#his face lighting up the second he sees giselle ... him immediately reaching for her hand.... the soft way he says her name................

[robertphilip]

All the party guests go home, except for one...

[pikapeppa]

Cullen/Lavellan smut: Command

Cullen x Piper Lavellan SMUT for @schoute because TRADE DAYS ARE BEST DAYS. 

In which Piper is sheer cheek, and Cullen has had it. 😏

Read on AO3 instead; ~4400 words.

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

Cullen kneeled carefully in Skyhold’s chapel and gazed up at the statue of Andraste. Her serene stone face was clean of moss and mold, well-maintained as she was by the handful of Chantry sisters and brothers who had joined their cause. The flickering golden lights from the votives and myriad candles cast wavering shadows across Andraste’s face, while also chasing all but the most stubborn shadows into the corners of the chapel. 

He took a deep breath to center himself, then bowed his head and closed his eyes. “There was no word for heaven or for earth, for sea or sky,” he murmured. “All that existed was silence. Then the Voice of the Maker rang out, the first word, and His word became all that might be: dream and idea, hope and fear, endless possibilities. And from it He made His firstborn.” Cullen took another long, slow breath, then continued to recite the threnody. “And He said to them: ‘in my image I forge you. To you, I give dominion over all that exists. By your will may all things be done.’” 

He went on to quietly recite the second stanza, taking measured and meditative breaths between phrases to calm his mind. When he finished reciting the second stanza, he opened his eyes. 

Piper was sitting beside him.

He jolted, then released his breath on a quiet huff of laughter. Her arms were draped loosely around her knees, and her mischievous grin was an endearing contrast with Andraste’s placid expression. 

“Piper. You startled me,” he said warmly. “How long have you been sitting here?”

“Since the bit about the fancy golden city,” she said. She winked at him and stretched her legs out. “You can keep going if you want. I can wait and watch.”

Her tone was salacious, and Cullen smiled. “That’s all right,” he said. “I was finished anyway. I simply wanted to say a quick prayer, since I missed the service this morning.”

Piper widened her eyes. “You missed the service this morning? What a naughty commander.”

He gave her a chiding smirk. She knew very well that he’d missed Mother Giselle’s weekly prayer service this morning. Piper had just returned from the Hissing Wastes last night, and instead of rising with the sun and having breakfast with his men before the prayer service as he usually did, Cullen had opted instead to remain in bed with his elven lover until almost seven-thirty. It was an unprecedented lie-in, but one that he didn’t regret in the slightest.

He rose to his feet and politely held out a hand to help her up. “What brings you to the chapel? I don’t believe I’ve ever seen you set foot in here.”

She smiled and took his hand. “Joke’s on you, then,” she said. “I’ve been in here exactly once before. I made a flower crown for your girl Andraste there because she looks a little plain, but I got caught by one of those Chantry sisters while I was climbing her to put the crown on her head.”

His eyebrows jumped up. “Climbing– wait. You climbed the statue of Andraste?”

“Yes, of course,” she said as though this was an everyday occurrence. “How else was I supposed to put the flower crown on her head? Anyway, one of those sisters caught me and started scolding me about disrespecting Andraste, and then another sister came in and started going on about how it wasn’t disrespectful because I was Andraste’s chosen and that’s how I was communing with her…” She grimaced. “Total nugshit, of course, but they started arguing about whether I was a heathen or not, and some of the gardeners crowded around to watch, and I snuck out and ran away during the ruckus. I’ve never come back since.”

Cullen stared in disbelief at her guileless face. “How have you never told me this tale before?”

“You never asked,” Piper said.

He frowned. “I… I would hope I wouldn't have to ask for tales like this.”

She pulled a little face. “Why? Am I in trouble? Cassandra already scolded me about leaving footprints on Andraste’s back.”

His eyes widened. “Footprints? How…?” His gaze dropped to Piper’s perpetually filthy feet. “No, I see. Of course you’re not in trouble. I’m simply surprised you didn’t tell me such an… interesting story.”

She shrugged and blinked her big hazel eyes. “I didn’t mean to not tell you. It just got lost in the shuffle, I guess.” She folded her arms and smiled. “It sounds like you enjoy my interesting stories.”

“You know I do,” he said. “They make for very interesting reports.”

Piper gave him a sweeping bow. “Anything to entertain my honourable commander.”

He huffed in amusement, and Piper’s smile widened. She tucked her hands in her pockets and rocked idly on her heels, and as she looked around the chapel, Cullen looked at her. Her dirty feet were bare as always, and her slender hips were adorned with a chaotically colourful sash that the Inquisition’s children had woven for her. Her breeches were faded and patched, and her untamed cloud of hair stood in sharp contrast with the chapel’s simple but tidy decor. 

“Piper,” he said tentatively. “Did you… you didn’t know much about Andrastianism before the Inquisition, did you?”

“Nope,” she said casually. “All I knew was the occasional human swearing about ‘by the Maker’ or ‘Maker’s breath’ when my clan ran across them while hunting or travelling. Sometimes they’d tell us that the Maker had no place for knife-ears in the afterlife or whatever. Which would have been insulting if any of us gave a fuck what those random humans thought.” She shot him a guarded look. “Uh, no offense.”

“That’s all right,” he said. Her words were blunt, but not surprising; he knew Piper didn’t believe herself to be Andraste’s Herald, and most people in Skyhold had stopped calling her the Herald at her insistence.

She wandered slowly around the small chapel, and Cullen watched her fondly for a moment before speaking again. “So I suppose your presence here now is not because you were hoping to learn more about Andraste.”

She shot him a cheeky smile. “Sadly, no. A heathen Dalish is what I’m fated to be. But don’t worry, I won’t dance naked in the moonlight singing spooky Elvhen songs or anything like that.”

Dance naked in the moonlight? he thought. Her words might be teasing, but an unwitting image popped into his head nonetheless: a nude Piper stretching and twisting in the darkness, moonlight glinting off of her hair and rendering it an even brighter shade of silver than it already was…

He shifted uncomfortably and cleared his throat, feeling slightly guilty for having such thoughts in the chapel. Unfortunately, Piper seemed to detect exactly where his thoughts had gone; her smile was turning wicked.

She took a step closer to him. “Unless you want me to, of course,” she said. “I could dance naked right here in the chapel if that’s what you’d like.” 

“No,” he said hastily. “That’s – I wouldn’t advise that.”

“Why not?” she said. She took another slinky step toward him. “From what I hear, Andraste here was quite the barbarian firebrand. I don’t think she’d mind.”

Cullen scoffed; of course those were the stories of Andraste that Piper would remember. “No, Piper. Getting, er, naked in the chapel won’t be necessary.”

“Who said anything about necessary?” she said. “I’m talking about fun.” She stepped right up to him and trailed her fingertips over his chestplate. She nibbled her lush lower lip, and Cullen stared gormlessly at her mouth until her fingers slid over the buckle of his belt.

A flare of heat bloomed in his belly, and he hastily stepped away from her. “Not here,” he said, quietly but firmly.

“Then where?” she asked.

“Go to my office,” Cullen said.

The words came out more bluntly than he’d intended, and he immediately regretted his tone; Piper was still his boss, after all. But Piper perked up. 

“Commander, is that an order I hear?” she asked.

Her tone was saucy, and her eyes were bright and eager like a magpie’s. Cullen hesitated for a moment, then squared his shoulders. “Yes, Piper. That’s an order. Go to my office now.”

She beamed at him, then darted out of the chapel and made a beeline for the nearest stairs up to the battlements, and Cullen exhaled slowly to calm his shameful libido. He glanced at the statue of Andraste. 

“I apologize, Lady Andraste,” he murmured. Then he turned and quickly followed Piper’s path through the garden and up the stairs. 

At the top of the stairs, he paused. Piper’s colourful woven sash was sitting in a neatly folded pile on the top step. 

He swallowed with a combination of nerves and interest. Piper had a habit of leaving trails of her clothing on the floor when she was stripping, whether before getting into bed or before they made love. If she was leaving pieces of her clothing for him to find… 

He picked up the sash and gazed along the battlements. In the deep darkness of night, he could just spot her bright silver hair as she ran along the battlements toward the tower that housed his office and bedroom. 

He forced himself to maintain a respectable pace as he followed her path. He nodded politely to the smiling guards – smiling because Piper had said something amusing to them as she passed, no doubt – and by the time his tower was near, Piper was standing at the door. 

And she was untucking her shirt from her breeches. 

He practically ran the last fifteen steps to reach her. “Piper, no,” he said firmly. “Don’t do that out here.”

She pouted at him and pulled her shirttails out of the back of her breeches. “So many rules, Commander. Not in the chapel, not on the battlements… where can a girl get naked?” She started pulling the shirt up over her torso.

Cullen hastily crowded her against the door so no one else could see, and she chuckled. “Ooh, this is cozy,” she said. She rolled her shirt up higher – high enough that he could see the first hint of the pale tattoo that adorned her sternum and the undersides of her breasts… 

A rush of lust surged between his legs, but he grabbed her hands to still them. “Piper, stop this,” he ordered. 

“Make me,” she retorted.

He looked down at her. Her chin was defiantly lifted, and her lips were curled in what Dorian would call a ‘shit-eating grin’, and still she was trying to pull her troublemaker’s fingers from his grip. 

He scowled at her, then released one of her hands and hastily unlocked the door to his office. As soon as the door was open, Piper stepped into his office and pulled off her shirt.

The simmer of interest in his gut burst into boil, and Cullen stood dumbly in the doorway for a moment as she dropped her shirt on the floor. She sashayed around his desk, then plopped down in his chair and picked up one of the many papers on his desk.

Cullen shot her a resentful look as he locked the door behind them. “Excuse me. That is my chair,” he said sternly. “And those are my reports.”

She tilted her head and didn’t move. “I’m the Inquisitor, though. So technically these reports are mine.”

Her tone was absolutely dripping with mischief, and he raised an eyebrow at her. “That’s rather tyrannical of you.”

“It is, isn’t it?” she said cheerfully. She put the report back on his desk and stretched her arms overhead, and Cullen’s wayward eyes dropped to her breasts: perfect petite breasts framed by the swirling artistry of her tattoos… 

Then Piper folded her arms behind her head and propped her feet up on his desk. 

Cullen tore his eyes away from her nipples and crossed his arms. “You are being exceedingly rude,” he said. 

“Whatever do you mean?” she said, and she idly waved one dirty foot.

He forced himself to focus on her foot instead of her bare breasts. “That… that naked talk in the Chantry,” he said. “And the, er, stripping on the battlements. And now this.” He gestured at her feet. “Josephine would be displeased.”

Piper barked out a laugh and ran her hands through her silver mane. “I don’t doubt it. But Josie’s not here; you are.” She raised an eyebrow in challenge. “What are you going to do about it, Commander?”

Cullen shook his head slightly. Piper often made salacious comments about how stern and demanding he was when training his men, and this wasn’t the first time she’d tried to goad him into being stern in a more intimate setting. But this was the first time he was actually rising to the bait – both figuratively and literally, if the pulsing tightness in his trousers was any indication.

He placed his palms on his desk and looked her right in the eyes. “Remove your feet from my desk,” he said. “Now.”

Her eyes widened, and he could practically see her thoughts spinning as she decided whether to obey him or defy him. Finally she slid her feet to the floor and tilted her head. “There. Happy now?”

Her expression was cocky, and Cullen shook his head. “Not by half,” he said. “Now remove your, er, person from my chair.”

She grinned at him. “Are you trying to tell me to get my ass out of your seat?”

He scoffed and folded his arms. “I wouldn’t say it like that. Unlike you, I’m not rude.”

She snickered. “That’s too bad,” she said. Then she lounged back in his chair. 

Cullen stared at her as he considered his next move. Her whole golden torso was brazenly displayed, and the buzzing in his body was clamouring to see more. But Piper was being uncooperative unless he told her, in no uncertain terms, what he wanted her to do… 

He took a deep breath to muster his courage. I am the commander of the Inquisition’s army, he told himself. If I can command this army, then I can command Piper Lavellan. With these encouraging – albeit perhaps false – words at the front of his mind, he stalked around to the front of his desk, then gripped the arms of the chair and pulled it around to face him. 

Piper barked out a surprised laugh. “Hey! What’s the big idea–”

He planted his hands firmly on the arms of the chair and looked her dead in the eye. “Piper, get that bottom of yours out of my chair,” he ordered. “Right now.”

She beamed at him. “You know, I would, really I would, but I can’t very well stand up when you’re looming over me like this.”

He leaned closer to her. “I didn’t say anything about standing up.”

As soon as the bold words left his mouth, a touch of worry diluted the buzzing heat in his belly. Had he gone too far? Was that too bold? It seemed he had nothing to fear, however; Piper’s jaw dropped in delight. 

“Oh my. Now that’s a naughty commander,” she purred. “All right, no standing. What should I do instead?” 

He let out a quiet sigh of relief, then stepped back from his chair and folded his arms. “Go upstairs and wait for me. On your, er, knees,” he added sternly. ��And you had better be naked by the time I join you.” 

She popped out of his chair and gave him a cheeky salute. “As you say, serrah,” she chirped, and she practically vaulted up the ladder to his bedroom. 

He blew out a relieved breath. Perhaps he was up to this commanding lark in the bedroom after all. He began removing his armour, and when he was finally down to just his trousers, he climbed up to his bedroom.

Piper was naked, just as he’d told her to be, and she was kneeling on the rug beside his bed. She smiled at him, and her bright hazel eyes drifted from his face to his chest and down. By the time her eyes were on his groin, his manhood was pulsing from the heated intent of her gaze and from the tempting sight of her on her knees.

Her tongue flicked out to wet her lips. “Now what?” she said. “What do you want me to do next?” 

He swallowed hard, then slowly approached her. “Help me take these off,” he said, and he plucked at the waistband of his trousers. 

“With pleasure,” she said. “And I mean that literally.” She reached out and began quickly unbuttoning his trousers, and Cullen tried hard to control his breathing as her fingers grazed his skin, but his efforts to control himself were for naught: as soon as the buttons were undone, Piper pulled his manhood out of his open trousers and took him in her mouth.

Cullen jerked with pleasure and surprise. “Piper,” he started to say, but he broke off with a fitful groan: she was peeling his trousers down over his hips while continuing to suckle him. Her lips were firm and her mouth was deliciously warm, and – Maker, it felt incredible, but it was all so quick and his pleasure was already surging, and he wanted this to last… 

He brushed his knuckles over her cheekbone. “Wait,” he gasped. “Piper, wait…”

She immediately released him and looked up at him with wide eyes. “Is everything okay?”

“Yes,” he panted. “It’s more than all right. But I – I want to lie down. Will you–?”

She cut him off. “Lie down,” she said, and she patted his thigh. “Lie down and tell me what to do next.”

He exhaled shakily, then shoved his trousers off and climbed onto his neatly-made bed. He settled his back against the headboard, then patted the bed beside his hip. “Kneel here with me,” he said. 

She instantly followed his instruction, then rested her hands on her knees and looked at him. “Now what?” she said. 

Take me in your mouth, he thought. He opened his mouth to speak, then hesitated.

Piper tilted her head. “Now what, Commander?” she said, and she slid her knees apart slightly. 

Cullen swallowed hard. There was a telltale sheen of moisture on the very inner margins of her thighs. “Piper…” he begged.

“Just say it, Cullen,” she said softly. “I want you to say it.” She placed her palm on his knee, then slowly slid her hand up toward the apex of his thighs, and he couldn’t stop himself from panting as her hand slid along the inside of his thigh.

She cupped his balls, and he burst out a gasp. “Piper, take me in your mouth,” he blurted.

“Don’t mind if I do,” she purred, and she bent over his body and took him all the way into her throat. 

A pleasured groan escaped his lips, and he flexed slowly into her mouth. The tightness of her lips, the firm stroke of her tongue and the soft heat of her throat enclosing him and the tantalizing tease of her palm on his balls… Maker’s breath, she felt heavenly. With the silken heat of Piper’s mouth taking him deep and the exquisite sight of her naked body bending over him, Cullen couldn’t help but marvel at the fact that he had managed to do anything else today aside from staying in bed with her. 

He reached down and slid his fingers through her hair, pushing the silvery waves aside to better watch as her lush scarred lips moved up and down the length of his shaft. He breathed hard and stroked her nape, then ran his palm along the tattooed length of her back.

She arched her spine in response, and the suggestive curve of her spine further spurred the pleasure that was racing through his body. He continued to smooth his hand over her skin, savouring the softness of her tattooed back and the endearing contrast with her callused archer’s hands, and it wasn’t long before Piper was writhing and moaning into his manhood as she suckled him with increasing fervency. 

He ran his eager hand over her hip and down over her buttock, and she jolted and released his manhood. “Cullen,” she mewled. 

Her voice was strained and tense with need, and it was all the encouragement he required. He  patted her bottom. “Climb on top of me,” he breathed.

She nodded and obeyed him, bracing her palms on his abs as she straddled him. But before he could say anything else, she was sinking down onto his length.

He jolted and cried out, and the sound of his pleasure melded with Piper’s own enraptured cry. A second later, Piper was riding him hard and fast. 

Cullen grabbed her hips and forced her to stop. “Wait,” he panted. “Slow down. Touch yourself first.”

She whimpered and tried to roll her hips, but Cullen held her firmly in place. She finally released a heavy exhale and lightly smacked his belly. “You are being so fucking bossy, you know that?” she said breathlessly. 

She was smiling, however, and Cullen gave her a swift smile in return. “You have only yourself to blame,” he said. “I want you to come first. Touch yourself.”

She tsked. “Fine, fine,” she said, and she reached between her legs. 

Cullen dropped his eyes to her sex and watched as she rolled her fingers over the swollen little bud between her legs. He stared shamelessly at her slick and rosy flesh, then trailed his appreciative gaze up along the planes of her belly to her breasts, then finally back to her face. 

Her eyes were closed, and her lips were parted as she chased her own pleasure. Very slowly, Cullen pulled her hips closer to his. 

He ground his hips into hers in a careful circular pattern, and her lips parted further on a gasp. “Yes,” she breathed. 

Encouraged by her assent, he gripped her hips and pressed himself deeply into her slick tight heat while she caressed her clit. He watched raptly as her expression contorted from a relaxed sort of pleasure into a very tantalizing sort of tension, and at the moment that she gasped with pleasure, Cullen gripped her bottom in both hands and slammed himself in hard. 

“Fuck!” she cried. She shuddered and braced her free hand on his shoulder. “Oh fucking fuck, ah!” She trailed off into a wordless cry of pleasure: Cullen was thrusting his hips clear off of the bed in his eagerness to meet her. She let out another throaty cry and continued swirling her fingers between her legs, and Cullen kept slamming into her until her trembling had waned and she stopped touching herself. 

Then Piper grabbed his shoulders and began riding him hard and fast. Her nails bit into his skin, and he gasped with pain and pleasure both as he dug his fingers into the lush globes of her bottom. A moment later, Piper grabbed one of his hands and pressed it to her breast. 

He happily stroked her nipple with his thumb before firmly palming her breast, and Piper sobbed with pleasure and pressed his hand to her chest. Soon the bed was creaking with their efforts, and that wasn’t the only sound: she was whimpering and gasping with every smooth roll of her hips, and he was groaning with greater abandon as she rolled her exquisite body against his hips, and with every blissful thrust, the pleasure in his gut was growing and building and surging, growing greater and stronger with every impassioned thrust.  

Right at the moment that he was about to meet his rapture, he dug his fingers into her buttock and delivered one last command. “Piper, kiss me,” he gasped. 

She clasped his neck in her hands and sealed her lips over his, and his climax broke like a summer thunderstorm. Pleasure fanned out through his limbs like lightning, and he groaned uninhibitedly into her tongue. She continued to roll against him, and as he came down from the heights of his pleasure, her hands on his neck softened from an eager grip to a tender stroke. 

Her kiss gradually gentled and softened, and Cullen savoured the simple pleasure of her lips. Eventually she leaned away and treated him to a lazy smile, and he helplessly smiled in return. 

He reached up and tucked a wavy lock of damp silver hair behind her pointed ear. “This is why you came to the chapel, is it?” he teased. “To pull me away from my prayers?”

She shrugged and brushed a strand of hair away from his forehead. “I missed you, that’s all.”

He looked at her. She was smiling still, but her eyes were on his hair, and a pang of affection tugged at his heart. 

He brushed his knuckles over her cheek. “I missed you, too,” he said softly. “In some ways, it’s almost worse when you are here at Skyhold. Knowing you’re so near, but…” He trailed off, uncertain whether his sentiment was clear or whether it sounded selfish – or worse yet, if he was making it sound like he didn’t want her here. 

But Piper only shook her head. “I know what you mean,” she said. “So close but so far, right?”

“Exactly,” he murmured. 

Piper sighed, then rested her forehead to his, and for a moment they sat quietly in each other’s arms. Then Piper patted his cheek. “Now now, none of this moping,” she said cheerfully. “There’s no moping allowed, not when you’ve fucked me so thoroughly.”

He scoffed and rubbed the back of his neck. “That’s a compliment, I presume.”

