#she is bound to him and him setting her free and promising to forget her is his way of finally recognizing his part in her story

[fischiee]

at the end of the day church and tex are pygmalion and galatea and we just have to accept that. like the story of the sculptor who fell in love with his own art

bc she really is just his own creation that he loves and wants to love him back and wants to be whole but she’s.. not. she’ll never be anything outside of him, she’d never exist if it weren’t for his imagination (since she isn’t truly allison she is his concocted version of her) and because of that she can’t be human

he loves her as some fucked of version of loving himself (he loves who he was when he was with her and loves that he created her and that she is wholly his)

the difference is that alpha is no god, no aphrodite, and he cannot create life, he can only fragment himself which is why they do not get the happy ending of pygmalion and galatea, they instead are doomed to repeat and echo the agonies of the people they mimic

[mika-no-sekai-blog]

Part VII

Word count: 4400+

Warnings: mentions of blood and suffocation

Autumn themed divider by tsunami-of-tears

Part VI | Part VIII

Eris kept his promise. At first, he met with you just once or twice a week, but lately it had been happening more and more often. That old library full of books and lacquered wood was your most frequented meet place. It took you some time, but eventually you learnt how to get there on your own and didn't need anyone's help.

Most recently, though your husband started to prefer meetings in his free time. He began showing up for meals in the chambers or invited you to secluded gazebo in the garden. Sometimes he even managed to take a break for hour or two and replacing your maids, now your best friends, he escorted you to the gardens, showing you secret paths. He knew this place as the back of his hand and you wondered how the heir could have so much time to explore it so well. It was so easy to forget about the fact that he had centuries to do so, his young appearance seemingly giving him maximally 9 years over you.

Time was passing in a slow flow of peaceful days when nobody expected you to submit, to stay still, to not think, speak or feel. Nobody bound you with ridiculous rules and you felt happier than ever. The memories of the nineteen years of your life were impossible to forget and you often wondered whether this life was just a fantasy of your tortured mind. Whether they finally broke you beyond the repair. It was strange that in this huge castle, you had ever met only Eris, his brother and advisor Killian, Ellen and Irene and several servants and guards. Were you the only ones living here? Where were the others?

These thoughts occupied your mind so much that you completely forgot about your upcoming birthday.

Back in Hewn City your birthday was a day as any other. Nobody celebrated it. You never got presents. You knew when you were born only thanks to your mother who every year secretly whispered you happy birthday. Your father most likely didn't remember it at all, so you strongly doubted that he could share such information with your husband or his court. You've never been asked about it, too. Thus you didn't expect anything to happen.

How surprised you were when Irene came to your chambers one afternoon with a bright smile, followed by servants who carefully brought in tailor's figurine in dress and set it down.

The doors closed behind the last servant and you could finally take a proper look. It was the most beautiful dress you had ever seen, worth of a queen.

Your eyes lingered on the bodice of bronze colour with sweetheart neckline that was held on place by ribbons with bows of the same colour. It looked like an polished armour thanks to the top layer of shiny chiffon and the crest of Autumn Court embroidered in its centre. If it wasn't for a gauzy floating sleeves falling from the shoulders, it would be too eccentric for you to dare to even wear it.

The bodice naturally flowed into a skirt composed of feather shaped strips of a dark silk and an embroidered chiffon in muted colours of autumn. The skirt pooled on the floor around the base of figurine, creating a train. The slit in the front part of it was reaching up to the half of thighs, undoubtedly supposed to reveal the legs with every step.

Irene took out the shoes she brought in a box. Simple lacquered black high heels were decorated with delicate bronze leaves and flowers that connected into complicated ornament of bronze wires in the front.

You had to sit down, short for a breath. You'd never seen anything like this in Hewn City. Your High Lady, her sisters and Morrigan usually wore impressive dresses, but this.. This was the masterpiece.

"Why.. What is this dress for?" you stuttered unable to take your eyes off of it.

Irene smiled sheepishly. "High Lord had it all made for you for tonight."

"For tonight?" You fished in your memory, but Eris hadn't mention anything to you despite of meeting him only a few hours ago.

"Yes, there's going to be a banquette. But let's get you ready. We have a lot to do."

"Wait. Where's Ellen?" You hadn't seen her since you returned from a walk.

"Oh, don't worry. She should be here anytime soon."

Irene helped you with bath and while your hair was drying she worked on your face. She chose palette of eye shadows that matched the dress, creating intrigued but for you maybe too heavy makeup. Ever since you left Hewn City you used only bare minimum and very light natural makeup. When Irene was applying a dark red rouge on your lips, doors opened and Ellen walked in with covered satin pillow. She was beaming.

"I'm so glad that you haven't started without me," she said as she left the pillow on the bed. "I already thought that I won't make it in time."

From the minimal reaction to the dress it was clear that she, as well as Irene, had already seen it before and so she wasn't surprised at all.

"I can't wait to see you in that magnificent dress. I tell you, our High Lord has a good eye."

Irene fixed last details of your face and they both helped you into the dress. But before you could look in a mirror, they ushered you back to the vanity.

"Don't be impatient and let us finish your look. You will love it," they reassured you and started to braid your thick hair into a complicated hairstyle. Of course, they didn't forget to cover the mirror so you couldn't see what they were doing. At last Ellen took the thing that she brought on the satin pillow and they put it on your head. It was round and a bit heavier than a headdresses you used to wear to balls under the mountain.

"We are done," they announced proudly with tears lining their eyes. They helped you to stand up and then took few steps back to take a better look of you.

"Y/N, you are so beautiful," they sobbed in unison. "Our High Lady."

"But I'm no High Lady," you objected in embarrassment.

"You are. Look!"

They moved the tall mirror, so you finally could take a look at yourself. The breath caught in your throat and you staggered. A powerful High Lady was staring back at you with slightly opened blood red lips. The dress perfectly hugged your body, accentuating your curves. And as if it wasn't enough, on top of your head sat a real gold crown of twisted twigs decorated with maple leaves made of opals and rubies. You looked as a totally different person, despite the fact that in your heart you were still that powerless, scared female.

You stood there staring at yourself until another knock sounded on the doors. Irene rushed to answer.

"You look so good, my Lord," you heard her say.

"If I knew that an angel will greet me here, I would wear something more fancy," you heard Killian's flirty response. "Is our fairy princess ready?"

"She is and she is fabulous. Even you will be short for words once you see her." She fully opened the doors and let him in. Killian affectionately pinched her cheek as he passed her and then he tripped, his mouth hanging open as his eyes roamed over you.

"What.." He gazed at you, speechless.

"If this doesn't break him.." he muttered under his breath. Then he cleared his throat.

"I'm here to escort you, my dear sister. Instead of Eris who will be a bit late, unfortunately. Can you give us a moment?" He turned to the smiling maids who bowed to him and left.

Killian returned back to you with serious expression, giving you a sorrowful look.

"Now listen carefully, doll. I have to warn you. Our court.. it's quite brutal kind of place like your home," he grimaced. "That's one of the reasons why Eris has changed several things here before your arrival and now keeps a whole wing of castle only for family. We, and I mean me and Eris, have to behave in certain way to be able to keep these people under control. Our beloved father made sure that they are all just as wicked bastards as he was. A single slip and we could be seen as weak, incompetent and easy to replace. We don't have resources to stop a revolution right now as Eris just took over the place. Once we have reins firmly in our hands and certain changes we are working on, are made, everything will be different and we can be who we are wherever we want. But for now, bear with us, will you?"

You blinked in confusion. "What are you trying to tell me?"

"What I meant is that we will be a bit different than our usual selves, brutish and rude if I should be honest. You probably already noticed it at your wedding. Eris had to hold back a lot that night."

You remembered the cold, contemptuous frown he wore while watching the dancers and the small cracks when you glimpsed his true self underneath it. If you learnt something about him this last few weeks, it was that he wasn't that kind of person in real. That he was in fact the opposite of all the rumours you'd ever heard about him. You slowly nodded.

"Tonight won't be ideal. Just think about it as about a masquerade. Nevertheless, I hope you'll enjoy it. It's your night after all and I prepared something special to make it more bearable. Let's go." He took your hand, heading for the doors.

"Wait!" You pulled back, stopping him. "My night? What do you mean?"

"You'll see," fox like grin spread on his face, amber eyes shone with mischief. "Oh, and one more thing. I guess I don't need to tell you this as you'll probably fall back to your old ways anyway, but be careful when someone approaches you. Not everyone who seems to be friendly, is our friend in real."

If all the strange stuff he told you before didn't seriously scare you then this last warning did.

Killian led you down the staircases and hallways, until you stopped before great double doors which you immediately recognised. It was the same ball room where your wedding party was held.

"Time to once again meet the elite of your subjects, your Grace," Killian winked at you and in an instant his brand smirk was gone replaced by that cold demeanour and bored expression he had when you met him for the first time.

He unhooked your hand from his arm and sharply opened the doors.

"Welcome her Grace, consort of High Lord of Autumn Court," his deep voice called into the room and everyone immediately fell silent.

You inhaled shakily. He didn't give you much time to prepare, but the lessons that were beaten into you, were good at least for something. You straightened your shoulders, holding your head up and the gaze down, and walked in.

A wave of surprised 'ah' and 'oh' ran through the gathered crowd and they all bowed down like one man. With the same bored expression Killian offered you a hand and with the other one behind his back, he gallantly led you to the steps and a table with three chairs, the middle one bigger and higher than the other two.

He was showing you off, making a spectacle of you and the dress. You felt like a trophy. As far as you knew, Lady of Autumn never wore crowns, only smaller tiaras. They were sending out some kind of message, but you weren't experienced in such political matters to understand it better. The number of glares you felt on you pierced your skin like blades, making you even more nervous and feel sick.

He held one of the smaller chairs for you and then taking the other one, clapped his hands. Everyone took their seats and servants started to bring in food.

In the chaos you got a chance to look around. The ballroom was huge, a show of opulence with its white and golden walls and high vaulted ceiling. It was decorated with garlands of autumn leaves of mainly red colours that contrasted with all that gold, hanging between massive chandeliers with fae lights. In the vases next to each marble pillar around the perimeter of the room were big bouquets of flowers in yellow and red colours. The last rays of the setting sun penetrated through the rows of windows that led to the terrace and bathed the room in a golden glow. It was breathtaking.

Each of the tables was also decorated with smaller arrangements of flowers combined with leaves. It perfectly matched the gold goblets, cutlery and trays. However, in the arrangement before your plate you noticed small pink nerine inconspicuously stuck among the flowers so that no one else could see it. Out of the corner of your eye you looked at Killian. He nodded inconspicuously and corners of his mouth slightly twitched. Eris.

As if you called his name aloud, the doors opened and he walked in.

Eris was freshly shaved, once again shorter red hair combed back. With high black boots, ash colour breeches and tunic in the same bronze colour as your bodice, he looked like High Lord through and through. The fact was emphasized even by a massive gold crown of entwined twigs with maple leaves made of opals and rubies, a pair to the crown on your head.

The breath caught in your throat as he was heading your way. The power radiated from him with every step, swirling and seeping through his skin. Everyone in the room immediately stood up and bowed and you did so, too, with a little delay. It was a bit of shock to see the frown on his face that in any other situation would already have been replaced by a kind smile. He was again wearing the mask of cruelty that you remembered from your home. However, when he came closer you noticed the warm embers in his eyes as they traveled down your body and then back up.

He took your hand to place a kiss on back of it, eyes never leaving yours.

"You're stunning," he whispered into your skin so only you heard him.

Still holding your hand he gestured to others to sit down.

"Welcome!" His deep, sonorous voice bounced off the walls. "Today we gathered here to celebrate the 20th birthdays of my wife. May you have a long life and soon endow this court with number of heirs."

You stiffened. While others took theirs goblets and toasted to you with all kinds of expressions that you didn't want to even try to decipher, you just stood there unable to move. Killian had warned you, but those words hurt nonetheless. It reminded you of the only purpose you were supposed to live for and overshadowed even the fact that he knew when you were born and decided to celebrate it.

Heirs. You were expected to give birth to heirs like some breeding mare while you hadn't even been deflowered yet. It was like a bucket of cold water, the worst of the worst mockery.

Eris sat down and you stiffly followed him. While you were trying to push the tears back and catch a breath, servants served food on your plate. You again lost all your appetite.

Your husband next to you hesitantly reached for your hand under the table.

"Can we talk later?" he muttered. You just nodded, gazing in front of you. He squeezed your hand, running thumb over the knuckles in a calming way and sent a wave of warmth into your body. "Please, now eat."

You did as you were told, but you couldn't manage more than a few bites. With whole your being you concentrated on the small pink nerine.

It's just mask. Don't take it seriously.

No matter how many times you repeated those words in your mind, it still hurt. After the meal was over a party had begun. At first it wasn't any different from your wedding. The guests gathered on the parquet while small orchestra played in the corner.

Suddenly different kind of music played, carried on the wind from outside. It was a wild melody full of booming drums. Everyone stilled, heads turning to the gardens, there was a tension in the air. All the windows to the terrace opened at once and the smell of bonfires filled your nose. As if it was a signal, the room exploded with laughs and everyone was heading out in a crazy maze of bodies. The etiquette-obsessed nobles turned into wild magical creatures right before your eyes.

Eris turned to his brother with raised brow. "I don't remember mentioning bonfires." The anger in his voice cause a shiver ran down your spine.

"She's twenty only once," Killian shrugged, unaffected.

Eris shook his head in disbelief. "As if she shouldn't see it every year at the equinox."

Killian rolled his eyes. "This way it at least will be some fun. Let's go out," Killian laughed and he was actually hopping on the way out. It was really comical to see such outgrown male doing so. If it was a different kind of situation, you would have laughed until you couldn't more.

Eris watched his back, frowning. "I'm sorry. This isn't what I wanted, not that I-," he sighed in disappointment, running his hand over face. His lips pressed into a thin line. "And I'm also sorry for what I said for a toast. That isn't what I really-.."

"It's fine," you stopped him. You didn't want to hear that anyway. All you wanted at the moment was to go out so you didn't have to be alone with him. And that's what you did. "Are we going?"

"Sure," he caught up with you in a few long steps and offering you a hand, he led you to the terrace. His steps faltered before you got to the windows. "No. Wait. I can't leave it like this."

He took your chin between his index finger and thumb, making you to look up into his amber eyes that burned like fires. The lights in the room dimmed until you stood there in almost complete darkness and the only light was coming from outside.

"I want to make things clear right now. I don't want you to be angry with me for wrong reasons. I asked Killian to prepare you for this, but I should have known better and do it myself in the morning when I had chance. Fuck all surprises." He swallowed hard, his gaze boring into you, pleading you to understand. Your lower lip quivered. He was still angry. "Except of the long life part I didn't mean it. All I really wish for is your happiness. I don't.." He exhaled shakily, composing himself.

"Maybe you've already noticed it, but you aren't a prisoner here nor I expect from you anything you don't want to give me. This all.. I wanted for you something that you could fully enjoy, but there are certain expectations that I have to fulfill currently. We can't leave right away," he gestured to the gardens and the guests scattered there, "but there's going to be another birthday celebration for you after this. The real one. The sincere one, even though not so pompous as this all. Just the two of us. And maybe Kill, if he won't be too drunken. I promise."

You listened to his words which he spoke with such urgency in voice, something really atypical for him. As he was talking, the tears gathered in your eyes.

"I understand. I really do. Killian told me that I shouldn't take it seriously. I'm so sorry for my behaviour."

"You have any right for that." His thumb wiped away a tear before it could roll down your face and destroy Irene's hard work. Hand lingering on your cheek, his eyes fell to your lips and then returned back to your eyes, asking for permission. A small nod was all he needed to slowly lean down. His soft lips brushed over yours, his breath fanned over your face. When you didn't back out, he claimed your lips in a tender kiss, lazily moving. Tip of his tongue pressed between your lips, looking for a way in. Before you could grant him entry, his chest vibrated with a low growl and he broke the kiss, resting forehead on your shoulder.

"Mother help me," he whispered out of breath. "You are so beautiful today, a goddess."

You shook your head, trying to calm down your racing heart. "I heard that you ordered this dress for me."

"I wanted them all to see their powerful High Lady, to fall on their knees in front of you," he snorted, "but your beauty exceeded my expectations. You have me in your grip, my Lady. At least for tonight, do whatever you want with me. I'll gladly accept it all."

You gasped in surprise and blushed, but he only grinned mischievously, took your hand and led you out. "This is the real Autumn Court," he waved his hand, showing you the bonfires on a meadow behind the flower garden.

The flames were shooting high into the sky, the wine was flowing in streams and all the lords and ladies had turned into a wild creatures, laughing and dancing around. Nobody cared about the status or manners.

In distance you saw Killian with feral grin dancing with some girl near the bonfire, their bodies swirled around each other and it was impossible to tell where one began and the other ended. It felt as if you were witnessing something inappropriate and had the urge to turn away, but you couldn't take your eyes off of them.

"Come," Eris's deep voice growled near your ear and your toes curled at its undertone promising you the same level of wildness and intimacy that those two had. He pulled on your hand, amber eyes burning, same wolfish smile on his lips.

The rhythm of drums pulsed through your veins and you got carried away by it. Eris led you through the rippling crowd to the closest bonfire and without warning pulled you to his body.

It was pure madness.

Without knowing the steps, led only by those drums and instincts, you swirled around each other, bodies pressed together so firmly there was no space in between you. His warm hands were at your face, shoulders, waist, hips, everywhere, caressing and squeezing until you were sure there would be marks left on your skin. Everything and everyone around you blurred into a mass of colours, only his face with those fiery eyes was clear. The fire was licking your skin, burning your body from inside out and you didn't mind it the slightest because you were the flame yourself.

You changed dancing partners several times, but you couldn't remember their faces even if you tried. At some point you danced even with Killian who with wide grin nuzzled to your neck in a very inappropriate way, but you both only laughed at it.

You danced and danced until you couldn't anymore and stumbling you went looking for something to quench thirst. Some female pressed a goblet with an amber liquid in it into your hand and you drank a few gulps without questioning it.

Tired and overheated you headed into an empty garden, letting the cool breeze to caress your hot cheeks. You groaned in relief.

"Here you are. I've been looking for you," strong arms wrapped around your waist from behind, pulling you to a broad chest. Heat radiated from his body as Eris nuzzled to your neck, placing hot kisses under your ear. "Tired?"

You hummed in answer, leaning into his touch. You both were still too high to care about the level of your intimacy.

"The evening isn't over yet," he whispered with his lips sliding down the column of your neck, his fingers lurking just inches from your breasts. He sounded out of breath. "I promised you to properly celebrate your birthday. Come."

He took your hand and led you away from the bonfires and music, to a secluded balcony overlooking the east gardens. Except of the small table there was nothing.

Your head was pounding, your sight blurred out and again refocused. You blamed all the dancing for it and took another gulp from the goblet. You still couldn't catch your breath.

Eris waved hand and on the small table appeared a beautiful cake and a small box tied with pink bow. With a snap of fingers he lit the candles and not only on the cake. There were dozens of them on the floor and the railings.

"Happy birthday, Y/N" he smiled softly. "Wish for something."

You wanted to return the smile, but couldn't. Your airways suddenly closed and you began to choke and cough violently, fighting for air.

"Y/N? What's wrong?" Eris immediately sobered and reached for you alarmed, his brows knitted together.

With another coughing fit, your mouth filled with something warm and sticky. The blood. Eris's eyes widened and he draw you to his chest. He snatched the goblet from your clenched fingers and sniffed it.

"No," he snarled and the goblet turned into an ash on his palm. He scooped you up in his arms, running through hallways with you. "Y/N, stay with me. Do you hear me? Look at me!"

You tried to focus on his face, really tried but he was nothing but blur. You desperately gasped for air, your consciousness gradually slipping away.

"What's going on?" You could hear Killian's voice in the distance.

"Bring healer! Immediately!" Eris barked the orders. "Bring her to her room! No one must know about this!"

Eris kicked some doors open and then again and laid you down on soft bed. His warm hand pressed to your cold cheek.

"Y/N, stay with me. Fight it! Please.."

You heard some commotion and voices, but after a while everything went silent except of buzzing in your ears. Gasping for air, you focused on his amber eyes. You wanted to take the memory with you wherever you would go from here as the darkness slowly swallowed you.

[blisss777]

PART 1

Anakin skywalker x best friend reader

Warnings:mentions of rape, pregnancy, violence, torture, sexual power play, reader kinda takes padme's place in this, but don't worry padme ends up with sabé. If I missed more let me know.

Part 2:here

As Anakin and padme lands the ship on tatooine, the search for his mother begins. Seeing his once slave owner watto, who gives directions to a house out a ways in the plain dessert. Where he surprisingly finds out he now has a step brother.

He is happily surprised to find his mother safe, but bed bound, the torture and abuse the Tusken Raiders bestowed upon her left her weak. But safe nonetheless and healing. "Oh ani, my son. You're so handsome." Shmi places kisses all over anakin's face as he smiles through tears at finally seeing his mother again, and free.

His mother suddenly stops and stares at anakin with a serious and worried look on her face. "Ani, y/n is still missing. The rescuers and your stepfather haven't been able to save her, I tried to get them to go back for her but they told me that it is too dangerous." She shakily whispers, her eyes watering at the thought of what she's going through as they speak.

"What?" Anakin gasps in shock, unaware that his childhood friend has been taken as well. A memory floods his head, of the time they said goodbye.

"You promise we'll see each other again, right ani. And you'll free us." Y/n sniffles as tears flow down her little chubby cheeks. Hugging anakin with a strength so surprising for a little eight year old. "I promise, I'll never forget you y/n. Never" little anakin promises in a confident voice, meaning his words with a striking intensity.

So anakin decides then and there that he is going to find her and free her, no matter what. He then sets out to find her, sneaking into the Tusken Raiders camp and using the force to find where she is being kept. Slicing open the back of the tent and walking in.

The sight before him causes a sharp pain of blame and sadness in his heart, he quickly yet gently unties her and softly places her down in his lap. Pushing the stray hairs out of her face, gazing down at her and fighting off the tears. "Ani?" She whispers out in pain and slight confusion.

Her face and body swollen and bruised, tears rolling down her cheeks just like before when anakin left tatooine. She looks just the same as before, just older and she's lost all her baby fat. But she's still his y/n. "It's me, I'm here. You're safe now." He rasps out in the same tone he did as a kid, promising he'd come back and free her.

"I missed you so much." Y/n smiles through the pain, grabbing his hand and squeezing as best as she could. He places a hand on her cheek in response, caressing her gently with his thumb. "I'm here now, I'm taking you home." She smiles as she gazes up at him.

"Ani." She repeats before her eyes fluttered closed, her head lolling back as her grip on his hand loosens. "No, no y/n. Stay with me. Please." Anakin voice wavers as he tries to shake her awake. But nothing, no response.

Anguish and seething anger fills his veins, as he lifts his head to stare daggers. He softly lays her flat on the ground as he leaves the tent, igniting his saber and cutting down two guard Tusken Raiders. The other's stopping in shock before approaching him angry that he's killed one of their people. Anakin gets in fighting stance and readys his saber. The blue glow casting a beautiful light on his face.

After successfully killing all the Tusken Raiders in a blinding hate, he enters the tent where y/n still remains. Leaning down to pick her up but stopping short, how could he have not felt this before. She's alive but barely, something is keeping her alive. A familiar thing he sensed, Midi-chlorians. It surrounds her in waves.

He narrowed his Eyes and let's the force guide him, his Eyes widened in shock. Thinking that this couldn't be true, it just couldn't. He picks her up and jumps on his speeder bike with her in his arms. Speeding back to his stepfather's house.

They all rush out seeing the girl limp in his arms. "She's hurt, badly but she's still alive." They all stare in shock, wondering how this girl survived. Covered in horrible bruises. Rushing her inside They get a medical droid to help her, the droid works in silence as it tends to her wounds before wrapping them.

"Her and the child will survive, it is healthy." The droid hums out before leaving anakin, padme and his stepfather in the room with her. "She's pregnant." Cliegg asks in shock as he looks to anakin with widened eyes.

"I sensed it, I wasn't entirely sure." Anakin says as he sits in a chair besides her as she lays still on the bed. Not once looking away from her, her breathing slow yet rhythmic. "Who is the father?" Padme ask as her eyebrows furrowed in confusion. "Maybe we could ask watto he has to know something, right." She places a hand on anakin's shoulder, hoping to comfort him.

"You're right." Is all he says as he stands and leaves the room, both him and padme finding there way back to watto. Finding him with a client, when watto spots them he waves his hand at the client shooing him away. "Well, well, what you miss me that much little ani. Or should I say big ehh." Watto cackles at his own bad joke, but anakin isn't laughing.

"What, it wasn't funny eh?, tough crowd." He shrugs as he flys over to anakin, padme by his side. "She's pregnant." He suddenly sneers out. Unable to hold back his anger anymore. "Who?" Watto confusedly scratches his head, making anakin even more angry. "Y/n, She's pregnant. And I wanna know who's the father." His voice is stern and serious.

"Oh my little servant is alive ehh, thought for sure those nasty Tuskens would've killed her by now. Well it seems I'm in luck, I won't have to buy another one." He rasps in his grating voice, laughing like this is extremely funny to him. Anakin's about to storm towards him, raising his arm to force choke him before padme holds him back. "Ani you mustn't, we have to find out who the father is."

He realises padme is right, if he kills him now he'll never get the answers to his questions. So he reluctantly lowers his arm, still glaring at watto. "Why is it so important ehh, what you wanna give the man a congratulatory handshake." Watto questions and raises a non-existence eyebrow.

"Tell me now!" Anakin sneers, so over his blabbering of nonsense. "Jeez alright ehh, no need to get mad." Watto sighs out. "This zebrak fellow comes through here from time to time, we met over gambling. He was looking for a little action ehh, I decided to offer my little servant to him for a hefty price. One I didn't think he would take." Watto explains animatedly waving his arms around.

