#and I’m imagining my oc in there and she’s just like waiting for the raid to start

[foxfyrez]

Mmm just imagining scenarios of Chuck doing a weird online game dungeon raid (I’ve been watching Log Horizon so this is where it comes from) and he’s hosting it with VR stuff, and like it’s all fun and games

[just-here-for-the-moment]

Paloma, Part II

Series Masterlist - Part I - Part II

Word count: 8900+

Rating: explicit, 18+ only

Outline: Statesman!Frankie "Catfish" Morales, Agent Jack “Whiskey” Daniels, and "You" (OC cis/het female reader, Statesman research analyst, code name “Paloma”; age 26; reader is “blank canvas”/no physical description/no use of “Y/N”)

Warnings: “plot bloat” (trying to get Paloma where she needs to go); fully legal age gap; curse words; alcohol; Whiskey acting like a bastard; a little sprinkling of angst; open-mouth kissing; protected P/V sex; some extra-soft!Frankie

On your third Monday at Statesman New York you led a planning meeting that should have been easy. Jack Daniels made it anything but.

The worst part was that you hadn't even been properly introduced yet. Where Champ had rolled out the red carpet for you at Louisville HQ, Whiskey was a phantom, too busy to meet with you during your first couple of weeks. That made what happened in the meeting even more humiliating.

You started by outlining the research that your team had gathered, the analysis that they had carefully done, and presented the options and outcomes. When you were done, Whiskey threw his copy of your report down on the table and said, "That's horseshit."

You felt your face heat with embarrassment, but you tried to hold your ground. "Excuse me?"

Jack waved his fingers dismissively, "That's alright, I'll excuse you. This isn't the kind of work I expected from our new 'hotshot' team lead. Why isn't there information about the facilities we'll be targeting?"

"There are no 'facilities' at this location, Agent. It's a one-and-done for a drop and extract. There's nothing to raid, nothing to seize, and nothing to see."

"Really?" He arched one eyebrow at you and rubbed his thumb over his lower lip. The sheer cockiness of it made you burn with irritation. "So how come the information we got last Friday tells us that there's a production facility the next block over? You really gonna send our agents halfway around the world without botherin' to target the facility next door?"

You froze. Was he correct? That didn't seem possible. How had your team missed that? You held his gaze with as much assertiveness as you could muster, trying to match his attitude so that you wouldn't appear to be weak. "I don't have information about any facilities."

He cracked a smirk, "Well then, you're not very good at your job, are you darlin'?"

You swallowed hard and tried not to let tears rise. How dare he talk down to you? What the hell was his problem? Another agent spoke up, saying that if new information had come in recently, then you could review it and reconvene later to discuss its impact. The meeting disbanded.

You felt like you had been sucker-punched, and you weren't sure if you wanted to flee to your office, or sit gripping the edge of the table and glare Whiskey down. You opted to stay, waiting for everyone else to file out. Finally it was just you and Whiskey left, sitting at the big conference table and having some kind of a stubborn staring contest. This was not how you wanted to start your new job.

"What the fuck is your problem with me?" You gritted the question out and held his gaze. You knew that cursing at a senior agent, not to mention the one who was the face of Statesman Whiskey and de facto head of the New York office, probably wasn't the wisest way to start your tenure... but neither was backing down and letting him roll right over you.

"Nothin' personal, darlin', but I can't let you give my agents incorrect or missing information. Your team should have known about the facilities at this location."

"It sure felt personal, Agent Whiskey. If you have a problem with my work, you take it up with me privately. I don't mind admitting when I've made a mistake, but it's shitty to treat people like that in front of others." You glared at him, trying to look as fierce as you could.

He finally looked away from you, and muttered something that might have been an apology.

"What's that, Agent Whiskey? I didn't quite hear you."

"I said, 'I'm sorry.' You're right. That was unfair of me."

Before you could stop yourself, you found acid on your tongue. "Well, well, the great Agent Whiskey lowers himself to apologize. No wonder you flash that charm at everything on two legs. Your manners can't stand on their own, can they?"

If you hadn't been so focused on gathering up your paperwork, you would have seen a flicker of hurt cross his face. Instead you stomped out of the conference room and thanked the stars that you hadn't cried. By the time you got back to your office, a cold ball of regret was starting to form just below your ribs. You prided yourself on being able to work effectively with everyone, and you were extremely proud of your track record at Statesman so far. Why hadn't you been less confrontational, or tried to smooth things over? Why had you jumped straight to a pissing contest?

---

"God, what an asshole!"

"I told you, he's kind of a lot to take." Ginger's voice on the other end of the phone came through calm and sweet, as she always was.

You spun your chair to lean back and stare up at the ceiling of your office, trying to keep tears from forming. "Ugh, he's such a colossal jackass. I cannot believe he tried to undermine me like that in the meeting. I could have strangled him!"

"Just stay out of his way as much as you can. I'm sure he'll calm down once he sees what kind of work your team produces. You're doing great."

"Yeah, well... not so great actually. It turns out he was right. There was a report on a facility that came through very late on Friday, and one of my analysts went home sick, so I didn't get it in time for the meeting. That's the worst part: he was right, the bastard."

"Oh, Paloma. I'm so sorry. I'm sure that stung."

You let out a deep sigh. "I'll be okay. I just hope I get the chance to catch him making a mistake, and then I'll shove it in his stupid face. Make him lap it up with that ridiculous mustache of his."

Ginger giggled. "As much as I'd like to imagine that with you, I gotta run. Call me later? I miss you!"

"I miss you, too. 'Bye."

You hung up and spun your chair around, coming face to face with the sight of Agent Whiskey leaning in your office doorway. His arms were crossed casually, one foot propped over the other, looking like he could stand there all day. Your stomach leapt into your throat and then dropped down to your shoes. How much had he heard?

"Oh, kill me now," you breathed.

"Not just yet, darlin’. We have work to do." He popped up from his perch in the doorway and took a seat in one of your visitors chairs.

"How can I help you?" You kept your tone respectful, although it verged on frosty.

"Well, we need to revise the mission plan to include the new intelligence. Then we need to have a talk about civility."

You arched an eyebrow. "Oh, civility? I see. What kind of ‘civility’ did you have in mind, Agent Whiskey?"

"Well, for one, you can call me Jack. And for two, I was comin’ down here to apologize again, but apparently there's something you'd like to shove in my face and have me lap up with my ridiculous mustache?" He twitched one eyebrow up, looking smug and amused by the double entendre.

You closed your eyes and suppressed a groan. Maybe this was a hallucination and you were still in bed at home. Or maybe you hadn't actually left Louisville. You cracked one eyelid open, finding Whiskey’s deep brown eyes still on you. You decided to try to be the bigger person and smooth things over.

"I'm sorry. I was venting to a friend, and obviously that wasn't intended for your ears."

"Well now, I’m a big boy. I've heard worse and survived."

"I apologize. I let myself get irritated by your behavior in the meeting. It wasn't professional, and it won't happen again."

"Well, for my part, if I think you've made an error, I'll be sure to talk with you privately instead of calling you out in front of the team. Deal?" He stuck one broad, well-manicured hand out to shake.

You reached your own out somewhat reluctantly, then warmed to it, feeling how large and soft his hand was when it wrapped around your fingers. "Deal."

He gave your hand one final squeeze. An involuntary tingle ran up your arm, and you found yourself wondering whether he was as talented with his hands as he was smart with his mouth. Oh god, what was wrong with you?

You cleared your throat and pulled your hand away, trying not to jerk it back like he’d burned you.

“I’ll, um, I’ll have my team revise the mission plan to include the new intelligence, and then we’ll reconvene tomorrow. Sound good?”

“Sounds fine, darlin’.” He winked at you and you felt something flutter just below your navel.

---

Despite the conciliatory conversation with Whiskey, you still felt awkward and hurt, not to mention confused by some of the warmer feelings that had popped up uninvited. You spent the next six weeks trying to fly low and avoid Whiskey. You sent your senior analyst as your replacement for every meeting that you possibly could, and when you did have to attend them you timed your entrances and exits so that you wouldn't be in the conference room any longer than necessary. You transferred reports to Whiskey's office electronically, and when a hand-delivery was required you sent whoever happened to be closest to you. It worked great. You hadn't said more than "hello" and "goodbye" to Whiskey in so long, you were starting to feel like maybe you had escaped the awkwardness, the horrific start to your time in New York. It felt like a bad dream from another era.

One late Thursday afternoon, your plan fell apart. You got a request from Whiskey's assistant for a hard-copy file, and the entire office suite was empty. Each of your team members was off doing other things or had left early. You avoided it as long as you could, running to the ladies room to pee and then lingering in the hallway outside your office, just in case someone from your staff came back. After 10 long minutes you realized that you were "it" and that nobody was going to come save you. You sighed and trudged to the elevator. It seemed to move too quickly, depositing you at Whiskey's floor in no time flat.

As you rounded the corner you saw that Whiskey's assistant was gathering her things to leave for the day. After one too many disasters with "pretty young things," Champ had put his foot down and assigned someone to Whiskey who would keep him on the straight and narrow. Mary was what you called a "motherly hard-ass," while Ginger called her a “saint.” Mary had worked for Statesman almost as long as Champ, and she knew her stuff inside and out. Most importantly, she was completely immune to Whiskey's flirtations. He had tried once or twice to charm her, but after finding that her warm exterior concealed a brick wall of professionalism and a razor-sharp wit, he had relented.

"Hi Mary!" You kept your voice cheerful and light, trying to hide the twisting in your gut. "Here's the file he requested."

"Hi Paloma, you can go on in." Mary smiled wryly, "He actually asked to see you if you showed up. Sorry, kiddo, you're a lamb to the slaughter." She patted your back in sympathy.

Your shoulders slumped, "Ugh." Just as you were about to air your disgust in stronger words, Whiskey's door opened.

"Paloma! Glad to see you, darlin'. Come on in."

You shot Mary one last look, pleading for reprieve. She patted your shoulder and bid Whiskey a good night.

You forced your legs to move, and when you got inside Whiskey's office you perched on the edge of the sofa in the visitors area. Whiskey preferred to entertain visitors away from his desk, so he had a cozy corner of the office set up with two large chairs, a coffee table, and a black leather sofa that seemed to take up half the room.

You tossed the file on the table and spoke in a monotone that bordered on rude. "Brought you the file. Need anything else?"

Whiskey gestured to the bar cart. "Can I get you a drink, darlin'?"

"No." You shook your head. "But thank you."

Whiskey shrugged and poured himself something amber in a small glass. You couldn't take your eyes off his hands as they deftly maneuvered around the glassware and ice bucket. They reminded you a little of Frankie's hands: strong and thick, sure and precise in their movements. But where Frankie's hands were warm, work-worn and calloused, Whiskey's were primped and clean, just as manicured as his sharply tailored suits and slick mustache. You bit the inside of your lip to bring yourself back to reality before your brain could wander any farther down the path of what Whiskey's hands could do.

You focused your gaze on the file on the coffee table and waited. Whiskey settled himself into the big chair closest to your end of the couch.

"Paloma, darlin'. Thanks for coming up."

You cringed internally and tried to screw up the courage to ask him to just call you Paloma. The nickname of "darlin'" was starting to grate. For a moment you weren't sure if it was because you found it unprofessional or because you wanted to hear it more. Shit. What was wrong with you?

"What can I do for you, Agent Whiskey?"

"Please, call me Jack."

"What can I do for you?" You refused to give in, drawing your mental line in the sand. You could have a whole conversation with him without calling him Jack, couldn't you?

"Well now, I was hoping we could finally chat a bit - outside of a meeting, that is. You've been here almost two months and I'm sorry that I haven't taken the time to get to know you better." He winked.

You suppressed an eye roll and pursed your lips. "What would you like to know?"

You weren't going to make this easy for him, you decided. If he wanted information beyond your resume, or even a friendly conversation, he would have to work for it. You weren't simply going to open up like a flower under the sunshine of his charm.

"Well, I understand you're from Louisville. Beautiful place." He leaned forward in his chair, resting his elbows on his knees, trying to close the space between you.

"Yes." You scooted all the way to the back of the sofa and crossed your arms, somewhat amused at the difficulty you were giving him. He hadn't expressed any displeasure yet, but you were certain that he was going to get frustrated sooner or later.

"Well, darlin' I had no idea that we were growin' them so smart down there, not to mention so pretty. If I'd known, I would have lured you up here to the big city a lot sooner." He looked like he was about to wink again, or try to devour you.

"Is that so?" God, he was really buttering you up, wasn't he? You crossed one leg over the other, keeping your arms crossed over your chest for good measure.

"Yes, it is. I was awfully impressed by your analysis on the Rex Smith case ‘bout a year ago. I had no clue there were that many shell companies in the mix. I would've thought three, maybe four, tops. But you found thirteen!"

Your jaw dropped a little at that. Not only had he seen your work on your first case as Assistant Director in Louisville, but he had reviewed the case file thoroughly, remembered such a tiny detail, and was also giving you credit? You were starting to think that you had underestimated Agent Whiskey. His charm and sass were legendary, but you now realized that those traits didn’t indicate anything missing in the brains department.

He smirked at your reaction and teased you gently. "Better watch that mouth, darlin'. You're liable to catch a few flies if you don't close it."

Goddamn him. You closed your mouth and tried not to sulk. You didn't like making mistakes, especially not such idiotic ones. If you weren't careful, he was going to knock you on your ass.

"Can I get you that drink now, darlin'?"

"No, thank you. I need to get going." You uncrossed your legs and stood up. Whiskey stood at the same time, and you found yourself entirely too close to him, your bodies just inches apart as you tried to negotiate your exit from the seating area. Something warm that smelled like cedar and smoky bourbon was emanating off of him, and you were certain it was from the expensive side of the cologne department. His coffee-brown eyes held yours, and you caught yourself staring at him while your brain sent you panicky messages to, “Move! Speak! Leave!”

Whiskey let the moment hang, seeming to enjoy every second that passed like torture for you. His eyes were twinkling so hard you thought you saw sparks. You heard yourself exhale a breath that was far more shaky than you would have preferred. He put his hand out to shake yours, and you found yourself imagining what would happen if you bypassed the polite gesture and wrapped your arms and legs around him, knocked him to the floor and kissed that stupid mustache right off his face.

Instead, you reached out to shake his hand and accidentally brushed the front of his hip, just an inch from his crotch.

"Oh my GOD! That was an accident. I'm so sorry, I'm sorry!" You scrunched your eyes closed and buried your face in your hands. Mortification consumed you as you heard Whiskey guffaw. You felt like you were going to die of embarrassment, and you were pissed off that it wasn't a real possibility. Death would have been extremely welcome.

Whiskey put his hands on your shoulders and squeezed. His laughter died down to a soft wheeze. "Hey, look at me."

You dared a glance through your fingers. His eyes twinkled and his white teeth still showed in a wide smile. "I'm sorry I laughed, I know it was an accident. You weren't trying to take advantage."

You moaned and Whiskey chuckled again. "It's alright, darlin'. You didn't break anything."

“Argh! I’m so sorry. That’s the most embarrassing thing I’ve ever done.”

“It’s okay, I didn’t think anything of it.” He pulled you gently toward him, and you did something you never imagined possible: you let him wrap you into a hug.

“I’ll forget it if you will, darlin’.” His deep voice rumbled against your body and you felt yourself melting a little. Tears of embarrassment pricked at your eyes.

You sniffed and pulled back. Whiskey let you go, but kept one hand on your elbow. He looked at you warmly and smiled. “Really, darlin’. Don’t think anything of it.”

You found yourself staring into his dark brown eyes, warm and shiny with humor. The mood shifted almost imperceptibly, turning him magnetic. Something in you snapped and you wrapped your arms around his neck and kissed him.

Whiskey hummed a surprised noise against your lips for a moment, then opened his mouth to let you in. His mustache was softer than it looked, and hardly tickled at all as you wrestled each other for satisfaction. You found yourself tumbling down to the couch. Whiskey lay over you with one strong arm wrapped around your lower back, keeping you pressed close against him. His lips and tongue were eager and searching, and you responded in kind, nibbling his plush lower lip and flicking your tongue across the back of his top teeth. The taste of his liquor intermingled with the scent of his cologne, and it sent your senses reeling. He tasted and smelled and felt so good, and you wanted to stay there and drink him in forever.

Your lips parted from Whiskey’s and you took a gulp of air, looking into his brown-black eyes above you. The inrush of oxygen kicked your brain into gear and you felt cold; both from the absence of Whiskey's mouth on yours and from the dose of harsh reality that washed over you. This was wrong... wasn't it? As good as it felt, it wasn't right to make out with the boss in his office, after hours, on a couch for God's sake. What the hell were you thinking?

"Oh, shit!" You shoved Whiskey's shoulders up and away, rolling him toward the back of the couch as you slithered out from underneath him. You landed on the floor, then crouched and stood up. Whiskey shifted on the sofa, turning to lay face up on the plush leather and folding his arms behind his head. His grin hovered somewhere between 'Cheshire cat' and 'kid let loose in a candy store.' You groaned at the sight while irritation and the desire to flop back down on top of him fought equally within you.

"Well now, darlin'. You need to be off somewhere?"

"Yes. This was not a good idea." You waved your hands in front of you as if you were trying to erase a blackboard. "I think I need to leave."

"Feel free to come back anytime, darlin'. I'll be right here."

You took three swift steps toward the door and then spun to face him. "I need you to stop calling me 'darlin''. My name here is Paloma."

He cocked one eyebrow at you as you continued. "And another thing, Agent Whiskey: this never happened."

Before he could respond you yanked his office door open and jogged to the elevator. What the hell was wrong with you?

---

"Ginger, you have got to help me. I don't know what's wrong with me." You shuddered out a breath as you kicked your shoes off and sat down at your kitchen table. At your elbow was the biggest drink you could pour without causing a hangover.

"Are you okay? What happened?"

You gulped. "I kissed him."

"What?! Why?"

"I don't know! I just... I was in his office and he was standing really close to me and then I went to go shake his hand but I accidentally touched his crotch and..." you trailed off as Ginger laughed. "It's not funny, it's embarrassing!"

She giggled at you. "That sounds kind of funny. You'll laugh about it later."

"I won't. I wanted to die of embarrassment, but then he was so nice about it and he was looking at me softly and I just- I kissed him! What the hell is wrong with me?"

"Try not to worry too much. You're not the first lady to make that mistake and you won't be the last. He'll forget about you as soon as someone else catches his eye.”

"Yeah, I know." You weren't sure if being one in a long string of women made you feel better or worse.

"… although it does seem like you have a ‘type’ now.”

“What?!”

“Well he is tall, dark, and handsome. If he weren’t such a jackass I’d say he reminds me of Frankie.”

“Oh, hell no. That is not a fair comparison. They’re nothing alike.”

“You’re right, Frankie was a gem. Listen, just avoid Whiskey and keep your eyes on your work. He'll forget about you and it'll be like it never happened. And as irritating as he is, I know he's not a gossip. Don't worry, this won't get around."

You threw back your head and let out a long breath. "Okay. You're right. All I have to do is my job."

"That's right. And you're really good at your job, Pal. Don't let this derail you, okay?"

"Okay. Thanks, Gin. I appreciate it."

"No problem. Listen, I have to go, but I wanted to tell you that I’ll be coming to New York next week. I have to do some training with, uh, a consultant. And when I’m done we can have a girl’s dinner out, okay? Just try to have a good weekend."

"Thanks, I will. You too."

You sighed and finished your drink. The idea of calling in sick tomorrow floated up, and you seriously considered it. But you had already spent six weeks avoiding Whiskey, and your integrity wouldn’t let you call out without a good reason. You could make it one day until the weekend, right?

---

You awoke Friday morning with a pounding headache and a cotton-dry mouth. You were dreading going to work, but duty called. You showered and dressed as slow as you dared, and found yourself dragging into the office only 15 minutes late. Fortunately, there was enough work to keep you distracted, and at your 10:00 department heads meeting you found out that Whiskey was out of the office for the day. Relief washed over you, and you suddenly felt lighter. You could survive until the weekend without worrying.

The rest of your day was uneventful until around 4:00, when an assistant brought you a vase of fresh flowers that had been delivered to reception. You frowned and looked for a card. The arrangement was beautiful, featuring dark yellow daisy-shaped flowers with fuzzy chocolate brown centers, and pinky-purple blooms shaped like bottle brushes. Both types looked oddly familiar. You leaned closer to examine them as your brain twisted in confusion. Were those...? No way... orange coneflowers and dense blazing stars? Who the heck would send you an arrangement of Kentucky wildflowers? Mom? It wasn't your birthday yet.

You felt an icy ball of lead punch you in the stomach as you opened the notecard: "Even though nothing happened, I had a hell of a time. Hope to see you again. -Jack"

That motherfucker.

Just as you were about to sweep the flowers into the trash, there was a heavy knock on your doorway. You looked up, and your emotions spun from anger to elation so fast you almost threw up. Frankie stood in your doorway, looking soft and rumpled in a plaid flannel shirt with the sleeves rolled up, his sweet curls escaping the same well-loved baseball cap he always wore.

"Frankie!?" You leapt out of your chair and practically ran to him. He swept you up in a bear hug and pulled you six inches off the ground. "Oh my God, Frankie, I'm so glad to see you!"

"Hey, Paloma. I missed you. How's the big promotion? They make you head of the New York office yet?" His deep voice rumbled into your ear softly, and you laughed with joy. You never wanted to let go.

Frankie set you down and broke the embrace, and you immediately grabbed his hand and guided him to one of your visitors chairs. You took a seat in the chair next to him, turning it to face him and get as close as you dared without looking too desperate.

"Oh my gosh, what are you doing here?"

"I'm doing a quick consulting job for Statesman, helping Ginger train a few folks for an extraction. I have to work on the project Monday and Tuesday, and then I'll be in town until Saturday as a tourist. I took the whole week off, so I don't need to be back in Florida until next Sunday." He smiled broadly at you.

You felt your own face split into a wide grin. "Do you need a tour guide? I've been here two whole months. I can show you my favorite coffee shop and we could go to a few museums."

He smiled warmly back at you, and you felt like you had been wrapped in the world's softest blanket. "I'd like that. Statesman gave me an apartment for the week. Should be close by, if you don't mind showing me where it is?" He pulled a slip of paper out of his wallet and read the address.

You threw your head back and cackled.

"What's so funny?"

"That's my apartment! Statesman owns a few units in the same building." You grabbed the piece of paper from his hand to read the apartment number. "You're literally one floor below me for the week."

He grinned. "Well, shit. If I'd known that, I would’ve just told them to let me bunk with you."

You frowned and handed the paper back. "Wouldn't your girlfriend be upset with that?"

Frankie looked down at his shoes. "She's, uh, not my girlfriend anymore. We broke up."

"Oh, Catfish. I'm so sorry." You reached out to squeeze his forearm, and the feel of his warm skin over ropey muscles made you tingle. You vividly remembered how much you used to love grabbing those forearms as he pounded into you, how good they felt wrapped around you in the shower, how strong and safe Frankie felt at all times. You pulled your hand back and cleared your throat.

Frankie stood. "Listen, I gotta take care of a few things this afternoon, but can we go to dinner later? Nothing fancy, if you know anyplace I can go dressed like this," he gestured to his worn jeans and work boots.

"Unless, uh,” he pointed to the flowers on your desk. “Is there a boyfriend who would be mad if I took you out?"

You stood and smiled, biting your lip. "No. There’s no boyfriend, and I'd love to go to dinner. I'll come down to your apartment and pick you up at 7:00? 7:30?"

"Seven is perfect." He hugged you, and the smell of him spun you right back to Louisville. Frankie smelled like clean cotton and hard work, with a faint whiff of mechanic's grease just under the scent of his laundry soap and Old Spice deodorant. You used to tease Frankie about his habit of buying the same deodorant that he’d been using since junior high, but he always swatted you away with a, “If it ain’t broke, don’t fix it.” Now the scent of it made you want to buy every package in the world and always have the smell around you.

When you broke the embrace it was so hard to let go, to not lean in for a kiss like you used to. He seemed to feel it, too, lingering just a moment longer with his arms wrapped around you and smiling wistfully as you finally pulled apart. You wanted to stay in his arms for hours, maybe even stow away on his flight back to Florida.

“I’ll see you at seven, Paloma.”

You felt your goofy grin reappear. “Okay. I’m so glad you’re here, Catfish.”

---

The hours until dinner crawled, and you spent more time than you thought wise trying to get ready. You showered and put on your nicest outfit, which was really just the all-black, most-recently-purchased version of your normal work clothes. Your job at Statesman didn’t call for anything very dressy, so you hadn’t expanded your wardrobe beyond work staples. Still, you spent entirely too long arranging your hair, sweeping it one way and then the other, trying to figure out what jewelry to wear, and then changing your hair again for the third time. You were contemplating another shoe change when your phone alarm went off, warning you that it was five minutes to 7:00. Oh, well, too late to change anything now. You brushed your teeth frantically and hoped Frankie wouldn’t care.

