#and his exploding cufflinks.

[themalhambird]

It's WIP Wednesday!

And thanks to the Power of NaNoWriMo (but the off brand, excel spreadsheet version that's way less involved and therefore less scary) I actually have *checks notes* works in active progress!

...have some "Escape Velocity but it's all about Nero because side characters are fun and I can't write children. "

Against the backdrop of a quietly murmuring crowd, a summer breeze blowing in across the Thames, Captain Hardcourt hears Trent’s command come through his ear piece and curls his finger around the trigger of his rifle. “On your knees, Nero- hands behind your head.” “I don’t kneel.” The target’s voice is cool and cultured, smoother than silk. “For your sake…Sergeant? Commander?” “Captain,” Captain Hardcourt says, then immediately wonders why he’d given the bastard anything.  “Captain,” The target says agreeably. “For your sake, and the sake of that delightful set of squaddies behind you, might I suggest that you kindly back off?” Hardcourt scoffs. “You’re surrounded. Comrade Stiff there-” he jerks his chin as the corpse on the floor, “- isn’t going to be much help, and as for your associate…if she’s not dead already, more than a minute in the Thames with an open wound will kill her faster than you can blink.” Nero slowly blinks. Like some great cat slowly calculating how quickly it can fuck up your day while conning you in to thinking it’s a friend. He knows he’s got the high ground- he knows the numbers, the weapons, the fact of the watching crowd are all on his side, and yet…he feels just the faintest frisson of unease.  “Show me your hands,” he barks again. “Lieutenant-” he swings himself to the side, nods at Lieutenant Musgrove and steps back to give the other man the space to pull the pin on the chloroform grenade, and throw it into the capsule. At the same time Nero draws his hands from his pockets and flicks his wrists, almost faster than the eye can follow- Trent swears and jumps back as the sound of two independent explosions feed back into his headset via twelve different microphones.

[thatbanditqueen]

Basic Training Ch 6

Summary: Bess spends a Friday evening with Elvis on base, and gets excited for the party he invited her to the next day. We learn a little more about Bess' family as she gets ready to meet Elvis' friends, however, things do not go as planned.

Warnings: Fingering, dry humping, descriptions of the ever elusive female orgasm (not when Elvis is around....), and discussions of mental illness.

WC: 8.4 K i tried and failed to stick to my 5 - 6 k goal

My writing is very much influenced by the other women I write with, my lovely sister wives @be-my-ally @vintageshanny @missmaywemeetagain @from-memphis-with-love @ellie-24 @powerofelvis @peskybedtime and @shakerattlescroll give me suggestions, answer my research queries and help me find the will to live and write. Also, thanks to @ab4eva and @lookingforrainbows for their enthusiasm because honestly yes I thrive on engagement with other Elvis fans.

Special shout out to @whositmcwhatsit from whom I have stolen her characterization of Elvis learning what an OC likes as he pleasures her in bed, changing his voice when he is alone with an OC vs. in front of others, using his thumbs to rub OCs backs.... basically I subscribe to the belief that all art is deriative and collaborative and I pinch things unwittingly from everyone who I read regularly so thank you, and sorry, no, I won't ask for permission. I am a bandit queen after all. But if you have read @whositmcwhatsit's stuff you might find some of my characterizations of Elvis familiar and you should probably go read some of her stuff instead. She also alpha'd this for me and gave me lots of feedback and dialogue/plot ideas. But no Jade, I am already too jealous of your talents to give you co-author credit so stop begging me (in my head).

You can read the previous chapters of this fic about Elvis at Fort Hood in 1958 here

This is the playlist I made for this chapter. Kewl kids do that.

Chapter 6: Guided Missiles

Friday, April 11, 1958

7:07 p.m.  on the grounds of Fort Hood, Killeen, TX

Guided missiles, bound to explode

Destroying my heart is your goal

You have succeeded in making me blue

Now I know the enemy is you

The Cufflinks’ “Guided Missiles” played over the radio as Bess navigated her car along the base road, she had just begun to relax her thigh into Elvis’ leg while enjoying how he crooned along into her hair with the song. Then she felt his hand on her inner thigh and bolted upright with a gasp, trying to wiggle him off as she changed gears.

“You are making it hard for me to drive, Tupelo.”

Elvis snickered under his breath, enjoying the way Bess shivered from the way his hand moved her hem up.

“I’m jus’ being helpful, Moo Moo, this skirt’s so goddamn tight, don’t know how you can change gears.”

Bess shook her head as she pulled into the PX parking lot, sliding his hand out of her legs.

“Well, aren’t you chivalrous?”

“Zat’s me, baby.” Elvis’ lips were nibbling her ear. “I’d open your door any day.” Somehow his hand was back between her legs and she gasped when it feathered over her panties.

“My door,” she pushed him off and put the car in park, “is just fine where it is, soldier.”

He grinned at her, and the way he looked down, biting his lip, was so naughty it made Bess tense with longing. She instantly regretted coming here with him, blushing when his eyes met hers, his fingers now caressing her elbow. Their soft touch did not feel any more innocent on her arm than they had on her thigh and she coughed nervously.

“Um, uh, alright, fork it over.”

He arched an eyebrow at her.

“What?“

“You were the one who wanted candy.”

“Bess, I’m not able to carry my wallet during field exercises, an’ I came to meet’cha straight after.”

Bess rubbed his knee playfully and waggled her lips.

“Hmm, Mr. Chivalrous, indeed. Ok, guess I can spring for some Reese’s -”

“Get a bunch, and a few Pepsi colas?”

Bess couldn’t even summon one sarcastic smart aleck retort, her mind was dulled by the way his cheeks lifted up in a boyish excitement. It made her want to grab his face and cover him with a thousand kisses. Instead, she nodded dumbly and managed to make her way out of the car intact, pulling down her skirt. If she tried focusing really hard she was able to walk upright into the commissary.

Once she was a few feet inside, away from Elvis’ hands, her wits returned and, in a matter of minutes, she was at the soda fountain asking the girl behind the counter to add a few more peanut butter cups to her paper bag. 

Walking back out of the shop, Bess folded the top of the bag over itself a few times, enjoying the feel of the sharp crisp edge under her hand. She smiled to herself, thinking of Elvis’ silly grin as he conspiratorially looked around after dinner and whispered in her ear that he was in the mood for something sweet.

Studying Elvis over the last two weeks, Bess found he was not at all what she had expected. He was smart and funny, yet also childlike and sweet and simple. His face greeted her with the same genuine excitement every evening when she met him at the bottom of their dirty, dingy back stairwell. He had asked her to bring the same meal the last three nights in a row, homemade meatloaf on challah bread. And he was content to do the same thing every night: drive around listening to the radio and necking in her car. This trip to PX was the first time they had deviated from their familiar routine and gone anywhere remotely public together.

“So, this is how movie stars indulge in the finer th -”

Bess stopped talking as she sat down and realized Elvis was not in her car. Peering around the parking lot, she saw his side profile a few cars over, sitting between two girls in the back seat of a white Buick. Two giggling girls. Two very pretty, young giggling girls. 

Bristling, Bess took a deep breath and calmly placed the candy next to her, then calmly pulled the handle and then calmly but forcefully slammed her door with a bang. She saw one of the girls look over, a blonde, but Elvis remained lost in conversation, laughing at something the brunette had said. 

Bess wondered if he was even aware she had returned to the car. Not sure what to do, she settled on acting nonchalant and proceeded to fix her lipstick in the rearview mirror, trying to conceal how hard she was straining to hear what they said.

“Course I do, honey, scout’s honor. Yes, that’s right, 16 cars. Well now, what’s the point of making money if you can’t spend it? Wait a minute, huh, now, actually, it’s 15, I just gave my Messerschmitt to my tailor.”

She couldn’t make out the girls' muffled, breathy voices, just Elvis’, which was, for some reason, deeper and much more pronounced now that he had an audience.

“Oh, well now, most people ain’t heard a it, but it’s a German car, a small ‘un, rides on three wheels and goes real fast, boy, real fast, on account of how light it is. Feel like you’re racing in a bubble.” He whistled a high note. “Whooeee, goes right past all the suckers in their regular cars.  But, well, heck, I hardly got to drive it, though, so naw, I don’ miss it. I was away so much, when the guy who makes my suits wouldn’t shut up ‘bout it, I finally told him, I said, ‘Bernie,’ I said, ‘Ya can have my Messer but you have to let me pick out ev’ry thing I want in ya store here. Today’… Yeah, it was a good deal, man, I cleaned him out.”

Bess rolled her eyes and sat there waiting while Elvis chuckled and answered more questions from the girls. Then, ever the chivalrous, attentive gentleman, asked them about themselves, wondering where they went to school, what they did for fun, and whether they had any boyfriends

“Don’ lie now.” She heard his voice get flirty. “I don’t believe it, pretty girls like you? I bet you’re breaking all the guys' hearts here.”

“Do you have a girlfriend?” one asked him, and Elvis laughed.

“Nah, no one special. See, I'm so busy, and I’m always on the move, it wouldn’t be fair to any gal to for me try and settle down now, ‘specially now I’m off to Germany. I’m just playin’ the field. Why, are you asking me out? Honey, ain’t fair to tease me like that.”

Elvis sat and talked with them for ten more minutes or so, but Bess was only half listening. His words about how he didn’t have a special girl played over again in her mind. Bess started eating the peanut cups impatiently as the idea of how insignificant she was to Elvis snowballed in her mind. She was just a girl he met during basic training, one of the many girls whose car he felt he could just walk up to and sit in. One of, what, hundreds he had probably kissed in dark corridors, movie theaters, recording studios, cars, motel rooms? Completely interchangeable with any other girl. Completely interchangeable with these silly, stupid girls he was flirting with while she waited.

What the fuck was she doing with her life? Baking bread and meatloaf and packing a picnic dinner to schlep on base every night? Curling her hair before bed and waking up early so she could take extra care to look nice?  While he treated her like a pathetic doormat he could send off to buy him candy and then keep waiting for what now, twenty minutes? Bess had half a mind to drive off, and the only thing that stopped her was her pride. She would not let him know that he had upset her, she was not going to have a tantrum like a child.

The peanut butter and chocolate had hardly begun to melt when Bess threw another candy in her mouth and told herself she was being silly. Those girls had probably called him over, everyone in Killeen was on Elvis alert, and he was probably just being polite and humoring them. She ate some more of the candy and felt a little better, telling herself it was harmless. And what, she expected him to spill his guts about his love life with two kids? And so what if it was true? She knew he had other girlfriends,  she’d seen pictures of him out around town with stars like Natalie Wood, Yvonne Lime, and Anita Wood in the movie magazines. Elvis' playboy lifestyle hadn’t seemed to matter this morning, because she knew they were just having fun. She was having fun, she reminded herself again, and she shouldn’t get worked up.

But it was ten more minutes before Elvis said his goodbyes, and Bess’ ire rose again as he lingered over their car window, making them promise to meet him at the base movie theater next week.

“What about you, Moo Moo, you like Danny Kaye?”

Bess looked at him coolly as he got into her car, then back at the windshield as she shifted the car into reverse.

“Sounds like you’ve already secured companions, one for each side.” She elbowed him off as he leaned to put his arm around her.

“I reckon you’re right.” He attempted to put his hand where it had been before, lightly trailing his fingers over the back of her neck. “Guess I’ll just have to put you on my lap,” he hummed in her ear, grabbing the bag of candy as Bess navigated the car out of the parking lot. 

She could tell he was joking around with her, but she scooted away from him nonetheless, sitting up straight and rigid as she drove, the bitter taste of his indifference still fresh on her tongue despite the half dozen chocolates she’d eaten in the last ten minutes.

“What happened to the Reese’s?” Elvis’ voice trailed off as he popped the last one in his mouth, and he took a longer look at Bess’ stiff stance.

“Oh, I didn’t think you were interested in them anymore.”

Elvis sucked on the candy and grabbed a bottle of Pepsi from the six pack below his feet, opening the cap with a pop.

“You cheesed off ‘bout them girls back there?”

“Don’t be ridiculous, it’s a free world, you can go around speaking to whomever you like.”

 Elvis sipped his Pepsi, looking sideways at Bess.

“Huh, so you hugging that steering wheel like you tryin’ to marry it for no reason, then, huh?”

Bess glanced over, her terse expression breaking. “Well, it doesn’t feel particularly good to be left twiddling my thumbs for thirty minutes.”

Taking another swig of his Pepsi, Elvis began to message the base of Bess’ neck.

“Aw, hell, honey, I didn’t even realize I was over there that long.” His fingers massaged the base of her neck. “Time got away from me, now that’s the god’s honest truth.”

Bess grunted as Elvis' thumb rubbed slowly over her shoulder blade, moving to her waist to pull her towards him.

“Hey now.” He kissed the top of her head, and Bess could feel her anger dissipating. “Scoot in here, let me show you how I feel ‘bout you, Moo Moo. Those girls don’ mean nothing.” He squeezed her waist.

“Seemed like something,” Bess whined, hating herself the minute the words left her mouth, she sounded needy and pitiful. 

“Aw, Moo Moo, don’t be like that. I spend my days driving ‘round in tanks with forty other men. When those lil gals called me over, almost felt like my old life again. I love my fans, honey, but that’s all they are. Ain’t special to me like you are.”

“Hmmmm.” She could feel herself giving in as his thumb worked its slow, rhythmic magic in circles at her waist. His thumb's movements made all her blood rush to her core, and a throbbing need mingled with the anger in her chest. He sensed her mood shifting and kissed her neck as she drove.

“Always so jealous, Bessie baby, might start to think you like me.”

Bess sighed out as he pulled her towards him tighter.

“You’re wrong, Elvis Presley,” she murmured halfheartedly. “I am just bored, passing time ‘til I get out of this hell hole. You could go off with a car full of girls and it wouldn’t bother me.”

His hand was at the side of her head, pulling her into his shoulder, stroking her hair.

“You’re so pretty when you get all riled up, Moo Moo, your cheeks get so red. It’s how I imagine you’d be -“ He paused, his voice was tender and babyish now, even as he spoke with an impish smirk, giggling at his own innuendo. “ - after chasing me down in that car fulla girls.”

Bess sat up, slapping his hand off her, no longer really mad about the girls, just his teasing. Elvis' arms were around her again in a flash, and he kissed her cheek.

 “I’m jus’ teasin’, honey. Now come on, be a good lil girl and find us a nice place to park.”

He turned the radio on, tapping once he found a station playing a song he liked, and waggling his eyebrows at Bess as he began to sing with The Clovers to “Blue Velvet.”

Bess shook her head to herself, enjoying how the night air cooled her warm, red cheeks. She had sworn that once he got back in the car, she would drop him off and not let Elvis charm her into spending the rest of the night with him. But here, now, she knew she was a goner. Her body betrayed her and the need to feel his lips on hers, as soon as possible, overrode any sense of pride or logic. She drove her blue Ford into the first dark alley she found among the armory buildings.

Awkwardly smoothing down her blouse, Bess tried not to seem excited or in a hurry as she sighed nervously and watched Elvis tilt his head toward the back seat. They wordlessly got out, and she stumbled into her open door. It was pitch black, the air was thick with anticipation, and Bess trembled as she edged along the leather. After two weeks, she still got nervous alone in the car with Elvis.

His lip hung down as he moved over and he caught her knee, lightly trailing over it before pulling her legs onto his lap. His eyes followed his fingers as they moved up her leg, sucking in his breath. Each night, without fail, his face would fill with awe when they began to fool around. He always looked like he had never touched a girl before, like she was the first woman he had ever met. Just the slightest caress seemed to light a fire in his eyes, and he slowly, reverently removed her shoes, one by one, swirling his fingers over each ankle.

They had left the radio playing, it was a doo wop program and the slow beat of a bass guitar thrummed in Bess’ ears as Elvis’ index finger begin to roll  back and forth at the edge of her skirt. His eyes met hers, looking her up and down as he sighed.

“Hey there, lil Moo Moo.” A goofy smile spread under his half-lidded eyes, and he bit his lip, looking as though he had just unearthed a secret. His hand was now on her knee, and a charged tremor flared up the back of her calves. “I’m crazy ‘bout you, honey. I need you to know it.”

The longing in his voice made Bess want to wrap her legs around Elvis’ waist and pull him on top of her. Draw him as close as possible, flip over and crush him into the leather seat, getting as close as she possibly could until the car shook with the sounds of their love making. Instead, Bess took a deep breath and tried to embody an appealing, modest restraint.

“I’m sorry, Elvis, sorry for giving you a hard time. And for eating all the chocolates.”

He leaned over her, and his warm breath hit her ear as he whispered.

 “I know baby, s’ok. I forgive you. You gonna be a good lil girl from now on?”

“Mmmhmmm.” She answered in her own babying voice, not questioning where that affect came from or why she suddenly seemed to find their childish repartee so enticing.

Elvis’ lips brushed over her neck, followed by a succession of kisses that started out soft and slow and then gradually became deeper. Bess fell down onto the white leather seat, her breaths loud and shallow as she unbuttoned his work coat, lifting her bottom to help Elvis as he pulled her nylons off. She laughed when they got tangled and he had to turn and look at what he was doing, swearing as he threw them to the ground.

