#sure it’s on a banner but I drew it so hush

[zomboivex]

─────────── ⋆⋅☆

Are you looking to join an interactive roleplay server for Tokyo Debunker? Then look no further!

Tokyo Debunker RP is a server geared towards those who are looking for an interactive story involving canon characters and OC’s alike.

We have a few canon character slots currently open, as well;

⋆｡°✩ Frostheim

Kaito Fuji ✩

Lucas Errant

⋆｡°✩ Vagastrom

Alan Mido ✩

Sho Haizano

⋆｡°✩ Jabberwock

Haru Sahara ✩

Towa Otonashi ✩

⋆｡°✩ Sinostra

Romeo S. Lucci ✩

⋆｡°✩ Hotarubi

Zenji Kotodama ✩

⋆｡°✩ Obscuary

Edward Hart ✩

⋆｡°✩ Mortkranken

Yuri Isami

⋆｡°✩ Staff

Professor Hyde

Professor Dante ✩

Professor Moby ✩

Professor Nicolas ✩

Please note

Any character that has a ✩ next to them are characters that are currently being temporarily played by other members and would be willing to give the role up if someone were to come and take the role (and provides a good application).

Server Information

We require that, in order to join, you go through an age verification process. This includes showing us a picture of the date on your ID with all other sensitive information blocked out and a strip of paper with your Discord Username.

You have 24 hours upon joining to send your age verification process.

Once you have been age verified, you will have exactly 1 week to apply for either a canon character or submit an OC application.

Failure to do so will result in your removal of the server.

We do hope to see you there!

☆⋅⋆ ───────────

[boyardee-znuts]

you stumble across dan heng in heat. dan heng x fem reader wc: 2k content warning(s): nsfw, hsr spoilers mdni banner by cafekitsune

“Stupid girl,” Dan Heng hissed. The grip he had on your neck was tight, and you squealed helplessly as he kept you in a vulnerable, bent-over position on his desk. Your stomach lurched inside of you as the man drew his hips back, right before snapping it roughly up against yours.

Your legs shook as you gripped onto the edge of his desk. Dan Heng refused to let up on his pace, thrusting wildly into you as if he was into heat. Well—he was, and you’d made the mistake of wandering onto him when he had explicitly warned you to stay away.

“You never know when to keep that nose of yours out of trouble, don’t you?” His fingers curled into the flesh of your neck, and you choked out, hot breath fogging up the surface of his desk. “You just had to fall right into my lap. This is all your fault, got it?”

You moaned mindlessly. His cock was disgustingly thick, the inhuman nature only so much more evident now that you were aware of what a hormone-scrambled, lust-crazed dragon he was. The bright flush on his face was a clear indicator of his heat, and the singular thing the man had on his mind was to fuck you and fill you up with his cum until you’d be brainlessly bred.

“Sorry!! I’m- I’m sorry-,” you eked out. His dark eyes flashed dangerously, and you cried out when you felt him fuck into you harshly. His drooling tip kept invading your tight walls over and over again, molding your sweet cunt into the shape of his swollen cock.

“Are you really?” He angled his thrusts slightly, and you recoiled onto his desk, clawing futilely at the polished surface. “Doesn’t matter now. I’m going to make sure you fully understand the consequences of your actions. That’s only right, don’t you think? Take responsibility.”

You swallowed thickly, panting like a dog. Your entire body felt so hot, like the man had lit your skin on fire. Heat trickled and pool, coiling and twisting like an angry snake deep inside of your stomach. Your cunt drooled at the friction, the arousal building up inside of you making your mind go blank. 

All you could think about was one thing, and that was the man fucking you from behind.

“So rough…!” You gasped desperately, the heat stifling your breathing. “You’ll break me…!”

“Good. I want to break you. That’s what you get for teasing me. You underestimated me, didn’t you? You underestimated just how much I could do to you…” You shuddered when you heard him laughing darkly, his pace quickening just a hair. You let out small “ah- ah- ah-”s matching with his thrusts, and your gut curled when you could hear all the lewd, sloppy noises your pussy was making.