“It absolutely is,” she said with relish. “You were perfectly bossy. Next time I’m watching you train your men, guess what I’ll be thinking about?”

“Maker’s breath,” he lamented. “I regret this already.”

Piper laughed and ran her hands through her wavy hair. “Don’t you dare, or I’ll have you do this again. And again and again until you have no regrets.”

He chidingly shook his head, but he couldn’t help but smile. Piper needn’t truly fear that he would have any regrets. With her beautiful nude body splayed across his lap and her bright bark of a laugh ringing in his ears, Cullen didn’t have any regrets at all.  

[the-sword-lesbian]

A Mother’s Love pt. 2: Once More, With Feelings

“Maddie honey if you don’t stop squirming I might accidentally poke you in the eye with this.”

“Sorry Mama.” “It’s fine, just try to hold still.” Victoria leaned in again carefully brushing the mascara wand across her daughter’s eyelashes. 

“I’m just like, super nervous about tonight. I can’t believe Devin asked me to prom.” Maddie sat as patiently as she could while her mother worked on her make-up. Nervously playing with the small, button-covered cube in her hands. 

Victoria stopped to put the wand back in its tube to refill it and move on to the other eyelash. “Why not? You’re a total catch. Plus you’ve been crushing on him for almost three months now, I’m surprised it took him this long to say something.”

Maddie let out a breathy laugh at that, trying not to move too much. “I’m just kind of freaking out about it. Ya know?” 

Victoria leaned back and put away the mascara before thumbing through her trays for a lipstick that will accent well with her daughter’s dress. “Because you’re a sixteen year old that got invited to prom? Your mother’s still really nervous about that by the way. I wasn’t entirely sure I was going to be able to convince her it was okay. So you should thank her for that.”

“Yeah I will.” she sighed. “And it's a little bit that. I’m just worried everyone will treat me like a kid or something.”

Her mother narrowed her eyes at her, “You ARE a kid.” she said before snickering to herself. “Besides, I doubt that boy could have done better. Do this with your lips.” She made a face as an example before reaching up to gently grab her daughter’s chin and brush the lipstick on.

Maddie waited a minute for it to dry before responding. “I just really want this to go well.” She smiled to herself. “I really like him.” She looked down nervously, “what if he doesn’t like me back?”

Victoria tilted Maddie’s chin up to look her in the eyes, those same green eyes. Giselle may have gotten the rest of Victoria’s genes but Maddie got her eyes. “Honey. You’re gorgeous, you’re trilingual, you’re the top of your class, you’re even working on a damn novel. You’d be any boy’s dream date. Hell, he’s more your arm candy than the other way around.”

She laughed at that, smiling at her mother before looking down, seemingly scared, looking so small. “But I mean… what if he doesn't want me because… I’m not a-” Victoria immediately straightened up and put her hands on her hips. “Madeline Annabelle Chase I swear to god if the next words out of your mouth are ‘a real girl’ I will ground you for a month.”

Maddie stared wide-eyed at her mother’s sudden outburst. Opening and closing her mouth a few times, unsure of what to say before looking down and mumbling “Sorry Mama.”

Her mother sighed heavily trying to let out the tension in her body. She leaned forward and put her hands on her daughter’s shoulders. “Maddie look at me.” She waited until their green eyes met before continuing. “You, and I. Are no less ‘real’ than your mother, than your sister, than your aunts. Okay? Just because someone else got it wrong on day one and we had to play catch up doesn’t mean we’re fake or pretending or anything like that. Okay? Devin is lucky to have you as his date. You are an amazing young woman. And if he has some dumbass hangup about something that isn’t his business then it’s his loss, not your fault, and you’re better off without him.” Victoria smiled at her before adding “Also if he says something stupid your sister will probably punch him in the face.”

Maddie cackled at that. Then suddenly lunged forward and wrapped her arms around Victoria’s neck hugging her tight. “Thanks Mama.” She said sniffling.

Victoria blinked her eyes trying to keep them dry as she reached up to hug Maddie back. “Hey now, no crying, your makeup will run.” Her daughter laughed into Victoria’s shoulder. “Mama I know for a fact all the makeup you buy and everything you just put on my face is waterproof. You’re just saying that because you know if I start crying you will too.”

Victoria laughed too, “You’ve got me there.” She leaned back looking at her daughter. Long blond hair done up in braids and plaits. Beautiful green eyes. A small but still radiant smile. Sharp as a tack with an incredible wit. She sniffled quietly. “You’re growing up too fast.”

“I’ll always be your little girl though.” She leaned back in to hug her again. “Love you Mama.”

“Love you too Maddie.”

The moment was broken by Kate shouting up the stairs that her date had arrived to pick her up and Victoria and Maddie made their way downstairs where Kate was chatting animatedly with Devin who looked rightfully(in Victoria’s opinion) awestruck at Maddie’s outfit. After he’d stuttered his way through telling her how beautiful she looked he gave her a corsage and both moms demanded a picture of the couple. Maddie hugged her mothers and assured them she’d be safe and back before twelve and yes she had her phone on her for emergencies. They then started heading towards the car but Victoria caught Devin’s sleeve before he could get too far.

“Just a second Devin” she said tugging him back and reaching for his tie. “Your tie is crooked.”

“Oh, thanks Mrs. Chase.” Victoria made a show of readjusting the knot before she pulled it just a tad too tight and tugged it so that he would look her in the eyes. “Okay.” she said in her iciest voice but quietly so that Maddie wouldn’t overhear her. “Now listen carefully. My daughter is an incredible girl and she means more to me than you can ever possibly imagine. She is one of the most beloved people on this planet in my eyes and that will never ever change. So I need you to understand in no uncertain terms that if anything untoward or, god forbid, unconsenting, happens to her at this dance, or as a result of this dance, I will use every legal resource within my power to make sure you are sent to a jail so deep you will never see the light of day again.” She paused for a moment to let all of that sink in before adding, “Have I made myself perfectly clear?”

He stared at Victoria for a moment before swallowing thickly and answering. “Yes, Mrs. Chase.”

“Good.” She let go of his tie and brushed some dust off his jacket before smiling at him. “Now you two go have a good time at prom.”

He stood there blinking for a second as if trying to determine if that moment had actually just happened or he had imagined it before Maddie called to him that they were going to be late. He hurried down the steps and opened her door for her before heading around to the driver’s side and getting in.

As they drove away Victoria felt Kate walk up beside her and link their arms together. Staring out at the receding tail lights she spoke up. “I don’t know if that was entirely necessary. But I understand why you needed to do it.”

“Yeah” She said, still staring out at the road.

Kate tugged on her arm trying to shake her out of her thoughts before heading back inside. “Come on Tori. I ordered Thai. We can watch movies til she gets back.”

Victoria continued to stand on the steps staring out for a little while longer. Long after the car had gone. Thinking about how grown up her daughters were getting. And maybe wishing, just a little, that she could turn back time, and they could be her little girls again.

[xxrainbow-princessxx]

Surprise - Leo x Isabella

Our star crossed lovers find themselves again feeling the pull of their relationship knowing that someone will end up broken-hearted soon enough. ❤️

@drakewalkerfantasy @loriwrites @lorirwritesfanfic @debramcg1106 @rainbowsinthestorm @romancehereicome @desireepow-1986 @liam-rhys

Liam, Leo, Drake and Maxwell filed into the Laurentian VIP spectator box that overlooked the Royal Racecourse. Their Cordonian guests were dressed in the best designer suits patiently waiting for the Crown Princess to open the event. Leo straightened his jacket as he sat down taking a sip from his champagne flute. The Cordonian Crown Prince looked as handsome as ever in his burgundy and black suit and black out aviators. The Laurentian women fauned over the sandy blonde haired male sighing as they caught a glimpse of his smouldering, enchanting grin but for once Leo wasn’t interested in the women around him as they giggled vying for his attention  - his eyes were fixated on the petite brunette who was currently being escorted onto the stage by her betrothed soon to be husband. Leo’s grin and carefree attitude immediately disappeared as he watched Max place his hand on Isabella’s waist. Leo hated that man with every part of his being and right know all he wanted to do was punch him in the face for putting a finger on her.

Leo’s knuckles turned white as his grip tightened around his glass, jaw clenching knowing there was not one thing he could do as he watched the spectacle below. Isabella turned up her nose as she felt Max touch her, cringing as she stepped away from him. The Crown Princess’ long, dark tresses cascaded down her chest, flicking down her back as she looked over her shoulder towards Max. Away from public view, Isabella’s almond shaped eyes narrowed as she seethed, “Don’t ever touch me again...” to the man she was duty bound to marry, “...or I’ll have Javier cut your hand off!” The was nothing more repulsive to the Princess than someone making her feel like she was property. As Isabella turned on her Jimmy Choo heel, the petite brunette smiled warmly, waving out towards those in the crowd. As she looked forward, Isabella’s eyes locked onto the Cordonian Crown Prince, subtly winking at him before addressing those in attendance, “Buenas tardes amigos y familiares. Por favor disfruta las festividades de hoy...”

The Crown Princess was stunningly beautiful dressed in a strapless black and white midi dress that emphasised her beautiful shape, contrasting against her olive, sun kissed skin. All eyes were on her, but Isabella’s only searched for Leo’s, no longer seeing him within the crowd. With today’s festivities now ongoing, Isabella could finally relax and allowed her to mingle with those in attendance and not have Max breathing down her neck. As the Crown Princess made her way back through to the Racecourse building she was escorted across to where her glamorous mother Gisele was seated. Unfortunately Isabella’s father was not well enough to attend this year but she was happily surprised as she began to coyly smile, “Hola Señor...” Isabella’s mother was blushing as she giggled, hanging on the every word of their visitor, “Having you around us is good for the soul...” tapping his arm.

Leo began to grin as Isabella sat down beside them, the mischievous Crown Prince leaning in to kiss both her cheeks before whispering into her ear, “Hello beautiful...” which brought a shiver down her spine. Isabella’s dazzling bright smile couldn’t be contained due to Leo’s brashness infiltrating the Royal box. It was definitely a power move on Leo’s part ensuring that Maximilian Rodríguez knew he had no reason to be there. Isabella and Leo were both completely enamoured with one another, giggling and flirting throughout the first Polo match. It wasn’t a secret within both Isabella and Leo’s inner sanctum that they both adored one another and Queen Gisele quietly supported the union - she had never saw her daughter or the Cordonian Crown Prince as happy as they were together, both of them miserable apart. Gisele knew deep down that both Isabella and Leo were made for one another, she knew from when they were kids it was destined to be; who was she to deny them love before their Royal lives were due to take over.

Gisele leaned against her daughter, “Mi querida...” she whispered, “You two go... I believe...” she smiled warmly towards Leo, “...This young man has a surprise for you...” Leo made his move first, Isabella five minutes later to make it look less suspicious before Leo escorted her to a waiting Bentley Continental that was parked in the underground of the building to ensure their privacy. “Age before beauty...” Leo smirked, bowing as he opened the door and gestured for her to get into the passenger side of the car. Clicking her seatbelt, Isabella looked slightly confused as Leo got behind the wheel, “Where are we going?” asked the Princess as she tucked a piece of hair behind her right ear. Isabella’s dark chocolate brown eyes widened as she questioned Leo, glittering in anticipation and excitement. Leo bit down on his lower lip, drinking in this picture. He felt like the luckiest man in the world as this exotic beauty looked into his eyes.

“Kitten...” he cooed, tilting her chin slightly upwards before kissing her exceptionally gently, “we have reservations...” Isabella raised her brow as he put his foot down onto the accelerator, the engine roared as they began to drive out of the facility. The tinted windows masked their presence as they drove through the traffic heading towards the South of the Kingdom both of them relishing the freedom they had, taking in the beautiful landscape around them. Isabella reached out, brushing her hand against Leo’s as it rested on the gear stick. It was bliss. Why couldn’t every day be like this? Leo began to brake slowly as they finally arrived at their destination, “I hope you like it...” Leo grinned as both of them exited the vehicle and he placed his hand on the small of her back escorting her towards the door. It looked like a normal house and Isabella was extremely confused.

“Your Royal Highnesses...” a familiar voice boomed, smiling towards them both as he bowed, “Carlo...” Isabella giggled, “It’s so good to see you!” The chef began to gesture towards a table that had been set up in a beautiful baroque styled room, darkened by the black out curtains to protect their privacy; the only light source in the room were the strategically placed candles that flickered making everything feel so romantic. Carlo was one of the few who knew of the pairs secret - Carlo being Queen Gisele’s personal chef. Leo pulled out her chair for her, pushing it in as Isabella sat down, “Mi amor...” she cooed, her thick accent rolling off of her tongue, “What a wonderful surprise...” Leo gently caressed the Princess’ cheek with the side of his hand, “Happy birthday Kitten...” Leo smiled, “I thought I’d surprise you a week early...” Isabella began to slightly blush but became distracted with each food course that arrived. It was the Princess’ twentieth birthday the following Wednesday; counting one more year to when she had to marry Max as stated in law.

She and Leo laughed, Leo stared at the Laurentian beauty, completely enchanted as they ate dessert, Isabella raised her brow slightly, “What are you staring at? Do I have chocolate?...” she began to look around herself as Leo chuckled “...Oh... sorry... it’s nothing!” Leo knew how lucky he was to have her in his life; she was so unassuming, so naturally beautiful she didn’t even realise how gorgeous she was. Leo checked his watch before heavily sighing, “We might need to head back...” Isabella pouted her crimson red lips knowing that Leo was right but to even have this time together, the Princess was grateful. Leo leaned in, cupping Isabella’s heart shaped face as he kissed her, savouring every second until he pulled away. “Bella...” he sighed as he reached into his suit jacket pocket removing a navy blue box before handing it to her. Isabella’s long dark eyes lashes fluttered, her perfectly manicured fingers opened the Harry Winston box, her mouth opening as Leo presented her with a pair of pear drop 15 carat diamond earrings.

Her doe like big bright eyes looked up at him as she began to shake her head, “Mi amor...” she begged, “... this is too much...” all of this, she gestured, “...was enough... thank you...” Leo slowly shook his head as he chuckled, “No beautiful... it’s the least I can do because I would give you the world if I could...” he started becoming lost as his eyes met hers, he could always pick out those golden flakes that glistened against the warming candlelight, “...And if things were different... that box wouldn’t have contained earrings...” Leo reached out holding onto Isabella’s hands,” I love you Isabella... more than life itself...” The petite brunette tried to blink away her tears as her bottom lip trembled, “I love you too...” kissing the Crown Prince passionately. Those around them could only feel their heartbreak as they parted. Leo tried to smile as Isabella reached for the box, placing the earrings in one by one fighting through her own pain, she smiled, “I’ll cherish them forever...”

The journey back was a little quieter, both were happy to cherish the moments they had as they returned to the Racecourse. Isabella returned to the Royal box and Leo to Liam, Drake and Maxwell. “The prodigal son arrives...” Liam began to laugh, “We were wondering if you had fled the country...” Leo shook his head, running his fingers through his sandy blonde hair, “No brother...” Leo began to chuckle, “...this place is like a maze...” Drake handed the Crown Prince a tumbler of whiskey, “You need to catch up before we need to catch our flight...” Maxwell slowly frowned, “Are you guys not staying for Bella’s birthday party?” Leo turned to Maxwell, his brow raised over his aviators intrigued, by this change in events “Party...?” Maxwell grinned widely, “It’s a surprise! When you were off doing god knows what... I spoke with Auntie Gisele and she told me to invite you all to stay at the Palace for the next few days...” Leo’s mood finally picked up, smiling like a Cheshire Cat, “I knew I always loved Gisele...” he laughed heartily, “Boys... we can’t refuse the invitation of a Queen now can we?” Liam rolled his eyes slowly exasperated at the thought of babysitting Leo for another few days, “Here we go again...”

[babygirlofwakanda]

Season’s Greeting

CHARACTERS — Giselle X Chris Hemsworth

CONTENT — Christmas Shenanigans and Surpises!

PLOT — A little somethin’ surrounding Christmas.

NARRATIVE — Christmas has always been an event for Giselle. Dating back to her excitement and starry eyed gaze at the string lights as a child in Texas, the brown beauty’s unconditional love for the holiday hasn’t strayed throughout the decades.

Sharing her passion with her husband, Chris quickly understood the importance to Giselle and has since aided in making this time of year special for her and now for their children.

A long way from the modern style home he once knew, the six-foot four man stood in between the living room and kitchen with his hands on his hips and admired the festive changes. With an array of red, white and gold accented decor spread through the house Chris took everything in. Starting from the train track underneath the eight-foot tree, red throw pillows and holiday figurines on the tables to the mistletoe he stashed above the doorways.

Stifling out a laugh at his wife’s attention to detail the Aussie shuffled over to the mirror in the hallway and flattened his palm over his black long-sleeve shirt before sighing while looking at his TAG Heuer.

“Giselle— sweetheart! The reservation is for eight and its almost six forty-five, we gotta hit the road!”

“—I know Chris, I’m coming! Uh, just gimme like five more minutes.” He heard her promise, making Chris exhale only for him to inhale the scented pine cones dipped in various oils scattered around his house.

Whispering, “What the hell is she doing up there..” under his breath, Chris waltzed into the kitchen.

Reaching down the actor stole a couple of gumdrop from his children’s gingerbread houses, propped up against the countertop before popping a few into his mouth. Grabbing another gumdrop from the rooftop of the gingerbread house, Chris allowed the smooth harmonies of The Temptations Silent Night playing from the speakers to distract him from the time.

Alone in the kitchen with a mouth full of candy Chris tried to hold the classic ‘silent night’ note only for his gruff voice to come out in the wrong pitch. “—damn babe!” He heard Giselle’s squeak out from behind.

Turning around as Giselle’s infectious laugh echoed through the kitchen, the Aussie strolled closer and continued his singing; keeping a smile on her face.

Inching his face closer towards Giselle, he cradled her face and started to lower his face only to pause mid-motion as he admired her undeniable beauty.

Meeting him halfway Giselle lifted her face to kiss him; immediately muffling his singing. Pulling back from the tender kiss Giselle felt Chris nudge his nose against hers in a way to subliminally ask for another kiss before she placed a hand against his black silk shirt and whispered, “Let’s go.” against his lips.

“Uh, okay,” Chris groaned, as he stood straight with a pout, “—but not before you spin around for me!” He hyped, quickly replacing his frown with a sly grin.

Sliding his palm into hers, Chris lifted their hands up and motioned for her to twirl around. Gluing his eyes to her body as Giselle pivoted in a circle, he watched the silk and denim pairing clutch onto every slope of her body. Leaving Chris blinking away the lust from his orbs before she turned to him; exhaling Chris licked over his lips before he ushered them out.

Oh, how date night was Chris’s fucking favorite night. With the children out with their grandparents; Alex and Janice who arrived last night, they were out doing some last minute shopping before taking the kids to see Frozen 2 for the umpteenth time.

The clinging of silverware, small chatter and the sizzling of the food carried on the trays of passing waiters filled Giselle’s ear. Glancing around the deck Giselle admired the string lights wrapped around the balcony and beams while the dark purple hue above painted the sky as the sunsetted above the ocean.

Enthralled in the scene, Giselle felt the wind softly blow through her hair while she breathed in the salty air before shifting around. Taking ahold of her straw, she stirred the strawberry lemonade conation and gripped the glass before bringing it to her lips.

Gulping down her drink in one take she heard her husband clear his throat before his voice followed, “Uh, is everything alright?” He questioned, making Giselle slowly sink in her chair. Did he figure her out?

“No, um— I’m fine. Why, wassup?” She rebutted.

“It’s just that um— everytime we come here you order the wine,” The Australian stuttered out, before he went to nervously rub the back of his neck.

“—and as of late, you’ve been chugging down the lemonade— but it’s not just that; it’s everything.”

“Like how lately you practically start gagging on queue whenever seafood is present— which may I remind you has been your favorite food since we’ve met. Or the constant running off the bathroom and now the lemonade! Baby, you only do that when,”

“—I have your basket of garlic bread right here, your food should be out shortly.” The waiter interrupted.

Directing her gaze from Chris’s anxious face to the smiling waiter, Giselle returned his grin while silently thanking the high heavens for stopping her husband from talking his way into ruining her surprise present.

The rest of the dinner flowed nicely. After forgetting the suggestive topic he was going to discuss, Chris and Giselle ate and giggled as they thought about how their family was going to react to their gifts.

Hitting a quiet mark as her husband sipped on his tequila, Giselle knew this was her opportunity to talk to Chris. Clearing her throat, “Now, I know that we’ve agreed that we weren’t gonna spoil eachother before Christmas but I got somethin’ for you honeybun.”

Reaching into her purse Giselle slipped out a brown flat, but wide box tied with a glittery red bow before she placed it on the table and slid it towards Chris.

With her acrylics still on the box, Giselle watched Chris’s thick digits touch the other end before she flicked her orbs up to look into his. “I couldn’t wait babe, I needed to have this moment with you and only you.” She detailed, before releasing the box.

In the box contained three positive pregnancy tests and underneath was a photoset of their unborn child.

With days of denying the possibility after her sick episode in Texas, Giselle couldn’t shake the feeling but once the symptoms started to slowly arise she abruptly sent her assistant to the store. Making out the two lines with ease Giselle kept her little secret and found out she was coming along nine weeks pregnant until this very moment; this second.

