#soon though. sighs wearily. i miss them (the ocs who live in my head and who i think about constantly)

[stinkrascal]

OK now i can go back to editing my sim pics...... ocs my beloved

[stray-kaz]

Snow & Ice : a Bucky Barnes x OC FF : Thirteen

Approximately one year later

Bucky stepped carefully through the Captain America 1940′s war exhibit, cap brim pulled low and metal arm disguised by a dark jacket. He stared at the larger than life images of Steve, other Howling Commandos, and a young man who strongly resembled the face he saw in mirrors, only stripped of the fear and self loathing in his eyes.

He kept walking, avoiding eye contact with anyone, until he caught sight of the final exhibit item, a perfectly clear photograph of a young woman that sent his heart thudding hard and drew sweat from his palm. It wasn’t just her, though, that set off the alarms in his head. It was the smiling baby in her arms he couldn’t stop staring at. Dark hair, nearly black, and crystalline blue eyes, hands reaching out, reaching for him.

He let his gaze travel down to the placard at the bottom.

Found in the ice alongside Steve Rogers, Captain America, Ms. Lucie Hall. Born miraculously in June 2013, Ella Buchanan Barnes, the only child of long missed Howling Commando, James Buchanan Barnes.

Bucky staggered a step backwards, mind echoing those words over and over again.

...the only child...only child...

He turned on his heel and began pushing his way back through the crowd, searching blindly for the door, his eyes clouded by tears. As soon as fresh air rushed his lungs, he took off down the street until he could duck into an alley and press his back against a cold, hard brick wall. He tipped his head back and rubbed furiously at his eyes.

Lucie was alive. He hadn’t dared let himself think of her for decades, even in the few lucid moments when his mind was briefly his own. But he had been sure she was dead, even after Captain America had tried to get through to him by telling him Lucie was living and had a baby girl.

Now, not only was she alive, but she did have a child. His child. One look at the baby girl’s eyes and he knew it wasn’t a lie or a trick.

He had to find them. He pushed away from the wall, then hesitated. Was it such a good idea to force his way back into her life? She wasn’t alone, she had a daughter. Maybe she had a different man. The thought caused his metal fingers to curl, creaking into his palm. He looked down at the hand, eyes dark with resentment.

Who was he fooling? Child or no child, Lucie wouldn’t want him now, not when he was barely human and damaged seven ways from Sunday.

No. He wouldn’t find her. He would walk away and leave her to her life, the one she had built without him.

Steve’s door slammed against the wall and he jumped away from the window to gape at Lucie as she stormed in, furious. He could almost taste the electricity crackling around her in waves.

“Where is he?” she demanded, her eyes burning and bright with tears.

Steve had the intelligence not to ask who she meant. Lucie walked forward and jabbed a finger into his chest.

“Who told you?” he asked wearily.

“Nat did. But you should have! I should have heard it from you, Steve Rogers! I’ve known you since I was ten years old, you know I love him, how dare you keep Bucky from me!”

He sighed and wrapped her into a hug, so he wouldn’t have to look her in the eyes when he told her what he had to now that she knew the father of her daughter was alive.

“He isn’t the same man you knew, Luce. He didn’t know who I was, didn’t know his own name. He’s been...brainwashed by HYDRA. I think I got through to him. He saved my life when the helicopter crashed, but he still isn’t himself. He...he might hurt you, Lucie.”

She suddenly pushed him away, her grey eyes flaring again.

“Bucky would never hurt me” she said fiercely, then spun and ran out of the room, the tears falling.

Bucky stood across the street from the little playground, his hands deep in his pockets, watching Lucie push Ella on the swing, her dark red hair pulled back from her face in a high ponytail. Another redhead was sitting on a low bench, keeping an eye on the two of them, but as Bucky continued to watch, she slowly started to turn, sharp eyes scanning the space between them until they landed on him.

He knew he should move as soon as he saw her open her mouth and call for Lucie, without looking away, but he didn’t. He felt rooted to the spot, unable to shift from his position as Lucie responded to her name and turned around to find the other woman not even looking towards her. She took a step and then followed the direction of her gaze, right across the street and onto the man dressed in all muted colours, trying to blend in with the world he no longer had a place in.

Bucky watched her freeze and her eyes go wide, her mouth open in a round, pain filled ‘o’. She said something he couldn’t hear and her friend stood up and took her place at the swing set.

He knew he needed to leave, needed to walk away, leave her behind. But he still didn’t move.

Lucie walked through the playground entrance and glanced each way before jogging across the street, her feet picking up speed as Bucky finally started to move, turning his back on her.

“Oh no, you don’t, James Barnes” she said, grabbing his right arm and pulling hard.

He knew that he could overpower her, could make a break for it, but he desperately wanted to see her, remember her, so he let her turn him around and looked down at her face, her beloved eyes. They were furious and lovely all at once, the colour of the sky after it rains.

Bucky barely saw her move before her arms were around him and her hands were tugging his hood down, sinking into his hair. He felt her heart pounding against his chest as she raised up on her tiptoes, her tear damp face wetting the side of his neck. He could hear her breathing quickly at first, but as he slowly lifted his arms to lace around her, it evened out and her heartbeat slowed to a more manageable rhythm.

Lucie felt Bucky fold around her, solid arms hooking her in, firm chest warm underneath his t-shirt.

“Where have you been?” she whispered into his skin.

“Everywhere and nowhere.”

She looked up at him, tear streaked.

“You have a little girl, Bucky. She’s a year old. Her name is Ella. She is beautiful. She smiles all the time, just like you.”