He lowered his head a little, hushing his voice so you could barely hear him over the wet sounds of your so-called lovemaking. “You hear that? That’s all you. Am I making you feel good? I am, aren’t I? Don’t lie to me. I can feel that cunt of yours squeezing up all around me. Having a cock stuffed up in your pussy feels good, doesn’t it? Do you like it when I move inside you like that?”

You nodded incoherently. His words were swimming through your ears, and the knot building up like a welt inside of you was threatening to break any minute now. You wondered if anyone would stumble in upon the two of you, going at it like animals in the distant corner of the archives, your moans shamelessly echoing around for Dan Heng to swallow up greedily.

“It feels good…!” Your back arched as he abused your sweet spots, cock rubbing endlessly up against your warm, slick walls. “‘M gonna cum- I can’t control myself…!”

He smiled to himself. He knew he wasn’t thinking straight, his mind overrun with the carnal need to claim you, to fill you up, to completely make you his. But seeing you bent over with his dick stuffed inside you, knowing that he was the one making you feel this good, knowing that he was the one who could see your naked body and do as he pleased to it, only made his animalistic instincts grow worse. Dan Heng wanted to keep you like this forever, moaning and mindless, pussy stretched out by his stupidly big cock, with nothing but him on your mind.

“Are you gonna cum?” He teased. “Gonna cum on my cock? Good, good, that’s how it should be. My cock’s the only thing that could make you cum. I’m gonna fuck you so good, fill you up with my cum, to the point that having sex with anybody else won’t even feel good anymore.”

He paused, laughing sardonically to himself once more before staring down at you with sickeningly lovestruck eyes. “Not that I’d let you have sex with anyone else after I’ve had you like this.”

You shook your head, pushing your hips back up against him eagerly. “D-Don’t want anyone else… Just wanna have you- Only want you-”

Ah.

The possessive streak inside of Dan Heng swirled precariously. Did you realize the things you were saying to him? The way they made him feel? Here he was, stuck between balancing his respect for you versus the inhuman lust that was racking his body, and all you had to say to that was to fuel the flames even further. He bit the inside of his cheek, his territorial instincts going wild.

“You’re already playing a dangerous game with me,” he growled. “Don’t you dare make it worse.”

You moaned and clawed at his desk. He kept thrusting into you wildly, consumed with the need to claim you as his. His grip would undoubtedly leave marks on your neck, and yet being manhandled and pinned down on his desk like this only aroused you further.

“I’m telling the truth…,” you mewled. Dan Heng faltered for a moment, his breath catching.

Did you upset him? You wanted to look back at him and see, but before you could say anything, the man let go of you. You moved to turn your neck, but Dan Heng gruffly grabbed at one of your thighs and lifted it, forcing you to spread your legs further for him to thrust deeper inside of you.

“Ah- Wait, wait- You’re going so deep-!” You cried out. You slumped against the desk for dear life, clinging onto it as Dan Heng began fucking into your hole at a brutal new angle.

“Take it- Take it all-!” He commanded loudly. “I told you not to tease me… You’re mine now. I’ll make you mine!”

You nodded, hanging your head. You could only stay there, sandwiched helplessly between his strong body and the thick desk with no choice but to take his dick. He fucked you hard and rough, leaving your pussy throbbing and aching with need. It was too good, enough to make your head spin and your thoughts to waver and slip. 

“More, more- Fuck me more, Dan Heng!” You pleaded needily. “Want to cum on your cock- Want you to fill me up…! I’m yours- I’m yours, I’m yours, I’m yours-”

“Yeah, that’s a good girl,” he breathed. The grip on your thigh was firm, keeping you stuck there as he slid his dick in and out of you. “C’mon, cum for me now. Let everyone know who’s making you feel this good. Ruin yourself for me.”

You whimpered, throwing your head back and letting the physical pleasure consume you. So good, it was so good. All you could think about was how good it felt to be stretched out all over his cock, your pussy sucking him in deeper and deeper, milking him selfishly, wanting to be stuffed to the brim with his cum until it’d leak out of your fluttering hole and down your legs… 

The knot swirling and tightening in your stomach was on the verge of breaking, and you could feel your orgasm approaching closer and closer. Slick ran down your thighs, and your body felt ridiculously hot, spiraling on the edge of no control. Dan Heng gritted his teeth, snapping his hips up against you ruthlessly, right into the spot that made your cunt clench up around him. You were taking him so well, letting him mate with you so obediently, even if this whole thing was a mess of your own making.

