitch at her side. She rubbed her fingertips against her thumb to hide the subtle notion, a reminder that what was tangible was far more real than what a voice could provide. His words felt fabricated. Yet, the way his mouth moved when he spoke was still so very enticing.

"Will we find out how to bring the worm under control? Will this little adventure of ours be over?"

"I imagine that is likely" she directed rather casually.

Astarion's face dropped as he drew his attention back to her face. It seemed as though she was not taunting him this time. He began to question her motive. Whatever she had back in Baldur’s Gate must have been far more suitable than whatever he had to offer. Why would she stay? Why would she risk her life more than she already had? What was it that she wanted to return to?

"A pity..." he frowned with a nod of endearment. "A great pity."

He sighed, sitting up to push his hands off the ground and onto his feet. He dusted them off onto his pants and she took the moment to admire his jagged profile while he remained occupied. As jagged as it may be, there were still features that brought softness to his face. For one, his eyes that he could make rather large at any given moment. And the way his hair curled perfectly around his pointed ears. A man so prominent, so smug, so proud... did not seem the type to have such playful curls. She acted as if nothing was humorous about them at all, however, when he looked her in the eyes again.

"I hate to disappoint you," she stated in a rush, "but I doubt you'd miss me that much."

"Of course I would," he proclaimed with his eyes fixated on hers. "You've been to the Hells and back! Survived the crash. Survived everything that's followed. I'm not easily impressed by people. But you're stronger than I gave you credit for."

"I didn't know I appeared to be so weak," she lowered her brow. "I've always been renowned to be rather impressive."

Ferelith brushed her hair from the side of her neck, placing her beauty further into the light of the fire when she turned her head. Her sullen eyes, high cheeks, pointed nose, pursed lips... they all illuminated before him. There was a dark presence to her, one he could not name. But the feeling of it alone was welcoming to him. He glared at her temple, wondering if he could tap into her thoughts without her noticing. But he was not willing to risk it. Instead, he found the nerves that ran through her skull... the pounding of her heart. He followed the sound to her neck, tense from their conversation... She was impressive, indeed.

"And aren't you just," he found himself muttering.

Beautifully frustrated with a thumping rhythm sounding before him as his own personal concerto. It made him wander away from camp. Away to places where he could take her beneath the trees under the cover of shadows. It was more than just taking her blood. It was taking her... all of her...

"Are you alright?"

Her voice brought him back in front of her. In front of the blasted campfire.

"Hmm?" he hummed as he regained himself. "Oh, uh, I was leagues away."

"You're... staring..." she was stuck between question and concern.

There was no point in telling lies any longer. He was, in fact, staring. Though... the reasons were a bit muddled, even in his own mind.

"Was I? I just..." he held his breath, still unsure of his intentions but knowing the hunger was now committed. "I just need to get some... air. Clear my head."

"That's not strange at all…"

There was an urge to dispute her rebuttal, but he stopped himself from saying another word. He would hate to end this moment poorly. One so beautiful as she looked at him from down her nose, her chin held upright as she smirked with amusement as she had cornered him into an awkward circumstance. She was enjoying this. Seeing him struggle. He made note of it as he stepped slightly backward, ready to leave before he endangered himself any further.

"I'll see you later, then," he bowed slightly. "I'm sure of it. Sleep tight."

"Right," she nodded. "Enjoy your air, Astarion."

"Yes," he mumbled under his breath. "My air..."

[leah-halliwell92]

Too Much Love Can Kill You

Summary: Soul marks are found through touch and song, one must sing to find their half and touch completes their connection. To reject your mark is to sentence them to death. you have been on tour with Brian, Roger and Rufus for a year and have known them for nearly four. What happens when you find out along the way that you are the mark of one Brian May?

Previously:

Roger saw this and sat back holding back a smirk of his own.

‘Aim, shoot, kill,’ he thought as he saw Brian go from listener and friend to your soul mark.