You floated down the stairwell and found yourself grinning idiotically as you rapped at Frankie’s door. He opened it looking exactly the same as he had at 4:00 that afternoon, and you chastised yourself internally for trying to dress up. Your irritation turned to pride, however, when Frankie looked you up and down with a low whistle.

“Jeez, Paloma, you look fantastic. Should I change?” He looked worried.

“No, you look fine! We’re not going anywhere fancy, I promise. I don’t know why I changed clothes, it was silly.”

“No, you look amazing.” He opened his arms for a hug. You felt warmth rush to your face as you leaned in. Frankie was always so eager to please and to compliment you, to make you feel good. You had missed him so much.

The walk to dinner was easy, conversation bouncing between the two of you as you made your way to the restaurant. Frankie filled you in on everything going on in Florida, about his friends and his parents and his job. You spoke enthusiastically about your new position and how much you loved New York. You decided not to share information about either one of your run-ins with Agent Whiskey.

Dinner passed in a swirl of giggles and wine and good food. Frankie made you laugh so hard you almost choked twice, and before you knew it, nearly three hours had passed.

“Frankie, I think the restaurant is going to kick us out if we don’t scoot soon. Do you want to go walk around a little bit?”

He drained his water glass and nodded. “Yeah, where to?”

“We can window shop down the street, and there’s a cute little park nearby.” You arched one eyebrow at him, “Wanna go play on the swings?”

He laughed and nodded. “Yes, let’s do that.”

You fought Frankie for the bill before letting him win. “Okay, but the next one is on me, Catfish.”

When you emerged into the summer night, you both took a deep breath, trying to clear your heads of the alcohol haze. You weren’t drunk, just pleasantly buzzed and a little silly. Without thinking, you tucked your arm into Frankie’s and snuggled yourself against him as you wandered along. Store windows were lit up against the dark, and you stopped here and there to look and giggle at displays.

You paused in front of an antique store. The window behind the bars was lined in red velvet, and on each of the little red display pillows sat a piece of vintage jewelry.

You were quietly gazing at an enamel bracelet and a sparkly tiara when Frankie’s voice broke the silence.

“You ever want one of those?”

“A tiara? No. I mean, it might be fun for a hot bubble bath, but I can’t exactly wear it to work.”

“No,” he nudged your arm and tilted his chin toward the far left side of the store window. “An engagement ring.”

You froze and suddenly couldn’t breathe. Your eyes shifted to a sparkly, square-cut sapphire ring sitting on the smallest pillow. You couldn’t form rational thoughts, and you weren’t sure exactly what kind of answer Frankie was expecting.

“I mean- uh, I guess I never thought about it. I haven’t seen anyone since we-” you swallowed hard. “I’ve been single since we broke up.”

You couldn’t bring yourself to look at him, and when he didn’t respond right away you found yourself filling the silence with nervous chatter. “I mean, I tried dating but it never went past a second date, and I don’t know anyone who would propose that early, and anyway I just- I mean I didn’t think- and you left so I didn’t…” you trailed off, realizing that you weren’t making any sense.

Frankie’s voice was low and serious. “I thought about it.”

That broke the spell and you turned to face him. “You thought about it? About me?”

He looked at you, almost shy. “Yeah, I thought about it a couple of months after we started dating. But with your job and my work, and… Well, you know what happened. You were there, same as I was.” He reached out a hand to cup your chin. “I was sorry it didn’t work out for us.”

You sighed and melted into him, “Oh, Frankie.”

He wrapped both arms around your shoulders as you gripped his waist. Your mouths found each other in the dark as if your last kiss had been yesterday. Frankie was warm and solid and familiar, and you found yourself aching to hang on to him, to keep him there with you for as long as you could.

You stood on the sidewalk together for what seemed like hours, exploring each other and passing silent messages back and forth with your lips and tongues and teeth. Slow swirls of the tip of his tongue around yours told you he missed you, and the tiny nips you bit against his bottom lip conveyed an urgency, a need that you couldn't express in words. You found your fingers entwined in his belt loops, pulling him as close as you could, mimicking the kind of connection that really required nakedness and absolute vulnerability together.

You turned sideways to loop your arm around his waist and walk unsteadily back to your apartment building, stealing kisses again and again as you strolled, then paused, then continued on your way. The trip took twice as long as it should have, but neither you nor Frankie was willing to break apart for longer than it took to step down off a curb or glance at a walk signal. You just kept kissing, drunk on each other and wanting more and more; silently cursing the fact that the apartment was still so far away, but reveling in the moments that you could seize right now to embrace each other as you walked.

When you reached your block, you murmured against Frankie’s mouth. “Do you have anything? I don’t have any protection at home.”

He cursed softly, “Shit. No, I didn’t bring…” He didn’t get a chance to finish his sentence as you kissed him again.

“Don’t worry, that’s why I asked. There’s a drugstore right here.”

“I always knew-” he kissed you softly, “... that you were smarter than me.”

You giggled against his mouth and wrapped your arms around his neck. “You’re the one who can fly helicopters. I just stare at data reports all day.”

You walked into the pharmacy holding hands and made it through the checkout line in record time, urgently kissing again when you reached the sidewalk, navigating the final dozen or so yards to your building.

The elevator ride consisted of one long kiss, broken only by Frankie’s urgent, “Mine or yours?” You murmured, “Mine,” and pressed the button for your floor, folding yourself back into his arms. You unlocked your front door while Frankie held you from behind and peppered kisses down your ear and cheek and jaw, distracting you as you fumbled with your keys. When you finally got the door open, you tumbled inside together and slammed the door shut.

Now that you were someplace private, you could undress, fumbling against one another as you struggled to open buttons and zippers and bra clasps in between kisses; to continue your soft caresses while you kicked shoes and pants off and away. Finally you were both standing, wearing only underwear while you continued to embrace. You pulled away from Frankie and picked up the box of condoms where it had dropped, then you took his hand and led him to your bedroom.

You tumbled onto the bed together and continued the makeout session that had started miles away and what seemed like an eternity ago in front of the antique store window. Frankie’s strokes along your ribcage and thighs were light and almost ticklish, so familiar that you wanted to cry. You had no expectations of getting back together and attempting a long-distance relationship, but he was here right now. And that was good, right? It was familiar and lovely and sweet.

Frankie hadn’t changed a bit since you parted 10 months ago, except for a few more grays in his beard and one or two more crinkles when he smiled. You ached and ached for him, even though he was right on top of you, kissing you and touching you and murmuring your name. Your brain kept raising the idea of what would happen in a week when he had to leave, or what might have happened a year ago if Statesman hadn’t demanded so much from both of you. The knowledge that you had missed becoming Frankie’s wife because of shitty circumstances, combined with the threat of losing him again in just a few days time punched you in the throat, and a sob escaped your lips as tears sprang to your eyes.

“What’s wrong, babe? Did I hurt you?” Frankie looked you over, rolling to one side to examine your face with a worried scowl. He propped himself up on one elbow and hovered over you.

“No, I’m just-” You sniffed back another sob. “I just wasn’t expecting to see you, and I’m so glad you’re here. It’s just a lot, that’s all.”

He brushed a tear from your cheek. “We don’t have to do this right now; not if you don’t want to. I didn’t come here with the expectation that you would jump back into bed with me.”

Your heart leapt at that. Same old sweet Frankie, doing everything he could to treat you tenderly, to care for you. You knew that if you tried to explain everything you were feeling, he would probably take it personally. Frankie hated to see you hurting, and doubly so if he thought he was the one who had caused it.

“I might just need a minute. I’m okay, I promise. It’s just been a weird week.”

You decided to joke, to lighten the mood and try to ease Frankie’s worry. “My old boyfriend is back in town, and I just found out that I missed out on him being my husband, and I also kind of kissed my boss yesterday, so I’m not in a real ‘steady’ place right now.”

Frankie frowned at that. “You kissed Bill?”

“Oh, no! No, not my boss-boss.” You paused, unsure of whether or not Frankie would hate you for your next words. “I kissed Agent Whiskey.”

Frankie’s eyebrows nearly leapt off his forehead, but he didn’t sit up or let go of you. He didn’t run out of the room screaming. “Is there something I should know?”

“It was a mistake. I was in his office and I accidentally touched his crotch-” Frankie’s eyebrows raised another impossible inch as you continued, “Truly an accident, a horrible, embarrassing accident. And then I think I just felt really vulnerable and lonely and I kissed him.”

Frankie nodded. “It happens, I guess.” He looked at you tenderly. “Although I’ve never kissed my boss. He always has food in his beard.” You erupted in giggles and tucked your face against Frankie’s chest. He stroked your arm and shoulder, laughing against your hair.

Your giggles subsided, and you rolled away from Frankie, laying on your stomach and folding your arms under your chin. You sighed and turned your face to him. “I am glad you’re here, though. I really missed you.” You paused, trying to formulate your next words.

“It took me a long time to get over you, and I’m honestly not sure I ever did. If we hadn’t both had so much work and conflicting schedules, if things had been different-” Frankie leaned over and cut you off with a soft kiss.

“You don’t have to tell me how things could have been different.” He stroked your temple. “After we broke up I just couldn’t handle working around you. I didn’t hate you, I just had to leave. It hurt too much to stay.”

“I’m sorry, Frankie.”

“No, don’t apologize. It wasn’t you, it wasn’t me, it was just life.” Frankie leaned over and kissed your cheek, stroking your back with feather-light touches, raising goosebumps as silence settled over the both of you.

His touch felt amazing, conjuring electricity where his fingers met your skin. Tingles started to form in your pelvis and you found your breath shuddering in time with Frankie’s caresses. You sat up and moved to straddle him, entwining your fingers with his and pinning his hands to the bed next to his ears.

Neither one of you spoke as you rolled your hips gently on his and stole kiss after kiss, feeling his erection grow and press harder against your vulva, still separated by the fabric of both your underwear and his. Finally you broke your grip on his hands and Frankie reached up to cup your breasts. You arched your back to press yourself into his palms, and your nipples stiffened with the friction and the heat of his touch. You grabbed the backs of his hands and pressed them harder against you, as if you could multiply the sensations that were zipping through your body.

You leaned down for another kiss and then swung your leg off and over him. You stood next to the bed and pulled your panties off, then reached over Frankie to grip his waistband. He lifted his hips to assist you, and when his cock sprung free you nearly gasped at how much you missed him and missed this, the intimacy and the raw electricity and the closeness. You reached out to stroke his length a few times, running the pad of your thumb gently up the underside and over his slit. He was damp there, but not leaking yet, and you let go only to grab the box of condoms and rip it open.

“Here,” you handed him a foil packet and let him put it on. When he was covered you gripped him again and gave him three firm, slow pumps, pulling a moan out of the deepest part of his chest. You straddled him again and hovered over him, making eye contact as you lined up to insert him, taking him into the most intimate part of you. He stroked one large hand from your knee to your ass, then cupped both cheeks and pulled you slightly apart to help guide him in. You closed your eyes and let out a soft hiss as he entered. Everything felt so good and familiar, like no time had passed at all, like he had never left.

When you were fully seated on him, you placed your palms on his shoulders for leverage, watching with delight as the tendons in his neck flexed and his Adam’s apple bobbed, veins throbbing on either side of his beautiful throat as you rode him. He reached one hand down to thumb your clit, pressing and petting it and drawing whimpers from you as the pleasure swelled within you. Neither one of you spoke as you gazed into each other, moving together in a practiced rhythm, increasing the pace and the tempo and the force until you were shaking the whole bed. Then your head spun and you found yourself crying out his name as you climaxed around him. You slumped over him and buried your face in his neck, that gorgeous soft crook between his throat and his shoulder. He braced his feet and thrust up into you. Chills wracked your body as you squeezed and fluttered around his cock. He grunted and clenched his jaw, “I’m coming.” And then he pulled you closer and froze, holding you there as he filled the condom. When he relaxed his thighs and arms, you reached down and gripped the base of the condom to keep it on him as you rolled sideways and off.

You both lay staring at the ceiling, recovering your breath, trying to remember where you were and why anything outside of your shared pleasure mattered.

---

Frankie stayed at your apartment all weekend. The two of you kissed and caressed, showered and fucked, made breakfasts and dinners, watched movies and slept curled together, until you almost forgot how much you had missed each other, almost forgot the fact that he would have to leave.

On Monday you and Frankie walked to the office together and kissed at the front desk, parting ways for the day. You ran into Ginger in the hallway and squealed and gave her a hug. She smiled at you and wiggled her eyebrows. “Did you see who our consultant is for this project?”

“Yes! He came by my office on Friday and we went to dinner.” You leaned over to lower your voice and murmur, “And we spent all weekend together.”

Ginger laughed and you grinned and rolled your eyes. “It’s nice. I don’t know if we’re ‘back together’ or anything, but I’ll have fun hanging out with him while he’s here.”

Ginger bit her lip, “I’m glad. I know you guys really missed each other, but I’m happy you can see him while he’s here.”

“Me, too.”

You and Ginger made plans to have lunch together that afternoon, and your mood was light as you entered your office. It dampened a bit when you saw the flowers from Whiskey that were still sitting there. And it dropped further when you saw a note from one of your staff saying that Whiskey had requested that you come see him when you arrived this morning. You decided that you would just have to treat him like nothing had happened, and keep your head up. After all, you were on cloud nine with Frankie in town, so what’s the worst that could happen?

You found Mary’s desk empty, so you squared your shoulders and knocked on Whiskey’s door. He could try to irritate you all he wanted, but you were going to be cool as a cucumber.

When he opened the door, Whiskey grinned at you and motioned you in. You opted to stand next to his desk with your arms crossed. If this was business, you would keep it businesslike. He walked up to you and raised an eyebrow, still grinning like a fool.

You looked at him and frowned. What was his deal?

He started the conversation cryptically, “Well?”

“Well what?”

“Did you get my flowers?”

You opted for the driest tone you could, “Yes. Thank you.”

He nodded, “Good. Listen, darlin’-”

You interrupted him. “Paloma.”

“Right, Paloma. I’d love to take you out to dinner sometime and apologize again for behaving like a jackass in that meeting a few weeks back.” He placed both of his large, warm hands on your arms and squeezed. “If we could see our way clear to some kind of understanding, I think I’d like it very much if we could-” a knock on his door cut him off.

Mary opened it and stuck her head in. “Agent Whiskey? I have the consultant here for your 9:00 meeting.”

Whiskey hissed out a breath and sounded disappointed. “Right.”

You pounced on the opportunity to escape. “I’ll just get going.”

Mary opened the door all the way and Frankie walked halfway in, freezing at the sight of you and Whiskey standing so close together. Guilt creeped up, even though you had no reason to feel that way, and you fought the urge to apologize to Frankie.

You and Agent Whiskey spoke at the same time, words jumbling together as Frankie approached to shake hands with Whiskey.

“Hi, Agent Whiskey. You can call me Ja-”

“Frankie, hi. I was just-”

“Oh, do you two already know-”

“We used to-”

You found yourself standing next to them as they shook hands and sized each other up. Your own discomfort was so strong that you almost didn’t notice that they were jostling each other as if they were fighting for dominance. A strange energy settled over the three of you as they stared at each other. If you didn’t know any better, you would have said it felt like they were fighting over you.

“Whiskey, this is Frankie Morales. He and I used to work-” Frankie cut you off, something he normally would never do, and his next words mortified you.

“Paloma and I used to date when we worked together in Louisville.”

You groaned. You weren’t embarrassed that you had dated Frankie, but the less information Whiskey had about your personal life, the better.

“Is that so? Well, I didn’t know that.” Whiskey’s voice was as smooth as the leather on his couch, and he cocked an eyebrow at you. Instead of irritating you, it had the effect of sending a flutter to your crotch. You gulped, hard.

Whiskey turned back to Frankie. “Any big plans while you’re here in New York?”

“Paloma and I are going out.”

“We’re what?” Your voice was louder than you had meant it to be and both men turned to look at you. You felt stunned by the double gaze, the two pairs of dark brown eyes, the strong noses and lovely mouths; features so similar to one another now that you saw them together. Maybe Ginger was right, maybe you did have a “type.”

Your brain did a somersault, throwing up the most shocking and simultaneously wonderful idea, and you wished you could banish the thought back to whatever delicious hellhole it had sprung from. You almost burst into tears, thinking that the stress of your job had finally broken your brain. Under normal circumstances, the idea and all of its implications would have been curious, but under the current circumstances it was absolutely ridiculous. The absurd, impossible word had popped into your head entirely uninvited: “Threesome.”

Frankie and Whiskey stared at you for three long, agonizing seconds, then they both spoke the same word at the same time.

“WHAT?”

“Oh, shit. Did I say that out loud?” ---

"Paloma" Series Masterlist Just-here-for-the-moment’s masterlist

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[kybee-the-bee-cat]

Been a while since I did another OC family tree, huh? Well, continuing where we left off (except for one family tree I forgot to put in the first family tree post, which I’ll get to later), here’s the four siblings’ families. I’m deciding to do Flightstar’s in pairs as she has the longest tree out of them all (when it comes to her descendants).

I know that ‘Flaze’ isn’t a real suffix, nor does it make sense, but I named him after a character my cousin had, called Flaze. 

Actually, Remorsestar’s kits were born around the same time as Adderbark and Sparrowfeather’s. She and Marsh’heart just wanted to wait for the right time, y’know?

(This next bit is longer than I wanted it to be. I’m just saying.)

Ripplestar is the oldest of all four siblings’ kits, being old enough to be a warrior by the time the Clans were created. I don’t have a name for his mother yet, and that’s because initially, I was never going to make a mother character for him. It’s only recently that I changed my mind about that. Just because I never had the thought of her appearance yet never meant I didn’t have an idea of what her personality would be like. At first, I imagined she’d be mean and aggressive to her mate and son, and that it was the reason she never was a thing before, at least in universe. But I think I can do better than that. I’m not saying it’s a bad thing for a character to be, but I already have a character like that (two if Beesting counts. Who’s the other one? I’ll talk about her later), and I don’t think I need another one. 

Instead, I kind of like the idea that yes, she was aggressive towards her mate, but it wasn’t out of malice or ill will. During the war, she was angry with Heartstar for allowing so many cats to die for something as dumb as him wanting to lead cats. She did love him, but it was hard to support someone who was causing so many of their peers to lose their lives. And since Ripplestar was already in the picture (and young at that), she was worried that the foolishness of the grey tom might kill or seriously alter the life of their son. I might not know how young Ripple was when he broke his leg falling from a tree, but he was still young, and when the war came rolling around, he was still stuggling to make his way around. Raids on enemy shelters were not uncommon at this time, and what would happen should one happen during the time Ripple was still learning to walk with his leg like that?

The she-cat knew that was not the future she wanted for her kit, and decided to travel to Remorse’s Sanctuary (Remorsestar’s name for her shelter/home during the war). Since Remorsestar’s group weren’t participating in the war, she thought that mountain shelter was one of her son’s hopes of safety. Before the war ended, she and Ripple (who was almost at the age of warriorhood by then) intervened and tried to convince the three warring sides to stop. During those pleads, her attention was mostly on her former mate. The war may have stopped then, but she wasn’t yet willing to forgive Heartstar for doing what he did. She calmly told him that she was no longer his mate, and neither did she want to be a Clan cat. She said goodbye to the newly-named Rippleheart, telling him that if he wanted to, he could visit her in her new home (which might become twolegplace). 

(End of rambling about those characters.)

As for Duckfeather, she was born a bit after the Clans were formed. I like to imagine Palesun lived somewhere else even before the war, so she’s coming into the Clans with fresh eyes. I also like to imagine that her reasons for being with Mothstar were more about power than about him.

As for the blue line going down from Duckfeather, that’s basically me saying that I have a character from a later point that might be related to her, but I don’t know how. Maybe I’ll never know if it never becomes important (it likely won’t. Some things ar ebest kept secret after all). 

And along with that, some more trees that formed around the same time as those four:

Rowen was kind of made from scratch, because I hadn’t yet thought of a father for Turtle and Flower at the point of making this. But because I liked the name I would’ve given him, I decided to make a father character anyway. He’s not important, but he can exist I guess. I decided to make him a rogue to keep his name the way it is. Then again, what kind of name is ‘Flazeburr’?

Speaking of his name, it’s pronounced the same as “ rowan “. 

“ Then why didn’t you call him ‘Rowan’? “

I like messing with people. Besides, I kinda like messing with words like that. I don’t see anything wrong with the word ‘rowan’, but mixing things up couldn’t hurt, y’know?

Like with Ripplestar, Adderbark, and Sparrowfeather, they were born before the Clans were created, but they were too young to pick a Clan for themselves, so they ended up living with their mother in RemorseClan. When they were both older though, Flowerstorm decided she’d rather live in MothClan, and so that’s what she chose. Turtlecrawl stayed with Splitleaf.

In the cannon Warriors universe, it’s illegal for Medicine Cats to have kits. But, well, my Warriors OC universe isn’t really a part of the cannon books or universe (other than the Clans and name system), so that rule doesn’t exist here. Even if it did, I already established that Flower and Turtle were born before a code could be made. Yes, I’m implying Splitleaf was a Medicine Cat in her life (the first in fact).

Likewise, Willowleaf was also the first Medicine Cat of FlightClan. He was actually born just a little bit of moons before Heart, Moth, Flight, and Remorse’s parents, but in my defense, I decided on making him Shaggyfur’s father after making their trees.

Aww. I made Shaggyfur look cuter than I wanted him to be. He might have missing fur in some spots, but it’s still adorable :)

Speaking of which, I haven’t yet decided where he got them from. I guess he could have gotten into a fight with someone, but I also like the idea that he might have had a problem with nipping and scratching, to the point where his fur would come out. 

Shaggyfur didn’t suffer that much for his looks, but I will say that he was surprised that a cat like Firesky would fall in love with someone like him. 

Remember when I talked about what Rowen’s name was about? Yes, so Firesky and Sorrelspot both had names like that too before they got their warrior names. Sari was Firesky’s (pronounced ‘sorry’. Imagine introducing yourself with that name.), and Sorral was Sorrelspot’s (as you can guess, it was a spin on ‘sorrel’). Here’s some needless trivia: Both former names and Sorrel’s design came from some old “MLP” OCs. Since I didn’t have them anymore, I decided to have them live on in those two.  

Sharkfang was born before Witheredrose, if you’re wondering why he’s higher up than her. He was an OC I made for my sister for her birthday a while back, who’s favorite animal is the shark. I just thought that was interesting to share.

[clearlydiamondz]

Make Up For It

Erik Stevens x OC

Part ONE

p.2

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

After a year of not seeing Erik, Jada has been faced with him in a sticky situation. 

Warnings: Blood, Mention of Medical Procedure

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

Jada laid back into the bathtub, letting the smell of the sweet candles fill her senses. She needed this.. in so many ways than others. After working 12 hours all week this week in the ICU, she was finally off for the next three days. She spoiled herself with some crab legs and dirty rice. She caught up in some of her reality T.V and her favorite anime (7 Deadly Sins), and now she was relaxing in her bath tub. 

She was dozing off until she heard the noise coming from her downstairs. Instantly she jolted up. At first she just thought it was her imagination until she heard whispers. She got out the bathtub before walking into her bedroom and grabbing her pistol that her brother King, got her to protect herself. She wrapped the black robe around her body before slowly opening her door. 

She walked down the stairs, holding the pistol taking it off of safety. She turned the corner to hear the talk get louder. “I thought you said she was off these days?” She recognized that voice. It was her brother.

“I thought she was here.” She recognized that voice too. How could she not? That was her ex-boyfriend. Erik Stevens. Gosh she missed him. How could she not? They’ve been together since high school. She was his right hand women while he ran his empire. But after a really bad break up, she cut all ties with him. Now it’s been almost year since she last seen him. 

“Bruh let’s just dip.” That was a voice she did recognize. 

She turned on the lights before saying, “Give me a reason why I shouldn’t put a bullet in each of your knee caps.” she said. That was until she saw Erik and the other boy holding her brother up. “What the hell happened to him?” she said putting the gun on safety and placing it on the side table. 

“We were at the club, next thing you know gun shots were being ring. He got hit.” Erik said as she closed her eyes. He was lying out his ass. 

“Lay him down on the couch.” he was laid down as he groaned. She unbuttoned his shirt seeing the wound. “What time did this happen?”

“Not even 30 minutes ago..” her brother said as she nodded licking her teeth. 

“So you guys think I’m stupid.. right?” she said looking at the two of them. 

“What are you even talking about?”

“If this happened 30 minutes ago, why is there brown dried up blood already around the wound. And you can see around the area where the skin in starting to die.”  she said pointing it out. “I know you like the back of my hand, you’re lying to me.” she snapped standing up pointing at Erik.

“We ain’t lying it’s-”

“I’m sorry.. who are you?”  she asked the random man.

“Oh, I’m DJ.” he said as she looked between the three of them. She stood up.

“Tell me what happened.” she said looking at the three, as Erik rolled his eyes.

“Bruh we’re not fucking lying.” 