 “Damn mosquito netting. Where were we?”

Bess cupped his cheek, bringing him back to her lips.

“Here.” She swallowed into his smug expression while his right hand moved up her thigh, teasing her over her panties before he smiled wider at the way she rolled her hips to welcome his touch. He dragged his knuckles delicately over her center and Bess felt a bulge growing against her knee when Elvis looked down where his hand was.

“Man oh man.”

He raised his eyebrow as his fingers slipped inside her and she responded with an upward thrust, turning her face into his left arm at the sensation. Elvis kissed her check, gliding his fingers further into her, slowly probing her delicately and lingering over her bundle of nerves, repeating the movements that provoked a response.

Bess tried to remember the last time a man had touched her. This was no impatient swiping on the way to quick sex. Ben had made the effort to please her, though he had always seemed preoccupied, like he was making a grocery list while he muddled along with his fingers. She had had to do a lot of work twisting and turning to get the angle right. Elvis was right there, absorbing every twitch, every gasp, every clench as she pivoted his fingers toward what she liked. No one had ever touched her like this and it felt so satisfying that Bess couldn’t stop herself from grabbing him as she moaned out. Her hands were on his back, through his hair, in his mouth while he watched with concentration, his lips opening and closing with a gasp as she moved her knee back and forth over his groin.

“You are so soft, Moo Moo.” He brought his fingers out momentarily and Bess’ jaw dropped as she watched him suck on his index and forefinger, covering them in his saliva and grinning as he brought his hand back to slide easily inside her. “Sweet, too, baby, sweetest girl I ever met.”

Bess blushed, deeper, harder, redder than ever, and buried her head into Elvis' forearm. It was almost too much, to feel Elvis’ finger rolling over her slick nub, slow and steady, like he was canoeing them intently down a lazy river, strumming her like a banjo. Each stroke brought her closer to home, and a warm tingling sensation hummed up to her throat and made her moan out a guttural melody just for him. His eyes never left hers, and his chest pushed harder and harder into her with each exhale. It was the most intimate, vulnerable and intense experience Bess had ever had. She felt him grind harder against her knee, breaking their eye contact to drop his forehead on to hers with a loud groan.

Their bodies shifted back and forth together and the car swelled with the sound of their savage breathing. The smell of aftershave, Chanel No. 5 talcum powder, tank grease and sweat filled Bess’ nostrils, and heightened the aching, sparking heat in her chest. She pulled Elvis to her, meeting his lips as he stroked her until the bow broke and waves of electricity vibrated through her body. She cried to heaven above and hell below, drowning out the sound of the music playing on the radio, the sound of the car seat heaving up and down, the sound of Elvis’ chuckles as he held her, looking down at her with wide puppy dog eyes full of satisfaction and appreciation. As if she had been the one pleasing him.

Bess realized how much she had satisfied him when she noticed a wet, gooey stain on his pants as she lay in Elvis’ arms, nuzzling her forehead against his chest. She palmed her hand over it, smiling up at him.

“Maybe I should keep an extra uniform in my car for you?”

He played with her hair, grinning into her eyes.

“Nah, it’ll dry. Sides, it’s dark, no one will know what we been up to.” He took a deep breath, another chortle escaped his lips. “S’nice a you to offer, though. Guess I know what I have to do to get you to be a nice lil girl for me.”

“Hush.” Bess hit him, but she couldn’t help but sigh affectionately. “Though, gee whiz, Elvis. I never felt like that before.”

“Aw, there she is, there’s a good lil Moo Moo.” He kissed her head. “Why, she’s the sweetest lil Moo cow in the whole wide world. Gotta take care a my Moo Moo, cuz she takes such good care me.”

All Bess could do was sink into him further, allowing his babyish voice to lull her into a calm, relaxed state. She started playing with the lining of his undershirt, asking him about their plans to be together over the weekend. 

In her more reserved moments, Bess stopped herself from prodding Elvis for future plans because she did not want to seem needy or anxious or too invested. She left it to him. She didn’t want to give him the power of knowing how much she liked him. This tryst was temporary, she knew how this worked: he would go on leave back to Memphis, and then, before she knew it he’d be off to Germany.

But when she was with him, in his embrace, all of her worries seemed to dissolve. Bess didn’t think about her mother’s troubles, her father’s expectations, how Ben had broken her heart or anything upsetting. Here, in the cozy afterglow of loving making, she felt completely at ease and her subconscious snuck out, seeking opportunities to be with him as much as possible. Her hand smoothed over his shirt as she looked up at him with a breezy, carefree grin.

“Want me to pick you up tomorrow?”

“Nah, honey, my friend has my new white Caddy, so I’ll be coming’ round to pick you up from now on.”

“What time d’you think you’ll come by?”

“Don know, ‘zactly, but I’ll call you. Reckon it’ll be after 5, most likely.”

 “I should write down my number.” She started to sit up, but Elvis held her tight and kissed her nose.

“Nah, Moo Moo, jus’ tell me, I’ll ‘member it.”

Bess squinted up incredulously, but soon he was repeating it back to her, tickling her and telling her to be a good girl and trust him.

“I got it, locked down up here, baby.” He pointed to his head, and Bess shrugged, sitting up and swaying to the sounds of the song “Devil or Angel.”

“Aw, I love this song.”

Elvis followed suit, joining her upright on the bench seat and grinning as he tucked in his shirt and straightened his tie as he sang along. Bess smiled inwardly at his silly, melodramatic expression, he was clearly trying to impress her. She grinned wider when she realized that they were on opposite sides of the seat from when they had first moved back there, and she smooshed into him with a light kiss. He returned it, and they started to paw at each other again, tongues meeting and gently exploring each other until Bess pushed off, trying to be sensible and move them out of the car.

 “You better go, Tupelo.”

Elvis followed her, kissing the knuckles over her hand as they said their goodnights against her car, hips pushing up against hips.

“Always takin’ such good care a me, Moo Moo. I jus’ know. God sent you to take care of me. Wish I could just stay with you always. I hate to leave.” He murmured, pouting. “I don know how I’m gonna make it through the night without you, baby. Gonna be dreamin’ ‘bout you.” His lip curled up at the left side. “And how sweet ya taste.”

Elvis dodged her had as she tried to hit his arm. “Tomorrow can’t come soon enough, Moo Moo. Mmhhmmm, better have that sweet lil honey pot all dressed up and ready for a party. Wanna show you off to my friends.”

Bess blushed and waved him away, though she couldn’t stop herself from rocking back and forth on the balls of her feet from excitement. This last week she had felt like a phoenix, rising from the ashes of last summer’s devastating heartbreak and all the self destructive behavior that had followed.

Being with Elvis was a restorative tonic, and she couldn’t wait to spend the night with him Saturday. It meant something that he invited her to meet his friends; it was an acknowledgment, a validation, a way of telling her that he didn’t just see her as someone to fool around with in a dark car. It meant that he really liked her. That she really was special to him.

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

Saturday, April 12, 1958

9:47 a.m.  The Schwartz Residence

The house smelled like spiced ginger. It was one of those days when Mama had risen at dawn and baked enough food to feed the entire base. There were loaves of ginger bread, banana bread, rugelach, oatmeal cookies and some sort of roast was slowly cooking in the oven. Their kitchen had always been the heart of Bess’ family, not only was it where she learned to cook at her mother’s apron strings, but it is also where Mama taught her to draw, read and knit. Papa had taught her and Kay German by only speaking German to them in the house until they were fluent. However, it was at the kitchen table with Mama where Bess perfected her German. This was where Mama had helped her with her German homework and essays. With all of her work, with all of her problems. 

Mama’s parents were second generation German Jews, and before she met Papa, Mama had played piano in Zayde’s Brooklyn vaudeville theatre, where all six kids in Mama’s family had eventually gone to work. Papa enjoyed regaling his daughters with the story of how he had met a dark, beautiful woman on the Coney Island midway who had captured his heart when she helped him buy tickets after no one understand his broken English. She had spoken to him in German, and it was the first time he’d felt welcomed and safe in America. Two weeks later he had asked her to marry him. Mama had thrown herself into domestic life after the wedding, and then into factory life during the war, always somehow managing to keep things taped together through military moves back and forth across the country.

Bess often wondered when Papa realized how different Mama was from other women, because most of the time, her mental condition was fairly obtuse and could be understood as harmless whimsy. For Bess, it was a mainstay of her childhood. 

Mama had always spoken so casually of the hidden meanings she saw in the world, the faeries and demons that spoke to her, that when Bess was little, she had assumed something was wrong with her and waited impatiently for her own visions. It was not until she was twelve, after Mama had dug up the whole back yard one night and chopped off all their electrical wires to stop the demons from tormenting her, that Papa took her and Kay aside and explained that Mama had to go live at a health farm for the summer and Aunt Rachel would be coming from New York to take care of them.

Thus began a long series of stays at different experimental sanitariums and institutions over the last ten years. The most recent had been in November, a month-long stay at a small resort in Eureka Springs Arkansas, and Mama had returned fatter, calmer and filled with zeal about the wonders of natural hot spring bathing. But Mama was still Mama, and the battle for good and evil was still playing out in front of her eyes through the words and whispers and visions that she alone experienced. Bess was grateful that, for whatever reason, the demons had been staying mostly at bay. The faeries, on the other hand, had been quite vocal.

Mama turned as Bess entered the kitchen, and brought her daughter some coffee while she caressed Bess’ cheek with her hand.

“Oh Bessie, you’ve been looking radiant lately. The faeries have been murmuring.” She trailed her fingers over the large curlers in Bess’ hair. “They tell me you have a new beau.”

Bess blushed, responding sheepishly. “No mama, I’m  - I’m - just going out tonight. With friends. Where’s Papa?”

“Oh he went fishing with some of the German studies instructors, they took three barrels of beer and a tent, so they might stay at the lake. “

Mama kissed Bess’ forehead and then sipped her own coffee.

“It is going to be a full moon tonight, Bessie. You are positively glowing, my girl. I think the moon goddess wants to have her way with you, you have to be careful. She is a tricky one, she plays with us mere mortals for amusement.”

Bess blushed, thinking of Elvis and her own hopes and desires for the night. A shiver of anticipation went through her body and she giggled, nervously.

“Hmmm, well, we’ll see, Mama, maybe I can outsmart her.”

Mama stood, following as Bess took her coffee and bread to the secretary’s desk in the hall, and winking at her daughter.

“No one can outsmart the mistress of the moon, Bess, she controls the oceans and with it, the waves within us. The water that drums in our ears and thrashes us forward. The current that pulls at our heart. And her power is strongest at the full moon, beware her riptide.”

Bess watched as her mother turned into the living room with a flourish and then filled the house with Rachmaninoff’s loud, romantic piano music. 

Bess couldn’t help going into her evaluative mindset and pondering whether Mama was having a good day, baking and playing the piano, or whether she was hurtling towards a manic episode. She looked at the clock, and decided she would have to wait and see, but she prepared herself to cancel the whole night if need be. Right now, she would go ahead as planned, and called her friend James to beg him for help finalizing her outfit.

“I need a man’s opinion, that’s why.”

“Bess, trust me, whatever dress you wear, Elvis’ only thought is going to be how quickly he can get it off."

“Jameson!” Bess spoke in a hushed murmur as she rocked her chair back against the wall. “I don’t even know what is going to happen, he is an odd duck when it comes to fooling around.” James was silent. “Great, so you’ll be here at 5?”

“Bess, I love you but I am not getting involved. Didn’t you say he’s picking you up at 5?”

“He said he would call after 5, and I’ve been thinking, you should pick me up and drop me off, then I’ll get a cab home or something. I don’t want my folks to know about Elvis -”

“Bess, the General probably already -”

“Just be here at 5, James. I’m going to get my nails done and pick up a few things. Wait, better make it 4:30, just in case - ok? Please? You know I never ask for anything.”

Bess looked at the nails on her right hand, turning them over, trying to banish James’ suggestion that her father probably already knew that she was spending time with Elvis Presley. Yes, he trained officers to gather intelligence, but Papa could be quite blind about their home life. She rocked back and forth on the chair, noticing that her mother’s piano serenade in the living room had moved from Russia to Brooklyn. She was playing Gershwin now. 

This is good sign, Bess thought, happy, lighthearted Gershwin was one of Mama’s favorites. Then Bess realized after a few bars that it was “The Man I Love,” and she pursed her lips at her mother’s teasing.

“But you always ask. For everything. ‘James, take me to the dance, James, let’s go out dancing in Austin, James deliver me to Elvis Presley’s motel room - ’ ”

“Stop, you know you love it. Otherwise you’d be bored out of your mind, as you refuse to have a love life of your own.”

“That’s what you think, Schwartz. I have a vast, secret love life that I keep from you.”

Bess grinned. “Good, you can tell me all about it when I see you at 4:30. Make that 4. And if you don’t show, I’ll inform the General that you stood me up!”

Smiling wider at her friend’s groans, Bess hopped up with purpose, thinking that it was time to wash off her facial mask and make a list of all the things she needed to do to get ready by four.

“It’s settled then. James, you’re a dream, see you at 4.”

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

Saturday, April 12, 1958

3:58 p.m.  The Schwartz Residence

It was Kay who opened the door when James arrived, smart and debonair in his officer’s uniform with his hair coiffed and parted perfectly. Bess bounced down the stairs, beaming wide at James’ high whistle as she twirled around for him.

“Gee Schwartz, I think you might need to drive tonight. That dress just kicked me in the head.”

Bess did a two step in her cocktail dress, trying not to notice the way her sister rolled her eyes as she shut the front door.

 “You don’t have to be nice, Captain, you can tell her she needs to wear something more colorful, more over the top, more like what Elvis wears in civilian life. I’ve been telling her all afternoon.”

James tilted his head towards Kay, “So I’m guessing the kid knows.”

Bess shrugged, “Yeah, oy. But thank god Papa took Colonel Zimmermann and some of the new teachers fishing. Mama’s out back painting, she’s been on one today. Baked up a storm, if you want something sweet.”

James shook his head, letting Bess lead the way upstairs. “Your mom is too smart, Bess. So is your pop. I’m happy to be your beard, but if they don’t already know you are dating Elvis Presley, they are gonna get wise sooner or later.”

Kay laughed, “Mama already knows something is up, Bess has been putting way more attention into her appearance this week and coming home late every night. Just today, she curled her hair, then decided to go to the salon and have her hair set anyway. And she tried on about 100 dresses, just so everything’s perfect.” Kay said, in a sing-song voice.

“I’m not dating Elvis, you guys. I’m just spending time with him. And, Kay, I think you are exaggerating. I was having my nails done at the beauty parlor anyway.” 

Bess held out her hands for James’ inspection. She felt a deep sense of satisfaction at the dark burgundy color, and she had liked it so much she matched her lipstick to it. There was something about a fresh nail lacquer that always made Bess feel more adult, more confident.

“Let me show you the whole get-up with these low heeled pumps on, though I have some other shoe options.” She slipped on her heels, and twirled around again, as James went to sit on her bed next to Kay. “There, now, James, as a man, what do you really think? Too simple? He said to dress up.”

James looked Bess up and down as Kay snickered, prompting a quick kick to her shin.

“No, it’s perfect Bess. With that neckline? And the way it crisscrosses in the middle, and your hair? You look like Ava Gardner. It’s not too simple, it’s sexy. Sexy as hell. But you need a necklace.”

James stood, and went to Bess’ vanity, pulling out her pearl necklace from her jewelry box, and beckoning her over. He fastened it around her neck from behind, then put in the matching earrings, carefully, before stepping back with a whistle to let Bess look at herself in the mirror.

“There now. You're a goddess. I dare him not to whisk you away and ravage you the moment he sees you. It’s wholesome and it’s sexy all at once.”

Bess smiled and took her friend’s hand, whispering a shy, blushing thank you. They sat up there, listening to records as Bess modeled a few other shoe options and asked whether she should wear gloves. Ultimately, all parties involved agreed gloves were too formal for a motel party.

It was 5:15 when they went back downstairs and settled in the kitchen, sampling some of the rugelach as they waited for Elvis’ call. 

By 6:15, they had moved to the living room and Papa’s bar, where Bess made Tom Collins for everyone, which now included Mama and Dickey, who had come by to take Kay out to a drive-in movie. 

At 7, Mama began to ask if James and Bess wanted dinner, she was slow cooking a roast for Sunday, but could fry up some cold meatloaf sandwiches.

“No thanks, Mama, we’re just waiting to hear from the friends we’re meeting.” Bess stumbled through a sorry excuse for a story about two friends from high school who had to work later than expected. James gave Bess a supportive look, and after her mother left the living room, reassured her that a number of things could have happened with the drill sergeant overseeing Elvis’ dismissal.

“He could be stuck on KP duty, maybe he got held back because the others played a prank on him. You know how unpredictable those battalion sergeants can be. Let’s relax and turn on the boob tube.”

Bess nodded, made another round of Tom Collins, and settled in to watch Art Linkletter's amateur comedy show, trying very hard not to think about how it was almost 8 p.m. 