"Turns out people are really desperate these days huh." He chuckles and wiggles his non-existence eyebrows, hoping anakin would join in on the joke. Which he doesn't of course. "You what?" Anakin is livid now, but luckily padme still has a grip on his bicep. "Ani he's not worth it, C'mon y/n needs you." Padme pleads with Anakin, dragging him back.

"You heard him padme, he doesn't deserve to live a happy life after what he's done to her. What he put her through!" He shouts back, disgust and guilt filling him. Cursing at himself in his head, thinking that if he came back for her earlier none of this wouldn't have happened.

"Ani look at me, we need to go back now. She's awake." Padme shows him the holo message from his stepbrother, letting him know that y/n is finally awake now. And hopefully ready to talk about this zebrak and tell him who he is.

Anakin nods and sends one last death glare at watto, before turning and leaving. Watto feels a shiver go down his spine, he was sure the boy was going to kill him or worse. Anakin and padme speeds back to the house, rushing into the room y/n is kept in. And seeing her sitting and talking to his mother, both of them holding hands in conversation before turning and seeing Anakin and padme in the doorway.

"Ani." She smiles as tears immediately fills her eyes, shmi watching their interaction with a look of contentment at them finally being reunited. "Y/n." Anakin rushed towards her, sitting on the bed on her left and gripping one of her hands in his. Looking at her in disbelief that she's alright.

"Can we be alone." Anakin looks at his mom then to padme, both of them nodding and leaving. He turns back and stares intensely into y/n's eyes. "Did they tell you?" He questioned curiously, gently squeezing her hand. "Yes, shmi has told me." She looks down in shame and embarrassment, the tears have already stained her cheeks.

"Hey, look at me." He gently grips her chin between his thumb and forefinger, raising her head to look him in the eyes. "You have nothing to be ashamed of." He rasps in a caring and soft tone, meaning every word.

She nodded her head at his words, tears rolled down her cheeks as she gazes at him with her doe eyes. "Whenever your ready, can you tell me who the father is?" She shallows and realised how dry her throat is, looking to the side and biting her lip. Letting out a breath, wanting to say nothing but knowing that she couldn't, she could never keep anything from her best friend.

She leans in and anakin does the same, when she's besides his ear she whisper something that both shocks and surprises anakin. "Are you sure." He asked in a serious tone, narrowing his Eyes. "Yes, I am ani. I'm sure." She confidently confirms, he senses fear in her.

"You're afraid, why?" She grabs anakin's hands in both of hers, trying to ground herself. "He threatened me not to tell anyone, and if I even thought about doing so or if I did, he would kill anyone I love and care for." Her hands are shaking now, and anakin feels it. He grips her hands and holds them to his chest.

"I won't let anything happen to you, I promise you this." He reaches a hand up and caresses her cheek, she throws her arms around his neck and sobs into it. Anakin pulls her tighter against him, wrapping his arms around her as her heart breaking sobs reach his ears.

And he knows that no matter what, he will protect her, he will kill for her. He will kill anyone her dares lay a hand on her. Anyone who dares make her cry, even just a little bit. "Never again, I'll never leave you alone again." He whispered in a adoring tone, yet something else is there, something sinister. Something dark.

Notes:wow that was a roller-coaster of emotions huh, also I'm thinking of making part two because it definitely doesn't end here. There is more to the story then I thought up, but I'll see if anyone likes this one first lol 😅

[helreginn]

withinkandquill:

Cardan parts from her as if her words singe his skin - before his fingers can tighten around her jaw, before hurt and anger turn him into someone violent and dangerous. Already he can familiar the familiar impulse winding down the muscles of his arms, itching for that comforting sensation of power and control. “None of that suggests a bloodbath!” Once gentle fingers form fists at his sides. A newly-poured goblet of wine sits nearby, prepared by a trembling servant who had hurried away again as quickly as she had come. Cardan’s temper was legendary; his cruelty the spectacle by which he was best known. But despite his reputation, he takes his anger out on neither goddess nor servant. Instead, he reaches for the nearest item - the goblet - and hurls it at the furthest wall. Dark wine drips down the it like spilled blood. Cardan barely remembers that night, hiding beneath the feasting table as he watched his family fall one-by-one. Dain. Elowyn. Rhyia. Caelia. His father. All gone in one night. He barely remembers the weight of the crown as young Oak - secretly of Greenbriar blood, it seemed - placed it atop his head. It was supposed to be a party and Cardan had spent it as he spends them all and as he has spent many more nights since - drunk beyond recollection. He needs no memories of the massacre to drive him to drink, though. Perhaps he should feel something for his murdered family but he does not. Cardan has little love for his family and so little is lost. What is lost, what he grieves the most, is freedom. That came from being an uncrowned, unwanted prince, sixth of a set of eligible and eager heirs, free to enjoy the lavish lifestyle of royalty without the responsibility of a kingdom. And now…now that this truth had reached his ear…Cardan has yet another reason to drink. Hel. His unwitting, unwanted bride. And rather unexpectedly, the only person he ever began to believe truly cared for him. Turning on heel, Cardan approaches again. Long strides make short work of the space between them. Hands find her shoulders, palms pushing her back until his body cages hers against the wall only a few steps behind. His touch is less gentle now. “You yourself told me you were not bound as we are to faerie bargains,” he hisses. The lines of his jaw harden, Adam’s apple bobbing as he swallows past the lump that has formed in his throat. “You could have told me and if your motives were as you say, you would have.” His eyes search her as he speaks - cold and daring with anger, glistening with something he doesn’t let show in other aspect of himself. “He was going to kill me too, Hel. Or did you not realize that all of us meant all of us? Did you think me so forgotten that he might even forget to spill my blood? Or was this your way out of this…let us all die and then you are free, aren’t you? Did Balekin promise you this? Have you worked alongside him this whole time?” @withinkandquill

Hel winces at the scream and then again at the glass thrown against the wall. His rage is palpable. And she can't blame him. Would never. Was it not he that weathered this very same rage and sorrow on their wedding night? The misplaced grief and hurt at having lost her family? No. She stands in silence. Hand braced against her ribs as if it could stop her heart breaking. Watchful. Apologetic.

Useless.

She feels the cold wall against her back but it is not half as cold as the anguish in his accusatory glare as he just barely holds himself back. Her teeth ever-so-slightly chatter together behind her closed lips. Hel has not once been afraid of Cardan. Not one time. Until this time. And that's worse. Hel is no stranger to fear. She is apathetic in the face of it. Fear is just alertedness, readying for the storm.

But Hel has never known love before. And she has never lost it either. Never watched it die in real time.

She wants to speak on her behalf. Needs to. But she is so guilt ridden, a larger part of her would prefer if he just..

But that too is not fair on him.

"I am not beholden to fairy deals." She replies, "But you surely can see..." That I am not free either? She wants to tell him. Tell him that it is the same magic writ on their marriage contract. But she can't. She wants to tell him even what to ask, to see that she cannot answer. But even that.. cannot be spoken.

She dare not look away. Not once drags her eyes from his. But she gestures widely to the side below his elbow, "I wasn't even there! I am not still. You had to seek me out here, where I have been and will remain until..." Until you are gone. And then we both must go to the dark place.

The breath leaves her lungs and with it, all the fight she had. Her shoulders slump in his arms.

All she has wanted to say in all these months.. To talk of her family. Her brothers and mothers and father. Even the shape of their names could not parse her tongue. They were her whole world before she came and he had never once heard her utter the sounds.

He would feel the rigor of her shoulders as she just barely contains her own sobs.

She loves them. She misses them. She wants to talk about them every single day. To tell Cardan how the happy whip of his tail they both pretend not to see when he is bare - or at least shirtless - beside her reminds her of home. Tell him how her mothers are ferocious and wild and if they could leave - if they could go to her home, he would know the love of maternal instinct. She was sure of it.

"Think of me as you will, Cardan. Call me a betrayer if it helps. Abandon me for her if that will ease your heart. Do what you must. I will forgive it all. I want your happiness, even if I am not included in that." She sniffs and all that she longs to say is right there, staring back in his night dark eyes, "But do not for one second fool yourself into believing I wanted you to be hurt. I.. I.."

I love you. That one she can say. Could say. But cowardice is perhaps more compelling than even the magic of a godspell.

[xxbyimm]

Anima Nera - Severus Snape x OC - Chapter 3 - The Preamble

New to Sev's journey? Chapter 1.

Anima Nera - Severus Snape x OC - Chapter 3 - The Preamble

Summary: Suzy's first day as a Professor is coming up, and she's nervous about her new role. And wait... is that Amos Warrington?

Warnings: Some cursing, I guess.

Author’s note: I've been studying Sev's character extensively; I hope I'll do him justice. Enjoy 🥰🥰.

‘The scariest moment is always just before you start.’

-Tanmay Vora

September, 1990

As it turned out, consulting the former History of Magic teacher had been a waste of time. While Suzy had patiently waited for Professor Binns’ return, Hel's endurance—or patience—had evaporated in a minute or two: the little dragon had felt more than ready to explore her new surroundings, which her stupid human strictly forbade her to do. ‘Good manners go a long way, Helena,’ Suzy had told her draconic friend. ‘Professor Binns will return in no time, you’ll see.’

Another ten minutes passed by, in which Professor Binns still did not show and Hel became unmanagable. They had inspected the classroom thrice, circling the filing cabinet that stood in a small alclove in the back of the classroom and wondering what kind of secrets it was hiding. ‘Fine,’ Suzy finally murmured, setting Hel free. ‘We’re taking matters in our own hands.’

Their inquisitiveness turned out to be successful, for they retrieved a stack of papers that looked promising. Suzy—feeling a bit guilty—tried to ask her predecessor’s permission to take the loot they had found, knocking thrice on the door of his private quarters, but to no avail. Defeated, Suzy bade the empty classroom farewell and left for her own quarters. It seemed she was going to have to rely on herself for this.

And that was what she did. In the next two weeks, Suzy had dedicated herself to the task completely: she spent most of her days planning and preparing in her classroom, often forgetting to eat; it was a good thing that Hogwarts came with dozens of attentive house-elves and a few kind colleagues who had checked in on her. The lesson plans for the fifth and seventh year students had been fairly easy to complete, for the O.W.L. and N.E.W.T. program papers she had snatched from the filing cabinet—it was scandalous enough she had to resort to snooping through a colleague’s possessions, but what was a girl to do?—had granted Suzy a good sense of what was expected of her students. The other classes, however, had been more of a challenge; Suzy had no idea how to motivate a bunch of unruly teenagers. She had asked her new colleagues about their strategies, finding the answers to be as diverse as their personalities. Some of them, like Professor Kettleburn and Professor Sprout— ‘call me Pomona, dear’ —were so passionate about the subject they taught that it was bound to rub off on most of their students; a natural consequence of having a gifted mentor. Others, like Madame Hooch and Professor McGonagall, weren’t as exuberant—their love for their work was to be found in the serious, strict manner they taught their subject. Lastly, the likes of Professor Binns and Professor Trelawney were simply too engrossed in their own worlds to worry about the classes that needed to be taught—somehow an approach as theirs was sufficient enough, albeit it wasn’t as productive as others. Though there was no right way to teach, Suzy kind of wished there was. She had no idea where to start, or how to develop her own style—a creed uttered by most of her colleagues.

Suzy heaved a weary sigh and turned to her other side—her usually comfortable beddings suffocating her. The world outside her quarters was dark and quiet, the rest of the staff vast asleep in their beds; yet Suzy’s thoughts wouldn’t stop racing. The first term was to start today, which meant hundreds of students were going to arrive at Hogwarts. What if she sucked at teaching, if she failed to connect to her students? What if Hel—or Suzy herself—brought anyone in danger? And Amos, it had been ages since she had seen him… What if he hated her guts? And what if he didn’t? And Severus… What if she and her big mouth had crossed a line, what if he truly despised her? Or worse, what if he remembered the night they had shared together—no, she shouldn’t think about him . She had better things to do, she still had to check the sixth year’s exam questions she had planned for the last term—

Ugh! Suzy groaned before settling her attention on Hel—the little dragon vast asleep. Hel purred—probably dreaming of catching herself a juicy bug of some sort—and despite everything, Suzy smiled. At least someone was getting their well deserved rest.

A small shiver went through her foot and up her leg. Suzy sat up and patiently rubbed the sting that followed away. After the worst had passed, she threw the covers aside and rose from the bed. Once again, sleep was overrated; her body was reacting to the mental strain she had put herself under. It probably was for the best to wake Hel for a stroll through the castle before anything happened. Suzy waddled through the darkened room—picking up her black silk dressing gown with burgundy dragons sewn upon it from a chair—and roamed through her drawer in search of a fresh pair of socks.

After she had assembled herself together—wearing a silk tank top and shorts in a blush color as pajamas, her favorite black dressing gown and her dark gray loafers—Suzy recovered her wand from its usual hiding place and cast a Lumos charm against the ceiling. Hel hissed at the sudden burst of light in her face, covering her snout with her blanket.

‘Goodmorning my lady,’ Suzy greeted her small companion. ‘I know it’s early, but I can’t sleep, so I’m going to take a walk through the castle.’ Hel growled, disappearing under her blanket; she even withdrew her tail, which meant she was very dissatisfied with her current circumstances. ‘You can stay in if you like,’ Suzy offered, though they both knew Hel had severe abandonment issues—whenever Suzy tried to leave her alone for a few minutes, the little dragon would start screeching on the top of her lungs—only stopping when her human returned; the true delight during bathroom breaks. ‘But we both know what happens if you do,’ Suzy added. ‘I’m sure we’ll find you a midnight snack, okay?’

Despite the fact that Suzy had heard Severus Snape leave and enter his quarters multiple times a day, they hadn’t seen more than glimpses of each other since their last discussion—and the stalemate that had followed. Severus probably desired some form of an apology and that was precisely what Suzy refused to give him; he was going to have to offer her an apology of his own if he ever wished to hear her do the same.

But tonight, the door of his domain was firmly shut; the quarters behind it quiet, allowing Suzy to pass them with a certain sense of relief. Surely Professor Dark and Broody was resting in his bed at this ungodly hour, like a—relatively—normal human being.

‘Do you think he sleeps upside down?’ Suzy asked Hel as they climbed the stairs together. ‘Since he’s an awful bat and all.’ Hel didn’t deign her with a reply, probably fed up with her human reverting to the uninteresting topic of Severus Snape all the time. There was no need to discuss his characteristics any further than they already had, but Suzy somehow never got bored thinking or talking about her nemesis.

Aside from the occasional squeak from Hel when she discovered a potential snack, the pair wandered through the castle in silence and made it to the clocktower courtyard. Suzy sat down at the antique well and admired the eagle statues in the graceful light of the moon. The temperature was pleasant out here, the light breeze of wind playing with her curls and contrasting wonderfully with the cool stone she was sitting on. Comfortably hiding behind her human's curls, Hel purred, equally satisfied with their final destination. ‘Do you fancy a mosquito?’ Suzy whispered as she spotted an army of the nasty insects swarming on the other side of the courtyard. ‘There’s plenty of them.’

Hel squeaked, all drowsiness gone at the mention of another snack, and took off faster than Suzy could say ‘You’re welcome’ . Suzy heaved a sigh and settled in her seat. Hel thoroughly enjoyed terrorizing bugs, so it was likely this was going to take awhile. If anything, Suzy was grateful for the distraction: watching her draconic companion nosediving through the swarm of bugs like a mad dragon was always a treat.

‘Ah, Professor Brown. Still up?’ Suzy’s stomach flipped at the low, seemingly bored tone and she turned in her seat. ‘Merlin’s beard!’ she exclaimed, covering her chest with her hand. ‘Must you keep creeping up on me?!’ Severus Snape towered over her, clad in his usual attire and watching her with a cold gleam in his dark eyes. ‘Charming as always, I see.’ ‘You were the one who gave me a fright,’ Suzy countered, crossing her arms in front of her chest—suddenly aware of her own flimsy nightwear. ‘How do you do that?’ Snape seemed unfazed by her demeanor. ‘Not everyone’s nature is as loud as yours, Professor Brown,’ he remarked. Suzy narrowed her eyes. ‘While I agree that gracious might not be my middle name, that was not the question. How do you do it?’ ‘Let's just focus on the fact that we finally seem to agree on something, shall we?’ he proposed, watching Hel decimate the mosquito population of the clocktower courtyard. ‘Because I fear explaining the concept of subtlety to the likes of you is a fruitless endeavor.’ ‘The likes of me…’ Suzy repeated, tasting the weight of the words on her tongue. ‘Does that mean you’ve conducted an analysis of your own? Humor me; what’s the verdict on my character?’ ‘Not so hasty, Professor Brown,’ Snape argued. ‘An analysis was wholly unnecessary; you’re not that complex or mysterious.’ Suzy couldn’t help herself and laughed at the statement, the sound of her amusement echoing through the empty courtyard. ‘I’ve never had any complaints about lacking any of these characteristics,’ she mused. ‘Or really sought to achieve them anyway. Tell me, Professor Snape—what’s your definition of complex, or mysterious?’ ‘You ought to know that,’ he stated, his lips curling into a cold, demeaning smile. ‘Don’t they teach you that in first grade?!’ ‘I know what—’

Hel flew over their heads, uttering a loud growl and soaring towards the other side of the courtyard—another civilisation of mosquitos in sight. The Professors—overcome by Helena's theatrics or just grateful for the distraction—watched Suzy’s small companion in silence.

‘Are you prepared for the first semester?’ Severus finally inquired, his tone formal. ‘I think so,’ Suzy replied. ‘Though I had to start fresh. I asked Professor Binns to share his lesson plans with me, but to no avail.’ ‘That’s probably for the best,’ Snape noted. ‘Though you might want to return the files you borrowed; I heard Professor Binns is still in search of them.’ Suzy bit on her lip, trying her best to hide a sly grin. ‘Files? I have no idea what you’re talking about.’ ‘Naturally,’ he agreed in a sarcastic tone. ‘I wouldn’t dare to accuse you of such crimes.’ ‘What have you been up to?’ Suzy asked as she inspected her fingernails, eager to change the subject. ‘Aside from concocting broody plans to take over the world with your army of bats, of course.’ A wry chuckle escaped him. ‘Has anyone told you you are absurd, Susannah?’

Upon hearing her given name rolling over his tongue—in that leisure, seemingly bored tone—Suzy looked up at his handsome features: dark eyes that she could easily drown in, the characteristic nose and the firm line of his mouth. Had she missed their mutual agreement to move to a first name basis or did Hogwarts have a secret social code she hadn’t been aware of?! Another possibility was that Severus simply had slipped up, but considering his composed demeanor that didn’t make sense. Whatever the reason, she had to admit they had insulted each other enough to use their respective first names as they resumed their verbal fencing match.

‘Absurd?’ Suzy repeated, rising to her feet and tilting her chin, looking her colleague in the eye with a sweet smile. ‘Not directly in my face, Severus,’ she quipped. ‘Why?’ ‘Let me be the first, then.’ He said decisively. ‘While your imagination is admirable, the things that come out of your mouth are preposterous at best.’ ‘Truly?’ she mused, rubbing her thumb and index finger over her chin. ‘Was that a compliment from our very own Potion’s Master?’ Severus remained perfectly calm, watching her in that stoical manner of his. ‘I fear you will take it as such,’ he said. ‘Whether I wish you to do so or not.’ Her smile widened into a grin. ‘Certainly. You see, I’ve stopped trying to please people that don’t like me. These days, I simply embrace the joy of being the most annoying person they’ve ever met.’ ‘Ah, so you share this brilliant philosophy with Peeves,’ Snape concluded. ‘He’ll be relieved to hear it.’ Suzy laughed at the notion. ‘Is that sorry excuse of a ghoul still around?’ ‘He’s a ghost cursed to roam these halls forever, Professor Brown,’ Severus said, sounding slightly vexed now. ‘Of course he’s still here.’ ‘I’ll send him to trash your office sometime, then,’ Suzy promised before whistling at Hel. ‘Helena!’ She called for her pet in a firm tone. ‘Come on! Professor Snape still has to attend to his bat friends. How is he going to take over the world when his nocturnal friends are too hungry to do his bidding?’

Hel—who had been just chasing a huge moth—glanced longingly at the insect before turning away. Suzy held out her arm for her draconic friend, but Hel gracefully landed on Severus’ shoulder instead. Suzy eyed both of them—Hel proud of her antics, Severus seemingly indifferent, but probably making up his mind about this recent development. ‘She seems to like you,’ Suzy concluded, raising a brow. ‘Though I have yet to understand why.’ ‘Hello Helena,’ Severus greeted the dragon, ignoring Suzy’s jest. ‘Please tell me you’re more pleasant company than the human you’ve brought with you.’ Hel chirped at that—a sound she only made when she was utterly content with herself. She watched Severus with interest as she balanced herself upon his shoulder, her golden eyes gleaming. ‘Helena of Troy!’ Suzy insisted, planting her hands in her sides.

Usually this did the trick, but today Hel had no intention of leaving her new acquaintance. Snape eyed the pair, his lips pursing slightly. Then, he flicked his wand with a dramatic wave, creating a small orb of light, and strode away, leaving Suzy to stand alone in the courtyard.

‘Hey!’ She called as she hurried after him, clutching the front of her dressing gown firmly in her fist, her loafers stomping on the slab stones. ‘Where do you think you’re going?!’ ‘Escorting you two back to your quarters,’ Severus told her. ‘Since I don’t have a choice.’ Hel purred at that, wholeheartedly agreeing with at least half of it. ‘You are insufferable, do you know that?’ Suzy grumbled. ‘Can you possibly slow down—’ ‘Well, I find you too much to bear, so that’s yet another thing we agree on,’ he cut her off. ‘So much common ground tonight here, this must be my lucky day.’ ‘Already?’ She scoffed. ‘And the students have yet to arrive.’ ‘Ah, yes, the first day of term,’ he established as he slowed his pace. ‘Any conclusive theories on how you’ll tame a dozen unruly kids?’ ‘Not yet,’ she replied. ‘But I’ll come up with something. How do you do it, Professor?’ Severus eyed her with an unreadable expression, the distant light of his wand transforming the color of his eyes into an impossible shade of black. ‘I make sure I haunt them in their dreams,’ he then said dryly. ‘Or I send my army of bats instead.’ Suzy rolled her eyes. ‘Now who’s absurd?!’ ‘You were first to imply these absurdities, Professor.’ She shrugged. ‘True, but—’ ‘Don’t throw insults when you can’t handle getting them handed back to you.’

They were interrupted by a trashing sound that came from the higher levels in the Ravenclaw tower, followed by maniacal laughter. Hel perked up her ears and tail, growling softly. ‘Peeves,’ Severus established, his voice coated with contempt. ‘I don’t wish to know what he’s up to now.’ ‘Me neither,’ Suzy said as she quickened her step. ‘Last time I saw that devil, he laughed because I had and I quote: “a funny face” .’ ‘Peeves isn’t known for his creativity or his intelligence,’ Severus replied. ‘Just call him boring, it drives him mad. He’ll be a pain for a few days, but if you stick to it long enough, he’ll be out of your way.’

They exited the Ravenclaw tower and passed the stone bridge that led to the dungeon’s staircase. Though they spoke no more, the silence that hung between them wasn’t uncomfortable; it felt more of a temporary agreement to cease their verbal fire. For now.

‘I bid you goodnight, Professor Brown,’ Severus said once they arrived at the door to both their private quarters. ‘Helena, if you please.’ Helena sniffed at his jaw—a telltale sign of her growing affection, though Suzy wasn’t going to inform Severus about that—and squeaked, before she obliged and took her place at her human’s shoulder. Severus nodded curtly and turned away to the stairs once more.

Wait, no—it was four in the morning. Everyone was in bed. What was Severus Snape possibly going to do at this hour? Didn’t he need his rest?!

‘Don’t you need to sleep?’ Suzy blurted out as she watched him ascend the stairs. ‘No,’ Severus replied without looking back. ‘Like you gracefully explained to your dragon, Professor Brown—I still have to attend to my bat friends. Taking over the world requires consistent labor.’

The Great Hall was as magical and spacious as Suzy remembered; though five long, wooden tables dominated most of the space—one for each house and one for the staff—the grandeur of the Great Hall’s high ceilings and large stained glass windows still went unrivaled. Surprisingly enough, Hogwarts staff barely used the Great Hall during summer’s breaks; Professor McGonnagall had explained to Suzy that without its’ students, the Great Hall simply felt too grand for the few staff members who stayed over during the summer.

Today was different—the students were to arrive in a few hours and it was the headmaster’s explicit wish to assemble the staff for lunch and enjoy their last moments of peace and quiet together. Before everything went to hel(l), apparently.

Suzy made her way to the staff’s platform on the far end of the Great Hall, where most of her colleagues had already gathered—some already in their seats, others still standing and talking. It was strange how one offer could change her life so drastically; never in a million years had she foreseen having a place here amongst the staff of Hogwarts, but here she was…

‘Suzy!’ Rubeus called for her, his dark eyes gleaming with joy. ‘There you are!’ Hel—who had been sitting on Suzy’s head, despite clear instructions not to do so—screeched on the top of her lungs and flew towards Suzy’s friend, landing snout first against his chest. Hagrid chuckled and awarded the little dragon by tickling her neck. ‘Hey, Rubeus!’ Suzy greeted him after mouthing a heart-felt ‘sorry ’ to a few colleagues that had been startled by her draconic pet. ‘I’m sorry about this insufferable demon, she still has a lot to learn.’ ‘Don’t listen to her,’ Hagrid told Hel in a soft, soothing tone that didn’t match with his burly appearance. ‘You are a very well-behaved young lady and I’m very proud that you recognized your uncle amongst all these people.’ Suzy didn’t have the heart to tell him that finding a half-giant amongst two dozen of human staff members wasn’t much of a feat, because both Hagrid and Hel seemed very proud of the achievement.

‘Uncle?’ Suzy inquired instead. ‘I didn’t know Hel had one.’ ‘Well, she does,’ her friend said, eyeing her with a stern glare. ‘We’re practically family, Suzy.’ Hel purred loudly against Hagrid’s chest, probably unaware of the specific topic, but agreeing with him wholeheartedly. Suzy laughed and shook her head. ‘Why do I have the feeling that you two are going to conspire against me sometime?’