“Okay.. play dumb then. I’ma play along with ya ass.” she walked to her kitchen, grabbing her house phone dialing 911. “Wait wait, don’t call 911!” King exclaimed. He looked at Erik nodding his head. 

“We were doing a raid between one of the rivals, it went left. They hit him and we just came back into town.” Erik said as she closed her eyes. 

“Why didn’t you guys go to a fucking hospital!” she yelled at him as King scoffed.

“And risk going to jail. No thank-”

“Shut up King! Do you not understand that you could have died! I don’t give a fuck about none of that shit!” she snapped at him. King sat back, listening to his sister. “And the fuck am I suppose to do? I don’t have supplies here?” she asked Erik tilted his head in confusion. 

“What about the emergency kit we had.”

“I threw it out. Supplies in there was expired. And why would I keep knowing that you-” she stopped herself before looking at her brother. “You need to take him to the hospital. The wound is already getting affected.” she told them as King groaned. 

“Jada look, I understand you’re mad at us but-”

“This does not have anything to do with being mad, look at my fucking brother Erik.” she snapped at him.

“Jada… please. I can’t go back to jail man.” King said to her. She saw the tears building up in his eyes as she scratched her forehead. “Someone stay here with him, we can go to the pharmacy up the road to get supplies.” she said turning around. She walked back up the stairs to get dress.

“I’ll go with her.” DJ said as Erik scoffed. 

“Nah nigga.. I see the way you lookin at her and that shit ain’t happening.” Erik said. DJ stared down at Erik crossed his hands over his chest. “You tryna fuck my-”

“Aye.. first of all that’s my fucking sister you’re talking about. And two, I’m right here.” King said as Erik rolled his eyes. Jada came back down with grey stacked sweatpants, a black tank top, and black flip flops. She had a white rag in her hand before walking to King. She took off the button up as he winced out. 

“Hold this on his wound. I don’t know how much blood he lost so let’s try and keep what he has in his body please. Put pressure on it.” she told him. He followed her instructions before grabbing her keys and her gun placing it in her waistband. 

“Nah, we are driving my car-”

“Do you really think you’re in the position right now to make any decisions?” she cuts him off. Erik smacked his teeth listening to her. He’s not even going to lie, he miss this. She was the only one on planet Earth that he allowed to talk to him like that. 

“Plus, if what you said is true, there are people from the raid all over this city looking for you. You’re car is probably being searched for as we speak.” she said making her way to the garage. They got into her car, as she backed out of the driveway. They rode through the dead city, the car silent. 

“You know I didn’t mean for him to get hurt.. right?” she gripped the steering wheel, before nodding. 

“Erik I know..” she said looking at the road. “But you didn’t have to lie..” she reminded him. 

“I just know how you get when it comes down to him..” 

“Yeah but you also know that I don’t like being left in the dark.” she said pulling into the parking lot. She found a close parking spot before stepping out. He followed her inside seeing her grab the things she needed. 

“We need to stop by the hospital. There’s a couple of things that we need to get that they don’t have in here.” she said. 

After paying for everything, they made their way to the hospital. “Stay here.” he instructed her. “No I need to come with you.”

“Erik It’s fine.. I got this,” she walked into the 

“Excuse me, who are you?”

“Oh I’m the lead for the ICU unit. I left my charger in the break room and came by to pick it up.” she said as the nurse looked her up and down. 

“Yeah. Hopefully it’s still in there.” You know how people can get with their sticky fingers.” she joked as Jada chuckled. She went to the supply closet before grabbing some of the items she needed. She made her way out to the car to see Erik sitting in the car. 

“You got everything.” 

“Yeah, let’s head back.”

After this little procedure, she had them put him in one of the spare bedrooms she had in her house. She told them to leave the room so she could have privacy with her brother. She sat on the floor on the side of the bed as he looked at her. “I know this isn’t how you wanted to spend you day off.” he said to her as she nodded.

“I’m so glad you know so..” she said to him as he chuckled. 

“I’m sorry that I lied to you..” he randomly said as she chuckled. 

“I’m just glad that you’re alive...” she told him as he nodded. There was silence before he spoke up. “You know Erik still wants to be with you.” he said as she scoffed. 

“Erik is the least of my worries right now, no offense.” she told him as he chuckled. 

“I’m serious, give that nigga a chance. Do you know how much he’s obsessed with you? Asking me every other day are you okay? Do you need money? Like damn call her your damn self.” he mocked him as he chuckled. Jada looked down on at the ground playing with her hands. 

“You need to rest. I’ll be back in a few hours to refill your IV.” she told him. She kissed him on the forehead before turning the lights off and walking out his room. Erik stood on the other side of the hallway.

“How’s he doing?” 

“He’s fine, he didn’t loose that much blood thankfully.” she said. 

“That’s good.” he said putting his hands in his pockets.

“I need to talk-” “Can we talk?”

They both said at the same time. They both laughed before she said, “Let’s go to my bar and have a drink?”

They walked to her bar as she grabbed two whiskey glasses, pouring some Hennessy into each one. He grabbed it before taking a sip. “I miss you..” was all she said before he looked at her leaning against the counter. He smirked bringing the glass to his lips. 

“That must’ve been really hard to admit.. huh?” she hit him in the arm as he chuckled. He placed the glass on the counter before looking her up and down. 

“I missed you too... that whole situation spiraled outta control honestly. And it’s a shame that shit had us to stubborn to not talk to each other for almost a damn year.” he said as she sighed looking down. 

“What does that mean for us?” she asked him as he walked closer to her closing the gap. He basically towered over her making her weak in the knees. 

“I feel like we both know.” he whispered to her. “I don’t know about you, but I got a lotta of making up to do.” he said hooking his index finger along the strap of the tank top. He let it hang off her shoulder as tilted her head over. He placed soft kisses on her shoulder as she sighed in pleasure.

“I have to makeup for a birthday, valentines day.” he whispered. He undid the other strap. 

“Erik..” she whispered as he pulled away from her. 

“Can I make it up to you?”

[alpacaparkaseok]

Mine

4. Making friends 101

Genre: Yoongi x OC

Warnings: none

Word Count: 3.4k

“Have you decided what you’re going to wear to this thing?”

I nearly jump out of my skin as a wild Sebastian wanders into my room. I’m still a little on edge from the stalker a few days ago.

“What thing?” I ask, folding my clothes as I repack my suitcase. We’ll be heading out tomorrow morning bright and early for Hong Kong. It’s quite the trip from Paris, and I wish that we could have scheduled things out a bit better. We’ll be in Asia for the next three weeks before having to turn around and come back to Europe.

From there, we’ll finally head back to the states for the final stages of promotions and the premier. Nobody was too happy about the revised schedule, but neither did they dare pass up extra promotions in Asia thanks to a certain K-pop group.

“You know...this festival we’re invited to.” Sebastian makes himself comfortable on my bed, smirking at my agonizingly organized suitcase. “Don’t tell me you forgot.”

As if I could forget about that. “It’s my most reliable source of anxiety, what would I do without it?” I chuckle sarcastically as I struggle with a thick sweater that refuses to lay flat.

The film festival has been on my mind quite a lot since I first found out that we were invited to it. While now I know what really happened; that it was Kim Seokjin that invited me and not Min Yoongi, I still can’t help but feel a pang of fear every time it’s brought up.

Really, the topic of what I’m going to wear to what may be the most awkward meeting of my entire life is at the bottom of my long list of worries.

“I’ve been thinking about what I’m going to wear.”

I raise my eyebrows at my friend. This is the most he’s hung around me for the past week, and I welcome the promise of banter. Heaven knows I could let off a little steam.

“Oh? Do tell.”

Sebastian stretches like a cat on the bed and I giggle at the sight. His eyes light up when he looks at me, imagining what else he could do to make me laugh.

“Here’s what I’m thinking. People over there are...stylish. Like, they wear edgy cool clothes all the time. So I’ve got to represent, you know? I’m thinking of raiding Saint Laurent or something in preparation for this festival. It sounds like it’s a pretty big deal over there. There’s bound to be lot’s of people.”

It’s not very often Sebastian gets super into fashion, but when he does, it’s a guaranteed laugh for everyone involved.

“Saint Laurent? That’s your whole paycheck, buddy.”

“Hey! Don’t ‘buddy’ me, you little weirdo. If you’re nice to me maybe I’ll take you along.”

I roll my eyes at his offer, however tempting. “No thanks. I don’t want to look like I’m trying too hard, you know? Everyone is already expecting me to be tripping over my feet the second he walks in-”

“He? C’mon, Car. He’s not Voldemort, you can use his name.”

I flush when I realize that I’ve been purposefully avoiding speaking about Yoongi directly.

“Whatever. What I’m saying is that it’s already awkward enough. I don’t want to show up looking like a girl getting ready to go to her first prom.”

“Nonsense,” Sebastian hands me another sweater when I reach for it. “More like your second prom.”

He’s met with a sweater to the face.

“Shut up, you’re not even helping me with anything. Why are you in here?”

Sebastian makes a show of folding my sweater. “I’m in here to make sure you’re getting ready to leave tomorrow and that you aren’t passed out on the floor from anxiety or something.”

I wince from the unspoken words. Like before.

“Yeah, I’m ready. And I’m fine.”

He doesn’t look all that convinced, but lets it slide for now. “You know, things are only going to get more intense in Hong Kong. The closer we get to Seoul, the more intense things will become.”

“Not. Helping.”

🌙

I wish Sebastian didn’t have to be right all the time.

The second we get off the plane, it’s a madhouse. Like a literal madhouse. People are shoving, cameras flashing, and the questions are being yelled right into my ears. They’re mainly in English, a few in Cantonese, but there are quite a few in Korean as well. It’s easy enough for me to drown out the latter language, but the ones in English do their job well enough.

“Cara! Cara! Have you been in contact with Suga?”

“Are the two of you attending the festival together? What are you going to wear?”

“Just give us a smile, Cara! Cara!”

We don’t have a lot of security, only about three guys. Soon enough they’re surrounding me, and I am being moved along within a sea of black clothing and mumbled orders. I’m just able to crane my neck to see Sebastian pushing through the mess of reporters, tugging Rhea along behind him. She catches my eye contact and waves me forward.

I fight against the pang of guilt that hits me as I realize that this is all because of me. Never did I think that things would get this bad. I never thought that I would have to be surrounded on all sides by bodyguards.  

By the time we’re shoved into the car waiting for us outside, I’m out of breath and so is everyone else.

Sebastian and Rhea share my car with me. I’m not sure whether I should try to sleep or apologize or resign-

“Cara?” Rhea’s hand grips mine as she gives me a reassuring squeeze. “You ok?”

I give her a shaky nod. “Y-yeah. I think I’m fine. We’re just going to the hotel, right?” I give out a sigh of relief when she confirms. Good. I could use a bed right around now. Especially because we spent a good chunk of our flight going over the promo schedule for Hong Kong and it looks like it’ll be pretty much nonstop starting tomorrow morning.

I hate to ask, but I also know that if there’s another stalker waiting for me in my rooms I won’t be able to sleep at all, no matter how tired I feel.

“Could we...check my room-”

“Already on it,” Rhea says with a sympathetic smile. “I sent a couple of people ahead of us to check all the rooms out. They should be done before we even get there, no worries.”

I relax a little, thanking her for her foresight. We fall into a groggy silence after a bit, the car ride from the airport to the hotel being about thirty minutes. Hong Kong is small, but it’s packed. With it comes traffic and bright shiny buildings that I can’t help but gawk at.

For living in the big city of Seoul for two years, I can’t help but be amazed at big cities like Hong Kong. They never get old.

I’m so distracted by those shiny buildings that I almost don’t notice my phone lighting up with an incoming call. Its vibrations finally pull me from my daze, and I smile as Bong-cha’s photo smiles up at me.

I took the photo for her on her first day of school after she changed programs. She’s grinning like an idiot in front of an intimidating building, holding up a big thumbs-up. Bong-cha has always hated the photo. She says she looks like a kindergartener on her first day of class. I agree, which is why it’s my contact photo for her. Purely just to piss her off.

“Wow the love of my life is calling me again? You must really miss me.”

Bong-cha’s laugh is either a beat too late or a touch too loud, but I notice it immediately. The knots in my stomach that were just beginning to untie themselves suddenly tighten up again.

“Yah, have you landed?”

Oh, right. I was supposed to text her when I landed. “Umm...yes. A little while ago. We’re in the car now.”

“I knew you’d forget to text me. You always do.”

“Hey, that’s not true! And you can’t blame me this time. The airport was a mess. I hardly had enough time to whip my phone out and text you when people were trying to claw their way down my throat.”

Again, she’s a second late in responding. “It was really bad, then? I was worried about that. You have bodyguards, right?”

“Yeah, we do. Just three, though. I felt bad, I had to ditch the rest of the crew to walk between the bodyguards. Everyone else had to fend for themselves.”

Now it’s silent for more than a few seconds, but something that sounds like hushed voices breaks it.

“That sounds hor-”

“Bong-cha, what’s going on over there? Are you at work or something?”

It’s as though I break some sort of spell, because suddenly a laugh tears through the silence, but I know it doesn’t belong to my friend.

Last I checked she doesn’t sound like a windshield-wiper when she laughs.

There’s something about it that has me furrowing my brows in a mixture of confusion and anger. Rhea and Sebastian share a look, not entirely sure what’s going on in my conversation but understanding my expression.

Bong-cha is in the middle of trying to explain. “Well, yeah, I’m at work. We got to talking about you traveling today and the boys wanted me to call you and check in on you and-”

“Am I on speaker phone?” Again, silence. I’m getting real sick of the silence. “Kim Bong-cha, I swear if you put me on speaker without even telling me, I’m going to catch the next flight to Seoul and-”

“Aaand there’s the Cara I know and love!” Bong-cha interrupts, confirming my fears. I’m definitely on speakerphone. “Please, we both know you’re too busy with work to come over here, even if it’s for a good cause like the one I’m sure you were about to explain. Also, the boys say hi.”

The boys. She says it so casually, as if we all went to high school together and are just checking in with each other to see how life has been.

“The boys? Like, all the boys? Also, you only called me because they told you to, and not because you were genuinely concerned for me? I see how it is, Bong-cha. That’s low.”

Before my friend can defend herself I hear a voice that sounds too much like a certain Kim Seokjin.

“You’re right, she is funny!”

I snort, fighting the blush on my cheeks. Am I really on the phone with BTS? What world is this?

“Is that Seokjin?” Even just saying his name makes me feel like a giddy middle schooler.

“Yeah,” Bong-cha responds.

“Well, you’d better watch out Seokjin. Once I’m done beating Bong-cha I’m coming after you.”

“M-me?” Jin has the sensibility to sound a little scared. “Why me?”

A dry laugh sounds, but I can’t tell who it belongs to. Few others have such a distinguishable laugh as Kim Seokjin.

“Bong-cha told me that it was you who started this whole mess with the film festival! Do you know how much anxiety you’ve caused me?!” My anger from this entire mess infuses me with more boldness than I could have mustered in this situation otherwise.

There’s some scuffling noises on the other side of the line, followed by a few grunts. Jin shouts in disdain.

“Yah! I was just trying to help! You’ll be thanking me!” A door slams, blocking out any further shouts from the man. I can’t hide the grin that splits across my face as I imagine what must be going on over there.

“Ok, he’s gone. I’ve banned them all from this room for the duration of this call.” Bong-cha reassures me. “I don’t have a lot of time, but I was calling to ask you something, actually. Don’t feel any pressure, but I think it may help relieve some stress on both sides-”

“What are you getting at, Bong-cha?”

She takes a deep breath. “Is it alright if I give Yoongi your number?”

My jaw falls open. I’m about to freak out when I realize that there’s a small chance that somebody may still overhear me on the phone. Barely composing myself, I respond to my friend, ignoring the obvious shake in my voice.

“Does he actually want it? Because it sounds like all of this has been thrown on him as much as it has me.”

“Er...yeah. He wants it. He was trying to ask about you today, but in that way where he doesn’t want it to look like he’s asking about you, you know? So I finally told him that he should just get your number so he quits bothering me about it. It’s been like this all week. So I figured I’d just give it to him, if you’re alright with it?”

In most situations, I know what to say. I’m usually pretty good at coming up with something to say in order to keep the conversation flowing. Maybe when Graham Norton dropped the bomb on me about Yoongi, I wasn’t the best at it but I at least inserted little comments here or there.

Now, I’m not really sure what to say anymore. It seems that the second I begin to relax and feel like I’m finally getting a handle on this, something happens.

It’s that same fear that I’ve had since I was a child kicking back in. It seems silly, in a time like this. I’m a completely different person since then, in a completely different environment. And yet, that fear that I’ve carried with me all my life comes bubbling back up to the surface.

“Bong-cha…” I struggle to keep a neutral expression as I’m aware that I’m not alone in the car. “I’m not very good at making friends.”

Any other person would be quick to jump in and reassure me. Any other friend would race to recall experiences that would prove my claim wrong.

I guess that’s why Bong-cha is my best friend. She doesn’t do any of those things, instead quietly listening and thinking before she responds.

“You know, Cara…” she begins in a sincere tone. “Maybe that’s not the point. Maybe you’re not meant to be amazing at making friends. But you’re really good at letting people be friends with you. Which, honestly, is a talent. A weird, obscure one, but a talent nonetheless.”

What’s meant to be a laugh comes out more as a sigh of relief. Bong-cha always knows what to say.

“I’m going to do some research on that talent, because I’ve never heard of it before.”

“So...are you alright if I give it to him? I think he wants to just apologize to you more than anything. I swear he won’t be weird with it.”

I chew on the inside of my cheek, mulling it over. Honestly, at this point, what do I have to lose?

“Yeah, go ahead.”

🌙

I’ve barely lugged my suitcase inside and collapsed on the bed when the first text comes through. I immediately jump up, senses on high alert. It would be a lie if I said that I haven’t been on edge just waiting for my phone to ding ever since I got off the phone with Bong-cha. Bracing myself for the bite of disappointment when it’s the “Young Rising” group chat, my heart nearly stops when I see it’s an unknown number. 

UNK: Is this Cara? 

UNK: This is Bong-cha’s friend, she gave me your number.

“Ah, he’s smart,” I note as I realize he didn’t give me his name just in case he mixed up the numbers. I quickly save his number in my phone, the action making me feel a little strange. 

ME: Yes, this is Cara. 

I overthink the four-letter message for way too long before I press send. I sound cold, but I don’t know what else to say. It doesn’t take long for three dots to appear on the screen. 

“Oh, no. He’s typing. What do I do if he’s typing?”

 I’m ashamed to admit that I consider chucking my phone out the window for more than thirty seconds. Only the ping of my phone stops me in my train of thought. 

MYG: Have you made it safely to your hotel?

I blink at his message. The fact that I really don’t know this man at all is hitting me like a ton of bricks. He seems kind though...from the twenty or so words he’s typed. That’s all you need to judge someone’s character, right?

ME: Just made it, actually. 

Pausing, I quickly type out a message before he can respond.

 ME: No need to worry

Well, if this isn’t the most dry conversation the earth has ever witnessed. I cringe when I see the three dots pop up again. He’s probably thinking the same thing and is looking for a quick way to end this entire conversation. 

MYG: Good, although I think I may need to worry. It sounds like the airport was out of hand today. 

ME: ...were you eavesdropping on my conversation with Bong-cha?

MYG: Speaker phone doesn’t count as eavesdropping.

ME: It does if the person doesn’t know she’s on speaker!

I have to wait nearly five minutes before he responds again, and the tell-tale ping of my phone has me rushing over to where I left my phone on my nightstand, leaving my toothbrush on the bathroom counter.

MYG: I’ve thought about it, and I think I need to apologize for eavesdropping on your conversation with Bong-cha earlier today.

 ME: That was easy.

MYG: I think I’ve made things difficult enough for you, don’t you think?

Huffing out a laugh, I nod in agreement. 

ME: You have.

When more than ten minutes pass without a reply, I convince myself to take a shower. Then I persuade myself to stand in the shower for more than three minutes, even though I’m itching to see if he’s replied yet.

Fifteen minutes later there’s still no reply. Cozying under the covers I stare at my phone, answering a text from Bong-cha asking if Yoongi has texted me yet.

Even though I’m a fan of the band, I can’t say that I’ve ever really gone out of my way to learn a lot about them. Beyond the music, I know very little.

At least, that’s the excuse I give myself as I watch video after video about Suga: the biggest baddest soft boy in the universe.

It’s nearly two in the morning before I force myself to put my phone down and get some rest. The thought that maybe my text came off more harsh than I intended it to has crossed my mind several times, but it’s too late now to try to take it back.

It’s nearly four in the morning when the sound of my phone vibrating drags me out of my slumber. Groggily, I reach for my phone, hissing as I hit my elbow on the nightstand.

“You’ve got to be kidding me,” I groan, squinting at my phone. “I swear, if it’s Bong-cha at this time of night…”

MYG: I’m sorry.

MYG: I’m trying to fix this, thank you for being so kind and patient. Things will get better.

MYG: You don’t have to come to the festival, just so you know. Let me know, and we can cover for you somehow. Make up an excuse. Don’t feel like you have to come, or even speak to me. I’ll understand.

MYG: Sorry for texting so late! I just realized what time it is. Go to sleep. Sorry if I woke you up.

MYG: Sorry.

I’m caught between feeling choked up about the apology and trying to even wrap my mind around the fact that Min Yoongi is up in the middle of the night typing out an apology text to some girl he’s never met.

“Who even are you? Who does this?”

Hardly trusting myself to write back a proper reply, I squint into the screen as I hesitantly type letter by letter. Writing in Korean at four in the morning is not one of my strong points.

ME: I think I’m more exhausted by the amount of times you just said sorry than with what time it is. Go to sleep, Yoongi.

It takes all of thirty seconds for a reply to come through.

MYG: 😅 I guess good morning, Cara.

ME: Good morning, Yoongi.

I fall asleep watching the three dots on my phone appear and disappear as Min Yoongi ponders what next to say in this unlikely forming friendship.

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[skampi835]

Peevish Herbs and Sassy Medicine (Ieyasu x OC)

This is a chapter from one of my bigger fanfictions, I’m writing. But I’m too shy to post the whole thing anywhere... (because I’m doubting myself and my english too much)

But I’m quite pleased with this oneshot (so I corrected and re-readed it multible times)! Have fun while reading! I hope you’ll enjoy.

The scene takes place one day after arriving in Azuchi so it’s not the first encounter with Ieyasu, but their first... well... kind of conversation?

Fandom: Ikemen Sengoku

Language: english

Starring: Ieyasu x OC

Genre: Comedy

Warning: none

Word Count: 2.900

“Hey there, Ina! Masamune invited me to a stroll into town. I’m sure you’re not in the mood since your face is still puffy and all. So I understand when you don’t want to. I just leave you a note, so you know he’s looking out for me. cya!”

  Oh well... it’s all right... I guess. Have a nice time, Rei -- WithOUT me!

Exasperated Ina’s sitting by the table in their room. Narrowing her grey blue eyes, she’s analyzing over the letter again, and yes, she's actually analyzing every single word. The female also would have loved to go strolling into town. Because she felt asleep during the ride back to the castle, she hasn't yet seen anything from it. Adventuring with her dear friend - and crony from the future - Rei, would have been so much fun, besides the puffy face Ina had because of mister spooky guy!

Stealing my friend on the first day, huh? Sneaky Masamune...

Absently Ina’s reaching for the sweets Masamune had brought over before he'd so casually took up her friend. Munching over them the sweet taste of the incrediences spreads over her tounge and she couldn’t help but feel a little bit guilty for her thoughts, while she's dreamily enjoying the treats. They are sooo delicious! Ina has never expected that! Didn't Masamune mentioned, he has made them himself? How amazing!

“I’m not in the mood anyway.” Ina says somewhat confident to herself, while eating the sweets happily. But what is she supposed to do after? Hideyoshi had sent her away before, to handle Ranmaru and like he said she wasn’t given free access to the castle or it’s staff. Heavily Ina sighs after finishing the last mochi.

Her vision’s crossing Rei’s letter again.

You know what? What Hideyoshi doesn’t know won’t hurt him!

  _____

Armed with a wipe and a bucket filled with water, Ina’s entering the archives. Her eyes are scanning her surroundings in which the massive shelves flank the room. Particles of dust are lightly dancing in the rays of shining sunlight from the small window above her, like illuminating sparks. Lanterns are shimmering luminously the walls, uncovering heavy, valuable looking tapestries. Great shelves are arching under the sheer weight of the books, scrolls and other stuff that they store. The smell of parchment and ink fills the the dusty air.

Ina’s truly impressed about the enourmus mass the archive is holding. She hasn’t expected seeing something like this in this time, when books and great knowledge should be merely rare.

“Hello?” Ina waits and listens after raising her voice. She wants to be sure, that there’s nobody else here, particulaly Hideyoshi, who would’ve bickered with her, why she’s even in there. The perfect silence remains at first, when she catches on a brief clink and a brushing tone.