At 9 James began his campaign to convince Bess something must have kept Elvis on base, and that they should get out of the house. Get burgers at Millie’s Diner or go for a drive out to the Waco Wet Dog. 

At 9:30, Bess caved, and ran upstairs to take off her pearls and change into a more casual, purple swing dress. While changing, she began to mull over a secondary plan that was forming in her head, and she carried the entire display case of Reese’s Peanut Butter Cups she’d bought with her to James’ car.

“What’s with the candy?” James looked over his shoulder as he careened his car around towards downtown Killeen.

“It’s sort of a joke, I um, I ate all his peanut butter cups the other night. I- I thought it would be a gas if I showed up with an entire case.”

James looked over at Bess, and rubbed her shoulder. “And what, you think we should eat them instead?”

“Well, what if he couldn’t get to a phone? Or got too caught up with his friends or whatever? He was pretty insistent that he wanted to see me tonight. I was thinking...” Bess looked down with a sigh, then back up at James, her eyes dark with determination. “What about just driving by the Star Motel on the way home. What do you think, as a man, how would you feel if I just showed up?”

James could see Bess’ confidence waver, but he couldn’t bear to talk her down, not after everything he had watched he go through over the last year. So he banished his own misgivings and squeezed her hand. “Honey, any man upset to see you walk in would be crazy. But let’s get some grub first, ok?”

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

Saturday, April 12, 1958

11:05 p.m.  The Star Motel, on the outskirts of Killeen TX towards Waco

The air was cool now, and Bess’ mother had been right, it was a full moon that shone over them, illuminating the farms off in the distance on the road to Waco. The Star Motel was a two-storey building with rooms along the inside and outside that wrapped around a large pool. 

Bess sat in the car, stomach churning, suddenly unsure if this was a good idea. They had definitely spotted a new, white Cadillac packed in the back lot with a temporary license plate. Which was both promising and unsettling, because it meant Elvis was probably there but hadn't called her. Bess suddenly wished she hadn't found it, but she was also unable to just slide back and tell James to take her home now that she knew Elvis was probably here.

Adrenaline was coursing through her veins and the cocktails had dulled her inhibitions.There was a giddy, bubbly feeling at the top of her head that egged her on and told her that he had invited her, had been adamant about wanting to see her, “show her off,” telling her she was special to him, that he was crazy about her. 

Maybe it was the full moon after all. Whatever it was, every cell in Bess’ body compelled her curiosity and her desire. She had to know, and she needed to feel his touch once more; that voice and that face and those hands that took her away from her difficult, tiresome existence. 

Taking a deep breath, she felt almost like a force behind herself was propelling her out of the car, and she only hesitated at the sound of James’ voice.

“Bess, come out and let me know, ok? This place is always crawling with creeps, so if you don’t come out here and give me the old heave ho in the next 15 minutes, I’m going to come find you. I won’t care about locked doors.”

Bess nodded back into the car with a bright, broad smile, and then strode over the grass and into the side corridor of the motel, avoiding the office. 

Walking past the first set of rooms, she came to a breezeway and paused, leaning against the decorative, concrete screen in the middle to calm and prepare what she would say to Elvis. She was certain they were a few doors down, she could hear a group of male voices jamming and she perked up, clutching her box of chocolates closer to her bosom at the sound of Elvis’ low voice singing no more than twenty feet away. 

That was when she heard heels clicking down the breezeway, and turned to find a small, petite blonde in a pink dress walking towards her with an exaggerated flounce in her hips and an ice bucket resting at her waist. Bess' chest tightened when she recognized Anita Wood from the movie magazine photos. Magazine photos of Anita Wood out on dates around Memphis with her boyfriend Elvis Presley.

Anita flashed Bess a dazzling grin that displayed the whitest, straightest teeth Bess had ever seen. “I swear, I walked all over creation looking for that dag gum ice machine, and you know where it is? Where these rocket scientists thought to themselves, why this is the best place to put it? Up behind the cigarette machine, on the back of it. Completely outta sight. Can you believe that?”

“Um yeah, I mean no, ugh. Idiots, I bet it was cheaper to wire it back there, or something.”

Bess wiped the sides of her eyes, willing herself not to cry, not to linger on how this proved that she was just another girl to Elvis, and definitely not preferable to the gorgeous beauty queen in front of her. Anita’s face fell as she looked up at Bess.

“Oh honey, are you ok? Why, you know you’d just feel better if you just let it all out.” Anita pulled a pink handkerchief with lace trim from her bust, replete with a monogrammed A.W. “Here, now, you can cry with me here, ain’t no one but us chickens.”

��Is it that obvious I'm upset?” Bess tried to chuckle, watching Anita’s face change to a confused frown as she noticed the box of Reese’s.

“Hey - what’s with the candy? Are you meeting someone here?”

Bess shifted, working against those cocktails to think on her feet and also play dumb about the suspicion she saw in Anita’s eyes. “Oh, ha, no. These are for me. I, um, I live here in town with my folks, and I just checked in here because, well, I needed to get away for the night and drown my sorrows in chocolate, if you know what I mean. Just learned my fiancee married another girl he met in Germany. Men, huh? What are they good for?”

Anita stepped forward and rubbed Bess’ shoulder as more tears fell down her cheeks.

“Well, God made men for a reason, sometimes I think it was to test our womanly resolve. Oh honey, I cannot imagine what that would feel like, to have a man wrong you so. Ain’t no dirtier dog than a man who breaks that sacred promise. But I tell you what.” She took the box of Reese’s from Bess' arm. “You cannot sacrifice your figure over a man. Nu huh. No way, Jose. Why, that won’t do nothing to get back at him, it’ll only hurt you and your future prospects. My heart is telling me that I cannot stand by and let you go eat all this candy and feel sorry for yourself, honey. That is the devil whispering in your ear.”

Anita trotted over to the trash can and Bess groaned inwardly as she watched a woman dispose of Elvis’ chocolates for the second time that week. Though she conceded that Anita was right, she didn’t really want to go home and eat them all. Well, she did. But she knew she would regret it.

What could she do, offer them knowingly to Anita to take to her boyfriend? The thought made her smile, which Anita, of course, assumed was a reaction to her kind, Christian gesture. Still holding her ice bucket, Anita patted Bess on her shoulder.

“See, I can tell you’re feeling better already now that the temptation has been removed. We women have to stick together. You should take a nice long bath, it will do wonders, much more healing than candy. Whenever I get upset, I have a good cry, get it all out, then take a nice hot shower.” She winked at Bess, and Bess wondered if Anita did the same things in the shower that Bess did to make herself feel better. Maybe that was why God made showers?

Anita smiled wider as Bess wiped her eyes, and mustered a feeble grin, which encouraged her to continue dispensing advice.

“Yessirree, you’ll feel better once you wash that man right out of your hair and start over again. Pretty girl like you, why, if you lost five pounds, you’d have your pick of the litter.” Bess flinched when Anita pinched her waist playfully, and was lost for words as her heart jumped into her throat with embarrassment at how much thicker she was than the petite blonde. Insecurity clouded her head and she was almost unable to hear the rest of what Anita said.

“Just stay away from big boxes of candy, and other temptations Satan might throw at you. Then, I bet you dollars to doughnuts, that boy will regret his decision. The best revenge is to find someone better and shove it in his face. Make sure to take out a big ole wedding announcement in the paper That'll make you feel much better.” 

Anita left Bess with a wink and a parting squeeze to her arm, as Bess murmured a low thank you. She wiped her eyes and gathered her wits, then, when she was sure Anita was gone, she dug the box of chocolate out of the trashcan and tucked the rescued candy under her arm.

Straightening her dress as she sat down in James' car, Bess popped a Reese’s in her mouth and decided on how she would respond to her friend's questions.

“I ran into one of his girlfriends in the hallway.”

“Oh Bess, no, he didn’t! I’ve half a mind to go back and beat that hillbilly senseless.”

Bess shook her head, extending her arm out of the window and dropping Anita’s pink, embroidered handkerchief into a puddle of mud on the side of the road as they drove back to her house.

“Don’t, Elvis did me a favor. He reminded me why I don’t date soldiers.”

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

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[highqueenofelfhame]

IT'S BEEN A LONG TIME COMING. I didn't mean for this to go a whole year without an update. I'm so sorry. I hope this 4.5k chapter makes up for it somehow <3

masterlist // fafs masterlist // rowaelin

As soon as he took that first deep breath upon waking up, Rowan knew he was being watched. Maybe that was thanks to all his years as an agent for the bureau, or perhaps it had to do with the months he had spent with Aelin that had honed that instinct into a sharp blade. Regardless of what had made him develop the sixth sense, he knew that when he opened his eyes to the soft light filtering through the cracks of the curtains, there would be a golden gaze pinning him to the bed.

Instead of looking at her, he reached across the bed to rest his hand on her thigh. Rowan could tell she was sitting with her legs folded up like a pretzel, her hands in her lap while she watched him. He moved a fraction of an inch closer until he could easily press his lips to the spot just above her knee. 

"Rowan?" The tentative sound of her voice had him cracking open an eye to look up at her face. A deep crease was set between her brows while she worried her bottom lip in thought.

"What has you awake so early?" This soon after waking, the lilt of his accent was heavier, his tone deeper and more gravelly than usual. 

"It wasn't you, right?" 

"Baby–" he started, pushing himself up on his good arm to a sitting position. He shifted so they were sitting knee to knee, one of his legs dangling over the side of the bed so he could move closer to her. Aelin looked away as she licked her lips before shaking her head. "Look at me, love."

 "I know. I know you didn't; I just–" Her eyes found his again, and she huffed out a sigh. It sounded like she had been carrying it in her lungs for years. "Somebody found out. They found out, and they told her. But everyone I know is dead except for Elide and Gavriel, and they think I'm dead. Even if Gav put it together, I can't see him spilling everything to Maeve before talking to me to see what the hell happened to me all those years ago." 

Digging her palms into her eyes, she took another deep breath and exhaled slowly. Rowan counted the seconds, his thumbs brushing in soothing circles over her tan skin. It was something he had been thinking about non-stop since everything exploded in the bureau lobby. Even as the bullet pierced his shoulder, he tried to make sense of everything that had come to light. 

How had Maeve known? It definitely hadn't been Gavriel. At the very least, her uncle would have approached him before going to Maeve. It didn't make any sense for him to find his long-lost and assumed-dead niece and go straight to his boss. Rowan knew firsthand that the deaths of his sister-in-law and her husband had plagued him. He was one of the few people that Gavriel had ever talked about it with, him and Aedion never having fully given up hope that maybe she was out there somewhere. It wasn't something he voiced frequently. Those admissions came after everyone else had left the bar, and it was just the two of them sharing a beer in silence after a difficult case. No, it definitely hadn't been Gavriel. 

Who then? Aelin was right. Essentially everyone from her childhood was dead now. All her confessions had happened in places where he knew they weren't being recorded. By that time, he himself had become paranoid enough that he checked all the pens in his pockets, his cufflinks, and the buttons of his shirts, even to ensure nobody had slipped a device somewhere in his clothes. If they had been recorded, it would have been inside his apartment. But he would have known about that, too. He checked regularly and had frequency blockers hidden in every room.

If working for the bureau taught him anything, it was to always be on your guard and that a healthy dose of paranoia kept you from being surveilled. 

There was Elide, but Rowan had a strong feeling that any of her suspicions would have ended with Lorcan beating down his door in the dead of night in search of the truth. She wasn't even an option, not really. 

Who, then? Had Arobynn Hammel let the truth slip to Maeve before his heart had been ripped from his chest? Did Maeve have eyes and ears everywhere that whispered back to her, even when they were sure no one was listening? It seemed far-fetched, but he knew his boss had her moments of being ruthless. But if she'd known the truth since Arobynn, why did she wait so long to tell Aelin she knew? The window of when she found out and when she spoke with Aelin had to have been a small one. Nothing else quite made sense. 

Rowan looked back at the woman he loved, her eyes fixed on his face while he processed every bit of information they knew. All he could do was shake his head and rest his brow against hers. 

"I don't know. I wish I could give you more than that, but where it stands right now, I have no fucking idea. We will figure it out– all of it. Who told her, what kind of jeopardy it puts you in, what our next steps are. We will figure it out together."

There was a determination in her eyes that was admirable. And though he could tell she wanted to push back about something that he'd said– he had no idea which part– she nodded slightly and repeated, "Together."

 ~*~

Hours later, Aelin was sitting on the floor in front of the couch with a blanket wrapped around her shoulders. Despite a warmer day outside, a fire flickered in the fireplace. Watching the flames dance and twine around one another was a welcome reprieve from the near-constant headache she'd had for the last few days while trying to make sense of everything. 

In the kitchen, Rowan hummed quietly while preparing dinner. The aroma of garlic, basil, and lemon was strong throughout the cabin. It felt bizarre that this felt like the most normal night she had ever experienced in her whole life. The sounds of dinner being prepared, a man she loved making everything with care. The reality was that it was the furthest from normal, considering she was on the run from the FBI. It was only a matter of time before she was found, captured, and dumped into a prison cell for the rest of her life. It made her stomach turn to know that the same thing would happen to Rowan for harboring a fugitive of her caliber and committing treason. 

"I don't understand how this has become my life," she said aloud, and Rowan ceased his movements. The water turned on, followed by the sound of him washing and drying his hands before lowering his body to the floor beside her. "I don't mean I don't understand exactly how I ended up here. I understand that part. What I don't understand is how my life got here."

"You mean how you ended up an assassin in the first place." He shifted to drop his arm around her shoulder, and Aelin quickly turned into him, resting her face against his chest. It always surprised her when he understood what she was trying to say, even if the words were twisted and confusing on their way out of her mouth.

"How did I go from living in a mansion surrounded by family and friends, my father gearing up for a presidential run, having tea parties with my very best friends, or running through bonfires on Beltane with flowers in my hair to this?"

"What do you remember about that night?" The night she'd spent so much time running from, one that her brain had blocked out almost entirely. Aelin sucked her bottom lip between her teeth, eyes still locked on the flames as she chewed on it for a moment.

"Not much," she admitted. "I've never talked about it out loud to anyone before, either. But it really isn't much."

"Do you want to go over what you do remember with me? Maybe something will spark, and we can work backward to figure out what is happening now." Only with Rowan would she ever talk about it, the night that ruined her life. Perhaps she had emerged from the ashes like a phoenix, but everything she had wanted to be before died that night. So she had become something else entirely. Something horrible that her friends and family would be ashamed of and would judge. But he wouldn't. 

Aelin turned so she was leaning against the couch, her arm propped on the cushion with her fist against her temple. Rowan mirrored her body language, reaching out to lace the fingers of their free hands. A silent reminder that he was there, he understood her, and he would follow this path with her to whatever end it may have. The thought alone made her want to cry, but she swallowed her emotions.

"The night that my parents were murdered, I was sleeping upstairs in my bed. Every night I went to sleep snuggled in a mountain of stuffed animals. Most of them came from when my dad went on business trips. He always brought one back for me. I had to have at least twenty stacked on top of my bed, dozens more littered around my room. I rotated them out frequently so that none of them would feel lonely having to sleep by themselves." Rowan's lips had curved into the smallest of smiles, his thumb making circles on the back of her hand. He was there. He had her. She was not alone, and she would not be afraid. 

"I remember having a hard time falling asleep that night. I'd been to my parent's bedroom twice because I thought I heard things. It was a big house; it made a lot of noise. My mom repeatedly promised me that everything was okay, and she and my dad tucked me back into bed. I remember still feeling unsettled and scared. Like something was wrong, but I didn't know what. I couldn't place my tiny finger on it then, but I would hold my breath to see what I could hear in the silence. Once, I heard soft voices, which my mom said I was just hearing the two of them talking downstairs. I heard footsteps, but again, they were still up and getting ready for bed. I was just hearing them." 

 Aelin paused then, tears already filling her eyes and threatening to slip down her cheeks. Not once had she said any of this out loud. Nobody had ever heard this part. With Rowan, she could do this. She could say it aloud despite her throat burning from trying to suppress her emotions. Maybe it was time she let them out. Had she ever really grieved? Those first few weeks at the keep, maybe. But Arobynn had quickly shut down her wildfire range of emotions some months into her training when he decided she should be over it by now. With a deep breath, she found it in herself to continue. 

"I slept a little bit that night, but it was that kind of sleep where you hear everything around you. Somewhere between being awake and dreaming. At first, I thought I was dreaming. But I heard my mother begging someone. Her voice had so much raw fear; I will never forget how it cracked when she said my name. As scared as I was, you think you're invincible as a child, you know? So I snuck downstairs, tip-toeing down the hallway to their bedroom. And then I just… froze. There was enough moonlight to see my dad completely limp on the bed. Something dark was on his skin and the sheets, running down his arm and pooling on the floor. His eyes were staring at nothing. 

A man had my mom's hair gathered in his hand; her head pulled back with a gun to her temple while she begged and begged. But she wasn't begging for herself; she was pleading that he let me go. Over and over, she just kept saying let my baby live, please don't hurt her. And then she saw me standing at the door, and the last thing she said was my name before the gun went off. I have never heard anyone's voice sound so panicked and full of terror. My mom slumped against my dad, and then I turned and ran. At some point, I slipped, banged my head on the ground, and I don't know what happened after that."

