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heloisedaphnebrightmore · 4 years ago

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Will you accept me? [Loki Laufeyson x Reader]

Title: Will you accept me? Pairing: Loki Laufeyson x Avenger!Female!Reader Word count: 4.1k Published: 19 May 2021 Author: Heloise Daphne Brightmore Notes: Firstly, this is my first ever Marvel fic, so go easy on me. Secondly, Infinity War and Endgame didn't happen in this house. I accept none of that. Summary: [x] In the past three years you’ve been trying refrain yourself from murdering the mischievous God, or so you have been telling yourself that. Your little game with Loki has been driving you crazy and if that wasn’t enough, you had to admit that a part of you enjoyed his company, regardless of how much you tried to hate him.

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Loki Laufeyson was nothing, but a mischievous little boy stuck in a man’s body. His mere presence lit a raging fire within you, wanting to remove that smug grin across his face. God of mischief they said countless times in the past three years, but you could only see a man who found enjoyment in dancing on your nerves.

The first time you met him, it became very clear to you that there would be no boring moments around the man, so when he left earth, you finally felt like you could breathe again as if all your frustration disappeared into thin air. You had nothing against Thor, but you wished he would just stay in one of his many realms and leave Earth forever. Of course, it had nothing to do with him per se, as far as you were concerned Thor could have stayed on Earth and it wouldn’t have bothered you. But Loki was brought along like an unwanted package, making your life miserable as though you were his little toy. So, each time Thor returned to Earth, you didn’t feel like welcoming the God of Thunder because his lap dog was attached to his hips.

As to why Tony Stark decided to give him a place to sleep in the compound, you didn’t understand, after all Loki had tried to wipe out your planet. Tony was one of those who hated Loki the most, but somewhere along the line, as though he had gone mad, he decided to give him a second chance. So, for the past 3 years you have been trying to refrain yourself from carving Loki’s eyes out, from trying to stab him in his sleep when he stayed longer than he should have. It took you a great deal of effort not to murder him in his sleep.

It doesn’t mean you haven’t tried. Oh, you did indeed. Although it took you two years to get to a point where you couldn’t handle him anymore.

One night, feeling brave or reckless, whichever is a more reasonable statement, you snuck into his room, rage building up inside you, wanting to end his miserable life. Oh, but you were naive. As you swung your dagger, stabbing it straight into his chest, it went straight through his bedding set, the astral projection of his body disappearing.

“My sly little vixen, did you really think I would make myself so vulnerable?” He asked as you looked over your shoulder, his dark form seated in the corner of his room. A proud smirk was plastered across his face, his smug smile lit by the lights towering over the large building on the outside, carefully finding their way through the blinds. “But regardless of your intent on taking my life, I’m rather pleased with your bravery,” he chuckled as he stood up and walked over to you, earning a loud groan from you as you held your dagger to his chest, this time feeling his flesh under the edge of the blade.

“I could kill you now,” you hissed through gritted teeth.

He leaned closer, his mouth right beside your ear, his cold lips brushing against your earlobe. “I dare you to,” he whispered into your ear, his hushed voice sending electricity through your spine, making your breath hitch. “I’m waiting, my little vixen,” he smirked. Although you couldn’t see it, you didn’t need to, you could read his tone, his body language, the little games he was playing. He found enjoyment in riling you up and you fell victim to him. He leaned back to be able to look in your eyes, his signature smile still plastered across his face. “You see, I understand that rage within you, feeling exhausted from our little games, but that’s only the surface. If you dig just a little deeper, you will find that even if it’s only a tiny part of your fragile mortal body, but it craves that attention, it enjoys our games. You can deny, oh you have been doing that for the past two years, but a part of you, a part that’s honest and dares to accept the truth knows that I’m right.”

A part of you wanted to argue and push the dagger further into his chest, wishing to watch his gaze become glassy, his soul moving onto Hel or Valhalla, though the latter seemed unlikely. But even against all his manipulation and tactical little games, always steps ahead of you, it was clear even to you that he was right. A part of you, even if it was hard to accept, found your shared games somewhat amusing. But you couldn’t say it out loud, you couldn’t agree with him. It would have broken the spell, the core of your entertainment. It was fun only because you never accepted to enjoy it. If you ever voiced the truth, it would have ended it all.

“You wish,” you hissed through gritted teeth as you dropped your arm beside your body. “I will have many other chances and when you expect it the least, that’s when I will be giving you a chance to go back to wherever the hell you came from,” your lips formed a thin line, your gaze holding determination. Those were the words you said aloud, but nothing like the ones you thought of. “Watch your back, Loki,” you whispered into his ear, before you headed towards the door, ready to scold yourself for the night in hopes of regaining your sanity.

“Good night, darling,” he chuckled silently as you stepped out of his room, shutting the door behind you with a loud thud. You couldn’t care less about who could have heard it, as fun as your little games were, they were also playing with your mind, leaving you flustered and frustrated. Loki affected you in many ways from your body to your mind, physically and mentally. You hated it, but at the same time, a part of you enjoyed it.

You tried to shake off the memory, but some of your encounters often appeared in your mind at the most unwanted times, as though a part of you missed him already. It’s only been months since he has left with Thor again, but since then life seemed somewhat boring. Although it was refreshing to focus solely on your duties as an Avenger and work hard for your people, but at times it felt as though there was a lack of something in you, a tiny part of emptiness.

Leaning back against the sofa, you continued to clean your guns. It was a small task that you could have entrusted F.R.I.D.A.Y. with, but this little chore brought you a sense of familiarity, a calming sensation in the midst of your storming thoughts.

“My dearest, why do you look so upset?” You heard his voice, but you didn’t look up, knowing it wasn’t reality. Another little game that your mind started to play with you, making you feel as though you were going insane. “Have I made you mad?” He chuckled playfully. You lifted your head, eyes growing wide as realisation hit you. He was indeed there. He was standing right beside Thor, wearing a smug grin, your presence seemingly bringing enjoyment to him. A part of you wanted to smile, mirror his expression, but instead you chose to play his game and rolled your eyes.

“Yes, you have. The day you decided to appear on this goddamn planet,” you groaned, concentrating back on your gun, cleaning it with a dirty cloth. Those words that left your lips weren’t the ones you wished to say. But you were afraid, terrified of being honest. You knew as soon as you admitted enjoying his company, he would stomp all over you as though you were a mere bug on the ground. A useless piece of life that he had no gain in caring for. So, you bit your tongue and played along.

“Now, now, my dear, that’s not a nice way to welcome a guest,” he smirked, raising a brow quizzically, finding your tone amusing.

“You are no guest to me,” you huffed as you placed your gun back in one piece. “You are nothing but an itch on my back, a fly circling around me, an annoying presence that I can’t seem to get rid of,” you lifted your head, meeting his emerald-green irises, their colour even brighter than you remembered. His gaze felt as though it was burning you up from the inside, your unrhythmic breathing drying your lips, your heart taking on a dangerous pace.

“Why, thank you,” his smile didn’t falter if anything it grew. “I must be doing something right if you can’t get rid of me,” he chuckled with a playful glint in his eyes. “Tell me, do you think of me often? Do you find yourself remembering all those memories we had the pleasure of spending time together?” He leaned closer, placing his hand on the small of your back, his touch making you shiver, his cold lips brushing against your ear, just like on that particular night you could never forget. “Do you think of me before you go to bed, maybe whilst you are in the shower?” He leaned back with a smug grin still painted across his face. “Or perhaps as soon as you wake up, your first thoughts are occupied by your memories of me? If I’m that hard to get rid of, I’m terribly proud of myself,” he chuckled as he let go of you and stood up. “Well, unfortunately I have to leave, but as always it’s been a pleasure meeting you,” he watched you with an intense gaze as he licked across his bottom lip, before he turned away and joined his brother.

As soon as he was out the door, you had sunk deep into the soft couch, planning a way to clear your head, because you weren’t sure how long you could play Loki’s games before you were declared completely insane. A small part of you just wanted to be honest and tell him how you really felt that indeed you enjoyed his company, that there were more to your feelings than simple entertainment, but a larger part of you knew if that ever happened, Loki would be long gone before a surprised gasp could even escape your lips.

To avert your thoughts, you decided to head to the training room and beat some sense into yourself. Trying to get rid of your frustration meant your body needed to tire out, so for hours you kept hitting and kicking the punching bags, imagining one particular person in its place. You hated him, you despised him, or so you tried to tell yourself, but that couldn’t be farther from the truth. Your feelings were indeed strong, but not of hatred, rather some sort of an attraction that you couldn’t really explain because you convinced yourself that hating him would be the logical decision, regardless of your feelings not matching your thoughts.

Time flew by quickly and before you knew it, the sun had gone down, and darkness ruled over the sky. You headed back to your room, taking a hot shower to clear your mind before you decided to grab a bottle of wine from Tony’s collection and drown yourself in your toxic thoughts. There was no escape, you might as well just give in, at least that’s how you thought.

You leaned against the kitchen counter as you opened the bottle of wine. Ignoring formalities, you didn’t take out a glass to pour yourself from the liquid, you placed it straight to your lips and chugged as much as you could, hoping it would silence your thoughts.

“Darling, you seem to be troubled,” you heard his voice, a sharp exhale leaving your lungs as you turned in his direction. He was leaning against the doorframe, wearing a small smile that you haven’t seen much of. It was usually smug or playful, but in that moment, the expression across his face just seemed soft.

“I wasn’t until you arrived,” you rolled your eyes, taking another long sip of your alcohol, trying to numb your mind.

“Shall I help you relax?” His face changed into his usually smug grin as though he was planning something.

“I think I can manage. As a mischievous God you would just cause more trouble than you could possibly help,” you huffed, knowing he always had a plan a, b, c, the whole alphabet and beyond.

“I’m not a mischievous God, I’m the God of Mischief,” he corrected you with a momentary surprise before he regained his composure.

“Same difference,” you shrugged nonchalantly, earning a silent chuckle from the man.

“If that makes you feel any better, call me whatever you want,” he stepped closer to you, stopping right in front of you as you took another sip of your drink. You watched his green eyes staring at you shamelessly, studying your face as though he was trying to read you.

“Can you stop staring?” You asked with a questioningly raised brow, but it only earned a silent chuckle from the man.

“No, I don’t wish to,” he replied as he stepped closer and with a swift movement, he turned you around. Your head shot back around over your shoulder as you met his playful gaze. “I mean no harm,” he meant to relax you, but you didn’t trust him, nor did you trust yourself in his presence. His cold fingers caused goosebumps on your neck, making you slightly shiver as he brushed your hair to one side and placed his palms on your shoulders, slowly massaging the tense muscles. You gasped at the feeling, the idea of a god massaging you felt unearthly.

“What are you doing?” You asked cautiously, although the feeling of his fingers on your skin made you feel weak in your knees, his breath fanning your skin making your heartbeat speed up. A part of you just wanted to lean into his touch and enjoy the moment.

“I’m helping you relax,” he whispered in your ear as you realised you were completely devoured by his presence. You couldn’t even recall when he leaned so close to you, you could only focus on his cold touch burning your skin.

“Why would you do that?” You questioned his intentions, a silent gasp leaving your lips as he found a tender point.

“Do I always have to have an ulterior motive?” He asked, but you could hear the proud smile in his tone. You turned back around, a deadpan look across your face, his touch leaving your skin.

“Do you really want me to answer that?” You asked, squinting suspiciously.

“Fine, I’m often motivated by certain ideas, but that doesn’t mean I can’t be genuinely helpful,” he tried to convince you, but you shook your head.

“Loki, what do you want?” you tried to just finish the conversation to drown yourself in your bottle of wine.

“How long has it been?” He asked, earning a confused frown from you.

“What are you talking about?” You tried to take a step back, but the kitchen counter stopped your movements.

“How long have you been pretending to hate me when in fact you know it couldn’t be farther from the truth?” His face fell serious, his previously playful expression long gone.

“I haven’t been pretending. It’s not my fault that you think it’s a game. I hate you and I think I made myself very clear from the first time we met,” you attempted to convince him, but his smile returned even wider than before.

“Still adamant I see,” he scoffed as he stepped closer, his arms caging you against the furniture behind you, his face getting closer to yours, only leaving just enough space for you to be able to breath. “So, you mean to tell me that my presence doesn’t affect you in any other way, it only brings you hatred?” He asked as his gaze wandered down to your lips, watching them intensely as though he was an animal wanting to catch his prey. Your breath hitched as his arm wrapped around your waist and pulled you against his chest, a silent gasp leaving your lips as you shivered in his cold touch, still your skin burned feverishly.

“That— that’s right,” you stumbled through your words, your own confidence leaving you vulnerable.

“For once, be honest with me, dear and accept that you enjoy my company,” he whispered against your lips, your mind feeling dizzy, incapable of forming a simple, coherent sentence.

“I— That’s not— I hate you,” you finally composed yourself and pushed him away from yourself.

“Why can’t you just accept it?” He asked, this time more serious than before. “Why is it so hard for you to be honest with yourself?”

“Says you, who can’t be trusted even when you ask a question? Oh, please, Loki, you should know better,” you huffed as you folded your arms in front of your chest. “You say I should accept that I like being around you, that I don’t hate you as much as I say so. But why would I do that?” You asked as you walked up to him this time, standing in front of him sternly. “Let’s say, hypothetically of course, that indeed I don’t hate you per se and a part of me might enjoy being around you from time to time. If that was true, why would it be beneficial for me to accept it? I know you Loki and if I was to agree and say you were right, you would walk all over me and disappear faster than I could take a breath,” you huffed as you shook your head.

“Well, my little vixen, hypothetically speaking,” he started in a humorous tone, “if you stopped acting like you have no feelings for me and finally accepted that your hatred might not even be hatred but something more, we could actually break down this wall between us that you so carefully built and we could enjoy being in each other’s company,” he explained as though it was the most natural thing.

“Loki, you can’t possibly believe your own words,” you scoffed, earning a surprised expression from the man, your resistance catching him off guard.

“And why is that?” He asked curiously.

“The only reason you enjoy playing around with me is because I behave the way I do. In reality, nothing is black and white and so if I was to hypothetically enjoy your company, that means there would be disagreements, there would be fights, there would be emotions and Loki, let’s be honest, you find it even harder to trust people than I do and as soon as things would turn serious, you’d run,” you explained your worries. Even though the conversation was supposed to be theoretical, both of you spoke the truth, but the lack of trust hung high in the air.

“If that was my intention, I would have run a long time ago. I had the option to do so many times before, but I’m still here, am I not?” He asked as he brushed a piece of hair from your face behind your ears, his touch sending electricity through your body.

“I just feel like I can’t trust you,” you shook your head, letting your face fall forward, massaging the bridge of your nose, before you lifted your gaze again “I feel like if hypothetically speaking of course, I accept that there’s more to it than simple hatred, it will end in my feelings stomped on and my heart crushed into piece and I’m not naive enough to let that happen,” you tried to reason with him, but in reality you were trying to convince yourself why not to put your trust in him.

“I have to admit, I would have done so, years ago that is, but the one who I am now wants nothing more than to claim you mine,” he spoke in an endearing tone, his voice serious, but somewhat caring, unlike his usually cocky personality. Your eyes widened at the confession, his words ones you never thought you would ever hear from someone like him. “If it was someone else, I wouldn’t care what happens to them, I’m not a saint after all, but with you it’s different. You are my sly little vixen, my other half and nothing and no one can change that, only you if you wish to of course,” his voice was barely a whisper as he spoke, his words making you feel uncertain about what to do. Your mind and your heart battled against each other, confusing you further. “Will you accept me finally?” He asked with an expectant expression.

“I have been trying to stop myself from murdering you for the past three years, it’s not as simple,” you tried to argue, but the words leaving your lips were more to convince yourself.

“Well, that is very romantic,” he replied with a low chuckle as you mirrored his expression. “That’s a good start,” he pointed out the smile across your face. “I’m not saying it will be easy, nor do I see it will be perfect, but isn’t it worth a try?” As much as you wanted to argue, he was right. If you didn’t accept your feelings, it would forever be a ‘what if’ stuck in your head and deep down you knew you wanted to see where you two could go from there.

You stepped closer to him, placing your hands on his chest to balance yourself, or so that was the plan, but as soon as you touched him, your hands went through his body, his astral body disappearing. “Loki!” You raised your voice in a warning tone, your deadly gaze looking for the man, his silent chuckle coming from behind you. You turned around in a swift motion, hitting him across the chest with gritted teeth both out of frustration and testing if it was his real self this time.

“I’m so sorry, love, I wasn’t sure how you would react, you can be rather unpredictable at times, so I had to have a backup plan,” he tried to explain himself, piling up excuses upon excuses. “But now that we are on the same page, we could get back to what you were trying to do. Did you want to kiss me? It looked like you were about to kiss me. Shall we try again?” He smirked proudly as he stepped closer and wrapped his strong arms around you. You tried to resist, attempting to push him away from your body, but his strength was unearthly, you didn’t stand much of a chance.