“So…” Brian began almost jovially, “You’d have willingly taken part in your daughter’s murder?”

–//–Meanwhile with the moms and kids –//–

“Mom…not Brian,” you say as you get up and make a dash for the door.

Rufus gave the women a smirk and followed after his sister.

Your mother exchanged looks with Sarina who not a moment later was staring slack yawed at the doorway.

“She didn’t mean Brian (Mother’s name)…she meant Roger,” Sarina said before she settled on a smirk and said, “Let’s take our time going back down.”

Your mother nodded and arm in arm the women took their time going back to the lounge.

Prologue – Chapter 1– Chapter 2 – Chapter 3 — Chapter 4 – Chapter 5 –Chapter 6 – Chapter 7 – Chapter 8 – Chapter 9 – Chapter 10 – Chapter 11– Chapter 12 – Chapter 13 – Chapter 14 – Chapter 15

Chapter 16

Sarina and your mother bumped into you and Rufus waiting for the elevator. 

“I thought you’d be downstairs by now,” Sarina said with a grin.

Rufus laughed and said, “We want to remember our childhood days and waited for mum like good kids.”

You slapped him playfully on the shoulder and laughed before saying, “She’s been busy for the past few minutes.”

The older ladies nod and the group then start talking about you and how you were as a child.

Sarina was not at all surprised to hear you were more than a handful as a little one. Nor was she surprised to hear that you were all for the underdog as you are now. What she was surprised to hear was about the time the school dean caught you and your friends smoking weed behind the bleachers. 

“It was one time,” you said with a huff, “The high was soooo much better than coming down. People just don’t tell you that when you go for the first hit.”

Rufus nodded at that equally as enlightened by his sister’s history as Sarina is. 

The elevator doors opened and the group still sharing anecdotes here and there about you and your childhood. It was fun to hear some of the stories reminding you that not all was as dark as it seemed. There are definitely some of those you’d tell Brian later; but you need to make sure everyone is alive for that. 

The sound of your phone ringing silenced the chatter. 

Rufus looked at your phone and laughed. 

“What!?” You said hitting him and sliding the phone open to answer it.

“You wouldn’t happen to be on your on your way down would you?” Mr. Carrey asked. 

“I am why?” You say brow furrowed.

“Your father has proceeded to dig is grave deeper,” he said anxiously, “Your mark is attempting to restrain Mr. Taylor as your father explains something to them.”

“The doors are opening I’m on my way,” you say and hang up breaking into a sprint to the hotel’s coffee lounge. You ran in to find Brian nearly siting Roger as the shorter man struggled to lunge over the table at your father. 

“What’s going on here!?” You asked anxiously. 

Roger nodded angrily in your father’s direction. 

Brian resumed his seat and proceeded to pull on on his lap. You could feel his tense frame relax as soon as you sat on his lap. His right hand found its way under your shirt onto the skin of your back and his left your free hand. 

The warmth that seeped through your bond did wonders for the both of you. You relaxed into his embrace nearly melting onto his side and he in return relaxed even more, despite the evident anger and discomfort that still clung to him. 

“I’ll ask again,” you say as you see your mother, Sarina and Rufus come in and retake their seats, “What is going on here?”

“We asked your father quite seriously if he’d have willingly taken part in your murder,” Brian said calmly. 

You weren't fooled. He might look outwardly calm but he is anything but, if how tight his grip on your hand give you a hint. 

“He said that ‘you’d have agreed and that it wasn’t murder if you agreed’,” Roger said through gritted teeth. 

You mother visibly paled at this and shuddered before gathering herself as much as she could and said, “You know as well as I do that she would have never agreed to the union (Father’s Name).”

Your father scoffed and said, “(Y/N) would have done it because it was a fare trade her hand for her education.”

Brian scoffed loudly at this and said, “That is not an answer.”

“So quit hiding behind what you wanted her to do and answer the question,” Roger said cooly. 