Aelin only realized she had fully begun to sob when Rowan pulled her into his lap and wrapped his arms around her tightly. While she was talking, she had registered the sounds of gasping, sharp breaths, and broken words, but it hadn't registered that it was coming from her. When she started talking, it all started pouring out. One broken word after another until her shirt was soaked with tears. On the one hand, it felt so good to finally get it out and tell someone what had really happened that night. On the other, it shattered her into a million pieces to recount those events. 

The papers had gotten it all wrong. Most of them said it had been a quick assassination. Aelin didn't know how fast it had happened for her father, but the man that killed her mother had stood there and listened to her begging for her daughter's innocent life for long enough that Aelin had made her way downstairs and heard the end of it. That she saw the end of it. That it was burned into her brain no matter how hard she tried to shut those images out. 

Aelin still had nightmares about it. 

Rowan didn't say anything for a long while, just holding her and stroking her hair while she let out every emotion she had kept locked in an iron cage in the back of her mind. Emotions she had been trained to keep a firm hold on for nearly her entire life. Arobynn used that against her, beating her down until she had become distant and cold. Only when she had met Rowan did any of it start to slip out, and she had spent months hating herself for it. Aelin had always known from the time she started to get to know him that he would be her unraveling one way or another. He would either throw her in prison or make her feel alive again. At the time, she couldn't decide which was worse. 

"I know that there were two men. I saw a second one when I turned to run. But after that, I didn't know anything else until I woke up in a bed in the keep. Arobynn never talked about how I fell under his 'care.' For a while, I thought it was just an orphanage. That I had been found and taken there while I was unwell. It didn't click until I was a few years older that it certainly wasn't the case because I would have woken up in a hospital before I got taken anywhere, and then I would have been taken to my aunt and uncle. I just remember seeing all these papers about how I was missing and presumed dead. Arobynn would show me news footage of Aerin and Gavriel begging for someone to just let them know where my body was so they could bring me home."

Her tears felt cool against her flushed cheeks, even as Rowan chased every one of them away with calloused fingertips. The memories of her aunt, uncle, and cousin standing on the porch of their home, desperately asking for her return. They hadn't known if it would be her alive and well, or if it would be her dead body. It had not mattered. Her family just wanted her back. Wanted to keep or safe or lay her to rest next to her parents. The image of Aedion's young, tear-streaked face floated to the front of her mind, followed immediately by his unseeing eyes the day she had shown up at the crime scene to find him dead. 

It was all too much. The murder of her parents, her upbringing to become the underworld's most deadly assassin, that she was now everything her parents hated about the world. All of her friends that now lay six feet under simply because they were tied to her in some way. 

The guilt had been gnawing at her bones since it all started. Aelin would give absolutely anything to trade places with them. The cost didn't matter. It would have been better if she were the one that was dead because if she had died that night, at least everyone she loved would still be breathing. 

Throughout the years, Aelin had kept tabs on each of them, knowing they would do incredible things. They all had done their best to put something good back into the world. Dorian was nothing like his father, doing what he could to speak out and back his words up with actions to pave a better way for the rest of the world. Aedion had spent countless hours working with underprivileged youth in Big Brother programs right up to his death. Even Sam was taking steps to better his life until he was killed for trying to run with her.

Nehemia… gods, the things she could have done if her life hadn't ended so shortly. She had been a beacon of hope to so many, her charity work speaking for itself. It was only about doing everything she could to help people in need, including raising money through the Lotus Foundation, one her parents had helped her create to build housing in underdeveloped parts of their home country, Eyllwe. 

Yet she was the one still living. She who had taken countless lives, that had so much blood caked onto her soul she would never be clean. It didn't matter what she did going forward; it didn't matter the circumstances of how it all happened. Aelin was the one that lived, and she had brought so much shame upon everyone in her life. 

There were no bright sides to her friends being dead. That she would never have to face them, never have to tell them the truth, though… She was too much of a coward to ever have looked any of them in the eye after the life she had been forced into.

"Do you remember anything about the men that killed your parents? What they looked like?" Rowan's voice stirred her from her thoughts, soft, deep, and lilting. His thumbs still brushed the tears that fell from her cheeks. 

"The men Maeve captured and convicted were the ones that did it. I know that for sure. I could never forget Cairn's face. His accomplice is harder for me to piece together, but he confessed after Cairn ratted him out to avoid the death penalty. I only saw him for a brief moment before I fell. If the wrong people had been convicted, I would have hunted them down and killed them myself." And she would have. Those lives would have been two of the few she held no remorse over, and it wouldn't have been quick. It would have lasted long enough until some of the grief had eased in her chest. Until she wasn't so scared to look back on her childhood memories anymore. 

"That case got her the appointment for FBI Director." Rowan lifted the bottom of his t-shirt to wipe the snot gathered in her nose and upper lip. 

"She deserved it for that. Even though I had just turned nine, I was hyper-aware of what my life was turning into by that point. And seeing justice brought down on them… it brought some relief. Not much, but enough to know they were behind bars. I would have preferred the death penalty for them both, but at least there was a confession." Aelin shrugged her shoulders. It was true. She would have killed them after her arrest if she had been in the same prison. Clearly, the gods had other plans for her, though. 

"Is there anything else you can piece together?"  

"Right now, no. But if I have any eureka moments, you'll be the first and only one to know." 

Aelin had been waiting for Rowan's apology. The one that came from a place of empathy, that made her feel like she was pitied. But it never came. Instead, he leaned forward and pressed his lips to her forehead. The gesture said more than words ever could. That he understood, that he hated the shitty hand life had dealt her, that he stood with her. That he was there.

And that meant more to her than any words ever could.

~*~

Whitethorn had been right. In the days after Sardothien's arrest, he had gone on and on about how it was too convenient. It didn't make sense that she was just a whisper in the wind and suddenly became so sloppy in her work that boxes of evidence had, literally, been dropped on the steps of the FBI headquarters. 

Raking through every piece of information that they had on her, he could see that clear as day. For years their department had chased a ghost, someone quick and silent. There had never been a drop of her own blood, a single hair that fell off her head. No fingerprints, no saliva. None of her DNA packed under someone's fingernails from a struggle. They didn't even have proof that it was her at all, actually. They only knew that the legendary assassin was a woman based on one witness account, and the woman had been so old and frail and unsure of her account that it would have been inadmissible in court. 

All of her alleged crime scenes had been scoured with a fine-toothed comb. They knew it was murder; that much was clear. But Celaena Sardothien had dozens of aliases, hundreds maybe. He was sure of that. Yet the "proof" they had received in a box full of her fake passports and IDs seemed too good to be true. None of them led them anywhere; it was like she'd never touched them, never used them at any point. Anyone could pay someone to make fake identification, and what they found in those boxes was so blatantly fake that it wouldn't fool anyone. 

Her case was a puzzle that he was dying to solve. Usually, he loved cataloging evidence that led to a trial. Sure, they would have to find and capture her again before she saw her day in the courtroom, but he enjoyed this part of the work. Except for right now, when not a single loose thread took him anywhere at all. The woman simply did not exist. 

With tired eyes, he pushed away the file he'd been reading and turned to another that kept him up at night. Lorcan wasn't usually so personally invested in the cases they solved, but the look in Gavriel's eyes when he found out his son had been murdered still haunted his nightmares. The sounds of the sobs that broke free from his throat were the sounds of a soul dying. Gavriel had loved his son with everything he had, and Lorcan almost couldn't forgive himself for having to be the person that broke the news. 

Flipping open the Ashryver file, he scanned the evidence log and accompanying photos. When he got to the images of Aedion's lifeless body, he started to flip faster, not needing to see the pictures to remember them in vivid detail. 

 Just as he was about to skip the last one, a close-up shot of his face and neck, Lorcan's fingers froze against the glossy page. In the photo, Aedion's glassy eyes stared at the cloudy sky. Eyes that were a bright turquoise, his pupil rimmed with gold. They were dimmer now than they had been while he was alive, but…

But he knew those eyes. Not just because they were a strong trait of the Ashryver gene pool but because he had looked into them himself. Yes, he had met Aedion several times at various get-togethers and holiday parties. But his eyes were identical to a different pair he'd become all too familiar with for the last several months.

Then there was his face. Gavriel's son favored him strongly, but there was a softness in his features that he had spent months looking at on a different face. A woman's face. The same shade of golden hair, though in these photos, it was sticky with dried blood. 

Lorcan pulled his laptop closer to him, quickly opening a tab and sending his fingers flying across the keyboard. It was probably the fastest he had ever typed, and he had never been so impatient for the single second it took to get hundreds of images back from the search result. 

He clicked on the third photo down, one of a small family standing on a stage. The man and woman waved to the crowd while the young girl beamed where she stood between them. No older than seven, her little hands clasped her mother and father's tightly. 

Rhoe and Evalin Galathynius pictured with their daughter, Aelin, on Vice President Galathynius's presidential campaign trail in Perranth. 

A few weeks ago a conversation of Lorcan arguing with Rowan about Celaena's involvement in Elide's attack had him pushing back from his chair. Ice slithered up and down his spine, blood turning cold as he recalled one specific thing that Rowan said to him that he hadn't caught in the moment because he was so upset and worried about his fiancee's life. 

Rowan had called her Aelin. Said that Aelin didn't have anything to do with what happened to Elide. He vividly remembered feeling bothered by the conversation afterward, that there was something between the lines that Rowan hadn't been saying plainly with words, but perhaps they were there. Whitethorn had been so fiercely sure that Celaena didn't do it, didn't have it ordered, had clean hands where Elide was concerned. He might be a raging dumbass for dating a woman with multiple charges of murder to her name, but the man was not stupid. 

Lorcan's eyes snagged on another image, a group photo of two dozen or so people. Standing in the front were five children. All of them were dressed in their holiday best, standing before a towering Yulemas tree covered in glittering ornaments and twinkling lights. They appeared to be gathered in a great hall of sorts. Everyone in the picture shared wide smiles as they looked at the camera. 

In the middle of the group of children was a young girl with long dark hair wearing a red and green plaid dress. A bright red bow gathered some of her soft curls from her face. A face that Lorcan would know anywhere because not only had he seen hundreds of childhood pictures of her, but he woke up to that face every godsdamn morning. 

Elide's arms were looped through two other girls, one with long golden hair and fair skin, the other with black hair in carefully woven braids, her skin dark. The three of them wore similar dresses, the color being the only thing different about them. The blonde girl on her right had a silver and dark green dress, while the one on her right had a dress of purple and silver. 

Aelin Ashryver Galathynius was on Elide's right. That was factual. Beside Aelin, Aedion Ashryver stood with his arm thrown around her shoulders. Dorian Havilliard and Chaol Westfall were on the other side of Nehemia Ytger. Behind them were their parents and friends of their parents. All of them gathered before one of the famous Galathynius family Yulemas parties. 

It wasn't just Aelin standing beside Elide, though. That thought clanged through Lorcan hard. He felt it in every nerve and bone of his body; he had never been so absolutely positive of something in his entire life.

Celaena Sardothien was Aelin Ashryver Galathynius, a girl long since presumed dead to the world and everyone that loved her. 

Holy gods.

[hedgiwithapen]

MAWS AU - the Kryptonite sphere does not get brought to Thanksgiving and the ship doesn't activate. All the drama is interpersonal :)

(obviously: set during the Hearts of the Fathers, spoilers ahoy) The kitchen smelled wonderful, the roasting turkey, the  hot honeybutter rolls, James's yams with marshmallows, potatoes with enough herbs for all of scarborough fair.  Martha had prided herself on a  cozy kitchen, a welcoming home. 

"What do you mean, an enemy?" Martha Kent interrupted her husband's good natured advice to their son. Her Clark did not call people enemies.  Oh, they'd taught him well, he tried to see the best in people like Jonathan, but he also knew to believe people when they showed him who they were. When he'd come home in second grade with blood on his shirt sleeve from a fight, he'd been honest about it-- bullies. When he'd lost a chess match in the finals to a cheater,  Clark had used words like 'opponent.' 

"Um," Clark said. Ma thought about what she'd read in the article, about that Mr. Ivo and his attack on Metropolis. 

"Clark. Who's the enemy?"

"I..."

"Ma, really, you don't--"

"I don't what?" she asked. "Clark. What happened?" she reached up to put a hand on his cheek, tilting his face down so she could see him. His eyes had a haunted look in them. Someone had scared her baby. 

"I didn't want to worry you," he said. "General Lane..."

"He's not the nicest man," Ma started to say, out of a sense of hospitality. Lois's father was, after all, a guest. "Clark. Is this just that he's made Lois feel bad? Tell me the truth."

"No," Clark said. "I...I didn't know he was her dad. He--"

"What did he do?" Ma said, a chill like the worst of winter icing her words. 

"He caught me," Clark said, looking down. Not at her. At his wrists, like he expected something other than skin and shirtsleeves and Jonathan's best cufflinks to be there. "He said I was responsible, all those people who died...that I'm an invader." The words spilled out of her baby's mouth, the same way they had when he'd talked about needing to quit the football team, like his pain wasn't worth anything. 

"Oh," Ma said, quietly. "Oh, Clark. Oh, don't you worry, honey. You stay right here. I'll take care of this."

"Martha," Jonathan said warningly, knowing enough about his wife that the turkey was no longer the priority. 

Ma ignored him, reaching up on her tiptoes to take down her grandmother's cast iron skillet. It had always served her family well, no matter what purpose it was needed for.. "Jon, you stay with Clark. I'm not having that man eat at our table."

"Ma, no!" Clark protested. The kitchen door started to open.

"Clark. You may have all those powers, but I am your mother. That man tried to kill you." Ma insisted.

"Hey, I'm just grabbing the--what." Jimmy stared. "Uh. Mrs. Kent?"

"James," she said, smiling. " You can take the yams out in a minute, dear. I need to settle something with our intruder."

"Indrude--ma, no!" Clark followed her, his long strides a match for three of hers, but she still reached the living room first.

"Get out of my house," Ma said to the General, interrupting whatever silent, awkward conversation had been happening between him and Lois. 

"Excuse me?" he said, standing, automatically shifting his feet. Ma narrowed her eyes. She knew a defensive stance when she saw one.

"Lois, honey, you can stay. But he's not welcome."

"What's going on?" Lois asked. "Clark?" The look on his face caught her breath. "Clark?"

"The General," Clark said, hollowly. "Lois, please tell me you didn't know."

"Know wha--"Lois looked green as she registered the Important Capitals. "Oh, oh my god. Dad. Tell me you didn't."

"Didn't what? Lois, what is this?" The General looked almost bewildered. Ma wasn't sure if it made her angrier that he might be pretending not to know what he'd done, or if he was really so blind that it didn't matter. She was angry all the same. “Tell me you didn’t kidnap and try to murder my boyfriend!” Lois exploded. Ma felt a rush of kinship with the girl. She could stay as long as she liked.

"You're the one who kidnapped Superman? And attacked Cadmus?" Jimmy finally pieced it together. 

"How do you know about any of that?" The General asked, eyes still on the threat.

Ma gripped the skillet by the handle, forcing his attention back to her, taking two deliberate steps to place herself between her son and the couch where a monster in uniform -metaphorical uniform, anyways, though not metaphorically a monster-  stood. "General, It’s best you leave now. If you come near any of my children again, so help me, the pigs down at the Anderson's get mighty hungry in winter. Now git."

[phantom-rats]

send help dear lord

[Image ID: The first image is a collection of sketches of Wally Darling from Welcome Home and my Welcome Home self-insert. In the upper left is a sketch of Wally staring at the viewer intensly, stating "I know what you are." In the upper right is a sketch of Wally with his hand on my self-instert's shoulder, talking absentmindedly. My self-insert is looking at him lovingly, listening to him ramble. In the middle is a sketch of my self-insert looking nervous and overwhelmed, shaking their fists in front of him. He recites a post that states "i want him so bad im gonna throw up i literally am going to explode if i can't have this boy like its genuinely life or death i need him i need him i need him i need him i can't breath make it stop please i want him", in reference to Wally. On the bottom is a sketch of Wally staring intensely and lovingly at my self-insert, with an arrow pointing towards him with text reading "STARES." My self-insert is glancing away nervously, blushing, with an arrow pointing towards him with text that reads "Nervous about eye contact". The second image is a sketch of Wally Darling and my self-insert. Wally is hugging my self-insert from behind, resting his head on top of theirs and ruffling their hair with his right hand. His left arm is wrapped around them. My self-insert looks nervous and lovestruck, patting Wally's arm with their left hand. Wally's head is surrounded by several small hearts. The third image is a reference doodle of my self-insert. They have short brown hair, pale skin, a small pink nose, and thick eyebrows. They are wearing a pink heart-shaped earrings, white undershirt, a pink bow tie, a pink sweater vest with a grid pattern and a small heart contained within every other square, pink heart-shaped cufflinks, brown slacks, white and pink striped socks, and dark brown loafers. END ID]

[aita-blorbos]

AITA for asking my fiancee to never see her family again?