He pressed his lips together in an upset frown, far from smiling.

“My mind is broken, Lucie. I’m not who you think I am anymore. I can’t be a father. I’m not who you want, doll. I’m not what you need now.”

Lucie moved her hands around to touch his face, shaking her head at him.

“Bucky, you have always been what I need, always who I want. You gave me home when I wasn’t safe in my own. Let me help you.”

He shook his head against her hands, and he closed his eyes.

“Bucky? Let me love you again. I never stopped.”

He opened his blue eyes, so like his daughter’s, and gave in. His heart had never been his own, not really. It had always been hers.

“I have a metal arm” he said softly, sad.

She gave him a tiny smile.

“I don’t care, James. You’re whole to me. I love all of you.”

Lucie slid her hand down his left arm until she could touch the cool metal fingers, slipping hers in between them. Bucky flexed his fingers gently around hers, unaccustomed to gentle human contact. Lucie squeezed back.

“Would you like to meet your daughter?” she asked, hopeful.

Bucky exhaled quietly, a little shaky. He nodded and followed Lucie back to the park, where the second redhead eyed them both shrewdly.

“Are you sure about this, Lucie?” she asked, staring Bucky down as she stood between them and Ella.

“Yes, Nat, I’m sure. She’s his baby, too” Lucie told her.

Natasha stepped aside and Bucky laid eyes on his child up close for the first time. Ella smiled up at him; there was a dimple in her chin and a thatch of dark hair threatening to fall in her blue eyes. He felt a hard catch in his throat as she stretched out her fingers like a starfish, trying to reach him.

Lucie moved past him and lifted the baby free of the swing, holding her so she could see Bucky’s face more closely.

“Ella, this is your daddy” she said, kissing the top of her head.

Ella reached out her hands and Bucky closed his eyes as her soft fingertips tickled his cheeks and poked at his nose. He felt a little embarrassed to feel tears pricking his eyes, but he blinked them away and glanced down at Lucie.

“May I hold her?” he asked carefully.

She nodded and gave Ella to him, easing one arm under her diaper padded bottom. He gazed into blue eyes that matched his and felt something ice cold inside of him begin to crack and melt, replaced by a fluttering hope. Maybe one day he could be okay again.

“Romania.”

Steve said it flatly, as if it left a bitter taste in his mouth. Lucie nodded steadily.

“Yes.”

“But what about Ella?” he asked quietly, knowing the answer already.

Lucie’s resolute expression softened.

“She will be coming with us” she told him. “He’s her father, Steve. And I’ve always been his, you know that.”

She fidgeted with her left hand and Steve’s gaze was drawn to the delicate silver band that circled her ring finger, tiny dots of jade embedded in it. He sighed and pushed his hand through his hair, resigned.

“Well” he began. “Since you’re his wife now, I suppose you have to go. Congratulations, Lucie Barnes.”

She blushed.

“Thank you. Nat arranged everything for us. You are the only two who know. I love everyone here, but it isn’t safe if they all know. Bucky will be hunted.”

Steve nodded.

“Where is he?”

“Elsewhere. Waiting for me. Waiting for Ella. We’re leaving tonight. We have to go.”

She wrapped her arms around his waist and clung on for a long while before eventually having to let go. She leaned right up to kiss him on the cheek, unshed tears in her eyes.

“I’ll be seeing you, Cap. I love you.”

“I love you, too, Luce. If you ever need anything...”

She smiled.

“I know who to call.”

He nodded again and she stepped away, reaching down for her duffel. She did not look back or stop.

THE END.

[varricmancer]

Lost And Found  | 4

Also available on AO3

Pairing: Varric Tethras x OC

Summary: Instead of the nothingness she had craved, Crystal woke up in the world of Thedas. What had once been merely a story that she loved now seemed very real and she was right in the heart of it all. She soon finds a reason to live again and a love in the arms of someone as quietly broken as her.

A/N: Okay, a million years later and here is Varric's POV. It's a bit choppy, but I meant for it to be like that because it's, ya know, from his POV. It's not a retelling of events but simply a glance into his mind. Also, he's a man - and a horny bastard at that - so there's a bit of nsfw thoughts going on in this chapter. Lots of body appreciation. I love writing characters that are already whipped and can't figure out what that means lmao. You poor sod, you had no chance.I'll try to be faster with the next chapter, because I'm just as excited as you guys to see what's happening

A wave of relief spread through the party as the clanging of swords and crinkle of lightning were silenced. As one, they holstered their weapons and strode back to the waiting wagon and the rest of their traveling companions.

Varric spared a glance for one of the bodies lying still as he passed - an unfortunate young apostate sporting one of his arrows in his chest.

Killing never got easier, never mind what kind of bullshit he spouted. No matter that it was his life or theirs - he’d still be seeing the startled green lifeless eyes of a boy barely reaching adulthood in his dreams, along with all of the countless others that already haunted him.

He sighed wearily and climbed back onto his pony, adjusting his saddle sore ass as well as he could while he waited for the party to get back into position. The wagon of supplies and it’s guards were back into place behind him soon enough, with the Seeker and “The Herald” leading in the front.

The group of fighting Templars and Apostates were cleared from the road ahead which lead to their destination of a little hamlet called the Crossroads. By all reports, it was a tiny village barely worthy of even being called that, but due to its position (and that fact that Redcliffe was unreachable at the moment), it had become a sanctuary for refugees and the wounded.