Your mother broke into painful sobs before hitting you father again over and over crying out, “You’d have let her die you bastard!”

“What was it?” Roger asked in disbelief, “The free education too much to pass up?”

“No!” Your father yelled as Sarina went to your mother, “She needed to be brought down to earth again. School and marriage would have done that.”

Out of nowhere you began to laugh...and laugh and laugh. Tears began to fall as the realization that yes your father would have practically sold you not only to save face but to prove that that was all you needed to be the type of successful he wanted you to be. 

Brian pulled you closer, as close as your current sitting position allowed, and let you sob as the truth washed over you in icy waves. 

Your mother stood from her seat and ran to you wrapping you in her arms. 

Brian allowed your mother to hold you and give you some time to gather yourself. 

You gently pulled away from your mother and stood up. You took a napkin from the table and wiped your eyes and nose. 

“I think we’re done here,” You say as strongly as you can, “And if you really think I’d have let you sell me then you are wrong. And if there had been the chance of such a union happening the only down to Earth bringing you’d have been privy too would have been my burial.”

“Don’t you talk to your father that way,” Your father said angrily. 

“Oh stop it (Father’s Name),” your mother said, “You wanted to keep her so close to the vest that you’ve yet to realize...”

“You lost me the moment you plotted an arranged marriage between two unmatched individuals so you didn’t have to pay a dime for university schooling,” You finished for her, “Jacob was a good boy, everyone in this town knew he was. But he changed and not for the better. A child needs to see he is loved and have a stable environment for there to be a good upbringing. Jacob’s life was turned upside down when his mother died and Jacob Senior took over both work and raising Jake.”

“And you know as well as I do that Old Jacob is as clinical as they come,” Your mother said voice icy, “That boy...that sweet gentle boy was broken when his mother died and instead of seeking help Old Jacob let that fester and the fact that he is a cold and clinical man did not help that.”

“Dad the fact that he has a record for aggression should have told you everything,” you say quietly. 

This raised everyone’s heads in question and shock. 

“You didn’t think I didn’t keep an eye out for my once best friend?” You said challenging your father, “Jake not only has anger management issues but can be more than a little possessive when it comes to things he considers his.”

“This is what your mother meant when she said that he’d rather see you dead than with someone else,” Rufus said in awe. 

You nodded with a sad look on your face then said, “And it pains me to see that my own father would rather see me dead than happy all because he had a plan and it didn’t go the way he wanted.”

Brian stood and took your hand in his.

You looked up to him and nodded at the silent question asked through the bond. 

“Bye dad it was nice seeing you,” you say shooting him a sad smile before making your way out of the lounge. 

Everyone left sitting stood and followed after you including, to your father’s surprise, your mother. 

It was afternoon already and you needed to get ready to head to the concert hall.

You came to a sudden stop when you felt your phone vibrate you look down at the still locked phone to read that Etta had seen Jake leave the florist and is heading to the hotel. 

“Well isn’t this a surprise,” Brian says with a knowing grin.

“What?” You ask about to put your phone away. 

Brian was faster and took it from you pressing on the home button to show the picture on the front. 

“What! I like that picture,” you say reaching for your phone only to have Brian move to avoid you getting it. 

“What picture?” Roger asked now curious. 

((Picture is above))

“This,” Brian says showing his bro the picture. 

“Well if it isn’t Brianna May in all her glory!” Roger says with a laugh.

“Dad...ring her phone,” Rufus said with a cheeky smirk. 

“Nope!” you say and nearly jump to get the phone back.

This spurred Roger on and you groaned as ‘I’m in Love With My Car’ blared from your phone and a picture of Rogerina popped up.

Rufus was nearly on the floor from how hard he was laughing. 

Sarina and your mother looked on fondly at the moment before breaking into their own peels of laughter. 

“Im so changing the pictures when we get home,” you grumbled as Brian gave you back your phone.