Okay I know it sounds bad from the title, but hear me out.

I [23 M] got engaged to my beautiful fiancee [23 F], who we’ll call L, and considered her the love of my life. We have a lot in common, such as our intelligence and us both being vegetarian. I proposed to her after she met my parents, and we went to America to meet her family.

Things went the opposite of what I expected. Upon driving to her parents’ house, her father [54 M], who we’ll call H, tried showing off the British Union Jack flag to give me a sense of hospitality (I am from England). To my horror, the flag was on fire! H and L’s brother B [25 M] pulled the flag down, stomped on it, and threw compost on it, to which H handed it to me.

I thought that would be the worst of it, but things got worse. As L and I stayed in the bedroom H built himself, the floor broke underneath me, and I fell into the compost heap outside. Afterwards, we had dinner, and the entire time, L’s entire family acted like buffoons (with the exception of L’s mother) as they ate with their mouths open, and generally annoyed me. When H and B took me to this dirty pub (which they call bars there). H showed me these cufflinks that he asked me to wear as part of his family tradition, only to reveal these ugly pig cufflinks. H and B then took me to break into a pornographic warehouse, which went disastrous as the fire alarm went off, and got me a head gash from hiding in the dumpster.

On the day of L and mine’s wedding, L approached me, and noticed I wasn’t wearing the pig cufflink H had tried to give me. I couldn’t understand why she would expect me to wear those ugly things in front of my family and friends. I then decided to express to her that I never wanted to see her family again after moving to England, with perhaps the exception of her mother when the children come. I tried to explain to her just how ridiculous her family was, and I complimented her by telling her she was like a flower who grew out of a pot of dirt. She exploded on me, and insisted she still loved her family, and ran away from me.

I just don’t understand what I said and did wrong? Surely someone as intelligent as her must realize how absurd it is to expect me to see them again! AITA?

[violettduchess]

Hi! Your Bi MC fic was so beautiful!!! May I request a fanfic of an AFAB mc coming out as a transgender man? Like the mc gathers all the residents into one room and tries to explain stuff like preferred names and pronouns to everyone, not everyone understands it but they can tell how important this is to MC so they are supportive of him and ask him lots of questions to better understand him

A/N: I wanted to save this fic for the beginning of Trans Awareness Week, which this year is from Nov. 13-19. You can find out more here.

I also wanted to make sure I did this justice, so I sent it to a former student who is a beautiful trans woman. She proofread it for me and gave her stamp of approval.

Ikemen Vamp x trans man mc

Word Count: 1264

You stand in the mirror, drawing in a deep breath. Your fingers run down the front of your vest, the soft navy blue wool, the shiny gold buttons. You reach down, double-checking the gold cufflinks at the end of your smart, stiffly-starched white shirt. From the top of your newly-shorn hair to the tips of your shiny black dress shoes, you look in the mirror and see yourself the way you have always imagined. The you that was hidden, small and afraid in the corners of your heart, until you passed through a doorway across time and proved yourself capable of a bravery you did not know you possessed. A mansion full of genius vampires didn’t phase you and it was then you realized it was time to face the world. Literally show it your face. Your true face. And you would start with the men who welcomed you.

You inhale once more. Exhale. Your heart is pounding in your ears and you wonder if it will burst through the bindings and ruin your new suit. Pressing a hand against it, you tell yourself that no matter what happens, you will be ok. One final check in the mirror and then you turn, long legs taking you out of your bedroom, down the hallway, and through the double doors into the dining room where you had asked the residents to meet you.

Eleven heads turn when those wooden doors open. A lump of nervousness like a spiked ball has lodged itself firmly in your throat. Somehow you managed to take another few steps forward, closing the doors behind you. Your hands are trembling so you shove them into your pants pockets. Their faces seem to blur in the haze of your anxiety, but you do catch Arthur’s brilliant blue eyes alight with curiosity, his head tilted to one side. Theo’s expression is serious, almost dour, as usual. Vincent leans forward, resting his arms on the table as he regards you, brows raised, open interest painted across his face like a ray of sunshine. Jean looks confused, leaning toward Napoleon. You know he is speaking because you see his lips moving and Napoleon shaking his head.

It is Comte, leaning against the cabinet that holds all the fine China, cup of tea in hand, who speaks first. 

“Good evening. You wished to speak with us?” His expression is calm, placid as a lake in summer, but his eyes are bright when they meet yours. It feels like a lifeline in a gathering storm.

“I did. I have something to say and I thank you all for gathering here, ready to listen.” You draw another breath, feeling faintly ill. Isaac’s intelligent gaze is running over you, making you nervous. Is he making a categorized list of all the changes he notices? Your lips part and nothing comes out. 

Leonardo moves from where he is leaning against the wall. Cigarillo in hand, he casually blows out a thin plume of smoke as he heads to one of the empty chairs, lowering himself into it with all the grace of a large feline, his golden eyes meeting your gaze.

“Go on, amico mio.” His words are few and soft-spoken. But they hit your ears as loudly as a clap of thunder. Not cara mia. Amico mio. My friend. My male friend. Your heart feels like it might explode with gratitude at the simple gesture and you know he sees it in your face because he offers you a smile before taking another drag on his cigarette.

Courage floods your veins, tempering the burning pain of anxiety. It isn’t quite gone, but it feels....manageable.  You square your shoulders and begin again.

“Good evening. I’d like to introduce myself.” 

And from there it’s easy. The words pour from your lips like water, clear and bright and unhindered. You explain your name. What you have chosen and why. You explain the concept of deadnaming. You shower them with information about pronouns and their importance. You bathe them in the soft warmth of your truth. You show them the very fabric of your soul with shaking hands. As your voice fills the room, there is quiet. Every single vampire in the room is still, is listening. You tell yourself not to worry about those with furrowed brows or confusion their eyes. You will do what you can to help them understand.

You don’t know how long you speak, but judging by the dryness of your throat it is a while. And when the words finally trickle to an end, you feel the release of the adrenaline that fueled you. Your body has given all that it can. The rest in now in their hands.

“.....Are there…..any questions?”

Dazai has been watching you with eyes golden as the sun’s first rays in summer. He stands, reaching for a glass and pours cold water from the pitcher into it. Then he crosses the room, holding it out to you. Gratitude floods you yet again as you take it, as you see the smile on his lips, the nod of his head. As he addresses you with your name. And the added -kun on the end makes your heart soar.

Vincent speaks first. “So…..you have always felt this way?” The ice cracks. There is a soft murmur as you walk to the dining room table and settle yourself into one of the chairs, glass of water firmly in your grip.

“Yes.” 

What follows are questions. A cavalcade of them. Some of the residents have trouble understanding how gender and biology are two separate concepts. Others are worried they will have trouble with pronouns. Some are worried for other reasons. This is Paris in the 19th century. They fear for your safety if you leave the mansion. Others swear to protect you when you do. Arthur seems more interested in where you got your gorgeous tailored suit and would like you to take him shopping. This makes you laugh. 

As you speak, as you answer the questions they ask, you feel how they are trying, how they want to support you in any way you can. How they want to understand. Some like Dazai and Comte and Leonardo, the golden-eyed trio, are quicker to accept. You wonder if they have met others like you before. Some part of you, deep in the marrow of your bones, knows they have. Some have a harder time. Theo, Isaac. Their expressions are sharper, less relaxed. But not once do they make you feel anything other than acknowledged. They see you. They really see you.

The hours slide by until the residents, one by one, leave to attend their nightly business. Soon only Comte remains. He sets his long-empty teacup onto the table, splaying his elegant hands across the polished wood.

“The hour is late and you have given everyone much to think on.”

You push your chair back, nodding. Now all you feel is a satisfied sort of exhaustion, like one might feel after a long hike through the mountains or a long swim in the ocean. 

“Comte?”

Le Comte de St. Germain looks up, his features bathed in soft candlelight. He looks timeless, ageless, eternity formed in flesh and bone.

“Yes?”

“Thank you.”

Those words don’t feel like enough to convey how you feel but he smiles all the time, slow and beautiful and soft with affection. “Bonne nuit, mon ami. Fais de beaux rêves.” Good night, my friend. Sweet dreams.

“I can’t begin to express how remarkable it feels to finally love who I am enough to pursue my authentic self.” -Elliot Page

Tagging: @aquagirl1978 @atelieredux @alixennial @alexxavicry @queengiuliettafirstlady @rhodolitesrose @somekidnamedkai @ikemen-prince-writers-posts @bellerose-arcana @thewitchofbooks @ikehoe @redheadkittys @themysticalbeing @dear-mrs-otome @firestar-otomeobsessed @curious-skybunny @leotoru @ariamichel @kpop-and-otome

[purplekoop]

Finally time for another full character post, here's the esteemed agent who's not stirred easily: Martinet. Gaston Martinet.

Martinet is a Control character, meaning he specializes in being able to control space and manage dealing with groups of enemies. However, unlike other bots in the role who possess potent attacks that cover large areas reliably, Martinet is more of a generalist fighter who is competent in most situations, but makes up for relative weakness in a head-on fight by having potent area-denial utility that can give him an advantage.

Martinet's main weapon is the curious Champistol, a small handgun with a unique fluid propellant that fires cork-like bullets at high speed. This fluid is agitated by rapid movement, so Martinet can increase the power of a shot by taking a moment to preemptively shake the pistol, increasing the speed and damage of a single shot when released. The pistol has three stages of charge, indicated by the fizzing sound inside of the pistol intensifying. While this technique is strong, Martinet can also fire the pistol rapidly. This can have similar if not higher damage output than charging shots in advance, but requires more ammo.

The Champistol is also paired with a similarly powered explosive: the Shaker Bomb, a relatively simple grenade in the shape of a drink mixer that is lobbed forward, exploding shortly after hitting the ground. It shares the charge mechanic of the pistol, where shaking the bomb before throwing will increase the damage and blast radius of the explosion, but also increase the time it takes the bomb to detonate. The explosion also deals knockback, including to Martinet himself. Due to the liquid nature of the explosive, it can also be used to douse fires and clean allies of mucking debuffs.

The Shaker Bomb is like a second accessory, having a somewhat long cooldown between uses, but each Shaker Bomb is paired with an appropriate Champistol for the sake of your loadout selection.

Martinet's body is equipped with a covert set of wheels along his back and on his heels, which can be deployed for his Body ability: Wheel Slide. This relatively simple but nonetheless stylish movement ability allows Martinet to roll low along the ground, where he can still aim and use other abilities while rolling, but can't turn while he travels. He can also jump off the ground while rolling to launch himself forward with the momentum of the slide. If you want to prove you're the coolest person alive, you can slide jump right into a primed Shaker Bomb for a slick movement combo.

Finally, Martinet's "official" accessory is the Tripwire Cufflinks. Using a pair of covert devices hidden on his wrists, Martinet can shoot a pair of small magnets onto nearby ground or terrain. Once planted into a valid position, the magnets create a laser tripwire between them, which is barely perceptible to enemies. If an enemy crosses this laser, then the devices will activate, using a paralyzing pulse of electricity that does a small amount of damage, reveals the position of the enemy through walls, and Restrains them for a few seconds, slowing their movement and disabling movement abilities. However, the magnets are visible to enemies, and can be destroyed if they receive any damage whatsoever.

While Martinet's default arsenal of tools and tricks is fairly generalist in its usefulness, his unlockable loadout options can increase his area denial utility in exchange for general damage.

His Champistol and Shaker Bomb can be exchanged for alternate pairings, such as the Grease Lighter, which has a pistol that fires flaming charge shots that can ignite the oil slicks created by the bomb, and the Infiltrator Armaments, which includes a laser beam pistol that shreds through enemy structures and an EMP grenade that shuts down enemy devices and also shocks enemies themselves.

His Wheel Slide can be replaced with alternate variants, which either let him turn invisible for the slide's duration, or let him release an oil slick along his path that speeds up allies and slows down enemies.

And finally, his Magnet Cufflinks can be traded for a few interesting alternatives. The Snag Magnets are a pair of devices that can also be attached directly to enemies, which pull both points together when the two are placed, causing enemies be pulled to terrain or each other for a comical source of extra damage. Meanwhile, the simple Tracker Bug is a discreet tracking device that can be shot onto enemies or terrain as well, revealing all enemies in its radius for its duration. However, if Martinet shoots a bug attached to terrain directly, or headshots an enemy with a bug attached to them, it will explode for bonus damage in a small area.

Overall, Martinet is who I'd call the "silliest" character in the cast, both in terms of concept (his whole existence inspired by my friend having a James Bond phase a while back) and in his actual abilities. Again, he's a Control character whose main attack isn't a big high damage AOE like Yanno's rockets or Velenna's poison spray. This is slightly made up for by Shaker Bomb, letting him essentially have a bonus accessory that can do big damage to crowds in an area, giving him bursts of power to zone out space against other players or clear out a group of Plantoids in mission modes. However, his defining utility is the Tripwire Cufflinks, which are a potent means of controlling space in a less direct way via controlling information. If the trap works, then you know exactly who you just trapped in a very disadvantageous position. If it fails, then you still know that somebody took out the trap, and to be ready for a more honest fight in advance. The whole idea of "information control" was what made me want to do a spy-themed character in the first place, and to fill out the rest of his kit I went with more simple and tangentially thematically appropriate ideas to make him a competent all-rounder damage dealer who's competent in everything, but has bursts of higher power in area denial. His base kit is simple and reliable, but the amount of increased interactions that come from his unlockables is what I think makes him so fun. What's a classic spy without an arsenal of whacky and hyper-specific gadgets to get the job done?

Fun fact: I originally had another Control character named Usari that was a ninja based around ropes and chains. Their defining ability was a more complex version of the Snag Magnets, where you could manually activate a cord to pull two points together. These points could be an enemy, terrain, or your character if you still had one of the points still not fired out yet, making it a movement ability and crowd control ability all at once. This was replaced and simplified to into Martinet's Snag Magnet, with the manual control and personal movement aspects removed. Martinet already has a slide and can grenade jump, so a third movement ability felt extremely redundant.

Usari also has art! Their main attack was a chain weapon that was swung back and forth to hit multiple enemies in a limited range, and their alt fire could grab an enemy and pull them up close. They also had a throwable disc blade that could bounce off of terrain or pre-placed ropes.

Not my proudest design either, there was an idea here but it looks both tacky and generic, so honestly not too sad they got replaced. Also there's like. Plenty of ninjas. in general cultural existence.

So yeah, that's Martinet, and also a scrapped bonus bot! Martinet's been overdue for decent art for a while now, and I wanted to get the third characters for each role figured out and given art before I moved onto the fourth set, who I very much do have ideas for, just not as solidly as the third set. The fourth control character actually already has art, so possibly expect him first after we meet "Heart" and Otto. Though "Heart" is very much proving to be difficult in the concept phase, trying to make a unique defensive mechanic that also isn't too frustrating to play against is hard, and I'm struggling to figure out her weapon. Otto meanwhile just needs a design, he's already got a full kit and most of his unlocks sorted out. so. expect that guy sooner than later.

[shapa-likes-art]

heyy back with more questions on the supervillain au because it's been rotting my brain lately 😭 /pos (you don't have to answer if you're no longer developing it tho!)

1. In one of your arts regarding Roman's character sheet, you mentioned he has disguised weapons as jewelry and other accessories, what exactly are they?

2. Does Roman ever meet Virgil's parents?

3. Hypothetically, what would happen if Roman's identity as the Phantom was ever discovered? What would he do? What would Virgil do?

4. What would their wedding be like if they ever have one? 👀

I will always and forever be happy to get Supervillain au asks!!

His disguised jewelry are his Bee Cufflinks. They make tendril-like things that immediately tie up the target. His ring which is like a mini bomb: you press the gem, throw, and wait to explode. His watch, it's like a control for his bots and tech. And there's a lot more with different functions but those are what he takes with him all the time. (Not to mention, he also carries a container of his nanobots for quick and emergency chipping and hacking)

He does, the circumstances or how it plays our always changes whenever Skye and I talk about it so we never settled on a canon meeting. But they have met at least once and Roman always offers to kill Virgil's birthgiver and sperm donor for them or at least make their lives living hell.

The company would be put through hell and possibly crumble. The Prince name is sullied and shunned. Roman is arrested and put on death sentence. Virgil would be in grief and take over being the phantom without care and due to their recklessness and grief they die. It would be a different story if Roman gets sentenced to prison though.

I know you've already asked but I am more than happy to repeat it (possibly for others)! Their wedding would be very small and private, held at home and with only a select full of friends. They're not the type to be very public about their personal affairs <3.

Thank you for the ask!!! ✨💖✨💖✨💖

[thestalwartheart]

Hello ☺️ it would be amazing if we could get a snippet of your Moneypenny fic for WIP Wednesday!

Hello! Unfortunately, someone else got in first with a request for the kink fic I've been teasing. But since you are the world's most patient anon (I know I've been promising this Moneypenny fic forever), I can definitely share a few lines!