A chantry mother had sent word to Haven asking for help with protection and supplies. Apparently, she’d even asked for the Herald to come himself. They’d all agreed it was an excellent chance to get word out about their newly formed band of do-gooders and let the people get a look at Maxwell Trevalyn, the freshly dubbed Herald of Andraste.

Varric wasn’t too sure if it was true, but he’d also seen too much shit throughout the years to rule it out completely. Regardless of whatever lofty title they were trying to burden him with, Maxwell still looked like a scared kid who just happened to be in the wrong place at the right time. However, the way he worked hard and silently accepted leadership despite being completely out of his element reminded Varric of Hawke in their early days - if he were tamer and had been raised as a pampered nobleman, that is.

The point was, Varric had taken one look at the kid and known he wasn’t going to be going home anytime soon. This Maxwell was going to make a name for himself and spawn a tale for the ages, he was sure - if he had the right kind of people watching out for him. He was getting too old for this shit and wanted to go home, but he felt like this kid was going to need someone in his corner. And this whole situation felt off in so many ways that he’d probably feel guilty if he did try to leave.

So that's how he found himself traveling around the godforsaken Hinterlands -  saddle sore, sunburnt and with a newfound hatred of bears - towards the beginning of their adventure. At first glance, this was simply a goodwill quest - show up and shake some hands, pass out food, kiss a few babies - but that group of apostates and templars that had been blocking the road were troubling. Sadly, he knew who to blame for it.

When the Crossroads came into view, he finally realized how much they were needed here. The chantry mother hadn’t mentioned how dire it really was or he suspected they would have sent help earlier. The people walking around were gaunt and dirty, many of them sporting bruises or missing limbs. They all looked severely malnourished, more so than the usual peasant. The moans and screams from the wounded were near-constant, adding to the practically visible cloud of desperation over the village. Add a bit more sewage stench and some unreasonably large rats and it would be just like good old Darktown.

They were able to spot the bright plumage of the chantry members working with the wounded and quickly made their way over to them. Villagers watched them with dawning hope in their eyes. A few of them started to cry and some of the children had even begun to cheer.

This. This was why Varric kept putting his own ass on the line all the time.

While Maxwell and Cassandra spoke to the chantry mother, Varric and Solas helped pass out the goods to the villagers. Soon enough, the pain in the ass bear that had attacked them earlier was chopped to bits and passed out among everyone to be cooked for the evening meal. Blankets and soaps, grain, and potions were all tearfully accepted by the people he handed them to. He may not be a very good man, but the joy he found in helping these people assured him that at least he wasn’t a bad one.

He was just handing off the last of the goods when Maxwell strides over, the weathered mother walking behind him imperiously.

“Everyone, this is Mother Giselle. She has some interesting news,” Maxwell grins, practically bouncing on his heels.

“Is it that everyone here is standing on death's doorstep? Because we noticed,” Varric drawled.

He was technically Andrastean, but that didn’t mean he let corrupt clergy off easy.

Her only tell that the words hit was a slight tick in her jaw as she nodded once.

“The situation here is deplorable, however, with the status of things we were unsure of where to ask for aid. I took a chance when I heard the hands of the Divine were involved in your “Inquisition.”

“And we are happy to help,” Cassandra stated as she rejoined the party. Her raised eyebrow towards Varric was something he’d long ago interpreted to mean behave .

“Yes, well,” Maxwell cleared his throat. “Mother Giselle says that another fell from a rift. A woman, no visible marks though.”

“An abomination perhaps?” Cassandra muses, standing straighter and placing a light hand on her sword.

“She appears to be a regular woman, free of magic or any signs of corruption. She fell from the rift and beyond a few broken bones and a few odd quirks here and there, nothing seems off about her,” Mother Giselle answers with a weary sigh. The way that she’d said ‘odd quirks’ like just mentioning them gave her a headache made Varric want to meet this woman very much.

The mother waved them away like annoying gnats soon after, with instructions to ask around for information on the area and what they could do to help. He supposed it was too much to expect her to already know that kind of (extremely important) information.

Thankfully, they found a soldier called Corporal Vale that seemed more informed and actually cared about taking care of the people there. Between him and a few others that piped in their opinions, the party discovered that what the people of the crossroads needed most right now was food and protection from the increasingly cold nights. They’d get a nice reprieve with the supplies that they’d brought from Haven, but that still wouldn’t be enough.

“I heard ye’re wanting to be put to work. I reckon I have a thing or two for ya,” a man called out as he strode towards them. They had just been discussing where to go from here, so anything was helpful.

“Of course, good sir. How may we assist you?” Maxwell plastered on his charming court smile, which seemed to have little effect on the man. Not that surprising considering the fellow looked as rugged and of the land as they come, and Maxwell reeked of privilege.

He grunts and looks over their little band as though he found them wanting, but good enough for now. His gaze only showed a sliver of appreciation when they landed on Cassadra (how original), then he seemed to meet Varric’s eyes straight on as though he assumed that he was really in charge.

“The goods that you brought us will help for a few days, but we’ll need more if we’re to recover enough to get back on our feet. Our lass Crystal says there’s a flock of rams over the hill. We’ve been unable to do any hunting what with the fighting all about so we’d appreciate if you brought in a few.”

“Of course,” Maxwell nods. “And you seem to know Crystal well?”

“Aye, I’m the mayor of this little corner. Know all my people. Whatever that daft old mother has been filling your head with needs to be ignored. Crystal is just a sweet and quiet lassie doing her best.”

“Oh, yes of course. We simply wanted to meet her.”