“No need for that my love,” Brian said kissing the crown of your head, “I’m flattered that you’d love me in any way, shape and form.”

You grumbled under your breath and nearly groaned when your mother said, “I’ll have to tell you about her musical crushes, well more like crush, sometime.”

“Oh really?” Roger said with a waggle of his brows and a chuckle from Brian. 

“They don’t need to hear that story mom,” you say trying to dissuade that particular story. 

The light atmosphere seemed to die as soon as an all too familiar voice said, “(Y/N)? Little (First Name) (Last Name) is that you? My God when I heard that you were in town I had to come see for myself.”

You all turn to see Jake Parker standing there with a bouquet of flowers and charming smile. 

–//–

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–//–

Tag List: @pansexualqueendarling, @queenattheopera, @brianandthemays, @theborhapboysawakenedmywhatever, @ramibaby, @captain--americanna, @awkwardangelshezza, @avengerraven1023, @danamaleksworld, @pastywhiteperson, @readinghorn, @i-was-born-like-this, @redspecialstardust, @reedusteinrambles, @readinghorn, @subbysharkbabe, @capan-devereaux, @bowieandqueen11, @bellamy1998, @reedusteinrambles, @simply-sams-things, @sincerelygmg, @bleu-jean-baby, @brian-mayonnaise, @0hour9am, @toomuchtellyneck, @kimanne723, @sincereleygmg, @kyleetheeditor, @glamrockmonarch, @rawyld, @queensdivas, @crazylittlethingcalledobsession, @rogertaylorsfalsettogivesmehives, @phoenixqueen07, @ohmybribri​, @jennyggggrrr​, @jd-johndeacon-or-jackdaniels​, @painkiller80​

[universalfanfic]

*tears streaming down my face*

I ... did it. ... I wrote something. There is relief in my soul. 

Here is my continuation of @gracieinanovel‘s Wedding Planner AU, because I love it and I needed to join in. :) 

Cora belongs to her, of course. 

Sutton froze over the table, fingers reaching, and Cora wasn’t sure if the woman had meant to try and flee the room or attempt strangling her. Her face was blooming the most vibrant red, and it appeared it took some effort to remove her tongue from the roof of her mouth. 

“Steve!” Sutton finally managed to squeak. “Hi. I’m- I’m good. You? I mean, how have you been?”

“Good. Good.”

Cora almost felt bad about springing this on her. Almost. But if Sutton had gone the entirety of her Paris trip without contacting Steve, then this was on her. She obviously needed a push. 

Steve still looked morose and longing as he shifted further into the room. It must have still been raining, because he looked just as wet as Cora did coming in. 

“Perhaps Steve would like a drink?” Cora prompted. 

Sutton jumped at the direction and opportunity to have something to do. 

“Right; of course! I have some coffee. Coffee good?” 

There was a coffee pot behind the counter; it was still half full and probably should be either poured out or drank before it burned. 

“Do you want a sweet too,” she called out over pouring a mug. “I have a new cupcake-” 

“Oh, just coffee is fine. Thank you.”

Steve rubbed his hand through his wet hair and pulled a chair over to their table. Sutton’s expression flickered before settling back on a forced smile. 

“Ok.” 

Cora internally groaned. 

Watching them interact was like watching two junior highers dance around each other. She’d thought after Steve’s confession things would move forward between them, but Sutton’s doubts about his sincerity and then her internship felt like it’d dragged them three steps back again. 

But there was time for the both of them later. Cora reorganized the paperwork she’d brought and brushed a lock of hair behind her ear. This was still a business meeting, after all.

They ought to get something done.

Sutton sat awkwardly between Steve and Cora, unable to scoot her chair away from him without being obvious, and she passed over his mug as she cleared her throat. 

“So, you probably know who the wedding is for.”

“I might,” he said. “But I might have also signed a non-disclosure.”

Both Cora and Sutton groaned in response. 