This scene comes just after Moneypenny has summoned Bond from the gym to a meeting with Mallory. Enjoy!

---

Half an hour later, there’s no sign of sweat or exertion on Bond as he strides into her office. There's not a hair or fibre out of place. He’s dressed in a beautiful navy suit with a matching tie, a gold tiepin. and gold cufflinks. His favourite Omega watch peeks out from underneath his shirt cuff. She has no idea if it can explode or not, though she wouldn’t put it past him to make one of his daily accessories something that’s as likely to kill him as tell the time.

But all the good favour his appearance has garnered soon vanishes when he looks around her office and asks, “Aren’t you a bit above all this?”

Don’t let him rile you, she remembers 005 telling her. He talks like a dinosaur, and ninety percent of it is designed to get a reaction. Don’t give him one.

Against 005’s better judgement, and her own, she bites back.

“Weren’t you the one who said the field isn’t for everyone?”

She catches a bit of contrition on Bond’s face. It flickers away quickly as he picks up a paperweight and eyes it with disdain.

“Plenty of things to do outside of the field.”

“Other than sitting at a desk, you mean?”

“Other than doing his bidding.”

Eve hums. “Awfully possessive, aren’t you, for a man who once jumped from my bed to someone else’s in the space of an hour.”

And just on the off chance I can submit more than one WIP snippet on Wednesdays, I’ll tag @mi6-cafe

[lua-miyuki]

Dark Office | ZhongChi

Modern AU

TW: NSFW, Dark Zhongli, toxic relationship

Ajax is an employee of a large company and his manager is Mr. Zhongli, a handsome, respectable man who attracts attention wherever he goes for his beauty, intelligence and elegance. His charisma is magnetic and attracted the young man from the moment he joined the team. The glances he gave him over the desk were discreet - or so he thought, until Mr. Zhongli suddenly raised his head and plunged his singular golden gaze into his. Ajax felt as if time had stopped. Later that day, his manager cornered him in the archive room. With the shelf at his back, his entire horizon was blocked by the older man, who raised his chin with an inquisitive finger.

"I get the impression that your admiration for me goes beyond professionalism," he whispered in his deep voice.

"It's not just an impression, Mr. Zhongli."

His body tingled as Zhongli leaned over to slide an hour against his ear. In the evening, Ajax hurried down the stairs to the underground parking lot before slipping into his manager's car. His lips were immediately on his and the young man was devoured in the car. This was the beginning of their sexual relationship.

Zhongli was a demanding man in bed. Demanding and authoritarian. Ajax, though full of self-confidence, found himself melting in the bed, fucked stupid against the mattress.

At work, they let nothing of their relationship show. But Ajax often nibbled on the end of his pencil, thinking that the seriousness and authoritarianism of his manager at work was reflected in the evening when he pushed him onto the bed and took him until the morning, sheets soiled and pillow soaked with tears.

It was another one of those nights. Ajax lay naked on the bed, his body scarred by Zhongli's hands and teeth, his cheeks wet with tears. He felt like he was floating, his lower back pulsing with a sweet pain reminiscent of their earlier fuck. The horizon lightened through the window and Zhongli emerged from the bathroom, his glasses on his nose, adjusting his cufflinks.

"Ajax, I think it's best if we stop."

The fall was sudden and painful. He blinked as he straightened on his elbows.

"Huh?"

"It was nice and fun while it lasted, but it's over now," Zhongli said without glancing at him.

Ajax swallowed his saliva with difficulty, feeling himself trembling.

"But why?"

His voice was far more pitiful than he wanted it to be. Zhongli finally looked up at him and smiled sympathetically.

"You're a handsome young man, but it ends there. You don't have the stamina to keep up, and your inexperience was adorable at first but it's beginning to bore me. And our relationship is rubbing off on your work. I made an exception with you but I hate mixing sex and work. And I refuse to let it affect my career. You can enjoy the hotel room a little longer, I've already paid."

And he left him alone, mouth agape and bleary on the bed.

Seeing Zhongli at work again was excruciating. He had kept trying to call him on his mobile, sending lots of messages before receiving just one telling him that Zhongli would be blocking his number from now on. Over his desk, Ajax glared at him. Angry looks, the looks of beaten puppies. But the young man was just hitting a wall of ice.

His frustration and pain exploded one evening. It was the end of the week and the whole team was gathered for dinner. Alcohol was flowing freely, adding salt to the wounds of Ajax, who kept glancing in the direction of his manager. Always perfectly calm. Always perfectly controlled. He downed his glass in one gulp to the cheers of his table.

"Wow, newbie, you've got quite a run tonight!"

"I'm not a newbie anymore, I've been on the team for almost a year."

"You're still the last one in, so you're still a newbie. I'm sure manager Zhongli agrees with me!"

He stiffens, gritting his teeth.

"Oh, did you hear that? Team 2's girl reportedly got a promotion after sucking off her manager!"

"Oh no, surely not?"

"If you want to move up the ladder, you know what you have to do! On your knees under the desk!"

"That won't work," Ajax interjected, noisily setting his glass down on the table. "No matter how well you suck Mr. Zhongli's cock, he'll never mix business with sex. Good-bye promotion."

"Tonight you're up against the manager! It's true he didn't miss the mistake you made today."

"It's not just today he didn't miss me," he crooned, grabbing a new bottle.

A firm hand came to rest on his wrist.

"I think this young man has had quite enough to drink already. Let's call it a night," Zhongli said in his deep, pleasant voice, a smile stretching his lips. The girls at the table suddenly began to blush and gabbled incomprehensible words. Ajax's teeth crunched together and he pulled a little harder on the bottle.

"I don't feel like it! Or are you going to forbid me that too?"

His glare silenced the table and Zhongli turned his piercing eyes on him. The young man pouted, then grinned.

"Now that I think about it, it's really not fair that I didn't get a promotion! If you'd asked me, I'd have wrecked my knees under your desk in a heartbeat! I mean, I did it on that rug the other day! I had burns all over my skin! That and the fucking bite marks you left me everywhere and I always had to be careful to hide!"

Zhongli widened his eyes and Ajax rose suddenly, rolling the glasses on the table.

"Oh well that’s true, why hide who you really are to the whole team? They also have the right to know how you have several times stuck *reaaaaaally* well your hard and fat dick in my ass! Or how you jumped on me the first time I got in your car!"

"Ajax has drunk enough, it’s time to stop for tonight," whistled Zhongli in a hard voice while glaring at him.

"Huh, why not? I may not have enough stamina yet but I think with your precious teachings, I’m not as inexperienced as I used to be!"

He staggered and caught up on Zhongli who pushed him dry. Ajax then contorted himself forward and vomited on Zhongli’s spotless shoes.

Zhongli’s gaze was forever etched in his memory.

Written on November 6th, 2023.

You can support me through my Ko-Fi page ✨

[kudosmyhero]

Thunderbolts (vol. 1) #128

Read Date: July 03, 2023 Cover Date: March 2009 ● Writer: Andy Diggle ● Penciler: Roberto de la Torre ● Inker: Roberto de la Torre ● Colorist: Frank Martin Jr. ● Letterer: Albert Deschesne ● Editor: Bill Rosemann ●

**HERE BE SPOILERS: Skip ahead to the fan art/podcast to avoid spoilers

Reactions As I Read: ● Black Widow II? ● oops

● Ant-Man?! ● 👏👏👏

Synopsis: Norman Osborn joins President Obama on Air Force One to discuss the new president’s concerns about accusations that have recently been leveled against Osborn. As Norman asks for more information, the President leads Osborn into his office, where Dr. Leonard Samson awaits. Samson tells the two men that he has brought with him video evidence of what he calls the “Massacre at Thunderbolts Mountain”.

Samson tells the President that before the Skrull invasion, Osborn suffered a psychotic break and murdered a number of Thunderbolts security personnel. Osborn refutes this with the official record, which states that the facility was attacked by psychics that altered witnesses’ memories. He asserts that Samson can’t be trusted because he, in fact, breached the Thunderbolts’ security during his therapy sessions with Penance and attacked Moonstone when he was confronted. The President requests to view the security footage to settle the matter. Osborn agrees, but surreptitiously presses a button on his cufflink.

Suddenly, the fighter jets escorting Air Force One are shot out of the sky. Four additional missiles headed for the plane detonate harmlessly in mid-air, but before Air Force One’s pilot can celebrate, his co-pilot shoots him with a poison dart and reveals herself to be Yelena Belova, who Osborn recently recruited to join the Thunderbolts as field leader. Black Widow then activates smoke decoys on the plane’s engines to give the appearance that they are going down. She radios to the crew to prepare for a crash landing.

The remaining Thunderbolts proceed to make their moves as well: Ant-Man emerges from Black Widow’s wardrobe and plants a gamma emitter on Doc Samson’s neck that causes Samson’s rage to spike, while Ghost ambushes a Secret Service agent and takes possession of the disk containing the Thunderbolts Mountain security cam footage. As Osborn, Samson, and the President barricade themselves in a secure compartment, Air Force One’s hull explodes and reveals the “mastermind” of the attack: a cackling Green Goblin.

(https://marvel.fandom.com/wiki/Thunderbolts_Vol_1_128)

Fan Art: Green Goblin by naratani

Accompanying Podcast: ● Untold Talks of Spider-Man - episode 16

[hvbris]

Edgar had spent some time observing Cassandra’s wardrobe. He could see she had a large collection of dresses, lots of them that he had no real recollection of seeing her in save for the Casino. He was not too familiar with dressmakers of course but he certainly knew bespoke and top designers. So he worked out her favourites, her colours her length and cut and had a dress made for her. This one naturally had a little twist to it as built into the dress was a garter holster to a specific gun, which was naturally wrapped in a separate present for her under the tree. Small caliber light gun but he was sure likely appropriated all the same. She would have to wait for her birthday for a BIG gun.

He had not forgotten Mina either, a medium sized Bigfoot teddy and some night vision binoculars.

All the gifts were left wrapped under the tree for them both to find in the morning, he was of course never sure where he might be on Christmas but this year it appeared he was lucky and had every chance to see how his gifts landed.

𝐄𝐃𝐆𝐀𝐑 & 𝐂𝐀𝐒𝐒𝐀𝐍𝐃𝐑𝐀 & 𝐌𝐈𝐍𝐀 @multipleoccupancy

Christmas was sacred, in the Miller household. It had all started as a very conscious effort on Cassandra's part, to make sure that her little sister didn't feel the loss of their parents too much come Christmas morning. But as years passed and grief faded, the traditions stuck. They did the whole thing religiously: a fancy and decadent dinner, Christmas music blasting in the living room, and of course, a mountain of presents stacked under the huge Christmas tree.

Cassandra was so happy she got to share all this with Edgar this year. She felt giddy like a kid as they woke up and got out of bed. Mina was already waiting for them in the living room when they walked down to open the presents, but then again she only woke up early on Christmas day.

They had agreed on exchanging presents, but she still hadn't expected Edgar to get her something quite so perfect. The dress was the most beautiful dress she had ever seen. She was speechless for a moment, holding the dress and the matching gun, unsure which she loved more. She settled on a tie and threw herself in Edgar's arms to kiss him.

"Thank you," she exhaled softly, before pressing another kiss against his lips.

Mina was pretty excited about the gifts he had gotten her too, and with the binoculars already around her neck, she was busy finding a name for her Bigfoot stuffed animal. After deciding to name him "Theodore Roosevelt" for reasons it was probably best not to ask, she thanked Edgar and shoved a gift in his hand with a big smile.

"Because you liked mine so much," she teased, as the wrapping paper contained a Loch Ness Monster T-shirt. The design was more elegant than the touristy and kitschy thing she had landed him a few months ago. With the t-shirt, a matching Nessie keychain.

Cassandra couldn't help but smile, in fact, she was smiling so much her cheeks were starting to hurt, but she didn't care. Seeing Edgar and Mina getting along so well, feeling like this was their little family, she was sure her heart could explode from happiness any minute.

Finally, she handed him his gifts. The first was a beautiful leather-bound photo album, filled with pictures of them, most of them from their little trip to Belize. In a little velvet box, there were silver cufflinks. And finally, in a third box, a gun, with Edgar's initials, E.L., engraved on it. She blushed, slightly amused and emotional to see that they both had similar ideas for Christmas gifts.

[karahalloway]

Riley regarded him thoughtfully as she pondered rather or not to tell him that she still wasn’t one hundred percent sure about his innocence. She was fairly certain they had both been lying about parts of it.

She just preferred his lies to Liam’s.

While this is super sweet, I kinda worry what's gonna happen when Drake's lies (if any?) get exposed...

“I would have said yes, and I would have married him. But only so I could have stayed in Cordonia, near you!”

He missed the switch he had been about to toggle as his eyes darted to her and had to make a second run at it, “What?”

His reaction 🤣 But 'what?' is right!! Does ythis mean that Riley would've broken off the engagement with Liam if/when she'd managed to convince Drake that the two of them weren't done...? 😶

“Wait!” Drake’s head snapped toward her, “are we…are we talking about a relationship now? All I had to do was hijack an airplane and fight a battalion of King’s Guards to get you to discuss the future with me?”

“You make a solid point. My point is that even though she didn’t do any of that other stuff, she always left that note under his plate when he was late.”

Riley gazed at the distance between the plane and the runway, “How are we getting out?”

“Gravity,” he smirked at her.

Of course 😏

He let himself get distracted by that kiss. He should have heard them sooner, but he was lost in the sweet ocean of bliss that was Riley Brooks.

The sound of boots on pavement penetrated his consciousness and he pulled his head away while tugging her body closer to him as he assessed the danger.

Argh! Nothing ever comes easy in this fic, does it?!

“But….we don’t have an extradition treaty with Auvernall,” Drake sat in an eight by eight cell holding his aching head in his hands.

“We do now,” Liam said cooly as he adjusted his cufflinks without a care in the world. As if he hadn’t just imprisoned his lifelong best friend in a jail cell.

Damn he works fast...!

“I signed a betrothal agreement with Auvernall. My firstborn child will marry one of the Achilles twins.”

“You don’t have a firstborn child!”

“Not yet,” Liam gave him a victorious grin, “But I’m confident Riley can help me with that.”

God, I wanna punch Liam so bad right now...

But I love the twist on canon! 👌

“The palace?” he asked in surprise, “is something not to your liking? I can have the kitchen make whatever you want. Or is it the room? Would you like a bigger one? Just tell me what you need!”

Stab him! Just stab him, for the love of God! 🤬

“He’s fine,” Liam dropped his hands away from her body and stood up, “You still believe in his innocence?”

“Yes.”

“I have something to show you.”

“I want to tell him about the engagement personally.”

What is going on??!! Riley must have some kind of plan, right? Right?!

He was lucky he hadn’t been summarily convicted and executed and he knew it. Liam had probably been too busy working overtime to sway Riley back to his side to fast-track his murder trial.

Riley finally spoke, “Drake, do you remember in the plane I told you that if Liam had proposed to me at the coronation, I would have said yes?”

His eyes dropped to the floor in defeat, “I remember.”

“Do you remember everything I said after that?”

His head snapped up and his eyes locked on hers again, hope that he didn’t dare show surging through him, “Yes.”

She smiled at him again and his heart nearly exploded. Her voice betrayed no emotion as she said, “Then you understand.”

Drake smiled back at the guard that was being helped to his feet. He’d spend a day or two in solitary for the assault but he didn’t care. It had been worth it.

👀👀👀👀👀👀👀👀👀👀

She was finally over Drake; he was sure of it.

“All right,” he acquiesced, “if it will make you feel better, I’ll get you a stun gun and Mara can teach you some self-defense moves if you’d like.”

She is so devious! I love it!

She had been keeping him at arm’s length citing traditional American wedding customs, apparently, abstinence in the weeks before the wedding made the wedding night itself more intense and promoted marital bonding or something.

LOL! I love how he's just eating it all up! 🤣

The wedding was two weeks away.

Everything was going to be fine.

Christ this was arguably even more of a rollercoaster than the previous chapter!! Can't wait to see how they pull off the Great Escape...!!

A Fervid Fixation Chapter 7: Smolder

Series: A Fervid Fixation

Fandom: The Royal Romance

Pairings: Riley x Drake

Rating: MA

Warnings for this chapter: Language

Word Count: 4,304

My other stuff: Master List.

“Fuck that was insane!” Riley laughed as she peered out the front window of the plane. She��d never sat in the cockpit before, but life was Drake was proving to be one adventure after the other.

“I’m just so fucking grateful you didn’t fall for his bullshit!” Drake let out a sigh of relief as Cordonia faded behind them.

Riley regarded him thoughtfully as she pondered rather or not to tell him that she still wasn’t one hundred percent sure about his innocence. She was fairly certain they had both been lying about parts of it.

She just preferred his lies to Liam’s.

She decided to change the subject instead, “Remember when you asked me if Liam had proposed on coronation night if I would have said yes?”

“I remember…”

“I would have said yes.”

His eyes slide sideways to take her in before returning to the instrument panel, “Why are you telling me this right now?”

“I would have said yes, and I would have married him. But only so I could have stayed in Cordonia, near you!”