Looking around, Ina quickly finds the source of the sound, when she’s seeing a little bird over the window. It disappears under the ceiling, before returning and it finally flies away.

Phew, just a birdnest in the ceiling, I guess.

Closing the door behind, Ina’s passing the shelves. Her eyes are flying over the spines of the books and scroll, astonished and visibly impressed. Originally planned she would have use the wipe to dust the inside, but Ina is way too stunned about the fullness of the archives. Though she has trouble in reading them, the female is concentrating on the written characters.

Honestly Ina curses herself, for not being more intent, when she learned kanji for her trip to Japan. And now she can’t barely read anything at all, because the letters are looking not just foreign, but alien.

The bookshelves are rowing the walls and even outlining in the middle, separating the room into three small sections. It’s not nearly enough to call it a library, like Ina’s uses to know from her own time, but it definitely amazes her.

She’s stopping at a table, which she brushes the dust off with the wipe. Placing the bucket at the corner, Ina turns to dust the nearest shelf as well, though the oddly sensation of the knowledge the archives are holding, is attracting her like magic and get the better of her.

Abandoning her good intentions of cleaning, Ina’s facing the nearest shelf. Some of the scrolls look pretty old, though most of the books don’t. Curiously Ina leans nearer so she could read the headlines on the spines, though she has huge problems deciphering them.

... You know what? When I’m about to spent my upcoming three months here, I could at least do something useful and learn something new. Didn’t Nobunaga say I could just spend my time in Azuchi, doing girly stuff??

Not sure if reading is that kind of girly stuff, Nobunaga was talking about, Ina's concentrating on reading the characters. She truly holds a big interest in the use of medicine in these time period. Even in her present day, the european medicine often implies alternative Chinese medicine as a support. What’s the difference between Japanese and Chinese medicine and their herbs, she wonders?

She just has to find the right section where she can find those books and then... well, maybe Rei will help her read them! So Ina hopes... Nonetheless Ina's determining sure in becoming better with reading, when she’ll try.

Looking over her shoulder to make sure she’s still alone, Ina’s taking a deep breath. With narrow eyes Ina reads slowly and aloud: “’Mental Honor’... ‘Fall of Hogan-Ji’,... ‘The Art of War’... - oh wait, I think I actually know this book!”

“Would you mind, being quiet?”

The sullen hiss that suddenly sounds from not that afar startles Ina nearly to death. An anxious meep slips through her lips while giving a jerk. Rapidly blinking Ina’s listening to the remaining silence bewildered. “Eh... Hello?” Unsure she asks. Ina was certain, that she had been alone! Yet someone noticed her poor reading!

Silence...

And a quiet grunt.

Slowly Ina reaches about two books before her and shoves them gently to the side. A peevish Ieyasu’s frowning annoyingly at her from the other side of the bookshelf.

Embarrassed, Ina is sheepishly gazing back at him. “What are you doing here?”

“What does it look like? Reading in silence.” was his curt answer.

“And why didn’t you just answer when I've entered? You have really startled me.” Shame’s  uncomfortably heating her head and Ina truly feels like an idiot. Though Ieyasu doesn’t seem to notice, while he's gazing tiredly back at her through the hole in the shelf. “I didn’t thought you’re actually going to stay.”

What kind of reason is that?

When Ina met Ieyasu the first time, she felt more like encountering a spikey raid boss with venom abilities:

Yesterday

Curiously Ina’s watching the other man, with bright, tousled hair. He’s smaller than Mitsunari and Mitsuhide. Though to be honest, being taller than Mitsuhide would be quite the challenge! Yet Ieyasu nearly seem to be petite, just looking at her with sharp green eyes.

Since Ina's the foreign here, she’s feeling the urge in doing the first step. It couldn’t hurt to be on good terms with the guys here, even if at least one of them is a shady tease. “Hello, my Name’s Ina. Nice to meet you.”

Ieyasu's inclining his head, slightly narrowing his eyes skeptically. “You don’t look as I imagined.” He says and leaves Ina quite puzzled. “Pardon, but what do you mean?”

“You look terribly pitiful.” Ieyasu bluntly retorts. Wow... that one quickly turns out to be a salty one... They've hardly talked, yet Ina got the feeling he doesn’t like her.

“How intent of you, Lord Ieyasu.” Mitsunari beams with a stunningly gentle smile and nods towards Ieyasu. “Lady Ina sure needs some rest after that long horse ride and the harsh night she’d just had. I guess a bath will also help her to ease.”

Ina always felt at calm, when she looks at Mitsunari’s calm and angelic smile since arriving in this era. Mitsunari’s by far the nicest person she’s ever met, even in her own time! But in this moment Mitsunari’s tender words and soft smile doesn’t seem to convince Ina. Glancing haltingly back at Ieyasu, as he grumpily rolls his eyes with a snort, confirms Ina in her assumption. Ieyasu wasn’t intent at all... He just was rude!

“Whatever.” Ieyasu says with an annoyingly heavy sigh and is glancing back at Ina. “You don’t need medical treatment, do you?” he asks.

After blinking confused about his sudden offer, Ina shakes her head. “No, thank you. I’m fine, just a little bit tired.”

“Good.” Ieyasu nods and is walking away without another word. Ina carefully follows his steps with her grey blue eyes.

“Lord Ieyasu is also a vessal of Lord Nobunaga. And I can quite tell that he likes you.” Mitsunari’s smiling warmly at Ina, while she peers at him doubtfully. “Uhm sure... If you say so.” Ina surely wasn’t sure though.

Still looking at Ieyasu, Ina’s wondering if he has another of his bad moods. By the looks of him, he’s not in a good mood by any means. “Will you stop staring at me?” Ieyasu brusque retorts and pulls Ina out of her thoughts. “It’s hard to concentrate.”

“Ahm I-... Sorry Ieyasu.” Ina quickly says and is bashfully tousling her hair. “I... was looking for a book earlier to read.”

“That stammering didn’t sound like you could read at all.”

Ina’s opening her mouth in attempt to defend herself. But she couldn't tell him, that she’s used to read in another language with different alphabetic characters! Nonetheless she is able to read at all!

Okay Ina, be nice to him. Maybe he’ll understand.

“I-- err... am not used to it. Reading I mean. But I like to study.”

“Are you an idiot?” Ieyasu scoffs monotonously. “How can you study if you’re not able to read?”

Ina’s face darkens a tiny bit, gritting her teeth. Because of Sasuke she can’t tell him the truth and it might be better that way. So she’s avoiding strange questions or worse the dungeons, because when she's not declaired crazy she might would be claimed a spy. With a silent sigh Ina’s rounding the shelf to face Ieyasu. He’s sitting by an table with a pile of books. Next to him a brush, ink stone and blank papers. “Even if I’m not a good reader, I’m willing to lean it. I just like to learn.”

Not having the barrier of a shelf between them any longer, Ieyasu’s dropping his gaze to his books. “Then do it muted and elsewhere. You’re interrupting my studies.”

Puzzled Ina’s blinking a few times, while Ieyasu does his best to intent she’s not even here anymore. “Excuse me. I guess I’m confused. I thought you warlords don’t study anything else then strategy or warfare.”

Ieyasu’s peering coldly at her. The unspoken question ‘Are you an idiot?’ clear written in his annoyed face. A sudden rush of embarrassment is rushing Ina's face again, because of her own flawing logic. The sudden time travel thing might was really too much for her. Apologetically Ina raises her hands. “I am sorry. I spoke out of mind.”

“Stop chitchatting. It’s one-sided.” Ieyasu snarls, still piercing Ina with his sharp green eyes, and is sending an enormous wave of aversion towards her, before continuing writing with a brush.

... be nice to him, Ina. He doesn’t understand. But how could he possibly understand?

Ina can’t blame him. Her attitude must be awkward for him. She should be a normal girl from a village that’s not pointed on any map. Without Rei she feels so lonely and lost in this role though. For Rei it's easier pretending to be someone else. She's fitting for acting. Meanwhile Ina’s feeling like stumbling from one puddle to another.

With the attempt of apologizing, Ina’s bowing her head, when she caught sight of an open book on the table. She knows the drawing from her earlier times, when she was in nursing school. It was short theme back then. It shows with dots the spots of particular nerves which could be stimulate to relieve pain. “Oh, is this... about medical practices?”

Ieyasu almost leans back overly hurried, when Ina’s leaning eagerly forth to get a closer look of the page. Knitting his brows, he snorts “And if it is?”

“I--...” Ina’s quick thinking of a way to explain it to him that wouldn’t sound too awkward. For she can’t tell him, that she’s a nurse either. Propably he wouldn’t even know what a nurse is. Sheepishly she smiles: “Sometimes I helped the medics in my hometown.”

Pointing on the drawing with the nerve between thumb and index finger, Ina continues: “When you stimulate this nerve with pressure or a needle, you effectuate some linking to heal headache. But mostly headache comes off when you drink too less. Also you might try to bind fresh peppermint in a wet towel and place it your nape, because of the--”

Before Ina finishes her word, she’s stopping, facing the blankly looking Ieyasu. He even looks a little surprised in the flicker of the lanterns. “You know... western techniques?” He’s asking perplexing sincere.

Ina knows, that she’d spoken too much, that is why, she’s awkwardly tousling her hair again: “Ah I- no. Not really I just know a little about bit. You know my village lays really behind of the mountains.”

Ieyasu’s staring at Ina with puckered brows. Though after a while, he scoffs and draws his book from her. “I thought so.”

Slightly frustrated Ina’s clenching her hands under the table. Ieyasu had called her pitiful before. And a waif at the council. But it would be way too suspicious, if she would offer him to explain some medicine practices she knows from her time. Medicine no one in this time would ever believe will exist someday! For a short moment Ina has thought, that might be a thing they could share. That Ieyasu might be a little nicer to her, if she’ll show her interest. Still Ina’s determined to learn something about the traditional eastern medicine. “Hey? Maybe you could teach me a little, Ieyasu?” Ina’s asking with a consolidative smile.

Raising his head, Ieyasu’s staring at Ina intensly: “No.” and declines quickly.

Shot down in an instand. Encounter Boss is reaching the enrage timer!

“I understand.” Ina slowly nods. “You have important things to do and I’m robbing your spare time you have, huh?”

Ieyasu doesn’t answer, but he doesn’t even have to. According to Rei, he’s the one who will unify Japan. Technically speaking he’ll finish, where Nobunaga and Hideyoshi failed. But in this time as well? Even when Nobunaga's still alive? Again Ina fears for the trouble she and Rei have already caused in messing with the time. “I’m sorry for disturbing you. I’ll leave you to your studies then. Though do you mind helping me to find a book about local herbs? I guess that’ll be a good start for me.”

Ieyasu, understandable deeply annoyed in the meantime, is frowning at Ina. “No. Go find it on your own.”

Knitting her brows Ina’s looking questioning at Ieyasu. Peevishly he's mirroring her.

... You are just rude again! You know what? I don’t need to play nice, when you’re not even trying!

“Fine.” Ina’s saying provocatively loud, while standing up. “I shall go and find my them on my own then.” Sassily she’s emphasising every syllable and faces the books in the shelf next to her. With ostentation she’s pointing a finger on the spines of the books and reads loudly with her utterly bad reading skills: “‘Forged in Iron’..., ‘Forming Armor’,... ‘Art of Forging’... Huh, I might be in the wrong section here.”

“... Stop.”

Ieyasu jumps onto his heels, grumpily snorting as he passes Ina. He walkes determined right to a shelf on the wall and is directly dragging three books out of it. He spins around and is pressing them into Ina’s arms. Dumbfounded she’s catching them. “Thank-...”

“Sod off!”

With his hand on her back Ieyasu’s pushing Ina through the archives and shoves her out. Ina nearly stumbles over her feet into the hallways, the books bedded against her chest. She turns to face Ieyasu, but he has already closed the doors.

I got kicked out...! Well... I guess I deserve this. At least now Ieyasu has a reason for hating me.

Ina sighs in frustration, glancing down to the books she’s still holding in her arms.

‘Plants and Herbs’, ‘Medical Plants’, ‘Poisons and Antidotes’.

Ina’s nibbling her lip, when she silently reads the headlines of the books Ieyasu has shoved towards her. Well at least he did help her. After she has practically annoyed him into exhaustion, that is.

I’ve never felt so guilty in my life before...

A part of Ina thinks that it was okay, because Ieyasu owes her one for his utterly grumpy attitude towards her. An eye for an eye. But another part of her hopes that she could make it up to him soon. She doesn’t want to be on bad terms with anyone here.

Bedding the books against her chest again, Ina’s walking back the hallways to her room. From the open veranda she’s glancing over the gardens, whereas the sun sinks, immersing the sky brightly in orange and red colors.

[wiypt-writes]

Stark Spangled Banner

One Shot: Vanilla

Summary: A year on the run following the events in Siberia has changed Steve…but not too much. He’s still a man of simple tastes… Warning:  Language, SMUT (NSFW, 18+)

Pairings: Steve Rogers x OFC Katie Stark.

A/N: This sits alongside SSB Ch 35: Not A Perfect Soldier, But A Good Man. I had it in my head for a while and couldn’t quite fit it in. And those of you who read “Leave No One Behind” might recognise a little of the scenery, so to speak.

Disclaimer: This is a pure work of fiction and classified as 18+. Please respect this and do not read if you are underage. I do not own any characters in this series bar Katie Stark and the other OCs. By reading beyond this point you understand and accept the terms of this disclaimer.

Stark Spangled Banner Masterlist // Main Masterlist

August 2017

Another day, another under-the-radar mission. This one breaking up a gang that had been terrorising locals, running guns and arms, raiding local refugee camps and kidnapping children to ship out to god knows where, for god knows what.

Frankly, it had knocked Katie sick, so she had been only too glad to get out of there once they’d ‘dispensed’ the ring leader into the care of Fury’s contacts. Well, by that they mean they’d left him hog tied in the middle of the African desert at the co-ordinates they had been given. What happened to him, well, even the world’s sentinel of justice, honour and truth couldn’t find it within him to give a shit. Not after what they’d just seen anyway.

Katie stole a glance at Steve as they drove the ‘borrowed’ jeep back to where Sam had landed their jet. Their time on the run had hardened him. Over a year now spent in shadows, and it was almost as if those shadows had claimed part of him for themselves. His hair was longer, far longer, usually worn pushed back off his face but the exertion of the fight they’d just had, left the front strands flopping over his sweaty forehead. His beard was dark, and thick, speckled with the odd bit of copper and blonde here and there, hiding his jawline entirely and leaving his face almost completely unrecognisable.

To the average man on the street he looked like just another person, maybe worthy of a second glance for bearing a passing resemblance, maybe, to the fugitive Captain. The one thing that remained unchanged were his eyes. Whilst they were tired, carried a heavier burden than before, they were still the same eyes Katie had noticed and fallen in love with, and they still flashed with warmth and a sparkle whenever he looked at her.

And as long as that was there, she knew he was okay.

They reached the jet, Sam hopped down from the back of the jeep and headed in first over to the coms system, swiping at the screen.

“Hey, Steve?” He turned to his head back over his shoulder. Steve walked up the ramp, looking at Sam expectantly. “Fury’s patched us through the co-ordinates of a place to stay. Looks to be a hundred or so miles North. Might be worth holding up there for the night?”

Steve hesitated for a while, they’d been running missions back to back now for almost three weeks. He was desperate to get back…well, home he supposed. To their cottage in Scotland where they’d holed up for the past twelve months, where Wanda was currently waiting. But, as he glanced around, Sam’s face was sporting a nasty gash above his eyebrows, Natasha had taken a few hard digs too and was clutching her side and Katie had taken a heavy blow to the face, the bruise already forming on her cheek.

They were tired, whacked, maybe it was best they got their heads down and headed back in the morning.

“Alright.” Steve nodded. “Bring it up on the map.” Sam pressed a few buttons and then the holo-display sprang to life. Steve and Natasha observed the image, Natasha pointing to something, Steve agreeing before he straightened up and looked at Katie and Sam who were waiting patiently. “We were just staying it looks like a good spot we can land the jet. There’s nothing for miles, and it’s coastal.” “Coastal?” Katie frowned, before her eyes lit up “Like, there’s a beach?”

“Yeah.” Steve smiled, not bothering to point out that their cottage in Scotland basically had its own private one. “There’s a beach, Sweetheart.”

“It looks to be an old Diving Resort on the Red Sea.” Natasha mused, swiping at the screen. “According to Fury, one of his contacts in Mossad said they used it as a front for smuggling Jewish Refugees out of Ethiopia. Operation Brothers. You heard of it?”

Katie, Sam and Steve both exchanged glances before they shrugged.

“Not surprising, I think the information surrounding it was only declassified recently.” Natasha scratched her neck as she straightened up. “Long story short they saved thousands of lives. Smuggled refugees out of camps, and then shipped them out by boat back to Israel.”

“And they used a hotel as a front?” Katie arched an eyebrow.

“Diving resort.” Natasha nodded “Was fully functional too. Pretty damned clever if you ask me.”

“Is it safe?” Steve asked.

“Fury wouldn’t tell us to head there if it wasn’t” Katie replied simply, “We can go, check it out. If we don’t like it we can head home.”

***** Sam landed the jet expertly on the beach which was hidden in a large cove. They stepped off the ramp onto the sugar white sand and Katie looked around at the various huts scattered along the shore. The main body of the hotel itself seemed to be boarded up. The four of them split up into two groups of two under Steve’s instructions, and made their way around, carefully, making sure there was no one else there, checking each out building thoroughly. Eventually they met one another at the front of the sandstone building, all nodding to signal that there was no sign of anyone else.

“The Red Sea Diving Resort.” Sam read the faded red lettering over the top of the boarded up entrance “Imaginative.”

Katie gave a scoff as she shook her head “Well I don’t know about any of you lot but I need to wash up and get changed. I’m disgustingly hot in this.” She pulled at the collar of her combat-top and turned to head back towards the jet. Steve caught her up, sliding an arm round her waist and pressed a gentle kiss to her temple.

“We haven’t forgotten.” Sam called from behind them. They both stopped and Katie glanced at Steve who met her puzzled look with one of his own.

“Forgotten what?” He asked as they turned to look at Sam.

Sam blinked, then turned to Natasha who gave a snort “Clearly they have.”

“Have what?” Steve pressed again, his tone slightly less patient than it had been.

“It’s your wedding anniversary you pair of dumbasses.” Sam snorted “God you two are…”

Clearly he couldn’t decide what it was that Katie and Steve were, instead he trailed off and headed up the ramp into the jet. Natasha followed him as Katie and Steve remained on the sand, simply looking at one another, before they both burst out into laughter.

“Oh my God.” Katie stuttered “We forgot!”

“Well, we have kinda been busy, Doll.” Steve teased, before he shook his head and smiled “I haven’t forgotten that day though. Happiest day of my life.”

Katie smiled, “Mine too.”

He gently raised her hand to his mouth, brushing her knuckles with his mouth before they too headed onto the ramp and grabbed their kit bags.

The four ex-agents walked down the sand, towards the huts they had checked earlier. They selected one each, the fact that Natasha and Sam headed a little further down the beach away from the one Steve had picked for him and Katie didn’t go unnoticed by the super soldier. Something Steve had noticed when he had looked around was how reasonably clean it was. He’d expected things to be covered in a layer of dust but it was fairly habitable. As Katie set about searching the drawers for something to make the bed with, he headed into the small bathroom at the back, turning the taps on. After an initial cough and a splutter, the system kicked in and the water began to run. Orange from sand and rust at first as it splattered the white porcelain bowl. Steve left it going whilst he moved back into the main room and saw Katie was holding what looked like an old polaroid photo.

“Look at this.” She smiled gently. “I found it when I was looking for some bed sheets.”

Steve glanced down at the photo which showed a tall dark haired, bearded man stood with his arm round a shorter, dark haired slim woman, both looking at the camera, smiling . At their feet sat, quite frankly, the ugliest dog Steve had ever seen. It was hairless, but he still couldn’t help but admit it was cute in a strange way.

“They must have been part of the team that ran the Mossad Op.” Katie shrugged. “He kinda looks a bit like you actually.”

“I don’t see it.” Steve wrinkled his face and she shrugged, moving to put the photo back in the drawer. “I found the bathroom, water is still running but not sure if it’s gonna be heated or…”

“I don’t need it heated.” Katie shook her head. “Frankly the colder the better. Now, help me get this bed sorted and then we can wash up and maybe we can spend what’s left of the Anniversary we forgot sat out on the sand?”

Steve chuckled, pulling her closer to him, both hands on her hips. He dropped his face to hers, catching her lips in a soft kiss. “Sounds good to me.”

After a quick shower each they headed back outside, where Sam and Natasha were already sat. And it turns out their friends were indeed far better at remembering their anniversary than they were. Along with their normal supplies, Sam had stashed a crate of beer on the jet, hidden in the cooler and Natasha had also managed a bottle of the same champagne they had served at the wedding, although instead of drinking it out of crystal flutes, it was sipped from mugs Natasha had dug out of the jet, which bore the Avengers symbol, a harsh reminder of the life they had all run from little over twelve months previously.

The four of them sat on the up turned logs, dotted around what, Steve correctly guessed, had been some sort of fire pit, talking quietly, watching the sun set over the ocean. It was peaceful and Steve felt like they could almost have been on vacation.

Almost.

Steve felt Katie sagging next to him and turned to see that she had her eyes closed, head resting on his shoulder. He placed a soft kiss to her head and then looked at the rest of his team. Sam’s head was drooping a little and Natasha’s eyes were heavy. He issued a soft instruction to go to bed and they both looked at him, giving him a nod and Katie stirred a little. In a graceful movement, Steve had swept her into his arms and he carried her, not unlike the way he had done two years ago that very night, to their accommodation for the evening. She sat on the edge of the bed, removing her shorts leaving her in her panties and tank top as she climbed under the scratchy sheets, Steve settling down besides her.

“Night sweetheart.” He muttered, kissing her neck as he pulled her to him, her back pressing into his chest.

“Night Soldier.” She whispered back, closing her eyes.

**** Steve turned over for what felt like the tenth time in as many minutes. He couldn’t get comfortable, and then there was the simple, yet slight complication to the situation that he’d woken from a particularly graphic dream about their honeymoon, and now he was fucking horny as hell.

He rolled onto his back, his head turning towards Katie and his eyes scanned over her face as she slept. He took in the shape of her nose, soft curve of her lips and his eye-line flickered down to the swell of her breasts which were visible under the cami she was wearing.

Okay, so that wasn’t helping. At all.

She gave a soft sigh, moving a little, her legs kicking down the sheets slightly so they fell around her hips and that was the point Steve’s already fraying self-control snapped. Shuffling closer, he pressed his lips to hers, before he moved his mouth to her jawline, down her neck, leaving soft, hot kisses on her skin as he went. His hand gently curled around her hip, fingers digging into the flesh ever so slightly and she gave a little murmur, her eye lids fluttering as his lips moved back to hers. And this time, she reciprocated slightly. His lips dropped downwards, his tongue dipping into the hollow of her throat before his affections turned to her delicate collar bone. With a gentle shift of his body, he went even lower still, his calloused hands sliding along her ribcage as he slid her cami top upwards, exposing her breasts. His large hands cupped them, thumbs brushing over her nipples and at that he felt her really respond with a soft whimper, her back arching slightly into his touch.

With one hand he traced the curve of her hip down the outside of her thigh, before he trailed his fingers across her belly, and then her soft whimpers became a harsh gasp as his fingers entered her, curling softly against her insides, coaxing more and more wetness from her as he moved, his mouth continuing to lick and sucking at her breasts. She arched her back, writhing, desperately moving her hips as she sought out the friction she needed between her legs and Steve obliged, moving his hand so the heel of his palm brushed against her clit. With a strangled moan, which she stifled slightly by turning her head into his arm, she came, her body shaking on the mattress, sheets now pushed well out of the way.

Steve’s mouth claimed hers once more, in a searing kiss as he let out a groan of his own when he felt Katie dip her hand into his boxers, wrapping her hand around his achingly hard cock.  Every inch of him was on fire and he wanted her.

“Need you.” His voice was low with desire as he pressed his lips back to her neck, nipping at the spot beneath her ear. “Want you.”

“You got me.” She whispered. “I’m yours, Stevie.”

At her words he gave a low groan, sitting up slightly so that he could pull her underwear down. He wriggled out of his own, before he settled over her, his mouth finding hers again the pair of them letting out a shaky sigh and a moan each as he entered her.

Her hands gently slid down over his back, feeling the expanse of muscle which twitched under her finger tips as he moved, slowly, deeply. Every roll of his hips sent his pelvis rocking up against her spot. Katie glanced up at him, his lips kiss swollen, eyes blown with desire, hair falling forward over his forehead. She reached up to brush it back, her hands tangling in the long strands and she pulled his face down to hers, locking their lips in a sloppy, filthy kiss.