“Not happening. That was your one and only time to see a weaker side of mine. I don’t even believe what you ask anymore. I hate you, Loki!” You groaned, trying to get out of his hold.

“No, you don’t,” he replied with a smug grin across his face, dipping his head down to your level, but he didn’t move any closer. Your breath stuck in your lungs, your gaze fixed on his lips, however you tried to battle against your heart, your reasonable thoughts flew out the window as soon as Loki closed the gap between the two of you. His cold lips touched yours, sending a shiver across your spine, thousands of butterflies awakening in your stomach. Could you have resisted? Yes, if you really wanted to. But deep down you were craving for him and when his lips met yours, you melted into his arms and bathed in the physical pleasure his arms around you provided, the feel of his touch on your skin burning, a long-awaited connection bonding the two of you. As you finally parted, you gazed up into his green eyes, a loving look painted across his face.

“I still hate you though,” you added with a mischievous smile, as he mirrored yours.

“You really should watch that tongue of yours,” he warned you as his gaze fell on your lips.

“Why don’t you watch it for me?” You asked with an inviting tone and without a second thought Loki captured your lips again. It was hard to believe that he was holding you in his arms, but you chose to trust him and even though you knew there would be difficulties with the God of Mischief, a proud man being your other half, but not for a second did you think about taking a step back. It just felt right.

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crimsonrae · 4 years ago

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Reckless Intent: Part Two

Summary: When the dance between Sherlock and Delia first began, learning the steps did not come smoothly. But then that would happen when affections haven’t been made clear and a murderer is on the loose.

SherlockXOFC

Rating: M

Warning: Some manhandling, allusions to nudity.

A/N: Set about ten years before the events in Enola. Sherlock has only been away from home for about three years. So this is more from Sherlock’s point of view and I had fun with this, because despite how intelligent he is, I think that he would still be lost to a woman’s way of thinking or reacting. Also there will be a part three. A culmination if you will of all my teasing : )

Reckless Intent: Part Two

It had taken more time than he would have liked to get the bestial efflux that had swarmed his blood to calm.

Sherlock pulled a long-drawn breath through his nose as he silently counted the seconds until a certain menace in the shape of woman appeared by his side. Never had he met someone who could stir his anger so easily. She made him want to rage, to shake her until sense fell into that cob she called a mind. How she could incite him with just a few well-placed words was boggling.

Yet, images of Delia on that stage danced before his eyes as he waited outside the club. The hint of cleavage through the feathers of her fan, the shapely curve of her thigh... Lust had seared his veins at the unexpected display of her womanly assets. His palms had itched with the need to cup her silky flesh, to leave his mark on her unblemished hide, and pull the most melodic notes of pleasure from her dainty throat. His manhood had hardened with a demand that only her tempting hole could satisfy.

And had they been alone?

Had the ravenous stares and drunken jeering of the swine inside not been present... he would have taken her there on that staged. He would have answered her teasing seduction, shown her what happened when such a flag was waved before a bull.

But they hadn’t been alone. He wasn’t the only one to gaze upon her bare flesh and that was unforgivable. Fury still spurned his veins, only the remembrance of their kiss tempered his lingering ire.

Sherlock bit back a groan as he tried to ignore the memory of the delightful contrast of her wired nest against her smooth skin and her heat... his fingers had been brushed by her desirous warmth, had felt the hint of her promising dewy depths. He marveled that he hadn’t sunk into her depths there and then. Her protest to his advances had been meek at best. There was no doubt in his mind that his Delia was a wanton... but she was his wanton. It was high time that he made his claim known.

He would not tolerate another incident such as this.

His fingers flexed and tightened over the head of his cane, releasing the frustrated bur that Delia so expertly pricked in him. It wouldn’t do to walk the streets with an erection like an adolescent boy. As if she knew his struggle, Delia appeared at his elbow only to add oil to his smoldering flame. Her frock covered little more of her chest than her stage attire.

His nostrils flared with annoyance. Even her hair was still unrestrained, her curls falling loose about her shoulders, “That was longer than ten minutes.”

Delia arched a brow at him, unimpressed by his dour reproach, “Yet, you didn’t come back for me. You should be pleased.”

His glare was glacial, but she refused to simper –stubborn mule of a woman.

Sherlock snatched her elbow before she had a chance to send another volley. The firm grip teetered on the edge of impropriety, but it was hardly the most improper act that either one of them had committed so far. He nudged her forward, refusing to speak further until they were away from this infernal club.

Luckily, Delia took the hint as she adjusted her arm in his grip and fell into step. It wasn’t lost on him that she had quickly masked the aggressive undertones of their current meeting. It no longer looked as if he were dragging an unruly woman through the street but had taken to escorting a potential paramour. Strangely, they fell somewhere in between the two paradigms.

They swept down the dimly lit streets with marked silence. He, still simmering, unwilling to vent his anger where it could be heard by the restless populace of London and she – he darted a glance to his companion – she was remarkably stoic. Her features serene as if nothing was amiss, but the darkened hue to her cheeks and the tense set to her jaw belied her discomfort... or perhaps her anticipation.

Sherlock wasn’t sure which beset her and ignored the little voice in his ear that whispered it was the later. He had decided long before he had exited the club that his baser urges would be denied that night. Far more pressing concerns needed to be addressed before he conducted any further intimate explorations of her body.

As if she knew where his thoughts had led, Delia smirked dimly as he prodded her up the steps to his apartments. He wanted nothing more than to steal that smile from her face and it wasn’t until the door clicked firmly shut that he began his attack, “Have you lost your damn mind? Did you even for one minute think about what would happen to you in that place?”

“Sherlock -”

“No.” He continued as if he hadn't heard her, “You didn’t. You’re lucky I was there – that I even had an inkling to show up. Else wise you would’ve ended up like your friend or worse on your back -”

SMACK.

Fire laced up the side of his face as he felt the imprint of her palm reverberate through the bone of his cheek. Glowering he turned back to her and found Delia torn between shock at her actions and indignant.

Her breath came fast as she spat, “You are not my keeper, Sherlock Holmes. If you’re not going to discuss this case, say so now and I will take my leave.”

Sherlock smiled grimly, “Oh, I am taking the case, Delia. I’ve said as much already. And you’re right, I’m not your keeper. I’m far more than that and you will acknowledge it before the night is over.”

“How dare you!” Indignation seemed to have won out in his little menace as she hissed, “To make such assumptions based on one measly kiss... I would think such acts beneath you. Impervious king that you are.”

Volatile.

Rash.

Words that could be used to describe both of them in that moment, Sherlock noted distantly. He fought to keep a hold of his temper. He had pushed her tonight and she had already been walking a tightrope by going undercover in that club. He shouldn’t be surprised that the bewilderment and anger she had carefully kept under lock and key had been released now.

However, he was sure that he had made his intentions clear long before his stolen kiss, in fact he was sure of it. A resounding crack echoed through the foyer, stunning both occupants as the head of Sherlock’s cane fell from its body. He hadn’t realized how tightly he had been gripping the implement or even that he was still holding it.

He cast the ruin staff aside with a barely contained growl, “One measly kiss?”

He prowled forward like a stalking jaguar, “Is that what you think I based my assumptions on?”

Delia, to her credit, did not cower from him as she lifted her chin defiantly, “I think you saw naked flesh and responded as all men do.”

Again, Sherlock wondered if she could read minds. Hadn’t his thoughts dwelled upon her wicked display before she had arrived at his side? But she was very mistaken if she thought that his reaction was merely a result of her dance... No, his interest in Delia Woodson had started long before this night.

“Blue myosotis.”

Delia blinked, her confusion apparent by his pointed delineation, “Pardon?”

“Blue myosotis.” Sherlock repeated definitively, “Or more commonly – forget-me-nots. You pinned them to my lapel three months, one week, and two days ago. After that murdered child was found by the docks. I was upset, but you...you were the only one to notice. You saw through the impassivity that I had carefully cultivated to keep myself detached.”

He refused to use the word impervious.

His voice grew soft, “You pinned the flower to my lapel and said, ‘It’s a small token, Mr. Holmes, but colorful – bright. You need a little of that I think.’ I knew I loved you then.... and the flower you chose? More than appropriate for that realization. I doubt you knew but forgot-me-not's represent true love.”

Stricken with shock, Delia could only gape at the unexpected confession, “I - Sherlock.”

“So, yes, Delia. I am far more than your keeper.” He continued stoutly, daring her to interrupt, to protest his words, “And not yet your lover, but that state will be rectified soon enough I’d wager. And no, our kiss had little to do with your irreverent show, though I do wish it had been under different circumstances, I don’t regret it.”

He could see her floundering. By not hiding from the truth, nor ignoring his earlier actions he had stripped bare any defensive armor she had managed to cobble together in their brief time apart. And he had finally acknowledge the elephant that he had been alluding to all night. He didn’t need to hear the words reciprocated – he knew she felt the same, though she hadn’t realized it until he had accosted her in that club. He had seen the moment she comprehended where her affections laid.

His hand came up to grasp her chin as he made sure that he fully held her attention, “And such antics will not occur ever again. I won’t stand for it and your bottom won’t sit for it, should you attempt such an act.”

Her eyes widened at his pointed threat, knowing he was serious her defiance flickered at him. Sherlock nearly grumbled. Why did he have to fall in love with the most obtuse woman on the bloody planet?

“This...” She drew a calming breath and laced her delicate fingers over the top his that still grasped her chin, “This is not talk of the case.”

Dull amusement laced through him at her poor deflection, but he took his cue and drew back a step, “I garnered several leads while you were performing. I’ll be able to more thoroughly investigate tomorrow. I haven’t forgotten about your Margaret.”

“What leads?”

Sherlock shook his head in the face of her hungry interest. She had taken far too many risks as it were for this case, “No. You want me to take this case and investigate? Then my price is that you stay out of it.”

“But -”

“You were reckless tonight.” Sherlock vented, his anger rising back to the top. She hadn’t seen the men that had watched her – followed her, but he had. Not all of her audience had been lustful brigands. His little menace had made no secret of her inquiry into her friend’s death, “Purposefully, I’m certain.”

Her lip jutted out temptingly and he nearly cracked a smile in the face of her pout, “She’s my friend, Sherlock. Surely, I deserve to know – to help.”

“You will stay out of it. That’s my price – take it or leave it, Delia.” He stated resoundingly, unwilling to budge on this point. He would fill her in once he had solved the crime and the murderer was being carted off by Scotland Yard, but not a second before that occurred.

Delia huffed as she dared ask, “And if I refuse and continue to investigate on my own?”

Sherlock stiffened at her challenge as he raised an unimpressed brow and smiled thinly, “Oh, I dare you to try. You won’t make it out that door, I can promise you that.”

“I have to leave some time; I don’t live here.” She muttered lowly, after all he only had just started his investigation.

“Yet.” Sherlock returned arrogantly as he stepped towards the stairs, “Mrs. Hudson!”

The shadow of his housekeeper appeared at the top of the stairs within seconds. He had no doubt that she had heard every word passed between himself and Delia, but ever discreet the matronly woman had waited until he beckoned. Draped in her robe and bonnet, he felt a stirring of guilt for having disturbed her slumber with his return, but even still as she blandly met his stare – he couldn’t help the mischievous spark that entered his mien.

“Please ready the guestroom. Miss. Woodson will be staying here tonight.” Loathe as he was to have her out of his sight, Sherlock knew they needed space. Too much had occurred in a sort time span and to be perfectly frank he needed a moment away from the weight of her presence. He needed to recoup.

“That’s not necessary.” Delia started softly.

Sherlock barely contained a weary sigh, “It’s late and I’m not in the mood to escort you back to Hoxton.”

She blinked, bemusement once again piercing her features, “How did you know - ?”

Sherlock didn’t deign to answer. To say he wasn’t thrilled that she lived in such a horrid area was a vast understatement, but he had to admit that it was a step above White Chapel and far better than Old Nichol. Another situation he would soon need to rectify.

“I’ll have warm water brought to your room.” He said instead, “Rest. We’ll speak more in the morning when calmer heads prevail.”

Delia stared at him with an expression he couldn’t decipher but found that the calm he had just manage to reclaim was rapidly deteriorating. His heart lurched and the familiar itch to his palms returned as she stepped back into his sphere.

“Delia...”

“You followed me. You accosted me. Kissed me. Protected me. Took a case that is boring just to make me happy -”

“Keep you out of trouble -”

“Told me that you love me.” She continued as if he hadn’t spoken and soundly shut him up.

Delia smiled then. A small smile, but so bright before she leant up on her toes and claimed a kiss so gentle that it stole his breath.

Unconsciously, his fingers latched into the folds of her gown as he pulled her closer and deepened the kiss. The supple swell of her lips felt like silk under the brush of his tongue. She tasted sweet, like honey and tea. She moaned lowly and a pleased growl rumbled through his chest at the sound.

They must have stood like that for only a few seconds, but it felt like an eternity.

Delia, as tenderly as she had approached him, broke away again and started up the stairs. Sherlock could only watch after her dazed.

She paused halfway up and glanced at him over her shoulder, “And you send me to the guestroom? You’re an odd man, Sherlock Holmes.”

She disappeared over the landing and Sherlock was left in stunned amusement. He had half a mind to go after her. Her teasing knew no bounds it seemed... but despite her words, he knew she was virginal, and he planned to take his time divesting her of that chaste state.

However, he should have known that Delia had no such patience...

Damn her.

Previous Chapter

#Sherlock Holmes #sherlock holmesxofc #enola holmes #henry cavill #fanfiction #fanfic

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07planetarium · 3 years ago

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📂💻🔬💭📖

i'm not going to deny myself the joy of reading anymore! i've realized that my life, both personally & as a [writer-student-daughter-sister-etc], will always be enriched when i nourish myself with knowledge, whether it’s formal or not. setting a clear intention to read more also gives way to me having a respite from being too caught up in a cycle of chasing instant gratification through social & mass media, which is a trap i fall into often. this year, in addition to the poetry & fiction i've been reading, i make it my intention to read more nonfiction -- especially those concerning theory (degrowth, socialism, etc), science (actually read the books on cognitive science i have catalogued; more critical examination of why the tech industry is like that, more space books), and indonesian history + poetry (i want to finally open the black curtains blowing in the wind and see the harsh light beyond it cheeky self-reference there but also please read my article i’m really proud of it!!!). all these topics i have had an interest in, but have never really delved deeper to due to time & mental constraints in the years past. i want to ensure a deeper understanding rather than just a surface-level acknowledgment. i'm very much so hoping that i read beyond this list, though! especially articles that i save into my notion reading list.

books i'm reading + i’ll be at literal in terms of book-logging! ( *^-^)ρ(^0^* )

Devotions by Mary Oliver Future Histories by Lizzie O'Shea Braiding Sweetgrass by Robin Wall Kimmerer (going to buy from transit after i finish reading devotions!) I Am My Own Home, by Isyana Artharini Are Prisons Obsolete? by Angela Davis Capitalist Realism: Is There No Alternative? by Mark Fisher Invisible Planets: Contemporary Chinese Science Fiction in Translation by Ken Liu The Jakarta Method: Washington's Anti-Communist Crusade and the Mass Murder Program that Shaped Our World by Vincent Bevins The Night Tiger by Yangsze Choo Mr. Penumbra's 24-Hour Bookstore by Robin Sloan (bought secondhand from lesens!!! slay) Nostalgi = Transendensi by Toety Heraty (bought a first editition from a seller on sh^pee! thank you nabsy) Membisikkan Bekal untuk Perjalanan yang Sangat Jauh: Pendekatan Feminis dalam Kerja Seni Budaya by various writers, with the support of Peretas (Perempuan Lintas Batas) and Puan Seni (Jaringan Seni Perempuan) The Case for Degrowth by Federico Demaria, Susan Paulson, Giorgis Kallis, Giacomo D′Alisa Deaf Republic: Poems by Ilya Kaminski Psychopolitics: Neoliberalism and New Technologies of Power by Byung-Chul Han The Stars My Destination by Alfred Bester Indigenous Species by Khairani Barokka Experiments in Imagining Otherwise by Lola Olufemi Women Of The Fertile Crescent: An Anthology Of Modern Poetry, edited by Kamal Boullata The Idea of the Brain: The Past and Future of Neuroscience by Matthew Cobb Kiri Asia Tenggara: Pembacaan Ulang atas Beberapa Tokoh dan Karya, edited by Jafar Suryomenggolo Dark Matter by Blake Crouch The Order of Time by Carlo Rovelli Matahari Yang Mengalir by Dorothea Rosa Herliany Gambar Kesunyian di Jendela: Kumpulan Puisi by Shinta Febriany

this list is probably gonna be updated & reorganized a lot, i’m also trying to note if i bought a copy / have a digital file with me... this are only the books i’m planning to read that fall under the areas i’m actively making an effort to read more of, but i’m definitely gonna have other books especially novels that i’m just itching to read + serendipity finds! i.e. home fire by kamila shamsie, yoon ha lee’s novels & works... u get the gist.