He missed the switch he had been about to toggle as his eyes darted to her and had to make a second run at it, “What?”

“I didn’t understand why you were acting the way you were toward me, but I wasn’t giving up.”

“Not giving up? Riley, you acted like you hated me half of the time!”

“Look who’s talking,” she said wryly.

A short laugh broke out of him, “Okay, point taken!”

“But despite everything, here we are.” She reached across to rub his shoulder.

“Here we are,” he agreed.

“You’ve proven that you’ll never give up on me and I want you to know that I’ll never give up on you, either. We’re a team now!”

“Wait!” Drake’s head snapped toward her, “are we…are we talking about a relationship now? All I had to do was hijack an airplane and fight a battalion of King’s Guards to get you to discuss the future with me?”

“Hahaha,” she moved her hand back to her own lap, “But yes. I needed to know that you weren’t going to ice me out again before I let myself fully trust you. I think you’ve just proven your commitment to this relationship.”

Despite the fact that he had just committed felony theft of government property and possibly treason, Drake felt his heart soar and he convinced himself that everything was going to work out. “You just said we’re in a relationship.”

“Shut up and fly the plane, Walker.”

“Don’t change the subject! We’re a couple now! You have to start slipping love notes into my lunch bag or something.”

“Absolutely not!”

“Why not? Isn’t that a thing that couples do?”

“It’s not a thing that I do! Have you ever known anyone that actually did shit like that?”

“My mom used to do it.”

“Give you love notes in your lunch bag?”

“No, not me. But my dad worked late a lot, so we had dinner without him pretty regularly. My mom always saved him a plate and if we were going to bed before he was going to be home, she’d wrap the plate in saran wrap and leave a note under it for him.”

“Ah, that’s sweet.”

“Yeah, it was kind of a joke between them. She was really bad at other forms of communication. Never answered the phone, didn’t respond to letters-“

“Probably because she was busy with you and your sister. I bet you were a real hellion.”

“You make a solid point. My point is that even though she didn’t do any of that other stuff, she always left that note under his plate when he was late.”

“Sounds like she loved him very much.”

“She did,” he agreed, “You wouldn’t do that for me?”

“No.”

“No?” he cried in mock indignation.

“Okay,” she laughed, “I’ll make a deal with you. If I’m ever preparing a meal for you that we’re not going to eat together, which by the way, is never going to happen because I don’t like to cook. Why the hell would I cook if we’re not even going to eat it together? If you have to work late, take out is a thing that exists. But if I did….then okay, I’ll leave you a damn note. Happy?”

“You make me happy,” He told her, “Note or no note.”

“Good! Because if you want love notes in your lunch, you have to start changing my oil and shit, right? Isn’t that a thing that couples do?”

“Do you have a car?”

“No, but that’s not the point. I want to know that if I had a car, you would change the oil for me!”

“Tell you what. I’ll buy you a car and then I’ll change the oil in it. How’s that?”

They continued their discussion about what people in relationships were supposed to do until they were circling an abandoned airstrip in Auvernall a scant forty-five minutes later. “We’re going to land here, off everyone’s radar. I have a friend who left a jeep nearby that we’ll use for transportation. I’ll keep in touch with my contacts back in Cordonia and if the airport isn’t safe, we’ll cross the border into Greece by train or on foot.”

“Sounds like you’ve thought this all through.”

His jaw clenched, “Yes, but not because I was planning to have to get you out of the country all along as Liam implied. I’ve always had an escape plan just in case.”

“Have things with Liam been that bad?”

He shook his head, “Never. We’ve always been close. But as I said, I’ve seen what happens to others who cross him and it’s always wise to have an exit strategy, even if you never need it.”

“Okay then.”

He put the plane down on the runway and brought it to a stop just outside the empty terminal. He glanced at his watch, “It’s almost nine p.m. local time, late enough for the darkness to give us some cover, early enough that it’s not suspicious to be out on the roads.”

Riley gazed at the distance between the plane and the runway, “How are we getting out?”

“Gravity,” he smirked at her.

“What about our luggage?” she asked as he opened the door.

“We’ll toss it down,” he told her since there was no landing ramp, “Then I’ll jump down after it, then you’ll jump, and I’ll catch you!”

The suitcases went first, followed by Drake. He landed on his feet, made a visual sweep of the area then looked back up and held his arms out, “Okay, it’s your turn!”

She took a deep breath and then leapt out of the plane, completely trusting in his ability to catch her.

She thudded into his arms, knocking him back, but he kept his feet under him as he caught her then lowered her to the ground, “Told you I’d catch you.”

She wrapped her arms around his neck and kissed him.

He let himself get distracted by that kiss. He should have heard them sooner, but he was lost in the sweet ocean of bliss that was Riley Brooks.

The sound of boots on pavement penetrated his consciousness and he pulled his head away while tugging her body closer to him as he assessed the danger.

Auvernese soldiers melted out of the night and descended upon them, pulling them apart.

They reached for each other but to no avail.

Riley was pulled out of Drake’s grasp as she twisted her body around, trying to keep him in her sight.

“Riley! Riley!” He broke free and scrambled toward her, making it only a few feet before he was intercepted and wrestled to the ground. They zip-tied his hands behind his back as he struggled to get back up. A rifle butt struck him in the back of his head. Riley screaming his name was the last thing he heard before waking up in a jail cell.

“But….we don’t have an extradition treaty with Auvernall,” Drake sat in an eight by eight cell holding his aching head in his hands.

“We do now,” Liam said cooly as he adjusted his cufflinks without a care in the world. As if he hadn’t just imprisoned his lifelong best friend in a jail cell.

“How?” Auvernall and Cordonia had been trying unsuccessfully to come to terms for years.

“I signed a betrothal agreement with Auvernall. My firstborn child will marry one of the Achilles twins.”

“You don’t have a firstborn child!”

“Not yet,” Liam gave him a victorious grin, “But I’m confident Riley can help me with that.”

“No!” Drake yelled as Liam turned and exited the cellblock, “No!”

“Riley, come on love. Please. You have to eat something!” Liam pleaded. He was perplexed by her behavior. It had been two weeks and she was still being truculent and unreasonable.

“I don’t want anything to eat, Liam,” she glared at him from her seat by the window, her food untouched on the small table across the room, “and I want out of this fucking place!”

“The palace?” he asked in surprise, “is something not to your liking? I can have the kitchen make whatever you want. Or is it the room? Would you like a bigger one? Just tell me what you need!”

“It may be a palace, but it’s a fucking prison for me, isn’t it?”

“Of course not!”

“So, I can leave? Call a car around and go to the airport right now?”

“Riley, it’s not safe yet! I’m still investigating-“

“Right.” She turned away from him to stare out across the palace grounds.

Liam sat down behind her, his hand brushing the hair from her neck, “Please tell me what I can do to make you happy.”

“I want to see Drake.”

Liam sighed, “Why, Riley? What purpose would it serve?”

“I need to make sure he’s all right!”

“He’s fine,” Liam dropped his hands away from her body and stood up, “You still believe in his innocence?”

“Yes.”

“I have something to show you.”

Liam knocked softly on Riley’s door. It was late and he hoped he wasn’t waking her.

“Come in,” she called.

It had been a month since her little escapade with Drake and he was sure she was starting to come around. “Have you given any more thought to my proposal?”

“I have,” Riley sat at her dressing table, brushing her hair.

“And?”

He had broken his engagement with Madeleine. Tariq had publicly cleared her name. His father was dead, and all his objections to this union with him. All the obstacles between them had been removed.

All but one.

She laid the brush carefully on the table in front of her and turned to face him, “I want to say yes, Liam, but I have conditions.”

“Name them!” He bent down and grasped her hands in his, bringing them to his mouth to drop kisses along the backs of them.

“I want to see Drake-“

Liam dropped her hands and jolted back, “Why? I thought we had put this to rest! He-“

Riley stood up and placed her hands on his shoulders, “If you’ll listen!”

“Okay….”

“I want to tell him about the engagement personally.”

Liam watched her face, looking for traces of deception. He was hesitant to grant her request but eager to put a ring on her finger. “If you go, I’m coming with you!”

“That’s fine,” she replied serenely as she retook her seat and picked up the hairbrush, “Set it up. Once the visit is accomplished, we can make an official announcement to the world.”

“I’ll arrange a visit for tomorrow morning!” He promised.

“Thank you,” she resumed brushing her hair, “Please close the door on your way out.”

“Hey! Wake up!” The guard banged on the bars of his cell.

Drake lifted his head and looked around, “Riley!” He was on his feet in an instant.

She smiled at him, and he was sure he was dreaming. She was even more beautiful than he remembered and for a moment he forgot to breathe.

Then Liam stepped up next to her and his heart plummeted. But what had he expected? Liam was never going to let her wander down to the cells alone.

He was lucky he hadn’t been summarily convicted and executed and he knew it. Liam had probably been too busy working overtime to sway Riley back to his side to fast-track his murder trial.

“What do you want?” He stepped away from the bars, pretending that the sight of her didn’t set his heart on fire.

“We’re here to inform you of our engagement,” Liam wrapped an arm around Riley and pulled her closer to his body.

Drake’s eyes were guarded as they flicked from one to the other, “So?”

“So, I’ve shown her the security footage from the airport office. She knows what you did.”

“Videos can be faked,” Drake said with a shrug. His eyes locked on Riley’s, “and Liam has access to the best cyber experts. It’s called a deep fake, look it up.”

“She’s not buying your lies anymore. Right, love?”

Riley finally spoke, “Drake, do you remember in the plane I told you that if Liam had proposed to me at the coronation, I would have said yes?”

His eyes dropped to the floor in defeat, “I remember.”

“Do you remember everything I said after that?”

His head snapped up and his eyes locked on hers again, hope that he didn’t dare show surging through him, “Yes.”

She smiled at him again and his heart nearly exploded. Her voice betrayed no emotion as she said, “Then you understand.”

“Come on love, let’s go.” Liam guided her away from the cell.

She glanced back one last time, “And Drake?”

“Yes?”

“I’ll see about getting you some correspondence in here. I remember you saying how much you liked your mother’s notes.”

“Thank you, Your Grace. I’ll be looking for them.”

“Turn it off!” The prisoner yelled as he hurled the book he’d been reading across the room to smack into the TV screen.

The guard on duty glanced up at the screen where the king was announcing his engagement, “It’s just a press conference. What’s your problem?”

“His problem is he’s the psycho who kidnapped her and tried to smuggle her out of the country!” the second guard answered, “why do you think he’s in here?”

“I heard he murdered one of you!” one of the other prisoners in the dayroom interjected with a maniacal laugh.

“Shut your pie hole, Trotter!” The first guard admonished, “Or you’ll go back to your cell!”

“Okay, fine!” Trotter threw his hands up in the air, “I was just saying. He also beat the crap out of that duke over her!” He jabbed his finger in the air toward the flat screen hanging on the wall.

“I know that guy claimed he was totally at fault,” the second guard said, “Unwanted advance or whatever, but I heard he was coerced by the king to lie.”

“Why would the king do that?” the first guard asked.

“Have you seen her?” the second guard leered, “And I heard she’s a real wildcat in the sack!”

Drake launched himself at the guard, tackling him to the ground before he had a chance to react. All the rage he had been unable to unleash since finding himself locked up combined with the helplessness he’d felt watching her with Liam during their visit the day before boiled over as he attacked the guard with ruthless vigor.

“Shit!” the first guard yelled as he fumbled with his walkie-talkie to summon backup before attempting to pull the prisoner off his compatriot. Something he wasn’t able to accomplish until backup arrived.

“Goddamn it, Walker!” the first guard panted as he finally got the cuffs on him, “What the fuck was that?”

“Don’t fucking talk about her like that!”

“Okay, okay,” the guard chuckled as he pulled the prisoner to his feet, “you must have a burning desire to see the inside of solitary confinement. Let’s go!”

Drake smiled back at the guard that was being helped to his feet. He’d spend a day or two in solitary for the assault but he didn’t care. It had been worth it.

“What are you up to today, my love?” Liam greeted her with a kiss before sitting down to breakfast.

“Exploring the palace!” she replied enthusiastically.

“Really?” he was pleased with the turn her disposition had taken. She was happy again. The spring was back in her step and the sparkle was back in her eyes. She was once again the girl he had fallen in love with.

She was finally over Drake; he was sure of it.

“Are you sure? I could have the driver take you into town if you wanted.”

“No thank you,” she smiled at him, “I discovered a second library yesterday! It’s a little dusty, but there are hardcover first editions in there of some of my favorite authors!”

Liam smiled as she prattled on about books. Offering to let her go into town had been a test and she had passed. She no longer wished to leave the palace. Drake had failed to poison her against him.

After breakfast, Liam headed to his office while Riley spent a few hours in the small forgotten library in the east wing, pouring over old palace blueprints. There were so many secret passageways. She wondered if Liam was aware of them all.

Just before lunch, she wandered into the kitchen. Plucking a grape from a bowl of fruit on a marble countertop, she sauntered over to where an attractive younger woman was preparing food.

“Hey, Siobhan,” Riley greeted her.

“Hello, Your Grace,” Siobhan blushed at the attention.

“I told you, call me Riley!”

“Yes, Your-Riley.” Siobhan’s flush deepened from pink to crimson under the queen in waiting’s gaze.

“Working on lunch for the prisoners again?”

“Yes, but you don’t have to-“

“Nonsense! I have nothing better to do and I enjoy food preparation. It reminds me of summers with my grandmother,” Riley told her as she started measuring out the pasta into containers, checking the names on the trays against any food allergies as Siobhan had taught her on one of her previous visits.

“Okay, then, I do enjoy the company,” the younger woman gave Riley a shy smile as she turned to stir the sauce.

The two women chatted amicably as they worked. The rest of the kitchen staff had grown accustomed to the queen in waiting’s presence during the hour before lunch was served and they no longer paid any attention to it, focusing on their own work instead.

Siobhan sighed as she watched Riley slip discreetly out a side entrance. She quite enjoyed her company and was still a bit astounded that someone in her position would hang around to help with food preparation. Especially for prisoners.

Of course, she never stayed long. She was always gone before the guard came to collect the food trays.

“Hey, Bruno,” Riley looked up from the book she’d been reading when the older guard popped in to check on her.

The closer it crept to the wedding, the more cautious Liam became with her safety. That’s how it was worded to the guards anyway.

“Yes, Your Grace?”

“Can I ask you a question?”

“Of course.”

“Do you know a Lt. Jason Toussaint?”

“The guy in cyber security? I don’t really know him. Why?”

“No reason,” she kept her voice neutral as she dropped her eyes back to the pages of her book.

Jason Toussaint was alone in his room when a sealed envelope slid under his door. He opened the door and looked up and down the hallway but whoever had left it was gone.

He closed the door and opened the envelope.

“Meet me in the hedge maze at midnight.”

“So, you do exist,” she greeted the blonde soldier that stood in front of her.

“I exist.” He eyed her suspiciously. She was the reason his friend was sitting in a jail cell.

“How far are you willing to go to help Drake? Because I have an idea…”

“I’m listening…”

A sealed envelope was slipped under her door at the prearranged time. Liam was tied up in meetings all day.

She was alone but she locked herself in her bathroom as a precaution as she rifled through the contents.

In her hands was proof that Constantine was in fact behind the setup and Liam knew. Emails, payoffs, and orders to redact statements and seal documents.

She couldn’t use any of it. She couldn’t expose Jason, who had only held onto his job after she had spoken his name to Liam because he had not done anything other than answer a superior officer’s questions about his employment status.

Not that any of it mattered. So, what if the previous king had set her up? He was dead and the scandal had been resolved in her favor. No one would care and Liam was above the law even if he had broken one, which he hadn’t.

She couldn’t get caught with it either. That would derail everything.

She had just wanted to be sure.

She peeked out to make sure no one was in her room before making her way to the fireplace and tossing the contents into the flames.

“Liam, are all these guards really necessary?”

“Yes, my love. They’re here to protect you.”

“From what?”

“Anything. Everything! I have enemies. Being a public figure puts you automatically at risk. There are crazy people in the world, Riley. You should know that. You’ve already been kidnapped once.”

“Indeed, I have…” she mused as she looked at him, “When you put it that way, I’m not sure I feel safe even in the palace!”

“That’s what the guards are for.”

“I’d feel better if I had something to protect myself with…just in case.”

“Like what?”

“I don’t know…pepper spray, a stun gun, something!”

“All right,” he acquiesced, “if it will make you feel better, I’ll get you a stun gun and Mara can teach you some self-defense moves if you’d like.”

She rewarded him with a brilliant smile, “Yes, I’d like that very much. Thank you!”

“Hey, I haven’t seen you before. Where’s Fred?” the guard called to the unfamiliar janitor waiting to be buzzed in to clean the dayroom.

“He called in sick,” the man replied, “They sent me to fill in.”

The guard eyed him up and down. He had on the coveralls of the janitorial staff and the proper ID badge hanging from his pocket. His eyes took in the name and photo then went back to the man’s face. Everything checked out. “All right. Go on in. But be quick!”

“Yes, sir!” The janitor shook his head vigorously to indicate understanding.