“After the hunting, if you please. She’s one of the ones that's been giving her rations to the little ones and I’ll not have her interrogated on an empty stomach.”

This Crystal must be quite the woman to inspire such loyalty despite her origins, Varric muses.

He can tell Maxwell has more questions, but with a few whispered words (orders) from Cassandra, they head off to hunt.

****

It was dark by the time they made it back and The Crossroads already appeared refreshed. There was a massive bonfire in the middle of the road where numerous pots and spits were working overtime to prepare the food they’d brought earlier. Kids were running around screaming and laughing as their parents watched with obvious relief. A few had even set up some rickety old instruments nearby to liven the place as they celebrated their newfound hope.

Several villagers rushed to greet their wagon and relieve them of the burden. They’d easily hunted down ten whole rams, stopping when it seemed like it would be enough to feed them for a few days and have enough left to preserve.

Varric wished there was more he could do at the moment, but he promised himself he’d write a few letters once they got back to Haven. A few favors called in and a bit of coin spread around and he’d have this little Hamlet healed in no time. And best of all, if he did it using the right channels, no one would know that Varric and his cursed bleeding heart was responsible for it.

Cassandra and Maxwell got pulled into a conversation with the Mother and the mayor (who had finally introduced himself as Giles) that Varric ignored as unimportant while he observed everyone else instead.

They already seemed in awe of Maxwell, sneaking glances his way with eyes shining with admiration. A few whispered words here and there would make today’s rescue seem more romantic than passing out a few slabs of dead sheep. It was always amazing watching the beginning of a legend be born.

His eyes flitted from one person to the next, all of them looking fairly similar as lower class humans tend to do. The sun-burnt skin, hunched backs, callused hands. The men smiling with three teeth left and the women looking haggard and drained after at least fifteen pregnancies.

It wasn’t until a couple of men moved to the side that he noticed the lone figure in the back.

At first glance, she was just as average as the rest. Peasant clothing without a shred of adornment anywhere. Injured somehow, as she had her left arm in a linen sling.  Normal brown hair and eyes, pale skin, thin lips. But something was telling him to take a second look, so he did. And then he began to observe the little things. The way that her skin was free of marks except for a few freckles, no sun-burnt patches, and semi-clean like she at least made an attempt to wash up here in the wilderness.

Her hair was basically average brown and pulled into a no-nonsense braid, but it was so long it reached her waist and when it caught the light of the fire it shone with a fiery copper highlight, as though to hint at hidden depths. Her eyes glinted like amber, big and trained on his party with just as much wonder as the rest of them. He thought they rather reminded him of Halla eyes. He didn’t believe a woman would find that complimentary though, so he’d try to think of something else.

Her lips were thin but appeared soft and kissable (where the fuck did that thought come from?). She smiled a little when she looked at Cassandra, and he noticed she had some of the whitest teeth he’d ever seen, bright and straight. A full set, too. Even he was missing one after a brawl a few years ago.

And that body! Andraste’s ass, he hadn’t seen a body like that on a human female outside of brothels. He’d bet that before she’d been forced to essentially starve she’d been voluptuous , but even now she was a good handful. Peasants never had this much meat on their bones, so that was his first hint that she was not like the rest. She was short, boasting only an inch or two above him, but he thought that maybe added to the appeal.

Those tits looked like they were trying their best to burst out of that ill-fitting dress, and the backside wasn’t faring much better. And the way that her waist curved in before flaring out into hips made for a man to grab onto.

Shit.

He glanced down at his pants, grateful that between the darkness of night and the constriction of the leather, his growing problem shouldn’t be too obvious. He shook his head and went back to studying her.

Her most damning feature, however, was her hands. You could tell a lot about a person by their hands. His were callused and scarred, with ink permanently staining his nails. The average human peasant’s hands were even worse, usually the color of leather from their life working outdoors and short jagged nails were practical.

Hers were so tiny he could easily fit them both in one of his hands and have room to spare. He could tell how soft they were even from here. Pink and not a spot in sight, with nails that were long and rounded, with flecks of pink on them like they’d once been painted (something he’d only seen done in Orlais).

A lady. And despite her small stature, definitely a human. Why was she here?

He crept through the crowd, trying to draw as little attention to himself as possible until he made his way to her side.

“It’s always us short ones that get stuck in the back, huh?”

He patted himself on the back mentally for such a smooth intro. She turned to him and he was struck by the emotion in her eyes. She was excited to see him ? She could be a fan, he supposed, but not many actually knew his face.

Up close, she was even more intriguing. He stood close enough for her breath to touch his cheek, and was amazed to smell clove and peppermint. Third hint that she wasn’t from around here, as human peasants always smelled like mead and rotting teeth.

He let his gaze travel over her, mostly to gauge her reaction and slightly because he couldn’t keep his eyes away from the massive mounds of flesh trying to burst from her borrowed dress. She blushed sweetly, making him feel like a lecher for a moment, but she didn’t seem to mind him looking.

Interesting.

Just as he was about to lay it on thick, Maxwell found them and drew her into a conversation. It turned out that his hunch was right and she wasn’t from around here. In fact, she was the one they’d been told about. The other “Fade Walker.” She didn’t seem to be touched by the experience like Maxwell had been, but the fall from the rift had been what injured her.

Her voice when she talked to Maxwell was quiet and shy like she wasn’t sure they wanted to hear what she had to say. Her body language was like she was primed for flight the moment one of them made a wrong step, even as she practically begged for their help. In fact, she reminded him of the injured dove that Fenris had rescued once. Dog had injured the bird’s wing and Fenris had taken it in and patched it up. It had been a timid little thing, jumping over every sound. But it was sweet and would trill and coo whenever Fenris spoke to it.