‘Susannah Brown!’ A light-hearted voice behind them cheered, making her raise her eyes to the heavens. ‘It can’t be! Is that truly your magnificent ass I spy?!’ Suzy shared a glance with Hagrid before whirling around to face her first boyfriend. It was true that her black chinos, which she had paired today with a teal blouse, fitted her well—giving her that instant confidence boost—but well-mannered people wouldn’t actually mention it. Except, it seemed….

‘Hello, Amos,’ Suzy greeted the tall, dark blond haired wizard that strode her way. To most, Amos was the epitome of attractive; baby blue eyes, a strong Roman nose, full lips and an athletic build. He knew that he was conventionally handsome and carried himself as such; a characteristic that was both admirable and aggravating. During their time at Hogwarts, Amos had always been a brilliant student; though his opportunistic tendencies tended to get him in trouble more than he’d like to admit.

‘It’s been so long, Suze!’ Amos said as he pulled her into a hug. ‘When was the last time we spoke? One year ago? Or was it two?’ ‘I think it was just one,’ Suzy told him with a smile as she patted his back. ‘But before we continue,’ she went on in a hushed tone. ‘May I ask you to leave my nether regions out of further conversations? We’re at work.’ Amos chuckled and let her go, his blue eyes twinkling with mischief. ‘Of course, Professor Brown. I wouldn’t dare to cross you on my very first day here, but you look good. Ah, Professor Flitwick,’ he greeted the Charm’s Professor that appeared at Suzy’s side. ‘It’s good to see you again!’ ‘As it is to see you, Amos,’ Professor Flitwick replied. ‘If you have time, you have to tell me how you used the Rictusempra Charm on those hippogriff poachers. Madam Rosmerta told me the amusing tale, but I would like to hear it from its original source.’ Amos chuckled and Suzy—having heard the story multiple times—kindly bowed out of the conversation, making her way towards the table and settling herself in the vacant seat on Hagrid and Hel’s left. ‘So the ex-boyfriend is back, huh?’ Hagrid asked with a wide grin. ‘He’s a handsome lad, but I don’t have to tell you that.’ ‘Oh, please,’ Suzy huffed. ‘Amos is hardly dating material; women are as disposable as handkerchiefs in his world. I’ve been there.’ Hagrid, still not believing her, winked. ‘Maybe all it takes is the right woman, Suzy….’

Her eyes traveled over the staff’s table and landed on Severus Snape. The Potion’s Master sat on the headmaster’s left side and looked more bored and out of place than anything, probably because the mere idea of casually socializing with other human beings repulsed him—surely he’d rather spend time with his bat companions. Despite his distaste of social contact, Severus was conversing with a handsome woman Suzy recognized as Septima Vector, Hogwarts Arithmancy teacher.

‘I’m not the right woman for Amos, believe me,’ Suzy murmured at Hagrid, ignoring the way her stomach twisted in itself. ‘We do well as friends. I’m his trusty advisor whenever the women in his life give him a hard time and that’s how it’ll stay.’ ‘Sure, Suzy,’ Hagrid replied with a low chuckle—certainly not believing her. ‘...what are you looking at?!’ ‘Excuse me, is this seat taken?’ A male voice inquired politely, to which both Hagrid, Suzy and Hel looked up. They were greeted by a slender man with dark brown hair and dark eyes that bore a hesitant glow in them, his hand resting on the back of the chair on Suzy’s left. ‘Definitely not!’ Suzy replied and gestured at the said seat. ‘Please, sit down. I don’t think we’ve met before, have we? I’m Susannah Brown, the new History of Magic teacher—Professor Binns has finally retired and Professor Dumbledore asked me to take over his post.’ ‘Ah! I fear I have just arrived,’ the man explained as he shook both Suzy’s and Hagrid’s hand before taking his seat. ‘I am Arif Sikander, the new Muggle Studies teacher. Professor Dumbledore recruited me last week after he heard that Professor Quirrell wished to extend his sabbatical until next summer.’ ‘Muggle objects can come in handy,’ Hagrid said. ‘I must say I’m a bit of a—’ he stopped himself, for Professor Sikander was staring at Hel. ‘Oh, this is Hel,’ he continued. ‘Suzy’s dragon.’ ‘A dragon?!’ Professor Sikander exclaimed. ‘Now, those you don’t see every day!’ ‘Helena’s a teacup dragon,’ Suzy elaborated as she scratched Hel’s chin. ‘They are extremely rare and are even considered unnatural by most breeders.’ ‘They are unnatural,’ Amos told Suzy as he lowered himself in the vacated chair on Professor Sikander’s left side. ‘Did you know that a teacup dragon is a—’ ‘Hey!’ Suzy reprimanded Amos while quickly covering Hel’s ears. ‘Will you shut it? I don’t go around and tell everyone that you’re a pain in the ass all the time, do I? Hel is a blessing and that’s all I want to hear from you.’ Professor Sikander eyed them both, shuffling uncomfortably in his seat. Amos laughed at that and patted the poor man on his shoulder. ‘It’s all in good’s sport,’ he said. ‘I’m Amos Warrington, by the way. New Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher. Suzy and I go way back. We went to school here. And who would have believed that the both of us would end up here in this place again?’ Suzy shook her head. ‘Not me.’ ‘I heard rumors that she’d be here,’ Amos went on as he shook Professor Sikander’s hand. ‘But I wouldn’t have guessed Susannah would trade her dream job as a dragon trainer for this post.’

Suzy could barely refrain from rolling her eyes; it was kind of Amos to praise her, but must he reveal her whole past in front of a stranger?! He was an auror for Merlin’s sake—didn’t he know better?! Her eyes traveled over the staff’s table once more, accidentally catching Snape’s gaze. The dark pools burned straight into her soul, setting her darkest secrets on fire. ‘Lily, Lily, Lily….’ her mind sang and Suzy quickly looked the other way.

‘Well,’ Professor Sikander offered politely, drawing in Suzy’s attention. ‘The same can be said for you, Amos. What are you doing here? I heard you are an auror, and a successful one at that.’ ‘I couldn’t possibly deny Professor Dumbledore, could I?’ Amos exclaimed with a laugh. ‘I mean, the fact that our headmaster even considered me for the post is humbling enough as it is. Even though, as he kindly explained, it will only be for a year.’ ‘Exactly,’ Suzy rejoined the conversation with a grin, pointing her index finger at Amos. ‘You can’t refuse Dumbledore,’ she turned to Hagrid. ‘Right, Rubeus?’ ‘Aye,’ Hagrid agreed.

Professor Dumbledore rose to his feet and patiently waited for his staff members to round up their conversations. As the room slowly fell silent, the headmaster’s eyes wandered over everyone’s faces, nodding solemnly at each staff member.

‘Welcome back,’ he announced. ‘I’m glad to see so many familiar faces back at Hogwarts.’ He turned to Arif and Amos, a fond smile adorning his face. ‘A special welcome to Arif Sikander, who has graciously accepted my offer to teach Muggle Studies this year. As most of you know, Professor Quirrell has decided to extend his sabbatical for a year. We’re grateful that you’re here to enlighten us on this interesting topic, Professor Sikander.’ ‘Thank you, headmaster,’ Professor Sikander replied as he was met with applause from the other staff. ‘I’m glad I can be of help this year.’ "We're happy you’ve returned here,’ Dumbledore said warmly, before reverting his gaze to Amos. ‘And another welcome to our own Amos Warrington, who joined us just now to fill the post of Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher this upcoming year. We’re happy to have you here as well, Professor Warrington.’ ‘Thank you, Professor Dumbledore,’ Amos spoke, practically beaming. ‘And hello everyone, I’m sure most of you know me already, but for the ones that don’t—I’m Amos, auror and adventurer in my spare time. I’m delighted that Professor Dumbledore has offered me the post, and I’m sure it will be an eventful year for us all.’ ‘Just leave Peeves alone this time around,’ Dumbledore replied, eyeing Amos with an amused glance. ‘Hogwarts is a school, not a fencing court.’

Suzy and a few others chuckled at the notion. She had almost forgotten about it, but it seemed that Peeves wouldn’t cause her much grief, for Amos had a long standing feud with the poltergeist. No one knew exactly how it had started, but the two hated each other’s guts and often tried to outsmart one another—much to the amusement of the rest of the castle.

‘Now that is out of the way,’ Dumbledore went on. ‘As tradition prescribes, we’ll enjoy a hearty lunch before our students arrive to liven up the castle. But first, Minerva was so kind as to remind me of the following—since we house more students this year than we did in the years before, we have to ask you to help us patrol the halls at night during the first weeks; just to make sure no student’s get lost in the castle during bedtime hours. Because we all value our peace and quiet, Minerva has set up a schedule, which you can find in your classroom after lunch.’

Dumbledore allowed all of them to digest this information for a moment and then clapped in his hands—the whole table suddenly filled with food. ‘Without further ado, let the feast begin….’

The Great Hall quickly filled with the familiar sounds of conversation and people enjoying their meal. ‘This never gets old,’ Amos remarked, helping himself to a bowl of potato salad. ‘Another reason to return to Hogwarts. Those house-elves know how to cook!’ ‘They sure do,’ Hagrid said as he carefully put Hel upon his lap. ‘Welcome back, Amos. It’s good to see you.’ ‘And you!’ Amos replied before stuffing his face with potato salad and looking at Hel. ‘She’s a gorgeous creature, Suzy,’ he murmured. ‘You will have to make sure Hagrid won’t try to steal her from under your nose.’ ‘I must say I have thought about it,’ Hagrid confessed with a sigh. ‘How can I not? She’s such a wee little thing, she won’t hurt a fly.’

Actually, ironically enough (dragon)flies were Hel’s favorite snack, but in this case Suzy decided that she shouldn’t make Amos—or Professor Sikander—the wiser. She watched her draconic friend as Hagrid loaded his plate with all kinds of meats and vegetables—her friend muttering something about leafy stuff and ‘good for me health’ —while Hel took a good sniff of the delicious food. ‘Hel,’ Suzy warned. ‘We don’t steal food off plates. It’s not sanitary. I’ll get you something.’ Hel mewled, her golden eyes flashing. ‘Patience is a virtue,’ Suzy said as she emptied a small bowl of Cornish pasties onto a half empty plate of lamb chops—courtesy of Amos and Hagrid—and scanned the table for food that Hel could eat—preferably not something too spicy, for no one liked a dragon with stomach aches. ‘Do they have….’

As if she had spoken out her request aloud, a small plate filled with raw meat appeared next to her own. ‘Thank you,’ Suzy said to no one in particular, yet she knew that the house-elves had received her gratitude. She discarded the empty plate and offered Hel her very own. ‘Here, you little monster.’

‘Is Helena registered with the ministry, Suze?’ Amos inquired as the four of them—Hagrid, Suzy, Professor Sikander and Amos himself—watched Hel devour her lunch. ‘Since she’s an exotic beast and all.’ Suzy shook her head. She had briefly considered the necessity—she wasn’t stupid by all means—but her move to Hogwarts had been so sudden that she had pushed the tedious task from her mind. ‘No, we just arrived in the country a few weeks ago,’ she replied, for in cases like this, playing the ignorant act was best. ‘Should she be?’ ‘Yeah, sooner than later,’ Amos told her with a grin. ‘You need a permit to own a beast like her. If word gets out that Hogwarts houses a dragon under its roof without informing the ministry first, it will cause a lot of grief with the prime minister.’ ‘I suppose you’re right,’ Suzy mused. ‘It’s… The move to Hogwarts has been so sudden that I… I forgot.’ ‘It happens to the best of us,’ Professor Sikander offered kindly. ‘I’m sure they’ll understand when you explain it to them.’ ‘Hel is a no brainer,’ Hagrid said fiercely. ‘Just look at her, she’s just a wee—’ ‘All will be alright,’ Amos said with a wink. ‘I have connections in the department of Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures. I will help you get that permit, Suze.’ ‘You would?’ Suzy inquired with a smile. ‘Amos Warrington, what would I do without you?!’ ‘You’d fall victim to the Ministries’ bureaucracy,’ Amos said. ‘And trust me, no one wants to end up there….’

Thank you so much for reading this chapter! Feedback is always welcome. Did you like my work? Spread the love and reblog! :)

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[annabawritersdream]

Glossary (Valarin)

Valide: mother

Aslanım: my boy (general term of endearment)

Yapma!: Don't!

Neden, Valide?: Why, Mother?

-

January 42 FoA, Ithilien

"Valide?"

The lady of Ithilien had been sitting quietly on a wooden bench. The understated light of the pale winter sun feebly lit up her emaciated face as she perused an old tome, its thin pages more than often escaping her trembling fingers. A lonely and helpless tear streamed down her cheek as she fought unwelcomed memories and with a sigh she set the book aside, briefly shutting her eyes before she turned around.

"Aslanım," she cooed, "my brave boy, my sweetheart. Come."

He quickly strode through the green lawn and walked up to her. She glanced at him proudly as he smiled. Her firstborn, her most adored child. Her confidant, her best friend. Her pride and joy. He knelt before her, kissed her hand—the one upon which she bore the Sapphire Ring the Lady Varda had gifted her on her wedding day so many years ago—and brought it to his forehead, as it was customary among the Maiar. She nodded and he rose to his feet before she could notice. She stared at him in admiration as stood up to greet him. She leapt up at once and pulled him to a tight hug before a sharp pain in the abdomen made her flinch. Her vision blurred and she let out a whimper before she silently fell into her son's arms.

"Mother!?"

He shook her lightly. "Please, mother, don't..."

He laid her on the bench and gently rolled her around to loosen up her dress. He was no healer, but instinct told him his mother had fainted because of her usual habit of having her waist bound too tightly. He pulled the laces at the back of her dress, but it seemed to him that the more he attempted to set her free of those horrid garments, the more entangled they became. Fear soon overwhelmed him and, in a moment of sheer panic, he grabbed his dagger and cut the fabric down to her lower back. As his mother groaned and slowly regained consciousness, he helped sit and wrapped her around the cloak she usually never forgot to wear—the starry cloak of Dol Amroth.

"Valide?"

He cupped her face. "Are you alright? I..."

His voice had trailed off and his breathing had become more erratic. He sniffled and lowered his head, his gray eyes filling with unshed tears. Elenna took a deep breath and gently propped up his chin.

"Look at me, sweetheart, look at me. I am fine. It is over now. See, nothing happened. You need not worry, my sweet boy. I am well."

She jokingly pinched his nose. "Go back inside now. I will join you in a while."

"I am not going anywhere."

"Mírion, my sweetheart, it really is nothing to..."

She paused and hissed as she hastily brought a hand to her stomach, the other instinctively searching for that of her son. She gripped it and waited for the pain to wane. When it finally did fade, she let go of Mírion's hand and nonchalantly fixed her cloak.

The boy stared at her for a long while, his eyes fixed on her. He eventually scoffed.

"I should have known," he looked away. "You are with child again. Of course you are."

She caught the disappointment in his tone; disappointment that was very much akin to a bubbling rage.

"Aslanım..."

"Yapma!" He gulped, his jaw clenched. "Yapma, Valide. Yapma."

She took his hand and hinted at a conciliatory smile. "I understand why you may feel frustrated. I do. But I promise you that..."

"What are you going to promise? Tell me. What are you going to say this time? You promised you would have stopped having children after Elanorellë was born. It has been eight years. Eight years, Valide. How many miscarriages, how many losses have you been through since then? How many losses have we been through? Have you and father ever thought about it?"

"It is our decision. It is my decision."

"You nearly died the last time you gave birth to a child, do you remember that? Must you be reminded of it?"

"That is enough, aslanım. While I do understand your reaction, you should not forget that, despite my mistakes, I am still your mother. You will not speak to me in that manner again. I did not raise you to be disrespectful."

"You call it disrespect. I call it concern."

"There is nothing to be concerned about. I promise. It is the last time. I will take better care of myself, I will do everything the healers recommend. I will give your father another son and..."

"Do you hear yourself? You already have sons. Boromir and myself. No matter how many children you have, I will always be my father's heir and I certainly do not plan to die. Why must you undergo this senseless torture? Why are you doing this? Neden, Valide? Tell me."

"Sweetheart..."

"I know why," he interrupted her. "That woman said so. Void-cursed Ioreth. How many times have you promised us to send her away? Why is she still here?"

"Mírion."

"Do you not understand she has poisoned your mind?"

"Mírion, that really is enough."

"I am only speaking the truth. Is that what bothers you?"

"Mírion!"

"Hit me if you wish. Punish me as you see fit. I care not."

"How can you..."

"if something happened to you...I could not bear it. None of us could. And I do not intend to lose my mother because of an old, wretched hag who should have departed this world long ago."

He was sitting next to her, his head nestled into her shoulder. "Please. Send her away. Get rid of her. Exile her, send her away. Give her some gold, whatever she asks of you. She needs to leave."

He sat up straight and took both her hands. "Should you...if you..."

"Nothing will happen to me, son. And, in any case, Ioreth should not be blamed."

"You cannot know that. What if..."

He burst into tears as he hugged her. "Don't leave us. Please. Send that woman away. PLEASE."

"If my times comes, I have no other choice. How can I change that which has been preordained by Eru himself?"

"How can you speak of it so calmly?"

"You should not fear death. Remember what the Men of old..."

"Your pain will end. You are looking forward to it, I know that."

"Mírion."

"You will finally be free. That is true. What about us? Has it ever occurred to you that your family may suffer? Your father, your brothers, your husband, your children?"

"You will always have your father to help you and guide you."

Uncontrollable tears were running down his face, his voice reduced to a whisper. "No. He will not be here. The burden will fall on me."

"What are you saying? He cannot die and..."

"Have you not noticed he is sick!? He has been sick for years. He does not talk about it, nobody does. But my heart tells me he does not have much time. Why do you think he no longer practices with me? General Varonwë is in charge of my training now."

He sobbed. "Mother, listen to me. He is not well and, if you go, he will follow you. So, please, listen to me. If you do not care about your children...do it for him. He loves you more than anyone. Do not do this to him. Don't."

He leaned in and kissed her forehead. "Please live. I know you're in pain. Everything you have suffered, I wish I could have spared it to you. I wish I had suffered it myself. Because that would only mean one thing. Perhaps, you would be happy. That is all I have ever wanted. To see you happy. I know it hurts, but I must ask you to stay. Father needs you. My siblings need you, this child will need you. Don't you ever forget that."

His eyes suddenly caught a lonesome figure that seemed to come forward. He turned to Elenna once more.

"General Varonwë is here. I will take my leave." He hugged his mother again. "Go inside, you will be cold. Just rest, alright? I will visit you tonight before supper."

She nodded. "I love you so much, aslanım."

He smiled, his eyes still teary. "I know. I have always known. And I will love you until I last draw breath. That is my promise and I shall keep it. I shall."

-

Just a little snippet I wrote because I really couldn't sleep. It's totally unnecessary, but I felt like writing it and I think it turned out okay. It's decent, I think.

@lucifers-legions

@saurongorthaur9

@emmanuellececchi

*In Charlie's /Sauron's voice*: "Call it a gift." 🤣

Honestly, I need to write snippets because who knows when I'll get around to writing the full chapters about this. It will probably take me 30 years to get there.

(Literally Enna and Mírion brought to life)

That's the Valarin kiss (they also kneel)

[gothcsz]

𝑻𝒉𝒐𝒓𝒐𝒖𝒈𝒉𝒇𝒂𝒓𝒆 / Chapter VI.

GIF CREDIT

PAIRING: Javier Peña x Original Female Character

SUMMARY: The highly anticipated state fair performance. Here's what I envision Paloma singing: Gunpowder & Lead - Miranda Lambert, One Way or Another - Blondie, Poor, Poor Pitiful Me - Linda Ronstadt, Edge of Seventeen - Stevie Nicks. [ mini playlist ]

WORD COUNT: ~8k

RATING: 18+ Mature topics such as sex, drugs, murder, the occult, religion, cannibalism and other triggering matters will be explored in this body of work. Minors DNI.

CHAPTER SPECIFIC TAGS: The interrupted right before kissing trope is strong with this one, i think most of this is considered fluff, they're still pining after one another, other things that I'm probably forgetting.

DISCLAIMER/WARNINGS: The Javier Peña referenced in this body of work is solely based off of the character that appears in Netflix’s Narcos and not the actual person. Very canon divergent and I will tweak things as I see fit to compliment the narrative of this story. While efforts have been made to be accurate in terms of canon timeline, a lot of details will be fictionalized.

A/N: as promised, here's the other chapter for the week! i had so much fun writing this and expanding on their dynamic omg… first of all a little commotion for miss paloma…. the icon that she is! also couldn't help myself by having javi wear that sexy ass blue shirt in this… he is just so handsome… i need him BIBLICALLY i fear! i hope you guys enjoy reading, i have so much planned for this fic and it's going to get really messy here soon (: i might even post a lil moodboard for it. anyways feel free to drop any type of feedback/support on this blog or ao3. i'd really appreciate it <3

♰  read on ao3. ♰

♰  playlist | pinterest | series masterlist ♰

Finally, it’s the day of her long awaited state fair performance and Paloma is absolutely overflowing with anticipation, her energy bounding through the house like a whirlwind.

The night before was a restless blur, nerves and excitement intertwining to steal away her sleep. 

She had read a variety of newspaper articles to get more information on the fair itself. She uncovered the staggering scope of its annual attendance; a revelation that both fueled her trepidation and determination.

Her heart pounded like distant drums as the reality set in: hundreds, no, thousands of eyes would be fixed upon her. The prospect thrilled her to her core, yet it also stirred a profound stage fright.

Rarely does she feel said stage fright; memory of her last instance dating back to when she was fourteen, trembling as she took the stage at The Whiskey Fox for the very first time. Since then, her journey has been a voyage of calm seas, and now, as she’s grown into her own, Paloma is enveloped in a sense of serene confidence.

It’s understandable that she’s apprehensive about transitioning from a smaller venue to a stage at a grander event. There’s a tinge of sadness in her heart knowing that her father wouldn’t be there to accompany her. He’s witnessed her artistic evolution firsthand and has always been her staunchest supporter. Her number one fan.

Unfortunately, duty calls and with Jessica Valdez still missing; he was needed here.

On the other hand, Javier’s presence was not as essential, and Romeo practically burst with joyful relief when Paloma revealed that he would be her companion all the way to Dallas.

Just as she had expected.

Earlier in the morning, before heading off to the station, the sheriff had popped into her bedroom to wish her luck. With a tender gaze, he doted on his daughter, expressing his pride in her and, in his own unique manner, even offered a subtle apology for his recent behavior. As always, she embraced his understanding with ease, and in that moment, the weight of apprehension that had been bearing down on her lifted, replaced by a sense of relief and reassurance.

She’s currently stationed in her bedroom, sitting at her vanity and meticulously rolling her thick locks into velvety rollers that she intends to keep in place throughout the entire four-hour journey to the city. Her face is bare, dressed in a tank top and shorts and she doesn’t plan on doing much to her appearance until they make it to the fairgrounds.

As a soft rumble fills the air, she casts a glance out of her bedroom window, her lips curling into a smile at the sight of Javier’s truck rolling into view.

Fuck, she reflects on the unexpected bravery it took to ask him to join her. While her primary concern was appeasing her father, she also couldn’t deny the appeal of spending time with him.

Despite her bold and flirtatious gestures, Paloma is sure that if the opportunity to actually fuck him ever arose, she would be overcome with nerves. Don’t get her wrong; she longs to indulge her selfish desires and surrender to him completely. Yet, the thought of not meeting his expectations casts a shadow of doubt over her.

Oh, for fucks sake, Paloma— when have you ever cared about living up to a man’s expectations?

She scoffs at herself, bobby pin between her teeth as she rushes down the stairs to answer Javier’s knocking.

“I am on time, right?” He quips, his voice carrying a playful tone from the other side of the screen door since the wooden door that usually blocks it is wide open.

“Sure are. I’m the one that’s runnin’ behind. Don’t worry— just gotta get my damn hair rolled up and we’ll be ready to go. You can come in.” She motions for him to enter, pausing in the hallway that stretches toward the foyer. She steals a moment to glance at her reflection in the mirror, deftly sliding the bobby pin into her hair to secure the roller in place.

As Javier crosses the threshold, the screen door emits a reluctant groan, briefly stirring the awareness that they are alone once more in the house. However, her attention remains steadfast on ensuring that her hair is perfectly secured, leaving no room for wariness to take hold.

His gaze lingers on her figure and a gentle flush spreads across her cheeks and down her neck as she becomes acutely aware of the extent of her attire’s exposure. The lack of a bra allows her breasts to sway with every subtle movement, her nipples prominent against the fabric.

“Need help gettin’ anything into the car, nena?” With a casual lean against the wall where the mirror hangs, he directs his question to her.

“Yeah, it’s all in my room.” She spins on her heel, striding towards the stairs, with him silently shadowing her steps. The realization dawns on her that he will soon enter her room, prompting her eyes to widen in alarm as she takes in the chaotic scene before her— it looks like a fucking tornado has run through the space.

She doesn’t have any time to block him from seeing it though, and she bites down on her tongue and mentally curses herself for not cleaning up as she got ready.

Considering how frantic she’s been all morning, of course she hadn’t stopped to think about tidying up.

“Sorry for the mess… it’s been a morning.” She grumbles and Javier can’t help but be amused.

Surveying the room from the doorway, he takes in the entirety of the space, his broad figure remaining at the threshold. Posters adorn the walls, each reflecting her eclectic tastes. From the timeless southern charm of Dolly Parton to the ethereal melodies of Fleetwood Mac and the vibrant rhythms of Donna Summer. Their presence doesn’t surprise him. Instead, they offer a window into her personality, providing insight into her interests and preferences.

Javier tries not to analyze her by the things she has in her bedroom, yet he finds himself irresistibly drawn in.

It’s a facet of his innate curiosity.