Instantly feeling a wave of vulnerability travel down her spine Giselle also felt the urge of premature tears threatening to unleash as one slipped from her eye while she watched her husband’s instant reaction.

Staring at her husband Giselle saw the corners of Chris’s mouth quickly lift as he picked up one of the tests and widened his smile over the digital two lines before he put it down and caressed his thumb over the developing baby in the ultrasound pictures.

Watching the moment Chris finally looked up, the brown beauty caught the extra gloss over his eyes before he blinked and allowed a tear to fall as well.

“Giselle! Oh my— this is fucking incredible baby!”

Thankful for the secluded area, Giselle beamed as Chris abruptly jumped up; making the chair screech in the process before he jogged over to embrace her.

Standing up, Giselle was immediately wrapped in Chris’s arms as he rocked her side to side. Pressing kisses all over her head he mumbled, “I fucking love you,” gripped her face and exchanged a tearful gaze with his wife before he smashed their lips together.

——————————

The Christmas spirit was unmatched in the Hemsworth household. With everyone clad in a holiday printed onesies and slippers, drinking from their customized mugs of hot chocolate and Giselle’s playlist that included everyone from Destiny’s Child, Wham! to Alexander O’Neal playing through the tv; the family piled into the living with full stomachs from the big breakfast before passing out gifts.

“GiGi! You did not!” Iris gasped, as she slowly pulled the dust bag out of the mustard-colored Fendi box.

Hearing her sister squeal once the neon pink bag from Nicki Minaj’s collab was in her possession, the oldest sister swore she saw Iris leap across the living room just to bring Chris and her into a bear hug while she beamed. Once Iris released them and returned to baby Mia attempting to put a red bow in her mouth, Giselle continued watching her kids unwrap their gifts before she looked over her shoulder to find Chris with a silver glitter box lying in his palms.

Closely watching her husband raise the top Giselle instantly caught Chris’s blue eyes light up while his jaw falter open making the quarter million she spent all worth it for her honeybun’s priceless smile. In the box contained the car keys to a 1965 Chevy Corvair Monza with a custom baby blue paint job, cream seating, silver detailing and a full tank of gas.

After hearing countless fond memories of her husband’s childhood singled around this vehicle, Giselle knew it was only a matter of time before she had to get Chris the car he constantly ranted about.

Heart-racing from excitement the Aussie quickly picked up the keys and pressed a button abruptly making the car ring out. Immediately looking at his wife with childlike joy, Chris struggled to his feet and ran to the front door which instantly made the rest of the family follow behind in peak curiosity. Running to the driveway Chris quickly faltered his steps once his eyes landed on the replica car his father, Craig drove around when Chris was nothing but a young lad.

Picking up his pace while he unlocked the car, Chris slid in the car with door propped opened and gawked over the smooth interior. Hearing the footsteps of his family scurrying down the pavement, the surprised man took his orbs off the vehicle and brought them to Giselle who grinned as she stared back at him.

—and before he knew it, Chris was stumbling out of the car and over to her like a lovesick puppy as the family patted his back and went to admire the car.

Roughly gripping her face the Aussie scooped down and kissed Giselle to transfer his appreciation before he leaned back and pulled her frame into his while he swayed her body with his eyes closed. “Whew, I love you so fucking much girl!” He grunted, before he squeezed her tighter with his last few words.

“I love you too, honeybun. I hope you liked your gift.”

Immediately cocking his head back, Chris quickly scrunched his face up, “Liked? Girl, I love this gift.” He corrected, making Giselle’s infectious laugh ring out. Biting his lips in effort to contain his smile Chris slid his tongue over his lips as he looked down at his wife, “C’mon, I still have gifts for you.” He winked, with a nod to the house before pulling her hand.

Returning back to the living room with the family slowing filing back inside, the brown beauty retook her place back on the floor while Chris searched for a specific gift and within a few moments, the wrapped present was placed infront of her crisscrossed legs.

Grinning up at her husband, Giselle dragged her chocolate orbs away from him and turned towards her gift before she pressed her acrylics through the striped wrapping paper. Uncovering the orange box, Giselle squealed as she ran a finger over the Hermès logo engraved on the lid. After lifting the top, pulling the tissue paper back to grab the dust bag, Giselle felt her smile reach her eyes once her hand made contact with the slick fabric before pulling it out.

“Oh, shit!” She rasped, with her wide-eyes glued to the exclusive Rose Scheherazade Porosus Crocodile Birkin bag. Ghosting a hand over the reptile skin, the overjoyed wife flicked her eyes to her blue eyed beau; who now sat beside her and beamed as he observed her reaction. Throwing her arms around his neck she started placing kissing all over his face, “Thank you! Thank you!” Giselle repeated, as her family awed.

After months of procrastinating to buy this bag only to avoid the store whenever she was on Rodeo Drive, Giselle never expected Chris to catch her off guard.

“Ew!” The couple heard their kids groan whenever their affection lingering for more than thirty seconds.

Pulling away with a laugh, Giselle grabbed her latest addition to her Birkins before squealing once more.

Wrapping paper slowly began to litter the floor and sitting on the floor watching, the Hollywood couple watched on still enamored by their personal gifts.

“—good lookin’ out on the shades guys!” Liam yelled, with a thumbs up as he waved his storage case full of aviators around. Smiling at her brother-in-law, Giselle watched as her children and nieces excitedly played with their new toys while her parents and in-laws gawked over their designer trinkets and bags.

Looking up at her husband who also looked around the living room, it wasn’t long before Chris caught her eyes and the Hollywood couple shared a look.

Knowing that they had an important announcement to share with their family, Giselle sprung to her feet and grabbed a wrapped box hidden behind the tree while Chris got everybody’s attention, “Hey, hey!”

“We have something we would like to share with everyone.” His thick accent ranged out, with a touch of nervousness and excitement inflected in his tone.

“Yes, we do.” Giselle hinted, as she placed the box on the coffee table infront of where her parents and in-laws sat. “—please, everyone gather around.”

Retreating back to where her husband stood, Giselle threw her left arm around his waist while he draped his arm over her shoulder and brought her closer.

“Go on and open it.” The actress gestured, making Mama Janice and Mama Leonie carefully open the box while Papa Alex and Papa Craig looked on.

Anxiously watching her parents and in-laws raise the lid to the box, Giselle nervously leaned into Chris and lifted her hands to her face only to spread them and peak between her fingers as their shrieks echoed.

In the box contained a ultrasound picture tapped to the lid with a black letter-board in the box that read, ‘Baby Hemsworth. Due in June 2020.’ and under the board included a beige teddy bear, a baby rattle and bottle, and a folded white bodysuit and mini socks.

“—ahh! I knew it, I knew it!” Mama Janice exclaimed, as she jumped up and down before walking towards her daughter with her arms out and a bright smile.

Breaking away from her husband, Giselle was instantly immersed in the warmth of her mother’s arms. With tears of joys slipping from her chocolate orbs, the emotional beauty smiled and wiped at her tears before she was embraced by a tearful Leonie.

“Congratulations, sweetheart!” Her mother-in-law whispered, before pressing a chaste kiss to Giselle’s head and pulling away. Gushing from all the love, the actress caught her husband dapping up Quinton and Liam as they also gave their ‘congrats’ before teasing Chris on baby number four. Smiling at their moment Giselle’s eyes were quickly taken off them as small arms wrapped themselves around her abdomen.

Looking down she spotted her twins hugging her growing belly, “I love you mommy!”, “I can’t wait for the baby to come out!” Her girls squealed, before she hugged her twins and kissed their heads. As the girls skipped away to go play with their new iPads. Giselle went to go take a seat when the soft pulling of her onesie immediately caught her attention.

Dragging her eyes down Giselle instantly saw her babyboy’s ever-changing green eyes peering up at her while a frown graced his face. Twisting her own lips around the momma-bear cupped her three year olds chin before she asked what was wrong. “I don’t wanna share you.” He pouted, “C’mon Julian, your sisters had to share their time with me when you came along and now you have to do the same.”

“It doesn’t mean that mommy or daddy loves you any less, you hear me? We love you, and besides,”

Crouching down almost eyelevel to Julian, Giselle spoke to her youngest child, “—this means that you get to be a big brother Jules!” She hyped, as a smile replaced his confusion. Taking him into her arms, she cradled Julian’s body in her lap until her back leaned up against the couch, “When the baby gets older you can show them all your toys, play hide and go seek, read them stories just like your sisters do you and,”

“—and I can share my floaties when w-we go in the big ocean with daddy and my uncles!”, “—and you can share your floaties!” Giselle repeated, with a headnod while gushing at her son’s words.

Once the family calmed down from the news of a new addition, the couple sat on the floor as Chris shared his own excitement with his loved ones.

“Y’know despite all the gifts we’ve received today, my greatest gift is just being able to have y’all here and sharing the good news.” Chris smiled, while he caressed Giselle’s belly as she sat between his bent legs on the floor. “Every year you all either fly these long hours just to come to Australia or drive all the way down here to celebrate Christmas together.”

“—and we truly appreciate that.” Chris admitted, as he interlocked his fingers with Giselle as she turned back to smile at him. “We love everyone of you and we just want to wish y’all a Merry Christmas.”

Hearing the family echo back his words, Giselle gushed and leaned back into her husband’s warm arms as he continued to massage her little pudge.

They couldn’t wait for their bundle of joy arrival.

AUTHOR’S NOTE — I hope everyone had a great Christmas! Let’s get this new year poppin’!

TAGLIST — @wakandas-vibranium @oceanscorazon @melaninmarvel @wakandamama @storibambino @shortstacks-blog @chaneajoyyy @klaylakayblack @ashanti-notthesinger @iamrheaspeaks @destinio1 @theunsweetenedtruth @wakanda-inspired @s0eul

[verfound]

WIP Wednesday: 1/1/20 (MLB)

I wasn’t gonna post a WIPW today, because the fic I would be posting from is gonna be here soon enough, but then 2019 wrapped up with some anonymous hate from Adrienette shippers on the Pit, and what the hell.  (Anyone else get really annoyed by anonymous hate?  Like there’s something about a hate-filled Anonymous review that just makes my Irish flare up with a “SAY THAT TO MY FACE YA LIMP NOODLE!”  Anyway.  We’re gonna ship who we ship.  I’d just appreciate if you’re bringing Ship Hate into my fics at least read the fics instead of just blasting me because I happen to think Luka is Best Boi.  🙃)

Which is all to say here, fellow Lukanette Dumpster Dwellers, have some fluff from the pending Valentine’s Groundhog Fic, because nothing makes me want to put more Lukanette out there than five-year-olds telling me I shouldn’t.  (Why yes, pettiness is an excellent motivator, thank you. 😁)

Pffft y’know what?  Screw it.  Have a third of the first chapter, apparently.  This dumpster is my home now.

The next morning, Marinette awoke feeling confident.  Birds were singing outside her window.  She could hear cheery voices from the street below, smell the scent of fresh bread and candy apples wafting up from the bakery below, feel the warmth of the sun as it shone its welcoming light into her room.  Everything felt like a Disney movie come to life – like she was Giselle waking up for the first time in New York, terrified out of her mind but ready to take on the day with her plucky, can-do attitude (she even had a box full of kwami friends to help her along, she thought with a giggle).  She felt refreshed, determined, ready to take on the world…ready to confess to her crush on Valentine’s Day.  It was going to be a good day.  It was going to be a successful day.

By the end of today, she was going to be Luka Couffaine’s girlfriend!

…or at the least his Valentine, and that would be good enough for today.  They could tackle the girlfriend part tomorrow.

She sang along with her radio as she dressed, ignoring her giggling kwami when Jagged’s new single came on and she tossed her pencil case aside to shred an imaginary guitar.  With the perfect Valentine’s outfit on, her bag packed, and Luka’s present carefully tucked away with Tikki in her purse where it would be safe, she made her way downstairs.  Her mother handed her the box of macarons she had baked the night before, and her father kissed her cheek as he handed her two candy apples and wished her a good day.  When she inquired after the two apples, he looked past her to the door, smiled, and again told her to have a good day.

She didn’t have to wonder long as she stepped outside and the box of macarons was immediately lifted from her arms. She turned away from her parents’ knowing grins to find Luka smiling at her.

“You mentioned you were bringing these today,” he said in lieu of a greeting, “so I thought maybe you’d like a ride?”

His bike was parked on the street behind them.  She felt her face warm as she looked back at him and nodded.

“That would be great, actually. Thank you,” she said as she followed him over to the bike.  When the box was secure on the back, she held up the extra apple.  “I’m assuming Papa gave me this for you.”

“And here I was hoping you’d made me something special,” he teased, reaching for the apple.  Her breath hitched and her fingers tightened on the stick, and he frowned when she didn’t release the apple.  “Marinette?  Are you ok?”

“Y-yeah!  Fine I’m!  I’m fine!” she yelped, yanking her hand back as if he’d burned her.  She laughed nervously, rubbing the back of her neck as she looked at the street.  “W-why would you think that?  I mean I made something for everyone – macarons, remember?  Just not you. Not just you!”

He chuckled, and she groaned as she glanced up at him.  He was already on the bike, the candy apple in the basket.  He patted the seat behind him.

“We should probably get going if we’re gonna make it on time,” he said.

“Right,” she said, putting her own apple in her bag before she climbed on behind him.

“Hold on tight,” he said.  She rolled her eyes and wrapped her arms around his middle, but he chuckled and looked back at her.  “You can hold me tighter, you know.”

She met his grin with one of her own and leaned against him, tightening her grip as she rested her cheek on his shoulder.

“Like this?” she asked, peeking up at him from under her lashes.  His chuckle cut off abruptly, and he coughed as he looked back to the street.  The next thing she knew, he was pedaling towards the school.  She couldn’t get a great look at his face from behind, but she thought he was smiling. “Sooo…did you end up making any plans?”

“Sorry?” he asked.  He kept his eyes on the road in front of them, and she closed her eyes as she rested her head against his back.

“Valentine’s Day?  You said yesterday you might make some plans,” she said. She felt them stop, and when she looked up she saw he had stopped at a corner and was looking back at her.

“…not yet,” he said after a moment. He looked like he wanted to say more, but he didn’t.  She pulled her lower lip between her teeth and took a steadying breath.

“It’s just that I was thinking…you know, if you don’t have any plans, and I don’t have any plans, and we’re both plan-less…” she trailed off, wincing as she realized she was rambling.  She took another breath and sat up straighter. He stayed on the corner, waiting for her to say whatever it was she was trying to say.  “That is…maybe we could make plans…together?”

“I wouldn’t be opposed to that,” he said.  He smiled softly at her before looking back to the road.  He crossed when it was clear, and she leaned back against him as he continued to pedal.  “What did you have in mind?”

“Nothing big,” she said.  “Maybe coffee?  After school?”

He nodded, but he didn’t exactly say he’d like to go.  When he stopped outside the school, she bumped her nose against his shoulder.

“So?” she pressed.  “What do you think?”

“I think I’d like to get some coffee after school,” he said once she’d hopped off and was standing in front of him. He turned to unlatch the box of macarons, missing the wide-eyed stare she gave him.  When he turned back to her, he was still smiling.  He leaned in over the box of macarons and winked at her. “Actually, I’d like to get coffee now, but school’s going to start soon and I’ve already had a cup this morning.  I’ve got Theory first thing, and Belcourt will kill me if I drink that much caffeine before class.”

“Well, we can’t have that, can we?” she giggled.  He was still smiling, but there was a definite blush on his face – and he still hadn’t leaned back yet.  She darted forward and pressed her lips against his cheek in a quick kiss before she could second-guess herself.  “Thanks for the lift, Luka.”

“Anytime, Marinette,” he said. His blush was definitely darker. She held the box of macarons up for him.

“Go on, take one,” she said. “You’ll need all the energy you can get to survive Theory.”

He chuckled and snatched up an off-white macaron.  It was one of the toasted marshmallow ones she had made just for him – they were his favorite, after all.  She smiled when he bit into it.

“Candy apples and a macaron before lunch?  I’m starting to feel spoiled,” he said.  They both jumped when an arm landed heavily on his shoulders, and Marinette quickly closed the box as Dingo reached around for a macaron.

“That’s because you’re her favorite – oi!” he whined when she wouldn’t let him get a macaron.  “See?  She won’t give me one!”

 “Because you didn’t give me a ride to school,” she said, sticking her tongue out at him.  He propped his sunglasses on his head, nestling them behind the first spike of his lime green mohawk.  He leaned in and winked at her.

“No, chérie, it’s because he’s your fav-ouch!” he whined, leaning back as another hand slapped him.  He rubbed his cheek and looked up at Brielle, who had walked up with Rose and Juleka. “Bri!”

“Don’t make me regret agreeing to go out with you tonight,” she said with a glare.  Her expression immediately brightened when she turned to Marinette. “Those for us?”

“For lunch, yes,” she said.  She shot a pointed look at Dingo.  “Luka only got one early because he gave me a ride.”

“So that’s where you disappeared to,” Juleka muttered.  “Figures.”

Marinette and Luka both shot her a look, which she pointedly ignored.

“Anyway,” Luka said, grabbing his backpack from the basket of his bike before any more fighting could break out. He slipped it on and looked back at Marinette.  “I might not make lunch today, but I will take you up on that coffee, if the offer’s still good?”

They both ignored the gasping, squealing sound that came from Rose.

“D-definitely, I’d love you!” Marinette said.  She realized what she’d said a second too late, her eyes widening in horror as her face started to burn.  Dingo and Juleka started snickering as Rose squealed again, but Luka was just watching her with a startled – pleased?  Did he really look pleased? – expression, the lock for his bike hanging forgotten in his hands.  She gulped and shook her head, fighting the spazz that would have sent the macarons flying. “TO!  I’d love – I’d love to get coffee with – oh, hey, bell!  C’mon, Rose, class!  See you later bye!”

“W-wait!  Marinette that was so good!” Rose squealed as Marinette grabbed her arm and drug her into the building.  Juleka glanced back at Luka as the warning bell continued to ring, a smirk on her face.

“She loves you,” she said, a wicked glint in her eye.  He still hadn’t moved, his wide eyes locked on where Marinette had disappeared into the building.  Dingo snickered and laid his arm across his shoulders again.  Juleka rolled her eyes and grabbed the lock, chaining up his bike before she ran after Marinette and Rose.

“C’mon, Romeo,” Dingo laughed as he steered him towards the school.  “The last thing you want is to be late to Belcourt’s on a Friday.”

“I think we lost him,” Brielle mused, waving a hand in front of Luka’s glazed eyes.

“Oh, we lost him the minute he landed eyes on her,” Dingo said, shaking Luka slightly with the arm on his shoulders. “This boy’s been hopeless for months now.”

“I’m going to kill you both,” Luka said, though he was grinning like an idiot when he said it, “and bury you in the park, and take Marinette on a picnic date over your grave.”

“Dark,” Brielle said, smirking. “I like it.”

“She said she loves me,” he said, his voice as dazed as the look on his face, and his friends laughed as Dingo pushed him towards the door to their Theory class.  He pecked a kiss against Brielle’s cheek, making her roll her eyes. She didn’t reach up to brush the kiss off, though, and he considered that progress.

“See you in history,” he said. Belcourt was already shouting for them to get inside, and he sighed as he followed Luka into class.  Theory was going to be more fun than usual if Luka didn’t snap out of it.

…he couldn’t wait.

[youngbloodseavey]

to the heavens and back // corbyn besson

requested: no, but this is based off a scene from the tv show “this is us”

this is by far, the longest and saddest imagine i have ever written. it’s 3313 words of pure fucking sadness. please don’t hate me i’m sorry corbyn okay bYE

pairing: corbyn x female!reader

triggers: house fires, hospitals, death.

||

“mom, dad!” giselle stumbled into corbyn and y/n’s bedroom, coughing violently as she shook her parents awake.

“what is it,” corbyn mumbled groggily, sitting up as he wiped the sleep out of his eyes.

“the house is on fire.” giselle cried, sending a jolt down y/n and corbyn’s backs. and that’s when they began to smell it.

smoke. thick, grey, firey smoke. the nauseating scent of it entered their lungs at an instant, and corbyn and y/n leaped out of bed.

“y/n! stay here with ellie, i’m going to get justin and alex. wet some towels and hold them over your faces, it’ll help keep the smoke out of your system.” corbyn called to his wife and daughter, who nodded and immediately ran to the bathroom to retrieve the materials corbyn asked for.

corbyn took in a deep breath, before throwing the door open, immediately being hit with a wave of thick smoke. corbyn let out a cough, waving the smoke away from his face before closing the door behind him and beginning to run towards justin, his oldest son’s room.

he sprinted across the hall, passing the balcony that overlooked the entrance to their gorgeous california home, that corbyn and y/n were able to purchase after years of hard work on both their parts. all their hard work, going up in red-hot flames.

corbyn spared a quick glance over the balcony, seeing that most of the first floor had gone up in flames, and the fire was steadily creeping up the stairs. corbyn let out a violent cough once again, trying to rid his system of the toxicity that was entering it, before barging into justin’s room.

the fifteen-year old was still asleep, which was no surprise. he took after his father in the “need to sleep 24/7″ department.