Varric frowned as he listened to them talk and stood at her side as Solas healed her fractured wrist, feeling a strange sort of protectiveness well up inside him. The feeling itself wasn’t unfamiliar - he was protective of his friends, of his dumbass brother, of Bia - her . But he barely knew this woman.

Maybe it was just that she seemed so...vulnerable. So soft. Every emotion played out on her face like she just wore her heart out for everyone to see. Anyone with decent skill in observation could tell this was the sort of woman that you protect from the world. That you keep safe behind walls filled with love and laughter, flowers in her hair and children at her feet.

It had been a long time since Varric had ever seen such a woman. Had he ever?

Even with the reveal of her “knowledge,” he could tell that she’d only held the rest back out of fear. Either that or she was literally the best spy in all of Thedas.

When they’d finally left that evening, he’d thrown her the sending crystal on a whim. He’d been holding onto that to give to Maxwell, and they were not cheap or easy to come by. However, he’d noticed her anxious gaze following him as they walked away and had again felt that urge to protect. Anything could happen and they’d be gone for an entire week. He sincerely doubted she knew how to even hold a knife, let alone protect herself with one.

The nightly storytelling was to reassure himself as well as her. He was sure letting Crystal hear them talk would ease any worries she might have about traveling with strangers. And when she silently answered and let him talk, he knew it was still in her possession and everything seemed fine. If something happened, he hoped that she’d be able to figure out how to use it and alert him. He’d have the apostate elf figure some way to get back quickly since he had the look of someone who knew more than he let on.

****

A week flew by and their party was growing increasingly hopeful about Crystal’s “usefulness” to the inquisition. Varric had to grit his teeth and clench his fist to keep from hitting Solas every time he used that word in conjunction with her. “Useful.” Like she was an item instead of one those that they were meant to protect.

Her notes that she’d shared had been really good, however. They’d managed to close down the rebel camps and clear the roads, took down a creepy green demon thing, and gotten a decent amount of horses to tide them over until they completed Master Dennett’s tasks.

Maxwell had declared the night before that they would take Crystal with them when they left for Haven. Varric knew that once they got there he’d have to watch out for the Nightingale, but at least he felt better about leaving her in a place surrounded by people he semi-trusted while he fought the good fight. Why he felt like that was his responsibility to worry about, he still hadn’t quite figured out.

It had become a little clearer, however, when they’d finally reached the Crossroads again and there’d she’d been like a ray of sunshine waiting for him. Maybe this protectiveness over her was 85% his cock’s fault, he thought, his pants tightening as she neared.

She looked a lot healthier since their last visit, obviously having made good use of the rations they’d left. Her eyes were bright and full of genuine happiness, smiling up at him. She’d let her hair free today, and it fell in luscious waves to her waist. Her clothes were once again borrowed and ill-fitting, but obviously the nicest she had. If it was possible, it seemed even tighter than the last dress, her modesty being miraculously saved by a worn strip of leather around the bodice.

It was strange how he felt like he could breathe properly now that she was in his sight. Had he been that stressed before? What was it about this damned woman? There hadn’t been anyone that had stirred him this much since...her .

And she was so easy to talk to. She spoke mostly only after someone else had spoken first, but she took his flirting in stride and offered witty responses. But every reaction to his touch and heated gaze seemed genuine and refreshingly honest. No practiced teasing he was used to.

And much later that evening was when he realized he was in trouble.

With a capital fucking T.

Because he’d been teasing her with the shirtlessness and letting his hair down, he’d admit it. If he was going to share a room with her for the night he wanted to play a little. Her reaction to him was flattering. So no one could blame her if she’d been trying to tease him back.

And that had been his first instinct when he’d turned to face her standing in front of the fire. That she’d finally shown her true colors and was asking for it. Begging for it. He’d been one step away from throwing her onto the bed and making her scream.

Until he’d looked at her face and seen the genuine innocent embarrassment of a lady. It had taken everything in him to calm down and let her run past him towards the bed. The damage had already been done to his mind, though, as everything the chemise had revealed to him was imprinted there like a tattoo. The dusky rose nipples firmed by cold, every inch of unblemished skin begging for his mouth, the strange nakedness of her mound.

He was sure if he played his cards right he could have her. Say a few things that women like to hear, promise a bauble or two, and she would let him fuck her. He wasn’t a saint and he’d done it before.

But there was something about the way she looked at him with such...admiration. Maybe even a little wonder and, yes, even a little attraction. He’s seen it all before, of course. He’s Varric Tethras - famous author, the right hand of the Champion, and heavy player in the underworld. Having people offer themselves for a night was a regular occurrence, and he was silver-tongued enough to get anyone else he might want.

With her, he just couldn’t do that. Couldn’t watch the trust and admiration fade from her eyes. She probably wasn’t as “innocent” as she seemed, but she certainly wasn’t one of his usual types of paramours. She was the type you kept, the kind that could wrap themselves around your heart so tight you couldn’t exist without them. He’d been there before and didn’t think he could survive that again.

****

Varric couldn’t seem to stop his gaze from straying to the newest member of their crew as he spun a (only slightly embellished) tale to entertain them for the evening. He was used to his audiences gasping in shock or staring raptly with excitement. Instead, she was watching him with a smirk that tilted her pretty lips, like she knew he was full of crap and was letting him spew it all anyway. But even more captivating was the look in her eyes - warm and fond, dangerously so. Like all he had to do was say the right words for her to tumble into his arms.