He slammed right into your sweet spot, and you tensed up noticeably against his frame. Your vision started to blur and fade to white around the edges, stomach twisting in and dropping like you were on a roller coaster. “Cumming…! Dan Heng- More- I’m cumming, I’m cumming…!”

“Nngh…!” The man let out a strangled cry when your cunt clamped down on him like a vice, your orgasm washing over him. Seeing your face contort with pleasure and your body shaking under his touch made something in his brain snap, and Dan Heng gripped onto you like a ragdoll as he thrusted wildly up into your overstimulated cunt. He ate up all of your wounded cries, pure instinct overwhelming his body like a drug for a few moments before his own arousal overtook him and knocked out all of his senses.

You gripped onto the table, your mind slammed to a complete stop. “D-Dan Heng…! Ah- Cum inside me!”

He clenched his jaw, forcing his hips up and his cock as deep as it could go inside of you. You moaned, your legs threatening to give out from underneath you. He pumped you full of his cum, his heavy balls tightening up against your entrance as he coated every inch of your walls white. You shuddered when you could feel his scalding hot semen pile up inside of you, rushing straight into your womb and gushing out from your hole. Dan Heng tried to keep as much of it as he could inside of you, using his cock as a plug of sorts, and you buried your head in your hands as you forced yourself to take in deep breaths. 

The desk kept you grounded as an anchor of sorts, and when the world slowly stopped spinning and your thoughts began returning back to you, Dan Heng carefully let go of his tight grip on you. You slumped down onto the floor, sticky loads of cum dripping out of you and forming a small puddle in between your legs.

Dan Heng couldn’t keep his eyes off of you, even though shame prickled at his body. Did he do that to you? Did he really say all of those things towards you? He didn’t know whether to hate himself for losing control as he did or to continue feeding his selfish needs, his cock still craving your soft, sweet pussy.

“Dan Heng…,” you quietly started. The man kept his face emotionless as you peered up at him, smiling at him sweetly as if to assuage his worries. Something tightened inside of his chest when he saw you grinning at him, as if he hadn’t fucked the living daylights out of you just seconds before and as if it wasn’t his cum that had flooded your walls.

You watched with curious eyes as his cock hardened up again, twitching against the cool air at the sight of you sitting before him. How good would it feel if he took you again? If he fucked you until you couldn’t walk or think? If he fucked you until the entire train knew who it was that was making you scream and lose your mind with pure pleasure? Dirty thoughts ran rampant in his body, the aftereffects of his heat still lingering all over him.

He swallowed, licking his dry lips as he motioned for you.

“Up. We’re not done yet.” The dragon’s eyes glowed dangerously with a hint of jade and gold. "We’re not stopping until I say so.”

Until he was sure he had made you his one and only mate.

gustav klimt: expectation

[roomwithanopenfire]

Six Sentence Sunday

Hi! Thanks for the tags @monbons and @artsyunderstudy!

I've actually been writing this week which means I finally feel like I can share again. Also peep the new banner, it matches the new green of the rest of my account. (Just don't look too closely at the flower, i drew that really quickly and i think the green ruined it but oh well).

I have some ideas that I want to do for the COC! Thinking of ideas for short fics has been really fun and refreshing. I don't have anything that feels solild enough to share yet, but just know i've got something cooking.

And I've been writing (oh so slowly) more of The Way We Are, mine and @alexalexinii 's COBB. I hope to post the 3rd chapter soon! Here's a snippet from that (i honestly have no idea which parts i've shared before, so if you've seen this already shhhh no you didn't):

“Can I get you anything?” comes a voice from the kitchen. I turn to find the redhead who opened the door standing with a glass of dark red blood in her hand. My fangs itch behind my gums. Human blood. “No, thank you,” I say, voice clipped. “You sure?” she asks again. “Could get you water? Blood? Tea?” “What kind of blood is that?” I ask, words leaving my mouth in a terrified rush. (It’s a stupid question—I know it’s human.) “Not sure,” she clicks her tongue. “I think it’s… B positive? I can check if you have allergies.”