“justin! get up right now!” corbyn yelled at his son, shaking his lanky body to rouse the boy out of bed.

“what’s going on, is it time for school yet?” justin mumbled groggily, the intensity of the situation him and his family was in clearly not registering in his mind.

“the house is on fire. now get your damn ass up.” corbyn growled, throwing the covers off of justin’s body. 

justin’s bright blue eyes widened, and he immediately leaped out of bed.

“what? the house is on fire?” justin’s eyes were wild, and he stared at his dad with pleading eyes.

“yes it is. hurry up, so i can get your brother too,” corbyn ushered justin to the door, feeling the heat radiate from the other side. corbyn softly cursed under his breath.

he grabbed justin by the shoulders, feeling his son begin to shake and his breathing quicken.

“take a deep breath j, and it’ll all be okay.” corbyn reassured his clearly anxious kin, before slamming the door open, seeing that the hallway to the master bedroom had still not yet been consumed by the flames.

corbyn and justin sprinted across the hall, flinging the door open to the master bedroom where y/n and giselle were waiting. y/n immediately took justin in her arms, hugging and kissing his forehead and rambling on questions as to his condition.

“i’m going to get alex. the moment i close this door, stuff some wet towels beneath the door. got it?” corbyn breathed out, y/n reaching out and handing corbyn a towel to put over his own face.

“be careful babe, i better be seeing both you and alex back here in the next five minutes okay?” y/n spoke, terror in her eyes. corbyn pressed a swift kiss to her forehead and nodded, before using one hand to press the wet towel up to his face and the other to slam open the door.

the dark orange flames had caught to the main hallway of the second floor, slowly beginning to burn away at the carpet and banister. corbyn began to run to where alex’s room was, knowing that there wasn’t much more time to be able to get his whole family out alive.

corbyn slammed the door open, seeing that his twelve year-old son was already awake and pacing the floors, tears streaming down his face. alex ran to his father the moment he saw him, flinging his arms around him and beginning to sob.

“shh, it’s gonna be okay. put this towel over your mouth, and hold onto me. you’re gonna be okay. the moment i open this door, we are going to go as quickly as we can to mom and i’s bedroom, okay?” corbyn pressed a light kiss onto his son’s forehead, handing him the damp towel and taking in a breath of clean oxygen before whipping the door open. he stumbled back, seeing the flames licking at the frame of the door on one side, leaving only a strip of space untouched by fire.

corbyn’s arm went immediately to push alex away from the impending flames, his ocean eyes looking about wildly for something to protect them from the fire.

his gaze landed on the twin mattress that laid upon alex’s bed, and he immediately threw the covers and pillows off the mattress, heaving the mattress up as a type of shield.

“alright alex, no matter what, do not let go of me. okay?” corbyn spoke to his quivering son, who nodded and latched his arms around corbyn’s waist while still holding the towel to his mouth. corbyn took in a breath and started into the hall, holding up the mattress to shield himself and alex from the flames.

corbyn felt his flesh become singed as flames licked at his fingertips, the exposed parts of his arm becoming red and painful. alex’s grip on corbyn’s waist was as tight as the poor boy could hold, and he held in sobs and screams as he jumped away from the deadly flame.

“only a few more seconds alex, you’re gonna be okay.” the blonde man spoke through gritted teeth, pushing away the immense pain flowing through his veins to focus on saving his family.

after a few more agonizing seconds, corbyn flung open the door of the master bedroom to see the rest of the family huddled by the window, and he pushed alex towards his mother.

y/n immediately smothered alex with affection, checking him for burns and any type of injury. she pressed a firm kiss to her youngest son’s forehead before moving him along to his older brother, who took alex in his arms and held him tight.

y/n rushed up to her husband, taking his face in her hands and planting a hard kiss to his lips.

“never scare me like that ever again besson.” she warned, wiping some of the soot from his porcelain skin.

“i would never dream to.” corbyn kissed her again, before running over to the large window that was on the side of the wall and prying it open. “c’mon kids, y/n. climb onto the roof,” he ushered out his children one by one, and took y/n by the hand as he guided her onto the tiles of the roof.

it seemed as though luck as on the side of the besson family, for the moment they stepped foot onto the roof the door to the master bedroom blew in, the flames now beginning to overtake the room.

corbyn grabbed a sheet from the bed before joining his family on the roof, rolling the sheet up as tightly as he could in order to create a make-shift rope.

one by one, corbyn swiftly lowered each member of his family to the ground below, until he was the only one left standing on top of the roof.

corbyn stood on the roof for a moment, debating on whether or not to risk himself and run into the fire to save items of importance, or to go safely back down to the ground.

“princess! where’s princess?” he heard giselle yell from down below, referring to the fluffy, white pomeranian that y/n and himself had bought for giselle’s eighth birthday.

the moment the screams escape from his daughter’s mouth, the deed was sealed in corbyn’s mind. he took one glace at his terrified family before leaping back through the window into the firey house, before disappearing from sight as the smoke consumed his form.

“corbyn!”

“dad!”

“babe!”

the horrified screams of y/n and the kids filled the air, piercing like a knife in the cold night. sobs broke out from each member of the family as thoughts of the worst entered their minds, each of them clinging to each other for support.

y/n gathered all her children in her arms, tears running uncontrollably as she choked down sobs. she could hear the sound of sirens approaching her, but all she could focus on is the burning house that contained her husband.

she felt as if the world was crashing down upon her as all she could do is cling onto her children. staring, hoping, praying that her sweet corbyn will reappear from the flames.

she could see out of the corner of her eye the bright red firetrucks approaching, but she couldn’t seem to tear her eyes away from the horror.

she could feel the firemen pulling her back, away from the house. but she felt as if she was glued to the ground, not able to move even a single limb.

she could hear the screams and sobs of her children, but they were distant. her whole body felt numb.

let him be alive. let him be alive. let him be alive.

the words repeated themselves like a prayer, and minutes felt like hours as the distressed besson family waited to see if their beloved corbyn would appear.

it had been at least a minute since corbyn had disappeared into the flames, and the hope that had ignited itself inside the members of the family had begun to die out.

and just as the last bit of optimism had died in their hearts, the front door burst open. it seemed like the world had stopped turning as the charred wood revealed a dirty, sooty, coughing, but alive, corbyn besson.

“i got princess,” he managed to choke out between heaves, holding up previously white pomeranian, who was now black with soot. with him he also carried a sack, which was full of important documents, albums, and family photos.

“corbyn!” y/n burst out in sobs, breaking away from the grip of the firefighters to run to her husband. corbyn set down princess, who immediately ran to giselle.

y/n barreled into corbyn, taking him tightly in her arms as her tears made marks on his blackened clothing.

“never do that to us again you bastard,” she mumbled into his chest, before taking his face into her hands and planting a firm, passionate kiss on his lips.

“i love you,” he murmured, pulling away from their embrace.

“i love you too besson.” y/n replied softly, savoring the beauty of his presence, a presence she never thought she would be able to feel again.

“dad! daddy!” the voices of justin, alex, and giselle rang out as they ran to their father, each of them enveloping him in a bear hug.

“i love you guys,” he coughed out, trying to choke out some more words. but instead of words, only coughs and heaves left his mouth.

“give your father some space,” panic settled back into y/n’s heart, as corbyn fell onto his knees. “medic! we need a medic!” she screamed towards the fleet of first responders, and nearly immediately a stretcher came running towards them.

corbyn was nearly passed out, and he was on all fours desperately trying to breathe.

“what’s happening to daddy!?” giselle shrieked, trying to run to her father but was quickly held back by her two older brothers.

“shh, everything is going to be alright,” justin whispered into the ears of his younger sister, but inside he knew what he said wasn’t true. he knew something was wrong.

corbyn was quickly lifted onto a stretcher, the paramedics immediately put an oxygen mask onto his mouth before running him to a ambulance.

“kids, i’m going to go with your dad. stay here okay? these nice firefighters are going to take care of you,” y/n rushed over to her kids, her breath speeding up as panic settled into her heart. “i love you guys very much,” she managed to choke out, before running to the ambulance that corbyn was being loaded into and hopping in.

giselle, justin, and alex were left there, being guided into a police car by a nice woman in a firefighters uniform. justin gently picked his baby sister up, feeling her wet tears soak into his t-shirt.

no tears fell down the teenager’s face, but he felt the fear and despair in his heart. something was going to go wrong.

||

y/n had one hand on alex’s shoulder, the other wrapped around giselle’s small frame. justin stood directly next to her, stone faced and looking at the floor.

y/n didn’t know a human could produce as many tears as she could, it seemed like there was a never-ending stream of pain flowing through her body since the fire.

the piercing noise of a heart monitor, driving her to near insanity. the monotone “beep” of a flatline echoing through her brain, tearing her heart apart with each passing second. 

she never thought she would be clad in black, standing next to the polished wooden box that contained the body of her husband.

her sweet corbyn. the love of her life, the boy who stole here heart in a moment when she was merely 16. the boy who she exchanged tender vows with, the one who held her hand as she birthed their beautiful children into their lives.

the love who would live no more.

his lungs had failed him. the very same lungs that let him travel around the world with his four best friends. the lungs that touched the hearts of millions with corbyn’s angelic melodies. the lungs that saved lives, failing to save his.

his brain had lost oxygen. the same brain that mesmerized millions of adoring people for years. the brain that held a love for outer space, the brain that was smarter than he ever let on. the brain that could solve any problem thrown at it, not able to think anymore.

his heart no longer beat. the heart that pulsed with adrenaline as he raced around stage, feeling the energy of the crowd and hearing the lyrics that the band poured their hearts into being sung back. the heart that held so much love for music and his fans, always wanting to go out and play or meet fans no matter how exhausted he was. the heart that was filled with so much love and kindness, the heart that touched millions of lives with a mere smile. the heart that could no longer sing, no longer feel, no longer live.

who knew that the boy who seemed like he could live forever with his energy and mind, would die from cardiac arrest in his hospital bed.

“and now mrs. besson will be giving a speech.” the pastor gestured to y/n, who dried her tears and kissed the foreheads of her children before walking up to the podium.

her bloodshot eyes scanned the crowd, seeing the mass amounts of people whom her husband had changed the lives of. they had decided to have an open funeral, and whomever wished to attend could. fans from all over the world came to mourn the loss of the charismatic, goofy singer, and sea of people seemed to go on for miles.

it was incredible to see how many people a boy band member could touch with his music and heart.

“i met corbyn when we were sixteen, and the moment i saw him, i knew we would be together. i was never a believer in love at first sight, well, that was until i locked eyes with him before third period science. and who knew that a single moment of eye contact would bring me the best experiences of my life,” y/n laughed tearily, trying to compose herself as she felt her voice begin to break.

“corbyn was a blessing to this world. there’s no other way to put it. from his music, to his laugh, to his pure and gentle soul. he was practically perfect,” y/n felt to the tears begin to trail down her face, and she did nothing to stop them.

“but more than that, he was human. he had rough days, hard times. but that’s what made him so amazing.”

“there’s nothing that can fill the void that burns our hearts and souls. there’s no one and nothing that can replace his sunny smile and his goofy ways. my children-” y/n’s voice broke, and she nearly ran off stage when she made eye contact with her son.

justin gave her a reassuring nod, becoming teary himself as he tried so desperately to keep himself composed. with his father gone, it was his job to take care and look out for his family.

he had to be the “man of the house” now, the one who took over his father’s role. he couldn’t let his dad down, not when his family needed him the most.

justin tried to wipe away his tears, but gave up as they simply rolled down his face in streams. he put his arms around his younger siblings, squeezing their shoulders as the trio watched their mom onstage.

“corbyn gave me the most amazing things i could ever ask for, my children.” y/n continued, her heart swelling as she saw her children hug each other in the crow. “corbyn matthew besson blessed the world with his incredible mind, his angelic voice, and most of all, his compassionate heart.”

“he never failed to amaze, and will never cease to. i know that his memory will forever live on in the hearts of millions, and i hope it’s comforting to all to know that corbyn will never truly leave.”

“and while i would trade anything to have him standing here today, i know that he is where he is truly meant to be. among the angels.” y/n looked up into the clear blue sky, feeling the warmth of the sun shining on her skin.

she closed her eyes for a moment, relishing in the warmth that suddenly ran through her body. her eyes opened, being met with the sight of the gorgeous azure sky that mirrored the mesmerizing color of corbyn’s irises.

“i love you corbyn, to the heavens and back a thousand times,” she whispered to the sky, repeating the words that corbyn and herself exchanged frequently. it was their phrase of love, their “always” and their “okay”.

“thank you,” y/n spoke for a moment, not knowing how to end her heartfelt speech. she relished in the silence that followed, and slowly walked back to where justin, alex, and giselle stood.

the pastor took the microphone and began to say a closing prayer, and y/n took her children under her arms again. she choked back sobs, closing her eyes as she imagined corbyn’s warmth enveloping her as it used to.

she imagined his soft lips on her forehead, his arms wrapped around her shoulder, his chin balanced on top of her head.

maybe if she imagined hard enough, his touch would be real again. he would have never been torn from the universe as he so painfully was.

but she knew that wasn’t going to happen. and her sweet love was gone forever.

and it was such a painful reality to know.

[thequeenofcreole]

|《 A Dream of Fire: Chapter 3 - Ghost 》|

Darkness surrounds me in more ways than one. I can feel the depth of my solitude in my soul as I look around, desperate to see something - anything that can tell me where I am and where my children are. I reach my hands out, hoping to touch something solid to bear the weight I feel. But I feel nothing. Less than nothing. I don’t even feel my feet touching the ground. It’s almost like an empty solitude.

I have no purpose here. I could run until my feet bleed, but I don’t know which direction will get me out of here. I can scream in hopes of being saved or even summoning somebody - anybody that can explain where I am and if this is hell. But it would be futile. No one is here but me. Maybe this is hell.

I remember their faces. A baby boy and a baby girl. Beautiful and precious. Full of life. It’s something I would have died a thousand times for and the same thing I would die a thousand times to see again. With the thoughts of their beauty in my mind, I feel my chest becoming heavier. Tighter. Like it’s getting harder and harder to breathe. With a slew of different emotions running through my mind, I feel the heavy urge to fall to my knees. I can’t focus on them right now. They’re gone. They’ll get to live and grow up. They’ll get to meet their sister. They’ll get to live. So I do my best to bury them deep until I’m equip to deal with them again. I don’t know that I’ll ever be ready to fathom the thought of my children being lost to me forever.

How do I accept the fact that I will more than likely never see my newborn children? That I will never get to ease their sleepless nights or hug them close when all they need is their mother’s tenderness I will never get to see Kai ride her bike or play in our backyard. How can I accept that I’ve left so much on Lex’s shoulders? That I’ve, in a way, betrayed him. How do I survive this?

“Hello?”

My voice is involuntarily shaky, my body fighting against every urge I have to break into a sprint and run until I can find some remnants of reality. Whether it be the one I want or not. The longer I don’t see anyone, the angrier I get. I made a deal. I gave my soul which means someone should come collect.

Just as soon as the thought comes, a bright light shines and lights up the whole room. My hands instinctively move to cover my eyes as the light burns my eyes at how sudden it appears. When I’m able to gain control and push the pain aside, I open my eyes to see that the dark room I was once standing in is now a white room. What the hell is going on? Am I dead?

“No, dear.”

The deep, African accent surrounds me. I can’t see him but I already know who it is. Papa Legba. I look around warily, almost desperate for him to do with me what he wants. To rid myself of the pain of not knowing. Of never seeing Blue again. Of never loving @LeRoiDuVooDoo again. My eyes burn, but I refuse to let the tears fall. Not this time.

“I made ya deal. I’m yours. What ya want from me?” My voice is almost petulant and I know I have to be careful. I’m not dealing with an average spirit. Papa Legba is a loa that isn’t one to be fucked with in the least. So, as angry and sad and frustrated as I am, I have to tread carefully.

I hear his low laugh just at my ear and my body tenses, a slow shiver slowly creeping up my spine as black smoke surrounds me and I feel him softly push my curly hair off my shoulder. His breath tickles my ear as he leans in and I feel my jaw clench. I don’t know what I feel more. Anger or fear. He’s trying to tease me, but I won’t allow him to effect me on the outside. On the inside, though…. I’m screaming.

“Don’t be afraid, child.” He says, obviously sensing my fear. Then that means he feels my anger as well. “You’ve got me all wrong.”

I turn my head slightly as he slowly walks away from his position behind me, my jaw staying clenched as I see him for the first time in what feels like a year.

“I’m sorry our deal had to turn out that way. But she was right ‘bout you.”

My brows furrow and I know I look confused as hell as I try to piece together the puzzle he’s trying to put in front of me.

“Who is ‘she’?” Even I can tell that I sound testy as I ask. I’m not one to draw out bad endings. Especially when they concern me never seeing my family again. My chest tightens at the thought.

“Ya know, you should read contracts that you sign before you sign them, Miss Deréon.”

His proper French pronunciation of my name makes me catch my breath as I take in every word he says. I’m genuinely taken aback. My heart begins to pound in my chest as the anger I felt now dissolved into sheer fear. Panic, even. Have I done something wrong? Have I condemned my family? What the hell is going on? He holds up his hand and a cloud of black smoke brings the contract I signed with my blood from what seems like ions ago.

I look up at him to read his expression. He’s grinning and his eyes are locked on mine, but he won’t give away in his face whether it’s just me that’s condemned or if I’ve fucked all this up. I take it the contract with his nonverbal permission and read furiously over the script.

“Talia, first of her name, hereby declares 100 souls for the loa of the crossroads, Papa Legba. In exchange, Deréon Gisele Devereaux of the new blood Devereaux coven of the year two thousand and twenty will be delivered to one Talia Delphine LaBlanc. With both Talia and Deréon’s blood, this contract is sealed until Deréon’s purpose is fulfilled.”

What the fuck? I open my mouth to ask who Talia is and what purpose I have to fulfill. This doesn’t make even the slightest sense to me. He must sense my confusion because he starts laughing. Loudly. The kind of laugh that would send chills through someone who wasn’t as experienced with this Loa as I am. And being familiar with him isn’t a good thing.

“You shall see, Miss Deréon. You’ve got quite a road ahead of you.”

His laugh seems to echo through the space around us and with the clap of his hands, he’s gone. He’s gone and I’m…. still stuck here. As soon as the thought crosses my mind, I suddenly feel the space beneath me cave in and I begin to fall. My heart drops and I scream loudly, my arms reaching out for anything to hold onto. Then I hit the ground. Hard.

The ground is hard and cold beneath me and I groan loudly at a sharp pain I feel at my knee. I don’t think it’s broken, but I’m afraid that if I try to stand up, I will do more hard than good. My eyes immediately move quickly to survey my surroundings. I’m in what looks like an abandoned alley but I have no idea where I am. Not that I’m even surprised at this point. I try to find something familiar like a street sign or familiar sounds of jazz music that’s always playing in the quarter. But, instead, I hear muffled laughs from the street and the sound of a perpetual hum like there’s a bulb about to burst somewhere nearby. But that could also be a concussion talking.

I slowly move to stand up, careful not to put too much weight on my knee as I make my way toward the street. Just as I almost make it, I feel a sharp pain in my head and I immediately move my free hand that’s not pressed against the brick building next to me to my temple. Accompanying the pain is a loud, screeching sound that feels so loud that my eardrums threaten to rupture. It feels like someone is trying to crush my scull. Slowly and painfully.

I can barely take the pain as I fall to my knees, the pain I feel in my head far outweighing the pain I feel in my knee. Pressing both my palms to my head now, I try to scream, but I can’t. No sound leaves my lips as I strain to call for help to the street. My head is spinning and I can feel my body slowly start to give way to the pain as I slowly start to lose consciousness.

“She’s finally here.”

I hear a female voice say in almost a whisper. I can feel that whatever is trying to break my consciousness is magic. The tingling sensation I feel through my body gives that away even through the pain. I don’t know where I am or why I’m here, but I’m not giving up without a fight. I inhale deeply and clench my hands into fists, feeling the low hum of my power from deep inside of me gradually become a vibrating force with every second that I push back against the magic trying to thwart me. Whatever magic it is, it’s strong. The spell is weak but the power behind it is enough to begin to overcome me. This is not VooDoo. It’s earth magic.

I can feel the slow slither of the power of the spell creep along my spine in an attempt to combat my own defenses as I softly chant to myself.  My power is growing and the pain in my head becomes more and more of a dull pulsation than piercing pain. The spell cast upon me manifests itself as a snake and wraps itself around me in an attempt to subdue me further, but my defenses are just as strong, even in my weakened state, as the strongest witch chanting in the background. And I can hear about five or six of them chanting as they move to circle me.

“She’s too strong, Syn”

I can feel heat coming through my palms and radiating over my skin, my eyes glowing an orange and red tint in response to my power. I feel the buildup in my chest. The same power I felt before, but amplified, and I know these witches have no idea just how powerful anger and desperation can make a woman like me. Just as I prepare to exert the force of what feels like built up fire in my chest, something hits me from behind and I feel myself fall to the ground. My head is spinning now and just before I fall back into darkness, I hear a soft voice whisper:

“Oh She’s definitely the one.”