It was a look that he was growing increasingly familiar with over the past few days as they traveled back to Haven. And the idea of talking her into his bed was also becoming a regular thing. No matter how many times he told himself no, how often he argued with his own damn self explaining all the perfectly sensible reasons he shouldn’t, it still floated around in there.

Three days of taking up the rear of the party so she and her giant nug would be protected in the middle were beginning to take its toll. Because back there he had a perfect view of her.

He could see when she was amazed and cooing over some new sight. When she giggled because her stupid nug stopped in the middle of a trail to eat a flower. When she and Maxwell would chat about art, something she seemed educated on. When she tried so hard to fight off her exhaustion, yawning and stretching her arms until he thought her shirt would finally pop open.

And that damned shirt. It was his , and she had no right to look so appealing in it. She hadn’t had enough clothing with her so he’d tossed some spares to her and he’s regretted it ever since. The pants stretched over her legs like a second skin, cupping her ass and luscious thighs. The shirt was made with a purposely low v on the front since that’s how he liked them. On her, it was damn near scandalous. Her cleavage was out there for everyone to see. She looked incredible . And he was suffering .

“I said what do you think, Varric ?”

The louder than necessary yell near his ear jolted him from his thoughts. He turned towards Cassandra, the annoyance on her face comfortingly familiar.

“Pardon, Seeker. I got lost in the story. Did you need something?”

“You finished the story at least ten minutes ago. We were now discussing arming Crystal,” Cassandra scoffed, her disgust with Varric’s apparent lack of awareness evident.

“Arming? What for?” He tried for nonchalance, the thought of sending her into battle raising his hackles.

“Protection, dwarf. I only have so many eyes and if we get ambushed there’s no guarantee we’ll be able to protect her completely. She says she’s never handled a weapon before. What should we start her with? A dagger, perhaps?” Cassandra stares at Crystal in thought.

The woman in question scrunches her nose. “I suppose so. It’s small enough that I could handle it, I guess. But actually stabbing someone?” she shivers.

“A dagger is handy to have on hand, of course. I’d prefer you to be farther away from any combat, though. Take up the rear with me,” he suggests. He'd rather her be somewhere he could keep an eye on her, and right at his side seemed like the best idea.

“Like a bow and arrow? I know for a fact I can’t pick up that monster of a crossbow.”

Varric chuckles, suddenly warming up to the topic. He didn’t want her fighting, true, but it would be good for her to be prepared.

“I have a regular bow I’ve been holding onto. I was going to see if someone back in Haven wanted it since it’s decent. Hold on.”

He grunts and stands up, walking over to his pony to rifle around the packs. He pulls out a medium-sized bundle in leather, unwrapping it as he walks back to her. He pulls out a bow and hands it to her to look at.

“Its a Dalish hunting bow. I think it was made for a kid. Compact enough for you, though. Woods sturdy. I restrung it myself. And I think the carvings are just birds, nothing religious,” Varric explains, hovering by her shoulder as she looks it over.

“You’ll teach me?” she asks softly, the beginnings of a smile tilting her lips.

“Anything you want, little dove.”

The words flew out of his mouth before he could stop them, his eyes meeting her’s as they wore matching shocked expressions.

She stared at him and he felt not for the first time that she could see every inch of his tarred soul...and somehow still felt like smiling at him?

Her grin was tiny and shy, but it was there, making him puff out his chest like a fool for pleasing her.

“You’re the best,” she said softly then turned back to coo more at her new bow.

He wasn’t. He knew he wasn’t the best. He wasn’t even good.

But she made him want to try.

****

Some questions you probably have now:

1. Why do you keep writing Giles like he's from Scotland? - I dunno either, bruh. He writes himself and he decided he liked the word lassie. But notice that he can sometimes string a whole sentance together perfectly normal. It's like that on purpose. He's hiding something, I'm sure of it. Who stands in the middle of the road all day long and just watches people. Suspicious.

2. Why is Varric always talking about tits and ass - he's a dude. 97% of their thought process comes from their dick. Real science numbers. Totally didn't make that up.

3. It doesn't make sense. How can he like her this much already? - You're seeing into Varric's confused brain right now. He doesn't know what's going on either. Sometimes it be like that.

4. I thought you weren't going to make Crystal some bad ass warrior chick? - I'm not. But it's also unrealistic to not be able to arm yourself somewhat in such a wild land. Varric's watching out, don't worry.

5. Why does he keep calling Bianca "Her"? - I think there's a lot of stuff that's going on in Varric's giant noggin. For him, the bow is a safe way to say the name. Keep her in his thoughts without really thinking of her. But thinking of her name when it applies to her the person makes him think of...well, her. Does that make sense? It's a mental health protection thing, because minds are curious and we all have strange quirks up there. Separating the two in his mind helps keep him sane.

ANYWAY, I hope you all enjoyed! PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE comment! Even just a couple words. I need to know how I'm doing so I can improve future chapters. I can't wait to delve more into these two.

[msbigredmachine]

Come What May - Part 1

Today was supposed to be the happiest day of her life. So why did she feel like she was making the biggest mistake of her life? Roman Reigns/OC/Tama Tonga

When You Left I Lost a Part of Me

She sighed wearily as she stared at herself in front of the mirror. Her red hair and make up were done immaculately; her white dress was a show-stealer. She was without a doubt the most beautiful woman in the world right now, and on what was possibly the most important day of her life. She was about to be wed to a beautiful, amazing man. She was going to be married in a beautiful ceremony, the kind she’d always dreamed of having when she was a little girl.