+ 2023: since i feel like this period of my life is still ongoing, this post will serve as a benchmark for the years after also hehe.

#mine #reading list #i havent felt this alive since.... the beginning months of 2020 lolol #routine intention etc

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novantinuum · 4 years ago

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Trollhunters alt timeline AU concept:

Okay, so since I’ll never have the emotional energy to Write It in full, I just want to share my wild ass Trollhunters alt timeline AU, inspired by that chaos ride of a movie.

Disclaimer: Personally speaking, I actually enjoyed the RotT movie for the absolutely absurdist, emotion-murdering storyline it was. I can certainly say that it... (and in fact, Wizards too) most definitely doesn’t follow the ToA personal canon I hold in my heart, BUT- I don’t consider my idea a “fix-it” because I strongly dislike using that term myself. In all its imperfection, canon simply is what it is, and thus my idea is instead just a wild little AU concept, because thinking about what-ifs is fun. However, given that self-indulgence is a hoot, this is also my way of molding a plotline where some of my favored elements get to play in to everything.

Beginnings:

This AU diverges from the very end of the RotT movie.

So… from my reading of the last scene, one could argue that Jim’s canon decision to return to before he picked up the amulet and avoid picking it up again was born out of a sense of failure… a feeling that he failed as a hero because he wasn’t there to save his best friend from dying. He kinda wished himself (as he is, as the Trollhunter) away in a “It’s a Wonderful Life” type manner, hoping that by simply allowing someone else to take up the mantle, maybe things could end up better.

In this AU, instead of sending himself back to before he picked up the amulet, Jim’s last spoken desire before he uses the time crystal is a stubborn, confident assertion. Not doubting his own ability as the Trollhunter, but resolving to save all his friends in whatever way he can.

And he’s going to do this starting from Draal.

However, there’s a catch. This time crystal… powerful magic like this always poses consequences. And once he uses it, he discovers that the terms of this second chance are that no one can ever find out that this previous world ever existed. Jim is alone in his knowledge. He must tread carefully. Should anyone ever discover this secret… cataclysm will occur.

Time will shatter.

No pressure, or anything.

Timeline 2.0:

Future Jim is shucked back to his old body somewhere amidst early season 3. His first goal is keeping Draal alive. His foreknowledge of Angor Rot’s involvement in Merlin’s tomb will aid them greatly in how to better protect his friends.

His second goal... is one that he’s kinda of two minds about, but knows is desperately necessary for the fights he’ll face in the future. He’ll of course have to become a half-troll again. Thankfully, this go around it’s entirely his choice, and he knows it’s coming. That transition will be easier. Along with this... he knows he’ll have to somehow manage to keep ahold of his amulet. He can’t let the Arcane Order destroy it, and he can’t let them take control of him. If he stands any chance of being on top of his game in the early stages of their eventual fight against the titans, he’ll need to keep both that AND remain half-troll.

His challenge early on: Jim is stuck in the very awkward position of having to play chess master with events that he’s already lived through, so as to attain the same old victories WHILE ensuring all of his allies come out alive this time around... and WHILE not cluing anyone else in on the fact that he knows their futures. The stress involved with that is immense, and there’s bound to be instances in which he’s very clumsy with how he manages this. One of the largest early consequences of this second timeline is that he grows more emotionally distant from his friends and allies, especially those who had died in the original timeline... because after all, it’s almost as if he’s walking among ghosts, right now.

I honestly don’t know exactly how Wizards would shift because I haven’t seen it in eons, but Jim still has to ensure they end up in the past, right? Since he knows they’re a part of the past for better or for worse. He isn’t injured this time around, he likely has been hiding his amulet while back there, and there’s no beast Jim situation because the Arcane Order hasn’t wrest control of him. That’s all I know at the moment.

But yeah, those earlier battles end in victory (or partial victory, since of course the Arcane Order are a slippery bunch)... all allies are still alive... Jim remains half-troll by the beginning of the events of RotT in timeline 2.0...

HOWEVER.

Because of Jim’s extreme focus on keeping his friends- Nomura, Nari, Strickler, Toby- alive... because of how bonds within the group have weakened from his emotional distance... his second go at trying to stop complete armaggeddon is an entire failure.

Nari is saved, but they fail at stopping the other two titans. The world is set to be reborn in ice and fire. Jim has failed, once again. It’s at this moment that in a fit of frustration and rage, he lets his secret slip... accidentally reveals what was supposed to remain hidden... that this is his Second Time experiencing this.

Time shatters.

And then, the whole of creation falls silent. On pause, for Jim’s eyes only.

At this point in this AU story, since I am super self indulgent, I want to do a literal God from the Machine. Because I had a concept flash into my mind... a concept of a literal ancient deity rising from a deep sleep to set her attention upon the mess these mortals have created. All she appears as is bright, blinding light, and an echoing, sonorous voice.

When Jim asks her identity, she simply replies that she is the First Spark. The origin of all life, light, and magic. She has many names… names that countless souls have used to name their young in unknowing reverence… but one in particular that he might recognize.

Deya.

This goddess is the embodiment of daylight and creation, and the sword Jim wields? The armor? It is essentially made of her body. Her power. Her essence. Stripped away and used for whatever purpose mortals desired whilst she slept. How egotistical, she thinks, that Merlin directed all glory towards himself, rather than to the deity that allowed for his use of magic in the first place.

And so Deya reveals that she aims to clean up this cataclysm by returning the world to its original state. The original timeline. The one where this world hasn’t been destroyed in a horrible cataclysm. Jim, of course… immediately protests. Brings up all the hard, desperate days he lived just to get this far, just to save his closest friends and family. Begs her to do something, ANYTHING to help.

And eventually… the goddess offers up a choice. She’ll agree to restore the individuals who were dead in the original timeline, weaving the living souls of those in the second timeline into the first… but. To provide consequence for the disastrous mess mortal kind made, she refuses to use such power of resurrection in a “pick and choose” sort of manner. If she’s going to resurrect Jim’s allies, then she’s going to resurrect his enemies too. Everyone who has died throughout his journey will be brought back, no matter their alignment with the Trollhunter team.

Now, in order to save everyone, Jim must once again risk re-igniting the same conflicts with many of these foes all over again... except this time, in new paradigms and patterns that even he cannot predict. Is it worth it, for his friends? For the ones he loves?

Endgame:

Jim makes the deal. All the dead are restored. As time begins to flow again, they stand in the rubble of the titan they destroyed in timeline one. Jim feels great anxiety at the thought of the last two members of the Arcane Order being alive once more, but at very least the titans they piloted are no more. They’d have to come up with a new plan of attack now, if they had their hearts set on the same goal.

Toby is alive. So is Strickler, Nomura, Draal, Nari... Those who were dead, however... quickly realize that they remember dying. Those who remained alive in both timelines realize that they possess memories of both. Certain relationships will likely be rocky and strained for the first while.

Somewhere on this planet, old foes, old allies, and unpredictable agents alike have returned from the cold grasp of death with a shock. It’s anyone’s guess what new rivalries, alliances, and driving plans will emerge this time. At the very least, however... team Trolhunters is intact... and they’re more than willing to face this new, unpredictable future once more, wherever it leads. Together, hand-in-hand.

Fin.

#trollhunters #tales of arcadia #rise of the titans #jim lake jr #my post stuff #toa spoilers

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ezrisdax-archive · 4 years ago

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krantt

for #trilogyappreciationweek, with thanks to @wlwkiranerys and @rannochs for being my sound board.

The one where Wrex doesn’t adopt Tali (except he kinda does) also here on ao3

Everyone on the Normandy was young to Wrex. The thing about being a Krogan was that it gave you a different perspective on age. Excluding the Asari, all species burnt out bright and quick to him. But even Liara was just a kid to him, not even 200 yet.

From what he knew about Quarians however Tali was young to them too. He'd met a few Quarians on pilgrimages before; their version of the Rite of Passage from what he gathered. Except with less Thrasher maws.

Well there was one on the planet they'd gotten a distress beacon from. That probably counted.

But unlike the Rite of Passage you did it alone; not a krantt to rely on like Krogans had. Seemed lonely.

So Wrex may have decided somewhere after that mission to keep an eye on the young Quarian. She wasn't so bad. Understood all his grumbling about the Council and the bullshit they put his species through.

Though at least his species hadn't released an intelligent robot race onto the galaxy that now worshipped some old machine.

Still Tali was okay.

She just had to remain alive to be okay.

Wrex sighed as he watched her clean her shotgun. He rubbed a hand over his jaw, scratching lightly with his gloves.

"Where'd you learn how to fire that anyway?" He asked.

Tali jumped at his voice, the light in her helmet that indicated she was talking lit up when she yelped.

"Wrex! Don't sneak up on me!" Tali scolded but then her shoulders fell like she expected a scolding of her own.

Wrex merely stared.

"I..." Tali began, her nervousness coming through her tone even without facial expressions to go off on. "My father taught me. He's an Admiral." There was a touch of reverence and regret in her voice. "As his daughter I was expected to learn. Our ship could have been boarded by Geth at any moment."

Wrex hummed, loudly enough it echoed in the quiet cargo bay. Thankfully it was late enough most of the crew was asleep.

"Makes sense." He inclined his head a little in acknowledgement. "Guess the Quarians would have reason to know all that."

"We may not be the Krogan but we've seen our fair share of battles. You've seen me fight, I can handle myself." Tali practically bristled from where she sat, angry and petulant. Wrex wondered idly how many times she'd been forced to prove herself to others that it was this touchy a subject.

"Didn't say you couldn't. Could use a few tricks though."

Tali paused, caught off guard. "Oh? Like what?" If she was trying to aim for casual she failed. The curiosity shone through and her leg bounced like she could hardly contain herself.

Wrex huffed in amusement and then pulled out his own shotgun.

"Lemme show you." He said and aimed at Garrus' locker. The shot fired and he reloaded with ease, firing off another shot a second later.

Tali was up in an instant, "How did you reload so fast?" She asked in one breath, the words blending together.

Wrex chuckled, "Old trick I learned. Here, watch the wrist, keep an eye on my right finger."

"I'm not sure Garrus would like us using his locker for practice." Tali said even as she inched closer to do what he'd asked.

"Oh no an upset Turian. I'm real broken up about that." Wrex's voice was as dry as ever and Tali snorted in amusement. "Now come on, I don't got all night."

Tali stepped closer still and watched carefully as Wrex did the trick over again.

"Does anyone know what happened to my locker?" Garrus asked the next morning and Tali choked on her drink.

She'd procured straws from somewhere though Wrex wasn't sure where.

"No idea." Tali said a moment after, clearing her throat.

"Maybe someone got tired of elevator conversations." Wrex suggested, leaning back in his chair with a toothy grin.

"Point taken." Garrus grumbled, "You could have just said so. Now I'll have to spend the morning replacing my locker door."

"I'll help." Tali offered and she sounded guilty. She was fidgeting again in her seat, a telling trait.

Garrus stared at Wrex who just stared back, the grin still on his face.

“Fine. Thanks Tali. I suppose that’s about all I can ask for.” Garrus was still looking at Wrex.

He rolled his eyes. “Look Garrus, you want a favour come right out and ask it.”

Garrus made an indignant noise. “I don’t think it’s a favour if I’m asking for help to fix something you wrecked.”

“Allegedly.” Wrex said and shifted in his seat just a little so his shotgun was in view.

Garrus took the warning and fled, muttering about Krogan as he did.

“Is that how Krogan always end a conversation? Showing off a shotgun?” Tali asked.

“Nah, usually there’s more bloodshed.”

“And it’s not even noon.”

“Give it time.”

Tali was back in the cargo bay that night and while she’d set up one of the targets that was officially there for practicing she wasn’t firing at it but struggling with the reloading trick Wrex had been showing her.

“Any luck?”

Tali jumped at the sound of his voice again and turned to face him. “You know for someone so large you’re very light on your feet.”

“Large?” Wrex shot back, “Something you want to say to me, Quarian?”

“No.” Tali said quickly. “Um, just, you know. You are a Krogan and I haven’t met many but they are all large and-”

“Relax, kid.” Wrex cut off her rambling before it went on too long. “I knew what you meant.”

“Oh.” Tali sighed with relief and then her shoulders shot back up. “I’m not a kid you know.”

“Everyone’s a kid to me on here.” Wrex waved off her concern. “When you live as long as I have it happens.”

“Ah.” Tali said. “I suppose that would happen. I can’t imagine living for hundreds of years, you must be old to the Krogan though.”

“First I’m large, now I’m old?” Wrex snorted. “You sure know how to flatter someone.”

He couldn’t see it but he was willing to bet under his mask Tali was cringing.

“Shouldn’t you be asleep anyway?” Wrex asked.

Tali shifted on her feet, “I can’t. It’s too quiet. Quarian ships are rather full, here it’s…” She trailed off but the fact that nothing could be heard around them, not even the hum of the engines, told Wrex everything.

Suddenly the ship felt empty and, he was sure from Tali’s perspective, lonely.

Wrex sighed, the weight of responsibility falling on him.

“You know I’m not the oldest Krogan by a long shot.” Wrex finally said, sitting down on one of the crates next to them. “There’s this ancient guy, Drack. Comes from Clan Nakmor, they’re not as big as Clan Urdnot of course but there’s a lot of them. Somehow this guy survived the Krogan Rebellions.”

“Really?” Tali asked, taking the seat next to him and crossing her legs and setting her shotgun down next to her. “I didn’t think any Krogan had survived since then.”

“There’s a few still around, some of us are just hard to kill.”

“Like you?”

“Anything that can kill me deserves it. If it can get to me first.”

“But there’s so much of you to shoot.” Tali said and her voice was teasing.

“Is this how Quarian’s live as long as they do? By being so small nothing can hit them?” Wrex asked drily.

“Hey!”

“Course one lucky shot and you’re gone. Lacking redundant systems must suck. That guy, Drack, had most of his replaced. Pretty sure he’s only still alive because Kesh would kill him otherwise.” Wrex had met Kesh a few times, once thought of her as the runt of a litter like most had. Then she’d punched him in the face and stolen his equipment from his camp. That was the thing about underestimating people, they could always surprise you.

Wrex glanced over at Tali who was swaying a little where she sat, clearly tired.

“That and he had his krantt back in the Krogan rebellions.”

“What’s a krantt?” Tali asked and then yawned loud enough Wrex could hear her jaw crack even through the helmet.

“Hard to explain it to outsiders.” Wrex admitted, grumbling a little that he felt the need to even explain it. “They’re your allies, ones you can rely on even more than family. They’ll be there to watch your back, like in the Rite of Passage.”

His krantt had died when his father betrayed him and had them all murdered before him. Wrex got his revenge but the wound was still there.

“So like Shepard.” Tali said sleepily, her helmet knocked against Wrex’s shoulders. “And you and the squad.”

“Not the same.” Wrex replied, shifting a little and if that was more comfortable to Tali to rest against him that was no one’s business but his own. “Though maybe Shepard might count.”

Wrex was coming around to her.

“Guess the rest of you aren’t so bad for aliens.” He admitted begrudgingly after the silence dwelled on them for too long.

Tali was out however, a soft hiss from her filter filled the air every time she breathed out.

“Some of you could get better aim though.” Wrex continued on in the dark of the cargo bay, letting his voice take up the empty space. “Don’t know how you lived this long. Not that us Krogan can talk with the genophage running around. Nothing left on Tuchanka even worth saving…”

“Your ancestors wore that?” Tali asked in disbelief, staring at the armor Shepard had recovered for Wrex. He couldn’t see it but was willing to bet her face was scrunched up in disgust.

“I don’t think a Quarian is allowed to give me advice on a suit.” Wrex deadpanned, moving the armor to sit at his feet.

They’d had another session of training, Tali was really coming along with the reloading trick.

Then she’d asked him about the mission he went on that day with Shepard and Liara and he’d reluctantly pulled the armor out of the box he’d set it in.

“I think a Quarian is probably the best option for that.” Tali shot back. “We do spend our lives in them after all. It doesn’t hurt to make them look good.”

“Then what happened to yours?” Wrex asked and tried not to laugh as Tali turned her head at him in what was certainly a glare.

“I have a shotgun.” Tali warned him.

“Try that excuse on the Turian, not on me.” Wrex said and let out another booming laugh.

“You’re right,” Tali said, her voice too chipper to be real, “I’d never make it past all your layers with one shot.”