Fuck, Steve Rogers loved sex with his wife anyway he could get it, but this, well, he was a sucker for simple vanilla and Katie was too. There was something about this position, the boring missionary one that drove both of them wild. The way Steve could cage her in his arms, fuck her into the mattress one day or make love to her the next. The way his large frame engulfed hers completely surrounding her, filling each one of her senses.  The way he controlled the pace completely, driving into her again and again until she could no longer think straight. The way he controlled the depth, sometimes using his arms under her knees to hold her open, or slinging her legs over her shoulders.  

It was a plain, vanilla flavoured heaven. One that they could visit time and time again, and would never get bored of tasting.

Steve drove as deep into his wife as he could get, rotating his hips slightly whilst he was fully seated, causing her to gasp and emit a frankly sinful moan which he swallowed with his mouth. Her hands dug into the skin of his shoulder blades and he moved, grabbing her wrists and pulling them round so he could lace his fingers between hers. Pinning her hands either side of her head he picked up his pace slightly, carefully watching her face as he felt her tightening around him slightly, a tell-tale sign she was close.

“Come on, pretty girl.” Steve panted, his lips by her ear as he gave a soft nip to her neck. “Give it to me, baby.”

The sensation and heat which was building in her core was impossible to ignore. Her breathy pants of his name became faster, as did Steve’s movements, and with a last, broken cry of his name the fire exploded in her belly and she came, hard, her orgasm rolling over her in wave after wave of white hot pleasure, which left her boneless underneath Steve, her nails digging into the backs of his hands. The sensation of feeling her around him was enough, and Steve gave a single, strangled cry of her name as he too reached his peak, his hips faltering as the ribbons in his belly untangled, the pleasure spreading from the toes to the very hair on his head.

He pressed his face into Katie’s neck, placing another soft kiss to her pulse point which left his lips salty from the slight gleen of sweat which coated them both. He pulled back slightly, releasing Katie’s hands as she flexed her fingers, knowing full well what she wanted. And, sure enough, her fingers threaded through his long hair, scratching softly at the nape of his neck. His eyes closed, and the pair of them lay in silence, completely blissed out and relaxed, hearing only each other’s gradually steadying breaths which mingled with the sounds of the waves lapping against the shore outside.

Katie felt Steve’s lips press to her forehead and she smiled softly, opening her eyes to look straight into his, those baby blues spattered with green.

“Happy Anniversary, Gorgeous.” He muttered, his lips catching hers.

“Its past midnight.” She replied gently

“Not at home.” He replied softly, before he swallowed and hung his head. “I’m sorry it has to be like this.”

“Steve, I am home.” Katie looked at him, her hands moving to cup his face “My home is with you.” She guided his head down so that his lips met hers again, her hands gently tangling in his beard “It always will be, you know this.” She whispered against his mouth before she kissed him, deeply, wriggling a little. Steve gave a short grunt and she felt him starting to twitch inside her again. With an arch of her eyebrow she tipped her pelvis up and in a flash Steve had reached up, pinning her wrists down by her head.

“Keep going and imma be hard again in about five seconds flat.” He whispered, and Katie grinned.

“I’m counting on it, Soldier.” She smirked “Because I’ve got a hankering for some more plain old vanilla.”

**** Chapter 36 Part 1

**Original Posting**

[littlegalerion]

Been playing way too much Fire Emblem Awakening as of late, and have been envisioning my OCs having the support conversations like what is present in the games. I guess this counts as fanfiction of sorts? If you don’t know what I’m talking about, here’s an example:

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=WXYFS8eggUQ&t=567s

Have Some Abnur and Trechire Support Conversations 

Abnur: Still holding on to your old habits? I would have thought the bear would be bald by now. 

Trechire: He enjoys the brushing.

Abnur: Is it the same bear? Supposedly Wardens just summon them from thin air, but it’s never been explained to me if it’s the same bear each time.

Trechire: Usually, as the bear forms a bond with us, and so recognizes our call and beats out all other competition.

Abnur: Competition?

Trechire: Nature’s furry warriors love to help a Warden in need. It’s their way of showing off. So yes, when a Warden sends their summons, there can be competition.

Abnur: I always meant to delve further into the Warden’s teachings and abilities via our letters. They aren’t very plentiful in Cyrodiil, but gods we could use every edge possible. It gets more and more frustrating every time refugees get preyed upon by the wildlife.

Trechire: I wish you would have said something. I would have come.

Abnur: Not you. Any other Warden, but not you. I didn’t have time for you to pepper me with questions over the Amulet.

Trechire: And how often did I do that in our letters?

Abnur: …

Trechire: That’s what I thought.

Abnur: Regardless, I had every right to be cautious. Only a fool wouldn’t have been. Not to mention you were...not in the right state of mind. Your grief would have clouded your sense of judgement.

Trechire: Or sharpened it. Don’t lecture me like some child or incredibly lucky adventurer. I’ve been through enough to have learned from fatal, stupid mistakes. You were there for some of them. Not to mention I’m far more experienced at dealing with organizing and preserving groups of individuals- for far longer than you.

Abnur: Longer than me? I’ve had to wrangle all of Cyrodiil while stouts raided the henhouse that was the White-Gold Tower, for more than a hundred years.

Trechire: And here Hircine’s lead Alpha stands before you, having served for two hundred and thirty years.

Abnur: You’re two hundred and fifty some years old? Hmph, you look rather remarkable for your age.

Trechire: Thank you, young man.

C Rank Support Achieved

Trechire: The dragons aren’t very keen on laying low. The flying whelps just ravage the landscape with no regard for subtly or risk.

Abnur: They’re giant, naturally armored lizards that can Shout you to death. You expect them to have a concept of such things?

Trechire: I do, especially after we continuously put them down. Even the dumbest animal alive would know to avoid the claws after they’ve been struck by them twice!

Abnur: That many have been slain? Serves me right, neglecting to at least browse over the reports…

Trechire: Oh no, not by Elsweyr’s own. I’ve met with several other pack leaders about the dragons. We agree not only are they perhaps the best prey we’ve ever had the chance to hunt, but they also greatly threaten our territories. Packs have been regrouping, quickly learning how to kill these beasts.

Abnur: So this has officially become some sort of game to lycanthropes?

Trechire: Yes, and be glad for that. I was the one who rallied the packs into this. Thanks to their thirst for such glory, the dragons have been kept at bay from escaping Elsweyr’s borders. Or, at least far from Elsweyr’s borders.

Abnur: I should have realized that. With Cadwell’s constant chatter, Khamira’s vigilance over my every move, and Euraxia’s forces strutting around, flying Imperial flags and making a mockery out of us, I’m spread thin. I can’t be expected to handle everything, or to retain my usual sharp focus.

Trechire: Good thing you have me, then.

Abnur: Perhaps. First I’ll have to see how you handle some wine before bed, and then I’ll comment if you’re worth all the animal fur left all over our equipment.

Trechire: We’re working with khajiit, you know?

Abnur: It isn’t khajiit fur. I’ve checked. I don’t even want to know how or why you brought a pony inside our barracks, just don’t make it a habit!

B Rank Support Achieved

Abnur: Just tell me what you want. I’m too tired to wait around for you to work up the nerve to ask in your own time.

Trechire: Pardon?

Abnur: You’ve been staring at me for the past five minutes. Whatever it is you want, just spit it out. We have dragons literally breathing down our necks.

Trechire: I… was just reflecting on how far you’ve come. You’ve proved to be a good man, Abnur.

Abnur: ...

Trechire: But that’s what concerns me. I’ve seen many prove their worth, but they never survive through their redemption.

Abnur: Redemption? Just what was it I did that I am now redeeming myself of?

Trechire: You placed trust in Mannimarco, even if a small measure of it. I’m not judging. I...I’ve done far worse, and faced the consequences. Rest assured, we’ll save Tamriel just like we did before, but this time no one has any reason to distrust you.

Abnur: I think Khamira disagrees.

Trechire: She’s young, and still bleeding from the loss of her parents, home, stability… If she was totally together, she’d be equally as hostile towards me. I helped you, supported you, in releasing those dragons. Sithis knows, I was the one who did most of the dirty work!

Abnur: Yes, but you have that Galerion charm. I’m certain your father could set fire to the nearest forest, turn around and smile, then easily talk his way out of any charges or suffer any reputation loss. How did the puddle-scrying necromancer put it? “Galerion knows how to warm a heart, so he can easily manipulate and maintain it.”

Trechire: *laughter*

Abnur: That doesn’t offend you?

Trechire: Not at all. It isn’t wrong. Where do you think I learned my diplomacy and persuasion from?

Abnur: Hilarious, but are we done here? We both have more important tasks to attend to.

Trechire: I’m proud of you. That’s all I wanted to say.

Abnur: You can coo at me all you like later tonight, but for now, let’s not get so sickeningly sweet, shall we?

A Rank Support Achieved  

Trechire: What are you doing here? I thought you were leaving?

Abnur: Officially, I left. I told you, I hate parties, not to mention others might start trying to embrace or praise me, much alike you or, worse, Cadwell. But I wasn’t going to leave without finishing what I started.

Trechire: Oh?

Abnur: Would you accept this?

Trechire: A ring? Wait- the gems, those are bits of Welkynd stone!

Abnur: I didn’t think you’d care for a traditional Ring of Mara, given your beliefs, so I had to improvise.

Trechire: ...A Ring of Mara? This… Oh.

Abnur: It stings that you didn’t see this coming.

Trechire: Well, actually...it stung when you left, because… I had had this waiting back in our quarters here for you, after the coronation.

Abnur: You bought a Ring of Mara?

Trechire: I personally hold no regard for the divines, and I know you don’t either, but I thought you’d prefer to stick to tradition.

Abnur: For a two hundred and fifty nine year old mer, you certainly don’t act your age. Buying a ring for me. You should have known better.

Trechire: And miss your face growing this lovely shade of red? Or the chance to prove I’m long past my days of being intimidated by such things? But the fact of the matter is- I love you, Abnur, and for however long it is Tamriel allows us to still draw breath, I want to spend it as your wife.

Abnur: ...And I would gladly spend that time as your husband. Just so you know, however, I didn’t ask for your father’s blessing, and I wasn’t going to propose some grand wedding-

Trechire: Thank Sithis for that! You’d have given him a heart attack, and can you imagine the crowd we’d draw for a full, proper wedding? I can already hear Vivec sobbing obsessively, and loudly enough that no one can hear the vows being exchanged.

Abnur: Just a private exchange of vows, within one of these temples. But for validation, I have the documentation all ready to go for proof of marriage. We just need witnesses.

Trechire: I absolutely adore you.

Abnur: Restrain yourself until after the ceremony. I know that’s an impossible struggle, but know that I have faith in you, my love.

S Rank Support Achieved

[wildwren]

The Last Kingdom // AU Canon Divergence // Erik x Aethelflaed // Rated Explicit // chapter can stand as a one-shot

Chapter Twelve: The Crow on the Cradle, read on AO3

Featuring: KID GANG - RUGRATS EDITION, Stiorra, Young Uhtred, Aelfwynn, OC Finan’s son. 

CWs for the chapter: child endangerment, threats against children, graphic violence 

The Lady Aethelflaed has gone to war, leaving Stiorra, Uhtred, and young Finric  with the vague promise that their fathers might visit once the battle is done. That’s not good enough for Stiorra, though. If her father can’t make the time to come to her, she’ll go to him. And she’s willing to do almost anything to get there...

They rode slowly through the village. She did not want to risk drawing any attention. If they rode at speed, Stiorra thought, they’d be more likely to attract the curious, questioning eyes of villagers.

“They’ll recognize us.” Young Uhtred had been whining since they left.

“Well if they do, at least we shall not look guilty,” Stiorra said.

“But we are guilty.”

“Hush now.” Stiorra pulled the hood of her cloak a little closer around her face.

It was a relief when they passed through the village’s outer wall, following in the wake of a tanner’s cart.

“They’ll punish us, for stealing the horses.” It seemed Uhtred was incapable of not worrying.

“They can’t punish us if they don’t catch us.”

“They’ll notice that we’re gone.”

Stiorra jerked the reins of her horse slightly to cross Uhtred’s path. “They won’t notice!” She growled at him. “Anyone who cares about us is already gone! The new Lady only cares about Aelfwynn.”

Uhtred muttered something under his breath but did not protest. They continued at a walk until the village started to fade behind the crest of a hill.

“Do you even know the way?”

“Lady Aethelflaed said it was North,” Stiorra said, squinting at the Sun’s upward path. “How hard can it be? We ride North until we find a war camp.”

“And father will be there?” Uhtred asked doubtfully.

“Yes. Lady Aethelflaed summoned him and his thegns.” There was a moment of stiff silence. “Father only cares about war, so we must go to war to find him.” She offered the justification as much for herself as for Uhtred.

“I still don’t —” But Uhtred’s words were cut off by a sharp breathless cry from behind them, and Stiorra whipped her horse around to see two small figures running towards them with stumbling desperation.

“Wait!” The closest one cried.

“Is that —?”

“Aelfwynn!” Stiorra yelled. “What the hell are you doing?!”

Aelfwynn had collapsed in a wind-spent pile at the foot of Stiorra’s horse, panting deep ragged breaths. Finric was not far behind. Stiorra noticed that he’d been tasked with carrying the unwieldy lopsided sack that was, presumably, Aelfwynn’s runaway bag.

“We caught you!” Aelfwynn gasped in joy. “We caught them, Finric!” The little dark-haired boy was wide eyed with frantic exhaustion. “We thought we wouldn’t — you left without us!”

“Of course we left without you!” Stiorra yelled down at her.

“You left us with the babies!”

“You are babies!”

Aelfwynn looked truly wounded at that. She wiped a bit of dirty spittle from her chin. “We’re coming with you.”

“You are not coming with us!” Uhtred said, with an attempt at fierce sternness that just ended up sounding weakly desperate. “They are not coming with us!” He repeated, looking at Stiorra.

“You’ll walk back to the village.” Stiorra commanded. “Now.”

“We won’t!” Finric piped up, his eyes filled with the fire of child who’d been set to run a mile with a pack on his back. “We’ll follow your horses, you can’t stop us!”

“Oh, you think I can’t —?” Stiorra looked around on her saddle for something to throw at them, but came up empty-handed.

“My father will be there too!” Finric went on. “And Aelfwynn, well…” And he shrugged as if to say, It’s Aelfwynn, what can you do?

But Stiorra was fixing her eye backwards on the horizon, where the village had already vanished from view. She turned her horse away from the children and spurred it forward into a trot to continue along their route.

“What are you doing?” Uhtred asked from behind her, his horse still fixed.

“What does it look like I’m doing? We’re leaving.”

“You can’t just leave them here! On the road?! That’s — Lady Aelfwynn! What if she’s kidnapped?”

“Then that will be her fault.”

Uhtred’s horse made pace with her own and he reached out to grab her reins. “Stop. Stiorra, stop!”

Aelfwynn and Finric were limping along after them with bitter resolve.

“We don’t have time to take them back,” Stiorra said. Uhtred glared at her. “We don’t! We’re already a day behind the war band. We’ll miss them! And then we’ll truly be in danger, do you understand?”

“Stiorra…” He looked a little like her father then, stern and fierce with a bit of softness squishing out the sides of his glare.

“Fine,” she said, and she reached down to pick up Aelfwynn by the collar of her dress. The girl squealed as she was lifted onto the horse, but then settled on the saddle quickly, controlling her fluster. Uhtred did the same with Finric, and turned his horse back towards Tamworthig.

“We’re not going back,” Stiorra said coldly.

“What — ? We’re…we’re taking them?! Stiorra—!”

“Lady Aethelflaed can deal with them when we get there. We don’t have time, Uhtred.”

“And if we get them killed?”

“Then they’ll have gotten themselves killed.”

“You know we can hear you, right?” Finric asked, but Stiorra just said, “Hush.”

“Stiorra!” Uhtred cried from behind her. “ Stiorra! I… I think they’ll notice we’re gone now, eh?!”

She turned back to look at him and gave her most winsome smile. “Best take it at a canter then.”

She urged her horse forward and did not look back.

They stopped for the night on the outer edge of a small, tumbledown village. Stiorra had no intention of asking any of the villagers where they were. She didn’t want any impertinent questions about why a group of children should be out on the roads alone. Of course, this had the effect of making it impossible to discover how far they’d gone. But Stiorra was optimistic.

Still, it was wet. None of them had thought to bring a waxed canvas in their pack, and so they had to settle for the night in the hollow at the base of a great tree, and hope that its leafed boughs dampened the rain. Stiorra raided Aelfwynn’s pack as soon as she was able and found a few stale loaves and bruised apples, Aelfwynn’s finest cloak of woad-dyed wool with embroidered trim, and not one but two carved wooden toys. It would have been almost sweet, if it wasn’t so ridiculous.

Stiorra thought herself much more reasonable. She had brought a thick, coarsely woven cloak of dun brown wool, a carving knife, a small ax, a length of hempen rope, a spark striker, a water flask, a sack of oats for the horses, and a ration of dried meat in addition to her own stock of bread and apples. The waxed canvas was an oversight (What did you even bring the rope for? she thought to herself bitterly), but otherwise, she imagined herself quite an accomplished scout.

Uhtred spent a while collecting sticks for the fire, while Stiorra got a coal glowing in her tinder with her iron striker and a chunk of hard flint. But when she tucked the coal into the nest of sticks that Uhtred built, they just smoldered with smoky dampness until the tinder burned down to cold ash.

“They’re too wet, I think,” Uhtred said.

“Obviously they’re too wet! What kind of fool can’t gather dry sticks?”

“They’re all wet, Stiorra! Why don’t you try, and I’ll stay here playing with sparks?” Uhtred reached for the tinder kit, but Stiorra snatched it out of his grasp before he could open it.

“You’ll just waste all the char-cloth,” she said, a bit cruelly. “We’ll have to sleep without fire tonight.”

Uhtred glared at her but bit his tongue. He broke a stale loaf apart and handed chunks to of it to the young ones.

Aelfwynn accepted, using her other hand to wipe the back of her noise noisily. “Stiorra, I’m cold.”

“We’ll huddle under the cloaks,” Stiorra said, and pulled out Aelfwynn’s fine blue wool. “It’ll be destroyed by the time we get there, but there’s nothing to be done for it. If you had any sense, you’d have brought a horse blanket instead.”

Aelfwynn sniffed and muttered something that sounded vaguely like “couldn’t reach.” Stiorra’s heart turned a bit at the sight of the girl, cold and small and pale in the thin moonlight, and of Finric, huddled against her as he scarfed down his bread with all the grace of a starved weasel. But then she remembered how utterly not her fault all of this was, and the feeling passed.

“Stiorra,” Aelfwynn spoke again. “Do you…do you promise we’ll find mother?”

Stiorra sighed with barely controlled impatience. “I will…do…my…best, Aelfwynn.” The girl gave a little whimper and turned to bury her face in Finric’s dark head.

“Come. Come now.” Stiorra tried to temper her voice. “Let us huddle down now, before the chill sets in. We shall be warm soon, and…we can eat more in the morning.”

Aelfwynn nodded wetly, and the children all gathered together in the hollow with Aelfwynn’s fine cloak and Stiorra’s rough cape spread across them. Stiorra held Aelfwynn close against her, and felt the girl’s body shaking slightly with silent tears.

“Hush now, it will be well,” she whispered into Aelfwynn’s golden hair.

And soon they were warm and drifting into dream.

The day dawned with a thin light, the sun’s brightness watered down by thick gray clouds. But the sky did not spit at them, and the air warmed quickly, and Stiorra was in good spirits as they continued further North along the rutted Mercian road. At least, she was in as good enough spirits as she could manage, in the present company.

Aelfwynn was tired, fussy, and hungry. It was only to be expected in a well-spoilt child such as her. Stiorra struggled to not let her frustration boil over too much, but it was hard, as the children started to entertain themselves by telling tales of what they would do once they reached the camp.

“And my father,” Finric was saying, “my father is Lord Uhtred’s best warrior! And I will ride into battle with him, I think! I will sit on his shoulders and shoot all his enemies with my bow!”

Aelfwynn giggled.

“You don’t have a bow, Finric,” Stiorra said wearily.

“That doesn’t matter! They’re warriors!” He said, as though it were common sense that all warriors had a child-sized bow ready and waiting in case it should be needed.

“And I should like to ride on the ships,” Aelfwynn said. “It’s unfair, I think, it’s unfair that I shouldn’t get to ride on the ships. They’ll be my ships one day, won’t they, and so how am I to know if they’re any good?”

Stiorra nearly rolled her eyes into the back of her head.

“Stiorra.” Uhtred’s voice was low and tense, like a whispered net thrown over the children’s witless batter. “Stiorra, I think that rider’s been following us.”

Stiorra stayed very still and stiff in her saddle for a moment before turning to look over her shoulder with a light glance. There was a rider behind them - a dark-hooded man on a chestnut horse. Stiorra could not see his face. She turned her head forward again with the swiftness of a breath.

“He’s a rider, Uhtred,” she whispered back. “He’s just using the road like we are.”

“I know, but…I think…”  Uhtred looked anxiously behind him again. “I’ve been watching him, and I think he’s holding his horse back. Why would he hold his horse back? He could pass us if he wished…”

“What are you talking about?” Finric asked, with a loudness that made Stiorra wince.

“Nothing,” she snapped. “Shut your mouth.”

“You wouldn’t say that if I had my bow, would you?”

“Shut up, Finric.” Perhaps it was because this was such an unexpected chide from Uhtred, but Finric did, in fact, shut up.

“Let us speed the horses,” Stiorra said. “They have walked long enough.”

“And if he speeds up too?”

Stiorra’s mind flared slightly with panic, and her eyes raked over the road in front of them. “We shall cut off into the trees, beyond that crest. We’ll try to hide.”

“Who are we hiding from?” Aelfwynn asked, with an equally ear-splitting pitch.

“No one,” Uhtred said. “We’re playing a game. Testing ourselves. Can you be very quiet?”

Aelfwynn nodded with wide eyed excitement, and Finric gave a wild grin. Idiot children. Foolish, ridiculous, Gods-cursed, idiot children.

She had to protect them.

“We go,” she whispered. “Three….two….one…NOW!” She kicked the horse savagely, and it bolted forward like a spooked doe. Uhtred’s horse kept pace, each one egging the other on with sudden, wild fear.

“He’s following!” Uhtred cried. “He’s matching our speed!”

Stiorra did not look back. She kicked her horse again, up and over the slope until she saw the copse of trees to the right of the road. Then she jerked the reins with all her strength, and the horse veered with a slight scream, kicking up mud with its pawing hooves. She thought she could  vanish into the thicket, but then she saw that Uhtred had driven his horse to the left.

Damn the Gods! She had not said which side of the road, assuming Uhtred’s mind lay equal with her own.

“Uhtred!” She yelled in a hoarse whisper, and he turned with a wild cry, seeing her half-snarled in the facing brush. Stiorra could hear the rider’s horse drumming just over the cusp of the hill. Uhtred charged forward across the road, and together they crashed deeper into the wood, but the snap and rustle of their horses was deafening, and Stiorra could see the silhouette of the man as he crested the hill and drew his horse to a stop.

Stiorra slid off her horse, pulling Aelfwynn with her, and Uhtred did the same.

Aelfwynn squirmed and whimpered in her rough grip. “What’s happening? I thought—” but Stiorra covered the girl’s mouth with her hand.

“Hush. Get down!”

Finric was wide-eyed with fear and confusion, and there were two high spots of red on Uhtred’s face as he struggled to push the boy down into the brush.

“What if he’s from Tamworthig?” Uhtred whispered. “What if the new Lady sent him to find us?”

“They wouldn’t send just one man!” Stiorra had had the same thought and abandoned it. “He must be a rogue.” And if wasn’t….well, they couldn’t risk being found either way, could they?

The man had tethered his horse by the road and was stalking through the thicket with the careful movements of a hunting cat.

“I know you’re in here, little ones!” His accent was Mercian, his English clear and true. A Saxon. It made little difference to Stiorra.

Aelfwynn squirmed again, and then bit Stiorra’s fingers where they clamped over the girl’s mouth. She could not suppress a small cry.

“For God’s sake, Aelfwynn!”

“I couldn’t breathe!”

The man’s head snapped up at the sound, and Stiorra thought she could see his face sharpen through the shadow of his hood. He drew it down, as if to hear better, and his pale, scarred face came into view. Stiorra had never seen him before. He had not come from Tamworthig.

“I can hear you, little ones!” Stiorra’s blood chilled and the cool, cloying shape of his voice. He knew where they were. It would have been impossible not to see the shape of horses against the fine screen of leaves. He was playing with them.

“I just want to share your fire! To make sure that you’re safe! Little ones like you shouldn’t be out on the road, alone.”

“This isn’t a game, is it?” Finan’s spoke with a high breathy whisper, his chest pumping like a bellows.

Stiorra shared a grim look with Uhtred. There was no doubt in either of their minds anymore. This man would do them harm.

“The pack,” Stiorra whispered hoarsely. “Give me the pack.”