“I suppose that just leaves us to figure out the details,” Cora relented. “So, which rooms will we be using, and what are our times?”

They discussed timing and plans and room ambiance. The wedding ceremony was going to be held on the main balcony overlooking the bay, with plenty of twinkling lights and foliage covering the space. The reception would be held in the estates most lavish room, fondly referred to as The Fondue Room due to the high rental costs. 

Eventually, one of them yawned and they noticed the time. The rain had pittered to a spitting mist and the moon rose higher. Sutton collected their empty mugs while Cora collected her files.

“Well, that’s more progress,” she said, forced cheer in her voice. 

Steve and Sutton both nodded, sneaking a look at each other before turning away again quickly. 

“I guess we’ll see each other at the wedding.” Sutton glanced between the pair, rubbing nervously at her sore knuckles. “Unless Fury gives you a free moment before then,” she added hopefully, directed towards Cora.

“Oh, I wish, but I’m afraid I can’t count on it.” Cora smiled ruefully. “You know how Fury is, and with this wedding booked he’s been more frantic than usual. Obviously, because I’m here at this time of night.”

Sutton looked disappointed, but not surprised. 

“I’m telling you,” she said, “you have to start your own business. You’ve got the talent for it, and it’s probably the only way you’ll get your freedom.” 

Cora made a face and shrugged.

“I don’t know,” she said. “At the rate I’m working, anyway, it’d be impossible to find the time.” 

Steve cleared his throat and Sutton finally looked at him, shifting on her feet. 

“It, uh, was nice seeing you again too. Steve.” 

“Yeah. You’ll have to tell me about your trip sometime.” 

“Right, sure!”

Cora winced, but luckily the expression went unnoticed by the other two. She and Steve exited together and Sutton bid them both a goodnight, locking up before moving through the shop to prep for another early morning. 

The quiet night air settled around them and Steve let out a long sigh as he ran his hand through his hair again. 

“Well,” he said, “that… happened.” 

Cora placed a hand on his arm. 

“Hey, everything is going to work out.”

“Three months,” he said. “I just- is it because we-?”

“What? Went on one date?” Cora laughed lightly. “Steve, please. Sutton can just be a nervous person. She thinks-”

At her pause Steve looked over, his eyes prompting her to continue, and Cora shook her head. 

“You both will have to talk if you want this worked out. Now, I better get at least a couple hours of sleep before Fury decides to blow my phone up again. I’ll see you at the wedding.” 

Steve sighed and dug in his pocket for his keys. 

“Drive safe,” he said. 

He waited until Cora was in her car with the doors locked before he started up his own car. Their headlights disappeared into the night and the low lights in the bakery popped off shortly afterwards.

[]

The bell in the shop rung as Sutton pushed open the door to Banner’s Botanicals; the smell of soil and fragrant flowers were heady in the air. 

“I’ll be one moment!”

“Take your time, Bruce.”

A head of dark wavy hair popped up from behind a shelving unit holding some sort of flowering cacti, and Sutton reached her hand up to wave.

“Long time, no see. Not going to lie. I thought you were really done for good this time.”

Bruce Banner pushed around some nearby ferns as he made his way to the front of the shop. 

“Hey Sutton,” he said. “So did I. But apparently I can still be coerced.” 

He frowned at that, and Sutton suppressed a wry smile. Bruce could be stubborn, sure, but he was also a bit of a peacekeeper. It took quite a bit to actually get him to explode. 

“I’m guessing they at least weren’t asking for lil-” “Don’t.” He cut in sharply. “Don’t mention the lilies.”

Sutton held her hands up in surrender and chuckled. 

“Ok. But I would like to see what they did ask for. I’m supposed to incorporate some floral aspects into their cake.” 

He sent her a look before letting out a breath of air and waving her to follow him to the back of the shop. 

“You and Cora,” he said. “You know there’s a thing called email? You can attach pictures? Or maybe even use google?”