[andraste-preserve-us]

Happy Satinalia

Pairing: Cullen x Morgynn Trevelyan

Warnings: fluff, some angst involving Morgynn losing her arm, but only about a sentence or two.

A/N: Set post-Trespasser. I wanted to write something Christmassy. Thank you guys so much for following and reading my stuff and I hope you all have a great day and week, no matter what you celebrate.

Summary: Cullen is determined to make his and Morgynn’s first Satinalia as a married couple perfect. What he didn’t expect was for her to announce a life-changing surprise.

Cullen had agonized over this for weeks. It was his and Morgynn’s first Satinalia as a married couple. The ceremony had been four months before Satinalia, which was when he’d originally meant to propose. He had planned to take her to meet his family and propose to her by their home in South Reach. Mia’s home had a nice little forest behind it with a picturesque clearing. But he’d seen her playing with the mabari at the Winter Palace, looking at him like he was the sun, and the proposal had slipped from his mouth. She’d stared at him, slack-jawed, for several minutes as he sweated under his formal wear, before leaping into his arms and peppering his face with kisses. The ceremony had been just the two of them, along with Mother Giselle. While it hadn’t been exactly what he’d planned, it was still perfect.

Now he and his wife—his wife—were staying with Mia and his other siblings for two weeks. His sister had set them up in the spacious spare bedroom at the back corner of the house. All of his siblings had immediately loved Morgynn, just as he knew they would. He knew she was still getting used to living with only one arm, but other than that, she seemed to be enjoying herself immensely, cuddling up to him whenever they had a moment alone. He had caught Morgynn and Mia whispering in the kitchen several nights in a row, making him wonder if everything was all right. Morgynn assured him it was, but Cullen knew something was going on. It made him even more determined to make sure her Satinalia was perfect.

As soon as the sun shown through the curtains, Cullen was awake, gently shaking his wife’s shoulder. Morgynn grumbled in reply, burrowing further into the army of blankets and pillows. They really didn’t need this many, but Rosalie had insisted. He had caught her a few times after they’d arrived dumping even more pillows on the bed. “Wake up, love.” Cullen pressed a gentle kiss to Morgynn’s hair. The sunlight that slipped through the curtains made her hair shine a brilliant red as he ran his fingers through the locks.

“It’s Satinalia,” she protested, her voice raspy from sleep. “We’re supposed to sleep in.”

He chuckled. “I have a surprise for you.”

She slowly opened one eye to look at him and he couldn’t help but laugh. The image of the fearless inquisitor, hair sticking up at odd angles, peeking at him with one squinty eye, was hilarious. “What is it?”

“Get dressed and come to the clearing with me and you’ll find out.”

She sighed, but smiled and complied. They were the first ones up, much to Cullen’s relief. He had been afraid that Mia and Branson’s children would come jump on their beds wanting to open presents before he had a chance to sneak away with his wife. His nieces and nephews of course loved her and she was fantastic with them. Rosalie was a good deal younger than all of them and yet to have children, although she had hinted she was seeing someone without giving too many details.

Cullen reached for Morgynn’s hand as they made their way through the forest behind Mia’s house. His hand grabbed empty air where his wife’s left hand used to be and he saw her shoulders sink in the dim morning light. He wanted to slap himself; Satinalia had barely started and he was already mucking this up. He put his arm around her shoulders and pulled her close to him, kissing her hair.

After several more minutes of quiet—and Cullen remembering to grab the correct hand this time—Morgynn asked, “Where are we going?”

He shot a smile back at her. “Almost there, love.”

Morgynn paused once they reached the clearing. The tiny lake glittered in the rising sun and a blanket lay out on the grass with a basket on top. A tiny firepit that Cullen had dug the night before stood just next to the blanket to drive away the cold. His heart warmed as she beamed at him. He smiled in return before getting the fire going, sitting next to her and pulling her against his chest. They enjoyed a quiet breakfast, speaking of anything and everything, like they always did whenever they had the chance. He could talk to her for hours and never get bored.

Eventually, all the food was gone and Cullen knew his nieces and nephews would be waking. Mia hadn’t wanted to open presents without them, so he and Morgynn packed up their things and stomped the fire out. Snow had gently started to fall and Morgynn shuddered. Cullen shook the dirt off the blanket and wrapped it around his wife’s shoulders, leading her back to Mia’s with his arm around her shoulders.

Mia’s house was a flurry of excitement the moment Cullen and Morgynn stepped in the door. Everyone had been waiting on them and without even so much as a glance up, the children attacked their presents as soon as they crossed the threshold. They earned a scolding from their parents, but Cullen and Morgynn merely laughed and waved them off. After the ground had been littered with wrapping, the adults exchanged their own gifts. Cullen watched with baited breath as Morgynn opened the box that held an assortment of the type of tea she loved from Val Royoux, a few books she’d been wanting and a new set of daggers that had her initials engraved on the blade (her old daggers had become quiet dull over the past few years). Her smile was wide as she traced over the M.R. with her finger. “Thank you,” she breathed in his ear before giving him a quick kiss on the lips.

Cullen laughed at the low chorus of “Eeeeewwwww” from the children and answered just as quietly, “You’re welcome, love.”

“Now open yours.” She plopped a box and an envelope in his lap. “Open the box first.”

He raised a curious eyebrow, but set aside the envelope for the moment. He snorted as he tore open the lid. Several months ago, when Morgynn had asked him if he wanted anything for Satinalia, he’d jokingly replied, “A book about us by Varric.” Lo and behold, there lay a thin book with a badly drawn picture of Morgynn closing a rift and Cullen standing a few feet behind her with hearts for eyes and their mabari, Gregor, eating the bottom part of his mantle. The title read Dodge, Not Catch, the lesson he kept trying to teach Gregor without success. He flipped through the pages, scanning a few of the sentences before laying it off to the side, face-down.

“Is that you on the front?” Mia reached to grab the book, a wide smile on her face.

“No, you’re not getting that.” He held it far out of her reach, making sure the cover was still facing away from her. Morgynn laughed, twisting to reach to undoubtedly hand it to Mia. He feigned the best look of betrayal he could. “Stop that!”

She giggled and Mia fell back into her seat, disappointed. Morgynn pointed inside the box. “There’s more in there.”

Cullen chuckled, setting the book back on the couch next to him, safely tucked away from his wife and sister. Under a layer of protective paper, Cullen found what he at first thought was a coin. On closer inspection, he saw a lion engraved into the tiny circle of metal, the word “persevere” making a border. The opposite side held the same lion, but said “strength” instead. It was attached to a thin chain, just like the coin he had given to Morgynn all those years ago. Warmth bloomed in his chest as he smiled at his wife.

She blushed and looked away. “I thought we could match.” She pulled her own coin out from under her shirt for emphasis.

He merely kissed her in reply, letting his lips linger on hers despite the second chorus of disgusted noises from the children. “Thank you, darling. I love it.” He slipped it over his head, smiling at Morgynn and taking her hand in his. He rubbed his thumb over her knuckles. His chest felt it would burst, he was so happy. He hadn’t thought he would ever be this happy or even deserving of half the things Morgynn had given to him.

“Open your envelope,” she said, a hint of nervousness crossing her gaze.

“Oh!” He’d nearly forgotten, reluctantly letting go of her hand to tear it open. He unfolded the piece of paper inside, ignoring his siblings’ questions as he read his wife’s messy scrawl: You have another present coming, but it won’t be here for another nine months. He stared at the message for several more minutes, reading over and over again before turning to his wife with blurred vision.

“What’s wrong?” Mia asked, moving to get out of her chair. “Cullen—”

He held up a hand to stop her, eyes still on Morgynn. “Are you pregnant?”

She merely nodded and smiled.

He laughed, shooting up from his seat and lifting Morgynn with him. He picked her up and spun her around, burying his face in her hair as his siblings cried out their congratulations, the children too enraptured with their new toys to take notice.

He laughed breathlessly. “You’re pregnant.”

She nodded into his shoulder. “You’re going to be an amazing father.”

He pulled back to look at her, cupping her cheek in his hand. She reached up to wipe away the tears that he hadn’t even realized were falling down his cheeks. “Happy Satinalia, love.”

[robertphilip]

his face instantly lighting up the second he sees Giselle... him immediately reaching for/taking her hand,, I'm gonna be SICK

[emulateharry]

story of my life: Dunkirk Extra

“I’m going to miss you,” Kacey whispered against Harry’s chest as hd her close.

“I’m going to miss you, too but it’s not for long and I won’t be too far away. Maybe I can come home one weekend,” he replied, stroking her hair.

Harry felt Kacey shudder slightly and heard a soft sob.

“I feel like I just got you back and now I’m losing you again!” she wailed.

She was trying to be calm. She really didn’t want to make this harder than it already was but she couldn’t hold back the tears. Kacey had known he was scheduled to leave for Dunkerque to film the movie. She knew it was a tremendous opportunity for him and that he had worked hard to win the role. Harry was excited about the part and had been preparing for weeks. He had even cut his hair, capturing the whole thing on film, moving and still, for a documentary and a magazine layout. Kacey knew all that but it didn’t make it any easier for her to say goodbye to him.

Taking a deep breath, she swallowed hard and tried to compose herself. She looked up at Harry, staring at his face as if to memorize his features. He smiled at her and gently thumbed her tears away before bending to place a kiss on her trembling lips.

“I love you, Kassidy. I won’t be gone long, I promise,” he said. “I have to go now baby or I’ll miss the train.”

Kacey struggled to put on her brave face and force a small smile to her lips. She managed, but only just.

“I love you, Harry. Be safe and please let me know when you get there.”

“Always, baby.”

With a last soft kiss, he picked up his bag and headed out to the car where Andy was holding the door open for him. * Kacey headed straight to the small gym at the back of the house. She popped in her earbuds and turned on the treadmill, determined to ‘exercise’ her demons away. Her brain kept a running commentary over the sound of her One Direction playlist as she walked briskly.

‘You knew he had to leave. Why did you make it harder than it had to be?’

‘It’s a Christopher Nolan film for goodness sake, not an episode of some cheesy TV series.’

‘You’re supposed to be supportive. Get a grip!’

Her phone buzzed insistently, interrupting the mental diatribe. It was a text from Harry.

“Hey baby. I’m on the train. I love you.”

She smiled and sent a response. She could do this. She had plenty to keep her busy while he was gone. She had wanted to go with him but, while he didn’t say no, she knew he was worried that she might distract him. He was nervous, and she did not want to make it worse. It wasn’t even going to be that long but it was their first separation since the attack. Kacey wasn’t really afraid to be home alone, she just wanted to be with Harry. He was her happy place.

Finishing up her workout, she turned off the treadmill before heading to the kitchen for a bottle of water. Sipping slowly while looking out the window at the rare sunshine, she decided to sit outside for a bit at the table in the courtyard. Snagging her laptop from the desk in the sitting room, she headed out the doors.

Kacey sat on a chaise longue next to the fountain. The sun, warm on her face, invited her to nap and she closed her computer, placing it on the table.

* Harry was feeling good. The filming was going well and they had just completed some difficult scenes before breaking for a three-day weekend. He planned to do a lot of sleeping, relaxing and studying his lines over the next few days. He hadn’t spoken with Kacey the last several days. She had some week-long writer’s event in Scotland that she was attending. She had, apparently, agreed to be the guest speaker some months ago otherwise he would have asked her to come to France and visit him. He was disappointed but he understood; they both had obligations.

This evening he was having dinner with Aneurin, Fionn, Tom, and Ken Branagh at Ken’s invitation. They walked into Le Table de Cha’ to be greeted by the host and owner. Harry had eaten there several times since he had been in Dunkirk but this was the first chance he’d had to talk with Ken. They had no scenes together and only had time to exchange simple pleasantries as they passed each other on the set. Sir Kenneth was a legend and Harry was looking forward to this dinner.

The host showed them to a table in a small private room in the restaurant. He handed them the menus and went off to alert the waitress that they had arrived.

Harry was listening intently to a story that Ken was telling about working on Harry Potter when the waitress bustled in. She was a middle aged woman with dark brown hair pulled into a bun and a lively smile. In rough English she introduced herself as Amelie before explaining that she was training a new girl who would be taking their dinner orders, if they didn’t mind. All four replied that of course they didn’t and turned back to their conversation as she left.

Amelie returned to serve the bread and the first bottle of wine then quietly left the room. They had almost finished the first glass when the waitress returned with her trainee in tow. Amelie introduced her as Giselle and informed them that while the young woman spoke little English she would be happy to translate if necessary. Fionn, Aneurin, and Tom were looking at Giselle, entranced, while Harry and Ken were sitting with their backs to her. Harry was engrossed with his menu as she began to speak.

Harry was listening carefully to Giselle’s mellifluous voice and working to translate what she was saying as he continued to peruse the menu. He glanced up to see Fionn and Aneurin staring at her, mouths slightly agape. He was about to turn around to look when her words came from very close behind him. She was relating the evening’s dessert, a ‘chocolat religieuse avec ganache et crème’, which sounded positively seductive in her accent. Harry shifted in his seat. Giselle paused briefly before moving to describe the daily special.

Harry tensed when he felt her hand on his shoulder, his frown reflecting his dismay at the unwelcome touch.

“Le plat du jour, pour Monsieur Harry seulement,” she paused briefly before leaning close to him and finishing “is me.”

Fionn and Aneurin sat blinking in surprise as Ken smiled into his menu. Harry, resigned, turned to Giselle only to see Kacey’s smiling face.

“Surprise.”

He almost knocked his chair over in his haste to stand and pull her into his arms.

“What?? How are you here?” he croaked as he hugged her tightly.

Ken was smiling broadly and Amelie clapped her hands with glee watching the two.

“Took some planning and a lot of work with a dialect coach. Ken helped me maneuver you here.”

Harry looked from one to the other of them with a bemused expression. Suddenly remembering his manners, he introduced Kacey to Fionn, Tom and Aneurin. She greeted them then turned to hug Amelie before taking the seat next to Harry.

“How do you know each other?” Harry asked, looking from Kacey to Ken.

“I met him at the Terrier premiere. He and Chris worked on ‘Jack Ryan’ together,” Kacey explained.

“Yes, I was fortunate to meet your charming girlfriend. When she called me to set this up, I thought it was the least I could do,” Ken said, still smiling.

Amelie came back with a second bottle of wine and remained to take their orders as Harry poured Kacey a glass.

The dinner was wonderful and the conversation sparkling but Harry was anxious to get Kacey back to his room. After the coffee and dessert he began making excuses and 15 minutes later they were on their way to his room. Immediately upon closing the door behind them, Harry turned to her and kissed her deeply. Palms holding her cheeks, fingers entwined in her hair, he kissed her until they were both breathless.

“I’ve missed you so much,” Kacey whispered as she unfastened the few buttons on his shirt then moved to divest him of his trousers.

“I’ve missed you too, baby” he managed between kisses as he lifted her dress over her head, pleasantly surprised that she was naked underneath.

Kacey put her arms around his neck and jumped; Harry catching her as she wrapped her legs around him. Mouths joined, he walked over to the bed and lowered her gently to the mattress. Their first lovemaking did not last long, the three weeks separation left them primed and ready, but it was a relief to be able to touch one another again. They lay in the moonlight streaming in from the windows, skin to skin, talking and kissing and reconnecting until Kacey had to pee. Harry, teasing her for her ‘tiny bladder’, followed her to the bathroom and turned on the taps running a bath while she took care of business. He lit a couple of candles and tossed in a bath bomb before turning to hold Kacey’s hand as she climbed into the tub. The scent of jasmine and clary sage filled the small room wafting from the steaming water. Kacey sat down and leaned back against Harry as they snuggled in the delicate pink water. Gentle kisses and sweet caresses in the candlelight and Kacey felt like she was in a dream. Being with Harry was always like that, as if the lines between reality and fantasy blurred and they were somehow transported to a private cocoon where the world could not reach them. Kacey did her best to savor those moments and lock them away in her mind to take out and replay them when they were apart.

The water had cooled and their fingers and toes had begun to prune when they climbed out of the water. After drying off with the plush towels from the warmer, Harry took Kacey’s fingertips and led her back to the bed. She climbed into it, leaning back into the pillows as he reached to turn on the lamp on the bedside table. He wanted ample light to see the beauty of his girl and to see her face when her pleasure became too much for her. Gently pressing her knees apart, he slid his nose up the inside of her thighs until he reached the apex. Planting a soft kiss on her lower lips, he used his fingers to spread them and looked at her and sighed. “There’s my beautiful petal.” Kacey smiled down at him and stroked his hair with her fingertips. Harry wasted no more time and began to devour her with lips and tongue and teeth, the stubble on his chin providing a sensual scratching. He stopped only to lift Kacey’s thighs over his shoulders and scoot her hips down so that he could get to even more of her. Probing deeply with his tongue and running his nose over her clit he heard her gasp and call his name as the waves of pleasure washed over her. Harry licked her through it then crawled up her until he could line his cock up with her entrance. Sliding into her soft swollen walls that encased him snugly, he moaned at the feeling. Leaning down to kiss Kacey he began a slow rhythm using his entire length, her hips moving in time with his, ensuring that he reach her depths. Kacey was undulating beneath him and the noises she made spurred him to move faster. He was digging his fingers into the fleshy part of her hips lifting her up to meet him when he heard her whisper “Harder, please Harry. Harder.” Pausing for only a moment to lift her feet and place them on his shoulders, he obliged. Kacey groaned as he filled her again and again. Looking down to watch himself disappear inside her, hearing her mewls and groans sent him over the edge and he came with shout of her name. Kacey was right behind and he could feel the pulsing of her orgasm in time with his own. Once their breathing had returned to normal, they fell asleep wrapped in each other’s arms.

Harry awoke to the covers being pulled off of him, the cool air washing over him and making his skin pebble. He opened his eyes to see his beautifully naked girlfriend on her knees smiling down at him.

“What are you up to, minx?” he croaked at her.

Her wide smile gave him a hint as she proceeded to wake him in her favorite way; her lips and tongue and throat hitting all his pleasure spots as she coaxed an orgasm from him. Harry obliged and, arching his back, he felt the release and the pressure of Kacey’s tongue as she sucked him clean. Licking her lips to catch a droplet that had managed to escape her mouth, she smiled at him again as he pulled her down to kiss her.

“I love you, Kassidy.”

“As I love you, Harry.”

*

“Good morning!” Harry greeted as he and Kacey entered the reserved room in the restaurant. Fionn, Aneurin, and Tom were already seated and drinking tea.

The men at the table took note of Harry’s messy hair and the light flush of Kacey’s cheeks as they joined them for le petit dejeuner.

“I didn’t expect to see you two all weekend!” Fionn smirked at them. Kacey gave him a shrewd look as she sat in the chair Harry held for her. She waited for him to sit beside her before responding.

“Well, young Fionn, when one is running a marathon, one needs sustenance. Seven calories and a couple of grams of protein simply will not suffice,” she said daintily as she placed her napkin in her lap.

Fionn just gave her a blank look, the meaning of her words not registering immediately. Aneurin, after a beat, choked on his tea and Tom burst into laughter. When Kacey looked at Harry he was giving her a stern look.

“What?”

Harry raised his eyebrows and continued to look at her.

“He started it!”

Harry, still giving Kacey the look, inclined his head towards Fionn who had finally realized what she meant and was blushing profusely.

“Oh, for crying out loud. Fine.” Turning to Fionn, Kacey huffed out a breath and said, in a petulant voice, “Fionn, I’m sorry. That was inappropriate. Please don’t judge Harry for his girlfriend’s rudeness.” Turning back to Harry she said “Are you happy now?”

She glared at his smug expression for a moment before they both started laughing.

“What am I going to do with you?” he asked, smiling affectionately.

“I was hoping that you would keep me,” she replied, gazing at him through her lashes.

“Oh, I plan to,” he murmured as he leaned forward to kiss her.

* After breakfast, Harry asked Kacey if she wanted to see the set. She agreed excitedly and they went back to their room for credentials before setting off to the restricted area. On the way Harry talked about the history of the area and pointed out spots of interest. At the security gate, he greeted the guard by name and thanked him as he let them into the set.

Holding her hand, Harry led Kacey through the warren of trailers and and equipment to the beach. Walking out from the wharf onto the sand, the wind whipped up making Kacey shiver beneath her jumper. Harry pulled her closer, quietly telling her the story of the evacuation as written by Chris Nolan. They walked slowly, watching the waves churn before crashing onto the shore. Kacey stopped and looked at the recreated mole, imagining the men trapped on the pier. She stood holding tightly to Harry, trying to take it all in. She could feel the desperation and fear of the men trapped on the beach, the intense yearning to get home. Imagining Harry as one of them was overwhelming and she began to cry. Her own loneliness and longing for him feeding the emotions, she clung to him fiercely as she sobbed. Harry held her close and stroked her, murmuring soothingly until she regained her composure. They stood watching the sea until Kacey began to shiver.