Uhtred slid it off his body and rolled it towards her as quietly as he could. She snaked her hand inside of it, finding each item in turn - a smooth Ashen handle, a rough cord…

“Get the children and the horses deeper in.”

“What are you —-?”

“Now!”

Uhtred moved with a strange, sliding stumble, trying to crouch and run and pull the horses all at once. If the trees had decided to pull up their roots and walk away through the thicket, it could not have made more noise than he did in that moment. But there was nothing to be done for it.

The man was moving faster now, but still with the careful, stalking quality of a predator. He did not think they would get away. He did not think they could get away.

Stiorra tied the rope with fumbling fingers, drawing rough, weak knots and weaving the cord through the interlocking stems of brambles. Her hands and arms were shredded by the thorns in a matter of moments. She could hear the fading sounds of the horses, and the high notes of the children’s voices as they vanished into the brush.

She was alone now. She sent a silent prayer of thanks to Uhtred for his trust.

She rose to her feet, and the man’s eyes widened at the sight of her, exposed and alone just a few paces from where he stood. He stopped, and his face drew into a sharp-edged grin. Standing so close, Stiorra could see how rough his face was, and how darkly his eyes pooled within it.

“Little girls like you shouldn’t be out alone. Someone might try to steal you.”

Stiorra could feel herself trembling. She balled her hands into tight fists until the shaking stopped.

“They’d have to catch me first,” she said. And she turned and ran.

The man crashed after her through the brush with loud, gasping grunts of effort — or of laughter. She could not tell. She had to fight the brambles too, and panic started to rise thick and sour in her throat like bile. He would catch her, he would catch her and…

But then she heard the strangled cry and the thump, as he was leveled by her rope, tripping over it and becoming ensnared in the mess of blackberry vines.

“You little bitch!” He yelled after her. “You think you’re clever?!”

She could have kept running. She could have taken her lead, found Uhtred and the others and fled on the horses. But he would have followed them, she knew.

Instead she turned, and stalked back to him. She was so thorn-whipped by now that the scratching, clawing fingers of the thicket did not faze her. The man was still struggling, trying to disentangle himself, but he had nothing to grasp onto but thorn-thick canes, and so he floundered in her trap. She kicked him as hard as she could, where his head met his body. He gave a scream and flailed against the ground.

“You’re going to kill me, little girl?” He gasped the words out, and then spat. Stiorra was pleased to see his spittle flecked red with blood.

“And if I leave you here?” She asked. “What will you do? Go back to your horse and ride South until you reach the Frankish sea?”

He laughed, a cruel low groaning sound in his throat. “I will kill you, little bitch. You think you can outrun me?”

Stiorra did not want to kill him. She had dreamt of battle and the glory of the fight, but the pale skin of his throat leered up at her now, and she thought it was a ridiculous, foolish thing to have ever thought she could kill a man. She imagined a blade in his neck, and the bile rose into her mouth truly then, thick and bitter and searing like a coal.

But then she thought of Aelfwynn, and the feeling of the little girl wrapped her arms, so warm and heavy and foolish and brave.

Stiorra had to protect her. She had to protect them all.

The man was pushing himself up onto his elbows, his face twisting with wickedness as he opened his mouth to speak again. The smooth ax handle was tight in her hand, its head glinting with a newly sharpened edge.

And then — somehow — it was buried in the man’s neck, like a plow in a fresh-driven field, and he was choking on the blood that flowed from his throat.

[thescatterbrainedwriter]

Crossed Wires pt.2

Flash Fanfic

——

Warnings: None

Word Count: ~2,000

Pairings: Oc x Canon

***Note: Emily is my own creation, I just like sticking her in random places***

——

They popped back up in the living room of Nash’s place, Harry holding onto Emily for a moment when they touched ground again not really wanting to let her go. “You good?” she asked making sure his footing was stable. “Yup, I’m good,” Harry assured. “You sure?” She asked with a smirk lifting their still joined hands. “Mhmm,” he repeated still holding on. Her heart skipped when he smirked making her tense for a second. “Ok, good,” she said letting his hand go and moving to take her shoes off. “So, I’m assuming you may be hungry? Want anything?” She asked making her way to the kitchen. “No, I’m ok for now,” he dismissed shaking his head. After taking off his shoes and jacket he followed her to the kitchen. Her heart rate picked up as he got closer and she bit her lip trying to keep herself together. “Theeeeen what.... did you waaaaanna do?” Harry shrugged. “I dunno,” he stated casually somewhat amused at her discomfort. It was his turn to make her blush and he was going to have fun with it.

“Ok, well, I’m gonna go.... make a snack. Or something. Should probably calibrate and affix your neural scanner first though.”

“Oh right, yeah. Should probably... do that....” he said pulling out the device and handing it to her. He followed her into the kitchen and took a seat, Emily standing in front of him given he was so tall even on a chair. As she concentrated making sure everything was in order, Harry studied her with a smile that slowly got wider the longer she took. He saw her brows furrow, her eyes fixate on her task, pupils dilate, mouth pouted and even her tongue stuck out the side of her mouth a little. “Hmmkay... that should do it,” she said completing affixing the small device to his forehead. Smiling satisfied she caught him looking at her with soft eyes. “What? Why are you looking at me like that?” She asked.

“Just... watching you concentrate,” Harry said with a shrug. “You know, you stick your tongue out and your pupils dilate when you zone out?” He smiled leaning forward and pointing at her. Emily smiled embarrassedly putting her hand in his face to push him away. “Pfffff— stop... staring at meeee,” she whines with a giggle. “Das rude!”

“Maybe I don’t want to,” Harry teased grabbing her hand and removing it from impeding his vision. Emily squinted before licking her other palm and planting it square in the middle of his face prompting him to release her hand in order to wipe the saliva off. She took the opportunity to retreat away all the while giggling at his sounds of disgust. “Uuuugh, why!” He complained.

“I need my hand to make snacks, how else was I supposed to get you to let go?”

“You could have asked!”

“Were you really gonna let it go?”

Harry paused. “.....yes, I would have.”

“You hesitated!” Emily accused pointing at him from across the table squinting suspiciously.

“I would have! ...... Eventually.....” Harry admitted sheepishly. “Mhmm, yeah sure,” she said with a smirk. “Anyway, I’m gonna go change into comfy pj’s and then make a snack. Technically this is your place too so go get comfortable or something. I’ll be back.” She poked her head back out of the door she had just disappeared into after a brief pause. “Don’t worry, I’ll wear pants this time,” she assured and grinned. Harry grinned with a nervous chuckle still sitting at the table and she disappeared again. He sat steeping in uncertainty, his ears beginning to burn as he debated telling her what was on his mind the entire time she was gone today. When she wandered back into the kitchen muttering her nightly to-do list he decided to blurt it out. As she said, how often would he get this opportunity again?

“Hey Emily,” he said quickly standing nearly tipping over the chair. Emily’s head snapped over to him in surprise having been jolted from her thoughts by both his voice and the noise of the chair. “Ack! Oh, you ok?”

“Yeah, ah, I’m fine,” he dismissed righting the chair and breezing over to her. “I.... have spent a lot of time thinking. Today. W-while you were.... out....”

“Ok?” she said raising an eyebrow curiously and leaned against the table. “Whaaaaat was it you thought about and conclusion did you come to? If you came to one.” Harry paused before averting his gaze and scratched his face. “Well.... as you can imagine,” he started. “Things were, well quite a lot for me to take in. Today.”

“Mhmm, though you handled it rather well from what I understand.”

“Yeah, well, I guess..... I guess a few... wires, may have been crossed. So to say.”

“I would say so, yeah,” Emily affirmed.

“No, you don’t understand, it’s more than just me being front and center. I’m talking about......” he paused, his breath seeming to catch and he felt really rather warm now. “Harry?” Emily said concerned.

“Emily I.... I think.... I think I’ve been, feeling things.” Harry stuttered trying to explain himself. “And I spent a lot, and I mean a lot, of time thinking it over because I wanted to make sure it was not just carry over from Nash or....” he looked up at her making eye contact, eyes both apprehensive and anxious. “Or me....” Emily’s heart stopped and her cheeks became rosy. “Whaaaat do you mean?” she asked trying to keep her voice level.

“Well, I— as I’ve said— I was doing quite a lot of thinking today, and going over past memories and doing a bit of.... self reflection I.... I guess. And I came to the conclusion that..... that......” Emily’s eyes grew wide in anticipation and she barely breathed waiting for him to speak. Harry relaxed his shoulders and his face softened. “I love you.” Her breath caught and all she could do was stare at him. “I know, I know,” Harry said after the awkward silence, “this is a really bad time to be bringing that up but, I just..... I was afraid and then Earth 2 was destroyed by the Anti-Monitor and..... and I really regret not telling you sooner.”

A tiny smile cracked Emily’s face and she looked down at the floor scratching her head. “And here I was thinking I scared you off....” she muttered. “Wait, you....?” Harry asked. “Yeaahhh,” she said smiling at him shyly. “But, I mean, you took your wife’s death hard and I thought at some points in time I was over stepping soooo...... I did my best to quash them. The feelings, I mean.” Harry smiled and sighed. “Mixed signals, god I hate those...”

“Eh well, I was.... admittedly, a little scared too,” Emily explained. “Being ripped away at any point and all that doesn’t exactly make for eager relationship mentality.”

“You know people go through a similar fear, called death, right?” Harry asked.

“Yeah.... I know. I’ve been told the before believe it or not,” Emily followed, “But by that logic, I’ve been through that pain, and inflicted that same pain, half a dozen times at the least. Does that indicate someone who would want to make another connection only to hurt someone like that?”

“No, not really,” Harry admitted. “So then.... why Nash?” Emily pursed her lips and shifted very wide eyes to the sides. “I..... guess I have a type? I’m sure Sherloque could relate,” she smiled a cheesy smile. “Besides, in case you didn’t notice, he had to do an awful lot of convincing.”

“Yeah, I guess,” he sighed. “Didn’t hesitate like I did either.”

“No, no he was.... quite persistent. Took him a while to pluck up the courage though.” Emily smiled and Harry mirrored it. “Soooo, then I have a..... question. For you,” he said slowly walking over like he was embarrassed or too shy. “Can I kiss you?” He asked after a hesitated pause. Emily tensed at the question and chewed on her top lip trying to keep goosebumps from erupting all over. “Why don’t you, try and find out?” She asked smirking a little with hints of deviousness. Harry’s heart stopped, he half expected a yes but didn’t think it would come in the form of a challenge. Tentatively he leaned forward after shaking off his surprise and met her lips with his. They stayed like that for a moment letting the kiss linger between them as they absorbed the tingling feeling that came with it. “So that’s what I missed, hmm?” he commented after they parted. “You’re not half bad yourself,” Emily observed with a smile. Harry chuckled. “If Jessie saw me now. By the way, have you seen her? How is she?”

Emily’s smile dropped a bit. “I.... I uh....”

Harry’s entire face dropped noticing her change in body langue. “Jessie.....”

“I haven’t seen her since, uh, since the universes merged,” Emily admitted causing Harry to turn away, she thought he would pass out with how pale he became. “But! Buuuuut, that doesn’t meeeean she doesn’t exist anymore,” she said rubbing his shoulder, he leaned over the table and stared at the surface with a blank expression. “Cisco traveled around to study and catalog all the changes that have showed up including new metas. And we haven’t seen Wallie around in a while, it’s possible they’ve come across her.”

“Yeah, yeah I guess you’re right,” he muttered.

“Why don’t you, uhm, make a list of things you’d.... like me to ask her. When I do find her, hmm?” she asked trying to distract him.

“Yeah.... yeah I’ll.... I think I’ll do that.” Harry nodded. He slowly shuffled his way into the bedroom and sat on the bed. *Yet another thing to absorb,* he thought to himself.

“I’ll be out here if you need me. For anything,” Emily assured with a gentle smile. Harry nodded and she closed the door to give him quiet. *I think now would be an opportune time for brownies,* she thought to herself. *Not that there’s ever a wrong time for them.* She smiled to herself and headed off to raid the cupboards for ingredients.

——

Harry wasn’t sure how long he sat in the quiet room, but he knew it was an hour at the very least by the ringing now very pronounced in his ears. He had compiled a short list of things he wanted to know about Jessie, short for him anyway, mainly pertaining to how she was doing to making sure she was taking care of herself and he wished to tell her he loved her. He also wrote down a few things he wanted Emily to do for him occasionally in regard to keeping an eye on her. Rubbing his face with a hand he sighed deeply, too much thinking and digestion of information for one day had made him very tired and for once he really wanted to not think about anything. He decided to exit the room and find Emily to see what she had found to make for a snack, and what she considered a snack.

Peeking out of the door he first found a smell of chocolate wafting through the air, then heard humming coming from Emily and similar buzzing from a drone or two. Coming closer to the kitchen, he heard bare feet tapping on the floor and laughter every now and then. He stood in the doorway and leaned against the frame watching with a smile, and after a short while Emily happened to turn enough to catch him watching. “What are you doing waaay over there?” She asked with a giggle.

“Oh, you know. Watching,” he replied.

“Being a creeper, eh?” She smiled making her way over to him. “Creeper? What?” He responded in mock insult. She smiled a little wider. “Creeeeeep-errrrrr,” she said and poked his nose leaving a substance on it. Recoiling at the unknown, Harry touched it to find it was brown and smooth in texture. “Fudge?” He asked confused.

Emily grinned again making her way back over to the counter. “Fudge brownies! My favorite, and guaranteed to cheer anyone up,” she said gesturing dramatically to the still hot bake pan. Harry followed and inspected her handiwork. “Is it all done?” He asked. Emily nodded. “Yup, should be cooled enough t— hey wait, what are you doing?” she asked suddenly noticing Harry move to put his entire open hand right on top of the fudge icing she had finished spreading moments ago. Before she could stop him he firmly planted it in the middle of the pan thoroughly coating it. “Ahh! No, my brownies!!” She near screeched. “Why did y—“ her sentence was cut off by the sudden chocolatey hand plopped into the middle of her face. She froze in disbelief leaving Harry to just smile smugly. “For calling me a butthead earlier,” he explained noting her questioning look. “And the saliva handprint.” Emily’s shoulders dropped. “Fair,” she relented. “But did you really have to ruin such beautiful brownies?”

“I really had to ruin your beautiful brownies,” he confirmed. “But are they really ruined? I think they look better.”

“You know, this isn’t what is meant when the request for a hand is given,” Emily replied washing her face. “So I’ll not ask you for a hand in anything any time soon because of this.” She sighed when she turned and saw him proceed to lick all the icing off his hand. “You want a towel or something instead?”

Harry shook his head. “And waste all this fudge? Never,” he smirked. “Want some?” he asked holding his hand to her face. Emily gave him an unimpressed look fueling his smugness before gripping his wrist and licking from the base of his palm up to the end of his middle finger. Harry swore his heart stopped, he did not anticipate a reaction like that in the least. “Mmm, yum. I love fudge, so much. Good call,” she said with a wink. Harry just stared at her as she casually started cleaning her baking mess like nothing happened. “You’re dangerous,” he commented finding his voice again. “I dunno what you’re talking about,” she replied feigning innocence. He squinted at her with a pause before washing his hand, no way was he risking something like that again. *She seemed too confident doing that,* he thought. *I’ll bet Nash instigates that behavior a lot.*

“So, did you manage to make a list?” Emily asked after a brief silence. Harry paused letting the water run down his hands. “Yeah, I did.”

“Good,” Emily replied finishing wiping down the counter. Smiling she turned around. “Now, eat a feel good brownie, properly this time, and then we can go to bed. No more thinking today, sound good?” Harry nodded with a relieved smile. “Yes, very.” Emily stayed in the kitchen while Harry left to change, brownie in hand, and wandered around closing up for the night. When she made her way to the bedroom, she found him staring off into space sitting on one side of the bed. “Hey,” she said breaking his concentration. “I thought I said no more thinking?”

“Ah, right. Sorry, couldn’t help it I guess,” he said with a chuckle before settling into bed. Emily gave a sympathetic look and made her way to the other side. “Alright, tell me what’s on your mind,” she said sliding under the covers and settling in herself. He looked over making eye contact and his face softened almost immediately at her quiet concerned but attentive look. “Too much,” he says with a sigh. “But, I think mostly, I’m scared.”

“Why are you scared?” She asked scooting a bit closer to him. He sighed again turning on his side to face her. “I’m.... I’m afraid of being lost. I’m afraid to go to sleep because I don’t know if I’ll get the chance to manifest again. That never crossed my mind before today.” Emily sighed softly and gently place a hand on his cheek. “The stubborn and persistent Harry? You’re too assertive to ever disappear.” He chuckled sadly continuing to look at her, his mind calmed and he remembered how he felt the day his mind began to slip and she was there to assure him. “I’ll keep you safe,” she assured softly. “I know,” Harry replied.

“Hey, c’mere,” Emily said after a brief thoughtful pause and stretched out her arms. Harry looked at her quizzically but did as she asked. “What are....?”

“Nash sometimes has nightmares,” Emily explained pulling him close. “This never fails to keep him calm and get him back to sleep.” She wrapped her arms around him gently cradling his head close to her chest and rested her head on top his. Harry stiffened at the close proximity but soon relaxed feeling safe and wrapped his arms around her in return. It didn’t take long for him to drift off to sleep to the sound of her level heartbeat and Emily soon followed.

———

[musetta3]

I don't know your Dragon Age OCs but I'd love to see you share this about them: ♘: Cuddling in a blanket fort

Hi, @wardenari! I have a fluffy prompt for you, featuring Fenris and my modern girl in Thedas, Rana El-Khoury. I hope you enjoy, thank you for the ask!

Fenris came home from market to a quiet house. That within itself was unusual, considering Rana had been practicing her music when he’d left. She always stopped whatever she was doing to help put away groceries...

“Rana? I’m home,” he said, peeking his head in. She wasn’t in the music room or kitchen, nor was she in the garden. Perhaps she was resting. “Ran?”

He knocked on the guest room door and waited. Silence. He knocked several times and waited before poking his head in, eyes widening. The bed had been stripped of its quilts and pillows. His own bed was also naked upon inspection, and the linen closet raided. There wasn’t a single pillow upstairs.

“There’s an explanation,” he said to himself as he hurried downstairs. “A-A perfectly normal explanation.” His mind did not cooperate, conjuring every horrible scenario imaginable. Stranglings, burglars, slavers breaking in; when he found chairs missing in the dining room, dread sunk in. “Rana El-Khoury, where in the Void are you?”

There was a muffled response from the library. Fenris ran across the atrium, heart in his throat. He threw open the door and stopped short. There, in the center of the room, was the most bizarre tent he’d ever seen. Sheet and blankets had been draped over stacked chairs from their dining room, held in place by iron pots and books. Rana stuck her head out from under a blanket.

“Ya habibi,” she said with a smile, “you’re home early. Do you like it? I made it for you.” She crawled out from the tent and dusted herself off. “Your very own blanket fort.”

He stared at her. “A... what?”

“Blanket fort.” Yet another of her outlandish terms. He shifted on his feet.

“And what is the purpose of this... blanket fortress?”

“To spend time together. Just... Come inside.” She took his hand and dragged him to the tent, beckoning him to follow. He had no other recourse but to comply.

“Isn’t it fun?” she asked, lounging among the pillows. “My sister and I did this all the time as girls, back in Lebanon. We always made the best forts.”

He sat beside her. She’d been very homesick lately with the holiday coming; no doubt this was her way of remembering her family during Satinalia. He forced himself to smile, pushing away the ache the word ‘family’ dredged up in his heart.

“It’s quaint,” he agreed, “very colorful.” She took out a deck of cards from behind a pillow.

“I bet you two cookies I’ll beat you at Diamondback,” she said with a grin as she shuffled. “I’m better at it now.” He chuckled.

“You still owe me two cookies from the last time we played.”

“I’m good for it,” she replied. “Money’s on the cushion in the back.” He found a plate of butter cookies and a bottle of Antivan red near the chaise lounge. She dealt the cards as he poured the wine, catching his eye with a smirk. He couldn’t help but smile back.

Fenris learned several things over the course of that afternoon. One: Rana was just as terrible at cards tipsy as she was sober; she also had a low tolerance for alcohol. Two: he would have enough apples to last a lifetime, thanks to the fact that she ate half her money and resorted to the sack of apples in the larder. Three…

He stretched out among the pillows, her head on his chest, idly carding his fingers through her hair. He sighed in contentment, staring at the calico ceiling above.

“Fen? Do you ever miss Tevinter?” she asked.

“No. Seheron, sometimes,” he replied. “I was born there, you know. Wanted to go back until recently.”

“What changed?” He scoffed a laugh.

“Besides everything in my life? There’s nothing to go back to now; I’ve set down roots here.” He wound a curl around his finger. “You are my home.”

She lifted her head. “What?” His eyes went wide at his mistake.

“I-I mean all of ‘you.’ Collective ‘you.’ Sebastian, Varric, Donnic and Aveline, you—”

She propped onto her elbow, eyes dancing. “Ooh, mark the Chantry calendar; Fenris El-Khoury’s being sentimental.”

His face went hot. “A-Am not.” She turned away and chuckled. 

“I am not sentimental,” he protested.

“You’re a horrible liar, my love. But your secret’s safe with me… you big softie.” She settled back onto his chest, mouth twitching from suppressed laughter.

“…You’ll never let me live this down, will you?” he asked.

“Nope. Obligatory teasing period of at least one week.” He heaved a long-suffering sigh and resumed tracing the calico patterns on the fabric ceiling above. A silence settled between them.

“Fen? …You’re my home, too.” He wrapped his arm around her and continued to run his fingers through her hair, smile creeping across his face.

If you want more Rana and Fenris, check out my AO3 profile, I have several works featuring them, including my longfic, The Songstress and the Swordsman.

[veinereastath]

hi there again (I'm the anon from the Eredin age ask, btw, thank you for the answer!! I like your theory). i wanted to ask one more thing - how did you play around with pairing aen elle with a human? not that I have something against it, hell naw, but I'm wondering whether making Rhan a human was somehow important for your plot, or did you just decide it for no bigger reason?

I like your questions, Nonny! I really do~

~ Also, sorry in advance - this is a long answer. I wanted to make it short, but.. I guess I usually go to far with asks, probably because I’m just too excited, duh.

Okay, first things first - pairing Aen Elle with a human is sick. :”) To some extent, I presume. I would never go for it if not for the canon Lara Dorren x Cregennan of Lod story, because that gives some mild suggestion that, technically, such a relationship is possible. Even more interesting, the romance between them was more bothering for humans than elves, so it’s also a little point for my evil little abomination that I created.

About how it started - I created Rhan (or, actually, loose concept of her) in late 2015 / early 2016 [I started my journey with this universe in September 2015 where I played Witcher 3, and after finishing it I swallowed the whole saga by Sapkowski in less than two weeks]. Fun fact - she was an elf at this point, Aen Elle, actually, with a totally different backstory than what we have now. But me, being me, always digging human x elf / demon / whatever the hell you can come out with relationships - it wouldn’t work, it was too boring for me, so I scrapped that early concept and started nibbling, slowly and lazily, at something new. I think that the first ideas that are actually what Rhan is today started appearing in my head during summer vacations in 2016 (gosh, why am I giving so many pointless details, sorry anon).

Let’s get back on the grid - the main problem I have with Eredin is that he’s one of that characters that doesn’t have much screenbooktime. The whole Tir na Lia plot takes about 40 pages I think, and Eredin has maybe 15 pages in total. It’s not much when we have 5 books + about a dozen or so smaller stories [and Season of Storms, but it came out much, much later]. But what I could pick up was that:

Aen Elle are a fucked up race, and that’s a fact, but, honestly  - 90% of the Witcher universe is either genocidal, racist, or both, or worse,

Eredin is genocidal and racist, and, even more... complicating, the whole "Ciri in Tir na Lia” plot puts Eredin, Avallac’h and Auberon in position of rapists, because putting a woman in someone else’s bed without her permission is rape,

he’s that lovely, dark and highly intelligent manipulative type. :”)

It’s quite a feat, because everyday I get around 3-4 new little ideas for their story, but only 1 at best makes it to the “next step”, because there are many things I have to consider - first is, 98% of soft and fluffly things just won’t work with Eredin. They just won’t, but somehow I’m fine with that, I was never a fluffly-tropes kind of person. Second is, Rhan x Eredin relationship is difficult on every level: the race difference is obvious, but there is also age, for example, and all the time I have this little devil in the back of my head reminding me of the “the old, kinda supernatural being falls in love with a young woman” trope: *cough* Twilight *cough*. The worst thing that could happen is making Eredin OOC somehow. But that’s always the biggest fear when shipping OC x canon, I presume.

So, in order to make myself feel better, in nearly every piece of story with them I write I put that huge doubt, mostly on Rhan’s side, how the hell this could work and her little panic when after some time she realizes where her feelings are going, because while Aen Elle x human might have indeed a chance of happening again, even after Lara Dorren x Cregennan, it’s still wrong on nearly every level. When that Aen Elle is Eredin, it’s even worse.