Wrex broke out in a loud laugh. “You’ve got quads, Quarian.”

“I have a name.” Tali said, all hints of laughter chased from her tone.

“Yeah yeah, not bad.” He paused and inclined his head. “Tali.”

The pleased smug smile she was wearing was obvious even if it couldn’t be seen.

“Too bad you still need to practice your shots.” He couldn’t help but add.

Tali huffed and grabbed her gun and without hesitation fired it at the training dummy. She flicked her wrist and reloaded with the shell she had in her hand already and fired again in only seconds.

Wrex watched with something that might have even been pride.

“What was that?” Tali asked, her voice a little high pitched as the noises continued around them like nothing they’d ever heard before.

Noveria was not a place Wrex had ever cared to visit and he doubted he’d have any better memories of it now.

“Probably debris.” He said, his eyes darting everywhere trying to find the cause of it. “Don’t have a panic attack, I’ll protect you.”

The swarmers came out from nowhere under their feet and Shepard cursed.

Wrex fired his shotgun though it might have been easier to just squish the bugs under his feet rather than fire at them.

“Keelah,” Tali swore as they encroached further towards her. She scrambled back and nearly fell but Wrex shot out an arm to grab and steady her.

“It’s not over yet.” Wrex yelled and fired off another shot as the swarmers came closer.

“I’m going to have nightmares from this.” Tali muttered, Wrex only just close enough to hear it.

“At least you’ll live through it to have them.” Wrex said and kicked a swarmer that came close. It went flying and splattered against the walls.

Next to him he heard Tali reload and fire her shotgun over and over again.

Tali was fiddling with something on her omnitool when Wrex arrived that week, this time when he called her name she didn’t jump but looked up and nodded her head at him.

“Wrex.” She said, “Sorry but I’m a little busy tonight.”

Wrex shrugged. “No skin off my back, this have something to do with the data Shepard got?” He nodded at the omnitool in Tali’s hand.

Ever since she and Kaidan had come back from a mission on geth intel she’d been invested in it. Hadn’t even come up to eat with the group.

“I’m planning on taking this back to the fleet to complete my pilgrimage – when this is all over of course.” Tali said, so fast Wrex could barely make it out. Her leg was bouncing in her excitement again. “This data could help us plan against the geth! I’m trying to get a headstart into deciphering it.”

“Not bad for an Admiral’s daughter, bet he’d be proud.” Unlike his father.

Wrex never was the conventional enough Krogan for him.

Because they’d spent so many months fighting side by side Wrex had gotten good at telling Tali’s body language even if he couldn’t see her face. So he could tell it’d fallen a little at that remark.

“I hope he is.” Tali said wistfully. “I was worried about going back to the fleet with nothing much to show.”

“And now you’ll show you helped stopped an invasion and picked up some random data along the way.” Wrex sat down next to her and groaned like it was an annoyance to him. He stretched out, his foot nudging Tali’s. “Bet other Quarians can’t say the same.”

“No.” Tali brightened, her back straightening. “They can’t.”

Wrex grunted and fell back. “Wake me up when you decide it’s time to do something practical like shoot at something though.”

“This is practical!” Tali said hotly, “You saw how far the Geth have advanced, with this data we could see if there’s a pattern to where they’re coming out of the Veil and-”

Wrex let Tali’s words wash over him and shut his eyes.

They lost Kaidan on Virmire and everyone was a little more withdrawn, a little angrier, and more than a little ready to end it.

“I’ve lost friends before,” Tali admitted that night. “But not like this.”

Wrex didn’t say anything. Keeping quiet even as Tali curled up at his side with the hiss of her filter staticky in her held back sobs filling the air.

Krantt weren’t supposed to die like that.

Good thing his fellow squad members weren’t krantt.

It helped him sleep that night for what little he did get.

He was never one for emotional goodbyes or just goodbyes period.

Which is why when Wrex left the Normandy he did it by only telling Shepard and leaving one thing behind.

Shotguns were nice and all but if he was about to try to sit in a room and make peace with a bunch of clan idiots then it wouldn’t do him any good.

Tali would put it to better use.

It took two years before he saw someone from the Normandy’s crew again but Shepard was standing right there on Tuchanka.

He clasped her arm and squeezed, trying to convey his relief at seeing Shepard again.

To Shepard’s right he heard a cough and looked over to see Tali.

“Good to see you too, Wrex.” Tali said and Wrex squinted at her. She looked roughly the same, maybe a little taller and bigger. Her suit had changed a little, looked fancier from what he could tell.

The shotgun at her hip was more than little familiar to him.

“Shepard got you caught up in her mess again, hunh?”

“Had to pick Tali up from a planet, she needed a little help.” Shepard said and grinned at the both of them.

“Always getting into trouble.” Wrex intoned.

“At least I’m getting out.” Tali said, crossing her arms. “You seemed to have gotten even bigger just sitting on your throne.”

The throne in question stung a little for Wrex. He hadn’t really wanted it, symbolically or literally. His brother put together the stones to shape that way more as a mockery and bitter anger he hadn’t gotten the title or respect Wrex had.

He grunted and Tali must have noticed she struck a nerve because she uncrossed her arms and fidgeted in the same way she used to back on the Normandy when she was feeling guilty.

Before she could say anything he slapped her on the back, making her yelp and almost stumble over her own feet. He placed a hand on her shoulder to steady her and Tali whipped her head to glare at him from under her helmet.

He laughed, unable to help himself. “Don’t be jealous just because I have somewhere to sit on my homeworld.”

Apparently two years weren’t long enough to stop him from remembering the old Normandy crew’s quirks because Wrex could tell she was rolling her eyes at him.

It seemed Tali had gotten tougher skin in the intervening years.

At least she was still standing.

“So,” Wrex said and dropped his arm away from Tali’s shoulder to take a seat back on his throne. “What brings you here?”

Shepard stepped forward and gestured at Grunt and Wrex leaned in to see what was wrong.

Word traveled fast and before Shepard had even made it off the battlegrounds Wrex had heard about the fallen Thresher maw.

Granting Grunt a title in Clan Urdnot was easier after that. Though Wrex would have been lying if he’d said he wouldn’t have given Shepard and Tali a title too if they asked.

Shepard wandered off, chasing after Grunt who had decided to challenge some Krogans standing near a pit, leaving Tali alone with him.

“So that was your Pilgrimage?” Tali asked, “I’m amazed any of you make it into adulthood.”

“Right,” Wrex said drily, “Nothing like sending our young out into the galaxy without a credit to their name and just hoping they make it back.”

Tali tilted her head, a silent acknowledgment.

“You taking care of that thing?” He nodded at the shotgun at her hip.

“Yes.” She paused. “Thank you, by the way. It would have been nicer to thank you in person however.”

Wrex shrugged. “I was getting rid of it anyway.”

“Uh hunh.” Tali said, her tone one of disbelief.

“Surprised you joined the whelp there in his Rite of Passage.” Wrex glanced over at Grunt and then back at Tali. “Doesn’t seem like your kind of deal.”

“Well.” Tali shifted on her feet, looking away. “I remembered something an old Krogan told me about krantts and the importance of them in the Rite.”

Wrex blinked in surprise.

“Hm.” He leaned back in the throne. “Not bad for a Quarian.”

“Tali, come on!” Shepard called out to her and Tali straightened up at her name.

“See you later, Wrex. Take care of yourself. Though I suppose that’s easier to do if you’re doing nothing but sitting.” Her tone was cheerful as she said it.

“Don’t forget who taught you those tricks of yours.” Wrex said, there was no real hint of warning in his voice- if anything it was jovial.

Tali nodded at him and walked off.

Wrex sunk into his chair, taking the next datapad he needed to look at about Clan Weyloc with him. It seemed like Tali wasn’t so young anymore.

Two years could make a lot of differences to species who didn’t live that long.

Wrex wasn’t sure how he felt about it.

“You heard from Tali?” Wrex asked Liara one day when they were sitting in the lounge. He’d pulled her away from those screens of hers, the tightness in her eyes worried him a little.

Everyone else was back on board except for Tali and Ashley but Ashley he at least had heard about. She’d recovered from her injuries and even had a Spectre status to her name. Tali though no one seemed to know anything about.

“Our last interaction was months ago.” Liara said. She dragged a hand over her face and Wrex pretended not to see the wetness on her fingers as she pulled it away. “I’ve heard very little from Quarian space. It seems they’ve just gone silent.”

His grasp around his cup tightened, the glass crinkling underneath his grip.

“I’m certain she’s fine however. I saw her when Shepard came to help me with the Shadow Broker. She was…broken up about her father still but didn’t let that interfere with the mission.”

“Her father?” Wrex asked, frowning.

“He died. Shepard says he woke up some of the Geth units that Tali had sent him. The Admiralty put her on trial for it.”

“Those idiots did what?” Wrex growled, slamming the glass on to the table. “Have they even met Tali? She’s the last person who would take chances with the geth.”

“That’s what Shepard said.” Liara replied, and when she looked up at him she was smiling. “I wouldn’t worry Wrex, Tali can take care of herself.”

“Who said anything about worry?” Wrex blustered but he knew Liara wasn’t buying it. “I just think there’s a whole lot of stupid in this world that needs to be taken care of.”

Liara hummed and let it slide, “From last I heard she’s working along with the Admiralty board.”

Wrex scoffed.

He understood it certainly, those were Tali’s people. She cared about them the same way he cared about the Krogan, probably more since she didn’t seem to hate half of them. Maybe the genophage hadn’t ravaged her people but the war with the Geth had. He was willing to bet she’d taken on more responsibility than was reasonable.

And no one was even with her to watch her back.

“So,” Liara tactfully changed the subject, “What will you do when the genophage is cured.”

Wrex grinned widely. “Finish kicking the Reaper’s ass for the rest of the galaxy.”

“How magnanimous of you.” Liara said, shaking her head but the smile she wore was genuine at least and the shadows in her eyes had receded however little it was.

“The Asari can thank us later.” Wrex took his drink back up and chugged it the rest of the way. There might have been some broken glass in there but it made little difference to him.

He put Tali out of mind for the time, he was sure they both had bigger issues to worry about.

Only Shepard could get a clone that would try to take over her life.

In all honesty, Wrex had missed the chaos.

And being with the crew.

Kaidan was still a notable absence, especially whenever Ashley was standing next to Shepard and would just lean over like she was about to say something to someone and then realized they were no longer there. Old habits died hard even years later it seemed.

No one mentioned it.

Shepard opted to take Ashley and Brooks to the casino with her, leaving the rest of them to the apartment. EDI and Liara took to monitoring the channel in case Shepard needed anything, Vega had taken over the tv, Garrus and Joker were shooting jokes back and forth at each other about Turians and humans, and Javik was just standing creepily in the corner.

Wrex still didn’t know what to make of the Prothean. Shepard found the weirdest people to call squadmates.

“So I heard there’s a cure for your people.” Tali said as she took a seat next to him. Her glass was filled with something alcoholic with a straw stuck in it so she could drink it.

“And I heard you made nice with the Geth.” Wrex said, taking a gulp of his own drink.

“Who’d have thought we’d be here now.” Tali raised her glass in a toast and then took a sip.

“Probably Shepard.” Wrex grumbled though it wasn’t really critical. “She always did keep talking about making a difference.” And apparently Wrex had listened. He wasn’t sure what was worse.

At least taking a risk with her had panned out.

“You should visit Rannoch,” Tali said, “The Geth didn’t do upkeep much on the buildings they weren’t inhabiting, it might even feel like Tuchanka to you. Except greener.” Tali sounded proud and Wrex caught the twitch in her leg. This time like she was stopping herself from bouncing as she talked excitedly about her homeworld. “It’s all so new. Can I even call it new? It is technically old to us. Old like you are- wait you must have seen what it looked like before…” She shifted, looking up at him.

“I didn’t go much in Quarian space.” Wrex admitted. “Never had a reason to. Didn’t think I’d be around Quarians much.”

He could hear the smirk in her voice. “And yet here you are.”

“Mistakes may have been made.” Wrex drawled and snorted when Tali tried to glare at him from under her helmet. “I’ll see if I can make my way out there. When all this is done. Who knows maybe the council will award us Rannoch. Then you’d have to fight us for it.” He grinned at Tali. “Good luck getting it back then.”

She was rolling her eyes, he knew it.

“We’d manage.” Tali said, sniffing indignantly. “We’re tougher than you think.”

“Yeah.” Wrex agreed, glancing over at her. “So it seems.”

“I mean. We took down a Reaper. Without using a Thresher maw even.”

Wrex threw his head back and laughed. “Only because I bet Quarian’s guard dogs would catch a cold if they went outside.”

“Speaking of dogs I heard Jack got herself a pet varren, I wonder how one of those would do on Rannoch…”

“Bad idea, kid.” Wrex said but leaned back to listen to Tali go on about it anyway.

It’d been years since he’d seen Tali in a firefight. The ride down the elevator to the cargo bay had him glance over at her.

“You been practicing with that shotgun? Still remember the fast-reloading trick I showed you?” He asked.

Tali’s back straightened. “You know, I've taken care of myself for the past few years.”

Of that he had no doubt. She would have had to with everything going on the galaxy right then and even before it from what Wrex had heard of what happened to her father.

“I know. I'm old and I worry, even though my favourite Quarian's all grown up and killing Reapers.” He sighed. It wouldn’t hurt to admit that.

“You're like the crazy head butting uncle I never had.” Tali told him, a mixture of disbelief and amusement in her voice.

Whatever response he was going to have was lost when the doors opened and Shepard raced after her clone.

In the end he pulled both Tali and Shepard back up into the cargo bay before they fell to the Citadel streets below.

“Thanks, Wrex.” Shepard said, slightly out of breath. She stood up and pinged Joker on the comms.

Tali sat on the ground next to him, shaking a little.

He nudged her.

“You okay?”

To his surprise Tali started laughing, falling onto the floor on her back and giggling.

“You ever think about how weird our lives are?” Tali asked between her laughter.

“All the time.” Wrex sighed. “I had it much easier before all of you.”

“Aw but Wrex.” Tali sat up and he was certain she was grinning. “Then you wouldn’t have met your favourite Quarian.”

Wrex rolled his eyes.

“Does that make Garrus your favourite Turian? And Liara your favourite Asari? I bet Shepard’s the favourite human, right? Can I tell them?” Tali asked, snickering.

He almost wished he could have said that she reminded him of the Tali he’d known years ago who was lighter and freer of responsibilities but even back then she bore a weight on her back.

“No one would believe it.” He turned his head a little so Tali would miss his grin.

“I bet they would.” Tali said, leaning back on her hands. “You’re a little soft around us Wrex, I don’t think you’ve noticed it.”

“You take that back.” Wrex grumbled, looking back to frown at her.

“If it makes you feel better you’re my favourite Krogan.” Tali told him, matter of fact.

It did make him feel a little better, not that he was going to say it.

“Yeah yeah, head-butting uncle, I heard.”

“At least your hearing isn’t going in your old age then.”

Wrex certainly proved the head-butting part later that week when Grunt challenged him at the party.

Laughter rang out all around them, the apartment alive as everyone who had once been a part of the Normandy crew shared stories.

Though some of them he’d never met they all shared the common bond of getting dragged into the craziest shit with Shepard.

Glancing around he noticed a certain Quarian was missing and heaved himself away from the balcony with a sigh. It didn’t take long to find Tali nearly passed out in the bathroom.

“I knew you were a lightweight.” Wrex said, looking down at Tali and huffing with a laugh.

“Wrex!” Tali yelled, too loud even over the blasting music.

“Think you can stand or you too out of it?” He asked, amused as Tali hiccuped.

“I am not too out of it.” Tali denied but still lay on the floor. “I am still looking for answers is all.”

“Answers?”

Tali nodded but then held a hand to her helmet like she regretted the movement a second later. “Shepard said the answers to my father are the bottom of the glass. I am still looking.”

Wrex rolled his eyes, “Shepard also thinks she could survive a head butting contest with a krogan. Come on,” He said and leaned down to drag Tali up right.

“Do you think I made him proud? I am not certain he made me proud.” Tali rambled as Wrex started to drag her towards one of the many bedrooms. It wasn’t hard to guess she was still talking about her father. “I thought he had all the answers once; but they were just lies he told me.” Her voice was bitter and Wrex paused.

“Kid no one has all the answers and as for your dad, well. Parents are complicated. At least he didn’t try to kill you.”

“Oh.” Tali said, trailing out the word too long. “I suppose you have me there, Wrex.”

“Always nice to beat a Quarian at something.” Wrex kept moving then.

“Pfft, you don’t want to beat me, I am your favourite.”

“Really going to milk that one, hunh?”

Tali was beaming under her helmet, this close up he could just make out a grin. “It means a lot to me.”