Harry led her to the craft service in a section of one of the warehouses. While the actors had a three day break, there was none for the crew. Dozens of people were gathered at the tables eating and talking on their lunch break. Harry greeted each by name and introduced Kacey. A security guard in his mid-50s was seated at a table alone and Harry asked if he and Kacey could join him.

“I’d be delighted Harry-bo,” he replied with a grin.

Harry grimaced slightly and shook his head. He introduced the man as ‘John’ and held Kacey’s chair for her before walking over to the craft table to get some tea and a small snack.

Kacey turned to John and asked “Harry-bo?”

“Yes. It seems that your young man is partial to the gummy bears,” he explained with a laugh. “He went through so many bags of them that it was a natural nickname.”

Kacey was laughing as Harry returned and set down her tea. “You had to tell her, didn’t you?” Harry accused John.

“Aw now, it’s one of the things we love about you, Harry-bo. Makes you more like one of us and not some global superstar that no one can talk to,” John placated.

Smiling and shaking his head Harry responded, “I’m not some global super---”

“Denying it doesn’t make it untrue young man,” John interrupted. Turning to Kacey he added, “He is also quite partial to the oreos.”

“Why thanks for telling all my secrets, John,” Harry was smiling through a slight blush as Kacey held his hand.

They sat talking with John for a few more minutes before he had to get back to work. After cleaning up their mess, Harry led her on a tour of all the pertinent spots on the set. Seeing Kacey stifling a yawn, he started to head back to the hotel. Just as they reached the entrance, the clouds released the rain that they had been holding and they ran the last few feet into the building. Once in their room they snuggled down for a nap, the wind gusts sending the rain pelting against the windows, the sound lulling them to sleep.

* True to Fionn’s prediction, no one but room service saw them for the next two days. They spent the time attached to one another in every way they could think of. They were touching constantly and making the most of the time that kept racing away. Monday evening, Kacey was packing up her things, but it was difficult. Damn it. She did not want to be separated from him again. In the bathroom collecting her toiletries she gave herself a stern talking to in the mirror over the sink.

She was determined to leave gracefully so that he could remember her smiling and not all blotchy and teary and red. It took every ounce of strength she had, but she managed. She kissed him, held him and told him again that she loved him. Then she picked up her bag and breezed through the door and down the stairs and through the lobby into the waiting car. She didn’t cry until she was on the train. As they pulled out of the station Kacey promised herself that she wasn’t letting him go away without her again anytime soon.

[babygirlofwakanda]

A Time To Give Thanks | Chapter 2

PREVIOUS CHAPTER — Chapter One

CHARACTERS — Giselle X Chris Hemsworth

CONTENT — Thanksgiving Shenanigans, Family Ties, Soul Food, Tradition and Southern Hospitality

PLOT — The Hollywood couple and their children fly out to Giselle’s hometown for Thanksgiving this year.

NARRATIVE — The soul food filled the house; replacing the vanilla scent that once filled the house.

With silver trays of steaming collards green, sizzling turkey and corn brought by arriving family members the side dishes added to the lingering smell of food already in the house from the night before.

Downstairs checking on the glistening ham the barefaced beauty stepped back from the heated source before closing the oven. Taking her mittens off Giselle went onto stirring the mac & cheese but before she could, she was frantically waved over by her sister who stood by the drink table dumping a couple of ice cubes in the two dozen red cups.

Twisting her face up out of instinct the actress maneuvered through her aunties and uncles before she reached Iris, “What’chu want Iris? I’m busy girl.”

Cutting her chocolate eyes at her sister’s sly smirk and quirked eyebrow, “Hm, I know what your nasty ass doin’ last night.” She started, instantly making Giselle’s face scrunch up in confusion before she remembered why her vagina was aching today.

Instantly dropping her mouth as her eyes went wide, Giselle pinched her sister’s shoulder, “Iris! You need to keep your fuckin’ voice,” She said, as she looked around to see if anyone noticed her words, “—your voice down and stop ear hustlin’ on what does or doesn’t happen in my room.” Giselle sassed.

Jerking away from her oldest sister’s hold Iris rebutted, “Huh-uh don’t start that GiGi! You and Chris out’here makin’ all that damn noise at two in fuckin’ morning like my bedroom isn’t next door!”

Before either of them could even respond the siblings were interrupted by Chris strolling into the kitchen with two more bags of ice and Niel following behind with a few more boxes of cups. Squinting her eyes at her sister, Giselle greeted them, “—hey y’all!”

“Wassup G and Iris,” Niel smiled, “Hello.” The Aussie greeted, with a headnod at Iris and a wink at his wife.

“I see dad got y’all working today.” Iris chuckled, making the men sigh and stifled out a laugh. “You just don’t know big head,” Niel let out an exhausted laugh, before he wiped his forehead, “—but imma be right back. I’m gonna go check on Elianna.” He said, before side hugging his sisters and dapping up Chris.

“So, what time did my dad wake you up?” Giselle questioned, as she shifted towards her husband.

“Around eight-ish.”, “Aw, thats too bad. I had some plans for us to do before we got started with our day, but I guess that’ll have to wait for later.” The actress promised, making her brow quirk while her tone of voice softened; lingering in his ear and sadly, Iris’s.

Kissing her teeth, “Uh, do I need to leave the kitchen or what?” Iris questioned, with borderline annoyance inflected in her voice making the couple pull away.

After stepping back, Giselle sighed with a hand on her forehead while her husband excused himself and exited the kitchen leaving the annoyed Brown sisters.

Squinting her eyes at her Iris, Giselle scoffed and folded her arms. “Oo! Yall lovebirds make me sick!”

“Y’all were lucky mama and daddy’s room was down the hallway otherwise y’all two would be ass out in the street.” Iris cackled, with her head tossed back before she returned back to filling the cups.

With her eyebrow quirked Giselle instantly spat out her rebuttal, “Oh Iris, honey you don’t want to start with me, but since we airing shit out riddle me this.”

“Why exactly did you ask daddy for those batteries today hm? Lying and saying it was for your remote— when we both know it’s for a certain remote alright.”

Folding her arms as her hip poked out, Giselle hummed out as Iris failed to respond leaving her stumbling over her words. “That’s what I thought.”

“So, you what was that bout’ me and Chris again?”

——————————

“—you made me happy, this you can bet. You stood right beside me— yeah and I’ll never forget..”

Synchronized dancing and collective singing ranged out of the kitchen and echoed through the rest of the house as Frankie Beverly and Maze’s Before I Let Go played from the speakers. Struggling to squeeze past eachother to put whatever dish they wanted on their plates; the Brown and Hemsworth family crowded the space as they broke up the single-file line.

“What’chu want on your plate baby?”, “Uhh I want that and ham!” Giselle saw Amelia point to the ham and the platter of Devil’s eggs. After putting the food on her plate Giselle went onto making Sienna’s plate before she did her own. Glancing over at Chris while she scooped some green beans on her plate Giselle watched her husband struggle to make his plate.

“Y’know maybe it’ll help if you put her down.”

“Aht! Don’t worry about what we doing, Mia tell auntie to quit worrying about us.” Chris kissed his teeth while Mia drooled and bobbed her fist around before he walked towards the drinks. With her eyes still on Chris, she twisted her mouth around as she saw how her husband has interacted with Mia.

Catching her husband mumble a few words to her niece, Giselle watched Mia’s heavy head drop within seconds before she reached up and gripped Chris’s neckline as she fought from closing her heavy eyes.

Melting at the sight Giselle found herself questioning her decision to hold off on having another baby once more. Exhaling, the actress took her eyes off the two only to glance down at her three brown babies for a second; could she really handle another one?

After she finished making the children’s and her plates Giselle left her kids sitting with their second cousins before she walked outside and sat down at the outside dining table. Settling down next to Chris who still managed to eat his food while keeping Mia close to his chest while responding to her cousin, Kj.

“Aye! Quit naggin’ him Kj! We didn’t come down here to breakdown every Marvel movie.” Giselle rebutted, making her cousin smack his lips while Chris stifled out a laugh. “—and that goes for the rest of y’all.”

“We just wanna know what happens to Thor!”

After finishing their food and feeding baby Mia, the couple’s rest of the evening was spent separated.

With Chris being pulled away by her cousins and siblings, he stayed outside with the men of her family who were laughing and sharing a case of Heineken’s.

Meanwhile, Giselle sat at the kitchen table chatting with her female cousins and younger sister. Gulping down the burgundy beverage the actress laughed at her cousin, “—then Marcus had the audacity to start that ‘I’m tired’ bullshit like man ion’ wanna hear that shit after I’ve been working all day, saddle up nigga!”

“I’m tired of that mothafucka holding out on me then he called himself tryna edge me and shit— I almost choked him when I was able to stand on my feet.”

“I swear I can’t stand that fine ass nigga. Just look at him outside laughing like shit is so sweet; ah hee hee haa haa ass nigga.” Giselle’s cousin, Rachel mocked, before kissing her teeth and throwing her wine back.

Tossing her head back at her cousin’s story Giselle went to bring her glass of Chardonnay to her mouth when suddenly a bitter fluid entered her mouth and began to puddle over her tastebuds. Wincing at the vile taste the actress closed her mouth and harshly swallowed before she started for her glass again.

—but her body had other plans, before Giselle could even lift her hand up by an inch she abruptly tasted the sour fluid back in her mouth followed by the sudden thrust of her food beginning to retrace.

Immediately throwing a hand over her mouth the actress slammed down her wine glass and stood up; spilling and staining the alcohol on the table while her chair screeched from her brisk moves.

Quickly gaining the attention of her family members, “GiGi is everything fine? Sweetheart, you’re looking a little gre—,” before her sister could finish getting her question out Giselle ran to the nearest bathroom.

Reaching the powder room the nauseous woman didn’t even get the chance to turn on the light before she fell to her knees, cradled the toilet and started to release the chunks from her mouth. With the plops of her contents splashing into the water while she threw up, Giselle missed the heavy footsteps coming down the hall before she felt a warm palm on her back.

Heaving against the toilet Giselle fluttered her eyes open and caught her husband kneeling down beside her side while combing her hair into a loose ponytail.

—and right behind Chris stood her mama searching for a washcloth to clean her baby’s face afterward.

“Baby! Giselle are you ok? Look at me.” Beginning to turn her head Giselle felt her stomach jolt and before she knew it she was hunched over the toilet again.

“—shit!” Chris hissed, while he caressed his wife’s back and waited until Giselle was done throwing up.

Hearing Giselle groan as he propped her body up against the wall, Chris moved fast as he flushed the toilet before he grabbed the wet cloth Mama Janice was pushing towards him. Holding her face with his left hand Chris wiped Giselle’s mouth with the other before he folded the cloth and dapped it across her face. “Do you feel better babe? Do you feel like you have to go again baby?” Chris questioned, voice slightly shaking as he stared into her dim eyes.

Watching her head slowly move side to side, the Australian nodded before he helped his wife to her feet only for her knees to starting buckling causing Chris to move on his feet and swiftly pick Giselle up.

“Oh, God!” Mama Janice rasped, as she stared at her oldest daughter before moving to open the door.

“Thanks mama. Hey, uh— can you bring me a can of ginger ale and some of those saltine crackers? Imma go ahead and take Giselle upstairs,” Chris requested.

“Yes, of course honey. Now gon’ and take my baby to her room, I’ll be up there soon.” Mama Janice sassed, before she shooed her son-in-law out the confined space and dismissed the lingering relatives.

Entering the hallway Chris headed towards the staircase when a voice called out to him, “Daddy! Is mommy gonna be okay?” before footsteps followed.

Immediately spotting a confused, but somewhat distressed Amelia coming closer, “Hey! Mommy is gonna be alright yea? She’s just a little sick okay, so why don’t you go with—um,” Chris paused, while he looked up and spotted Iris. “—come with me, baby.”

“Let’s go see what your siblings and cousins are doin’ in the kitchen huh? You feel like coloring Lia’?” Chris heard Iris question, while she walked Amelia away.

Sighing, Chris went on and took Giselle upstairs and got her tucked into the bed. After persuading his wife to sip on the ginger ale, Chris watched Giselle sleep for a minute before he placed a kiss on her forehead and headed out of the bedroom; letting Giselle be.

——————————

A daze greeted Giselle as she stirred awake before a yawn rippled her features. Curling up before pushing her arms out the brown beauty slowly propped up on her forearm and blinked while she looked around the bedroom. Noticing the can of ginger ale and pack of saltines, Giselle recalled what happened earlier.

Instantly tasting the bitter residue from earlier she frowned before sitting up, swinging her legs around the bed to brush her teeth. After freshening up for a minute, she reached the bottom of the staircase and went to look for her husband. Following the laughs, Giselle walked into the kitchen and quickly spotted Chris; standing in a corner laughing with Quinton.

Sliding past her family members Giselle reached Chris, “—uh, baby..” She whined, as she playfully nudged her younger brother aside to hug her man.

“Aye!”, “You feeling better baby, hm?” The Aussie asked, before he leaned back and held her face up with his palms on the sides of face. “Much better.”

“Plus, your color came back; you’re not as green.”

Nodding her head, Giselle exhaled before she pouted her lips and blinked up at her husband.

Without a second thought, Giselle felt Chris’s damp lips on hers, “Ugh! Can y’all cut that shit out. Now, I know what Iris was talking bout’— shit that might be why your sick GiGi.” Giselle heard Quinton complain.

Quickly freezing, the couple stared at eachother and let a wave of silence pass by before they busted out laughing, “Puh-lease!” Giselle giggled, before she placed her head back onto Chris’s heated chest.

Little did the couple know that Giselle’s younger siblings were onto something life-changing.

AUTHOR’S NOTE — This was just a quick little wrap up! More Chris and Giselle is coming in a couple of days. Anyways, thanks for reading and supporting!

TAGLIST — @wakandas-vibranium @oceanscorazon @melaninmarvel @wakandamama @storibambino @chaneajoyyy @ashanti-notthesinger @lewatigress @wakanda-inspired @blowmymbackout @theblulife @kreolemami @amethyst-dreams-and-candy-canes @lildashofmelanin @iamrheaspeaks @ororowrites @kumkaniudaku @theunsweetenedtruth @s0eul @klaylakayblack @shortstacks-blog @destinio1

[fics-ladyshudragon]

Homage for the Suffering Chapter 7: Her

Pairing: Beruani Setting: Mostly Canon

Summary: While still in Warrior training, the higher ups set up new programs for their cadets.  Injections to make their titan forms stronger and titan hybrid reproduction.  Only it’s not optional who gets placed where. Bertholdt and Annie must now find a way to survive not only for themselves but for their child.

Read it on Ao3 or Fanfiction

Previous Chapter

Rain drops hit the window ledge one at a time, sending smaller droplets shooting off in all directions.  It seemed to rain only on the bad days, and according to Annie, there were more of those than usual lately.  

Her nights were usually filled with waiting for him to come back.  It was a lonely process waiting for another person.  She sat back in her chair at the small wooden table in her kitchen, resting her small feet up on the edge.  The motion caused her knee to pop; surprising her in the quiet room.  

This was one of the many nights she sat there waiting for him to come home.  It seemed to become routine after the incident a few weeks back.  Bertholdt was changing with the training.  He was stronger.  He was angrier.

Annie figured he would want to talk when he got back from training that night. Curling up with a book in the kitchen was her best bet to passing the time and forgetting about being alone.

Of the three friends, Annie and Bertholdt were the bookworms.  She had actually been the one to teach Bertholdt to read.  On the bad nights at his home, Bertholdt would run to her and they would sneak into the loft of her father’s barn.  Together they would hide under a blanket with a lantern to light the pages.  It was those days that reading connected her most to him.  They’d fallen asleep like that numerous times, only waking with the sunlight coming through the open window.

         It was always a rush to get back before anyone noticed they were gone.  And she’d held his hand the whole way as they ran.

         It wasn’t long before Annie started hoarding her mother’s favorite books, and several blankets and pillows in the loft, just for such nights.

         Annie sighed.  As painful as some memories were, these only brought peace.  But the Bertholdt she knew now was very different from the one she knew then.

The front door creaked and Annie sat up, dropping her book in her lap.  A roll of thunder shook the window panes.  Bertholdt stood in the doorframe, his silhouette visible with a flash of lightning outside.  The breeze picked up, chilling the room.  

         Annie got up to grab a towel for him, quickly wrapping it around his shoulders.  He didn’t move at all from the spot by the door, worrying Annie that things were much worse than they already seemed.  She shoved him gently away from the door so she could shut it. “Bertholdt,” Annie whispered.  She reached a hand to this arm, resting it there. Rain water slicked off of him, dripping to the floor.  “Bertholdt,” she repeated, “c’mon, let’s get you out of these clothes, you’ll freeze.” She tried to tug on his sleeve.  

         He wouldn’t budge.

         While in the past she would not have hesitated to yank him down the hall and make him listen…this time she couldn’t make herself do it.  His face looked so broken.  So angry. So very unlike the loving, shy boy she knew.

         “Bertholdt, please,” Annie begged, worry seeping into her bones.  “You’re going to get sick.”

         He finally complied, lifting the edges of his shirt up and over his head.  The clothing tried desperately to cling to his body with the weight of the water. He dropped the shirt to the floor.

         Another roll of thunder sounded outside, shaking the ground.  

“Annie, you love me, right?”  He said the words slow and quiet, so quiet that Annie did not hear them immediately.  

         “Of course.”  

         He reached a hand up to wipe some of the water from his face.  “No matter what happened in the past?  Or what will happen?”

         “Yes, but why are you asking me this?” she demanded.  Annie didn’t want to give him any reason to doubt her, but his dark behavior was so uncharacteristic.  “Please get the rest of those clothes off.  You’re shivering.”

         “Then…” he stopped, thinking, ignoring her, as more water dripped down his face from his dark hair. “Then I want you to tell me everything.  All that you and Reiner knew.”  He looked down into her blue eyes, and she couldn’t tell it was rain or tears in his eyes.

         Annie reached a cool hand to his face.  “I told you that weeks ago!  Why now? I mean, if that’s what you wa–”

“Not now,” Bertholdt snapped, cutting her off. “Because tonight you’re mine.”

         Suddenly he was kissing her, more force and wanting than she had ever felt from him before.  His lips were rough, and he was so wet.  She couldn’t resist him, only accepting it, reaching her other hand up to his face and brushing whatever water was there away.

         He wrapped one tan arm around her waist, and the other hand behind her neck, gripping it tightly in his palm.  Annie felt herself being backed into the lowly lit kitchen.  In a few steps, her butt hit the edge of the table, and Bertholdt’s hands moved to lift her onto it.  Her hands traced his wet body.  He shivered under her touch, a little from the cold and a little from her.  With his chest already bare, she moved to his pants, trying to undo the button holding them on, but his fingers stopped her.  Burning green eyes glared into hers.

         Her hands went back his face, his neck, his chest.  She allowed her fingers and mouth to investigate his body as his hands started stripping her from her own clothes.  He tore off her shirt and pulled down her pants in just a few seconds, leaving her in her underwear before him.  

         His eyes softened some, seeing her like this again before him.   Slowly a large hand reached up to one of her breasts, cupping it gently.  Her head leaned back taking in the feeling of his touch, and she gasped a bit when his mouth touched the skin of her collarbone. Even though he had been soaked moments before, every place he touched her radiated warm.  She’d missed him so much, being the only one not allowed to train, being the one left alone all day with Gisa, in a house that didn’t feel like a home.  

         All she wanted was her best friend by her side.  The boy she loved.

         Annie looked down at his head, and wrapped her arms around him, hugging his head to her chest. “Hi,” she said tentatively.

         Bertholdt relaxed his muscles and leaned into her.  He breathed a laugh into her chest, moving to look in her eyes. “Hi.”

         She didn’t want this to be one way; she so badly wanted to let him feel how she did.  Annie wanted him to know how it felt to be loved, to be wanted.  How long had he pined after her; how many years of her not giving any romantic feelings a second thought?  Her thumb started to trace his bottom lip and she curled her other hand around his shoulder. “Are you okay now?”

         Bertholdt smiled up at her, a real, genuine Bertholdt smile.  The blush she knew so well crept up his face.  “Yeah, I’m okay.  Sorry about that.  We don’t have to do anything.”

         Annie continued to watch him, trying to judge his mood.  He was so angry when he left.  And even more so just then, coming in with the rain.  But the tender look in his eyes, the softness of his features were all it took to really reassure her.  “I believe you.”

           His lips slowly trailed up her chest to her face, kissing the edges of her mouth, her cheeks, her eyelids.  Annie took hold of his face between her hands and directed his mouth to hers, kissing him as earnestly as she could.  

          “Bertholdt,” she said, pulled back a little.  Her hands dropped to his chest.  “Are you sure you’re not tired?”

         “Not tonight.”

         She reached for his wrist. “Then let’s meet in the bedroom…”

         “So how’s the morning sickness?  Or did you not get any of that?”

         “You’re funny.  And I feel absolutely awful.”  Gisa sat back in the kitchen chair with a cup of hot tea held to her lips.  “But no morning sickness.  Jokes on you, it’s too soon for that.”

         Annie shrugged.  “I don’t know anything about this stuff.”

         The girls sat across from each other in Giselle’s kitchen, sipping tea and discussing the finer points of their days alone.  Annie picked at a sandwich in front of her.  She adjusted in the wooden chair, her hips very sore from the night before.