He notices the scattered articles of clothing, a digital piano tucked away in the corner, and her bed left invitingly tousled. He can’t help but imagine how soft her sheets must be, laced with the natural smell of her. 

Amidst the wall space left by absent posters, her bedroom is adorned with an array of framed personal photographs, each encapsulating cherished memories from childhood whimsy to high school triumphs, and all the moments in between.

Yet, it’s the family portrait resting atop her vanity that draws Javier’s eye. He strains to decipher the intricate details of the photograph from where he stands, its contents obscured by the tilt of the frame. 

Paloma, attuned to his intense focus, trails his gaze, her stomach tightening at the realization.

Oh.

“Here, it’s my makeup bag and outfit. Please be careful taking this down. I spent all morning ironing it.” In an effort to divert his attention from the photograph, Paloma passes him her belongings. He carefully examines her features in an attempt at finding reason for her reaction, a half smile tugging at his lips.

“So bossy, hermosa. Don’t worry— your things are in capable hands.” He is reluctant to depart, preferring to linger and observe her as she completes her preparations, all the while mentally dissecting her character through the lens of her bedroom’s decor.

“Sorry, I’m just nervous.” She confesses, making her way back to her vanity, inconspicuously moving the photo of her, her mother and father out of the way as she returns to the tedious task of curling then rolling her hair.

“You’ll be fine. Pressure can either crush you or make you shine brighter. Let it be the latter. And hey, no matter what happens tonight— I’ll be right there cheering you on.” The reassurance flows from him without much thought, a rare occurrence for the man who typically struggles with offering comfort. There’s a naturalness to it, as if the words are drawn from some deep wellspring within him, bypassing the usual barriers of hesitation and uncertainty.

Paloma, sensing the sincerity in his gaze reflected back at her through the mirror, finds herself caught in the spell of his eyes. In that fleeting connection, she grants him a tender smile, her heart responding to his affection.

Unsurprisingly, the words bring her some ease, especially since she’s aware of how difficult it can be for him to muster up any type of verbal compassion. He’s a man of few words, after all, so each one carries extra weight when spoken.

“Thanks, cowboy, M’grateful for your support… and y’know, for taggin’ along even though you didn’t have to.” He nods at her, letting the comfortable silence speak for itself as she continues to get ready.

He senses an underlying urgency within her. Experience whispers caution in his ear, reminding him of the cardinal rule gleaned from years of female companionship: never incur their wrath while they are in the midst of getting ready. And so, he tears himself away, surrendering to the unspoken dictates of the feminine domain.

They’re just thirty minutes away from their destination, yet she remains fixated on the changing landscape outside the window. Her claim of not leaving Seminary in over a decade rings true, evident in the awe reflected in her eyes at the sight of skyscrapers and influx of people.

Javier can’t help but find her genuine amazement endearing, particularly as she gazes out with her hair pinned up stylishly, secured by a silk scarf. The journey to Dallas spans four hours, but the lively conversation between them makes the time fly by, rendering the trip far shorter than it actually is.

Their growing closeness feels like a beautiful risk as they delve deeper into each other’s lives with every passing mile.

“Y’know, I actually do know some Spanish.” she remarked, drumming her fingers lightly against her thigh.

“I had a hunch when you never asked me to translate my sweet talking.” With an arrogant smirk, he looks over at her.

His smirk has her playfully rolling her eyes, “No puedo leer o escribir tan bien, pero entiendo y hablo en forma conversacional. (I can’t read it or write it very well, but I understand it and speak conversationally.)” In a tender twist, her voice took on a sweeter tone in the other language, prompting Javi to shift in his seat, attempting to refrain from envisioning the enchanting timbre of her words whispered intimately in the quiet sanctuary of his sheets.

“Tu acento (Your accent) … Argentinian?” He’s got a real talent for picking up languages and accents, honed through his international collaborations in the field.

Paloma just shrugged, “Your guess is as good as mine. My momma taught me and she never really talked about her life before meetin’ daddy and stuff. I never really asked questions. After she passed, I didn’t keep up with it as much as I should have.”

The pauses in their conversation are rare, occurring only when the topics of family or his experiences in Colombia arise. Javier notices her keen interest in these subjects, her curiosity palpable. While he has been guarded about delving into anything beyond surface-level details, he finds himself gradually warming up to the notion of sharing a glimpse of his past with her, if only to satisfy her insatiable curiosity.

Yet, he holds back. This wasn’t the time. He wasn’t about to cast a shadow over her spirits.

“I can’t believe this is happening.”

Paloma disrupts the tranquil hush that had settled between them, her fascination with the scenery outside pulling her into the moment.

“Well, believe it cariño because we’re not too far from the fairgrounds.” 

“It’s like... a dream. I know, I might sound naive and childish gettin’ this worked up about performing at a damn fair. It just means a lot to me. I’ve poured my heart into my music for so long and to see it culminate in this moment is just... thrilling.”

A pang of longing for her mother’s presence washes over her, silently echoing within her thoughts. Yet she refrains from uttering the sentiment aloud, keeping her yearning hidden beneath a veil of silence.

“It’s a big and well deserved step forward, Paloma.” He pauses briefly, looking over at her, “This means the world to you. You’re going to be amazing.”

Javier’s hand, warm and reassuring, gently finds hers, creating a tender connection that sends a surge of warmth coursing through her veins. The soft brush of his skin against hers ignites a gentle flutter in her chest, stirring feelings she doesn’t want to admit. It’s as if a silent symphony plays between their touch, drawing her attention away from the scenery outside and directing it towards him.

With a soft, almost imperceptible smile, she meets his gaze, finding a silent reassurance and a flicker of something more lingering in his brown eyes.

Arriving at their designated area, meticulously mapped out in a thorough letter sent by Wendy to Paloma, she eagerly jumps out of his truck, bubbling with excitement, while he indulgently rolls his eyes at her enthusiasm.

Delighted to find the band already present and nearly done with setup, she breezes towards them despite her ridiculous appearance, exuding a radiant glow that outshines any imperfection. Her infectious happiness spreads like wildfire as she enthusiastically goes through the rundown of the gig with the group.

Javier stays out of the way, leaning against the bed of his truck. With a cigarette between his fingers and wisps of smoke curling into the air, he drifts into introspection

His mind becomes a labyrinth of memories, weaving through the tapestry of his past— the triumphs and tribulations, the moments of light and shadow. Amidst the haze of contemplation, he finds clarity in the decision that brought him to this juncture: the choice to refrain from confronting the Cali cartel.

Having spent years evading the ordinary, Javier stumbles upon an unforeseen refuge in monotony. With the weight of his taxing agent job finally lifted, he embraces the simplicity of everyday life with a newfound sense of relief.

As the days pass, Javier slowly discovers a peace he has long evaded, savoring the quiet moments that once seemed dull.

While the looming homicide cases in Seminary present formidable challenges, each one a puzzle demanding his attention, he approaches them with a newfound confidence. It’s a stark contrast to the uncertainty that had clouded his final days in Colombia.

However, amidst this newfound tranquility, there persists a secret too delicate to utter aloud. His ongoing infatuation with Paloma, a woman whose presence has become both a source of comfort and turmoil. He won’t acknowledge her significant role in his newfound ability to cope. Such complexities are best left uncharted, buried beneath the surface of their convoluted relationship.

Engrossed in his thoughts, Javier doesn’t notice when she approaches him.

“M’gonna go get ready. Sure you can survive a few hours without me?” She teases him and he exhales the smoke away from her, the aviators on his face masking the adoration gleaming in his eyes.

“I think I should be asking you that question, palomita.” The new term of endearment sends her heart aflutter, and she can’t help but feel how it resonates more when Javier says it in Spanish compared to when August had uttered it in English...

Little dove.

“In that case, no, I’d simply crumble without you.” She over exaggerates her words, punctuating them with a playful gesture and a touch of dramatic flair.

Their laughter intertwines, and her smile blooms into a radiant expression of affection.

“Órale nena, go get ready before you’re late to your own performance.” Javier indulges in another puff of his cigarette, and like the good girl she is, she saunters around the truck to fetch her belongings before heading off to the portable trailer, her makeshift dressing room for the evening.

In Paloma’s absence, he engages in conversation with the band members. Comprising three men and one woman, they share with him the story of how they met and how Paloma reignited their passion for music. The narrative resonates with her persona and innate ability to effortlessly charm those in her presence.

Javier an unsuspecting victim of this charm.

When the sun begins to set, he looks down at his watch to check the time as her lively voice draws near.

“Alright y’all, how do I look?”

Javier’s gaze falls on her. It’s as if the world around him fades into insignificance, leaving only her radiant presence to fill his senses. His breath gets caught in his chest, suspended in the awe that washes over him.

She beams with pride at the ensemble she’s meticulously curated.

A crimson leather corset embraces her waist with finesse, fashioned in the likeness of a halter top, baring her shoulders and presenting a tantalizing canvas of skin for all eyes to see. Her cleavage looks so inviting, accentuated by her mother’s cross pendant nestled against her breasts. She transformed a pair of aged low-rise jeans, adding intricate rhinestone patterns that promise to dance enchantingly under the glare of the stage lights.

The buckle on her belt is beautiful and distinguishable, an important accessory down here in Texas; she’s made sure that her boots match her attire.

Her hair cascades in perfect waves, thick and luscious, framing her face with a touch of effortless glamor. It’s been a long time since she’s had a full face of makeup on, and the strip lashes are uncomfortable against the sensitive skin but beauty is pain and goddamnit she’s stunning.

She feels the part of a super star, and her band members do nothing but boost her ego as they begin to shower her in compliments and friendly catcalls. She indulges them with a twirl, allowing them to admire her outfit from every angle.

Javier stays silent, dumbfounded entirely by how fucking hot she looks.

“I think I just saw a horsefly fly into his mouth.” One of the bandmates teases and this has Javier snapping out of it, meeting Paloma’s expectant gaze.

For a man who always has something to say, especially in the company of beautiful women, he finds himself at a loss for words.

“You look gorgeous, querida.”

She blushes, murmuring a soft ‘thank you’ as her eyes momentarily flicker down to her square-toed boots. It’s exasperating how easily he can get her flustered. The compliment isn’t extravagant, yet it strikes her deeply nonetheless.

She won’t admit that the extra effort she invested in her appearance tonight was not just for the event; but also for him. She is aware that Javier finds her attractive and it harbors this desire to unveil a new facet of her beauty to him so he can see all the types of beautiful she can be.

As the rest of the group disperses to squeeze in some last minute warm ups, Paloma saunters toward him. Her hands rest confidently on her hips as his gaze traverses the curves of her form, unabashed and unapologetic.

“I’m serious. You look hot and I know you’ll look even better when you’re up there doin’ what you’re so passionate about.” His words have her heart racing, igniting a kaleidoscope of fireworks that burst with intensity within her core.

“You’re quite the charmer, aren’t you?” 

“Only when I’m around someone as captivating as you.”

Fuck.

“Flattery will get you everywhere, you know.”

“Is that so?” With a contemplative tilt of his head, he gazes at her, his aviators now absent, allowing her to lose herself yet again in the depths of his enchanting eyes. “Well, in that case, I’ll have to keep it coming. After all, I can’t resist making a beautiful woman smile.”

They stand toe to toe, Paloma tilting her chin upward to meet his gaze while Javier gently inclines his head downward to meet her eyes.

As he looks down at her, the thought of planting a gentle kiss on her lips, a token of good luck, flits through his mind. Just as the impulse begins to take hold, fate intervenes and Paloma is called to the stage, leaving their moment suspended in anticipation.

“Break a leg, palomita.” He tells her, stepping back so she can make her way up the steps.

It is both everything yet nothing she expected.

As she ascended the stage, she discerned a comforting familiarity: the typical audience size from her usual gigs back home. This recognition alone served as a balm to her nerves, reassuring her that she could handle it.

It felt decidedly manageable. Yet, as the performance progressed, the crowd swelled to such a density that individual faces blurred into an indistinguishable mass, a sea of humanity stretching before her.

With every fiber of her being, she poured herself into that performance, channeling raw emotion and passion into each note. This may very well be her first and last time gracing an event this grand, and she was determined to leave an indelible mark.

This wasn’t just a performance; it was a cathartic release, a showcase of her skills. It is no surprise that the crowd was thoroughly charmed and entertained beyond measure.

As the final note faded into the night, she knew she’d given it her all, leaving nothing but her heart and soul on that stage.

She reaches the backstage area, exuding palpable excitement and practically launching herself into Javier’s awaiting embrace. He catches her with ease, sensing the electrifying energy coursing through her as her arms wrap tightly around him in a warm hug. With her legs securely wrapped around his waist, he spins her around in a joyful twirl before gently lowering her back to the ground, their shared enthusiasm filling the air with an infectious energy.

“You did so good, hermosa.” Javier gazes warmly at her, his lips curved in a genuine smile. 

“That was so exhilarating, holy shit!” The expletives fly from her lips and this only deepens his amusement.

“Like, I almost blacked out out of excitement.” Paloma inhales deeply, her chest expanding and contracting with each breath, her heart pounding so vigorously it feels as if it might leap from her chest at any moment.

The rest of the band gathers around, exchanging congratulations and warm embraces. Paloma takes a moment to express her heartfelt gratitude, her voice tinged with sentimentality as she thanks them for steadfastly supporting her seemingly silly musical aspirations.

“Oh, that reminds me,” She breaks away from the small group, strolling over to Javier’s truck. Retrieving her purse, she rummages inside and retrieves a disposable camera she had brought along for the occasion. “Can you take a picture of us?” She asks with a gentle pout, her eyes sparkling as she looks up at Javier.

“‘Course.” Javi readily accepts the camera from her hand and steps back to make sure they’re all in frame. He snaps the photo, the flash is blinding for the split second it appears before he hands her back the camera.

“Gracias cowboy.” 

Her voice carries a playful sweetness that has him feeling like a lovestruck fool.

The band leaves to head back home, the sun now fully set as Javier and Paloma remain. Their figures casually propped against his truck, casting a relaxed silhouette against the backdrop of the vibrant fair lights sprawled out before them.

“We should get going—”

“You’re kidding, right?” Paloma interrupts, leveraging herself off the hood of the truck with a fluid motion, positioning herself directly in his line of sight. Her hands find their place firmly on her hips, projecting an aura of assertiveness.

“No…?” He answers unsurely, his gaze sweeping over her form from head to toe.

“I haven’t been to the fair since I was a kid. I just have to ride one ride... and indulge in some fried goodness... and maybe try one of those tricky carnival games,” She shares eagerly, her lower lip caught between her teeth.

She gazes at him with those bewitching eyes of hers, he silently curses himself for knowing he’ll give in.

“I dunno, princesa, it’s getting pretty late…” Fighting a fight he knows he’ll lose, he still moves forward with his opposition. The least desirable outcome from staying late would be facing an irate sheriff questioning why his daughter returned home in the dead of night instead of the earlier time she’d promised.

“Oh don’t be such a stick in the mud. We’re allowed to have fun every once and a while. If it’s my daddy you’re worried about; he’ll get over it.” Paloma draws nearer to him, her hands delicately clasped behind her back, the fusion of her perfume and innate scent enthralls him completely.

Javier can’t help but surrender to her charm.

“Fine.”

A large smile spreads on her crimson tinted lips and she squeals, clapping her hands together before tugging him in the direction of the bustling fair.

The first thing Paloma does is drag him over to a food stand where she proceeds to order a funnel cake, fried oreos and two way too large lemonades.

“Fried oreos?” His nose scrunches at the idea which earns him a soft slap to the arm.

“They are quite literally the best damn thing to ever be invented.” She defends the unhealthy snack, reaching into her bag to pull out money to pay but Javier stops her before she gets the chance to. 

As he smoothly glides a bill across the counter, Paloma feels a warm flush creep up her cheeks at the simple gesture. A flicker of uncertainty dances in her mind as she ponders the significance of this moment— is it possible that this is... a date?

No, certainly it isn’t. It’s an outing between two friends. He is just being a gentleman and paying for their food. No big deal, right?

In the quiet recesses of her mind, she revisits their flirty exchange shared just moments before she took the stage and the gentle display of affection that followed after her performance had concluded.

Don’t overthink it, Paloma, just enjoy the moment.

So, she pushes all those thoughts aside as they patiently wait for their order. 

“I’ll be the judge of that.” He grumbles with his arms folded protectively across his chest.

She finds herself entranced by the sight of him. His torso is adorned in a brightly colored blue shirt that accentuates his handsome features paired with jeans that sinfully cling to him. She marvels at how effortlessly he pulls off this 70s-inspired ensemble. It’s just one more reason among the many of why she finds him so irresistibly attractive.

Their order number is called and they swiftly collect their things, moving over to an empty picnic table and sitting across from each other.

“Alright, be prepared to have your mind blown.” She plucks one of the golden-fried treats from the paper tray and slides the remainder enticingly across the table to him.

Javier eyes the dessert carefully before picking one up and observing it.

“There is no way this is good for you.” He remarks skeptically.

“It’s not supposed to be good for you it’s supposed to taste good.” Paloma counters, taking a bite and emitting a satisfied hum at the burst of flavor, “If that’s the case then you shouldn’t smoke. There’s no way cigarettes are good for you.” She mocks him, a playful glint in her eye as he scoffs in response.

Following her lead, he gingerly takes a bite, his brow furrowing at the unexpected taste.

“Absolutely not,” He declares, confirming his verdict with a decisive shake of his head.

“Oh, you are so lame.” They laugh and she drags the tray over to her side, “Whatever, more for me. Just please don’t tell me you’re a funnel cake hater too.” She plops another one into her mouth, her gaze fixated on him.

“Rest assured I’m not a funnel cake hater. It was my favorite growing up. Haven’t had one in ages.” Now that, Javier easily snacks on as they seamlessly weave through conversations, trading tales of cherished childhood snacks.

Once they finish, he gathers their garbage and goes to dispose of it in a bin nearby. Upon his return to the table, his eyes sweep the surroundings, only to discover that they are no longer in solitude; a small group has gravitated towards Paloma, eager to engage her in conversation.

This puts him on edge, slightly, eyeing the interaction.

Amidst their conversation, he catches fragments of praise floating in the air, surmising that they must be members of the audience who had seen her perform.

His suspicions are proven right once they leave and she turns to him with a bright smile.

“Looks like I’m not your only groupie anymore.” 

“Oh don’t be jealous. You’ll always be my favorite.” As she rises from her seat to join him, he gently intercepts, his gaze fixating on a subtle trace of powdered sugar lingering at the corner of her lips.

“Hold on…” He murmurs, stepping closer to her, bringing his thumb up to his lips then wiping away at the spot.

A shiver jolts up her spine, her breath catching in her throat as his seemingly simple gesture sends waves of arousal rippling through her. He is driving her crazy.

“I— thank you.” She blushes, “Oh man, that means I had a whole conversation with food on my face.” Slightly embarrassed, she slaps her palm against her forehead and he chuckles at her.

“There are worst things to be embarrassed over.” He shrugs and she nods, “ So, what now miss I absolutely have to stay and enjoy the fair.” Javier teases, as they begin to walk around the fairgrounds. 

Paloma rolls her eyes, “You’re like an insufferable child.” She can’t help but comment, eyeing some of the rides until she spots the drop tower. “Ooh, let’s do that one.” She practically races over to the large structure, leaving Javi behind.

“Who’s the child now?” He murmurs to himself, trailing after her.

Standing in line together, they exchange playful jabs at the people around them in whispered tones. For the first time in a very long time, Javier finds himself genuinely laughing.

“We have to get on the pendulum ride after this. Oh, and the gravitron. I also really like those spinny swings.” As she rambles on about her beloved rides, his gaze lingers on her radiant beauty. Moreso since she’s adorned with an enchanting smile and enveloped in laughter. With each joyful expression, Javier feels a familiar tug at his heartstrings, the same irresistible pull he’s been steadfastly pushing aside since their very first encounter.

This is definitely more than just some sexual infatuation. The revelation that he harbors genuine feelings for Paloma weighs heavily in his chest. In that moment of clarity, he understands the need to consider stepping back, for the well-being of them both.

He doesn’t want to hurt her.

But for tonight, he will let himself enjoy her company and everything that entails to. He grants himself this rare luxury under the guise that it’s for her sake.

“You’re ambitious tryin’ to get on all these rides, querida. Gonna end up puking all your precious fried oreos out.” They’re at the front of the line now, and as Javier makes his remark, one of the exiting patrons from the ride hurls over and throws up in a nearby bin.

They share a look before breaking out into a harmonious laugh. She finds herself yearning to capture this perfect moment, to preserve its essence in the confines of a frame, forever etched in her memory.

“Impeccable timing, vaquero.” They board the ride together, sitting right next to one another and she swings her legs softly as the attendant comes around to make sure they’re strapped in properly.

“I’ve done a lotta dangerous shit in my life but riding one of these seems to be at the top of the list.” He tells her as they begin their ascend to the top.

“Don’t tell me a little fair ride is more dangerous than an armed drug dealer.”

“Drug dealers are predictable. Fair rides aren’t— how can you actually trust somethin’ that’s disassembled, packed away then rebuilt elsewhere. How are you so sure they build it adequately each time? You’ve seen the people who run this. It’s sketchy.”

“Sounds like you’re scared. Don’t be scared, Javi. Here— you can hold my hand.” She extends her hand, reaching out to gently grasp his, intertwining their fingers and applying a tender squeeze. He’s not scared he’s just wary, but feeling the weight of her hand in his is enough to fizzle those inconvenient thoughts away as they’re suspended in the air for what feels like forever before they finally drop.

Paloma releases a delighted squeal, erupting into a chorus of giggles as they reach the base of the ride. “See? That wasn’t too bad. The ride didn’t collapse and we live to see another day.” With a final squeeze, she relinquishes his hand and they get off the ride swiftly.

Similar scenarios unfold as they explore the other attractions; their banter punctuated by playful jabs at the people in line and Javier meticulously dissects the safety measures (or lack thereof) of each attraction. Despite his scrutiny, he finds himself thoroughly enjoying the experience alongside her.

As they stroll through the carnival game section, Javier’s eyes light up as he catches sight of a tacky looking plush snake, swiftly diverting Paloma’s attention towards it.

“Isn’t that your favorite thing in the world?” He teases, feigning curiosity, earning an eye roll from Paloma as she playfully pinches his forearm.

“Not a fan of real snakes and reptiles, you goof,” She retorts with a grin. “But I’ve got nothing against a cute little stuffed animal like that.”

“Do you want it?” He asks, gravitating towards the stand and she follows.

“What, are you gonna win it for me?” She questions with a flirtatious lilt, twirling a lock of her hair as she raises her eyebrows, a playful sparkle dancing in her chocolate brown eyes.

“I will, if you want it.”

“If I want it that means you have to win it. And you know what they say about these games…”

Their banter continues as they approach the stand. Javier reads that it’s a baseball toss bottle game and he smiles cockily.

“What do they say?”

“They’re rigged and impossible to win.”

“Well lucky for you, nena, I’ve got the best arm in Laredo.”

Paloma’s interest is piqued, her head tilting slightly as she observes him. “You play baseball?” She asks, her tone curious and attentive.

Javier hands over payment to the teenager tending to the stand, effortlessly cradling three baseballs in one hand. This has Paloma licking her lips.

Her gaze is drawn to the rugged contours and sinewy strength, imagining the delicious weight of them against her skin. There’s an electric charge in the air, sending shivers of anticipation straight to her cunt.

“I did. All the way through college.” Oh she can see him now, clad in those tight baseball uniforms. She bets his ass looks amazing in the pants.

“The more you know.” She muses, “But that was like, all the way back when baseball was first invented.” She patronizes him, never getting tired of making jokes about his age.

“Ha, ha. So funny and original.” 

“Alright darlin’ enough yappin’, let’s see Laredo’s best.” She’s fully expecting him to fumble, honestly.

Javier rolls his shoulders, stretching his arms, and Paloma’s eyes linger on the way his shirt molds to his defined muscles with each movement. His broad shoulders and flexing biceps command her attention as he effortlessly pulls his arm back and throws the ball with graceful ease.

In one fluid motion, he knocks down all the bottles.

A satisfied smirk graces his lips as he turns to meet Paloma’s gaze.

“Told you.”

She lets out a low whistle, clapping her hands together in a slow applause. “Alright, I stand corrected.” she admits with a smile.

The worker hands Javier the stuffed animal, and he extends it towards her.

“For you.”

“Such a gentleman.” She murmurs softly, pulling the prize close to her chest. The sight of her holding it with such tenderness is one that will linger in his memory for days to come.

“Oh shit.” She begins, a hint of dismay in her tone, but his concern melts away as she retrieves her camera from her bag. “Forgot to take more pictures. Do you mind gettin’ one with me?” There’s a hint of shyness in her request, and he shakes his head.

“Don’t mind at all, cariño.” He assures her with a warm smile.

She returns his smile and proceeds to ask the teenager at the stand to take their photo, who obliges, undoubtedly persuaded by her beauty.

“Alright we’ll do a smiley one then a silly one.” She suggests, stepping back to Javier’s side and leaning against him, her eyes twinkling as they prepare to capture the moment.

He doesn’t pose, instead, he gazes at her admiringly, wondering how he’ll summon the courage to distance himself from her after tonight.

She tilts her head to meet his gaze after the photos are taken, mirroring the affection in his eyes before stepping away to retrieve her camera.

Javier clears his throat, the sound breaking the carnival’s cheerful din as he glances down at his watch. The hands inch towards midnight, a reminder of the impending end to their evening. “ Los tenemos que ir (we have to go).” He says softly, his voice carrying a hint of reluctance.

She pouts slightly, pursing her bottom lip.“One more ride, please Javi. We didn’t get on the ferris wheel.”

As he’s done all night, Javier acquiesces, unable to resist her earnest plea. “You are a very persistent and spoiled little thing,” He remarks, fondness lacing his words. Her playful smile transforms into a devious smirk at his observation.

“Thank you.”

The bench-style seating on the ferris wheel feels snug, their bodies nestled close together as the metal bar rests across their laps.