So why she feel like shit? Why did everything feel so wrong?

Because she wanted another man standing beside her at the altar.

Roman Reigns.

Ashley could safely say that she’d never known love until she met him, a long time ago at the WWE’s then work in progress, the Performance Center. He was a budding up and coming Superstar, she was a recently hired photographer assigned to make the talent look good. A friendship at FCW soon morphed into a full-fledged romance. They moved up to the main roster at the same time, which only added fuel to the raging passion between the couple. It was a beautiful relationship between them. She didn’t think she could have been any happier with the direction her life was taking. Her career was greater than it had ever been. Things were going smoothly in her life and she was head over heels in love. With Roman by her side, everything was right with the world.

When, all of a sudden, he sustained a long-term hernia injury, the crisis began. Ashley did her best to take care of him while balancing her work life, but in Roman’s eyes she wasn’t doing enough. They started arguing more and more. To him, she had abandoned him; to her, he’d become a one-man pity-party. He began to treat her like dirt and take her for granted. Little tiffs mutated into full-out battles. Then one evening, everything imploded. Things that should never have left their mouths were screamed in the heat of the moment. He broke up their five-year relationship; told her to leave, and so she did. Devastated, Ashley took it a step further and asked for her release from WWE. Though it was a dream come true to be working for the company whose product she’d avidly watched since she was a child, she thought it was time to move on elsewhere. She couldn’t bear to be around Roman, not after the way he treated her. She relocated to Japan after accepting a job offer from NJPW, and once she settled down, she threw herself into her work, determined to move on with her life. By the time Roman returned to action four months after their break-up, she was long gone.

She was on a short vacation back in the U.S. the following year when she got a call from her good friend Big E to come hang out and catch up with her old WWE gang. If she had known Roman would be there, she would have declined the invitation. It was bittersweet seeing her ex-boyfriend again. He looked good, really good. At first, they were civil with each other, both acting like nothing romantic had ever occurred between them. But mutual attraction quickly prevailed. Old feelings sprang up again. All it took was five minutes alone with him and she was back in his bed that night, locked away with him in his hotel room. Both realized how badly they’d missed each other and more than made up for lost time. However, there was one big problem with the blissful reunion.

Ashley was engaged to someone else.

Tama was one of the most amazing men she’d ever met. Sure, he cussed a little too much, but he was charming, attentive and made his interest in her clear from the get-go. She thought it unwise to begin a relationship with one of the talent, especially after her unfavorable experience back in the States. But Tama was the flame to her moth. He was a man who knew what he wanted, and it so happened that he wanted her. She couldn’t resist; he was very attractive and very persuasive, and she fell for him, fell hard. He proposed nine months after their first date, and she never thought she could be this happy again. Finally, she would be with a man who treated her like a queen. But all of that changed in one night back on home soil, with one kiss, one night of passion with the man she never truly got over.

The countdown to the wedding didn’t stop Roman and Ashley from going ahead with their affair, and both did a very good job at hiding it for a long time. Every trip she made to America was to be back in the Samoan’s arms. Every trip he made to Japan, he always made sure they hooked up. Whatever they could do to get together, they did, and the thrill of possibly getting caught held a dangerous appeal. But it wasn’t long before one party would get disillusioned and forced to realize that they could not carry on like this. With the overbearing guilt, and the number of bridges that would be destroyed when this affair leaked out looking into the dozens, something had to give.

And it did.  

“We can’t do this anymore,” Roman spoke, not moving from his spot on the bed in the Atlanta motel, the venue of their latest rendezvous.

She sat upright against the headboard. “What are you talking about?”

“This,” he finally turned to face her as he gestured between the two of them. “Us. People are starting to talk.”

“Since when did you care what people said about you?”

“Never have. But this time they have a point,” he told her. “We both know that what we’re doing is wrong. You’re engaged to one of my good friends, a guy I consider to be family.”

“And you just remembered this now?” she said with annoyance. “We’ve been at it for months and you never even brought it up. Why the sudden change of heart, Reigns?”

It always brought a smile to his face whenever she referred to him by his last name. Not today, though. “I’m tired of pretending as if I’m not doing something wrong, Ash. Do you know how hard it is looking him in the eye every time he talks about you, which, by the way, is every frickin’ time? He’s happiest when he’s talking about you. Tama loves you more than he loves his own life. This will shatter him.”

She crawled across the bed towards him. “But I love you.”

“You love Tama,” Roman reasoned.

“I love you more!” she insisted, tears filling her eyes. She reached out to cup his face, but he grabbed her wrists and slowly lowered them. “Ashley, listen to me,” he said to her, his voice stern.

Huffing cynically, she crossed her arms. “What? What do you wanna say, huh? We go our separate ways and act like nothing happened? Again? Is that your master plan? We tried that before and look where it landed us!” She pointed at the bed.

He shrugged. “Yeah, well, I’m done with this. Whatever this is.” He took a deep breath, bracing himself for her ire. “It’s been a total waste of my time, so how about we quit while we’re ahead.”

If he had punched her in the face, it would have hurt her less. The air in her lungs thinned. She was not sure she’d heard him right. Suddenly he was sitting too close to her. She got off the bed, which was somewhat of a mistake, because her legs felt like jelly the second she stood. “Waste of your time?” she repeated. “Are you fuckin’ kidding me?”