Wrex made a few mock grumbling noises. “Don’t you people have the ability to flush out toxins or something.”

“I will!” Tali said brightly and then hung her head. “In a minute.”

Wrex got to the bed and dumped her on it. “There. Now you can also sleep it off.” Tali flopped around on the bed, making Wrex drag a hand over his face. “This is humiliating for the both of us, kid.”

“I’m not a kid!” Tali complained, her tone the near exact it had been three years ago in the cargo bay. “You even said I was all grown up! And and-” She swayed when she tried to sit up. “Killing Reapers!” She finished victoriously.

Wrex chuckled and pushed her back down, “Yeah you are. I’m proud of you for it. You’re no Kalros but you can pack a punch with that bot of yours.”

“Chitika goes for the optics!” Tali said but it was slightly muffled by her turning her face into the bedsheets.

Wrex snorted when she began to do the wheezy breath with her filter that meant she was out again.

“Your dad’s an idiot.” He told the sleeping Tali and then trudged back to the party.

Tali wasn’t wrong. Rannoch was greener than Tuchanka but a lot of the land had been turned into Geth hubs that were now being dismantled to turn into homes.

Having them so near still creeped Wrex out with their flashlight heads, he wished for a moment Ashley was there to share in his commisery of it but she was still on Earth. After the last battle most of them had headed for their homeworlds while mourning the loss of Shepard.

He’d spent a few months on Tuchanka overseeing building plans for expansion and watching the first of his children grow a little and then gotten the invitation from Tali to “see what a real planet looks like”.

“If this is what qualifies as a real planet I’m not impressed.” Wrex intoned as Tali greeted him at the shuttle pad.

She stepped up to fling her arms around him and pulled him into a hug that he returned with a sigh.

“I’m surprised you made it off that scrap of rock you call one so quickly. I didn’t think you’d accept my invite for another year at least.” Tali stepped back and was fidgeting.

Her mask was off and Wrex squinted a little to view her face. He grunted lightly, “Thought you might be in trouble. Or in need of some good old fashioned Krogan strength to move things.”

Tali rolled her eyes, “This is just a friendly visit.” She said but was still shifting on her feet and wringing her hands. “I wanted to show you how far we’d come.”

Wrex tilted his head, trying to figure out what it was Tali was hiding. Without her mask it was easier to see her avert her eyes. “Well, I also thought I should see my krantt.” He finally said just to see her reaction.

Tali’s face shot up, her gaze meeting his and her mouth dropped in surprise. “I thought you didn’t have a krantt anymore.”

That’s what he’d thought too until three years ago. But he wasn’t about to lie to himself anymore. The Normandy crew would always be important to him.

Wrex just shrugged in response to her though.

Tali bounced on her feet and grinned up at him. “I see the end of the war really has made you soft.” She said, her voice sly. “How are raising babies?”

Wrex grunted. “Almost as annoying as watching over a baby Quarian.”

“Hey!” Tali reached out to whack his shoulder but just hurt her hand instead. She pulled it back with a pout.

“But I’d be glad if they grew up as well as she did.” Wrex admitted a second after even as he laughed.

Her shoulders straightened at that and Tali stood a little taller. “Thanks. I’d hope my father would be able to say the same thing.” Her eyes darted away again at the comment and it clicked to Wrex.

He truly was getting old and soft because instead of dropping it he stepped closer to nudge Tali. “Guess I can be proud in his place then.”

Tali hesitated only a second before she smiled at him again. It was a little sad this time but the sincerity was there. “Come on old man, I’ll show you why we Quarians were once considered the best builders.”

“So long as it looks better than your suits.”

Tali whacked his arm again, a lesson not learnt the first time.

“You’re lucky I don’t have a shotgun right now.” She warned him.

“You couldn’t match me even with one.” Wrex said back but it had no bite. He dropped a hand to her shoulder and squeezed lightly.

She probably actually could though he’d never admit it.

After all, he’d taught her the best tricks in the books.

#tali'zorah vas normandy #urdnot wrex #trilogyappreciationweek #beej writes #rannochs #wlwkiranerys

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paper-n-ashes · 4 years ago

Text

sparks and embers - chapter 6

Characters: Poe Dameron x Original Female Character, Kylo Ren x Original Female Character

Story Tags: Explicit (18+), Canon Compliant/Divergent (Set after TLJ), First Person POV, Love Triangle, Slow Burn, Enemies to Lovers, Porn with Plot, Hurt/Comfort, Kylo Ren hates Poe Dameron

Chapter 6 - Ruin

Words: 5.9k

Chapter Tags/Warnings: Mentions of war/death, kissing, a healthy dose of the ‘sharing a bed’ trope, ANGST, sexual education because who doesn’t want to read about that in fanfiction, vague description of a female medical procedure

Read on AO3 or Start from the beginning

A softened sigh left me, knowing it was probably time to let Poe say his piece. He’d been so silent until now that I felt compelled to hear what had been stirring inside his mind while I’d held him in quiet contempt.

“Alright. I’m listening.”

He flicked on one of the dimmed lamps next to the bed, a gentle glow illuminating the room, watching as he proceeded to carefully extricate himself from under the sheets, the soreness as a result of the rehab we’d performed today now evident in his concentrated expression.

I drew myself up into a seated position on the sofa as he made his way to sit on the small table at my front, not attempting to meet my eyes until he’d slowly placed himself down on the metal. His face was less than a meter from mine, pupils drifting upwards until finally, our stares locked.

“I’m sorry,” he declared, his words heavy. “I understand why you’re angry. I get it, okay? Years of battle after battle, fight after fight, it becomes difficult to consider those working under the First Order’s control as people. People with families, loved ones, even children. They appear as targets, there simply to be eliminated. And it’s you or them. Either you perish, or you put the rational thought into the back of your mind and fight back.”

Poe glanced down, fixated to the floor, his jaw tight. “I do think about it sometimes, the people I’ve... murdered. I’ve spent sleepless nights wondering if killing in the name of freedom was a good enough reason to send people to an early death. When you don’t see their faces it’s…. easier. You don’t see the bloodshed, the corpses. You just see the fiery explosion of their ships fading into the black void of space.”

I stayed rigid in the sofa, hands clutching the into cushions. It was difficult to hold down the simmer of anger that boiled in my stomach, since everything so far only reinforced what I felt like I’d determined hours ago. Even while my demeanour remained stormy, Poe continued.

“All I heard in my childhood was my father reminding me of the way he and my mother fought for what they believed to be right. Both of them lived and battled through a time like ours, under the thumb of a regime hungry for power, sparing no innocents in their pursuit of it.” He became lost in memory, the aura drifting around him stained with a subtle sorrow. “‘People were hurting. People were suffering. Your father and I couldn’t sit and do nothing.’ That’s what my mother had told me, a child of two, as her reasoning for joining the Alliance in their efforts to push back against what threatened all type of freedom in this galaxy. My parents offered to sacrifice their lives on the tiniest shred of hope that me, and every other being on every planet, would see peace in their lifetime.”

His eyes finally shifted back to focus on mine. They were determined, yet soft, the chocolate fibers of his irises melting together. “I just... wanted to be like her. Like them. I wanted to do what they did. I wanted them to be proud of me, to have faith that their legacy would live on after they were gone. To provide freedom and peace like they had. Even if that meant sacrificing my own life, even if that meant killing those who opposed it. I had to. I had to join the people that wanted the same thing as me.”

A growing ferocity began to radiate, his voice severe. “I witnessed so many of my fellow soldiers, my friends, die thoughtlessly at the hands of others. And I wanted them to feel the same pain that I felt. Is it hypocritical? Of course, I know that. Is it cruel? Yes, murder is rarely not. But it's in the name of protection, defiance against control from an overpowering force. Those who fight with the First Order, who take over planets and kill innocents for the sake of power, they know what they’re doing. They know the consequences, the outcome, the hold the galaxy will be strangled under if they succeed. And they do it anyway. Our cause isn’t more noble, it’s self-defence. We’re trying to protect the ones who aren’t able to fight back, and those who don’t deserve to be born into a world that will crush them into submission.”

Poe’s features turned darker, leaning in close. “I will never stop thinking about the lives I’ve taken. I will never not hold myself accountable for the sins I’ve committed. But I will also not sit and do nothing. I don’t need you to accept it, but at least try to understand. You and I want the same thing, in the end, to save as many people as possible in our short lifetime. I’m just doing the best I can to see that through.”

While I instinctively took a breath in preparation to speak, nothing came. He’d rendered me speechless.

I had no reply to give, no counterargument, no flaw to point out. His honesty floored me, raw emotion and long-felt guilt rising up for me to observe so openly. The pain behind his eyes seemed so much more acute than any of the other injuries he’d sustained, not trying to shield it from my view as he spoke.

I tried to find words, anything to articulate my forgiveness. Because I did understand. He’d made me see it, the same anguish over death that I felt. But he’d also made me realise what a coward I was.

Against the people who would kill him or control him, he fought back. While I hid myself away under the guise of selflessness.

I thought I was the hero of my story, giving up my home, my old life, for the benefit of the downtrodden people of this planet. In reality, I was a scared little girl, too gutless to push back against those I, and so many others in this galaxy, feared. And here Poe was, putting himself in harm’s way, every day, in the hopes that he could take away our fear forever.

He began to rise in front of me, taking my lack of reply as an answer in itself. He seemed despondent, his face sullen as he turned to limp back to the bed.

A different kind of fury coursed through me, fury at myself for how easily I’d judged him, at how cruelly I’d treated him.

I couldn’t let the night end this way.

I picked myself up from the sofa and quickly lunged at his wrist, pulling him to face me. He was surprised, glancing with wide eyes to where my hand had caught him, then to my face. I tried desperately to convey it there, everything I wanted to say, struggling to find my voice. Poe waited for me to speak the words I clearly had sitting on the edge of my tongue, but everything I conjured didn’t seem to be enough, the jumbled thoughts swirling incoherently in my mind, never letting me quite grasp onto them long enough to form exactly what I needed to express.

Tension filled the space between us, thick and overwhelming. I soon began outlining the lines of his face, the crease currently stuck in his brow, the curve of his nose, the contour of his jaw, the arch of his lips.

My hands found themselves catching each side of his face, pulling his mouth to mine in a desperate kiss.

I’d held it back for so long, too long, now unable to deny the burning urge to melt my lips into his. He was alarmed at first, his mouth frozen from movement as he comprehended my sudden attack.

Yet quickly he was syncing his lips fluidly with mine, a hand rising to clutch the back of my neck, pulling me closer. His casted arm curled around my waist, pressing my body into his, feeling the heat radiating off his chest.

The fire in my lower abdomen roared into bright red flames again, spreading into the rest of my body like molten lava. He tasted even better than I’d imagined, our tongues beginning to find each other through parted mouths. Fingers moved into his hair, hungrily grasping at the curled strands, causing a low moan to seep from his throat. The sound made me even more forceful in my need for his lips to be connected with mine, barely having time to breathe in-between our eager kisses.

I wanted to have him, all of him, so deeply it was painful, the searing burn lighting up in my veins.

Don’t do this Alexys. It will ruin you.

My breath hitched as I reluctantly pulled away, looking up, seeing his pupils swollen. He was cautious then, moving his hand from my neck to push a strand of hair behind my ear, almost if at any moment I would flee from his embrace.

And that’s what half of me was begging to do, the other screaming at me to lock our lips together again. I felt split into two, a cracking beginning to divide me roughly in the middle.

I could see Poe searching through my gaze, trying to assess my thoughts, whether it was safe to continue. He leaned in gradually, testing my reaction. I didn’t recoil this time. I didn’t want to.

His lips melted into mine, less insistent than before, although somehow just as intimate. Inhibitions lowered, my hands slid down to his chest, noticing the hard muscles underneath my palms and feeling the fire inside me surge. I wanted to feel the bare skin underneath, to have it pressed against my own. To explore the other parts of him covered by clothes. To forget even for a short time that this was wrong, that I shouldn’t be doing this.

Poe gently withdrew, leaning his forehead into mine. “I know.”

“Know what?”

He exhaled a long breath. “I know you don’t want to do this.”

I replaced my hands to his cheeks. “You have no idea how much I want this. How much I want you.” The truth of the words made me feel both vulnerable and safe, for the first time giving in to the yearning I’d hoped to keep locked inside my chest.

He tensed, a slight tremble in the arm that curved around my body. But his face grew sombre, almost... sad. “You don’t. Not completely. I can feel you wanting to hold back,” he murmured. “I can feel your fear.”

I swallowed hard, unable to refute him. “…I’m sorry. I want to. But I just… I can’t."

We both looked down, my confirmation making the tone of our connection shift. He was silent for what felt like a long time, and we stayed motionless in our embrace, neither wanting it to end, knowing it was inevitable that we would have to part.

“Why?” he breathed. “Why are you afraid?”

I wanted to be honest with him, like he had been for me, so much the sensation felt like it was clawing out from inside me, determined to burst through the skin. But there was a barrier there, one I had forged long ago. Unyielding and impenetrable to anything or anyone.

Although, I felt another realisation simmer to the surface of my mind, one that was not nearly as exposing, but still true.

“You’re going to leave. And I have to stay here. I don’t… I don’t want that to hurt any more than it has to.”

It seemed to hit him then, like he hadn’t let the thought enter his mind before. The awareness of our predicament shone brightly in his eyes, a light switch flickering on.

His hand moved to my cheek, grazing his thumb softly against the skin, my heart throbbing inside its cage at his light touch. I watched as eyes scanned over my face, back and forth, as if memorising the features. It was then I knew he’d come to the same conclusion.

It wouldn’t be long before we would part, most likely to never see each other again. If we went any further, if we crossed that line, the pain of saying goodbye would become so much more unbearable.

Almost simultaneously, we let our hold on each other loosen, the disappointment in the air almost palatable on my tongue. The smouldering inside had burnt out, suffocated by the gloom weighing heavy in my chest. Poe took my hand in his, his eyes pleading. “Can I ask one thing of you?’

I moved my head in a slow nod.

“Sleep in this bed with me tonight. Just sleep. I promise.” It was an earnest request, his face imploring and unguarded.

In contempt of the voice in my head bellowing at me that this was a terrible idea, I agreed. “Okay.”

Together we tentatively walked to each side of the mattress, making no rush to slip under the covers and settle into the pillows. I faced away, fearing if I looked at Poe's charming face any longer, I would surrender to the pull of desire that never seemed to relent. I didn’t know how I was ever going to be able to fall asleep like this, his body radiating an energy that vibrated into the space between us, keeping me all too aware of his presence.

There was movement, a dip in the mattress, Poe’s arms curling around my torso, pulling me close. His face buried itself into my hair, the warmth of his gradual exhale sending charged shivers down my spine. Placing my arms over his, silently accepting his embrace, I felt my heart thump a calming glow through my chest, all the way to the end of my limbs.

I’d never felt so peaceful, so whole, becoming lost in the comfort of his hold, wishing I could bask in it forever.

But reality bit at me, cold and uninvited, reminding me of the goodbye I would have to give soon enough.

We were still entangled when consciousness came again, the dim light of early sunrise leaking through my window. Poe’s arms circled around me, my body fitting perfectly into his.

He was still asleep, his face resting just at the back of my head, slow breaths bristling into my hair. I relished the feeling of it all, trying to commit it to my memory.

I stayed there, motionless, waiting for time to run out, knowing I would be chasing the feeling of this in the months, maybe years, to come. Thinking about his future absence made me terrifyingly lonely, even with his arms wrapped around now.

Eventually the seconds ticked down to my chronometer alarm buzzing, rustling Poe awake from his slumber. I assumed he would begin to move, pulling away, this one night that bonded us together finally ending. Yet he stayed as unmoving as I had been, the only indication he had awoken the increased depth of his inhale, a small tense of his muscles. I went to move, to switch the screeching sound off, but he clutched me back into his chest, squeezing tight.

As much as my heart thumped at the pressure of his hips into mine, the noise of my alarm was grating. “Let me turn it off,” I whispered. “I’ll come right back.”

Poe loosened his grip reluctantly, allowing me to reach over to the screeching machine and mute its sound. I settled back comfortably into his arms again, as he nuzzled his face into my neck, lips faintly placing a kiss on the skin.

“Poe… please… don’t…”

His sigh whistled past my neck. “Come with me, when I leave.”

It annoyed me, his fleeting demand so easily spoken. As if I could suddenly give up all that encompassed my life before he appeared, the beings that depended on me. But his voice was so sincere, so entreating in the early morning, that the irritation dashed away from the forefront of my mind.

“You know I can’t do that.”

He acknowledged my answer in the shift of his body from around me, moving himself out of the bed we had shared for the night and leaving me alone underneath the sheets.

It burned, the unprecedented disconnection of his shape from mine, my chest forming into a black hole in the realisation I might never feel him that close again.