Despite the attendant’s insistence that she couldn’t bring it on the ride, Paloma clung to the plush snake he’d won for her as she (politely) told him to fuck off.

At first, silence envelops them, the rhythmic creaking of the ride the only sound as they ascend to the pinnacle of it. Lost in their own thoughts, they share a quiet intimacy, their hearts beating in synchrony.

The fair lights twinkle and sway, casting a glow upon Paloma’s face. In that moment, bathed in the colorful illumination, her beauty is magnified. If that's even possible.

“What’s goin’ on inside that pretty head of yours?” Javier breaks the quiet between them, and she turns to meet his gaze.

“Tonight has been one of the best nights I’ve had in a while... and you’re part of the reason.” She confesses, her voice sincere, melting the barriers he’s long held onto.

“It has nothing to do with me and everything to do with you, palomita.” He responds, his arm draped along the back of their seat. Unable to resist, she leans in closer, finding comfort in the warmth of his embrace.

His smell envelops her, intoxicating her senses as she inhales the earthy musk of his cologne mingled with a hint of sweetness from their shared meal earlier.

“I mean it, Javi. Ever since you came to Seminary my life has been a lot more… fun.” She tells him earnestly, her voice barely above a whisper. Their proximity is electric, teetering on the edge of temptation, and her words only add fuel to the fire.

Her name escapes his lips like a solemn prayer, a gentle reminder of the boundaries they’re dancing dangerously close to. Their lips barely graze each other, his mustache tickling the sensitive skin above her lip.

Suddenly, the ride lurches with an unexpected jolt, shattering the tender moment between them. She swiftly withdraws, seeking whatever space their cramped confines afford her, her fingers clenching the metal bar for stability.

“Told you I didn’t trust these damn things.” He mutters, his palm clammy as he rubs it against the coarse denim of his jeans. His throat tightens with a heavy swallow.

Silence cloaks them like a heavy blanket for the remainder of the ride and even as they walk side by side to his truck.

No words pass between them.

Paloma leans against the window, mirroring her posture from the ride up, exhaustion seeping into her bones after the long day. She resists the urge to dwell on the events of the evening with Javier, instead surrendering to the pull of sleep. Her eyelids flutter closed, and soon, she drifts unconscious.

He steals a sideways glance at her, strands of hair cascading over her features like a veil. Amidst the quiet hum of the car, he catches the faint sound of her soft snores.

His shoulders slump in resignation as he replays their moment on the ferris wheel in his mind, each iteration leaving him more conflicted than before. Would they have shared a kiss if not for the technical issue?

He wants to believe they wouldn’t have; that he would have had the strength to pull away before it was too late. But the enticement of her lips, the desire to taste her, lingers in his thoughts like an unshakeable temptation.

Gripping the steering wheel tightly, he wrestles with his inner turmoil for the duration of the journey back to Seminary.

“I’m still so upset I couldn’t go. It woulda been so fun.” Sloane remarks from her spot on Paloma’s bed, idly flipping through a magazine while her friend meticulously applies nail polish.

Days have passed since the state fair, leaving Paloma and Javier in an awkward limbo. She despises the distance that has grown between them. How could she have been so foolish as to ruin their night by coming off as strong as she had? Everything had been going perfectly until then. Had she scared him off? Was his silence a sign of disinterest?

It’s all so fucking confusing.

“Uh, hello. Earth to Paloma.” Slo snaps her fingers and this gets her attention, looking up from her hand to meet her friend’s gaze.

“Sorry, I wish you coulda been there too.” She gives her a tight lipped smile and this has Sloane narrowing her eyes at her.

“Alright, spill. What happened?”

She snorts, shaking her head and returning to the task at hand. “Nothin’ happened.”

“Lie to somebody who doesn’t know you.” She shifts from her spot on the mattress, sprawling herself on the floor in front of Paloma.

She eyes her friend briefly before letting out a sigh and twisting the cap on the polish. “Fine. I think I fucked things up between me and Javier.”

That was certainly not what Sloane was expecting her to admit, but she’s intrigued nevertheless and she turns to lay on her side, head in her hand and elbow propping her up.

“Don’t tell me you slept with him.”

Paloma’s face flushes, despite having a plethora of erotic dreams starring the man in question, “Wha— No. I didn’t. Jesus…” She mutters, attempting to blow the polish on her right hand dry. “We actually had a great night.” She can’t help the small smile that plays on her lips at the remembrance of said night.

“Okay…” Sloane urges her to continue, “For a songwriter you sure are a shit storyteller.”

Paloma flips her off and Slo blows her a kiss, “Things between us have always been flirty. It was fun at first, exhilaratin’ and what not. Then… feelings started developin’. I like him, Slo. Like him like him.” It’s the first time she’s said this outloud and the confession has her feeling lightheaded.

“Awe, my baby is growin’ up. She’s got a crush.” Her friend teases, poking at her exposed calf.

“Yeah, well, I don’t even know if he feels the same way. I mean, at first I thought he did then I… we almost kissed on the ferris wheel and he hasn’t talked to me since.”

Sloane flashes her a sympathetic stare, “Well he’s an idiot for not kissin’ you. Let’s start there.” She sits upright, matching Paloma’s stance, “Are you really surprised? Not to burst your little schoolgirl crush bubble but it’s obvious what typa man he is. Flirty, handsome, charismatic. Sex on legs— a long trail of broken hearts follow that man. C’mon, baby, you must know this.”

Paloma is keenly aware of his reputation as a charming playboy, a fact that’s far from concealed. Now, she’s flooded with feelings of foolishness and embarrassment for how she had openly pursued him. It was almost inevitable; of course, he would reciprocate her advances. After all, what man could resist when a beautiful woman is vying for his attention?

The thought that he might have lost interest gnaws at her, causing an ache in her chest. Aside from all the romantic stuff, she genuinely enjoyed his company.

She chooses not to dwell further on the topic, and her friend seems to pick up on her reluctance.

In a sudden twist of conversation, Sloane announces, “Guess who has a house now.” Paloma’s attention perks up in surprise.

“What, really? Since when?” From what she knows, Sloane and a few others have been living long term at the only motel in town. They hadn’t intended on staying in Seminary very long which is why Paloma had gotten her the job at the bar in the first place, so she could save up some money to keep trekking.

Hearing that she now has an actual place to call home brings nothing but joy and excitement for her friend.

“Since a few days ago. We’ve been so damn busy that I haven’t been able to tell you. Completely unexpected, too. Apparently some broad August used to know finally croaked and she left him with her entire estate.”

Paloma’s eyes widen at the news, “Jeez, talk about impeccable timing. I’m glad y’all got it worked out. Now you’re stuck here with me.” She jests, “When can I visit?”

Sloane taps the tip of her chin, “What about tomorrow? It’s about an hour drive from here—”

“An hour?!” Paloma interjects, incredulous.

“— and it’s beautiful . You’d love it. Don’t get hung up on somethin’ as trivial as travel time .”  

Sloane’s right, outside from the hub in town; their residence is situated in a predominantly rural expanse, making lengthy travel times like that unusual. And with her car now up and running, Paloma has a newfound sense of freedom to explore beyond their immediate surroundings.

“Fine, tomorrow sounds good. You can stay the night and I’ll drive you there in the morning.” She offers, prompting Sloane to break out into a giant grin.

[maddieautobot273]

Silk & Cologne (60)

A Miguel O'Hara x OC Fanfic - link to AO3 (X)

Chapter 60: Dinner - previous chapter (X)

Pairing: Miguel O'Hara x Female OC Spidersona

Words: 5.6K+

Warnings: Mentions of previous physical abuse and emotional trauma, mentions of sexual innuendos and items

Summary: Lisa and Miguel spend some quality time with her family in Seoul and attempt to reconnect.

*******

I was quiet as Grandma Park called us down for tea. Miguel and I made our way downstairs to the kitchen and I could barely fumble for words as I nodded silently towards her, thanking her for the drink as I tried to will myself not to look out into the backyard again. Jin was here. 

Of course he’s here, dummy, this is his home. This was bound to happen eventually. I just didn’t think this would happen in the mere minutes I’d arrive here. 

The tea had a pleasant scent and the taste was soothing, but not soothing enough to calm my nerves completely. Miguel sat with me at the counter, his free hand gently running down my back before the warmth of his palm pressed into the small of my back.

“We’ll be here for a few days. You don’t have to see him today if you’re not ready.” He said. 

I pondered the thought. The idea of pushing off our meeting until tomorrow or even the last day of our trip had its promises. But I also wasn’t looking forward to these jittering nerves snapping at my heels and fluttering in my stomach until it actually happened. 

“I was planning to serve a Tteokbokki and pork belly buffet tonight.” Grandma Park approached from the opposite side of the counter with her own mug. “But if you’re not ready, I can prepare a plate for you if you’d like to eat out in the garden. It’s especially lovely with the lights on at night.”

My mouth watered at the mention of the rice cakes and pork belly. Other than the kimchi, it was my absolutely most favourite dish I’ve had during my time in Korea, probably one of my favourite foods of all time, and the way Grandma Park made it was positively sublime. As if sensing the turmoil within me, Miguel’s hand brushed up my back again as his soft chuckle lured me to look over at him. 

“Don’t drool mi Mona Lisa, don’t let poor Grandpa Park think you’ve been starved this whole time.” He smirked. 

“Or I could just make Sujebi instead?” Grandma suggested with a teasing glint in her voice as she stared me down with a twinkle in her eye. 

My eyes went wide as I set the cup down, hands flailing. “No, no, no, it’s fine!” Plus, Sujebi had a little too many vegetables for my personal liking. 

“I’m teasing, tokki.” Grandma Park calmed me down with a gentle laughter. “But in all seriousness, do you want to wait?”

I glanced between her and Miguel, seeing a look of support and strength in his eyes. It filled me with the lack of confidence I wasn’t feeling earlier. I regained my composure before meeting my grandmother’s gaze again. 

“No, I. . . I want to do it tonight. I can do it.” 

“I’m so glad!” Grandma Park smiled, eyes brightening as she clapped her hands together. “If you want, why don’t you both help me prepare everything? It will be great bonding!”

I nodded along in agreement. “I think it could be fun.” Also a great distraction until tonight. 

“I’d be honoured to help, Grandma Park.” Miguel offered her a kind smile as his free and came up to squeeze my shoulder with a comforting gaze. “Lisa has been singing your high praises about your ‘killer’ kimchi since she told me about this trip.”

“Aya! The kimchi, of course, how could I forget? I’ll make that too.” Grandma Park’s eyes lit up as she suddenly scrambled from the fridge to an assortment of cabinets to gather ingredients. “In fact, Miguel, why don’t I show you how to make it?”

The look on Miguel’s face made me snort as his eyes went wide. “¿Lo siento?” Ge glanced between her and myself with surprise, I was surprised he remembered to set his cup down before almost losing it out of his grasp as he looked at me. “Are you sure?” - What, sorry? 

“You’ll be okay.” I reassured him as Grandma Park ushered him to come around the counter. 

I watched as he got up from his seat and walked around, joining her as they both washed their hands before getting started. “So, Miguel, when are you and Lisa getting married?”

It was as if every piece of glass and fine China shattered in the room, no, the world. Way to blindside us grandma, I didn’t know you were that desperate for grandkids!

My heart was pounding in my chest as I sat there completely frozen as a statue. Of course Grandma could be a little forward, but this was absolutely pushing it to the limit and then some. I look over at Miguel, terrified about how he’ll respond as I can see the gears in his head turning. As if sensing my distress, whether noticing my physical reaction or through our bond, Miguel clears his throat, looking at my grandmother dead in the eyes. 

“That depends, are you paying for the wedding?” 

There was a brief pause before she burst into laughter, her hand smacking the table. “Oh, ho, ho, you’re a funny one!” 

Miguel glanced over at me, winking playfully as the red crimson hue flickered in his eyes. Crisis averted. Well played, smooth operator Miguel.

“Now then, Lisa tells me you work in a tech company?” 

Grandma Park and Miguel chatted as they prepared the spicy cabbage dish. Miguel gave her the same speech as I had done in the past with my friends, minus all of the Spider Society and him being from another dimension. He had explained that while he was born and raised in New York, I almost caught his Nueva York slip up with a silent warning gaze, his family came from Mexico. 

“Oh, I love Mexico!” She smiled brightly, her voice a stunned awe as she glanced over at me. “Your grandfather and I went there for our 2nd honeymoon, it’s absolutely beautiful!” 

“2nd honeymoon?” I gawked at the older woman. “This is the first I’m hearing of this. When did that happen?”

“Oh it was years ago, tokki, after we renewed our vows.” Grandma Park waved it off as if it were nothing. “It was absolutely breathtaking. Miguel, would you take Lisa to Mexico anytime soon?”

My cheeks turned red as I nearly choked on my tea as I slammed the cup onto the counter. “Grandma!”

“What? I’m just saying it’s a lovely vacation destination, perfect for the summer or if you need a break from winter, which I hear New York’s are atrocious.” Grandma played it off again as she was just making idle conversation. 

Miguel stayed quiet at first, following along with grandma as he helped her spread the kimchi paste along the watered and salted cabbage, turning the green leaf into a spicy red. Our eyes met and a pulse of warmth suddenly shot through the bond as he smiled warmly. “I’ll put something in the books.”

I hid my face with my mug, sipping my tea almost too loudly and not at all suspicious. ‘You’re saying that to not hurt her feelings are you?’ 

‘Would you like to go? I’d love to show you around my Mexico City, or we can go to yours. I’m not picky. Although for me personally, your oceans look so much cleaner.’

‘I’ve. . . never been to Mexico.’ I admitted honestly, sparing a glance at him. 

He kept his gaze on me the whole time, and never looked away once. 

‘That settles it then. Let’s plan a trip together once we get back.’ He smiled at me and then his face suddenly contorted as if holding back a sneeze. “Is that–?”

“Ah, you must have smelled the chili powder. I tend to use more than the recipe requires to give a little more of a kick. Are you alright, Miguel?” Grandma Park asked out of concern after Miguel shook it off with a disgruntled huff. 

“Yes, I’m fine, just. . . allergies.” Miguel answered after a brief pause and then instantly regretted it when she gasped. 

“Allergies?” Grandma Park lifted a hand towards her mouth but recoiled, almost staining her mouth with the paste. 

“No, no, he’s not allergic to this, grandma,” I reassured her, reaching over and comforting her. “Miguel has a very. . . sensitive sense of smell.” I glanced over at Miguel, searching for any sign that I was overstepping. “Since he was a kid.”

“Yes. . .” Miguel nodded slowly in acknowledgement. “Sorry, I got my words confused.”

“Ah, I see. . .” Grandma Park nodded along. 

“Apologies for scaring you.” Miguel glanced over at her, an apologetic look in his eyes. 

“It’s quite alright.” Grandma Park smiled warmly. Then her face suddenly lit up as she reached and opened a drawer. “I have an idea!”

She rummaged around for a moment before pulling out something I didn’t quite make out at first. She turned to Miguel, motioning for him to lean forward. Miguel had a puzzled yet curious look on his face as he did as asked and then my mouth dropped as she slipped on a pair of scuba goggles on him. 

There was no air in my lungs as my hand went up to my mouth, desperately trying to mutter my laughter. Miguel stood back up, exchanging a look that said ‘I’d never buy you coffee ever again’. 

“Not a word to any of our friends back home.” He grumbled after I snapped a picture on my phone. 

By friends, I knew he mostly meant Lyla. 

“I promise.” I singsonged, crossing my heart with my finger. 

Miguel and Grandma Park resumed their work on the Kimchi. As I watched them while finishing my tea, trying as I might, despite my brain telling me repeatedly to not look, I turned and glanced toward the giant glass windows that overlooked their backyard. 

I found Grandpa talking with Jin, Pom Pom’s little tail wagging excitedly as they hovered near their feet. They looked over a series of flowerbeds in the garden, probably discussing the flowers. Jin actually seemed. . . relaxed. Dare I say happy. 

I glanced down at my now empty tea cup, a nervous bubble forming in the pit of my stomach. 

I can do it. 

*********

The hours seemed to slowly tick by, as if the universe was taunting me about the inevitable. Watching Miguel spend time and getting to know my grandparents helped me a little with my nerves, and whenever I needed him, Miguel offered his shoulder to lean on or his hand to hold and squeeze. 

It got immensely better when my mother finally arrived. 

“I’m so sorry I took so long! My meeting with the fundraiser at the country club across town took forever, and the traffic was awful!” She rambled on before enveloping me in a tight bear hug. “Oh, I missed you baby!”

“I missed you too, mom!” I nearly wheezed and gasped for air after finally pulling away from her grasp. 

She looked over to Miguel, her smile beaming as she shook his hand. “Miguel, I’m so happy you could join us. When Lisa told me you’d be tagging along, I was over the moon!”

“Of course.” Miguel smiled back at her with a warm gaze. “I wanted to provide moral support.”

To catch up and spend some mother-daughter time, Janet quickly took me out shopping at a nearby mall to pick out an outfit for tonight. We tried to look for something that screamed ‘confident daughter who won’t take no more shit from her step-father’. By we I mean me. 

In the end, I settled for a nice pair of matching black dress pants and jacket with a blue blouse and flats. Nothing too lavish, but I wanted to be professional and be a better person. If Jin was making progress like mom said he was, then I’d try to put in some effort for this dinner. 

When we returned, Grandma not only finished the kimchi with Miguel’s help, but she also roped him into helping prepare the rest of the buffet! She had to stop him twice from trying to sneak a piece of the pork belly and threatened him with no dessert if he didn’t comply. Miguel claims it was an exaggeration. 

“I only swiped 1 piece.” He claimed. 

“1 pork belly and 3 rice cakes!” Grandma Park corrected. 

After that was done, Jin had retired to his room, so Grandpa gave us a tour of their recently renovated backyard. It was a giant, beautiful garden with various assortment of flowers, a giant cherry blossom tree and a meditation corner. 

“It was Jin’s passion project these last few months.” he had explained, offering me a flower to smell.

I held it delicately in my hand, catching a whiff of the aroma. “They’re beautiful…” 

After the tour of the garden, we went back inside and I showed off the new outfit I got to Miguel, and he had me help him go through his entire gizmo inventory for the perfect outfit to A) make a good impression with my family and B) Not make it so obvious that he wanted to match with me. He was mostly opting for the latter. 

After passing the time and waiting a painstaking couple of hours and a shower to clean myself up and calm me down, it was dinner time. 

We all sat in the dining room, Miguel, myself and my mom on one side, followed by Grandpa, Jin, and Grandma on the other. We mostly ate in silence at first, making the occasional small talk. It helped that Grandma’s cooking was absolutely fantastic. I couldn’t remember the last time I drooled so much over a piece of pork, and the Tteokbokki was killer. 

Of course, good food isn’t enough to stop the inevitable. 

“Lisa, Janet showed us your performance back in New York.” Grandpa initiated the conversation, his eyes beaming with pride. “We are so proud of you.”

My heart fluttered with warmth as I smiled at him. “Thank you, grandpa.”

“Oh, yes, it was wonderful! The bright lights, the pretty colours! Very well choreographed. Everything seemed so lively!” Grandma Park praised before glancing over at Jin. “Jin watched it with us, he was very impressed.”

All eyes turned to Jin at that comment. He swallowed his food before pausing, our eyes meeting. 

“Remember, Jin?” Grandma Park pressed. 

“. . . You were exceptional.” He nodded firmly. 

I didn’t remember holding my breath until I sighed in relief, letting the nerves and tension ease out of me as we all resumed eating. 

Just. . . exceptional? 

“You’ve been keeping up with your practice.” Jin noted. 

“It was a little tricky at first, you know, restricted to bed rest and all, but I got by.” I replied. 

I don’t know why I worded it like I did, but after I spoke the words, the air around us suddenly became tense. 

“Why New York, if I may ask?” Jin went on, his eyes locked on to me. “There were plenty of well established teams back in Toronto.”

I would have stayed. But the memories, the scars… they ran too deep. “I needed a fresh start.” I shrugged my shoulders innocently. 

Jin’s gaze lowered to his plate, his fork picking at his food before his eyes narrowed up at me. “Korea could have been your fresh start if you stayed.”

“Jin!” Janet shushed him, her head whipping towards him. 

My heart dropped. 

The gloves were officially off. 

“Why didn’t you come to me the day before the show?” Jin pressed on, his eyes solely focused on me. “Instead you waited until the last possible second, right before your debut show. Did you want me to cause a scene and stop the performance altogether?” 

“I wasn’t saying I wanted you to stop our whole performance, I said that ‘I’ wanted out. The rest of my group could have performed just fine without me.” I stated, my stomach suddenly turning into knots. 

I didn’t mean for things to get so heated. I thought we’d wait until after dinner before getting into the nitty gritty and do family therapy. What sucked the most about this was I just lost my appetite for grandma’s killer Tteokbokki. 

“Even on our good days, you constantly criticized what I’d do, eat, dress!” I stressed, nearly flinging away a piece of pork. 

“I was trying to look out for you.” Jin responded in earnest. “As your popularity grew, all eyes were on you, Lisa, just waiting for you to let your guard down. That’s the dark side of this industry, I was trying to protect you without showing too much favoritism.”

Favouritism?! 

“By constantly making me feel like I wasn’t good enough?” The outburst slipped out before I could even think of the words. “By attacking me?!”

Miguel’s free hand slipped under the table, squeezing my thigh and holding me into my chair. He knew fully well that if this went on for any longer, I might jump out of my chair and leap right for him. His eyes were sharp as he glared towards Jin, like a panther sizing up his prey. If I wasn’t going to take the dive, he would.

“I acknowledge what I did was outlandish and absolutely awful, but I am still your father. I may not have been there when you were brought into this world and in your early years, but I watched you grow. I helped mold you into the capable woman you are now.”

Something snapped in me as I dropped my chopsticks onto my plate. “No. You molded me into the woman I was 2 years ago. Times have changed. I’m not the same, broken, fragile thing I was back then, and I never will be. I molded myself into this capable woman I am today. You had nothing to do with it.”

I shot up from my chair, tossing my napkin to my plate as Miguel’s hand fell from my lap. All eyes were on me, but I focused my attention solely on the pair I wanted to address. 

“I can acknowledge you’ve made progress in most aspects of your life and behavior, and I’m glad you have people that can help you. But, clearly, there’s still some work to be done about this–” I pointed a finger between the two of us, “-if it's even remotely salvageable. But that’s apparently not going to happen tonight.”

A chill crawled through the air, the room turning cold and suffocating as tears burned in my eyes, but I held strong to keep them at bay. I turned towards my grandparents, bowing my head respectfully. 

“Thank you for the lovely meal.” I leveled my head as I glanced around the table to look at my mother and Miguel. “Excuse me.”

My chair scraped against the floor as I backed away, stepping away from the dining room table and down the hall, before slipping outside into the backyard. 

**********

Miguel’s P.OV. 

After Lisa stormed off, Miguel had the urge to stand and go after her, to comfort her, but her mother beat him to it. She shot a disappointed glare towards her husband before excusing herself from the table. Grandma and Grandpa Park looked upon us in shocked silence, swearing softly in their native tongues. 

A million thoughts were running through Miguel’s head. 90% of them ended with Jin as a corpse. But that would leave a horrible impression with Lisa’s grandparents. They weren’t at fault for his behavior and they had both been lovely to them since their arrival.

“She came here because she believed, even with the smallest of chances, that you had changed.” Miguel’s eyes narrowed darkly towards Jin, his crimson eyes piercing into his very soul. “You just proved her wrong, and wasted her valuable time.”

There was a flicker in Jin’s eyes, but he didn’t move from his chair, his knuckles bone white as he held a death grip on his fork. 

“We’re here for another few days. You have until the hour before our flight to apologize to her, because if you don’t, I think I know Lisa well enough that she would never want to see or hear from you ever again.” Miguel growled lowly, his fists held firm at his sides to stop himself from completely losing his cool. 

Jin remained silent in his chair before slowly releasing his fork, the sound of the metal clattering softly against the plate as he leaned back in his chair. As if he was just now coming to terms with what had just happened. And then he spoke up. 

“I am glad she has someone like you to watch over her.” His voice was quiet, punctual. “It’s hard for her to go through discussions like this on her own.”

The tension seeped away from Miguel’s body as he took a breath, his fingers loosening. “I don’t care what you have to say about me.”

Miguel casted an apologetic look towards Grandma and Grandpa Park, thanking them for the meal before excusing himself from the table. His footsteps were heavy, but quick as he sauntered to the opposite end of the house to the giant sliding screen door. He stopped at the archway, a hand at the door as he watched Janet hold Lisa close in the bright spotlights of the yard as she cried into her shoulder.

He wanted nothing more than to take Lisa in his arms right there and then, but knew Lisa needed time. So he waited. 

“What do you want to do, honey?” Janet asked Lisa, hands on her hips as she put on her serious mom face.

When she put on that face, she meant business. A true mother’s intuition. 

Lisa took a breath and looked into her mother’s eyes and said “I don’t want to stay here tonight.”

Miguel took a deep breath, nostrils flaring as he gripped the doorway tightly before pushing off from the door and headed upstairs to pack their things. 

*********

Lisa’s P.O.V. 

It was a long drive. Of course the closest available hotel I could find that wasn’t booked on a Friday night was on the opposite side of the district. But so long as there was an available room with a bed where I could lay down and just pass out and forget tonight even happened, I’d be happy. I wanted to call a taxi, but grandma insisted Ja Hoon drive us out of concern for our safety. By our safety, she of course meant mine. 

Miguel convinced me to accept the offer, as she just wanted to make sure I’d be taken care of. The lights of the street lamps shined over our faces through the dark as Ja Hoon guided the car and pulled over in front of a small building. It looked modern enough, perhaps not a lavish hotel or anything like my grandparents house, but it would do for one night. 

We got out of the car and Ja Hoon helped us with our luggage. I offered him a polite, thankful smile with a curt bow of my head. “Thank you for driving us, Ja Hoon.”

“It was no problem, Miss Kendrick.” He bowed back. “If you require my services again, I’m a phone call away.”