“Sure,” said Sutton. “But this gets us out of our offices for a bit. And anyway, isn’t technology just ruining face-to-face interactions?” 

Bruce rolled his eyes.

The further back in the shop, the more expensive the plants got. And for a man who’d sworn to only work with succulents from now on, he sure had a selection of flowers at his disposal. 

“The bride wanted whimsical but elegant,” he said. “And for once, there was even a list of suggestions to work from. We decided on white wisteria, some assorted peonies, and a few gardenias sprinkled throughout. And greenery, of course. I’m thinking mostly ferns. Probably some Israeli Ruscus.”

Sutton ooh-ed over the samples and took out her phone to get some pictures. His selection of plants were second-to-none. No doubt that was the reason this mystery couple chose him. And they certainly had some cash on them, because he was making an example bouquet as well. 

“Can I get a few small samples to take back? Are you still selling individual stems?”

“Do you have any samples?”

Bruce flashed her a cheeky grin and Sutton returned it. 

“All my friends are opportunists,” she lamented. Still, she pulled a small paper box out of her purse and taunted him with it. “I thought you might like some inspiration as well.” 

They exchanged goods, one looking a tad more excited than the other. Sutton sighed as she eyed the delicate petals and the complicated layering of the wisteria. 

“I might be ordering some of these from you. Their order expressly stated little to no fondant on the cake. And these?”

She made a tsk-ing sound against her teeth and shook her head. Bruce spared her a pitying glance until he looked back to his set of cupcakes, and grinned. 

“At least you know they have good taste. Fondant is gross.”

Sutton raised a stern pointer finger as she sucked in a breath.

“Ok, listen-” 

[]

Cora nibbled at her bottom lip as she used a spare, quiet moment to do some personal research. It wasn’t that this particular wedding was giving her an odd feeling, she’d worked a few weddings that had demanded discretion, but generally she could accurately guess who it was for. 

There wasn’t anything in the celebrity gossip tabloids that mentioned possible weddings coming up, no matter how thoroughly she looked. Boo. She supposed she’d just have to wait for the big day to find out the big secret. She pouted and drummed her fingers on her laptop as the digging stopped at a dead end. 

Her notebook was just to the left of her computer and she could see that name amongst the rest of her notes. 

Loki Laufeyson.

She still didn’t understand how one person could’ve garnered such a negative reaction out of Sutton, and so far she hadn’t had the opportunity to really pry into why. Cora cocked one eyebrow and tilted her head as her fingers danced over her keyboard.

Well, she still had a moment. Why not look?

His website was sleek and clean, with accents of dark green and gold adding a sense of wealth and elegance to the layout. He was the sort of wedding coordinator that you had to call to ask about his rates, which generally meant the average person shouldn’t even bother. 

From his gallery, it seemed he’d been involved in some high profile weddings and other various events. Cora hummed. There wasn’t anything that she could glean from his about page to give her any hints.

Even if he was wildly arrogant and obnoxious, Sutton probably would have just said he was a character, or annoying. 

“Are you sitting? At a time like this?”

Cora jumped at Fury’s voice as he swept into the room, camera bags and a tripod precariously cradled in his arms. 

“Do you know how many jobs we have to complete? There’s the party on the seventeenth, the charity event coming up, and that mo-”

“Yes,” Cora cut in. “The wedding, I know.” She hopped up and closed her notebook, gathering all her things and making herself busy. “I have everything under control, sir.”

Fury shot her a piercing look, which was always impressive given he only had one eye. 

“Under control isn’t good enough. This wedding could be what really launches this business into the public eye. Everything has to be perfect. Which is why you’re going to meet up with that Laufeyson and get all the details sorted out. Got it?”

Cora wanted to give him a flippant salute, but she still did need the paycheck. Instead, she grit her teeth behind closed lips and forced a smile. 

“Crystal clear, sir.” 

Well, perhaps she’d get some answers about this guy sooner than she thought.