The very definition of “falling in love” itself also kinda feels weird when Eredin is taken into consideration, imo, so that’s another thing I have to live with every day (but hey, I love suffering, so it’s all good, right).

Moving on - I decided that if this is supposed to work, Rhan should probably be as most non-human human as I can, while still somehow keeping that “humanity” in her, because... If I wanted to de-human her entirely, why not just make her an elf and be done with it? That’s why I decided that while yes, she was born on Skellige and is 100% human, I will put her in Brokilon, make her live and learn from the dryads, and then put her right in the middle of Scoia’tael to give her the deep understanding of elven culture and way of life. The final effect is that while Rhan is human in terms of how she looks like (no diamond-cutting cheekbones in her, baby~) and tends to show a more fiery side of her temperament here and there, she behaves like an elf in about 85% of the case - to make it more “real” I added small headcanon things that could potentially fit elves, at least Aen Seidhe, the way the greet each other, thank eatch other for help, share their emotions etc., so after just a few days Eredin realizes “well, she’s human, but she does not behave like one, and does not move or fight like one”. It’s barely a deal for him at this point, but it’s the first, microscopic step towards moving their relationship onto some normal ground.

Another thing - this relationship could not happen fast. While Rhan is a sorceress and, indeed, has an increased lifespan thanks to magic, she is still a human and the biggest human thing in her is that she perceives time like humans do - every minute, hour, week is important to her, while Aen Elle can wait decades and not be too much bothered by it. So something long and lazy from Rhan’s perspective would be a blink of an eye for Eredin, especially since I stick to that headcanon that he must be at least 300 years old - at this age elves are pretty much done with everything, they’ve seen nearly everything, and they just don’t care that much about time, and they get quite bored with each other (sex-wise, as Avallac'h said to Geralt in Tower of The Swallow).

Though, on the side note, the books heavily suggest that Eredin is, indeed, impatient; something that kinda costed the Aen Elle losing the Elder Blood and Auberon at the same time, because he would probably live if not for Eredin’s hasty attempt to speed things up.

Huh, what else could I say... Ah, right, time. I wanted to mention that I made their relationship take a long time to just go from “you’re just a trophy” to “you’re tolerable” to “alright, I consider you to be a living being and slightly appreciate what you’re doing to Aen Seidhe elves in your world” to “I respect you” to “I would not die for you, but I would kill for you”. I’m still not entirely sure how much time I want it to take, but one decade is an absolute bare fricking minimum. Recently I’m kind of going more into putting it into a span of 20-25 years, actually. And it’s still not that much for Aen Elle elf.

What else... Ah, to figure out how the hell would Eredin even consider taking her alive, instead of killing her on the spot after she got trapped in Tir na Lia for the second time (in case you don’t know - I gave Rhan a highly unstable magic; she can’t create portals, because they always throw her to the place that is full of powerful magic, and doesn’t care for worlds barriers - and Tir na Lia is literally full of it), I went with the very long and tiring chase sequence; Rhan was able to run away for 5 days before she got captured, with barely any sleep available at that time, to kinda give this whole thing a vibe of an exciting (for Eredin, that is) chase, that is something new and interesting after the routine that is unicorn hunting / raiding human villages. The Raven Haired Bastard managed to be slightly, just sliiightly impressed by how long she was able to play this game, slipping from his riders by mere inches. Slightly. But that’s already some kind of a start to make it at least somehow believable. At least for my mind and my imagination.

And yes, I know he chased Ciri as well, but in her case it was a matter of life and death, because Eredin needed her blood, it was a matter of survival of the whole race, not chase for fun. In case of Rhan, it's more of a free-time challenge, a hunt for a difficult, but not that important prey. Aaand I don't like Cirilla, but that's another thing, yikes

... God, it was not supposed to be this long, I’m sorry. I just couldn’t make it shorter. And there are still probably things that I would like to mention, but just can’t think about them right now.

 

Moral of the story is - I dig complicated, dark and difficult relationships. I always go for them. Well, in 99% of the case.

[barnzbucky]

reach for the moon - chapter 2 (Ivar x Reader)

Pairing: Ivar x reader; Hvitserk x reader (quite a lot in this chapter)

Summary: Hvitserk finally found out who you were. Ivar and Ubbe need a plan to make Hvitserk stay in the agreements of his marriage.

Warnings: mention of arranged marriage; mentions of war; mentions of unrequited love; canon divergence; oc characters; fictional city; uncanon light hearted characters; cuteness of the wrong couple;  (please, let me know if I missed something)

Word count: 1.6k

A/N: Hi! I’m sorry for my inability to do anything useful these last few weeks, I hope you haven’t given up on me, haven’t been on tumblr for a while. Enjoy ❤️️

masterlist | series masterlist

In middle of laughing and flirting, Hvitserk had convinced you to take a detour from your original path, claiming it was his utmost obligation to show you around Kattegat, a town he had proudly showed off, saying it was seeing its best days thanks to him and his brothers. You couldn’t help giggling at the way he excitedly introduced you to the fishermen and the merchants selling their produce at the market, to the cows and goats passing around, to the children and the ancient, to the houses and the ships and the docks, and everything else you already knew by heart.

Initially you had been too shocked to tell him you had grown up in Kattegat, still having a hard time believing he hadn’t recognized you. But as the hours passed with him dragging you around, you managed to slip out that bit of information, and told him you knew each other. He was mostly embarrassed for not knowing who you were, so he avoided talking about it, quickly trying to distract you with baked goods or entertaining stories.

Walking hand in hand with Hvitserk was something you had daydreamed throughout your life more times than you could count. You had imagined how his eyes would be shining because of daylight and how his skin would feel against yours; what types of things you would talk about and if he would laugh at your jokes or say cheeky things you knew he usually said to women he was interested in. 

He did not disappoint you. Even while trying to show off, as he usually did, his eyes always fell back on you, and his warm hand only occasionally left yours, making you feel elated and special and bringing warmth to your whole body, something you were almost thankful for, because it made you ignore the cold completely.

It was almost dark, and with the sun hidden behind the clouds since earlier, you weren’t too sure you would be able to get home before nightfall if you stretched your outing much longer.

“That place is the Great Hall,” Hvitserk gestured towards the big wooden doors.

You chuckled, “I know the Great Hall, prince Hvitserk, I don’t think it changed at all.”

His eyes slightly widened and he squeezed your hand tighter. You had to stop yourself from laughing, because that was the exact reaction he had every time you’d mentioned something to do with you having lived in Kattegat before.

His adorable reaction distracted you from the bad memories immediately flooding your thoughts, and you had to take a deep breath to focus back on reality.

“Yes, I forget.” He laughed and scratched the back of his neck, “Do you want to go home now? We can go to yours or to mine.”

You laughed loudly at his attempt to take you to his bed, too amused to think much of it, “I think it would be better if you took me to my house and then go back to yours.”

“Are you not going to tell me who you are?” Hvitserk asked for what felt like the hundredth time. 

You were almost reaching your destination and he still didn’t know who you were, and you refused to tell him. As soon as you started to make your way to your house he dropped the embarrassed act and went to attempt guessing where he knew you from.

You hadn’t stopped laughing the entire way, too amused with the entire situation.

“No, I’m having too much fun!” you giggled, your cheeks almost hurting from the smile on your face.

“This is torture,” he groaned, throwing his head back. But he wasn’t truly annoyed, your sweet smiles and giggles, even if at his expenses, made up for it.

“Don’t worry, prince Hvitserk, you’ll remember me soon,” you grinned.

He shook his head, the crooked smirk never leaving his face, and squeezed your hand. You were sure he knew they way your heart reacted to those small touches, and did them on purpose just to make you flustered.

“There aren’t many people who live this far into the woods,“ he acknowledged with narrowed eyes, going back to his mission of finding out who you were, “I only know two.”

“Oh?” you gave a lopsided grin. He was getting closer, but you doubted he would figure it out before you got home. “Who?”

Before he could respond, you heard your name being shouted from afar and a second later your parents came into your view. Immediately dropping Hvitserk’s hand, you sprinted towards them, throwing yourself in their arms.

To be back home so far had been an otherworldly experience, but finally being able to see your parents, knowing you would see them tomorrow and the day after tomorrow made you feel ecstatic. They had been the only people you had to rely on for so long, supporting you through everything, and you felt the most happy being back beside them. You could finally say they didn’t have to worry about you anymore. Or so you hoped.

They whispered apologies in your ears, telling you your mother had a late commission for a dress outside of Kattegat, and they had lost track of time trying to get it done in time for the trading ship to arrive.

Hvitserk slowly made his way to you, your trunk in his hand, and your parents let you go.

“Thank you for bringing my daughter home, prince Hvitserk,” your father spoke politely, wary of him.

Hvitserk was astounded at the vision of your parents. He couldn’t believe he hadn’t recognized you. You knew each other since childhood; your father was one of the warriors training other people for the raiding parties Ragnar organized, and you were always around, trying to keep yourself from playing with Sigurd. 

But he remembered you being quite different than he was seeing now. Back then, you were shy and meek, nothing like the confident teasing woman he spent the day with.

He cleared his throat before answering, “Yes, Arne, I couldn’t let her unaccompanied.”

Your father approached him and took the baggage out of his hand before returning home with your mother, giving you and the prince privacy to talk.

“Thank you for the company, Hvitserk.“ 

“Of course, I go out of my way to help a friend, Y/N.” The mention of your name, indicating he, in fact, knew you, made you drop your head back and laugh loudly. “I can’t believe I didn’t know who you were.”

The subtle blush in his cheeks made your smile wider, “Well, I can’t blame you. I certainly look quite different.”

“Yes, you do,” he responded with the same tone he had been using the entire day, and you could almost sigh in relief because he didn’t stop his advances after learning who you were.

You slowly got closer to him until your noses were almost touching, his smirk matching yours.

“I’m sure you must be busy, I’m sorry I took so much of your time,” You said softly, your eyes going over his face. “Goodbye, prince Hvitserk.”

You couldn’t help but smile at his stunned expression, with eyes still fixed on you even after you turned your back and went after your parents, not waiting for his response.

Hvitserk walked into the Great Hall with a huge grin on his face, quite the contrast from the last time he was there. Ubbe was sitting at the table sipping on mead and he exchanged a surprise look with Ivar, sitting at the throne sharping one of his knifes in one of the few moments he had for himself.

“Hello, brothers,” he greeted cheerfully, patting Ubbe in the back and sitting beside him. Reaching a hand over the table, he grabbed a piece of bread and a the jar of mead, filling his cup to the brim and downing in one go. “You’ll never guess who’s back!”

Ivar raised a brow, still deciding whether he wanted or not to ask who made him so happy, “Who?”

“Y/N! Arne’s daughter,” Hvitserk ignored Ivar’s frown and shoved a piece of bread into his mouth, swallowing before speaking again, “she looks beautiful, I didn’t recognize her, can you believe it?”

“Hvitserk-”

“As much as I love to hear about the women you bring to your bed, Hvitserk, I have to remind you, you are getting married soon.” Ivar interrupted Ubbe, instantly reprimanding their brother.

“I don’t think Tove will care too much about other women, Ivar,” he chuckled, grabbing more bread and standing to go back outside before Ivar had the chance to ruin his good mood.

“But her father certainly will!”

“He is not here,” Hvitserk laughed and turned away, not waiting to hear his younger brother’s response or to look at the way he had to bite his hand to not lose his temper.

“That went well,” Ubbe broke the silence, wary of Ivar’s angry stance.

“We need to solve this,” Ivar breathed deeply, finally calm after a few seconds, “Fredrik’s going to be here soon, and if he sees the man betrothed to his daughter, who I promised would be somewhat faithful, with another woman, he will cancel the agreement and declare war on us. You know he battled for less.”

“What do you suggest we do, Ivar? Hm? It was already hard to have Hvitserk agree to this marriage, do you expect him to just… stop taking women and be loyal to someone he is marrying against his will?”

The king stopped for a minute, pondering his brother’s words, before deciding on an obvious resolve.

“She needs to go.” Before Ubbe could object to killing her, he spoke again, “we convince her to return to where she came from, Hvitserk marries Tove, and then she is free to come back to Kattegat and do whatever she wants.”

tags: @luvjiminssi ; @ryukjin ; @hecohansen31 ; @heavenly1927 ; @youbloodymadgenius ; @ace-fiction ; @poisonous00 ; @jzr201 ; @rose1729 ; @shestrying2write​ ; @zuxiezendler ; @learninglemni-blog ; @didiintheblog ; @the-jess-life  (if you’d like to be tagged or to be removed from the tag list, just send me a message/ask, no problem ☺️ if I wasn’t able to tag, please check if your blog is available to show on search) 

[kaidans-alenko]

Wrote a thing for my very dear and extremely talented friend @confundere(who yall need to follow because she’s amazing and just all around a very sweet person <3)  with her oc Persephone and Aiden <3

Supposed to be for ockiss week but that didn’t happen pfftt 

“At least Lily is honest with me.” He fired back at Persephone, they had been going back and forth with each other all morning while Lily and Aiden ran around the strip, it was all harmless fun of course. 

“Oh just barely, you said the whole first year of your relationship you still couldn’t fully tell how she felt.” Persephone teased.

“Yeah well she’s more honest with me than you and Aiden are with each other.”

“It’s complicated, we were both on Mindoir during the raid.” was the only explanation she gave.

“Yeah?” he didn’t fully understand the relevance but he was willing to hear her out.

Persephone looked at the fireplace in the apartment’s living room.

“And if I'm to be honest, the biggest part of why I got engaged to Thomas was because he was one of my last connections to home. I don’t want to just be with Aiden for that same reason. It didn't exactly end well the first time.” She told him.

It wasn’t something she had really said out loud before but if there was anyone she felt like she could be honest with it was Kaidan.

“I get it but at the same time, is that really a bad thing?”

Persephone looked over at him “Huh?” 

“Look and don’t tell her I brought it up but Lily told me that I have some similarities with her late fiance and at first it kind of bothered me but I thought about it and realized it’s not really a bad thing.” 

“You don’t feel like a replacement at all?”

Kaidan shook his head “Lily loved him and I believe she still does a little bit and I could let it bother me sure but she loves me for the same reason she loved him and i’m not going to sit here and say I won out because i’m with her now, that’s not fair and I certainly don’t feel that way but what i’m trying to say is you two really care about each other. Lily and I both agree on that and if one of the things that brings you two together is a number of shared experiences or in my case shared traits, then what’s the problem? If it was the only reason you’re attracted to him, yeah it might be an issue but I don’t personally believe that is the only reason.” 

Persephone sighed, she focused so much on burying these feelings she never really took a step back to think about what she actually liked about him "I like that I can trust him. The one person who I was supposed to be able to trust outed me but Aiden just... understands. And there's that rush when you can charge into battle with someone you trust. Mindoir was a conservative colony. Biotics had to hide themselves. And there's a part of me that wishes we'd been closer back then because maybe then I wouldn't have felt so alone with it. It's more than that though. Past us being biotics, past us both being soldiers. I can be myself around him... it's been awhile since I felt like that about someone. I'm not scared, or guarded."

“Are you ever going to tell him that?” Kaidan asked.

“How long did it take you to tell Lily?”

“Hey, in my defense we didn’t have any obvious chemistry like you two do.” 

Persephone shook her head, she didn’t believe him or rather she didn’t want to believe him “He’s got a war to win, it’s not the time maybe if we survive, we’ll see.”

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

"So," Lily started as she stole a piece of nigiri off of Aiden's plate "how are you and Persephone?" She pried, causing his face to turn the same shade as the tuna on his plate. 

"I don't know what you're talking about." He said defensively, tugging at his scarf, suddenly feeling hot at the mention of her name.

"Oh please," she rolled her eyes, mouth still full of sushi "You're the talk of the ship, I even started a betting poll." She told him as she swallowed.

"You what?!" Lily watched unfazed, sipping her all too sweet cocktail as he hopped out of his chair, a couple of guests glaring in their direction over the commotion Aiden was causing.

"I was bored and I figured 

 should be getting something out of this back and forth you two have going on." She shrugged, clearly not seeing a problem in what she just told him. 

Aiden ran a hand down his face as he fell back into his chair "What...exactly is written on the poll?"

"Oh nothing." She said, looking away from him.

"Lily, what does the poll say?"

Lily sighed, setting her glass down "what will happen first: the reapers wiping out the galaxy or Aiden and Persephone getting together?"

Aiden looked at her, eyes wide, he never got mad at his sister and he couldn't say he was now, it wasn't surprising behavior from her, he was simply mortified. Did Persephone know? God he hoped not.

"It's all harmless fun Ai." She said with a wave of her hand.

"Fine, but are you betting against me or for me?"

"Aiden! I'm appalled! Of course I'm betting for you, you're my brother."

 "What kind of money is on it anyway?" 

"Just a few thousand credits." She said nonchalantly.

"Thousand?!" Is the whole crew in on it?!" 

Lily thought about it as she shoved a sushi roll in her mouth "No...like about….eighty percent?"

"Eighty?!"

She shrugged "More or less, Aiden if I were any good at math I wouldn't be a marine okay?"

Aiden sighed, resting his head on the table, he wondered what Persephone thought of all this, if she even knew about it, he imagined Kaidan did but he wasn’t a gossip so he wasn’t concerned about her finding out from him “You’re the absolute worst.” he sighed.

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

Lily sat on the counter in the mess hall kitchen, watching them like a hawk as Aiden and Persephone conversed over breakfast, she hadn’t the faintest clue to what they could be talking about but Persephone had been laughing quite a bit, it had to be her way of flirting, there was no way her brother was that funny and Lily of all people would know. “Hey babe.” She said, sipping her hot cocoa as she waited for Kaidan to finish making breakfast.

Kaidan looked over his shoulder “Yeah?” 

“I think i’m gonna add more money to the poll.” she told him, eyes still fixated on the pair.

Kaidan rolled his eyes “I still think it’s an invasion of privacy.” 

“Hush, and besides there was one for us on the SR-1.”

“You’re joking.” at least he hoped so.

Lily shook her head “Swear on my life, where do you think I got the idea?”

He sighed as he went back to cooking “Do they even know about it?” 

Lily plucked one of the marshmallows out of her mug and very elegantly placed it in her mouth “It’s a small ship.”

“So that’s a yes?”

“It’s a maybe.” 

“Well whatever,” Kaidan placed the contents of the pan onto a plate and handed it to her “here.” 

Lily smiled, “Perks of dating a canadian, they make the best bacon.”

“That’s a stereotype.” he said as he turned off the stove.

“Sure, like you putting canadian bacon on your pizza is a stereotype.” she said as she put whatever passed for syrup up in space on her bacon, Kaidan shuddering as he watched in disgust. 

“First of all it’s just ham, second of all that’s disgusting.”

“Why because it’s not maple syrup?” she gave him a playful wink as she sucked a stray drop off her finger.

Kaidan scoffed “No.” 

“Snob.” Lily teased as she exited the small kitchen, Kaidan following behind her. 

They sat at the other end of the table “Not sitting with your brother today?” Kaidan asked, a little surprised they only did that when they fought and they hardly ever fought.

Lily shook her head “Nope! I’m gonna let whatever that is play out.” she said smugly, as if them talking was her doing. Kaidan still didn’t think it was any of their business but when did Lily ever listen to him? “I know it might seem like meddling but I really just want them to be happy and it seems to me that they make each other happy, he’s had a crush on her since we were kids after all.” she watched them talk with a gentle smile on her face, there was one thing people forgot about her, something hidden behind her imp like behavior and it was that she actually had a good heart. She wasn’t callous just for the sake of it, if she cared about someone she wanted what was best for them and it may seem like meddling to people on the outside but she did care about Aiden and Persephone and wanted them both to be happy and if that happiness lay with each other then she wanted to help even if it was from the sidelines.

Lily smiled and she had just the idea “Kaidan, how hard would it be to overload one of the elevators in here?” 

“Edi might have some firewalls that prevent hacking but overloading it shouldn’t be-” he paused, she was up to something “why?”

“Oh...no reason.” If they wouldn’t deal with this on their own then she’d force their hand “just call it tough sibling love.”

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

Persephone arched her back, bringing her arm up as far as she could, her finger tips only barely brushing against the zipper to her under armor as she tried to pull it down but to no avail “Ugh!” she groaned looking around for someone to help when her eyes landed on Aiden who had the top part of his hanging around his waist as he worked on taking off his greaves. Don’t stare Persephone. Don’t. She repeated in her head but it was impossible, it was a wonder he didn’t already have someone waiting for him, she had heard from Lily he was with Liara briefly but not anymore. For someone as handsome and just down right charming as he was, she couldn’t believe it. 

Persephone cleared her throat “Aiden, could I get your help?” she asked as composed as she possibly could. 

Aiden looked up, his eyes peeking through the long black hair that had fallen out of his bun and into his face “Yeah?” did he even know how cute he was? Was it on purpose? He was driving her insane. 

“I can’t unzip my under armor, could you help me?” She tried not to make her voice sound like those girls in the extranet fetish vids joker kept on his hard drive but she was essentially asking him to undress her, it was gonna sound like that no matter what tone she used. Good thing she never was one for batting her eyelashes or this interaction would have a totally different connotation. 

Aiden felt his face flush, Persephone wanted him to….what? In reality it was just pulling her zipper down enough to where she could reach it herself but even still “Uh yeah, yeah of course.” 

Luckily she had to face away from him anyway because it was getting hard to keep her composure the closer he got to her “Just midway should be fine.” she told him, voice as cool as a cucumber.

“Gotcha” There was nothing sensual about this, just one soldier helping another with their zipper, nothing more nothing less. Aiden swallowed hard as he slowly pulled the zipper down her back, trying not to stare as he revealed more of that perfectly tan skin of hers. 

Persephone couldn’t breath, her mind was going a mile a minute thinking of all the possible scenarios where the context of him undressing her would be much different and she needed to stop. To think of anything other than what his hands would feel like on her skin, the scent of the cologne he wore that had long worn off by now and what his stubble would feel like on her- “Okay, there you go.” he said snapping her out of her thoughts. 

“Oh...uh right, thank you.” Persephone reached her hand back, finally able to reach the zipper and part of her wanted to undress in front of him but it was still fraternization and in the middle of a war who was really paying attention, Lily and Kaidan being a prime example of that and at this point it was just a convenient excuse for her to use to deny what she actually wanted. 

Aiden turned and walked away to finish taking off his own armor, doing his best not to look at Persephone as he did.

“Ya know Persephone you should really invest in a catsuit like me.” Lily suggested, half teasing. 

“A catsuit?”

Lily nodded “Yup, zipper in the front so when you’re done you can just slide it right off no problem and it's also pretty comfy.” 

“Those offer no damage protection and not only that, the alliance doesn’t allow them for obvious reasons.” Aiden interjected as he tried not to imagine her in a catsuit.

“Yeah well the handbook says we can wear what we want if N7 is written somewhere on it and,” Lily pointed at her “she’s part of the club like us so technically if she wanted to she could.” 

Persephone giggled “I’ll take it into consideration Lily, thank you.” 

“See Aiden, I was only trying to help my friend.” She said with a smirk.

Aiden rolled his eyes ‘Sure.” she couldn’t fool him but he really hoped Persephone didn’t take her advice, he wasn’t sure he’d survive seeing her in a catsuit even if for one mission. 

The four of them walked to the elevator, Lily grabbing Kaidan’s wrist and pulling him back as she overloaded the elevator, the doors closing and locking Aiden and Persephone in together. “Did you just do what I think you did?” Kaidan asked.

“Yup and they aren’t leaving until they’ve kissed at least.” She stated matter of fact as she sat on the unoccupied weapons bench.

Kaidan sighed, in reality he could’ve just as easily gotten them out of there but he knew if he did Lily wouldn’t be too happy with him and the cons of that out weighed the pros unfortunately.

“Did she just?” Persephone asked, baffled.

“Yup.” Aiden nodded.

“Why?” she asked again. 

“Who knows.” He sure as hell couldn’t read his sister’s mind no matter how hard he tried and he has tried. 

Brown eyes met ocean blue and god it was such a cliche but he could’ve drowned in them, not just her eyes either, everything about her was beautiful, he thought he had gotten over his crush but the more he was around her the more these feelings he harbored for her so long ago came back but even stronger now. It was stupid to hope for anything, there was a war and she had ended her egagement not too long ago and he didn’t want to make it uncomfortable for her if he said anything and he cetianlly wasn’t about to set himself up just to be rejected. 

 “Commander, I have something I want to say to you.” it was stupid to call him by his rank just to tell him about her feelings for him but she was nervous and her brain automatically defaulted back to work.

Aiden went fully into commander mode “Of course, now’s as good a time as any.” 

“Listen Aiden, I like you.”

Aiden blinked at her, his brain short circuiting as he processed what she just said “I like you too Persephone, you’re a valuable crew member and friend.” that had to be what she meant right?

She sighed “Aiden what I mean is, I like you, like really like you.” 

Aiden was in full panic mode, did she mean…? No, No of course not! Couldn’t be “As a friend?” 