He glanced over to say goodbye to Miguel when suddenly he froze, his eyes slowly going wide as if he were realizing something. 

“Ja Hoon? Are you okay?” I asked with a concerned look in my eye as Miguel placed a hand on my shoulder to keep me from stepping forward. 

“No, no, everything is fun- fine! I meant fine!” Ja Hoon spoke quickly, bowing again with more urgency before making a beeline for his car.  “Enjoy yourselves!”

The car started and he took off down the street, his back headlight blurring off in the distance. 

“That was. . . weird.” I glanced over towards Miguel with a raised brow. “Any idea what that was about?”

“No idea.” Miguel looked equally as confused as I was. 

“Whatever, it’s getting late, and I’m too tired to dwell on it.” I shook it off, surpassing a yawn that crawled its way up my throat as I grabbed my suitcase. “Let’s go inside.”

Miguel followed close behind me as we entered the lobby and greeted the receptionist with a warm smile. She checked us in, handing us both our keys.

“Unfortunately this room is booked for the morning so we can only accommodate you both during your time tonight.” She explained. 

Odd. Do they not normally take walkins?

“That’s alright, we’ll only be here one night, thank you.” I nodded in understanding, but at this point I was so tired I was simply pretending to get some sleep. 

“Enjoy your stay with us, and if you require any extra services, our room service is open all night.” She smiled, waving us towards the elevator. 

“Thank you.” Miguel nodded as he gently pulled me along as we both stepped into the elevator. 

The doors closed in front of us and for the first time since we left the house, I let out a deep sigh as I leaned against Miguel. “Tired?” He asked me as he wrapped an arm around my shoulders, pecking the top of my head. 

“Tired doesn’t even begin to describe how I’m feeling right now.” I groaned. 

Tonight was. . . something. A disaster? Maybe I wouldn’t go that far. But it blew my expectations out of the water in the worst way possible. I hadn’t raised my voice like that since the accident, and the look on his face. . . 

The elevator chime snapped me out of my train of thoughts as we arrived on our floor. Walking down the hall, I found our room number as I unlocked the door and opened it, stepping inside. I sighed in relief seeing a nice, clean room with a bed and bathroom. 

“Oh thank god, now I can sleep a little easier. . .” I cheered, nearly toppling onto my knees right there and then. 

“Don’t pass out on me yet, mi corazon.” Miguel snickered, ruffling my hair with his hand. “Actually unpack your things and get ready for bed first.” - my Sweetheart 

“Fine.” I huffed, lifting my suitcase onto the couch to unzip it. “But I call dibs on the better side of the bed.”

“Then I call dibs on the first shower.” Miguel smirked back at me, taking off his coat and putting it on the hanger. 

“Deal.” I caved, the idea of a shower sounding absolutely incredible too. 

Miguel made his way to the hotel bathroom as I opened my suitcase and started rummaging for my pajamas to set them aside on the bed before putting away the rest of my things. But as I approached the bed, I noticed something off about this bed. It seemed rather large, even for two people. Had the room I booked on a last ditch effort to get out of the house been a deluxe and I didn’t notice?

Was this even a king size bed?

A low whistle caught my ear as I heard Miguel speak up, “Lisa, what the shock is the size of this bathtub?” 

“What?” I turn and walk over to the bathroom, standing in the door to peer inside. My jaw nearly dropped to the floor as I looked at the giant size bathtub with molded seating and jets. “A bathtub? That looks like a jacuzzi to me!”

“I have never been more excited to take a bath in my life.” The balls of his feet bounced with an excited spring as Miguel immediately pulled his shirt off, motioning to his body and height. “This was why I switched to showers.”

“Well then you go on and enjoy yourself while I finish packing.” I chuckled at his enthusiasm, my cheeks a light shade of pink as my gaze trailed over his exposed chest before quickly averting my gaze back to his face. “You deserve a moment to yourself and relax after tonight.”

“That’s my line.” He teased before his expression softened, pointing to his gizmo. “If you want, since there's plenty of space, you can join me? I can have Lyla whip out swimsuits for us to help you feel comfortable.”

My heart fluttered at the gesture, a soft smile on my face. He wasn’t forcing me into anything I wasn’t ready for, but wanted to still help me find ways for me to relax. “That’s really sweet of you, Miguel, but I’ll be okay for tonight. Just don’t use all the hot water.”

“Yes ma’am.” he gave me a salute, waiting for me to leave before starting the water and stripping off the rest of his clothes. 

As I was leaving, I couldn’t help but notice that the shower was also a generous size as well. Was it some sort of theme in this hotel? To make us feel smaller or shrunk like in ‘Honey, I Shrunk The Kids’? Cause this was one weird way of showing it. 

I stepped back into the bedroom, noticing a small bowl of red cherry candies on the side table. I popped one into my mouth before I resumed unpacking. I took a handful of clothes, humming the tone of a song to help soothe me as I reached for a drawer on the dresser. I pulled it open and before I could put my clothes in, I recoiled and dropped my clothes. 

I gasped, but no scream came out of me as I covered my hands with my mouth. I tiptoed back to the open drawer and peeked inside. Surely my mind was playing tricks on me. This couldn’t have been the hotel’s fault. Did the previous tenants of this hotel room leave these behind?

A generous helping of strawberry flavoured condoms was on one side, floral pattern lace and lingerie on the other in three different colours. 

My hands were trembling as I reached out and picked up one of the condom wrappers. When my hand made physical contact with it, my heart skipped a beat, a wave of anxiety washing over me before I threw it back and slammed the drawer shut. 

There’s no way. There’s absolutely no way. 

I opened another drawer and stared in shock. An assortment of vibraters and other ‘toys’ was inside. I checked all of them. Every single drawer had something inside, all but one. I didn’t feel comfortable putting my clothes in that drawer after what I saw. 

Okay, there were way too many of these things for the scenario to be that they were left behind. But why would the hotel have all of this stuff–!

Wait a shocking minute. 

I noticed a remote control on top of the dresser. I reached for it, turning on the TV. A streaming service came on screen. At a glance, it seemed normal enough until I cycled through their selection. Everything was an R or X rated adult film. My skin turned pale as I dropped the remote and it clattered to the floor. There was another remote embedded on the side of the headrest of the bed with over a dozen buttons, and I don’t know how I didn’t notice this until now; There were no windows. 

“Miguel!” My voice cracked as I called for him, panic rushing through me as I suddenly felt light headed. 

“Lisa?” His voice responded, followed by splashing and the pitter patter of his feet against the cool tile floor of the bathroom. He emerged in the bedroom, hair damp and body soaking wet as he hastily tied a towel around his waist. “What’s wrong, what happened?” He brandished his fangs and claws, scanning the room for signs of danger.

My heart panged at how he looked, realizing he literally flung himself out of the middle of the bath because he heard me call for help. I felt awful for disturbing him at this moment and silently vowed I’d make it up to him later with all the fancy soap and fancy shampoos he wanted, heck even a bath bomb or two. 

“I made a mistake!” I blurted out, the first set of words coming to me as I scrambled to steady myself. 

“Hey, hey, hey, breathe,” He commanded, stepping forward as he recoiled his claws before placing his hands on my shoulders, the water staining my shirt but I didn’t care too much right now. “Just breathe.”

He waited for me to take a couple deep breaths in and out before speaking again. 

“What mistake? Was it dinner?” He asked. 

“No, it’s this room!” I clarified, my voice tense with a slight, anxious whine to it. “I booked us the wrong room.”

“What are you talking about, Lisa?” He asked me, trying to get a read on me but I could tell by the look on his face he was struggling. 

The words were right there on the tip of my tongue, but for the life of me I couldn’t get them out. All I could do at the moment was lower my head in either shame or cowardness, perhaps both, as I pointed to the TV. 

Miguel glanced over at the screen, his eyes trailing over the text. His eyes widened as his hands moved away from my shoulders, one of his hands coming to his towel to hold it in place. He turned back to look at me. 

“And the dresser. . .” I muttered softly. 

Noticing that some of my clothes were littered on the floor, he was about to speak up until his voice trailed off once he opened the drawer containing the condoms and lingerie, then the same one with the sex toys. He didn’t need to open the others to know where this was going. He did a once over around the room before his eyes met mine, finally understanding the source of my stress. “Lisa…?”

I sucked in one more deep breath before I blurted out the words. “I accidentally booked us a room in a love hotel!”

As if this night couldn’t get any worse. 

*******

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[the-ellia-west]

6 notes is good enough - TCOT Synopsis

Kasi is an Outlander. That means she lives outside of any city, and her life is centered more around work than comfort. So when she's invited to a party, she is expectedly suspicious. But for her parents who were invited to a more important event, this is an opportunity they cannot lose. With her twin brother Xhaazi stuck at home with an illness he refuses to acknowledge, Kasi knows she has to go without the support of the family she has relied on her entire life. When she arrives, she is relieved to find she is not entirely alone. Her best friend Chrin has also been invited to this strange party. But soon after the two begin to enjoy this event usually reserved for the higher class, a mysterious figure drops onto the scene. No one recognizes the man until he pulls out a weapon many recognize. 

By that point, only Kasi and Chrin are left in the dark until someone shouts the name they've only read about in the papers. A murderer. Adllsais. After that, chaos ensues in several other freak accidents involving all three outlanders which drives them far away from their home and eventually out into the wild world they've never had the chance to explore, exposing them to dangers they don't have the resources to defeat. So the three are grateful when they find a man who calls himself River who seems to be willing to help them. But things just seem to get worse as he abandons them on a beach with minimal supplies and a message warning them not to return home. So, with nowhere else to go, the three decide to try and find a city. But on their way, they run into two runaway creatures of a species which have adopted the name of Shades. The two Shades, Sokuna and her young Daughter Mouse, ask our three heroes if they would like to help them start a rebellion. Rather done with being pushed around and deciding to heed River's strange warning, they agree to help and make friends with the two shades, gaining protection while also digging themselves deeper into their own graves. 

But where there are friends, there are also enemies. Those enemies take the form of a strange army, which Sokuna and Mouse hate so much, and a cursed Assassin bound to the army by a promise. Desperate to be free of the curse that has tortured him for the past fifteen years, Marril ends up willing to do nearly everything to regain his freedom, which sets him on a path to kill an important Noblewoman. While on the other side of the villainous coin, we have three members of the army. The second in command Tias who is cruel and cold, Tias' short-time partner Kila who will work herself to death to prove a point, and Viasaki who is plagued by thousands of voices who urge him to surrender control of his mind to some mysterious entity.

While the world crumbles around them, our beloved heroes must learn to see the flaws in their shattered home. They will travel far from home and some will even forget what they came for. On their journey to find the truth every single one of them will  fight not only to save themselves but also their broken world, and they will all discover threats brewing beneath the surface which hold secrets that could topple nations.

[Learn more about TCOT (The Cursed One's Throne) in my Profile/Blog]

[dottores-harness]

Blood Colored

Genre: Smut

Ship: DottoLumi

Warnings: Smut, Wax play, Light bondage (Her hands are tied)

Word Count: 2827

Summary: Dottore tries a little experiment in wax play with his Lumine.

====================

Lumine wiggles her wrists only to come to the same conclusion she had already come to. The bindings were tight; inescapable. Currently, both of her arms were stretched above her head and bound to the headboard. Her bare body shone in the orange and yellow light cast by the fireplace. She raises her head to confirm she is still by herself. Dottore had left shortly after binding her at least an hour prior. She is going to lose her mind from the suspense alone.

She still isn’t sure how she got herself into this mess. Dottore had captured her in the Hadramaveth desert shortly after they had managed to free Nahida from the Akademiya’s clutches. Lumine and Paimon had got separated in a nasty sandstorm in the process of tracking a group of Treasure Hoarders. The Doctor had found and personally blindsided her, capturing her almost effortlessly. He had kept her locked up here in his lab ever since.

In her time here, she had discovered that Dottore was surprisingly insatiable. Had you asked her what she thought of Dottore’s sexual habits in the past, she might have said he was celibate. Living only for his Science and Technology. And live for it he did…The man loved his experiments, and that extended to their relationship. She honestly still didn’t know what they were to each other. Was she still just another of his test subjects? He spent more time with her than the others, she reasoned. 

‘Am I more?’ 

Lumine starts as the door on the left creaks open and Dottore saunters into the room carrying two red pillar candles. He approaches the Traveler and stops once he reaches the nightstand. The man lights each candle with a small book of matches before setting them on the table.

“I hope I didn’t keep you waiting too long, Darling.”

“I know you did it on purpose. I’m not stupid.”

“Oh? And why would I do that?”

“Because you’re a sadistic bastard. You have kept me locked up here for months!”

“I know. And you will remain mine until you've served your purpose.”

“Until I’ve served my purpose. …What happens then?”

“I am unsure. That should be left to the judgment of the hypothetical me confronted with that particular outcome.”

Lumine scoffed “I’m never going to stop trying to escape.”

“Given enough time, I believe you will. I have been studying you closely ever since your arrival, and I see how easily you succumb to me.” He smirked and carded his fingers through her hair.

Lumine grits her teeth and jerks her head away from him. She hates to admit it, but he is right. There is just something about this man in particular that she finds incredibly difficult to resist. ...and it both disgusts and fills her with excitement. She should not feel this way…but yet...she does. 

“It's okay my dear. I know you hate me but…you're just too much fun to pass up. Besides, you are quite valuable and I have learned quite a bit studying you thus far.”

She did hate him. Right? She should. This line of conversation was making her uncomfortable. Lumine turned her head away so she didn’t have to look at him and pulled halfheartedly on her restraints. Changing the subject, she speaks up. 

“My shoulders hurt.” 

“Do they? I promise you will forget about it very soon.” The Harbinger chuckles flashing his sharp teeth at the Traveler.

“What are you going to do?” 

“You will see. Darling…look at me.”

Slowly she does as the man asks. As soon as the woman’s eyes are on him, he plucks the mask from his face. Lumine always makes the same expression, and he loves seeing it. Dottore is no fool. He knows he is a handsome man, even with the scars crisscrossing his body. It’s just not something he generally puts a lot of pride into, preferring feats of the mind. …but seeing her reaction was always worth it. Her lips would pout just so. A light blush would dust her cheeks and the pupils of those golden eyes dilated. He chuckles darkly as he begins to undress. With each piece of clothing removed, he can swear her eyes dilate further. It is so adorable. 

Lumine licks her lips as her eyes slide down his naked body. It is really unfair how fit he is. The man spent almost all of his time in a lab but his body is lean and well-toned. She wonders how he keeps any kind of muscle mass. After what feels like an eternity to her, Dottore crawls onto the bed and over to her prone body.

“Don't worry. I'll take care of everything.” The man begins to kiss her collarbone, trailing kisses up her neck and nibbling on her earlobe. “Soon you won't be able to remember any of this unpleasantness. You'll just remember how good we felt together.”

Lumine sighed and tilted her head to the side to give him better access. The Harbinger is skilled in so many ways; this is just another one. He sensually licks back down her neck passing her collarbone and stopping at her breasts. The man takes them in his large hands and squeezes the flesh together. Chuckling, he presses his face between them and inhales deeply, enjoying the smell of her. 

“You're so beautiful, my Darling. Your skin is like honey and you smell divine. I love this scent...so warm and inviting.”

Lumine can feel the smile on his lips as he presses them to her skin and circles her right nipple with his tongue sucking it into his mouth. He begins to leisurely suck on the buds and roll them between his teeth, giving equal attention to both. The woman flinches slightly and gasps at the sensations he is inflicting her with. Dottore’s teeth are sharp. He is never truly gentle, but she finds that she loves it this way. She doesn’t hate the sensation. It is both painful and beautifully stimulating. The Traveler shivers with each swipe of his tongue against her skin and moans as he plays with her. 

Suddenly, he moves away from her breasts and looks down at her with an evil grin. “Let's get you nice and warmed up.”

The man leans toward the table and snatches up one of the candles. Lumine’s eyes widen.

“You asked what we are going to do. We are going to test the limits of your sensitivity with a new kind of stimulation. Wax.”

“Dottore, I…” 

“Shhh. You’ll love it.” And with that, he tilted the candle just enough to allow the heated wax to pour from the tip and fall.

She looks down her body at the man as he tilted the candle. As it splashes against her skin, she winces and watches as the skin blooms pink from the heat. It is hot but, not unbearable. The wax creates a sort of itching fuzzy sensation across her skin and awakens feelings in her she hasn't realized she possessed. It is a new, but not unwelcome feeling. Lumine gasps as more wax spills from the candle and drips onto her sternum. Slowly it trails down her stomach pooling under her belly button and creating a puddle before it begins to harden.

“How does it feel?”

“It’s…different. But not…bad…”

The Harbinger smirks at her response. “...and what a beautiful blood color.” The man spills more wax across her stomach and she shivers in anticipation of what is to come. 

Lumine wiggles underneath him and yanks on her hands trying to get free so she can touch him. She wants to feel his skin too but he simply grins at her efforts. The man likes keeping her bound while they play. Getting this man to surrender control was like pulling teeth. The Traveler growls in frustration and thrashes harder.

“You're quite a handful, aren't you? But you're such a delightfully stubborn little girl. …I think I'll keep you for myself after all.”

His ruby eyes twinkle as he stares at her, waiting for her response. When she doesn't say anything, he reaches around and pulls her legs apart, settling himself between them. He drags her lower half into his lap, leaving her back still resting against the bed. With one hand he holds the candle close to her chest and drips wax directly onto her left nipple, causing it to grow hard and even more sensitive. With the other hand, he pinches her other nipple and watches her writhe beneath him. Lumine’s breathing quickens and she whimpers loudly. 

“It feels so good Dottore. Please...I….” She is unsure exactly what she wants. 

Dottore smirks at her words and gives her a light kiss on the lips, nipping them as he pulls away. “Did you forget your words?”

Lumine groans and turns her head to the side once more closing her eyes. “I…just…more please.”

“Of course my dear.” She can hear the laughter in his voice.

Rather than see the smug look on his face, Lumine keeps her eyes closed and just allows the sensations to wash over her. Heat blooms across her collarbone and trails down to her breasts where he takes extra care to stimulate both nipples. She bit her lip. The woman can feel herself getting wet as he covers her skin in more and more wax. The heat moves from her breasts to her sternum and trails lower and lower. 

Suddenly she can feel his free hand as he parts her and moments later a searing delicious heat blooms across her clit. Lumine can’t help it, her eyes fly open and she cries out in response. 

The Doctor laughs and leans down to give her another kiss. As he does, he pours more wax onto her pussy, causing it to swell from the stimulation. When he breaks off the kiss, he winks at her. The man leans back once more and slides a finger inside her, slowly beginning to thrust in and out. As he continues to tease her with the candle, her thoughts begin to fade.

“You're quite wet my dear. It seems you’re enjoying our little game.”

All of the stimulation is beginning to get to her and she moans as he slips a second finger into her cavern. The drag of his fingers inside of her and the blooming heat on her skin is already driving her up the wall. She looks down at herself and gasps at the view. Her skin is covered in vibrant splashes of red. If she didn’t already know better, she would think it was blood. 

As he continues to tease her, she lets her head fall back on the pillow. She can feel that coil deep inside of her winding up. Lumine allows a long sigh to escape her lips. 

‘Not long now.’ 

His fingers move expertly, thrusting and curling into the perfect spots. The man works her, carefully stoking her flames higher. He knows her body better than she does at this point. Dottore has spent so much time studying her. Leaning to the side, he places the still-burning candle on the nightstand. Now with his hand free he moves it back and begins to circle her clit with his thumb. Wax cracks and falls away as he teases her. 

Lumine is on cloud nine by this point. And she thrusts her hips up to meet his hands, chasing after her orgasm. She squeezes her eyes shut and grits her teeth. It is coming, she can feel it. Gasping she gyrates her hips in his lap.

Abruptly his hands leave her and she jerks violently in shock. “No! Dottore, Why?”

“Oh Darling, you know better than that.”

A sob escapes her lips. Yes, she did know. She should have expected it.

The man sits on his knees and lifts her lower half to position her so he could better enter her. Laughing, he takes his dick in his left hand and teases her entrance. Using his right thumb he makes sure to stimulate her clit just enough to keep her on the precipice. He won’t let her fall until he is ready. And he just sits like that. This slow torture goes on for what feels like an eternity to Lumine. In her current stupor, she honestly isn’t sure how long it lasted. But she does know it was too long. She often wonders how he has the will to do this. The man does this every time.

Finally, he relents and adjusts her hips before lining up with her entrance.

“Yes…!” Lumine hisses as he begins to sink into her inch by inch. She tries to thrust up to meet him but his hands are like iron holding her steady. Hearing her low hiss, the man shoots her a sharp-toothed smirk as he slides to his base. He stills to allow her some time to adjust to his size.

This is one of his few mercies. With their size differences, he can just about rip her in half. Dottore is surprisingly good at taking care of his toys. The ones he wanted to keep around anyway. 

As Lumine begins to relax, the Harbinger starts to thrust at a brisk pace. The man looms over her tiny frame. With each thrust, her body jars, and her breasts bounce. Moaning, he leans in and begins to nibble and lick the skin at the base of her neck. 

The woman tilts her head to give him more access and he gladly takes it. Raking his teeth along her carotid before biting down on the skin just below her right ear. It is one of his favorite spots to mark her. It is very visible and impossible to hide with her clothes. Even tying her scarf further up her neck refused to hide it completely. Thus, everyone in the lab knew who she belonged to and walked on eggshells around her. She hates the display but It did give her a modicum of privacy, which she appreciates.

She can feel the blood trickling down her neck from the wound as he begins to lap it up. The air is cool against the trails of saliva on her skin. It is almost shocking in comparison to the heat her body radiates. His tongue and teeth continue to glide across her soft skin. He stops occasionally to leave bright love bites all along her collar, shoulders, and breasts. The more he marks her, the happier he seems to be. 

Blue hair is stuck to the sweat of his neck and face and his earring swings as he moves. Dottore begins to pick up the pace pounding into her brutally. Broken moans are forced from her throat with each powerful thrust. The room is filled with the sounds of sex. 

Lumine knows she won’t be able to walk in the morning. She begins to quake from all of the stimulation. The coil inside has wound so tight now…and her vision is fading again. The world around her is a blur of orange, yellow, and blue light. Tears prick at the corners of her eyes, threatening to fall with each jar of her body. She can feel him, every inch of him surrounding her and inside of her. It is overwhelming. Before too much longer, she feels the first twitches of his dick, indicating he is close. Once more, she tries to thrust to meet him but he holds her still, denying her.

“Dottore!”

“Shhhh. Just take it.”

She has no choice. The man continues to pound her into the mattress. Waves of pleasure crash over her in ever-increasing frequency. The woman squeezes her eyes shut. Her vision has long since tunneled. All she can see is the golden glow of his skin and that swinging blue light.

The man shifts, laying Lumine completely on the mattress before placing his hands on either side of her as he continues to thrust at a new angle. She arches into him. It is to much.

“A-Ah. D-Dottore, I can’t…I…” 

The coil snaps and her world explodes. White blooms behind her eyelids and a powerful wave of pleasure crashed over her forcing a sob of bliss from her lips. The Harbinger above her freezes as his own orgasm arrives. He thrusts as deep as he can and a deep guttural moan rips from his throat. She can feel the heat from his seed painting her insides and it pushes her over the edge again. Crying out, she yanks on her restraints so hard that the headboard cracks. The man collapses on top of her with a sigh and just lays there, spent.

After a moment, Lumine shifts uncomfortably. The man is heavy.

Sensing her distress, the Harbinger rolls off of her and onto his back by her side. 

“I knew you would love it.”

“Screw you.”

“Oh trust me, there is more to come. Both candles still burn.”

Lumine groans. “My shoulders still hurt.”

[angelshizuka]

Frozen 3 Story idea. “Frozen 3: 22 years later” is set 22 years after the 1st movie. Not long after Frozen 2, Elsa suffered what happens to all 5th spirits by getting bound to Ahtohallan with a curse. The spirits cursed her(the spirits see it as a bit of a blessing), which caused her to get stranded on the island of Ahtohallan, and to start to forget about her life prior to having accepted the role of 5th spirit. It also caused her to be unable to physically age, her skin to turn blue and her hair to turn black.

Elsa’s sister Anna has two 18-year-old daughters, Gerda and Karen. Gerda is fascinated by the story of when Anna saved Elsa during the eternal winter(aka the events of Frozen 1) and wants to write a very unbiased account of what happened. She likes collecting items like newspaper clippings that relate to the events of Frozen 1. She wants to hear Hans side of the story, but she can’t because Hans disappeared not long after the events of Frozen. Karen, on the other hand, is fascinated by the story of how Elsa saved Arendelle from being flooded(aka the events of Frozen 2). Only Gerda, not Karen, has seen her Aunt, and that’s because Gerda has ice powers which allow her to endure the coldness of Ahtohallan, but she doesn't have the power to create life like Elsa does. She’s seen Elsa once and she barely survived that time because Ahtohallan was so cold even for her, which caused her family much trauma. She’s the main character of Frozen 3, and she spends most of the movie looking for Maui's fishhook in order to get the spirits to free her Aunt from both the curse and her role as the 5th spirit. Gerda learned some things about the fishhook from Bulda, including that in order to grant ETERNITY to Elsa she must feed the 4 fish using the fishhook. The pieces of the fishhook spell ETERNITY. The fishhook magically enables immaterial spirits to gain the power of human speech. Once the 4 spirits possess this power, they will no longer have any need for a 5th spirit and Elsa will be free. But Gerda needs to find the fishhook quickly otherwise Elsa will soon turn into an ice statue before shattering into shards and becoming part of Ahtohallan like the other 5th Spirits.