Next chapter i start throwing the OCs I made for this fic into the mix. i hope people like them!

Tags and Hellos:

@angelsfalling16 @aristocratic-otter @arthurkko @beastmonstertitan @blackberrysummerblog

@bookish-bogwitch @brendughh @brilla-brilla-estrellita @cccloudsss @cutestkilla

@drowninginships @emeryhall @facewithoutheart @fiend-for-culture @hertragedyconnoisseur

@horsesarenotdeer @hushed-chorus @iamamythologicalcreature @ileadacharmedlife @larkral

@m1ndwinder @nausikaaa @noblecorgi @onepintobean @prettygoododds

@raenestee @rbkzz @rimeswithpurple @run-for-chamo-miles @shrekgogurt

@skeedelvee @supercutedinosaurs @sweetronancer @talentpiper11 @thewholelemon

@valeffelees @you-remind-me-of-the-babe

[tarnishedxknight]

Vayne was baiting Drace.

Her heart lurched and, with little thought, Gylfie moved toward Vayne - careful not to draw attention to how she placed herself between him and Drace. Her back turned to both her and Gabranth, her head angled away from Bergan, Zargabaath, and her brother. Doing her best to ignore the way her heart pounded as she took sight of Gramis's body once more.

"Vayne," she said quietly - low enough for only him to hear, as he angled his head at her curiously. "Should we not have them investigate? I fear--"

He took hold of her arms as if to ground her. "The Senate has been arrested, you have--"

"I am with child," she interrupted, still keeping her voice hushed as her heart faced faster. As shock briefly flashed across Vayne's face before he masked it. "At least allow me to keep one of the Judge Magisters with me. I do not--"

Her ruse worked.

Vayne nodded as he retained his cool composure once more, and drew her to his side as he turned his attention back to the Judge Magisters. "Bergan, Zargabaath, I want you to go to Bur-Omisace and bring Larsa home," he ordered. "Drace--"

"Drace, you are to come with me," Gylfie cut in, and glanced at Vayne with a subtle nod. I can watch her, she wanted to say, but he seemed to understand.

He simply nodded. "Very well. Gabranth, Ynarra, you both will stay here while we... figure out what to do next. Word will spread rapidly of my father's death, no doubt, and we must..."

Gylfie couldn't bear to listen to him much longer. She pulled away from him and quickly made her way for the hall. Passing two of the Judge Magisters she needed alive the most with a curt, "With me, Drace," and without stopping. She knew Drace would follow, as frustrated and furious as she may be with Vayne securely in power, but that was hardly the matter now. No, now she needed to reveal her hand, and make sure she would not lose someone who would be needed to secure a better future without her dear husband.

She remained silent even as she led the way to her study, and even as she closed and locked the door behind them. Her expression crafted and unreadable as she made her way to the large bay window, and stared up at the banners of Archadia and House Solidor. Her arms crossed over her chest in thought. Was this the right move? Would Drace even entertain the notion of believing her? Was it worth risking everything for this?

It had to be.

"You must exercise more restraint around Vayne," Gylfie said at last. "He was baiting you, Judge Drace. He intends to rid himself of any threat or competition for the throne, and you nearly let yourself get caught. And now, more than ever, I quite need you alive."

(( @disillusionedjudge for Gylfie's empress au!))

@disillusionedjudge

No. This would not stand. Drace could not abide this. Perhaps the elections for the position of Emperor in Archadia had favored House Solidor for lack of any real challengers for many generations, but even so, the people deserved to choose their leader. That was how it was done, that was the letter of the law, and for Vayne Solidor to waltz in, condemn the Senate before proper trial, and instantly name himself Emperor of Archadia before his father's corpse was even cold... was an absolute abomination of the law and an abuse of power. And then to vaguely suggest that Larsa was the only other successor, continuing this farce of a autocrat's succession instead of a democratic process and implying a veiled threat against a child...

She had no choice. But as Drace moved to reach for the hilt of one of her swords to make formal her charge against Vayne, she was utterly derailed both in movement and thought by Gylfie, Vayne's loyal wife - now Empress, apparently - stepping between them. Drace blinked and lowered her hand, standing by to see the result of this abrupt conversation between the two, since much of it was at a volume that made the Judge Magisters not privy to its content.