“What the fuck is this?” the guard manning the security feed asked as he thumped the panel.

“What is what?”

“The feed just flickered off and back on.”

The guard that had buzzed the janitor in peered at the screen. The guy was mopping the floor. He decided to go check on him just in case.

He opened the door and scanned the room.

The janitor looked up, “Everything okay?”

“Everything’s fine. Just hurry up! You’ve got ten minutes! You have to be out of here before we bring the prisoners in for their TV time.”

“Okay, boss!”

Ten minutes later he had completed his task and was standing next to the guard station as the prisoners were escorted, single file, into the day room.

The guards buzzed him through the door. He glanced back over his shoulder just before it closed behind him.

Drake looked up at the sound of the door buzzing just in time to see a man step through and glance back. His eyes locked on Jason Toussaint dressed as a janitor for a brief instant before the guard shoved him through the dayroom door.

The notes had started arriving taped to the bottom of his plate. They were small scraps of paper, with short messages. The first one had simply said, “Not safe to respond. Working on a plan.”

Subsequent notes ranged from “I love you” to “keep your head up” and then pieces of a plan began to arrive, one scrap of paper at a time. Until one day a keycard showed up with a note that simply read, “tonight.”

“Have you enjoyed your visit, Lady Hana?”

“Yes, Your Majesty, I have! It’s been so good catching up with you and Riley both!” Hana threw her arms around Liam and hugged him.

He chuckled as he hugged her back, “Are you sure you can’t stay a little longer?”

“As much as I’d love that, my mother’s birthday is next week and I have to get home and oversee the party preparations. But I’ll be back for the wedding!”

“Very well. You know you’re welcome here anytime.” It wasn’t that he had an overriding fondness for his former suitor, it was more that she made his fiancée happy, and keeping Riley happy was crucial to getting her down the aisle.

Once the marriage was accomplished, he would be able to relax. She was going to love the private island he’d picked for their honeymoon and with any luck, she’d come back pregnant.

She had been keeping him at arm’s length citing traditional American wedding customs, apparently, abstinence in the weeks before the wedding made the wedding night itself more intense and promoted marital bonding or something.

He was getting impatient. If not for Cordonian customs and council requirements, he would have dispensed with all the pageantry and eloped with her.  

The wedding was two weeks away.

Everything was going to be fine.

[shirakumos-sandwich-shop]

Shoto, Arranged Marriage Au Pt.5

Masterlist

Shoto x Reader Part 5 (5/5)

Age: 19

"Oh my GOSH Y/N!!" Fuyumi practically screamed in your face, making you shrink back in fear.

"Does it look really bad?!" You frantically questioned her, looking down at the lacey, white dress that adorned your frame. "Y/N, you're obviously drop dead gorgeous. Shoto is a very lucky man."

The butterflies in your stomach almost exploded out of you at Fuyumi's comment, carefully turning to see yourself in the mirror with the help of your trusty maid of honor.

"This is going to be the best wedding ever for sure, AHHHH I'M SO EXCITED!" Fuyumi went off in another tirade of squeals and giggles. You shakenly joined her, trying to ignore the nerves building. Who would have thought 4 years after this entire arrangement started, you would actually be marrying someone who loved you. Well….you assumed Shoto loved you. He had never said it to you out loud, but his actions had clearly been communicating he loved you.

...so why were you so damn nervous?

**Meanwhile**

"Well you damn nerd, you ready to get married or whatever?" Bakugo barked over at Shoto who was attaching his cufflink to his sleeve.

"Obviously so, otherwise I wouldn't be going through with it." Shoto calmly replied, no longer phased by Bakugos outbursts. The same couldn't be said for Midoriya, who was cautiously standing near Bakugo, trying to encourage some lighter conversation. "Kacchan, maybe don't call the groom a damn nerd on his wedding day?" He squeaked out, making Bakugo set off firecrackers in his palm, "I'll call him whatever I want, if he's offended by the way I talk he wouldn't have asked me to be in his damn wedding, idiot Deku."

Midoriya nodded along before turning and seeing Shoto's silent form, well, more silent than usual. "Are you okay Todoroki?"

Shoto nodded slowly, looking around like he was confused. "Yes, just nervous is all." He tried to reassure his groomsmen but Bakugo wasn't buying it.

"Hey. What's wrong with you huh? You can't be nervous, you just said you loved her and you're not nervous." The angry man paused at the surprised look the groom was sporting. "What the hell?"

"I haven't told her I love her." Shoto practically whispered, the sudden realization blowing his mind.

"Whoa what? Haven't you been together almost 5 years?" Midoriya questioned, his mind working a mile a minute to understand the news.

"Only an Extra like you would come this far and not have the guts to tell your woman you love her." Bakugo scoffed, quickly shoving the groom out of the room, effectively causing Midoriya to panic even more.

"Kacchan stop it! What are you doing?!" "I'm taking him to his woman, he needs to tell her before they get married you damn nerds. It's basic relationship etiquette."

****

You were adjusting your veil when a harsh knock echoed from the door, making you turn in confusion. "Hel-" You went to speak but were interrupted when the door was kicked open by none other than Bakugo. "Bakugo, what are you doing here? Is Shoto okay?" The groomsman scoffed slightly at your question before reaching forward and snatching your hand. You squealed out in surprise as Bakugo dragged you over to the door, stopped right at the doorway before he turned to you. "Alright IcyHot, she's right here."

A familiar hand stuck out from the other side of the door, making Bakugo shove your hand forward while also positioning your back against the wall. "Bad luck to see each other." He commented before swiftly walking out of the room. "Hurry up IcyHot we don't have all day." 

"Shoto? What's going on?" You questioned, incredibly confused with the entire situation.

"I realized something." He sounded nervous, which made your nerves kick into hyper gear. 'He's not ready' Your anxiety taunted you. "I've never…..told you. How I feel." He continued, a slight squeeze of your hand told you he knew what you were thinking, and that you needed to just stop thinking and listen.

"I love you. Which I obviously wouldn't be marrying you if I felt any different. But I wanted to say it before we go out there. You deserve that." His voice trembled, and you moved to walk through the doorway.

"No! I want to see you on the aisle, the way we planned." He quickly reassured you. "Shoto Todoroki, you are truly one of a kind. I love you too. Now leave before I walk through the doorway and ruin our plans." You tried to laugh off your own tears, which did not work.

With one more squeeze of the hand, Shoto left to go back to his room with his party. Meanwhile, you confidently finished getting ready, no longer feelings the nerves from before.

Tag list:

@shoutocakie

[deceitfuldevil]

Cosmic Glitch

Baron Helmut Zemo X Reader

Summary: You always believed your soulmate was somewhere out there and that one day you'd see color, but the day you met him you refused to accept it. (soulmate AU! where you can't see color until you first look into your soulmates eyes)

Warnings: use of y/n, swearing I think?, poorly written, clearly from my drafts, headcannon turned imagine, fluff <3

Word Count: 2.2K

You had always been close with Sam ever since you served in the Air Force together, you were always up for any mission or task he needed help with.

After everyone was blipped back you had lost your job, so when Sam called you up asking you to tag along on a mission and promised compensation you couldn't turn him down.

You met Sam and Bucky in the garage and when the infamous Helmut Zemo walked in you locked eyes with him, and a fit a color exploded before you.

Zemo had stopped mid sentence

“I really don’t think I’m—“

Your heart sank deep into your chest

“Oh no” you said barely above a whisper.

“I uh, I’m not useful to this operation” he finished, stumbling over his words. Which you'd learn later on was very uncharacteristic of him.

You just stared at him as he nodded at you, a quiet hello.

Your luck was just impeccable wasn’t it? Zemo? Helmet fucking Zemo? It had to be him? The man that tore apart the avengers and bombed the UN for Christ sake! He was a fucking criminal!

The plane ride to Madripoor was above all else, awkward.

You barely spoke, not even making eye contact with anyone unless directly spoken to.

“You alright Y/n?” Sam asked, placing his hand on your shoulder.

You only nodded a small yes, feeling your soulmates prying eyes burning holes into the sight of Sam’s hand on your shoulder.

“Y/n, such a pretty name. I love the way it rolls off the tongue. Y/n.” Zemo said, toying with the sound of your name on his lips. Flustering you, but angering Bucky.

“Cool it Zemo, she’s just a kid.” He warned. Causing Zemo to wave Bucky off with his hand as he took a sip of his warm champagne.

But Bucky was right, you were just a kid. Your soulmate, the Baron for Christ sake, had to be at least 20 some years older than you.

Why did fate set you up with a man that was an adult before you were even born? Didn’t he have a wife before the battle of Sokovia? Maybe this was some kind of cosmic glitch.

I mean, it had to be... right?

Of course you wouldn’t be able to shake the Baron so easily, especially not when you needed a secret cover to pose as in Madripoor

There was only one role for you to play being so new on the “superhero” scene that you were unknown and considering you didn’t look like a single high profile criminal out there.

The Barons fiancé. His schatzi.

Obviously, you couldn’t just show up to a bar in low town in your suit either, so Zemo being ostentatious man that he is came prepared in the worst way possible.

You closed the door to first class and zipped open the black dress bag that Zemo handed you, telling you it would fit well with the part you were due to play.

A very short velvety plum dress sat in front of your color bound eyes. Ridiculously tall heels to match.

It was never something you’d wear out, you’d never have the confidence to wear such a short and expensive dress out to a bar of all places. But the material felt so good and with the new blessing of colored sight almost made you satisfied with outfit presented.

But you walked out fully dressed and maintained your attitude.

“Who am I supposed to be? A high-end hooker?” You quipped, trying to pull the hem of the dress down as far as it would go.

“You, schatzi, will be playing the part of my fiancé.” Zemo said simply. Fixing the cufflink on his left arm.

You stood there awestruck at what he had just said to you. It was hard enough for you to try and ignore that he was your soulmate but now you had to play the part?

“Oh, and you’ll be needing this” he said, digging into his pocket and flicking a ring at you. You caught it, examining it and gasping softly. You had never seen a diamond so big.

You slipped it on your finger, it fit perfectly. Which, made you smile to yourself in a way you knew you shouldn’t have.

He’s a criminal, he’s a psychopath. He’s a criminal, he’s a psychopath. You continually repeated to yourself the whole ride to low town, allowing yourself to think for even a second that just because he was your soulmate meant that he was a good person was not in the books. You simply couldn’t do it.

But as you arrived in the deeper part of Madripoor Zemo informed everyone that they must play their role to a T, because their lives depended on it.

As the car stopped Zemo walked around the side and opened the door for you, grabbing your hand and leading you out. Pressing a gentle kiss to your hand as you stood upright.

You eyes trailed up to his as a blush became evident on your face, when you locked eyes, boom, another shockwave of color screamed into your eyes. You saw the detailing in his fur collar, the bright neon signage all around, the gold detailing in Bucky’s vibraium arm, all of it.

You wanted to see color forever, you hated knowing that if you went without seeing Zemo for too long, the color would fade out.

In ordeal at the bar came and went, the business with Selby is where things got interesting and simultaneously made you nervous.

For some reason it’s almost as if Zemo could sense this because he squeezed your hand tightly and you both sat down on the couch across from Selby.

After everyone else had either been introduced or acknowledged, all that was left was you.

“And who’s this pretty little thing you’ve got yourself here Zemo?” Selby asked, clearing prodding knowing he’d been married before.

“This...” he trailed off, grabbing your left hand to show off the ring “is my beautiful fiancé” he finished

“Oh, got yourself a little trophy wife after the other one kicked the can huh?" She added, staring down the large rock sitting on your finger.

“That’s very sweet of you to think, but this one here is my soulmate. The first woman to ever make me see in color.” Zemo said, his words so sweet honey might as well as been dripping off his tongue. His gaze turned to you, boom, another bright flash of color that made a shiver run down your spine.

“Oh how sweet, but I don’t believe it.” Selby said with a grin, Sam and Bucky tensed up slightly. Siding with Selby because they too didn’t believe Zemo when he referred to you as his soulmate.

“Test me.” You challenged, stupidly if I may add.

“Excuse me?” Selby asked, quirking an eyebrow up at you

“If you don’t believe we’re soulmates, test me. I can name any color you’d like.” You continued, a part of you always looking for a challenge, the other part also wanting to test yourself see if maybe this whole color thing was faulty or one-ended.

“Fine, we’ll start easy. What’s the color of that slutty dress you’ve got on?” She asked, angry that you challenged her

“Easy, the same color as my soulmates turtle neck. A deep purple, plum if you will.” You said carefully caressing the material of Zemo’s shirt

“You could’ve been told that before you arrived, what about my lipstick?” She pressed as she pursed her lips out

“A cheap magenta” you deadpanned, done with her games. She scoffed at you.

“And this couch?” She asked grinning, patting the cushion beside her.

“Trick question. It’s a old a dirty worn out pattern, it has no specific color” you said with a fake smile, Zemo’s hand snaking around your waist as he pulled you a little closer.

The room fell silent just long enough for things to feel awkward before Selby started laughing uncontrollably.

“Well Baron, the universe certainly has picked you a handful! Now what business did you want to do with me again?” And just like that, it was over and you were suddenly running from bounty hunters on the streets.

When Sharon rescued the four of you the ride up to her place in high town was painfully silent. Zemo kept a firm hand on your thigh. Bucky stared off into space ashamed of how easily he fell back into form, and Sam sat on his thoughts wondering if you and Zemo were really soulmates.

No one really spoke to each other, just different conversations with Sharon. After what went down at the Bar and then with Selby... a mood was set, things had changed.

When Zemo stood up and announced he wanted to go join the party and made his way towards the exit you told Bucky you’d keep on eye on him. Sam wanted to protest but at that point you both were already out the door.

You sat from afar watching Zemo on the floor of the club horribly attempting to dance along with the rest of the party-goers. When you laughed a little to yourself he looked up at you, boom, that beautiful shock of color again. It never got old.

But you quickly averted your eyes and disappeared from his gaze as you went to the bar for a drink. When the bartender slid your drink over suddenly Zemo was at your side announcing he’d pay for it.

Zemo started to snake his hand around your waist once more but this time you smacked his hand away

“We’re not playing house anymore, Baron.” You told him, using his formal title.

“But you see what I see, do you not?” He asked, tentatively reaching for your hand.

“See what?” You asked, avoiding his burning gaze. You knew damn well what he was taking about but refused to admit to even yourself. He was a horrible man, a criminal, a rich psychopath! It ached your heart that someone with such a shitty past was who you were meant to be with for the rest of your life.

“The beautiful colors. I see your bright eyes, your sleek hair, those sweet pink lips. Now color is all around me too, I can see the colors of the club. I see the blue radiating off that light, the red in this drink you ordered, the green that lady’s hair! You love opened my eyes, Y/n. With you, I can see.” Zemo pressed on, smiling as he looked in awe at all the colors around him. He placed his hand gently over yours. You flinched but didn’t move away from his touch

“But this has to be wrong. I can’t be the person for you. You had a wife and kids right? Didn’t they bring any color into your life?” You asked, feeling a warm heat rise to your cheeks from the small contact you two were now sharing

“I loved my wife and son sure, but they were always grey to me. Remember that I’m a Baron, when you’re royalty your marriage options aren’t as wide as the universe has set for you.” He pointed out, taking your hand and slowly rubbing your knuckles.

“Still surely this has to be some kind of universal glitch! I mean you’re what? 20 some years older than me? What about all the horrible shit you’ve done? You’re a criminal! I was made to be a hero! We don’t mix, let alone fall in love!” You babbled on

“Listen, y/n. I am not proud of my past, I was a grief stricken man who had just lost his wife and child along with his entire country. I was only doing what I believed to be right at the moment, is that not what you try to do as well?” He asked, trying to find similarities between the two of you. Some common ground.

“Zemo I—“ you started, turning to face him and looking into his hazel brown eyes again and feeling that boom of color that would never get old, but did make you lose your train of thought.

“Zemo I’m scared” you finished off, your planned statement turning into a confession. You didn’t take your eyes off his this time as he stared back down at you. Bring his free hand to your cheek he smiled softly.

“I’m scared too, schatzi. But the feeling you give me makes me feel like everything is going to be alright. Stay with me, ride this out and see where it goes. I promise I’ll make it worth your while. Designer clothes, expensive jewelry, sport cars, you name it and I’ll buy it for you. I’ll fly you any place you’ve ever wanted to go, show you every sight you’ll ever need to see.” He tools breathe, a single tear slipping down his face.

“Please, let’s give this a shot.” He ended. Nine years with losing your wife, child, country, and being imprisoned for a few years really changed a man; and made him that much more desperate for someone like you, his soulmate, to stay.

And stay you did. The first year was rocky wrapping things up with the super soldiers on the loose and clearing Zemo’s name in the eyes of the Power Broker and the UN. Based on his efforts to take down the last of the super soldiers and good words from Sam and Bucky his sentence was reduced to one year under house arrest, which made for a great way to get to know each other better.

The years after that were far beyond smooth sailing, they were dare you even say perfect. You traveled the world with Zemo, lived the most lavish life, saw the most amazing things.

All in color.