“No Aiden,” god he was dense, beautiful, but so very dense “I mean I have feelings for you.” she bluntly told him “romantic feelings.” 

“O-oh…” He said, his voice cracking “that’s uh...that’s great…” 

“Great?” She raised an eyebrow at him, she thought he felt the same, had she been wrong?

“Yeah, I mean...yeah!” Aiden had never been a smooth talker, he got flustered way too easily and some people found it endearing other’s not so much. Hopefully Persephone wasn’t the latter.

 “Do you not like me?”

“No I do!” He exclaimed, shocking them both “I uh...I always have.” 

“Why didn’t you say anything?”

“You and Thomas were so close and you’re gorgeous and as you can see i’m incredibly awkward with these things and I didn’t think I even had a chance so….” 

This time it was her turn to be surprised “You’ve had feelings for me since we were kids?”

Aiden nodded “Yeah, I thought they went away and when I saw you again and got to spend more time with you they all came back, I don’t know if it’s because we’re both survivors of the raid or because you’re a vanguard like me but they’re different from the boyish crush I had on you years ago.” he confessed. 

Persephone couldn’t help herself, after hearing how he truly felt, that after all these years he still had feelings for her, it was almost a miracle, she didn’t believe in soul mates but what were the odds that after all these years they’d find each other again and that he’d still have feelings for her. Persephone pushed Aiden back against the wall of the elevator, kissing him, he was taller than her but her heels made kissing him a much easier feat as opposed to if she was Lily’s height. 

Aiden’s eyes widened in surprise, every muscle tensed at the feelings of her lips on his, he could hardly believe this was happening, guess he had to thank his sister later. He wrapped one arm around her waist and tangled a hand in her blonde hair as they kissed, both intoxicated by each other as soon as the elevator was working they were going straight to the captain's cabin there was no denying that, it was just a question of who hit the button first.

Suddenly the elevator started moving again, pulling them apart, a message from Lily pinging his omni-tool.

“You’re welcome ;)”

Was all it said and he rolled his eyes “That brat…” he said under his breath, he couldn’t be too mad considering how it turned out but that wasn’t the point. 

Suddenly the elevator stopped and Persephone was dragging him into the cabin “Think you still have some energy after that mission soldier?” she winked.

Aiden smirked, picking her up, making her giggle as he carried her the rest of the way “Aye aye ma’am.” 

[lisinfleur]

Incomer

The Request:

Author’s Notes | Notes Universe | Vikings Pairing | Ivar x Reader, Ivarsðóttir x OC!Einar Info | Viking Age AU, requested by @justanawolf​ for 5CW7 Words | 2762 ⁑ Warnings: Some cursing. Mentions to violence, death, and blood. Insinuations to rape.

"Ivar Ragnarsson!"

Ivar sighed in his throne. You were once again disturbing his mind with that inconceivable idea of marrying his beautiful daughter to that boy...

That thin and weak boy that invaded his life years ago, playing with his precious daughter as if he would grow enough to become the raider he pretended to be in their imagination.

Your daughter and he used to play together all the time and Einar, who was the son of a local farmer, was a good boy in your sight. He never tried anything improper, always playing like a good boy, respectful, a good worker, well educated... The fact was that the stupid boy had grown into adult life and became a man, for Ivar's disgust: it would have been easier if Hella had taken him as Ivar thought would happen. And now, you were there, for the hundredth time in that year, remembering him your daughter and that thin thing were starting to get involved... That he should prepare to discuss her marriage to that annoying remembrance of Sigurd's bardic traces walking through his Hall after his precious daughter's skirts. He was even good with the oud! The oud!

Sigurd was a damn plague in his life and Ivar could bet he was laughing at his face from Valhalla, celebrating with toasts his curses becoming true under the skin of that infamous boy his daughter was so in love with.

"He's weak," he insisted, sighing bored when you started again the whole speech.

He knew what would come, but even then, there you were, speaking, and speaking...

"...And strength is not everything! Nor is stamped in his face, Ivar. If it was like this, then my father should have denied your pledge for my hand," you said, catching his attention and an angry glare in his eyes.

You wouldn't dare to compare that thin little boyish thing to him, right?

"You were a cripple weak rag of a boy in his sight, but he gave you a chance to prove yourself and you did it! You owe Einar a chance as well!"

You would.

And it infuriated him - of course! What would infuriate Ivar the Boneless more than messing with his ego?

"I'm nothing like that boy and I owe him nothing!" he said with his powerful voice, looking at you with sharp blues. "Well, he wants to marry my daughter? So, if you want so badly to compare the two of us, tell him to do what I did! Tell him to conquer kingdoms and kill kings, to gather an army and have lands under his control! Tell him to become a commander, a successful raider, and a king! And then, I'll gladly offer my daughter's hand in marriage and maybe an alliance!"

You crossed your arms. He knew he was going too far, but Ivar never knows when to stop...

"As long as he's standing under my boots on our society, then he'll have no chances to have my beautiful Freya bearing his children!"

"You rather sell our daughter to a foreigner king for an alliance, I suppose... Right, King Ivar?"

He drew back. It was a slap on his face, and you knew it. You did it on purpose, just to see that frown in his forehead.

The subject was over. None of you wanted to speak about that anymore. You turned yourself to leave and his voice echoed, calling your attention.

"I'll be leaving on a short trip at the end of this moon..."

"Don't you dare to suggest taking the boy with you, Ivar," you said, immediately looking back.

"I won't get him killed on purpose! For the gods' sake, woman, what do you think I am?" he answered, offended by the obvious concern in your sentence.

But you stood on your position, looking straight inside his eyes.

"A father, Ivar," you answered, slapping his face without your hands one second time. "One disposed to do anything for what he thinks is his daughter's safety. Einar stays. Our daughter loves him too much for me to allow your concerns to hurt this innocent relationship. I rather see them as friends forever than hold my daughter's cry if her heart goes with him."

Wise words... For his disgust once again.

Damn him for marrying a woman able to outsmart his plans and, sometimes, see forward in his steps. He had no intention to harm the boy, but you were right: his raids weren't for a farmer and if Einar didn't come back, his precious Freya would suffer twice: for the future love never built and for the friendship lost.

"Fine. We'll solve this when I come back," he stated.

Something you could accept. With a heated head, nor Ivar or you would think straight and it was the future of your daughter in your hands. Freya's happiness was more important than anything.

"Baldur will come with me. Such as Tyr," Ivar declared about the raid and you sighed.

Your children were growing so fast... Last night you were waking up for Tyr's nightmares, and now there he was, a young man, walking around with Hvitserk, drinking with Baldur, looking the skirts around.

Going to raids with his father and brother...

"I'll make the sacrifices to provide you a safe trip and safe return, husband," you said, looking at him.

Sometimes words weren't necessary.

"I'll take good care of them, my love. Not that I really have to once Baldur fights like a beast and Tyr honors his name, but I'll take good care of them, don't worry."

It didn't really matter for you and Ivar knew that. They could fight like his best men and be greater than his father, and yet, Baldur and Tyr would always be your little boys.

Boys you thought you would never see one more time when those men invaded your home. Ivar's self-confidence was a mistake and sometimes, a few times, it would really cause a disaster.

This time he thought his fame and name would be enough to keep small invaders away from his lands. He thought they wouldn't dare to threaten his kingdom, nor his wife, nor his daughter...

"Mother!"

Your heart crushed in a thousand pieces when you had your daughter brutally ripped from your embrace. Those men touching her, holding you, trying to lift your skirt, speaking offensively about how your husband would hunt them if he ever knew who fucked his wife and daughter to death the way they were planning.

"Or else I could put a child on her belly and leave the crippled king a boy with my face," one of them boasted touching your lower belly right before you spat on his face.

"I would rip my own womb before bearing your child, you bastard!" you cursed and he slapped your face, throwing your body on the ground, starting to rip your dress.  

His curses and words, telling you how he would give you the taste of a whole man before you could prove his sword, were cut in the middle when someone crossed his chest with a sword. You felt the blood spatting on your back and the weight of the dead body, but your instinct screamed louder and you stole that dead man's sword, getting up to help whoever was the man fighting to get your daughter free.

You were no shieldmaiden. But you were a mother and somehow Frigga imbued your heart with her strength and you sunk that blade on the shoulder of one of the bastards while your savior was trespassing the third one.  

Quickly, he ran to lock and block the door and so, as your daughter was falling on your embrace, crying like a child, your eyes could recognize your savior coming closer, fully worried about his beloved princess in your hands.

"Einar..." you mumbled as Freya threw herself into the boy's hug.

You watched in relief as he held your child in his arms, hiding her completely into his embrace, mumbling sweet words into your daughter's scared ears.

There was so much love between them... How could Ivar deny he was the perfect husband to your sweet daughter?

As Einar's hands consoled your crying daughter, slowly lulling her into his embrace, you straightened your dress, trying to keep yourself covered and see if there were wounds beyond the scratch bleeding on your face. The sounds of battle could be heard outside and somehow, they became stronger in your Hall.

You couldn't determine if someone had arrived to kill the invaders or if the raiders had backup now, but the cries of battle were closer and higher, and so, Einar showed his bravery once again.

"No... Einar, please no!" your child cried as the boy delivered her into your embrace.

She wasn't calm anymore. Instead, she was terrified of seeing him holding that sword.

"Please!" she begged, but Einar just touched Freya's face with a gentle caress.

"Don't worry, my princess. I'll be fine. And if I fall here, then I wasn't worthy of your heart, my love. What man can desire a woman he cannot protect?"

Wise words. A wise man... You held your daughter and touched her face.

"The gods know how much you love each other, my child. Don't worry... If we fall into this place, I ensure you'll find him again," you said, having nothing but some more tears from your crying daughter as Einar straightened himself, holding the sword like a true warrior, waiting for the small barricade of the door to fall.

It didn't take too long until the sounds reached your room and Freya yelled when a strong impact broke the door open. But despite prepared for a huge fight, Einar's shoulders relaxed when Whitehair came into the room followed closely by the king and his men.

"Father!" your girl cried and Ivar came closer, embracing you and her as Baldur and Tyr were looking around searching for any other invader at the room.

"My child... My love... Are you wounded?" Ivar asked.

His heart was hammering his chest like a midsummer drum.

"We're safe... Thanks to Einar," you said, causing the eyes to turn towards the boy that was still holding his sword, tiredly.

Baldur sheathed his own blade as Tyr came closer, to touch his forehead to yours. The older brother and Ivar were focused on the boy who was now panting a little less, relieved the king was back.

Before they could say anything, Freya released herself from Ivar's arms, throwing her own arms around Einar's waist, hiding her crying face in his chest, causing the young warrior to release his sword in order to hold her against him.

"Did you protect my daughter and wife, boy?" Ivar asked, not sounding so hostile towards the boy now.

"Not as good as my king would have done, but I tried my best to keep them safe, King Ivar," he answered, respectfully.

But you didn't lose your chance.

"He's being modest... The boy saved my life and our honor," you spoke, soothing your husband's glare towards Einar. "He came into this room with bravery and faced three enemies in order to get us free from their hands and blades. Two of them he killed by himself. One with my help. And to keep Freya's safety and mine, he was disposed to keep on fighting whoever would come through this door, husband." you testified.

Einar lowered his head, touching his nose in your daughter's hair, trying to keep her calm as she was slowly stopping the loud sobs.

"Then, you learned what I taught you," Baldur said, kinda proud, surprising both of you when he turned himself towards his father. "Einar has been training with me and Tyr for some lessons with the sword, father," he said.

"He said he wants to prove you he's a good man... For Freya's hand," Tyr completed, kinda exposing the boy, causing Einar to look at your husband insecure and scared.

"It's not that I believe I'm worthy, I just..." he started trying to justify himself, but Ivar raised his hand causing him to shut and you to prepare your arguments to defend the boy.

But this time, there weren't bad words.

"I would never question the value of a man that offered his chest to protect my most precious treasures. You know you could have died into this room, don't you, boy?" Ivar asked.

To what Einar looked into his eyes, seeming to create the courage to face your husband for the first time.

"My king doesn't fear the death for Valhalla awaits him in the end. Why should I fear if I want to be like him?"

Words that sounded like a huge surprise, causing Ivar's barriers to crumble.

"What did you just say, boy?"

"That I know I'm a farmer, with poor origins and thin blood. And I know I have a long way to prove my value under your eyes, King Ivar. But such as you fought the whole world and proved yourself despite all your obstacles, I want to make me worthy of Freya's love and your trust. I love your daughter, King Ivar. I have been loving her my whole life and I would die for her without a single question if it was necessary to keep her safe."

Baldur smiled, Tyr giggled and you slapped your younger son's shoulder for the sounds, reprehending him like a boy for laughing of another's feelings.

But Ivar looked right into Einar's eyes. Freya was still hidden into his embrace that somehow Einar was managing to sustain longer than you could imagine he would in front of your husband.

"You have strong words. And a fierce heart. You said you want to be like me, so I'll teach you what is missing in your speech, boy."

For a second, you thought once again that Ivar would destroy Einar with his words, but your fears did not become true one more time. Instead, Ivar touched the boy's shoulder with a tight grip.

"Know that you would die for her makes me proud. See that you will fight to live for her makes me relieved. Die for your wife if this is your fate, boy, but love her enough to fight to live for her until your last breath. Did you understand me, son?"

Son...

You and your sons smiled at the sound of that word.

Your husband was accepting Einar as his son-in-law and you knew that in that discrete change on the way Ivar was calling him.

"Yes, my king..." Einar answered, with his eyes shining.

And Ivar sighed. It was easy to see the loyalty and strength into that boy's eyes.

Maybe the gods had permitted that invasion to give the boy the chance you said he should have. And Einar had proven himself to him, despite the fact that Ivar would never admit it with all the words in his mouth. The best he could do was to stop trying to scare the boy to the bones away from his daughter.

But for now, it was time to negotiate details...

"We have to fix this Hall and get rid of the bodies. It will take a while... Tell your father to prepare his guest room... The king's family will dinner at your farm tonight," Ivar spat, draining Einar's color completely before Ivar started walking out of the room.

This time you couldn't avoid smiling as Baldur patted your soon-to-be son-in-law and Tyr giggled jumping the bodies, just like Hvitserk used to do, to follow his father out of the door.

"Tell your mother to make that chicken, brother!” He said before crossing the door starting to speak with Baldur. “Boy, Einar's mother's chicken is the best I ever ate!"

And there was your Tyr, thinking on food despite the fact that the hall around him was made into pieces… You should talk to Ivar about the huge amount of time Tyr was passing with his uncle... But for that moment, you walked towards Einar, caressing your daughter's hair in his embrace.

"Don't worry, child," you said, touching his face. "He likes you... Such as I do. Take care of my princess. I'm sure she's in the best hands," you said, before seeing Freya smiling between her tears towards you.

Maybe the gods had messed things up for a reason. Maybe all the suffering had a purpose. The fact was that Einar would have his place in your husband's Hall and you were satisfied to see your daughter's eyes glowing with love once again.

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[actuallykiwi]

OC-tober 7th: Pre and Post Game Life

OC: Annie Sinclair, Alec Sinclair / Featuring: Codsworth, Nick, Hancock, mentioned names

Enjoy :) 

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

Spring would always be Annie’s favorite season, but man she loved fall, too. Especially since the weather was just perfect for a Saturday. 

October 23, 2077 was her first day off from the day care in weeks, and she was looking forward to it. She lie in bed and remembered telling the kids in her class yesterday about how excited she was to go see a movie with her best friend, walk around the park, and then have her favorite meal with Alec for dinner.

So when she rose from her pillow that morning, little did she know her plans would change drastically. 

“Morning, Codsworth!” She said cheerfully as she approached him in the kitchen. 

“Ah, good morning, mum! Your coffee; 173.5 degrees Fahrenheit, brewed to perfection!” The Mr. Handy robot spun around the counter, carefully holding the steaming mug out to her. She chuckled, “Why, thank you! Glad I actually have time to enjoy it today.” She carefully set it on the counter and prepared her blasphemous amounts of cream and sugar. Typically Codsworth would do that, but it was the one thing Annie insisted on doing herself. Mainly because he commented on the sheer amount of sugar and caffeine she poured into it each day. 

“I’m assuming sleepyhead is still asleep?” She wondered out loud to Codsworth. “Yes, mum! Sir Alec is peacefully sleeping his day away, though I did hear him mumble something about space monkeys at around 4 am.” 

Annie laughed. “He is a space monkey. But he did get off from his shift pretty late last night. I’m gonna check on him.” She grabbed her coffee and headed down the hall to his closed door. After gently knocking, she cracked it open just enough to poke her head in. 

His soft snoring drifted into the hallway. Army fatigues littered the floor next to his bed from when he was too exhausted to change last night. “Bless your heart, Al. They’re working you to death. What exactly are they expecting to-?” 

The doorbell echoed from the living room, causing Annie to jump and Alec’s snoring to pause for a brief moment, then resume quietly. 

Annie placed her coffee back on the counter. “I believe it’s that salesman again, Miss Annie. He can’t take ‘no’ for an answer, can he?” Codsworth explained from the window. “He’s just doing his job, Cods. Let’s see what’s up.” She tightened her bathrobe and adjusted her bun before opening the door. 

“Good morning! Vault-Tec calling!” A Vault-Tec Sales Rep approached her with an all-too-wide smile on his face. “Good morning!” She politely smiled back. 

“Isn’t it? Just look at that sky up there!” He paused to gesture also-too-widely, and cleared his throat when she nodded awkwardly. “*ahem*  You can't begin to know how happy I am to finally speak with you. I've been trying for days. It's a matter of utmost urgency, I assure you.” 

“Oh, well, then I’m sure glad you came!” She laughed nervously. 

“Yes ma’am, I am too. Now, I know you're a busy woman, so I won't take up much of your time. Time being a, um, precious commodity... I'm here today to tell you that because of your family's service to our country, you have been pre-selected for entrance into the local Vault. Vault 111.” This man bounced back and forth from being overly excited to clearly being afraid of something. Annie was beginning to be a little worried. “Oh, okay, uh, great! Where do we sign up?” 

“You’re actually already cleared for entry! Just need to verify some information, is all, you know, in case of uh.. total atomic annihilation.” He whispered the last part. 

Now Annie was worried. “Right, okay...” She took the clipboard and filled out the information, while tentatively watching him glance around nervously. “You don’t think that will actually happen, do you..?” 

He took the clipboard from her. “U-uh, well it’s always better to be prepared, right?” He glanced down at the papers. “Wonderful! I’ll just run these over to the vault, and congratulations on being prepared for the future-!” 

The door was closed suddenly as half-awake Alec leaned against it. “That guy again? Annie, don’t tell me you bought anything from him?” 

“No, of course not! He was just telling us that we’re cleared for entry into that vault on the hill, in case of ‘total atomic annihilation!’“ She mimicked the sales rep, and Alec chuckled. “Yep, thanks to yours truly.” He grinned and wandered off to get his coffee from Codsworth. 

“Well, I’m gonna go freshen up real quick.” Annie stretched and went to the bathroom for just that. 

A few moments passed, and she was just finishing tying her bandana up in her hair when she overheard Alec from the living room. “Wait, Cods, turn that up.” 

“What’s going on?” She asked as she entered the living room, finding Alec huddled by the TV. 

“Followed by... yes, followed by flashes. Blinding flashes. Sounds of explosions... We're... we're trying to get confirmation... But we seem to have lost contact with our affiliate stations... W-We do have coming in... That's um... confirmed reports. I repeat, confirmed reports of nuclear detonations in New York and Pennsylvania. My God.”

The TV went black. Silence roared as Annie and Alec exchanged fearful looks. 

Then all hell broke loose when the air raid sirens cried their woeful cry. 

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

How much time had passed? 1 day? 1 week? 1 year? She didn’t know. But when Annie opened her frosted eyes, it felt like it had been ages. A horrible gag escaped her throat when her pod suddenly opened, causing her to fall to her hands and knees and retch on the floor. 

She took deep, heaving breaths and shivered. “That... was not a decontamination pod.” She muttered. The difficult part was standing up, as if she had forgot how to. But she was able to weakly get on her feet and stumble to her brother’s pod directly across from hers. Only, she wasn’t expecting to find it already open, and empty. 

“W-what? Alec!?” She cried out, and turned to look around. “Alec!!??” 

Then, ever so faintly she swore she imagined it, she heard it way off in the distance. “Anneka!!”  

They made a promise to each other when they were little. A promise to only say each other’s full names when something was really wrong. And she knew, not only from her full name, but from the plain fear in his voice that something was very, very wrong. 

“ALEXANDER!!” She screamed, and began staggering as fast as she could towards the exit. She only paused when the door wouldn’t open to cough some more, then promptly gained her footing and ran to find another way out. 

The only thing that made her pause again was the site of the roaches the size of small dogs. And the several vault-tec-adorned skeletons littering the vault. “How long has it been...?” When she found the 10mm pistol, she was glad Alec taught her to shoot when she was in high school. It made the rest of her escape easier for her. 

When she eventually found the Pip-Boy and made it to the elevator, it was coming down, when it should have been up this whole time. She called his name again, but when there was yet again no answer, she tentatively stepped onto the platform and let it raise her joltingly to the surface. 

A thousand thoughts were swimming through her mind, so when she adjusted to the sudden sunlight, she wasted no time in jumping off before the platform even fully stopped and frantically began calling his name. “Alexander!!! Alec!! Al-...Al...” 

And she took it all in. The world she once knew, decayed to almost nothing. All the green, gone. All the life, dissipated. She fell to her knees in shock. “A...Alec...” And the tears fell. The tears fell and the vocal cords were strained from agony. 

Moments passed before she finally lifted herself from the ground, dusting off her vault suit, still damp with frost. 

And a new fire burned in her. An inferno of determination to find her brother, and adapt to this new, terrifying world. 

“Don’t worry, Alec. I promise you..” She adjusted her glasses and looked at the sky. “I will find you if it’s the last thing I do.” 

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

“And I did... didn’t I...?” She said quietly to herself. 

Annie had been walking around Sanctuary, reminiscing about her promise, and where it’s taken her. In the backyard of her dilapidated house, a small, white handmade cross sit still on a mound, covered in wildflowers. And an aging military picture of Alexander Sinclair was pinned safely in the middle. 

“I just wish I could’ve found you sooner. But, no sense dwelling on that, right? I’m happy for those last few moments I had with you.” She crouched in front of him and rubbed the picture endearingly. Tears trickled down as she smiled sorrowfully at him. “I miss you, Alec. Every day. But we’re making a peaceful Commonwealth here. You’d be happy.” 

“Annie? Time for the speech, doll.” Nick called from the house. 

“Oh, coming!” She wiped her face quickly. “Sorry, looks like I’m needed! I’ll be back soon. Love you.” She kissed her fingers and tapped them on the picture, then scurried back to the street where the crowd was waiting. 

A soap box sat patiently waiting for her underneath the strung lights along the street, and the banner from the tree that read “United Commonwealth 1st Anniversary!” Everyone was chatting amongst each other until Annie took her place on the box. 

“Everyone! Today we celebrate the 1 year anniversary of peace in the Commonwealth!” 

A roar of applause. 

She laughed. “I know our version of ‘peace’ may seem odd, but as tenuous as it is, we must celebrate every moment we have of it, which is why 1 year is cause for such a huge celebration!” Applause. “1 year ago today, I made an agreement with every faction, city, and settlement to compromise in all our endeavors. I met with each of the leaders, including the new mayor of Diamond City, Hancock of Goodneighbor, Preston of the Minutemen, Maxson of the Brotherhood, and yes, even the leader of the Institute, with whom we had the most... animosity. But they have agreed to stop the kidnapping, the experiments, and to leave the Commonwealth alone unless it’s to help us. By their terms, we also leave them alone, and help voluntarily with whatever they need should they need it. The Brotherhood has agreed to help, not control, with building up the Commonwealth defense. And the Minutemen are still setting up settlements, now with the help of the Brotherhood. I know there’s still some hatred amongst us, especially for the Institute. But we need to put that hatred aside if we’re ever going to thrive again. Continue to stand with me, with each other, and let’s continue making the Commonwealth a better place.” Hancock handed her a Nuka Cola. “TO THE UNITED COMMONWEALTH!” 

“TO THE UNITED COMMONWEALTH!” There was another roar of applause, and everyone happily cheered, danced, cried, and just celebrated. 

Hancock helped her down from the box and watched the crowd with her. “Good speech, sunshine. But part of me is kinda worried.” 

“About?” She asked as she took a swig of cola. 

“About this ‘tenuous peace’ you’ve worked so hard to achieve. I know you’ve got an optimistic way of lookin’ at things, but it probably ain’t gonna last. A year is lucky.”  

“I know. That’s why we need to celebrate while we can, before someone disagrees with someone else, and then it’s back to square one.” 

“Right. Then it’s the war all over again.” 

She chuckled sadly. “Well, if it ever comes to that, it’s like Alec always said...” She took a long drink from her cola and sighed. 

“’War never changes.’“