I wanted to let my emotion to take over, to give in to the pain that rushed to me now as the finality of our night cradled together became evident. But I refused to release it, my resolve from the night before holding strong. I knew I’d made it harder by giving in to Poe's innocent plea of sharing a slumber within his embrace, but I wasn’t going to let our farewell completely ruin me.

With a forced composure, I rose from my bedside, focusing on the appointments scheduled to fill my day. Through my haze I recalled many of them being young female patients in need of birth control. I would somehow have to shut Poe away, wanting to give these women the privacy they deserved.

Poe and I appeared to use the ‘freshers at the same time, the searing heat I usually liked being showered with restrained no matter how high I pushed the temperature button. Eventually I’d readied myself for the workday ahead, deciding on a pencil skirt and lightened blue blouse tucked into the waist, working my hair into a ponytail.

It was when I’d begun making breakfast, for both myself and all the company that I kept in the clinic at the moment, that Poe emerged back into my quarters in a set of dark black hospital clothes. I glanced at him only briefly as he entered, hearing him pull out a chair, not daring to look at his face yet.

“Smells good,” he uttered, breaking the silence that existed in exemption to the sautéed chicken eggs and nuna bacon sizzling in the large pan in front of me.

“It’s almost ready,” I remarked, feeling completely the disconnection between us in his tone. Half of me was glad he accepted the separation we needed to make, the other mourning the severed bond we had formed in the connection of our bodies. But I had to let it go, whatever was left of the fragile link that survived the night.

I continued preparing the hot meal, separating the foodstuff between Poe and Vixur’s crew. Once I’d gently placed a share in front of Poe at the table, a smile meeting him fleetingly, I took the rest with me, balancing the four dishes on my hands and forearms, moving cautiously through the hallway.

With impeccable timing Vixur and his students were conversing between each other, obviously having woken just before I came to greet them.

“I’ve got breakfast for you all,” I announced, setting it down at the meeting table across from my computer. It was generally used as a place I could sit with patients and their families when giving them their diagnosis or explaining treatment plans, but today it would have to work as a secondary dining table. All four men jabbered back thankyous as they moved quickly to sit and eat, their appreciation evident in the way they gulped down the meal without hesitation. I returned to my quarters to find Poe picking lazily at his food, only a few bites eaten.

“Does it taste bad?” I asked from behind him, before circling to my seat at the table.

He looked up swiftly, as if I’d startled him. He must have been deeply lost in thought not to hear me treading down the hallway.

“It’s delicious,” he urged. “I’m just… not that hungry.”

“Are you feeling alright? Are you still sore? Are you-“

“Alex, I’m fine,” he interrupted. “You can’t fix a bad mood with any of your treatments.”

I looked at him curiously. “Bad mood?”

Did I do that to him?

“Did you not sleep well?”

He didn’t answer me right away, a subtle scowl settling in his lips. “It was actually... the most restful sleep I’ve had in a long time.”

I fought the urge to beam at him, a smile waiting to form, but the gloomy expression he wore held it down. I had to agree with him - it truly was the most comfortable rest I’d experienced in recent memory. And knowing I would never feel that peaceful, dreamless slumber in his arms again made me fully understand why he was frowning.

“Thank you so much for the meal Alex. I just... don’t have an appetite right now.” Poe rose from his seat and took his plate to clean, his sombre mood spilling into my body and taking over. Wringing his hands dry, He turned back to me. “Is it still alright if I keep using your office to continue working on BB-8?”

I nodded. “It would actually be preferable. Most of my patients today are women, and I need privacy for their appointments. I’ll let you know when it’s safe to come out, okay?”

Poe understood what I’d only hinted at. “Sure thing. I won’t step a foot out that room without your permission.”

A kind smile formed on his lips, but it fell as he moved from my quarters, leaving me to my breakfast, which now seemed extremely unappetizing.

“Well, Kaia, you’ve got a couple of options,” I started. It was my 5th appointment of the day, and I was starting to lose all hope in the young generation that followed mine. “You can get the implant, which lasts 5 years and protects you from pregnancy. But it can be a painful procedure, and unfortunately the implant itself is quite expensive. There are injections which last 3 months, but you’ll have to see me again in that time frame. I know that’s hard for you being from the South village. But there’s always prophylactics, which your partner has to use, every separate time you want to be intimate.”

Kaia was a 17-year-old human girl who had obviously not been taught any helpful sex education. Although, that wasn’t uncommon in these villages.

“But, like,” she began to question. “Can’t he just, like, not, um, finish in there?”

I drew in a deep breath. This wasn’t the first time I’d explained this today. “Technically yes, if he withdraws from you before that moment comes, it does lessen the chance of pregnancy. But Kaia, there’s a lot of fluid already leaking from him before then, fluid that can contain sperm. It doesn’t protect you. Not fully.”

Kaia was thoughtful, taking in my words. “But what if he doesn’t want to use the sheath?”

“Well... that’s his decision. But then you have to make yours. A decision that you’re more than allowed to make. One night could lead to either a future of motherhood or even diseases that could cause a great deal of damage to your body.”

“Ew,” Kaia recoiled. “I mean, I get what you’re saying. But Miss Jago, haven’t you ever been so swept up in the moment that you didn’t think about any of that?”

My jaw clenched, catching me off guard with her question. None of the other women had posed it to me. “It’s not been an issue for me,” I said flatly.

“Because of the birth control, right?” she surmised. “Which one do you use then?”

Oof, caught me out again.

“I don’t have the need for it. Kaia, this is not about me-”

“Wait, what?” she gasped. “But you’re so pretty?”

I soaked my voice in its professional tone. “This is your appointment Kaia, we’re not here to discuss my personal life.”

Kaia refused to comply. “But you’ve done it, right?”

I sighed, irritated. “Yes Kaia, but we took all the necessary precautions.”

“Well that doesn’t make it sound very fun,” Kaia huffed.

I tried desperately to hold back the aversion wanting to show on my face. It hadn’t been fun. It was clunky, awkward and somewhat painful. And I felt a spike of envy that this teenager already seemed to have had better experience with the opposite sex than I did.

“Look, your options are there. If I had to choose one, and I was with a partner I could trust had nothing that could spread to me, I’d go with the implant.”

She contemplated my advice, pulling her hands up to let her chin rest on them. “I think you’re right Miss Jago. But my parents would never help me pay for it.”

“That’s alright,” I replied, already knowing the home situation Kaia found herself in. She’d made the trek to my clinic alone, without her parent’s knowledge, just to see me for this single reason. I doubted they even knew she had a boyfriend. “How about I put the implant in today, and we figure out payment later?”

Kaia’s face lit up, eyes brimming with delight. “Really?”

I smiled at her and nodded.

“Thank you!” she squealed, face barely containing her excitement.

Really, this was for both her benefit and my own. I wasn’t about to face her parents when it would ultimately be me providing the news their daughter was pregnant. I didn’t want Kaia to go through that, a young pregnancy in a poor village after her parents would most likely cast her out.

“Remember I said this can be a painful procedure, and you’ll be sore for a day or two afterwards.”

Kaia nodded, understanding, yet unable to hold back her joy.

I worked my way through the process of setting her implant, my mind on autopilot while I thought more about the question Kaia innocently queried. I’d never come close to the type of desire that would have caused me to throw away all caution and rational thought. Not until-

“Hey Alex!” I heard from the other side of the curtain I’d drawn for Kaia’s discretion. “I know I said I wouldn’t come out until you said, but I’ve got something I need to show you.”

Poe’s voice was exuberant and proud, annoyingly unaware of the fact I had my hand in a very delicate place. My eyes shot to Kaia’s, her cheeks already flushing red with mortification.

“Poe!” I fumed, not hiding my anger. “I asked you to do one thing!”

I sensed his panic from behind the fabric separating us. “Kriff! Sorry!” His voice changed when he spoke next, a hurried whisper. “BB, come back here! We can’t show her yet!”

A streaming mechanical movement could be heard in my periphery, turning my head to see a shadow moving along the bottom of the curtain. I took the moment to stop what I was doing, covering Kaia with a sheet.

I was thankful I did that when the BB-8 droid slip through a break in the drape, caring little for what Poe had ordered him to do. His little head sat hovering above his balled body, for the first time actually staying in position. The photoreceptor, which looked like a singular eye, was also finally lit as he zoomed closer. While an impressed smirk started to beam as I realised Poe had managed to get his little friend working, it was rapidly overtaken by irritation at the droid’s lack of courtesy.

Poe was cursing under his breath, then apologetic. “Alex and uh, patient, I am so sorry. BB, get out of there!” BB-8 let out a few indiscernible beeps, a language I didn’t understand, although Poe seemed to. “I don’t care! They need privacy. You can see her later!” he hollered.

The droid made what sounded like a high-pitched huff as its head dropped, like it knew it had been scolded. Its head swivelled around on top it’s body and rolled away, again sliding through the break in the curtain.

“Come on, back this way.” I listened to the combination of footsteps and mechanical whirring move back into the hallway, a door eventually clicking closed. Looking apologetically back to Kaia, her face was still stunned at the intrusion.

“I am so sorry. I told him to stay put until my appointments were over. It’s okay if you want to stop for a moment,” I offered, trying to stay as calm as possible.

Kaia blinked purposefully a few times before being able to focus back to me. “No it’s okay. I’m ready.”

I admired her composure, while I remained silently boiling under the surface.

“What the hell Poe?” I snarled, barging into my office where Poe sat, seemingly interrupting a conversation he was having with BB-8. I’d clawed my anger into submission for the rest of Kaia’s appointment, but now it was ready to surge outward.

Poe stood, arms held up in surrender. “I know! I’m sorry! I didn’t think, and it was just really bad timing.” BB-8 beeped in what sounded like agreeance, rolling around from behind the office desk into my view.

“It was the worst timing!” I snapped. “That girl was 17, in a very vulnerable position, and you scared the living daylights out of her!”

“I know, and I can’t apologise enough Alex, really!” His face was pleading, brown eyes soft yet desperate. “I was just so excited about BB working again, and I wanted to show you.”

His sincerity disarmed me, my fury sizzling down, suffocated by his apology. I took a slow breath in, eyes closed, reigning it in further. “Please don’t disregard my instructions again,” I grumbled.

He nodded, as did BB-8, and my eyes focused on the droid. He was oddly cute in his appearance, his small beeps already annoyingly adorable. “Hello,” I greeted, all frustration now clean from my voice. “My name is Alexys.” I kneeled down to his eye level and he immediately wheeled directly in front of me, beeping somewhat of his own introduction.

“He said it’s nice to meet you,” Poe clarified, still hesitant at the easy change in my mood.

I looked up at him, curious. “You can understand those sounds he makes?”

“Most of it,” Poe answered. “It’s a form of Binary. Having him with me for so long helped me grow accustomed to the pitch and time changes in his beeps.”

My eyebrows rose, fascinated. “That’s so impressive.” BB-8 squealed in uneven time, his eye looking over to Poe, who almost looked bashful. “What? What did he say?”

He shot BB-8 an irritated look before meeting his eyes to mine. “It’s nothing important. His circuits are still a little fried.”

I wasn’t convinced, but then again I didn’t speak droid. "I'm glad you got him working,” I said earnestly, pleased there hadn’t been any type of casualty from his crash.

Poe sighed, relieved. “Me too. He’s the best co-pilot I’ve ever had.”

BB-8 whistled happily, evidently pleased with the praise, and its sweetness made me smile.

“Alexys?” Vixur suddenly called, his voice echoing down the hall. “Are you back there?”

I left Poe and BB-8 without a word, finding Vixur standing at the hallway entrance, his clothes smeared in dirt and dark grease. “Everything okay?”

Vixur nodded, evidently tired, still an accomplished grin filled his face. “We’re done actually. The comm-tower’s fixed.”

I wanted to smile back, to show my appreciation for his hard work, but it all became too hard to fake anymore.

This was it, the beginning of my goodbye to Poe. He would now be able to contact the Resistance, his friends, and he would soon be gone from my life just as suddenly as he arrived.

I forced the tears back as I hugged Vixur, doing all I could to hide my pain and show some kind of gratitude for the selfless work he had done.

Somehow Vixur sensed the turmoil simmering through me, patting my back softly. He pulled out of our embrace, speaking softly enough so Poe wouldn’t hear. “You needed this done for him, didn’t you?”

I nodded, the sadness hard to contain on my face. Vixur’s own expression was sympathetic as he squeezed my arm reassuringly. I didn’t need to explain anything, he just seemed to know.

“If it’s meant to be, you’ll find each other again.”

I drew in a long breath, furiously smothering the need to cry. I wanted to thank him more, for giving his time to me for little in return, but I couldn’t say the words out of fear the sudden sorrow would overwhelm me if I spoke out loud.

Vixur understood this, giving me a caring smile as he took his leave. “Well, we best be heading back to the village. I’ll see you sometime soon Alex. If I don’t, I wish you luck.”

And he was gone, the clinic door closing behind him, leaving me frozen in dread. A large part of me was reluctant to tell Poe the ‘good news’, but he’d waited long enough for his rescue from this planet.

I didn’t need to turn around to know he’d slinked out of the office to find me stuck where I stood, BB-8’s soft whirring following him.

“The comm-tower is ready, isn’t it?” Poe asked gently.

I forced myself to smile as I turned around, Poe’s expression not showing the relief I would have expected.

“Sure is,” I replied, the hint of quiver in my voice. “You can finally go home.”

I saw Poe’s lip tremble as he too attempted a smile, the disappointment in his eyes more indicative of his actual reaction to my answer.

Neither of us spoke for a long time, BB-8 looking back and forth quizzically, a few unsure beeps finally pierced in Poe’s direction. The sounds knocked us back into reality, as I moved to find the transmitter I’d stashed back into my tech station after determining its redundancy days ago.

The memories felt foreign, like they were from a different age. So little time had changed me so much, making me feel the most unstable and fragile I had felt in so long, on the verge of tipping into an overwhelming pain.

Poe had watched me in silence, unmoving. I eventually shifted the transmitter into his arms, an extremely aged, large box with an array of dusty buttons poking out of the rusted metal.

“It’s old, but it still works,” I insisted in a monotone, the emotion sucked from my voice. Poe only nodded, and gave me one last despairing glance as he turned away, carrying the machine into the study, BB-8 trailing behind him.

When the door closed, I couldn’t hold onto it any longer, the overpowering misery bursting free, its icy presence consuming me in a singular moment, the cold burn stinging as a few tears trickled down my cheeks.

What did I tell you?

The tears came faster at the sound of the voice, it’s condescension only making the suffering more excruciating.

No.

You’re wrong. I’m stronger than this.

I wiped away the errant tears defiantly, pulling myself together at the seams that had broken a few minutes ago, calming my breathing, trying to settle the trembling on inhale.

I’d made it through so much worse, pushed past crushing loneliness, fear and sadness, to make myself more resilient than I was behaving now. And I wasn’t going to let myself be caught in this vortex of emotion any longer.

I will not let this ruin me.

Next Chapter

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hankwritten · 4 years ago

Text

The Weight of Other People’s Thoughts

Demoman/Soldier, 2k

Request for @lilythedragon05, Scotland

It was a bad idea to follow that tugging cord at the center of his being, the one that called him to Ullapool, and he never would have dared to entertain it if he knew it would have brought him here.

Jane sat by the ocean, stone’s throw from the town, but his distasteful frown kept his eyes locked firmly ahead instead of gazing dubiously at it. What had he been thinking? Coming to Ullapool had only make him feel worse, not better, a smirch against Tavish’s memory if there ever was one. Rubbing in Tavish’s face that he’d never go home again—and here Jane was, free to frolic across the whole damn planet, even if it took him to stupid countries ending in ‘land’.

He leaned further over his knees, barely feeling the sea breeze as he thought about his dead friend.

His murdered friend, he reminded himself. Murdered by someone who he thought he could trust, who now had to carry that guilt with him for the rest of his life.

Everywhere Jane looked it reminded him of Tavish. Maybe that’s why he’d come: self-flagellation. Appropriate punishment. Or maybe he was so desperate not to forget, he’d take the pain that came with remembering. Torturing himself truly, since he could look on the hills and surrounding coast that he had once only known through enthusiastic descriptions, see for himself the places where a young Tavish had played with dummy-grenades. He could imagine him talking to the local shopkeeps. He could practically see him walking up this very path, groceries in one hand, a newspaper filled with fried fish in the other as he took a large bite out of it-

Wait.

Tavish stopped dead, his face enveloped in utter shock. Still mid-chew, he said, “Jdra-ne?”

Jane leapt to his feet. “Apparition!” He pointed an accusing finger at the offending spirit. “Do not think for a second I will be cowed into repentance by the spectral manifestation of my guilt!”