Gerda disobeys her mother by sneaking away to search for the fishhook. The magic of the fishhook can only be used once every 100 years. Anna initially tries to stop Gerda from leaving, but she relents when Gerda reminds her of when she herself left to save Elsa. While sailing, her ship is attacked by undead sailors lead by Euron. Euron slaughters her crew and consumes their blood, but Gerda uses her powers to escape and flee to Weselton. Euron realizes that Gerda is looking for the fishhook when he finds Gerda’s notebook. Meanwhile, Captain Hans runs out of grog to give to his crew and he fears a mutiny when he hears his crew grumbling about it. In Weselton, Gerda foils Captain Hans from stealing from a brewery using her ice powers, but instead of thanking her, the people of Weselton accuse her of being a witch and lock her up with Hans. The two of them are about to be publicly executed when Hans' nephew Kai uses fireworks to distract the guards and rescues them with the help of the other members of Hans' pirate crew, but one of the members of the crew knocks Gerda out from behind her. At first Hans contemplates using Gerda as a hostage, but she persuades Hans to help her find the fishhook after she promises she will provide Kai with a comfortable life in Arendelle if he helps her. Gerda comes aboard his pirate ship “The Throwaway” in order to find the island where the fishhook is hidden. The Throwaway was once a slave ship called The Dark One.

Shortly after Frozen, Hans and his brother Lars worked as privateers on a ship run by slaves. Hans led a mutiny on the slave ship and became a pirate, before fleeing to Neverland(a place where nobody ages) for a time, and that’s why he hasn’t aged much in Frozen 3. Hans has a “bastard” nephew with him called Kai. Kai is the son of Prince Lars, and he was a slave on a slave ship until Hans led the mutiny. Hans was ordered to whip Kai to death, and Hans reluctantly agreed to that order despite Lars’ protests. Hans whipped Kai 12 times before he threw down his whip and instigated the mutiny. Euron fires a cannonball at Hans from a nearby ship, but Lars dives in front of Hans and is struck instead. Before Lars dies, he makes Hans promise to take care of Kai so that Kai may become a better man than either of them. Kai and Gerda fall in love with each other over the course of the movie. Gerda first asks Hans to sail to her ship to find her journal, which Hans is very reluctant to do so because that ship had just been attacked, but he relents when Gerda promises him that no one will get hurt.

The main villain of Frozen 3 is Euron, Hans’ father and former King of the Southern Isles and the person Hans fears the most because he’s responsible for Lars’ death. Prince Caleb,1st born son of Euron is one of the villains serving under Euron, and Caleb is one of the people Hans fears. Caleb wants his curse to be broken so he can return to his wife and children. Euron captains his own ship and has a bag that's bigger on the inside. It's filled with things like magic carpets, magic beans, and poisoned apples. Shortly after Frozen, when Hans stole a slave ship, Euron sailed after him. Hans tricked Euron into crashing his ship into rocks situated right off the coast of the cursed Island of Shattered Shards. Euron and his crew get cursed by the island into becoming undead beings who need fresh human blood to survive. Euron lost everything including his authority over the Southern Isles because of what Hans did and he gets filled with an intense rage. Euron ends up going after the fishhook in order to use its power to curse the Southern Isles army into becoming undead warriors, but he deceives his crew into thinking he wants it in order to undo their curses. His crew, led by a furious Caleb, turn against him and grab hold of him when they find out the truth, and they sacrifice themselves to destroy Euron once and for all, but not before Euron stabs Hans with a poisoned blade. Gerda and the rest of her crew escape with the fishhook on a small rowboat, but they have no ship because their pirate ship has been sunk. Kai wants Hans to use the magic of the fishhook to save himself, but Hans chooses not to because he thinks the magic needs to be used to save Elsa because Elsa's suffering is greater. Kristoff plays the role of an antagonist for most of the movie. He doesn’t approve of people talking about Elsa because it brings back sad memories. By the time of Frozen 3, he’s lost all hope of Elsa ever coming back and is determined to stop Gerda from wasting her time looking for the fishhook. He doesn’t approve of Anna allowing Gerda to leave Arendelle, so he goes after her on a small ship. Kristoff saves Gerda and the others after he sees them on the rowboat. Gerda persuades him to heal Hans using troll medicine. Gerda tells Kristoff that she needs to get to Ahtohallan and bring the fishhook with her as fast as she can, but Kristoff says it’s too dangerous because she nearly got killed the last time she went to Ahtohallan. But he reluctantly changes his mind when Hans remarks that no one, including Hans himself, can stop Gerda from doing whatever it takes to save her aunt. 

After Hans is healed, Gerda runs across the sea to get to Ahtohallan with the fishhook in an attempt to find Elsa before it's too late, unaware that she is being followed by Euron, who survived when his crewmembers attacked him. When she enters Ahtohallan, he follows her into the glacier. When she finds Elsa, she finds out that Elsa’s almost completely frozen. She manages to call the spirits towards her, but they don’t uncurse Elsa because they’re unable to absorb the fishhook’s magic. Gerda is about to leave Ahtohallan when she figures out what Bulda meant. Gerda must break the fishhook so the spirits can fully absorb its magic. Euron attempts to stop Gerda from doing this, saying that she’s stupid to give the fishhook’s magic to the spirits instead of taking it for herself, and that with all that power she can secure everything else. Gerda is almost persuaded by Euron, but she still breaks the fishhook. Furiously, Euron attacks Gerda and he even overpowers her. He’s about to break her neck when Elsa thaws and destroys Euron once and for all with the help of the 4 spirits. Suddenly, Ahtohallan begins to shake and slowly sink into the sea because the 4 spirits no longer need a 5th spirit now that they have what they desire, which means no human being need ever enter Ahtohallan again. Elsa and Gerda struggle to escape. Hans sees Ahtohallan sinking and sails towards it. Later, Anna looks out the window of her castle and sees one of her royal ships. Hans gets off the ship and he gets tied up by her guards just as he’s about to speak. He’s about to be thrown into the dungeons when Elsa, Kristoff, and Gerda appear. Hans gets forgiven for his past crimes after helping bring Elsa home and he settles down in Arendelle with Kai, taking a job as a servant in Arendelle castle. Elsa retires from the role of 5th Spirit and keeps her powers. Sitron, who is Hans’ mare, is also in the movie, and she helps save Hans in Weselton. Kai starts shipping Hans and Elsa the moment he sees them. Hans finds this a bit creepy.

Also, scenes like the charade scene are referenced in the movie. Hans hears from Gerda that Elsa said he's an "unredeemable monster" and he's somewhat sad because he'd prefer the term "scoundrel". The snowball scene in Frozen Fever is also referenced. Hans thought the snowball was the result of his brothers trying to gaslight him into thinking Elsa was trying to kill him.

I'm just gonna be honest here...

I gave up reading all this after a few paragraphs. I find reading long things hard enough as it is (ADHD and visual impairement be like that) and I really wasn't vibing with this.

You already lost me at "set 22 years after the 1st movie" (a time skip that big just wouldn't make any sense) and you definitely weren't getting me back with "[Gerda's] the main character of Frozen 3" (Elsa being the main character in F2 was already bad enough, just give me back Anna who's her own person and not just "Elsa's sister") and when you mentioned Maui's hook I just stopped reading all together (can people please learn the difference between easter eggs and actual crossovers...)

Also, Anna having kids with ice powers is literally one of my most hated ideas for any future Frozen content, and that's saying a lot, because there are so many ideas I hate. For the love of god, not everything Anna does (or makes in this case) has to relate back to Elsa and her powers!?

As someone who already hates F2 because of how fanfic-y it feels with how much they changed the entire vibe of the Frozen universe and how much they retconned everything the original movie stood for, this just takes it to a whole other level and basically garuantees I'll hate F3.

I'm sorry for being so negative, but I saw you sent this to countless other blogs, so I'm sure you've gotten some positive reactions, I just unfortunately can't give you one.

[isekaicore]

Frozen 3 Story idea. “Frozen 3: 22 years later” is set 22 years after the 1st movie. Not long after Frozen 2, Elsa suffered what happens to all 5th spirits by getting bound to Ahtohallan with a curse. The spirits cursed her(the spirits see it as a bit of a blessing), which caused her to get stranded on the island of Ahtohallan, and to start to forget about her life prior to having accepted the role of 5th spirit. It also caused her to be unable to physically age, her skin to turn blue and her hair to turn black.

Elsa’s sister Anna has two 18-year-old daughters, Gerda and Karen. Gerda is fascinated by the story of when Anna saved Elsa during the eternal winter(aka the events of Frozen 1) and wants to write a very unbiased account of what happened. She likes collecting items like newspaper clippings that relate to the events of Frozen 1. She wants to hear Hans side of the story, but she can’t because Hans disappeared not long after the events of Frozen. Karen, on the other hand, is fascinated by the story of how Elsa saved Arendelle from being flooded(aka the events of Frozen 2). Only Gerda, not Karen, has seen her Aunt, and that’s because Gerda has ice powers which allow her to endure the coldness of Ahtohallan, but she doesn't have the power to create life like Elsa does. She’s seen Elsa once and she barely survived that time because Ahtohallan was so cold even for her, which caused her family much trauma. She’s the main character of Frozen 3, and she spends most of the movie looking for Maui's fishhook in order to get the spirits to free her Aunt from both the curse and her role as the 5th spirit. Gerda learned some things about the fishhook from Bulda, including that in order to grant ETERNITY to Elsa she must feed the 4 fish using the fishhook. The pieces of the fishhook spell ETERNITY. The fishhook magically enables immaterial spirits to gain the power of human speech. Once the 4 spirits possess this power, they will no longer have any need for a 5th spirit and Elsa will be free. But Gerda needs to find the fishhook quickly otherwise Elsa will soon turn into an ice statue before shattering into shards and becoming part of Ahtohallan like the other 5th Spirits.

Gerda disobeys her mother by sneaking away to search for the fishhook. The magic of the fishhook can only be used once every 100 years. Anna initially tries to stop Gerda from leaving, but she relents when Gerda reminds her of when she herself left to save Elsa. While sailing, her ship is attacked by undead sailors lead by Euron. Euron slaughters her crew and consumes their blood, but Gerda uses her powers to escape and flee to Weselton. Euron realizes that Gerda is looking for the fishhook when he finds Gerda’s notebook. Meanwhile, Captain Hans runs out of grog to give to his crew and he fears a mutiny when he hears his crew grumbling about it. In Weselton, Gerda foils Captain Hans from stealing from a brewery using her ice powers, but instead of thanking her, the people of Weselton accuse her of being a witch and lock her up with Hans. The two of them are about to be publicly executed when Hans' nephew Kai uses fireworks to distract the guards and rescues them with the help of the other members of Hans' pirate crew, but one of the members of the crew knocks Gerda out from behind her. At first Hans contemplates using Gerda as a hostage, but she persuades Hans to help her find the fishhook after she promises she will provide Kai with a comfortable life in Arendelle if he helps her. Gerda comes aboard his pirate ship “The Throwaway” in order to find the island where the fishhook is hidden. The Throwaway was once a slave ship called The Dark One.

Shortly after Frozen, Hans and his brother Lars worked as privateers on a ship run by slaves. Hans led a mutiny on the slave ship and became a pirate, before fleeing to Neverland(a place where nobody ages) for a time, and that’s why he hasn’t aged much in Frozen 3. Hans has a “bastard” nephew with him called Kai. Kai is the son of Prince Lars, and he was a slave on a slave ship until Hans led the mutiny. Hans was ordered to whip Kai to death, and Hans reluctantly agreed to that order despite Lars’ protests. Hans whipped Kai 12 times before he threw down his whip and instigated the mutiny. Euron fires a cannonball at Hans from a nearby ship, but Lars dives in front of Hans and is struck instead. Before Lars dies, he makes Hans promise to take care of Kai so that Kai may become a better man than either of them. Kai and Gerda fall in love with each other over the course of the movie. Gerda first asks Hans to sail to her ship to find her journal, which Hans is very reluctant to do so because that ship had just been attacked, but he relents when Gerda promises him that no one will get hurt.

The main villain of Frozen 3 is Euron, Hans’ father and former King of the Southern Isles and the person Hans fears the most because he’s responsible for Lars’ death. Prince Caleb,1st born son of Euron is one of the villains serving under Euron, and Caleb is one of the people Hans fears. Caleb wants his curse to be broken so he can return to his wife and children. Euron captains his own ship and has a bag that's bigger on the inside. It's filled with things like magic carpets, magic beans, and poisoned apples. Shortly after Frozen, when Hans stole a slave ship, Euron sailed after him. Hans tricked Euron into crashing his ship into rocks situated right off the coast of the cursed Island of Shattered Shards. Euron and his crew get cursed by the island into becoming undead beings who need fresh human blood to survive. Euron lost everything including his authority over the Southern Isles because of what Hans did and he gets filled with an intense rage. Euron ends up going after the fishhook in order to use its power to curse the Southern Isles army into becoming undead warriors, but he deceives his crew into thinking he wants it in order to undo their curses. His crew, led by a furious Caleb, turn against him and grab hold of him when they find out the truth, and they sacrifice themselves to destroy Euron once and for all, but not before Euron stabs Hans with a poisoned blade. Gerda and the rest of her crew escape with the fishhook on a small rowboat, but they have no ship because their pirate ship has been sunk. Kai wants Hans to use the magic of the fishhook to save himself, but Hans chooses not to because he thinks the magic needs to be used to save Elsa because Elsa's suffering is greater. Kristoff plays the role of an antagonist for most of the movie. He doesn’t approve of people talking about Elsa because it brings back sad memories. By the time of Frozen 3, he’s lost all hope of Elsa ever coming back and is determined to stop Gerda from wasting her time looking for the fishhook. He doesn’t approve of Anna allowing Gerda to leave Arendelle, so he goes after her on a small ship. Kristoff saves Gerda and the others after he sees them on the rowboat. Gerda persuades him to heal Hans using troll medicine. Gerda tells Kristoff that she needs to get to Ahtohallan and bring the fishhook with her as fast as she can, but Kristoff says it’s too dangerous because she nearly got killed the last time she went to Ahtohallan. But he reluctantly changes his mind when Hans remarks that no one, including Hans himself, can stop Gerda from doing whatever it takes to save her aunt. 

After Hans is healed, Gerda runs across the sea to get to Ahtohallan with the fishhook in an attempt to find Elsa before it's too late, unaware that she is being followed by Euron, who survived when his crewmembers attacked him. When she enters Ahtohallan, he follows her into the glacier. When she finds Elsa, she finds out that Elsa’s almost completely frozen. She manages to call the spirits towards her, but they don’t uncurse Elsa because they’re unable to absorb the fishhook’s magic. Gerda is about to leave Ahtohallan when she figures out what Bulda meant. Gerda must break the fishhook so the spirits can fully absorb its magic. Euron attempts to stop Gerda from doing this, saying that she’s stupid to give the fishhook’s magic to the spirits instead of taking it for herself, and that with all that power she can secure everything else. Gerda is almost persuaded by Euron, but she still breaks the fishhook. Furiously, Euron attacks Gerda and he even overpowers her. He’s about to break her neck when Elsa thaws and destroys Euron once and for all with the help of the 4 spirits. Suddenly, Ahtohallan begins to shake and slowly sink into the sea because the 4 spirits no longer need a 5th spirit now that they have what they desire, which means no human being need ever enter Ahtohallan again. Elsa and Gerda struggle to escape. Hans sees Ahtohallan sinking and sails towards it. Later, Anna looks out the window of her castle and sees one of her royal ships. Hans gets off the ship and he gets tied up by her guards just as he’s about to speak. He’s about to be thrown into the dungeons when Elsa, Kristoff, and Gerda appear. Hans gets forgiven for his past crimes after helping bring Elsa home and he settles down in Arendelle with Kai, taking a job as a servant in Arendelle castle. Elsa retires from the role of 5th Spirit and keeps her powers. Sitron, who is Hans’ mare, is also in the movie, and she helps save Hans in Weselton. Kai starts shipping Hans and Elsa the moment he sees them. Hans finds this a bit creepy.

Also, scenes like the charade scene are referenced in the movie. Hans hears from Gerda that Elsa said he's an "unredeemable monster" and he's somewhat sad because he'd prefer the term "scoundrel". The snowball scene in Frozen Fever is also referenced. Hans thought the snowball was the result of his brothers trying to gaslight him into thinking Elsa was trying to kill him.

i'm literally screaming anon you would love pirates of the caribbean 3

[withinkandquill]

Cardan parts from her as if her words singe his skin - before his fingers can tighten around her jaw, before hurt and anger turn him into someone violent and dangerous. Already he can familiar the familiar impulse winding down the muscles of his arms, itching for that comforting sensation of power and control.

“None of that suggests a bloodbath!”

Once gentle fingers form fists at his sides.

A newly-poured goblet of wine sits nearby, prepared by a trembling servant who had hurried away again as quickly as she had come. Cardan’s temper was legendary; his cruelty the spectacle by which he was best known. But despite his reputation, he takes his anger out on neither goddess nor servant. Instead, he reaches for the nearest item - the goblet - and hurls it at the furthest wall. Dark wine drips down the it like spilled blood.

Cardan barely remembers that night, hiding beneath the feasting table as he watched his family fall one-by-one. Dain. Elowyn. Rhyia. Caelia. His father. All gone in one night. He barely remembers the weight of the crown as young Oak - secretly of Greenbriar blood, it seemed - placed it atop his head. It was supposed to be a party and Cardan had spent it as he spends them all and as he has spent many more nights since - drunk beyond recollection.

He needs no memories of the massacre to drive him to drink, though. Perhaps he should feel something for his murdered family but he does not. Cardan has little love for his family and so little is lost. What is lost, what he grieves the most, is freedom. That came from being an uncrowned, unwanted prince, sixth of a set of eligible and eager heirs, free to enjoy the lavish lifestyle of royalty without the responsibility of a kingdom.

And now…now that this truth had reached his ear…Cardan has yet another reason to drink. Hel. His unwitting, unwanted bride. And rather unexpectedly, the only person he ever began to believe truly cared for him.

Turning on heel, Cardan approaches again. Long strides make short work of the space between them. Hands find her shoulders, palms pushing her back until his body cages hers against the wall only a few steps behind. His touch is less gentle now.

“You yourself told me you were not bound as we are to faerie bargains,” he hisses. The lines of his jaw harden, Adam’s apple bobbing as he swallows past the lump that has formed in his throat. “You could have told me and if your motives were as you say, you would have.”

His eyes search her as he speaks - cold and daring with anger, glistening with something he doesn’t let show in other aspect of himself.

“He was going to kill me too, Hel. Or did you not realize that all of us meant all of us? Did you think me so forgotten that he might even forget to spill my blood? Or was this your way out of this…let us all die and then you are free, aren’t you? Did Balekin promise you this? Have you worked alongside him this whole time?”

“  i know it’s not fair to say this,  but i don’t have anything without you.  if i don’t have you i have nothing.  ” For Cardan. I'm not sorry.

Cardan’s expression hardens, black-and-gold flashing in the candlelight. Faeries were twilight creatures and his eyes were perfectly adjusted to the dim lighting, capable of making out every detail. He does not know if she can see him just the same. Can she watch his muscles tense the way he watches her shoulders set? Can she see the regret in his gaze as easily as he sees the desperation in hers?

He crosses the floor in a moment, long strides carrying him to her as if they were tethered together in more than name. His hands find her face, cupping her cheeks and jaw, curling behind her ears, forcing her to stare at him and only him.

“Then tell me the truth,” Cardan says, and he hears the mirror of her desperation in his voice. He does not believe he loves her, but he wants her all the same. Or maybe, he simply does not want to be alone again. Maybe he wants to be able to say that someone - anyone - puts up with him without manipulating him. His father, Balekin, now Jude…

It’s enough to hurt. It’s not enough to keep him from doing everything she feared if he discovers she has truly betrayed him. If she could have prevented….He could do it all. He has the power now. He has the crown. Jude may call most of the shots but she never made him swear anything regarding Hel.

It was not like Jude would not agree. She would do worse.

“Tell me you did not lie to me. Tell me you did not know. Tell me you have no other motives. Tell me that and mean it…please…”

[thebluenickel]

A Court of Ribbons and Shadows Oneshot

THIS IS VERY, VERY NSFW. And also contains spoilers for A Court of Ribbons and Shadows. This is a direct scene grab from ACORAS written from Azriel's perspective, rather than Gwyn's.

For my ACORAS readers, this is Gwyn's turn in Poetry and Piety.

Enjoy :)

-----------

Azriel carries Gwyn the entire way across the Summer Court palace, not daring to set her back on her feet until they’re behind a closed and locked door. If she’s aware this is an abduction with intent to immobilize in blankets—she shows no sign. Gwyn lounges in his arms, her loose hair tickling at his neck.

            Her prism is a lazy, sleepy shade of blue as it trails behind them. Az’s shadows are whispering, demanding to take, touch—

            “Kickback,” he asks, knocking open the suite’s door, “One through ten.”

            Her eyes flutter open at the sound of the lock snapping shut. And her colors begin to shift—silver-blue and pink. Her little feet kick like she wants to be put down. “Ten,” she says.

            Way too high. Az sets her gently on the bed, not daring to jostle her—there’s nothing erotic about a headache, that’s for damn sure. Gwyn puts up a protest as he rolls her into a blanket, then another. The scowl on her face is not doing her any good. He wants that pouting lip between his teeth.

            “Compression,” he tells her, and the gruff note in his voice clears none of the suspicion in her eye, “It’ll bring your kickback down.”

            “I’m sure there are better ways to squish me into submission.”

            Azriel turns away to hide his smile. And hide from himself the way her arms and legs are beginning to search out a way to remove herself from her cozy confines. She won’t find one.

            He sheds his leathers in exchange for a softer shirt and the cotton pants she likes so much. Less likely to set off her kickback; more likely to end up removed. A color reaches out to bat at his hair and a shadow steals it away.

            Gwyn huffs. “Don’t forget whose turn it is, Shadowsinger.”

            He ties the laces of his pants tight and steps into the bathing room. The faint sound of her muttering follows him in. With those senses of hers, she can no doubt hear him snickering in response.

            He didn’t come in here for a reason. He sits on the lip of the tub, letting a shadow play through his hands for a minute, then two. The shadow slips up and ruffles his hair—as impatient as he is. But they wait, letting Gwyn work herself up to exactly where he wants her. Sensitive and snarky.

            The moment he steps out of the bathroom, teal eyes like wishing wells snap to him. A quiet growl sounds from the back of her throat.

            “Any better?” he asks, planting a knee on the mattress beside her. He knows she’ll lie. But she can’t hide the way she shivers as his fingers stroke across the sensitive skin of her neck. “So sensitive,” he coos sympathetically, a hand trailing the length of her body, “And completely immobile.”

            Her eyes narrow. “Get away from me.”

            He does not. Careful not to unpin a single corner of the blankets, he throws his leg over her, pinning her hips between his thighs. And he braces his weight on his forearms, holding himself just out of reach of her arching back.

            She wriggles, muttering a protest. Her prism is all pink and jade now, pleading for more in ways her snarky mouth refuses to.

            He brushes his lips against hers in glancing promise. A soft sound tears its way free from him at the taste of her—confection and crankiness.

            “I want to touch you, Az,” she murmurs.

            “In a minute.” In an hour, if she’s very good.

            Colors lash up into life, flickering. “It is not your turn.”

            “But I am not the one bound up.” He gives her another glancing brush and kisses her in the moment she opens her lips to complain again. She muffles out a whimper.

            And surrenders to him, sighing blissfully as he settles his weight against her. The tension of two weeks slides off his shoulders, his wings falling open around them—a curtain of red, casting her prism in his hue.

            She nips his lip sharply. He squeezes her hips tighter, a hand gently closing around her throat. Reminding her who needs to show their sweetest manners. She swallows against his palm, a nervous flush heating through her skin.

            Something tightens against his chest, and he doesn’t have the time to register it’s her prism before his world flips. He hits the bed on his back, bouncing from the force.

            Before he can catch his breath, Gwyn is on her feet—arms crossed, lips scowling, gaze devouring. Her colors are the indigo of a challenge accepted.

            “Too much?” he asks warily.

            “No.” She growls at him as he tries to reach for her. His hand freezes in midair. “It’s my turn, Azriel. Stay down.”

            He leans back against the headboard of the bed. Whether or not he’s down by her standards is answered by the domineering look on her face. If she wants a challenge; he’s happy to oblige her.

            “Take off your shirt.”

            He’s very happy to oblige her. He takes his time folding up his shirt and laying it on the bedside table. She cocks a brow at him, amused.

            Her prism noses and nuzzles at his bared skin. “Lay down,” she orders, “on your back. Wings open. Hands above your head.”

            A prickling heat skewers down his spine. That’s how they’re playing tonight—he can no longer differentiate apprehension from desire where Gwyn is concerned. Especially with wishing well eyes trailing evilly across his sensitive wings.

            He lays back on the bed, only opening his wings when she gives him a sharp warning. The joints are pinned open the moment his weight settles on them—she looks entirely too pleased by the way his wing twitches at the glancing brush of her fingers. Trying to close, trying to protect itself from her. Entirely unable to.

            He rests his arms up above his head comfortably, feigning serenity. His shadows and his cock are both giving him away.

            “I’m going to give you three choices, Az,” she says, dropping two sheets of parchment onto the pillow next to him. He glances over to read them, but they’re encoded. “First: do you want your hands bound or unbound?”

            A trick, a trick, his shadows warn. He knows, but he can never tell when she’s tricking him with an obvious trick to trick him into tricking himself. He hazards, “Unbound.”

            She smiles—dammit. “Second: pick a number between one and one-hundred.”

            An alarmed calculation spills through his head. A small number is obvious; a big number is dangerous—does she know how many times a male can come in a row? It’s most definitely not a double-digit number. “Twelve,” he blurts.

            “An even number,” she says, plucking up one of her encoded papers and folding it. The paper labeled with, one, leaving behind the page labeled with, two.

            “Little shit,” he grumbles—little shit for making him overthink that; absolute terror for using the bluffing techniques he taught her against him.

            “Size doesn’t always matter.”

            He snorts. Dammit. And he laughs.

            “Last choice, Az.” She holds up her list for him to see and puts a tally mark in the large blank space in the bottom corner of the parchment. “You have one tally mark. Every time you move your arms, I will add another.”

            His arms tense, half-expecting to pull against resistance—but, of course, he’s unbound.