         “You two sure were loud last night,” Gisa mused, giving Annie a knowing eye.

         “Hush, I’m not the one ‘with child.’”

         Gisa smiled.  “Anyway, do you maybe want to go for a walk or something today?  I am so tired of this place already.”

         “You say that every day.  And we literally take a walk every day.  Why don’t we do something different for a change?”  Annie stood from her spot at the table to take her plate to the sink.  “We could maybe… do some training?” she asked tentatively.  

         Her friend’s eyes widened. “I thought you had given up on that already?”

         Annie shrugged.  “I’ve been thinking about it a lot.  It can’t be that damaging, as long as I don’t shift or overdo it.”  She turned to Gisa and leaned up against the sink.  “So same spot as before?”

         Gisa smiled.

With each hit, Annie processed all the pain in her world.

Paradis Eldians were the most flawed of all creatures. And titan shifters like her were created to eradicate them and fight for Marley.  This is what they were taught from the moment they entered the Warrior training.  The world would be a better place without the evils of mankind, the demons of Paradis Island.

Reiner, Bertholdt, and Annie all believed it.

“How could you be important to them if your ancestors left you here?”

“Wouldn’t you rather be citizens of Marley, you demons?”

“Your humanity is nothing.”

They’d heard it all.  

Yet, nothing kept them from obeying, from falling for the trap set by the Marleyan government.  Fight for us and your family can be a citizen.  No more compounds.  No more war.

They bought it.  And they fought hard for the privilege to not only shift into a titan, but to inherit the power of the Nine.  

It’s easy to brainwash kids who don’t know any better.  Becoming one of the Nine powerful titans had it’s drawbacks.  It meant going to war.  It meant possibly dying.  It meant losing your humanity and becoming a murderer.  

Annie led another punch straight into the flour bag.

Her mother, small but strong, was ripped away from her when she was young.  And she didn’t see her mother again until the day she needed to shift for the first time.

Shift and come back.

Annie had been warned of the scene that would be in front of her: another human, tied by the hands and feet with chains, a gag in his/her mouth.  She would get injected a final time in the arm and then burst into her titan body for the first time.  It wouldn’t hurt, and she wouldn’t remember a thing.  

What no one had told Annie was that her mother would be the shifter sacrificed so she could change back into a human.  It was with horror in her young, teary eyes that the needle broke through her skin, too quickly to say “no!”  Annie woke with Reiner holding her head and Bertholdt her hand.  

On the empty stand where her mother had been only a single foot remained.  

Her father never told her.  Or maybe he didn’t know.

At that moment, Annie felt her first bit of true hatred for humanity.  What made them so special to fight back and ruin the world for us?  They left us to fend for ourselves in the Titan War, to lose to Marley.  To become their slaves.  Victims to their own cause.

The feelings persisted, as countless weeks of titan training control ensued.  How long could she last?  How big could she get?  How much of Annie was still present inside the mask of a giant monster?

She was a force of destruction.  Fast, athletic, strong.  Nothing like Reiner, but the longevity of her titan was above average, and her cognition from within outdid that of many of her training team. They said she looked like her mother’s Female Titan.  

Annie’s knuckles bled as she continued to strike the bag.

A weapon of her kind was made for the destruction of humanity, and she slowly forgot why she ever questioned otherwise. Humans were evil and they must be destroyed for the good of all.

Or that’s what she was taught.

“I assumed you weren’t going to do this anymore?” Bertholdt accused as he wrapped his girlfriend’s tiny hands with bandage.  

“I needed a different activity than walking with Gisa every day.  You can’t leave me alone all day and expect me not to continue my training.”  She winced as the bandage rubber the raw skin.  “Besides, the more I thought about it, the more I realized it won’t hurt a baby.”

Bertholdt sighed, too tired to contest.  “Fine.  Do what you want.”

They sat quietly in the bedroom, the only light the flickering lantern near the bed. While there was no thunder, a small breeze and rain flicked the windows like the night before.

Annie broke the silence first.  “How’s training?  Can you tell me about the mission?”

“Why so interested?  A few weeks ago you didn’t want to know the details…”

“Newly understood intrigue.  While I was training, I thought a bit about my mom and the first day I shifted.  At least what I remembered of it.”

“We are going to Paradis Island.  Reiner, Marcel, and me.  They want us to bring down a few of the walls.”  Bertholdt looked at Annie.  “They said this expedition may take a few years.”

“Years!?” Annie feel back on her bed, hands over her face.

“There’s a district called Shiganshina, a city that sits out of the first wall.  We have to break the first gate there… that’s my job.  Then Reiner is supposed to break down the inner wall.  Marcel is supposed to take out any weapons on the walls themselves.  The idea is that an evacuation won’t be quick enough for the population there.  Then the inner wall dwellers will lose their lands, humanity will be pushed back.”

Annie listened, understanding the importance of what he was tasked.

“They either die being eaten or at the hands of their own people.  Overpopulation and a small area, with little food, should end the reign of the island demons.”  Bertholdt quieted.  “Then we return, assuming we aren’t killed.  I get pardoned as an Eldian, treated like a hero, and we move out of the compound.”

“Until you have to give up your titan,” Annie spoke matter-of-factly, “or you die in the next 10 years.”

“Hopefully I will have the pleasure to train the future holder of my titan.”  Bertholdt got up from his chair and moved it back to wall beside the door, before joining Annie on the bed.  “There’s talk of you joining us for this expedition.  That is, Zeke is trying to convince them.”

“Obviously that won’t work,” Annie said.  “They can either have me pregnant or on the island. They can’t have both.”

“And that is exactly why he was shot down.”

The couple remained still.  This mission would change their world forever.  But what was the cost?

“Look, Annie, let’s not dwell on this too much?  Other than your torn hands, how was your day?  I feel like I don’t ask you enough.”  Bertholdt turned to look at her.

As Annie say up, she said, “Nothing too exciting. Nothing like your day, I’m sure. Did you kick Marcel’s ass yet?”

Bertholdt laughed.  “If I could, I would.  He’s had it coming for a while now.”  He continued to look at the tiny blond.  “But, let’s not talk about him tonight.” He leaned down to kiss her hair.  

“What should we talk about then, Bertl?” she teased.

“How about no talking?”  Bertholdt grabbed her middle and pulled her onto his lap.  He wrapped his arms around her chest and tucked his chin on her shoulder.  Bertholdt began with slow kisses to her nape, his fingers tangling lightly in her golden hair.  

Annie sighed, leaning back into him.  She felt his hands trace down her arms and then up her sides, following the curves, where he finally caressed the skin of her breasts through her shirt.  Goosebumps rose on her flesh.  His kisses continued lower on her collarbone as he leaned over her.  

“I am going to get this shirt off of you, okay?”  He growled.

Her voice came out in small breaths.  “Yes.”

Slowly his fingers began undoing the buttons of her shirt.  His lips grazed her skin, following the loosened buttons.  She turned in his lap, allowing him access to her chest and straddling his hips.  Annie could feel him under her seat.  Her body reacted in time with his.  

“Your pants are next,” he teased, biting one of her nipples.  

This elicited a loud sigh from Annie’s lips.

He tossed her from his lap, landing on her on her back against the pillows.  Bertholdt climbed on top of her.  “Ready?”

“Yes.”

“Berty!” the voice called out for him.  

Bertholdt opened his eyes, but was momentarily blinded by the sun.  It was a cloudless day, bright and blue.  His hands lay under his head, as he remained supine on a grassy hill.  

“Berty!” the same voice called again.

It was a young Annie, running up the hill toward him.   Her blond hair was long and tossed behind her like the blades of grass.  Her smile was bright.

He sat up to greet her.

But something was changed.  The face was all wrong.  Her hair looked like Annie’s, but her eyes were his.  

“Daddy!” the girl called, the sound different this time.  She threw herself on his lap, laughing.

Daddy? he thought, confused.  Who was this girl?

Before Bertholdt could process the girl or anything else, he saw them coming from the distance.  A mob of lab coats, followed by a horde of titans.  

Including his own, the 60 meter Colossal Titan.

Their eyes red.  Their bodies followed by a cloud of darkness.

The titans reached them first, reaching for him and the small girl in his lap.  He couldn’t move.  All Berthold could do was watch in horror as a titan picked up the girl and slowly directed her to its mouth.

Her screams were deafening.  She reached for him desperately.

He could do nothing but scream and watch as the titan devoured her whole.  

Next Chapter (In Progress)

[kristie-rp]

Questionable Responsibility

Original (middle section) by @cassandra-rp / @coloredinsanity

Sequel

“Your parents are great,” Elissa says from where she is sprawled across his bed.

Cethin hums his agreement from where he is scanning college brochures. Melina and Isaac are, objectively speaking, pretty fantastic foster-turned-adoptive parents, and Elissa thinks that more than most other people their age. She’s been raised next door by servants and nannies and tutors after her own parents, who died mysterious deaths either before Cethin lived here, or before he can remember. “What about your new bodyguard, ‘Lissa?” he asks, his voice taking on a teasing lilt.

“Kachim? He’s – he’s not my bodyguard,” Elissa protests immediately, predictably. Cethin laughs, knowing she is probably blushing again. “He’s just – I found him on the ground while I was out riding and he’s been staying ever since, you know that.”

“That’s what you claim,” Cethin taunts, because he can be a jerk at times, and because he likes the way it makes Elissa more flustered than usual.

She is still stammering defences over Cethin’s laughter when Melina comes upstairs to get her to come downstairs to go with Kachim, back from wherever he goes when he’s not being a shadow with a smile. Cethin trails after her downstairs to swipe some food before his mom closes the kitchen in the lead up to dinner, waving at the bodyguard but not approaching. It’s not that he doesn’t like Kachim, it’s that there’s something vaguely unnerving about the way he looms. He’s a perfectly nice person, but he smiles like he’s got a secret, and in Cethin’s hyperactive imagination he swears he caught a glimpse of fangs in amongst that heavy Russian accent more than once.

Anyway.

“Don’t spoil your dinner,” Melina instructs, amused. “Have you picked a college yet?”

“I haven’t even decided on a course yet, mom,” he laughs half-heartedly, rifling through the cupboard until he finds an apple that isn’t green and sour. “Engineering? Teaching? Social work? There are so many options, I don’t know how anyone chooses, let alone how I’m going to.”

“You don’t want to be a social worker,” his foster mother assures him. She’s pulling the ingredients she’ll need to prepare dinner out of various kitchen cupboards. “No thanks go to those poor people.”

“’Specially the ones who try to convince you to take more than you signed up for, right?” Cethin says it without any bitterness, but it’s not a happy comment. He’s a foster child, yes, and technically it’s thanks to an overinvested social worker that he’s now with the family he is. But then, according to everything his parents have told him – and his own hazy memories and the crying that haunts his too-vivid dreams at night – he has a biological sister. The social worker following his case tried to get them both in the same home, but the McKinley’s weren’t interested in a second child, or a daughter, and as he’s said – his parents are single-minded people. They took him. They didn’t take the girl, with a name his parents claim to have forgotten.

“Cethin...”

“Where’s dad?” he asks, cutting through the comment. Melina immediately turns away from him, the way she tends to when she’s hiding something. It’s common around his birthday, and around Christmas.

“He’s picking up a surprise for you, hopefully,” she says, her voice soft and warm. It’s full of love. He’s lucky to be in a house like this, not that he was deprived of affection before – he ended up in the system because a social worker had been concerned that his biological parents couldn’t afford to feed their two children. The couple – or the mother, at least – was coerced into giving them up, and Cethin has never forgiven the womans’ nosiness, even if she is owed some thanks. Cethin can learn to be single-minded, too.

“It’s not my birthday though?”

She snorts and pushes him off the counter, shooing him out of the kitchen. “Let me cook. We’re probably having company for dinner – go narrow down your course list, hm?”

“Fiiiine.”

Port Lyndon is cold enough during the summer, with constant rain and a sea breeze keeping everything crisp. In winter, any water that is not loaded with salt becomes ice. The cold is brutal, intense enough that even the most weather worn person is hesitant to brave a walk to the store.

Nobody wants to think about the light haired girl on the park bench, and how she isn’t going to be inside. They don’t want to look at a guilty face in the mirror when they go to bed tonight, tucking themselves into a soft bed in a heated home.

Her clothes are a mix of things, threadbare and stolen. She doesn’t remember the feeling of a warm bath, and she cannot recall the security a locked door might bring her.

Life is hard.

There are some who show kindness, as much as they can. There is a man who steps of of a closed cafe, leaving a box and a capped white bucket in a silent transaction. It’s a rare treat, the latter at least. Giselle picks it up with stiff fingers, forcing herself to her feet and starting on her journey. She considers being selfish, keeping the bounty for herself – but she isn’t that cruel.

Port Lyndon doesn’t only have its’ name because of the rich family who live on the hill. The Port part refers to the fact that the successful port remains, taking up large parts of the harbour. But time results in change, and the original shipyard is no longer used for business. It’s safe for people like her, the lost and the poor. They gather in metal forts built from abandoned shipping containers, and keep each other as safe as possible.

(She’s been abused so often in the past that she doesn’t feel safe, even among her own people. It doesn’t matter how deep the reassurance runs, it fails to reach her in a manner that will have an impact.)

The shipping containers make good homes and dependable roofs, but they’re cramped. The metal traps the heat from fires lit in barrels better than anything else they have found. One of them is near a table with nothing but a bell on it; it is here that she sets down her day-old pastries and leftover coffee, tapping the bell until it rings. She opens the box eagerly, picking out her favourite of the selection – a vanilla cupcake with raspberry icing, covered in cookie crumbs – as is the rule: deliverer gets first pick.

The adults begin to ration out what she has provided and what they already have, one of the younger adult men preparing a metal can that will serve to warm the coffee arm. Giselle lingers to watch, soaking in the warmth as she examines the scene through the cracked lenses of her glasses, before turning to walk through the shipyard. She can visit, but she cannot stay the night, not when she has already given her spot to a mother and her baby.

She finds the rotted old row boat she tends to store things in in as good condition as she expects, crawling into it and pulling the tarp back over. She flexes her fingers to work some mobility into them, and removes some pills from her bag. She forces them down dry, unwilling to brave the world outside for the frozen rainwater that might make it easier, and curls into a tight ball.

The drugs numb her enough that the cold won’t have her body shaking itself apart in the night, and her body relaxes slowly. Her sleep is deep, deep enough to last even with the snow that starts to fall again, pushing down on her tarp. It will eat into her bones in the morning, might make her sick again, and she remains out cold in every sense of the world, shivering and coughing even in her sleep.

She doesn’t feel the snow lighten, or the rush of cold as the tarp is removed. She certainly doesn’t feel the press of warm, gentle fingers to her wrist. Her body is numb all over, cold and the medication causing it, not that she could tell you what the medicine held.

What wakes her, just the slightest amount, is warmth enveloping her trembling frame. She is too tired and too close to sleep to bother with the anxiety she should feel, and she can see the edge of a car door as it closes. She is resigned to it: she expects to be used and abused, at this point. It won’t change anything. Nothing ever does, not for her.

“Mel?”

Cethin closes the brochure for PLU with a huff, more interested in his dad pulling into the driveway than he is in choosing his future. The black towncar is a cliché for the upper class, but Isaac loves it, and Cethin didn’t hate learning to drive in it, although he prefers the small coupe he has now. He gets to his feet to go look out the window at the drive, but his contacts aren’t designed for seeing things at a distance. He swears he can see his dad removing a bundle from the backseat of the car, something bundled in the picnic blanket that lives in the boot in case of the minor miracle of a sunny day in Port Lyndon, but that – that doesn’t make sense.

He’s tempted to go downstairs to investigate, and he does, lingering halfway down the steps to peer into the living room, where everything seems to be happening. His parents are leaning over someone on the couch, apparently, someone bundled in a picnic blanket, the throw rug, and worn fabrics in earth tones and blues. “Dad?”

Isaac ignores Cethin, which is unusual in itself. Melina turns, catches Cethin’s eye. “Bring down the space heater please, would you, Cethin? I need it in the bathroom.”

“Isn’t that a fire hazard?” Cethin asks empty air, Melina disappearing into the kitchen. He sighs and troops upstairs to remove the heater from the guest room, carrying it to the downstairs bathroom. It’s this one that has a bathtub, the only one in the house. His mom loves it, with Melina spending hours with the jets pummelling her aging body. She calls it soothing, but Cethin’s never liked baths.

Melina and the bundle disappear into the bathroom to the tune of running water after Cethin turns on the heater, and Cethin really, really doesn’t like not having answers. He comes into the living room to put his hands on his hips and stare at his dad – Isaac – until he gets attention. “What is it?”

“Who’s here?”

“Her name is Giselle, I believe. Or it was once.” Isaac frowns. So does Cethin, except his is less a frown and more a suspicious squint. His voice becomes wary.

“Dad?”

“Mm.”

“If you kidnapped someone, you wouldn’t drag mom into it, would you?”

“It’s not kidnapping!” Isaac protests a little too loudly for his liking, startled by the accusation. Cethin snorts. “Well, it won’t be. She should be sixteen, seventeen, something like that. Hardly a kid.”

“Those blankets were the tiniest not-kid I’ve ever seen,” Cethin points out. It’s Isaac’s turn to scoff. “Dad, why’d you bring them - her here? You should’ve taken ‘em home.”

“They don’t have a home.” That sounds incredibly ominous. Cethin stares at his father some more, until Isaac seems to realize what he said. “She’s homeless, Cethin. Let me – let me start again. Remember what we said when we asked if you’d like to be adopted?”

Sure he does. He calls his parents out on it all the time, when he wants a little guilt to help him have his way. “I have a sister that you didn’t want.”

“Right,” Isaac agrees, though it clearly pains him to do so. He never does like being seen as a bad person. “You want her, though.”

“Of course I do. She’s family. She deserves nice things, too.” She deserves to be as much of a spoilt child as he can be, actually, but he doesn’t say that. He thinks, instead, that what she – his almost-imaginary sister – deserves is to know she is loved unconditionally, and he knows enough horror stories to know not everyone in foster care gets the happily ever after he’s ended up with.

“Well – that’s her.”

Cethin snorts, because that seems unlikely, and his immediate thought it not likely. Then it pauses. Stops. He stares at his father yet again, because this is – what? “You kidnapped someone you think is my little sister?”

“She’s hardly in a state to provide a coherent response to any offers,” he protests. It’s defensive as anything Cethin has ever heard.

It’s ridiculous, is what it is. Cethin rubs under his eyes, the closest he can come to the exhausted rubbing at his eyes he can do with contacts in place. “You abducted someone because you think they’re related to me?”

“I know she is. Just – I do.”

Whatever protest Cethin has been planning on is interrupted by a sudden splash and an alarmed, wordless outburst. Both Cethin and Isaac look to the bathroom door in alarm, expecting yelling. None comes, just the soothing hum of Melina’s gentle voice, too quiet to be made out as she reassures this – Giselle. Supposed Giselle. Supposed sibling of Cethin.

“My parents are child abducters,” Cethin says hopelessly.

It’s probably a good thing Kachim took Elissa home when he did.

[mysdrymmumbles]

Andraste’s Witch - Chapter 69 - SFW

Pairings: Slowburn Cullen x F!Witch!Inquisitor, Eventual Adoribull

Rating: M for later chapters which will include violence, PTSD, withdrawal,  angst, body horror (think red templars), and possibly other stuff that I will be sure to tag. This is not actually a grimdark story, but I just wanna give people a heads up for stuff that will happen. There will also be fluff and friendship and magic (though to be fair, this is Thedas, so magic will not always be positive and very rarely as adorable as that last statement implied).

Genre: Action/Adventure with elements of romance  

Summary: Dorian finds himself a bit more popular than he’s used to. 

Still no clue on when I’ll have a consistent update schedule, but thank you for sticking with me and reading anyway! Ya’ll are great!

Andraste’s Witch 

Chapter 69 - If It’s Not One Thing...

Skyhold felt a bit empty, even though Dorian was absolutely certain that there were more people present than ever before—granted, they were mostly in the ever-growing village by the river, but that was hardly the point.

The illustrious herald and her advisors had headed off to Denerim, taking a sparse few party members with her, and while Dorian understood why she’d left him behind—the King wasn’t fond of mages, and he doubted that one from Tevinter would be seen in a better light—he couldn’t help but feel a little put out by it.

He hadn’t really come south to save the day, but he’d…

Well, he had expected to be at least a little bit useful.

It was bad enough that he’d lost the library to the tranquil. They were so eerie that it made his soul cold just standing near them, staring into their lifeless eyes and listening to them drone on in absolutes, never feelings.

Worse, they couldn’t be reasoned with. They knew how to organize their books, and they were not open to more practical methods.

He’d tried going to the rebel mages to see how they generally dealt with the tranquil only to learn that most of them had a tendency to simply pretend they didn’t exist.

Truly, the south was a baffling place.

He supposed he understood not wanting to face what could be done to oneself, but still…they were—had been mages. Did they no longer count as brethren?

He’d considered asking time and time again, yet somehow…it didn’t seem appropriate.