Tavish nearly choked as he tried to swallow his bite of fish. “I…what?”

“Ghosts serve no purpose on my journey to recovery,” Jane continued. “Not even ones that look like my dead friend! Be gone creature of the other world!”

“What I- I’m not bloody dead.”

Jane squinted at him. He definitely didn’t look dead, totally opaque, no fettered chains representing his sins in life and his guilt over failing to help his fellow Man.

“…Are you sure?” Jane pressed.

“You’d think someone would know if they were dead,” Tavish grumbled poignantly, now glaring at Jane for some reason.

“I killed you though. It was-” -pickaxe right through the sternum, crushing, all the red bits coming out when they should have been in- “That was definitely fatal.”

“Aye, was, but I managed to limp my was back into Respawn range. Took a better part of an hour, but I made it.”

There was something odd to Tavish’s voice, something he wasn’t saying, but the realization that he might actually-seriously-really be alive was starting to set in and Jane was too afraid to believe it.

He took a step closer, past the bench he’d been enjoying his solitude at and completing a full circle around the Demoman. Tavish’s head followed him all the while, up until Jane came to a stop in front of him. “…Promise you are not a ghost?”

“I’m not a ghost,” Tavish said, as convincingly honest as he’d always been. Not that his acting skills hadn’t covered for his mendacity before-

-no, no that was a trick, it all turned out to be a lie a damn lie-

“Fine then. You’re not.” Though Jane would keep his eyes peeled for phantasmal anyway. “What the hell are you doing here then?”

“I live here,” Tavish huffed. “Gravel Wars are over, wasn’t going to spend the rest of my years in some blighted desert. Better question is what are you doing here, yank?”

Crap. Well, maybe a half-truth would suffice. “You always talked so much about Scotland I thought…” He rubbed the back of his neck. “I wanted to see what all the fuss was about.”

Tavish stood there, one hand still clasped around his groceries. The moment dragged on, vast seas of unsaid things between them, of regrets still festering, to which he ended with, “would you like me to show you around?”

Jane looked down, trying not to stare at his shoes but instead at the foreign soil around them. “…Sure. Why not.”

“Everything is incredibly vertical,” Jane complained as they climbed up yet another hill Tavish insisted was part of the journey.

“Aye, that’s why they call it the Highlands, BLU.”

Jane hated how fucking smug he sounded. Hated, and missed it all the same, missed how this bastard could set a fire in his gut just with one of his damn smiles.

“And there she is,” the Demoman said proudly as the crested the final ridge.

“Damn. Really went to crap in the last couple centuries.”

“Oi, don’t point fingers at me! I’ve only been around for forty of those.”

DeGroot Keep was shriveled and hunchbacked since Jane had last seen it, folding under its own legacy as ages had eaten the tallest spires first and chewed its way down to the cob. Still, he could just make out the choke points, the parapets, the places he used to go charging into with his mêlée weapon held high—all sanded down by the years, the vaguest memories of control points where a portal in time had briefly allowed Jane to witness their existence.

“So what,” he asked, following Tavish into the slight dip in the Highlands where the Keep nestled, “you live in here like some sort of anti-Italian?”

“An anti- what now?”

“Anti-Italians! Despises sun, allergic to garlic, doesn’t show up in mirrors, no sex life. Basic literary reference, RED.”

Tavish rolled his eye. “No, I’m not squatting in the dilapidated castle. Got a perfectly nice home down in the village, I just happen to have inherited this along with…all the other crap.” He waved his hand. “I’ve considered shelling out to having it restored but…dunno. Seeing it go from its heyday to this makes me think that in another couple hundred years it’ll just fall apart again.”

He sat on a piece of tumbled rock, one that used to hang over the Keep’s gate, a bright and shining keystone now used as a stool. Jane joined him.

“Don’t get much of this at home, do you? Old crap. Yer country’s still a wee babe you know, nothing’s even falling apart yet.”

“Incorrect!” Jane amended. “There are plenty of old things in America!”

“For last time lad, Thomas Edison wasn’t immortal, and he didn’t be build a second Shangri-La under Pennsylvania Avenue.”

“Your statements reveal both your ignorance and your compunction, but I was actually talking about mounds.”

“Mounds,” Tavish repeated dubiously.

“Yes! Mounds! Fourteen hundred years ago Americans were building ceremonial mounds in order to track celestial events! They look like animals from the top, lynx, bears, fish, all that crap. I used to walk next to this bird one every day on the way to school.”

Tavish blinked at him, tilting his head. “No offense Jane, but including Native people usually isn’t in your worldview. Where’d you even learn all ‘o that?”

“My mother taught me, so think insinuating more cyclops—lest you show disrespect against her memory and I am forced to take out your other socket!”

Tavish raised his hands defensively, but there was a smile creeping at the corner. “Alright, alright, I get ye. A Mum’s honor is a serious thing.”

“Hm. Good.” Jane glanced ahead, suddenly afraid of lapsing back into silence, as though Tavish would start to slip away from him if they did. “How is your mother?”

“Ah…she passed some years back.”

“…I’m sorry to hear that.”

“It’s alright.” Tavish paused. “I still see her sometimes.”

“Metaphorically or…?”

Tavish glanced at him, but then away just a quickly, as though frightened of what he might see. “I’d rather not talk about it, if that’s alright with you.” Instead, he stared ahead, the sun setting between its cradle within the mountains. “Heh. At least there’s something that’s the same no matter where you go. Always a sunset.”

“Guess so.”

Still, Jane found he liked this one better than the ones back home. At least, better than all the ones he’d seen before he’d met Tavish.

The next day was spent in the village, and Jane couldn’t help but yearn for more of Tavish’s time, more of his attention. His friend. His friend who was still alive. Tavish had a kind word for every person they passed, all of whom didn’t seem to notice Jane at all, simply starting up a conversation with their fellow local and submitting to the rhythm of the morning. Breakfast was some sort of potato scone, but Jane wasn’t hungry, so he just walked beside Tavish as the other man ate. They found themselves at the same bench where they’d first run into each other.

“So,” Tavish asked. “Ullapool everything you thought it would be?”

“Hm. It’s…nice. It is obviously not perfect for geographical reasons entirely outside of its control, but. I understand how it made you the man you are.”

“Me? Nah.” Tavish wiped off his mouth with his sleeve. “I made myself like this.”

Again, he wouldn’t look at Jane, wouldn’t say what they were both thinking. That things had gone wrong, that they had both fucked up. One of them more than the other, but Jane had found him again, and maybe they could still figure something out, still have time to unearth all that they had deemed too dangerous and buried in the sand.

Jane reached forward, and put his hand over where Tavish’s was resting on the bench.

And watched it pass straight through.

Jane sprang away. “I knew it! I knew you were a ghost!”

Likewise, Tavish stood up sharply. “I am not. I bloody told you I was’t.”

“Liar! I will not be swayed by any more perjury from your ethereal mouth!”

“I’m not lying!” Tavish snarled at him, his eye dark and narrowed, burning hotter than the words would imply. “I never lied. I never wanted any of-”

“Blasphemy!”

“Would you just listen for-!”

“You cannot guilt me apparition! For I know that-”

“Shut up! Just fucking shut up!” Tavish’s fist closed around the neck of his scrumpy bottle, half drained before noon, and threw it full force at Jane’s head.

Jane raised an arm to block the incoming blow, but the impact never arrived. A second ticked by, then two, then three, and slowly he lowered his forearm to reveal the panting Demoman behind it, shoulders heaving and an inscrutable expression tearing across his features.

“How’s that for the truth you bleeding idiot,” he said.

Jane looked to Tavish, then rotated his neck slowly, staring at the bottle that had landed in the grass behind him. He blinked, willing what he was looking at to make sense, to suddenly disappear and go back to where things were a second ago. To believe he hadn’t seen that bottle connected with his own nose.

There was something he didn’t want to do, but he did it anyway, turning his gaze forward inch by agonizing inch, staring down at his own hands. Fully taking how translucent they were.

The moment shattered, Tavish tore his eye away. “Fuck. Fuck I’m sorry. I shouldn’t’ve…”

Jane was still looking at his hands. There was panic, deep and overwhelming rising within him, but there was no raised pulse to accompany it, no sweat on the back of his neck.

He lifted his chin to Tavish. “What? I don’t…”

“I didn’t die,” Tavish said thickly. “You did. I killed you and I walked off and you just bled out for who knows how long and-”

-the pickaxe but also a sword, just as deadly buried two feet into his chest and the man above him trying to shove it in a few extra inches, strangled screaming as it pushed deeper-

Jane hadn’t been paying attention to the last half of Tavish’s muttered confession. The Demoman was crying now, pawing furiously at his one lone eye as stared out valley below them, looking anywhere but at Jane as his sclera turned red.

“I’m sorry,” he sputtered. “Christ Jane I’m so fucking sorry. If you came to haunt me or whatever I just- I just want you to know that you can’t hate me more than I hate myself. That it’s been killing me every day since.”

He collapsed on the bench, curling away from Jane as he buried his face in his hands.

It could have been some sort of trick. A ghost bottle or…no Jane wouldn’t even try. He attempted to remember what flight he had come in on but couldn’t. He grasped for how many years since the Gravel Wars had ended, and couldn’t find the answer.

Jane was a ghost, yet everything still hurt as much as it had when he had lived. Immaterial, and he still so badly wanted to touch Tavish’s hand.

He sat on the bench next to him. “I didn’t come to make you feel bad, Tavish.”

“Then why did you come?” It sounded like it was meant to be venomous, but instead it only sounded empty—empty and wet with tears, like a plastic bag trampled into a puddle.

Jane looked down at his hands. His useless, ghost hands that he could still knit together. “I…I wanted to see you,” he said truthfully. “I missed you.”

Tavish looked at him, bleary-eyed. He whispered, “I missed you too. So damn much.”

“Whatever I was doing before, I missed you enough to come here. To someplace I thought you would be.”

A panicked jolt crossed Tavish’s face. “You’re not leaving, are you?” The same man who a moment ago thought Jane had come to smother him with guilt was despondent at the idea that Jane might go after all, that he wouldn’t get a chance to hurt himself with his own regret anymore.

“No, no not yet,” Jane said. He tried his best to wrap and arm around Tavish’s shoulder. The mortal shivered where their skin met.

“Okay,” Tavish said quietly. “Okay. Good. Thank you. I don’t think I can…When I saw you sitting up here I couldn’t believe it could be fore something good. That the only reason you’d want to haunt me would be because you hated me.”

“I don’t hate you.”

It was true. Even though he remembered now, remember lying there, thinking how they’d killed each other, Jane had only ever hated the man who’d believed the TV’s lies.

“I really did come because I was thinking of you. Missing you.” Jane paused. “Today was fun. I’m sure you have a lot of other places to show me, right private?”

“…Sure. Sure whatever you want.” Tavish wiped at his nose. “I’m sorry Jane.”

“It’s alright Tavish.” He held his head in the crook of Tavish’s neck. “I’m sorry too.”

#demosolly #boots n bombs #tf2 fanfiction

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amerrierworld · 4 years ago

Text

Babysitter (pt 9)

Thor (Ragnarok) - fanfiction

Pt 1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 | 7 | 8

Summary: A Loki interlude.

Characters: Hela, Loki

Word Count: 2,111

Warnings: Idk, swearing?

Loki was incredibly annoyed at the current situation.

He’d woken up on a random, clunky spaceship with a pounding head and a bruised neck. He remembered the world going blank and being quite certain that he’d been dead until, frustratingly so, his lungs gasped for the most painful breath he’d ever taken.

A janky pirate ship had snatched him from floating in space amongst the debris, stripped him of his armour -no doubt to sell or melt down into other knick knacks- and left him in the back amongst the cargo. They’d presumed he was dead, so when he had woken up, they had a bit of a shock.

Not a word was comprehensible, Loki couldn't understand whatever gibberish language they spoke, so he ignored them and shuffled to their food supply. That got him a whack on his back from a whip and a kick to the back of the knees.

Trying to take back his armour also earned him a few bruises. They didn’t seem very dangerous, but quite a nuisance.

Amongst the cargo he found familiar debris that struck an icy chord inside Loki. There were piles of Asgardian clothing- ripped and filthy, but Asgardian nonetheless. Bags with very few belongings, and metal scraps of the ship they had been on.

It didn’t take a genius to figure out that the remainder of the ship of refugees was probably lost. When the pirates began to beat him again for rummaging through their stuff, a rusty old pipe amongst the stolen goods helped quiet them down immensely.

With his kidnappers knocked out, Loki scarfed down what measly rations they had and set course for Earth at light speed -well, the closest speed they got to light speed which was more like a quick paced jog.

He tied up the crew and tossed them in the back, and lounged in the cockpit as the ship traveled on autopilot, picking scraps of food from between his teeth.

Communications on this ship were absolute garbage, he concluded. There was barely any signal and he couldn’t figure out where the closest planet was. So, he took a nap, ate some more food, and tried not to think too much about the harrowing experience of Thanos choking him to death.

Hours later, they entered a very familiar atmosphere. Loki let the ship crash-land, grabbed a bag of few supplies and hopped out just before they hit the ground.

He marched on through the thicket of trees where they landed. Angry shouts that were no doubt curse words echoed from the smoking ship as he left them behind and tried to gather his bearings.

An old cabin was the first building he saw. With a rusty dagger at the ready, he inspected the home around the back, looking for a vehicle he could take, something to get him moving faster than his legs, when suddenly a high pitched shriek nearly shattered his eardrums.

A young girl, no older than six, was staring at him with big brown eyes. Rain boots covered in mud, an aged stuffy in her hands. Loki put his finger to his lips, dreading that he was going to have to kill the girl before she gave him away or screamed bloody murder.

“Daddy! There’s an Avenger in the yard!” she sped off towards a shed, where there was a light on inside. Loki’s shoulders slumped in disappointment. Whatever outcome he was expecting, this was by far the worst.

“I’m not- fuck.”

He shoved the dagger away and out of sight and stomped towards the shed, fuming with annoyance. He was about to go off at the man for letting his daughter talk to random strangers and how he certainly was not an Avenger, but the man in question had a large saw in hand and about 200 pounds of muscle to carry, so he snapped his mouth shut.

“Oh, hello there,” he said, his daughter bouncing about the workshop. “What brings one of you all the way out here?”

“And where exactly is out here?” Loki asked.

“Canada! What, you superheroes never been to Canada before? Always hanging around New York, eh? Are you taking a trip or something?”

“No. I, uh, crash-landed here.”

“From space?” the girl piped up, gawking.

“Yes, from space,” Loki said through gritted teeth. “Fighting angry aliens.”

“I told you, Daddy! He’s a hero!”

“I bet you’re trying to find your way to America, then? Lord knows why, there’s all kinds of weird things happening around town nowadays.”

“What do you mean?”

“Half the world’s gone! Poof! Just like that, some alien business I bet.”

“Are you going to save us from them?” his daughter asked again. Loki sighed.

“I’ll try my best. Now, can you please show me how to get to New York as fast as possible?”

The lumberjack’s husband took Loki and his daughter in his jeep and drove a merry long way to the nearest airport. On the way, the little girl asked him all sorts of questions about the Avengers, that he could only half-answer.

“Is it true Thor is super powerful?”

“Well. He's not that powerful. He just uses a hammer. Anyone with a hammer can use it as a weapon and suddenly be considered powerful.”

“I wish I had a super powerful hammer. Then my brothers would stop teasing me so much.”

“Hey,” her second father softly scolded.

“They’re mean!”

“Sibling feuds? I know the feeling,” Loki muttered.

“Do you have siblings, Mr. Avenger?”

“Sure do,” he smiled wryly. “Absolute bullies.”

“Me too!”

“Hey now, let our guest settle down a bit,” her dad said. “She gets a little excited around new people, so sorry.”

“It’s no problem.”

“The local airport’s just up here. It’ll take you to Detroit, and then you gotta get a connection flight to New York.”

“Thank you,” Loki said, genuinely.

“Why are you going to New York, Mr. Avenger?”

“To find my siblings,” Loki sighed. “At least, one of them should still be there.”

“But they’re mean to you?”

“Yeah,” Loki pondered as the car came to a stop. “But they’re family. I suppose.”

A few cunning lies and disguises later, Loki was suddenly landing in New York, amidst chaos. It had been a few days since he’d woken up, and apparently a few days since what they call the ‘Blip’. Humans clearly don’t like having their realities altered.

Your home was abandoned. Alfred didn't even greet Loki at the door, and no amount of pulling and prying opened it for him. The lights were off, and he feared the worst.

It wasn’t until he was in the streets and overhead muttering about some crazy goth lady terrorizing a nearby street that Loki thought he had finally found something.