“I didn’t stutter.” He tried to be aloof, to be mean to her. But his heart was already breaking as he watched her contorting face. She was about to cry. But he had to carry on for both their sakes. “I just want to end this and get on with our lives before it’s too late.”

The shock, the hurt that had filled her eyes seconds ago suddenly broke into white-hot anger. “Before it’s too late?” she spat. “Do you have any idea what you’ve done to me? I was over you, Roman! I was in Japan with Tama, perfectly content with my life! Then I come back to America for a hot minute and you waltz back into it and give me this bullshit hope that we can be together again. And now you wanna throw it back in my face? You selfish prick!” She was shaking. Her nostrils flared and her dainty hands were curled into angry fists. “You’re right, it is too late, ‘cause I fell in love with you all over again! So what are you gonna do now?”

Her harsh words pierced his heart like a poisoned dagger. At a loss for what else to do, he closed the distance between them, taking her face in his hands. She tried to move away but the firm softness of his touch held her in place. Then again, she was always powerless against him. No man ever made her feel the way he did. No other man could ever.

“You think I don’t know how badly I fucked up?” whispered Roman. “I think about it every damn day. I’d give anything to go back in time and make shit right between us. But it’s too late, eighteen fuckin’ months too late. I can’t begrudge you for wanting to move on with your life after what I put you through. I don’t deserve a second chance with you. But at the same time I can’t sit here and pretend that I can have you the way I really want. I can’t. We can’t, because it’s just wrong. So here’s what you’re gonna do, okay, baby?”

A lone tear slipped out of his eye, his usually strong voice cracked with emotion. “You’re gonna go back to Japan and be with Tama. You’re gonna marry him and forget about me. You’re gonna settle down and have lots of children with him, just like you always wanted. Promise me. Promise me!” he repeated fiercely when she started to shake her head. Roman was desperately determined to stand his ground. He forced himself to ignore the tears that streamed silently down her face as her big brown eyes begged him not to do it, not to twist the knife in anymore. But he wouldn’t be wavered. He couldn’t. It had to be this way for both their sanities.

“Come what may,” Ashley reminded him, her tone on the verge of desperation. “Remember? ‘Come what may ‘Ash, you and I will always be together’. You said that yourself! You promised!”

He nodded his head slowly. He remembered. That was when life was still normal, before he had ruined everything that had been going well for him. “Well, things change,” he countered evenly, almost serenely, as if resigned to his self-inflicted fate. Then he lifted her hand, showing her the finger where the engagement ring was nestled. She removed the hand from his, placed it on his face and kissed him deeply, passionately.

“Don’t leave me, Ro,” she whispered into his mouth, sobbing. “I love you.”

Roman’s heart was about to completely shatter. “Then you’ll do the right thing,” he said, pressing his forehead against hers. “If you love me Ashley – if you really love me – you’ll let me go.”

So far she had followed his orders. She had come this far. But the further she went with the façade, the deeper she felt guilty over Tama. She’d never told him about her cheating. He never seemed to catch on either, and numerous times she wished he had, that he’d caught her and dumped her, since she didn’t have the courage to tell him herself. She had sleepless nights leading up to today. But unlike other brides-to-be it was not out of excitement. It was because she knew this was wrong. This wedding was wrong. This whole damned relationship was wrong. She loved Tama, and she had fallen in love with him. But Roman was her everything. Her mind, her heart, her body and soul belonged to him. She wanted no one else. But she couldn’t have him. Not anymore. And it was tearing her apart.

“Ashley?”

Startled out of her reverie, she turned away from the mirror to dab at her tears. Her mother could not see her like this.

“Ah, tears of joy,” Joanna cooed, rubbing Ashley’s shoulders. Her brows furrowed as she took in her daughter’s red-rimmed eyes. “Or at least, I hope they are.”

Ashley couldn’t respond. She never knew how to lie to her mother. Sending her mother a smile through the mirror, she nodded.

“You sure? You’re not having second thoughts?” Joanna knew all about the Reigns boy, about how much her daughter loved him, and hoped that he was not the reason for her crying. It was much too late for her to be thinking twice.

“Of course not,” Ashley croaked in a voice that sounded nothing like hers. “I’m fine. I’m just…nervous.”

Joanna nodded her head. “I understand. I felt the exact same way when I married your father. Tama is a good boy, sweetheart. He’s been so good to you. I know you’ll treat him the same way.”

Ashley bit down on her lip, forcing back more tears. “Yeah.”

Joanna quickly freshened up Ashley’s make-up and helped her smooth down her dress. “You’re so very beautiful,” she gushed, cupping her daughter’s face. “This is going to be a day you’ll never forget.”

Through the crack of the large oak door the faint traces of the church organ could be heard playing. Her father was outside waiting to lead her down the aisle. Everyone was at the ceremony; the Tongas, her family, including all her friends at WWE and Tama’s boys from Japan. Even some former Superstars showed up for the wedding, which Ashley thought was a nice gesture.

Roman, of course, was absent. Dean had told her he wasn’t coming to the wedding. A bad case of the flu was his excuse. But Ashley knew better, as did Dean, but it was not his place to say anything.

Taking a final look in the mirror, Ashley squared her shoulders and took another big, deep breath. As she stepped out of the room, she threw all thoughts of Roman Reigns out of the window, and prepared to embrace the new life she was about to embark on as Mrs. Tama Tonga.

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

Chapter title from the song “We Belong Together” by Mariah Carey. It’s a 6-part story so stay tuned for more! 

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