            Gwyn grins at him. “But you get to decide what the tallies mean. Either: each tally is ten minutes, or each is one climax.”

            Either: he’s fucked, or he’s fucked. The lack of specification on the first option is no doubt a trap—one he refuses to fall for. With a growl, he decides, “Climax. You’re evil.”

            “We match.” She props herself up on the bed, swinging her leg over his prone body—mimicking him, taunting him—her weight settles a little too close and a little too far. His cock twitches; his arms twitch.

            He freezes. This is far too early to be struggling.

            “Let’s begin,” she says. And all of her colors shift, swirl. Illusions take form as—feathers. Exact copies of the one he pulled on her, but a hundred of them. All hovering menacingly over his wings.

            He puts up an immediate protest, threatening, “I will pay you back for this, Gwyn.”

            The feathers drift and sway and stop, directly above the membrane. There they hover, waiting for just the right moment to strike. He watches from the corner of his eye, tight with anticipation. That slick softness against his wings—no, that won’t make him come. It’ll likely drive him irreparably mad if he doesn’t shake it off instantly. Like electricity.

            The more he tenses up, the more he’s sure it’s hopeless.

            Gwyn lowers the feathers onto his wings and lets them simply rest there. The weight of them isn’t enough for him to quite feel anything. He narrows his eyes at her suspiciously, his wings twitching—and he’s tickled by every single feather as they shift.

            A short shock, over before he can gasp in a breath. “Fuck you,” he groans. “That’s a good immobilization technique.”

            “You like it?”

            “No,” he growls.

            She very, very delicately taps her nails against his stomach. And drags the soft sensation up his torso in searching lines, finding all the little places he tries to shift out from beneath her touch. He freezes, refusing to give her more to use against him.

            Her nails drag back down, agonizingly gentle. He’s distinctly aware that tickling is something she’s cursed at him for more than once—he likely earned this. Doesn’t change how much she’s going to regret this the moment her turn is over. He’ll tie her up; he’ll get every inch of her skin awake and screaming for his touch; and he’ll make her come off of nothing more than the soft bristles of a brush.

            He blows out a slow breath as her nails trail back up his torso, and back down. Each time she repeats the stroke, he hates it viscerally more. She won’t stop until she wins.

            He’s not going to make this easy for her. Even as she shifts higher, taking those soft touches to his arms. His breath catches—it sounds loud in the quiet room. And she drags her nails all the way back down to his waist. All the way back up—

            Steady and slow and inescapable.

            “It’s not working, Gwyn,” he taunts.

            She raps her nails against his chest. “I’m only just getting started.” And she rolls off of him.

            The respite is not what he hoped it would be—his skin is tingling in demand for any kind of actual touch. And Gwyn is standing at the foot of the bed. He has an instant, sharp flash of an image of her reaching towards his foot, and he nearly calls it on that. He’ll let her win; he doesn’t care.

            But she crawls up onto the mattress, her hands reaching out straight for the laces of his pants. He goes carefully blank, hiding away the thundering need in his head. He thought she intended to torture his wings the whole night—but gods, he’d kill for her hand on his cock again.

            She grabs the legs of his pants and rips them off him in one movement. He nearly reaches for her on no other instinct than asking if she’s sure about this. The feathers on his wings give him a jolt of a reminder not to move.

            She certainly looks confident about this as she straddles his thighs, her hands trailing up his skin—her face flushes pink, her eyes darkening. She doesn’t look away from his cock for a second as she skirts directly past.

            She repeats the delicate torture of her nails, this time on the sensitive skin of his hips. His muscles clamp down in protest, and the feathers shift.

            He curses at her, and again. She knows she has him with this—she’s watching him with a taunt in her eyes as she moves up and down and up and down. Until there’s nothing more left of his mind to fight her, and he grabs for her hands, growling at her, you win; you win.

            She removes the tickling touch, reprimanding, “Hands.”

            Settling back in, he glowers at her but makes no more comment. She wants him wound up; she’ll get wound up. But he’s giving her none of the satisfaction of her point in their game. He’ll get the point back easily enough.

            No brushes—he’s going to tie her hands to the headboard and keep her coming on his hand until she gives up trying to squirm away from him. Until she realizes, even with her legs free, she can’t escape. That the taunt is in the unnecessary restraints; and the threat is in the false freedom.

            Gwyn glances over at him as she strikes another tally mark onto her list. Her breathing is sharper, shorter—she heard that plan in his mind. He turns to lock his eyes with her, promising her she’ll get her dues just as soon as she gives him back the control. Her throat moves at a swallow, and her colors flash a blistering jade of arousal.

            A shadow slips into her hand as she sits upright, depositing a cube of ice into her palm and fluttering off obediently. Traitor, he growls at the shadow. It hides behind a jade. Gwyn smiles.

            Without any of the tenderness from her last torment, she reaches out and sets the ice cube down unceremoniously on the membrane of his wing. He’s numb for the briefest moment, then the cold lashes through him. Straight to his bones.

            “Gwyn, get that off my wing.”

            She looks over her shoulder at something and murmurs, “Sorry, I just forgot something.” Without a second glance at the ice on his fucking wing, she hops off of him, dropping to her feet on the floor and padding deeper into the room. “Hold on,” she says, and there’s a rustle of her moving things around, “I know I left it over here somewhere.”

            He desperately tries to shake the ice off and only succeeds in shifting all the feathers. A groan rattles through his shivering body. If he moves his arms right now, he’s giving up on their game. He’s pinning her to the bed and taking that ice cube to her skin.

            “You little shit,” he mutters. And he doesn’t move his arms. Half the fun of Gwyn is the wanting—the minutes and hours she leaves him wanting to touch her, torture her into those sweet, pleasured sobs.

            The other half of the fun is doing it when she’s got him wound up just right. If this is to be only the beginning of his night—she must be wanting something special when she’s done.

            “Found it,” she announces, holding up a long, thin ribbon for him to see.

            He has three immediate ideas what she’s intending to do with that and none of them are good. But he waits for her to situate herself back on the bed and growls for the ice to be removed. She ignores him.

            The ribbon slips between his cock and his stomach, and she loops it around the base. Then another loop and she begins to tie it off. Azriel can’t think of the words to protest—he can’t imagine how she knows to do such a thing. His body ceases it’s shivering, pinpoint concentrated on that tightening—

            “What are you doing.”

            She glances at him through her lashes. “I did some research on your anatomy. Does this hurt?” He shakes his head, and she continues, “I want to be sure you can’t get ahead of my game.”

            “I’m definitely not going to come with ice on my wing.”

            “Oh, sorry,” she simpers.

            The ice is mercifully removed, leaving a prickling square of wing half-numbed. Droplets of water slide down Gwyn’s hand and wrist, and she flicks them onto the membrane. His wings twitch discontentedly; the feathers shift.

            She frowns down at the remaining cube of ice in her palm, glances down at his body, calculatingly. And she asks, “Could you melt this a bit more for me?”

            The ice presses directly to the head of his cock. His body lurches unhappily—his arms remain pinned, but he absolutely will not withstand that for long.

            “That won’t work,” he says, too tightly. “That won’t work.”

            She rubs the ice around—and he almost laughs; she’s an absolute terror and he fucking loves her. “Aren’t you supposed to be warmer down here?” she asks, jadedly, “I thought this would go faster.”

            He seethes at her, “You are going to regret this.” And he whimpers, not managing to catch the pitiful sound in time—because he’s never made it before; he didn’t know he could make that sound. Gwyn’s eyes light up curiously, the ice pressing a bit harder like she wants to hear that sound again. He finally grabs for her, pushing away the cold.

            She adds her next tally mark; his hands return to their positions without need for another reprimand. The ice is still in her hand. And she shifts up his body to rest her hips against his stomach and reach out to touch his wings—

            “Come on, Gwyn,” he pleads, “No more of the ice.”

            She makes a soft, soothing sound. “It’s alright, love. You’ll like this.”

            The ice glances across the membrane of his wing, leaving a glistening trail of frigid water in its wake. Gwyn leans over, one hand braced on his chest and drawing gentling circles. Heat breathes across his wing—

            She swipes her tongue up and up the line left by the ice, sweeping away the cold and replacing it with the pleasure of her mouth. He groans—low and animal, desperate for more.

            She chooses a different spot on his wing and repeats. Ice, heat. Ice, heat. Over and over as the shivers turn to shudders, the melting heat stealing away the apprehension of the cold. He’s definitely taking a cube of ice to her at the next available opportunity—it’s surprisingly nice when she’s nice about it.

            The ice melts away entirely and she sprinkles water onto him again. He doesn’t complain. The cold shock not soothed over is the only thing clearing his mind as her hand moves to hover just above his throbbing cock.

            “Say please,” she purrs.

            Little shit. “Please,” he grits out.

            “Nicer.”

            “Please.”

            The slim, narrow pleasure of a stroke moves down the entire length of his cock—the pad of her pointer finger tracing the lines and shape. He tries to arch into it for more, but her weight is once again pinning his thighs.

            Fascination takes over her wishing well eyes. She strokes him again, watching as his helpless body twitches for her. His wings ripple; the feathers tickle—he clamps his hands into fists to ground himself.

            “Gwyn, please,” he tries; he begs.

            She glances at his face like she forgot he had one. And her hand wraps tight around the head of his cock. That simpering little quirk to her lips is a taunt like no other as pleasure hammers against his spine. He’s never been so deeply under another’s control than right here, beneath her.

            He gasps quietly, moans softly. As if in reward, she strokes him just the way he likes.

            Pressure disappears from his body—he entirely forgot about the ribbon—and he smells the vanilla of an illusion. She didn’t have to get up and get it; she illusioned the damn thing. Diabolical smartass.

            Her hand twists experimentally and moves the entire length down and up his cock. His wings twitch in response, the feathers shifting—even that feels like pleasure now that it’s paired against her hand around him.

            “That’s good,” he murmurs, “So good, Gwyn.”

            Any hesitancy to her touch dissolves as she finds more and more ways to tear him into tiny pieces. His head tips back into the pillows as his body winds tighter. She treats his exposed throat to a soft touch—he can’t tell if it’s her nails or her prism.

            Her voice pierces through the haze, “Come now,” and it’s like a fist releasing deep inside him. A climax snaps through him, whip-sharp, before he can prepare for it. His groan chokes in his throat, but still sounds loud in the room.

            Her hand slows and stops without chasing aftershocks—that mercy should be a sign that this is about to get worse, but he’s serenely drifting in all the things she just did to him. Surely it can’t be that bad.

            Gwyn clambers off the bed again, and he almost protests at the loss of her body heat. She reaches for the hem of her shirt, pauses, locks eyes with him, and pulls it off with a flourish. His body responds too quickly for his mind to catch up.

            His head is a big, empty canyon; his thoughts a whooshing of wind.

            He almost reaches for her—soft skin, handfuls of hips, blushing pink—but she’s already going to work removing the rest of her clothing. That’s a very bad sign. He doesn’t know why yet, but he knows it is. The shadow cleaning him off is also entirely disconcerting.

            As soon as she’s undressed, she swings herself up over him again. This time, she lodges a leg between his so she doesn’t have to straddle the entire width of his body. Still—he can see how badly she wants him; he can taste it.

            “Not your turn, Shadowsinger,” she reminds him, noting the direction of his gaze. “You still have two to go.”

            He’s hard again—he can take another climax easily. The last one might ache if she doesn’t give him a minute of downtime. Somehow he doubts she knows or cares that his body has stricter limitations than hers. He probably earned this with his last turn.

            He hisses at the first touch of her hand. And that must urge her on, because she strokes him harder, faster than she did before. There must be some illusion at play, keeping her hand slick. He thinks he would have noticed if she’d spit into one of those tiny, magic hands of hers. He might have lost the remainder of his empty mind at the sight.

            There’s no keeping a lock on the sounds he’s making now. Breathless praise, desperate cursing as the feathers on his wings melt back into colors and begin to swirl caresses against him. His mind-whites, and he comes.

            Another whimper rips from his mouth. A soft, whining plea of a moan—he doesn’t know what he’s pleading for. He sounds like a wounded animal.

            Gwyn doesn’t stop stroking him as his climax hits a blistering peak and begins to subside. His entire body is trembling, but she doesn’t relent. Through his squeezed shut eyes, he doesn’t see her moving. But he feels a breath coast across his skin just before her snarky, confectionary mouth closes around his cock.

            Her tongue laves against his skin, her lips exploring all the ways she can fit around him. He jolts, the game going out the window in a heartbeat as a lashing sensation moves through him—too sharp to be pleasure, too pleasurable to be pain. He delves a hand into her hair, pulling lightly.

            “Please, please, a second, give me a second,” he begs, even as she releases him. She allows him to guide her away from the ache she just created, and she crawls up his body. Her weight, her warmth—all that bare, soft skin settles against him.

            Like warm water closing over his head. He can drown in this. He can die like this.

            His eyes drift closed in the peace she’s granting him. And he squeezes her hip in his free-hand. He doesn’t know how long she’ll allow this; he’ll make the best of it. “Please,” he whispers again, and she kisses him softly, “Please, please.”

            She murmurs soothingly to him between drowning kisses. He keeps pleading with her, trying to keep her here as long as possible. He likes this—he really fucking likes this. A fantasy is drifting through his mind of something near exactly like this. But he’s on top, and she’s stuffed so full of him—

            A scratch of pen on parchment wakes him back to reality. Another tally mark.

            “Damn you.”

            “Put your hands back where they belong,” she orders.

            With a groan, he releases her. She watches him sharply, searching for any reason to add to her tally marks. Her eyes drift back to his cock and widen. Her mind whispers surprise—so she does know the limitations of a male body; she’s simply ignoring them.

            “You have no idea how bad I want you,” he says, his rough, raw voice leaves no room to doubt him, “Every second of every day. Half the time—” he grits his teeth as she leans down to blow a cold breath against the heated skin of his cock “—I don’t know if I want your body or your company. Hearing you laugh, hearing you moan—it’s all the same anymore.”

            She drags her gaze up and up his body until they lock eyes. “Say please.”

            “Please.”

            She strokes him with her tongue.

            “Please, Gwyn.”

            She hums out a soft, pleased sound that vibrates through him. He’s about to plead again when the velvet warmth of her mouth wraps around his cock. He switches to praises as she experiments on him—trying to find her rhythm. She could probably bite him, and he’d find a way to come from it.

            She sucks, and his head fills with static. She flicks her tongue, and he whimpers for her again. There’s a sensation of being chased the entire time—like he should be running from the building pressure, but it’s already inside him. He can’t escape it; he wouldn’t want to.

            No matter how much of his mind is obliterated. He warns her before he comes, and she makes a sound against him that might be understanding or demand. She doesn’t slow down until he obediently gives in to her. Her prism on his wings bursts silver-blue all at once, splashing the room in a starlit glow.

            She swallows around him, and he doesn’t know if his eyes cross or roll back into his head, but the world goes dark and hazy for a second. It pops back into focus at the sound of his cock slipping from her mouth.

            She sits up to survey the conquering she’s done to him. And she licks her lips. “One more.”

            “Wait—wait.” His command works like magic, stilling her in place. Big, guileless teal eyes flick up to his face, her prism turning pink. That’s adorable. “You never specified whose climax each of those tally marks represents.”

            A blush sweeps up her throat, her hips shifting like she wants to grind down against his thigh. “You think you can make me come without moving your hands or using your—” her confidence muffles “—cock?”

            Adorable. And pink and wet and—

            Her eyes go wide at the motion of his head, coaxing her to move up to his mouth. He narrows his eyes at her. “You tasted me,” he says, “Did you like that?”

            She nods timidly.

            “It’s my turn.”

            Her colors are turning faintly maroon, but jade is spilling over them. She stammers for a moment. “I don’t want to—sit on you,” she protests.

            Az is going to lose his wits. “Please do,” he begs. He’s seeing paradise behind his eyes, and he wants to make it a reality post and haste.

            “That’s dangerous.”

            “You won’t suffocate me. Just come here, Gwyn.” He simpers out a perfect, “Please?”

            Her eyes hood irascibly. And with a motion at her body, she offers, “Go ahead.”

            “Is this a trick.”

            “No. You can move your arms—” her words break into a yelp as he sits up, grabbing her thighs to pin her in place. She squirms at the grip a little, her eyes going a bit wild—like she’s realizing she just let go of his leash without quite enough forethought.

            He moves her into place and adjusts a pillow before settling back onto the bed. She looks down nervously at him between her thighs, her legs squeezing a bit. That instinct to hide away from him is rearing its head. He’ll have none of that.

            The angle she’s holding herself at won’t do either. He pulls at her thighs, not hard enough to force her down, just wearing her energy out—even her thighs can’t hold that position for long. Pretty thighs, pillowy, downy. He rubs his cheek against the softness. And feels the moment her muscles begin to shake from the strain.

            He yanks her down onto his mouth. Her hand sinks into his hair, and there’s a thunk as she grabs for the headboard. Then a long, muffled moan at the first touch of his tongue. Her legs squeeze again like she wants to hide.

            He slips his hand around to part her for him, using his arm to pin her down. He explores every inch of her in a long, slow drag—listening to the sounds she makes, finding all the places she’ll curse him for using against her later.

            The hand in his hair grips down sharply, then releases. Almost apologetically, she strokes at the strands. Her taste in his mouth; her nails scraping at his scalp—he’s never letting her up again. It’s his turn again the moment she comes. And he’ll throw out every one of his plans just to stay here for a good, long while. He can already place bets on how many climaxes it’ll take for her to lean against that headboard for support.

            She grinds down against his mouth and immediately begins to apologize.

            But he moves back up to her apex, flicking his tongue at the nerves. She gives a high-pitched moan—the one that sounds alarmed; he fucking loves that sound. With little more than the pressure of his lips wrapping around her apex, she comes.

            He draws at the nerves, hard enough to drag her pleasure out, gentle enough not to hurt her. A series of breathless whimpers echoes through the room and she goes quiet. Ready for more, then.

            He dares to release her with one hand to get his fingers involved in this—and she rolls off of him, tumbling out on the covers. Maybe she hears his mind whisper, dammit, or she’s giddy with pleasure. She starts giggling. With her hair haloed out around her and the soft glow of bliss on her skin, she’s the most beautiful thing he’s ever seen.

            She always is. But it smacks him in the face like a slap.

            His shadows slip through him, cleaning away the taste of her, to his chagrin and her relief. She nearly pulls back from his kiss before she realizes his lips are dry.

            He rolls over top of her, very carefully. They’re both naked, and he’s hard again—he refuses to allow panic anywhere near the blissful, sleepy softness seeping into her. But her mind is blank of even an acknowledgement of their position. Her end of the connection is whirring loudly, but without a hint of fear.

            “I didn’t hurt you, did I?” she asks.

            He laughs before he can quite stop it. And lets her yank his weight down against her by an arm hooked around his neck. She hums a pleased sound, her head falling back into the pillows and exposing her neck to him. Turnabout, Fair Play—

            “No,” he whispers hoarsely, “I already want more.”

            “Maybe tomorrow, Shadowsinger.” She laces her fingers through his hair, smoothing down the ruffling she did to it. Her eyes flick open to spear him with a sharp, assessing look. “Did I go too far?”

            He shakes his head. “You’re a mischievous little shit. I love it.”

[scare-you]

Eren said it himself, he wanted his friends, all of them to live a long and happy life. He knew they will never be left alone, the hate would never stop. Was he going the extra mile with the rumbling? Most likely. But with his friends and the rest of the shifters topping him, he made sure they would be left alone.

He reached his original goal as well, there are no more titans.

He told Mikasa to move on in their very last conversation. That scenario was never ever going to be real, with Eren and Mikasa hiding. But deep down both Eren and Mikasa wanted that. He still told her to move on and forget about him, and only confessed his true feelings, thoughts and desires about Mikasa once Armin literally punched him and demanded him to do so. He is a 19 year old boy with selfish desires, but he hid them, swallowed them all, and chose the option best for his friends, knowing he would never gain anything out of it, he would never see them achieve that freedom which he gave up on, and he will never get to be happy with them and Mikasa ever again. So yes, Isayama did what he promised. He gave us a bittersweet, beautiful ending.

But most characters achieved their goals too:

Reiner can stop fighting at last and reunited with both his friends in Paradis and in Marley, without hurting or disappointing his mother, who was happy for him not being a walking weapon with a limited life-span anymore.

Falco got to stay with Gabi and protect her, and they will most likely be happy together forever.

Annie reunited with her father and now can stop fighting too.

Armin will see the world, he now has the chance, he can also be with Annie.

Pieck doesn't have to worry about her father's pain of losing her daughter anymore.

Jean will be able to settle down.

Connie's mom is okay.

Historia seems happy, and as she knew of Eren's intentions, she chose to not reveal them. She may not have made the best decision, but she was living her own life with her own choices. In the end, she has a beautiful daughter which she genuinely loves and will be able to give her a childhood she did not get.

Levi can be at peace, he did not disappoint his comrades.

Mikasa will be able to move on. It was Eren's deathday, and she wanted to be by his side. Is it hard to let go after loving him for so long? Definitely. But her last smile seems convincing enough that she is accepting the results of her choice and WILL be able to move on, even if it will hurt for a long time.

Ymir's motive became extremely simple and heartbreaking.

It was shown in a few panels how she observed couples longingly. She wanted love. She wanted someone to care about her, she did not want to be a nameless slave anymore, but just like those couples, someone else's other half. A little girl always dreams of the strongest, most unreachable ones (just like we dream of celebrities as young teenagers), and with a good amount of toxicity and morbidness, she became attached to her oppressor. She saw a chance with her new-found powers to make him love her, but she remained a concubine, a slave, and had to endure him loving different women, while he only "loved" her because of the things she'd done for the Eldians. Even as she died, she remained a slave, as Fritz said it himself.

Ymir was bound not by being a slave in life, but being a slave to her own foolish love, desperately trying to get Fritz's love even after she was technically free in Paths, thus serving the royal family in order to keep herself close to what remained of Fritz, their legacy. As Eren said, she really wasn't a god nor was she a devil. She was just a girl who stumbled upon great powers. The power of the titans did not set her free, because she remained a person with her own stupid and selfish desires.

Mikasa set her free because she showed her how to let go. She did the exact opposite of what Ymir did. Mikasa, even if she will grieve for a long time, will be free, while Ymir remained a slave for 2000 years until she was finally able to let go of everything that she deemed important in order to earn Fritz's love: the Titans and everything that came with it.

I will go down with this ending as it indeed is beautiful and bittersweet.

[imaginedreamwrite]

BOC reader is tired of being the dirty little secret and wants a real love, a love that doesn’t have to be hidden .

After the end of her internship ( she was a intern for a year)she’s offered a position as Steve’s legislative assistant, which she denies. She needs something real and permanent , not temporary and disposable ( that’s how she thinks Steve sees her but it’s not true obviously) she needs something stable for the baby growing in her womb.

Before Steve’s inauguration as President,he divorces peggy. He searches for you for months and months till he finally found you buying groceries at a farmer’s market in a small town in California , heavily 5 months pregnant

The magazine in your hands was glossy and thick, the cover displayed a picture of the new president of the United States, a man you had known far too intimately to forget.

It had been months since you had seen those blue-green eyes in person, months since you had denied the position of being his legislative assistant and made the decision to walk away. It was the only way you could give him what he needed, and it was the only way you could save yourself from feeling like you were disposable.

Because you were. Because Peggy Carter had manipulated far too many scenarios to hurt not just you but Steve as well.

Your departure was as calculated as the divorce that finally split them apart. Steve was free; you were lost in the States, across the country. Steve was inaugurated and you were carrying his child, although you wondered if he had ever known.

“I wish I could give you honey,” the shop keeper had loaded a basket up and set it on the counter, “but given your state…”

“I miss the taste of honey,” you rest your hand upon your belly, “a few days away from being 6 months pregnant now, and still 3 to go.”

“The last three months will fly by and before you know it, you’ll have a little one to take care of.” The woman behind the stall had pushed the basket toward you and grinned eagerly. “For you and the little one, and I promise next week I will have that blanket done.”

“You really are too sweet,” you had reached for the basket handles and lift it from the counter to rest it against your hip, “really, thank you.”

“Same time next week.” She had waved you off and you moved from the stall, walking slowly toward the exit of the farmers market.

As you stepped onto the sidewalk, you were briefly distracted by the appearance of a few men in black suits that were milling around, though they were paying you no mind.

With a sigh and a shake of your head, you had turned the other way and began making your way toward your apartment a few streets over. You were mindlessly walking to your apartment, even mindlessly opening the door without much thought before you had come to a dead stop at the appearance of a phantom in the middle of your apartment.

“Steve,” the basket nearly dropped from your arms when you saw him standing by the window in a fine dark blue suit, hair slicked back and a full, trimmed beard on his face, “what are you doing here?”

“Y/N,” he turned toward you, a team of secret service agents milling about your home, “you look-“

“Pregnant?” You snipped and stepped further into your home, protectively resting a hand on your belly. “Seems to be a 9 month wait.”

“Sweetheart, why didn’t you tell me?” His voice was soft; his expression softer. “That’s my baby. That’s our baby, why didn’t you-“

“Your ex-wife made it clear that if I tried to overstep my bounds,” you moved your hand from one side of your belly to the other, smiling to yourself when you felt your baby move, “and you were being inaugurated.”

“I miss you,” Steve moved toward you with cautious steps and you were remiss to move away from the President of the United States, “Y/N, I can’t stop thinking about you. When you left…when I couldn’t find you…”

“You’re divorced, you’re the president of the United States, you have so much to look forward to.” Your breath was catching in your throat and you had felt as if you were either going to have a hopeful future or a devastating present.

“A baby,” Steve slipped his hand onto your belly, his fingertips touching yours, “if you would have me?”

“Are you hungry? I’ve been having particular cravings…” your smile was small and tentative, though it had been returned by a smile from Steve.

“Ya know, I make a mean peanut butter and jelly sandwich.” Steve offered, leaning in to kiss your forehead, his lips lingering against you.

“I would like that.”