He marched down the street until, to his surprise, he found Hela sitting hunched on the side walk, scowling and daring anyone to come close to her. She looked incredibly tired and disheveled, but her eyes were clear and angry, and recognized her idiot brother immediately.

“What the hell brought you back here?” Hela snarled.

“A toddler’s wisdom, if you’ll believe it,” Loki said, ignoring her glare as he sat down next to her.

“You look like shit.”

“Thanks. So do you.”

Hela grumbled.

“Have you eaten?”

“Since when did you become Mother? I don't need your help.”

“Really?” Loki picked up a filthy scoop from a pile of three ice cream tubs that were fully devoured. He dangled it from his fingertips for a moment, pulling a face. “I think you do.”

“You’re supposed to be dead.”

“Glad to see you too, sister.”

Silence. Hela really did look like shit, Loki noted. Her hair was mussed, and there were rips and broken pieces in her armour, reminiscent of the time they’d met. She had to be weak not to bother fixing it with her powers, or was just too preoccupied to even think to fix it.

“Where’s Y/N?” Loki asked.

“Beats me.”

“Did you kill her?”

Hela’s eyes snapped to his, a sudden fire in them. “How dare you say that?”

“Well, her home is abandoned and no one answered the door, and you’re here cowering like a criminal. One makes conclusions.”

Something changed in her expression, and she turned her body to face him. “Abandoned?”

Loki frowned, “yes. Didn't you know?”

“No- I.. I’ve been here, the last time I saw her...”

Hela jumped to her feet, nearly kicking Loki in the process. “That bastard, he took her, didn’t he? Him and his awful, forsaken pieces of shit he calls friends.”

“Who?”

“Our darling brother,” she spat. “He came in and- and threatened me, and then took her from me.”

She paced in front of him, green fire trailing behind her heels, hot with anger. She had expected you to come find her, take her back to your home, make her feel safe. But when you never came she had assumed you had abandoned her. Now, knowing Thor had taken you instead, filled her with rage.

“Where does your little posse hang out, hm? Some supposed secret lair? A great big castle in the sky?”

Loki blinked at her, at her sudden outbursts, at the scared glances from passerbys, and didn’t know what to say.

“Fine then, I’ll get her myself,” she growled, turning away from him.

Loki nearly let her walk away, let her walk into whatever doom she was getting herself into, but with a groan and a mad realization, he knew she was the only one he could rely on right now.

“Wait,” he said, reluctantly, hurrying after her and grabbing her arm. “You can’t just go running off. Tell me what happened.”

Hela spat at his feet. “I don’t need to tell you anything.”

“You care about her, don't you? Y/N? Why else would you want to ‘rescue’ her from our brother?”

“Be silent,” she hissed.

“No, no, I’m right, aren’t I? You care for her, but you messed up, and now you have no one on your side. That’s why you left, and that’s why Thor had to take her.”

Hela yanked her arm away before Loki could see her face, but he knew what she felt; remorse, and loss.

“Tell me.”

And so, reluctantly, knowing she had no other choice, Hela sat him down, this time on an actual park bench rather than the ground. She told him what had happened, how her mistrust had turned to affection for you, and how Thanos had destroyed everything in the end, and how the Avengers had fought her out of fear.

“I know the feeling,” Loki agreed, leaning forward with his elbows on his knees, watching an elderly lady feed a bunch of pigeons as if nothing drastic had happened to the world the past few days.

“And now I don't know where she is, and she probably hates me, but who am I to blame her for that?”

“If I know anything about Y/N, is that she cares about everyone, but it takes a lot more to win her love. She doesn’t hate you. She’s just afraid. I mean, you did after all break her window and run off into nowhere.”

Hela stayed quiet, made an annoyed sound in her throat, and looked away.

“I’m starving, how did you get all that ice-cream? Why not an actual meal? Or were you just eating your feelings?”

“Y/N doesn’t like it when I kill people, so it was either massacre the street or steal their dairy products,” Hela bristled.

“Fair enough.”

“Now what, hm? You come out here, seemingly from the dead, chastise me for messing up, and now judge my diet? What do you really want, Loki?”

“Not sure, to be perfectly honest,” Loki said. “I thought I was dead, and then I wasn’t. Frankly, my priorities are shifting.”

“And what is your current priority?”

“Getting you back to Y/N so you stop moping around and fix this.”

“And how do you suppose we do that?”

Loki grinned, standing up. His armour shimmered and regained its full glamour; horned helmet and deep green cloak.

“Taking notes from me, are we?” Hela grumbled. Loki glared at her.

“I was wearing this look long before you got here. Now, get up, we’re going to infiltrate the Avengers and give you your romantic happily-ever-after so you stop being such a pain in everyone’s neck.”

“You think we’ll just be able to get in? You really are as mad as Father was.”

“I’ve broken into quite a few places over the years, I’ll have you know. I’m the God of Mischief after all.”

“Am I supposed to be impressed?” Hela stood, her own armour strengthening again.

“Shut it.”

A/N: Loki is not dead! I know he’s technically alive in an alternate universe or whatever.. but I wanted the Odin Trio to be together sooooo here we are. Let me know what you think!!

taglist: @midnight-lestrange @cheerfullyvenomous @germansarechill@gaylorrds @amii-nyc @waitingfortheendtocome @novakitten0901@marvels-writings

#hela #hela x reader #hela/reader #hela x you #hela odinsdottir #thor #thor ragnarok #thor ragnarok fanfiction #loki #loki odinsin #marvel #mcu #marvel fanfiction #cate blanchett #tom hiddleston #best siblings amirite #wlw #lgbt #merry writes

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thepaperpanda · 4 years ago

Text

Relieve The Stress || Rafe Adler x Reader smut

Summary: Sex is just a stress reliever, isn't it?😏

Warnings: Smut

Words: 2435

Authors: Cass & Rouge

"Fucking Drake brothers!," Rafe growled slamming the door behind him as he stepped into his mansion.

Avery's treasure was within reach of his hands but those brothers simply had to jump in and fuck everything up. They sunk the whole ship and destroyed the whole cave, so gold was buried deep down in the water, in not reachable cave.

Rafe was lucky enough to somehow run away, even when Nadine left him to die, yet some of her men were stupid enough to stay. Rafe promised them money for help, after all.

He reached his house angry, wounded thanks to younger Drake and tired from whole trip and everything that happened in past few weeks. "I hope she is fucking here...," Rafe muttered. "Y/N!," He yelled and his voice echoed within the building.

"Rafael?," you asked as you walked outside your room and stood at the top of the wooden stairs. "Oh, God, I was so worried!," you cried out and ran downstairs to jump right into man's arms, ignoring the fact he was all dirty and seemed angry.

Rafe hissed loudly because of the bleeding gash in his stomach but still wrapped arms around your body. "I missed you too, angel, but be so kind and let go of me before my guts spill on this nice dressing-gown you're wearing," he muttered, pushing you away from him. Rafe set you aside and limped into the kitchen. "Be so sweet and fetch me the first aid kit. It should be in the bathroom. Also please grab the bottle of vodka on your way."

"Yes, honey, be right back!," announcing, you ran to grab the medical supplies and bottle of alcohol, just like he asked you for.

As soon as you got back, you grabbed his palm. "C'mon, I'll help you."

"I know how to stitch myself, angel. I don't want you to get your hands dirty with my blood," he muttered and removed his shirt, tossing it on the floor. Rafe sighed deeply, pushing his hair back in their right place. "Whole fucking treasure! Under water. Buried under fucking rocks," he growled as he started to stitch his wound. "And all because of those two clowns. Can you believe this, angel? Huh?"

With a sad grimace on your face, you walked up to him and touched his bare shoulder as gently as you could. "One day they will regret playing against you. I am sure about this," you tried to calm him down a little. "And maybe there's still a chance of getting this treasure?"

"This stupid bitch from Shoreline left me to burn on this goddamn ship," he chuckled darkly and shook his head. "But she will regret this, I wonder how her little mercenary group will go without money." Soon, Rafe was done with his wound and handed you the bandage. "You wanted to help so go for it,” he said with small smile and decided to answer your question about getting the treasure again. "Sadly no, the cave collapsed and the ship was blown. No gold for us, angel."

With your skilled fingers, you put the bandage to the wound on his stomach, from time to time gently caressing his well-outlined muscles. "I'm so sorry about the treasure, Rafe," you claimed truly, from the bottom of your heart.

You knew how much it meant to him, to get this treasure. But now everything was gone.

Rafe took your small, soft palms into his big, rough ones. He kissed your fingers gently and shrugged. "I would fucking murder both of them for this but it's not the last treasure on the planet." Suddenly, Rafe pulled you closer, wrapping his arms around your waist. "And for now I am holding my greatest treasure."

You blushed hardly at his words, it was followed by soft, nervous giggle. You never knew when he was serious with you, and when he was only playing around. "I can help you looking for another treasure, if you will want," you told him. "Once I came across a book in which some kind of treasure was mentioned. It's supposed to be hidden somewhere in France."

"Oh, how romantic. Not such a bad idea though," Rafe hummed taking the bottle of vodka you brought, he opened it and took a big sip ignoring the burning on his tongue. "I could get us the best hotel room, with the view of Eiffel Tower and fuck you all night long. Last time you liked it, angel. I honestly though the hotel staff will come to silence us," he chuckled before taking another sip.

You blushed even harder than before. "Rafael!," you giggled nervously yet nuzzled to his bare chest. "You know I have always dreamt of going to France! I'd love to see the Eiffel Tower, Louvre, ah!," you counted slowly, getting a little bit lost in thoughtfulness. "Besides, you know what I like if it comes to some other things that I am not as open about as you are," you kissed his jaw.

Rafe laughed pulling the bottle away from his lips. "Oh yeah, I know. I know my angel loves to have her tight cunt nicely fucked," Rafe hummed as his hands untied your cute, pink dressing-gown, reviling a nice set of white lace underwear. "How someone so sexy and hot can be so innocent and quiet, huh?"

"Lady in streets, tigress in sheets," you claimed and helped him take your dressing-gown off. Your hand was placed to his cheek and you looked into his beautiful eyes. "And I know that no matter how many girls you could have at once, you will always come back to me."

After these words you slowly climbed onto his lap, straddling him and making yourself comfortable.

"Oh, angel. Don't make such a bastard out of me. You have house, best stuff and me only for yourself," Rafe hummed, handing you the bottle. "C'mon, take a sip and then we can play a little."

You grabbed the bottle and looked man in the eyes. Then you started sipping from the bottle, almost downing it at once.

"You will never stop surprising me, angel," Rafe hummed and started to kiss your neck, moving down quickly.

You took a break from sipping the alcohol and with free hand you grabbed his jaw. Holding it still, you kissed him deeply, pushing your tongue into his mouth. Then, you finished the alcohol.

"Greedy," he summed up and then got up with you in his arms. Not the smartest idea for sure, taking his latest injury, but he didn't care. Rafe was full of anger inside and he needed to fuck it out of his system before he’d have gone insane. He walked with you to his bedroom. "Were you good when I was gone?"

"Always a good girl," you whispered into man's ear, nibbling onto his earlobe a little. "I was just playing with myself a little, thinking about you and your body," you informed him. "And you?"

"Because of those two fuckers I didn't even have a single moment for myself, so I couldn't jerk off to the pictures you sent me,” man growled, placing you down on the bed. "But let's be honest, nothing is better than your cunt."

"I know," you whispered, taking a lock of your hair behind your ear. "I missed you much, Rafe," you wrapped arms around his neck and gently pulled him closer to place a kisses to his jaw and lips. "Fuck me," you asked.

Rafe kissed you and laughed softly against your lips. "Oh, with pleasure, angel. This is something I need right now." He kissed you deeply, pushing his tongue into your mouth. It easily dominated your, this kiss was simply to show what he needed. Rafe's hands unclasped your bra and tossed it aside. He pulled away and looked you into the eyes before moving his rough palms down your body until he reached your panties.

You laid your back on a mattress, aching your back a little as his hands found your soft, sweet spot. You cupped your breasts and squeezed them a little. With a soft grin dancing on your lips, you observed his movements. "Don't play with me, darling, as I miss you fucking much," you mumbled quietly. Feeling how alcohol started to overwhelm your body and mind, you slipped hand down your body, right into your panties. You rubbed your already wet clit and then reached to his jeans.

He grabbed your hands and pulled them away. "No touching, angel,” he winked at you and then removed your panties before removing the rest of his own clothes. Rafe was hard for your already, the mix of all the emotions inside of him only fired up his need for you. "So ya say you want me to fuck you, huh? Beg for it."

"Oh, Rafael!," you moaned unhappily. You writhed in bed in all possible ways. "Fuck me, don't let me wait any longer for that cock to stretch me out nicely," you whined and rubbed thighs together to release some of your arousal. "I need you to fill me up with this cock. This little cunt missed your length as fucking much as now is dripping for you."

"I love when this angel begs like a whore," Rafe said and got comfortable between your legs. "Since you ask me so nicely, I will grant your wish." He wasted no more time and pushed into you, setting a rough and fast pace from the beginning.

With parted lips you rolled your head back, gasping loudly as your back arched. Instinctively, your legs were wrapped tightly around his angular hips. "Yes!," you screamed as your pussy already clenched for him, making it almost impossible for him to pull out of you.

"C'mon, angel, relax a little. You want me to fuck you, remember?," Rafe teased and his lips traveled to one of your nipples. He sucked and bite it gently while his other hand took care of the other nipple.

"I'm... trying...," you whimpered quietly. Soon, you relaxed within his arms, still moaning like a little kitten. "Harder, harder, baby!," you whined for him, trying your best to roll your hips.

Rafe followed your wish, fucking you as fast and hard as you wanted it. His hand moves between your bodies to play with your clit. "You like it, angel?," He growled, looking at you.

"Yes," you replied shortly, licking your lips with the tip of your tongue. "Fuck, it's so good!" You let him fuck you hardly, but when you were close enough that it started to hurt, you touched his cheek to gain his attention. "I wanna ride your cock."

Rafe let you a quiet sound that was mix of a anger and growl, nuzzling to your palm. Feeling that you're getting close, he slowed down his movements and placed a soft kiss to your lips. "Just because you were a good girl," Rafe said quietly and then flipped both of you so you were on top of him.

As you got comfortable on his lap, you started rolling your hips for him, back and forth, constantly. You rolled head back and laced hands to his chest, scratching his skin lightly, paying extra attention to his neck as you knew he loved it. You leant down, trying your best to not touch his bandaged wound, and you kissed him while still moving up and down his hard cock.

"Fuck,” he growled into the kiss pushing his hips up a little to give you a thrust. "C'mon, angel. Don't be shy and cum around my cock. I can feel this sweet cunt getting tighter," Rafe said and his hand returned to your clit, pinching it gently.

You straightened your back and made sure his hands were placed to your hips; you simply adored it when he was holding you tight when you two were having sex. "Beg for it," you teased him with an innocent smirk on your rosy lips. You cheeks were blushed from the tiredness that manifested in faster breathing and drops of sweat on your chest.

He frowned looking at you. "Oh, you poor soul. Angel, you should know by now that I don't beg for anything. I take what I want," Rafe smiled and started to thrust his hips up into you while his fingers started to seriously abuse your clit.

"Fuck...," You cursed loudly and rolled your hips as fast as it was possible.

Then, your pussy clenched so tightly around his cock and it started clenching rhythmically that all you could do was scream his name over and over again until all of your juices and wetness covered his member.

Rafe kept his pace looking up at you with proud smile and soon filled you up with his warm cum. "Now, you see? It wasn't so hard, angel,” he sat up and kissed your lips deeply.

You gave the kiss back and pushed him back in the mattress. You got off his lap and made sure to suck his cock clean after this little adventure. When you were done, you laid by his side, putting your head to his chest, and putting one arm on it as well. Nuzzling to him, you smiled and pressed your lips to his cleavage. "Is it a proper moment to remind you that you're irreplaceable?," You whispered quietly.

Rafe laughed. "Oh, angel. No need to remind me, I know this,” he shrugged and wrapped his arm around you. "Where will you find another rich, handsome and clever man as me?"

"Let's think...," You hummed and looked up at him while placing your chin to his chest. "Maybe I should start dating older Drake? "

"Then I would find you, love," he said looking down on you, "And I would make sure that no one else, not even Sam himself would want you. Acid can really destroy this pretty face," Rafe said fully seriously. "You’re mine, remember this,” he reminded you, squeezing you a little tighter.

You were looking at him with serious face, but shortly after you burst with laughter. "I know, I'm only yours, baby," you informed him and kissed his lips. "Don't need to threaten me in our shared bed. If you'll keep on this, you’ll have to jerk your sweet dick for next few weeks," you tapped his nose and got up from the bed. "I'm going to take a shower, and you take some rest."

Rafe shook his head. "I need a shower too, at least I will have some more time with you,” he said following you.

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