And while Grand Enchanter Fiona and a handful of other mages were grateful to him for the help that he and Felix had provided them, most of the mages were wary the second they heard his accent.

It was understandable, considering how they’d nearly become slaves to Tevinter mages, he supposed, though it was yet another moment where he was mostly annoyed without being able to explain why.

He knew he would be viewed as a villain down south. He’d been used to it in Orlais.

Yet it still stung when someone new eyed him with caution or stopped mid-sentence and hurried away.

Not that he’d let them see it. No need to give them proper gossip.

And anyway, he heard more interesting things eavesdropping while pretending to read than in any conversation.

For example, Lady Vivienne was searching for Cole along with a few other mages, though they’d been unsuccessful in finding him. Dorian half-suspected that the creature had left with Finley. It would have if it was smart, anyway.

The mages were divided on what to think of Finley, as were the templars. A few were calling for a phylactery to be made, ‘if’ she came back from Denerim.

As though she wouldn’t.

Add to that that Varric had left with his old friends to gather red lyrium or something completely foolish.

Without Finley, Dorian had little reason to associate with Solas or Vivienne or any of the others. Without Varric, he had little reason to lounge about the main hall.

Regardless of whether the dwarf was there or not, it had become an unspoken truth that the hearth was his and no one else’s.

Dorian had sat at the table once, without thinking, but the looks people had given him as they’d wandered past had made him most uncomfortable.

It was a damned table. A rickety, miserable one, at that. What did it matter if he sat there?

In the end, he’d left it because of how eerily empty it felt, rather than the annoying stares of those who thought he was trying to usurp the writer’s position.

He’d been eavesdropping in the library from his little corner that he’d managed to get the tranquil to leave alone—it was not a victory, considering all he had to do was take a few steps to see that the organization of the books was all wrong—for most of his evening, idly listening as mages debated the usefulness of having the inquisitor be a mage and whether things might actually change—it was the same droll topics as always just in different voices—when he’d decided to go elsewhere.

Big as Skyhold was, he had few places he could truly go. Mother Giselle frequented the gardens, and she was always giving him a critical eye, as though she expected him to abruptly start twirling his moustache and cackling maniacally as he recited prayers to the Old Gods.

He’d been tempted to do so on more than one occasion, just to see what she’d do, but thus far he’d behaved.

It did, however, leave the gardens somewhat off limits if he wanted time to relax. He avoided the undercroft most of the time, as the new arcanist was a bit too talkative, and it could be a mite exhausting trying to keep up with her train of thought.

Really, all that was left was the Herald’s Rest, and it wasn’t particularly enjoyable, either.

There were a few mages who would beckon him over to sit with them, but for the most part, he was drinking alone, and well, one could do that anywhere.

And yet, despite it all, he’d headed to the Herald’s Rest anyway.

Now, he couldn’t help but wonder why he was there. Even as he considered going off to his private chambers for the night, the bench creaked beside him, dipping so that he almost slid to his right.

Looking over, incredulous, he found the qunari mercenary Finley seemed to hold in high regard had taken a seat beside him. The hulking man was watching the crowd wax and wane in the main part of the bar, as though he didn’t realize he’d caught Dorian’s attention.

“Don’t you normally stay near the wall?”

“Sorry, this your table?”

With a snort, Dorian looked away from him, nursing his current drink. “Hardly.”

A silence settled over them, though Dorian couldn’t even remotely call it comfortable. At least not until he glanced over to see that The Iron Bull looked rather relaxed, reclining where he was as he people watched.

The tavern’s ambient light did wonders for the qunari’s biceps…

A thought that was fleeting at most as Dorian looked back out as well.

Dorian bristled when he heard The Iron Bull let out a low hum. When he glanced over at him, The Bull motioned out toward the far side of the tavern, to a mage who was tentatively talking to one of the soldiers—a templar, if his armor was any indication. “Bit of an odd pairing, wouldn’t you say? Want to wager how long it will last?”

It was such a casual thing to say, so…

It made no sense. Of all the people in Skyhold, he’d rather expected the qunari to be the least likely to come to him for idle conversation, considering their people’s history.

“What exactly is it you want?”

The Bull appraised him a moment, finally giving Dorian his full attention, and he couldn’t help but feel a little overwhelmed by that. The Bull was huge and…

“Word is that there’s a bet that dwarf writer—Varric—is hosting.” Dorian stilled as the words sunk in, eyes widening slowly. “Something to do with whose luck will win out first? A certain templar’s or a certain ex-templar’s?”

Immediately, Dorian slid closer to The Bull, glaring up at him. “Who told you about that?”

“I have my sources.”

Dorian’s lips dipped into a pronounced frown as he glared up at the bastard. He should have figured out no one would be sidling up beside him to talk to him…

“Well, as you said, Varric is hosting the bet. So I hardly see why you’re talking to me about that.”

The Bull’s grin said he was enjoying this conversation a little bit too much. “Well, you are in on it, aren’t you?”

“I see no reason to answer that.”

“My men and I were just wondering how we might get in on that, seeing as it seems like—considering how many people are getting interested—it might be a lucrative win. Half of us guess one way, the others guess the other. We split the profit regardless. We can’t lose.”

“You can’t just guess so generically,” Dorian snapped, though he instantly felt like an idiot, as The Bull’s grin widened. Sitting up a bit straighter, Dorian let his gaze wander from his current company, glancing around for anything he could feign interest in. “It’s a matter of who and when. And Varric is the one keeping track of all that, so again, no point in talking to me.”

“Let’s say I bet next week for the Lady Seeker and her beau. If nothing happens by then, can I change mine? Or would I have to place another bet?”

“Vishante kaffas,” Dorian hissed. “Do you listen?” When he found The Bull staring expectantly regardless, Dorian closed his eyes and took in a slow breath. There was no point in answering the man’s questions, considering he was just going to keep prying.

Instead of giving him what he wanted, Dorian shot to his feet, striding out of the tavern without much thought to where to go from there. As soon as he was out in the cool night air, however, he found that he wasn’t going to be afforded a moment to himself.

“You should read this.”

Dorian turned his head slowly to see that damned…what was he even? Spirit? Demon? Conjured minion?

So much for him being smart enough to leave with Finley.

“I have free will,” Cole assured Dorian, though that was hardly a comfort.

The spirit was holding out a folded piece of paper that had dark splotches upon it, which—when Dorian reached for it—he found to be blood.

Fresh blood.

For the second time in minutes, he was cursing in his native tongue. Glancing around for anyone who might be watching to damn the wicked Tevinter for associating with malevolent spirits carrying bloody messages, he gripped Cole by the arm and dragged him around the corner, into the shadows.

“What is this?”

“Important.”

Dorian reached up to pinch the bridge of his nose, but stopped himself as he realized his thumb was still bloodied. With another quiet curse, he looked around for something to wipe his hand on. Finding nothing, he glared at the spirit. “If it’s important—”

“Solas doesn’t know all the words, and I just know the intent is…bad.” The spirit shuddered as though a cold wind had swept over them, and then held out the note again. “There’s no one else I could ask to help.”

Despite feeling like dragging the spirit all the way to wherever Solas slept to ask him to keep his pet in line—he was the one declaring Cole safe, after all—Dorian’s gaze slid down toward the envelope. “If I read this will you go away?”

The spirit nodded quickly, and even in the dim light, Dorian could see the simple smile on the creature’s face.

Mouth a thin line, and brow pinched together, he held his hand out.

No sooner had the paper touched his hand, he was alone.

It was little consolation.

However, he was certain that creature would be back if he didn’t keep his end of the bargain, and so he slipped back toward the front of the building until he could see clear enough to read without needing to conjure anything himself.

Whatever he’d expected the letter to read, it hadn’t been this.

Dorian’s mind blanked, and then he blinked a few times, looking around, suddenly wishing the spirit hadn’t left him so quickly. Where had he gone?

“You…Cole?” he whispered the name, a hiss into the night.

When no boyish figure materialized in front of him to clarify things, his gaze snapped back to the letter.

It was written in Tevene.

Of course it was written in Tevene. Who in their right mind would bother to plot in any other tongue? Aside from Orlesian, perhaps.

Hold plans in their fortress. With what we’ve got in the capital, it may not be necessary.

And that was it.

No signature, no specifics as to what capital or anything. Maker’s ass, they could have been talking about Minrathous or Val Royeaux or…

“What’s this?”

“That’s what I’d bloody well like to—” Dorian cut himself off as he realized who he was talking to and looked over his shoulder to see The Bull standing there, peering down at the letter in his hand.

The bloody letter in Dorian’s Tevinter hands, written in Tevene, that implied there was a plot afoot, likely against the Inquisiton.

“How’d you get that?” The Bull demanded, straightening up and crossing his arms. “I’ve been trying to get Krem to get in with those Tevinter spies for weeks, but he just gripes at me that he’s not one for subterfuge. I figured asking you would be pointless, but…” He cocked his head, appraising Dorian with new interest.

Dorian took in a slow breath, glancing from The Bull to the paper and back. “You…know this wasn’t me? That I’m not involved?”

“Yep.” Even as Dorian’s mind scrambled for the word ‘how’, The Bull grinned at him. “I have my sources.”

“They must be good sources; I’ll give you that.”

The Bull shrugged.

“Then…” Dorian hesitated as he eyed the qunari, wondering if asking questions would really be a good idea. “Do you know what this is about?”

“You don’t?”

“Clearly.”

Cracking his neck one way and then the other, The Bull motioned toward the paper. “The Venatori are looking for a way to bring down the Inquisition. There’s a few around Skyhold. The Spymaster and I are keeping an eye on them.”

Dorian let out a huff. “Even I could piece that much together.” He hit the paper with the back of his free hand. “This says something’s going on in a capital. Does this mean…” Perhaps it was the wine that made his mind register what had to be the most obvious answer a bit slower than he should have. “Finley and everyone are headed to…the Venatori must be planning something in Denerim.” His gaze snapped back up to The Bull. “We have to warn them.” He ran his fingers through his hair, trying to remember that ridiculous bird spell that Finley had shown him. It was conjugated atrociously, and he had yet to get it to work properly.

He started toward the main building, thinking to go up to the rookery, but stopped, abruptly turning back to The Bull, who still stood where he’d found Dorian. He paced back to the qunari, holding up the note. “Who here is working for the Venatori?”

“We don’t know all of them.”

“Vishan—” Cursing wasn’t going to fix this problem. A proper curse might, but not…

How could he send a message? What if the person he sent it through was Venatori or just working for Corypheus? What if the person who relayed the message or received the message was?

They had to warn Finley.

Maker’s balls, but all the important members of the Inquisition were in that group. If something happened to them, there would be no Inquisition.

“Where are you going?”

The Bull’s words were in his ear as he matched Dorian’s pace. “Someone’s got to warn them.”

“So you’re just going to…what?” The Bull peered ahead as they rushed down the stairs. “Saddle up a horse and ride off in the dead of night? That won’t be suspicious.”

“To the Void with suspicions!” Dorian snapped, starting to turn on his harasser, but instead continuing toward the stables. “My reputation is already in shambles, what do I care if I have a few more wary looks cast my way when I get back?”

“Assuming you do get back.”

“Is there a reason you’re trying to talk me out of this?”

“No, no.” The Bull reached out and caught Dorian’s arm, stopping him in the middle of the lower courtyard. “By all means, go. But we’ll come with you. Anyone wanting to keep this quiet will think twice about coming after a mercenary company instead of just a lone man.”

“A lone Tevinter mage.”

“Altus.”

Whatever Dorian was about to say, it was forgotten with that clarification.

The Bull gave him a quick wink. “We’ll gather supplies and leave just before morning. It won’t tip anyone off if we all go together. We can say we’re going to clear some bandits off the roads.”

It made sense.

More so than running off alone in the dead of night, anyway.

Dorian glanced up at The Bull, frown in place. “How do I know you’re not a spy?”

The grin that immediately lit up The Bull’s face was…something.

“The Boss is discrete. I appreciate that.” Motioning to himself, The Bull leaned down. “I am a spy. Just not for Tevinter or Corypheus.”

Dorian tried to wrap his head around that. “If you’re a spy, why would you—”

“Come on, now. Of all the things I need to worry about, a Tevinter mage accusing me of being a Qunari spy is not one of them.”

Though Dorian opened his mouth to retort, the truth of it was clear enough. There was no way anyone would believe him if he accused their only qunari of being a spy for the Qun. Not when he was from the only country at war with them.

Grasping for some way to salvage his pride and out-maneuver The Bull, Dorian stood a bit straighter, motioning to him. “And how do I know the Qun doesn’t want the Inquisition dead in the water?”

“We like our world with a few less demons, too.”

As much as he would have liked to argue with The Bull until he could trip him up, it hardly seemed worth it, considering what needed to be done. Dorian held his head a bit higher as he nodded once. “Fine. We’ll do things your way.”

“Now, that’s something I like to hear.”

With that, The Bull clapped a hand down onto Dorian’s shoulder and then turned to head back to the inn. However, he’d barely made a few steps when he turned back, motioning for Dorian to come with us. “So then, about that bet…”

[salty-dracon]

T Minus Xero (All Universe Crossover) - Welcome to Stronghold Mars

“I hope the initiation wasn’t too tough. Please, take your bubbles back.” 

The woman standing in front of Brooke wore a soldier’s uniform and carried a gun on her back. Obviously a real military commander, killed in battle. She handed each of the kids their pendant bubbles, which they all immediately snapped on.

“In... itiation?” Arthur asked. “What initiation? Did you mean last night?”

“Correct.” The woman walked up to Arthur and touched Lucia’s purple pendant. “I trust she spoke to you?”

“All night.” Arthur allowed the woman to examine the pendant. “She said she missed me, and asked where I was, and if I wanted to come home, and if I loved her... ”

“No different here.” Brooke allowed the woman to examine her pendant. She could still remember Gray’s voice. It replayed in her head.

“Where are you, Brooke? Please tell me where you are... I’m so scared, Brooke... please come home, Brooke... don’t go... I miss you, Brooke... I’m sorry, please forgive me... I love you... please don’t hate me... please tell me where you are... ”

“Still thinking about him?” the woman asked. “He’ll try to get into your head. He’ll prey on your sense of guilt. Don’t ever let him do that. That’s why you’ve got to wear the bubble at all times.”

“Shouted right back at that bitch!” Julien announced proudly.

“And what did you tell her?” the woman asked, a hint of worry in her voice. 

“Told her I never wanted to come home. I had friends who loved me more than she did. Nothing about where we were or... where are we going, anyway?”

“I see Sam’s done his job as well as ever.”

Sam saluted the woman. “Thank you, Sarge.”

“We’re headed to the empty city in the distance. I assume they told you it was empty, anyway.” The woman pointed to the model city in the distance. Brooke recalled Gray’s description- a city built just for show. “The truth is, it’s not empty. It’s inhabited by kids just like you who passed the initiation.”

“So... did we?” Arthur asked.

“Not quite.” The woman turned to the kids. “If you want to join Xero, you need to have something to offer for it. We don’t have weapons to spare, you know.”

“Weapons that can be used against the angels... ” Julien pulled his entire backpack out. “I should have a lighter in here somewhere... sorry, Ame never let me have weapons... ”

“Weapons created by angels wouldn’t work against them anyway,” the Sarge explained. “It has to be something you died with.”

“I have my Swiss Army Knife, and it was in my pocket when I died.” Arthur pulled it out and showed it to the woman, who nodded.

“Lighter.” Julien pulled his lighter out. “Though I have pencils too.”

“I died with everything in this pack.” Brooke showed off her survival backpack.

“Very well. Sam, a genius as always.”

“Thanks, Sarge.” Sam smiled. “You all pass. Come on. We’ll spend the next few hours traveling to Stronghold Mars.”

----------

The crew set off a few minutes later. They walked through dense forest, with light peeking between the treetops. The city grew larger in front of them.

“So, what exactly is Xero?” Julien asked. “Heard it was someplace to escape from the angels, but what is it?”

“A coalition formed to fight against them.” Sam explained. “The angels keep humans like pets. They aren’t allowed to wander anywhere without supervision, and only exist for an angel’s enjoyment. Those collars you wear are proof. Your angels don’t love you. They’re obsessed with you. They want you all to themselves.”

To Brooke’s surprise, she didn’t hear Arthur say something to the contrary. 

Sam continued. “Of course we have adversaries. Angels want to get their kids back, and the ones who actually have their kids don’t care. For every kid we get, it’s one more enemy, unless the kids kill their angels with the weapons they have. Then, it’s one less enemy. And if an angel does manage to nab their kid somehow, they’ll still come out to support their comrades. It’s war, that’s what it is.”

“War... ” Arthur shuddered.

“You’ll be up against a million of your own, Arthur.” Sam said. “You need to take out as many as you can. And the knife makes you especially valuable.”

“How much longer?” Brooke asked.

“Hold out for a few more hours. We’ll be there soon.” 

The woman Sam referred to as “Sarge” said nothing during this time.

-----------

“Holy shit, it’s like the middle of New York!”

The teenagers’ eyes lit up as they reached the center of the city. Around them, hundreds of people, mostly teenagers and young adults, wandered around, chatting with each other on benches or basking in the sun’s light. Many of them were wearing similar uniforms- white T-shirts with the Xero logo and black shorts, pants, or skirts. A few of them saluted “Sarge” as they walked past. They were then approached by a black girl with a ponytail. 

“We’ll show you to your rooms, and then give you a tour.” Sam said.

“I’m heading to Central. Commander Giselle will want to see me.” “Sarge” pointed to a tall building a few blocks away.

“No problem, Sarge.” Sam beckoned to the kids. “Guys, come with me. Girls, August will show you to your room.”

The black girl. Brooke followed her to one end of the expansive city, while she watched her new friends walk another way.

A short walk later, they arrived at a large brick building with a number- “43″- engraved on the door. “Barrack 43. Your room is number 105. Just drop your stuff off and you’re off for the rest of the day. I’m kind of in a rush to be at central, so hurry up.” August walked away after saying these words and handing Brooke a lanyard with a key. 

Brooke walked in, found room 105 on the second floor, swiped her key, and entered. The room had two beds, but one of them was already inhabited by a girl who seemed to enjoy the beach. Her weapon of choice was nowhere to be found. The room also included a desk, a pad of sticky notes and a pencil, and a chalkboard. Brooke wrote “Hello, I’m Brooke, your new roommate! I just moved in, so please don’t touch my stuff!” before leaving her survival backpack (taking one pencil just in case) and leaving the dorm. 

------

Lucia, Gray, and Amelia faced each other- one sitting on a stone table, one leaning back in a lawn chair, and one curled up in a loveseat. 

“No one has any idea where they went?” Amelia sighed and leaned against her loveseat. “No ideas at all?”

“They went out to stargaze... ” Lucia muttered. “That’s what Arthur said... ”

“Stargaze... stargaze... but there’s no open field in the marketplace, which is where Julien said they were going. Wait. He... ” Amelia suddenly stood up. “Firewood. Julien asked me if I had any firewood.”

“That’s right.” Gray’s eyes widened. “Brooke said she needed something to light a fire with.”

“So we’re looking for the remains of a fire... ” Lucia stood up. “Come on, we need to head to the marketplace right now.”

------

“Curfew’s eleven, kids... ”

Brooke turned around. She and her two friends stared at the illuminated form of Sam. They were seated around a campfire, which Brooke was tending to. 

“Sorry.” Brooke poked the fire with a stick. “We’re just trying to settle in.”

“Fire’s great.” Julien sighed as he took in the sight. “The way it just burns away the past... like a new dawn... ”

“Campfires are so important to the human experience.” Brooke warmed her hands on the fire. “Fires were the key to evolution. And they’re a perfect place to heat up food and just... talk, y’know?”

“Flames of revolution, huh?” Sam sat down next to Arthur. “Guess it is pretty nice.”

Brooke did not feel the need to correct him.

“I feel safe like this.” Arthur warmed his hands as well. “It’s so warm... ”

“Chatting around a campfire... sure is nice.” Sam sighed. “I remember when I could chat around a campfire with my friends.”

“How did you die?” Brooke asked.

“Accident with a generator. Had my guitar with me, though.” Sam warmed his hands. 

“Wow.” Julien sighed. “And now you’re rolling as a... ”

“Sergeant. Miss T’s higher, though. She’s, like, Master Sergeant.”

“Miss T’s that woman we met at the recruitment camp, right?”

“Yup. She’s been around for a while.”

“What was your angel like?”

“Like all of ‘em.” Sam poked the fire with another stick. “Nice. She said she just wanted me to be happy. But man, there was something about her face... something that just told me that she... just wasn’t the right person to be around. I eventually got out the same way you did. I tricked my pendant.”

“Sweet.” Brooke smiled.

“Come on, it’s ten to eleven. Let’s put out this fire and get to sleep.” Sam dumped a nearby bucket of water onto the flames. “’Night, y’all.”

“Good night, Sarge.” Brooke saluted Sam before she ran off to her bunker.

-------

(AN: Yeah, this is getting out of hand. Basically everyone’s dead and in heaven, except heaven sucks. More characters will be in this series, including Michy, Bridget, Palea, and Narin if I decide to continue. And yes, Narin is Brooke’s roommate!)