And then the orders came. Bergan and Zargabaath were to retrieve Lord Larsa from Mount Bur-Omisace. Gabranth and Ynarra were to remain to discuss things further with Vayne. And Drace... She... blinked again. What just happened? What had the Empress said to Vayne to cause him to abandon the tense conversation Drace had been holding with him? She did not want to leave. There was more to be done here, this... this was not... finished yet!

As it was said again, this time as the Empress passed her by, no doubt with assumption that she would fall into line and obey, Drace glanced from Gylfie to Vayne and back again. Her lips parted to speak but words would not come. What could she say? Even if she did not respect Vayne's newfound and self-proclaimed position as Emperor, to refuse a direct order from the Empress would be against the law on Drace's part.

With a frustrated and even angry groan that almost took the form of a growl by the end of it, Drace turned away from Vayne and dutifully obeyed Gylfie, following her to the woman's study. Her gaze briefly met Gabranth's as she left the throne room, but nothing could be said or done. They each had their orders, and for now, they must obey them.

But playing nursemaid to a spoiled Empress...

She slipped on her helm to hide her displeasure and wounded sense of justice.

Drace bore Judge Ynarra no love. For as long as she had known him, he had stood for everything that was wrong with and about the Empire. He would not only see Archadia stagnant and refusing to change its ways, but would drive those ways of violence and superiority even deeper. Drace did not know the man's daughter, but if she was loyal to Vayne as was he, then she knew well her type.

Except... once inside Gylfie's study, what came out of her mouth was anything but what Drace had expected. Out of respect, for they were now in private quarters, Drace slipped her helm off once more. "Baiting me? To what end?" As Gylfie finished her statement, her question was answered. Eliminate competition for the throne. She needs me alive... Implying that she would not still be alive had she continued with her course of action.

In essence, Gylfie had saved her life. What Vayne had wanted was all too clear to her now, laid bare and simple, and Drace felt like an utter fool for almost falling for it. "I see," she said darkly. "Then I owe you thanks, Your Highness, for saving me from myself. I will take greater care to keep myself in check in the future."

[navybrat817]

A Price to Pay

Pairing: Mob!Steve Rogers x Female Reader, Ransom Drysdale x Female Reader Summary: Steve demands retribution when Ransom crosses a line. Ransom offers you as payment. Word Count: Almost 2.9k Warnings: Dubcon/Noncon elements (do not read if that upsets you), blackmail, coercion, choking, swearing, talks of violence, forced cheating, Ransom is an asshole, mob!Steve Rogers (he’s a warning, okay?). A/N: Another old WIP completed! I began this in August of 2021. This will be connected to a future Bucky fic and I may expand on Steve's story if there is interest. ❤️ Beta read by the beautiful @little-diable and @sweeterthanthis, but any and all mistakes are my own. Banners by @maysdigitalarts and moodboard by yours truly. Please follow @navybrat817-sideblog for new fics and notifications. Please reblog or comment as it means the world!

Ransom Drysdale was the worst mistake you ever made. The man exuded arrogance, yet you were somehow attracted to his confidence. Maybe it was because yours wasn't strong enough at the time. His charm won you over, even as you tried to resist. He didn't strike you as the type who wanted a long-term relationship, but he convinced you to give him a chance. He swore you wouldn't regret it. 

"Best decision you'll ever make."

Fool me once, shame on you. 

Ransom didn't deserve you. You figured that out when you caught him in the first lie. You weren't supposed to hear his phone call as he watched the news. He wasn't usually that careless, as you would later find out.

At first you thought he cheated on you. It would have explained his hushed calls and random outings after you moved in. You almost wished he had been seeing someone else. That would have made it easier to walk away and never look back. 

"Yeah, I'm watching. Like I give a shit if his company falls or his wife leaves. Should've kept his dick in his pants. And you should've seen the stupid look on his face when I told him there were photos. I told him what would happen if he didn't wire the money. Fucker's paying for it now, isn't he?"

"... Ransom?"

"... Fuck. I'll call you back."

He brushed you off when you questioned him. He even tried to convince you that you were hearing things. He dropped the charade when he realized you weren't going to let it go. 

"Just can't let me have my fun, can you?"

You thought Ransom came from money, which he had growing up. Somewhere along the way his grandfather cut him off. He had to find more creative ways to keep his cash flow going - like blackmail. Trading secrets and exposing scandals when necessary were second nature to him. And he wasn't afraid to get his hands dirty. 

But he swore he'd stop when he saw your tears.

"I'm done, pumpkin. It was the last one. Cross my heart."

Fool me twice, shame on me. 

It was easier when you were blissfully unaware of the kind of man he truly was. The affectionate touches and gasps he drew from you couldn't wash away what he had done. He ruined lives just to keep his pockets full. And you knew in your heart he wouldn't let you go. Not because he loved you, but because you were a liability.

He made that clear when you caught him again and said you needed space.

"You're not leaving me."

You could barely walk by the time he was done fucking you that night. A sore reminder that crossing him wasn't a smart move. But he never raised a hand to you. He didn't leave visible scars. You carried them where no one could see. So why would your friends and family who were still around ever side with you? 

"I own you. Don't you ever fucking forget it."

You weren't completely helpless. You played your part and learned a few secrets of your own, like how Ransom's grandfather really died. You pieced together that Ransom was the one who killed him, but he still didn't get enough money in the will to satisfy him. 

He'll never be satisfied. 

It took time and careful planning to make sure you had enough money set aside to leave. He dipped into your main account, of course, but you had a rainy day fund from before you met him that he would never touch. You could have a fresh start and maybe expose him in the process. But you still felt like a coward. 

Was that why he chose to be with me? Because I'm weaker than him? 

"Pumpkin, where are you?" you heard as the front door opened. 

Glancing at the clock, you tried not to panic. He isn't supposed to be home yet. You quickly stashed your bag under the bed and swallowed the lump in your throat. "Coming!" you called back, smoothing out your dress and checking your reflection before you made your way downstairs to the study.

I can still leave tonight. I can even leave tomorrow. I'll be fine.

You took a deep breath before you entered the room, surprised to find two other men with Ransom. 

"There she is. Finally," Ransom said, a glass of scotch already in hand.

Your heart raced in your chest as you glanced at the man who sat across from Ransom. His broad body radiated power and strength, his presence dominating the entire room. And he wasn't even standing. You expected his gaze to be harsh when he looked at you, but his blue eyes softened the longer he stared. You had to look away after a minute. 

Your gaze landed on the figure beside him. The brunette looked just as intimidating as the blonde, his gaze cold. The corner of his lip tugged into a smile as he lifted his hand in a wave. It was a metal hand. 

"Relax. We won't bite. Well… I won't."

Ransom rolled his eyes, "Pumpkin, take a seat. We need to talk."

Nothing good ever happened when someone needed to talk. "About what?" you asked as you sat in the empty chair on the other side of Ransom.

"This is Steve Rogers and Bucky Barnes," he introduced, taking a sip of his scotch. "They're here on business."

You bit the inside of your cheek. You didn't want to judge these men, but you knew it had to be something shady. Nothing Random did was ever pure.

Steve shifted in his chair to face you. "Care to tell me your name, sweetheart? You don't strike me as the type who likes to be called 'pumpkin'."

You avoided Ransom's subtle glare as you cleared your throat and said it. 

"It’s nice to meet you, though I wish the circumstances were better," he smiled gently. "For the record, we already know who you are. I know where your friends and family live. I know about that bakery you like to go to once a week. You treat yourself to a specialty donut. They're good."

You wished you had a glass of water to quench your dry throat. "You've been watching me?"

"It's part of my job to know people. Allies. Enemies. We also know you've been living here for some time. Before I get into why exactly we're here, I do have to ask even though I know the answer. Are you aware of what Ransom does?"

Ashamed, you merely nodded as your fingers twisted in your lap.

Steve's gaze was sympathetic as he continued. “Are you also aware that Ransom recently got into some trouble?"

You spared Ransom a quick glance. "What kind of trouble?"

"Doesn't matter," he said dismissively. 

"It does matter," Steve said firmly, leaning forward in his chair. "It matters when your mouth gets one of my men killed."

Your stomach dropped as you took in Steve and Bucky's angry expressions. "You got someone killed?"

"Idiot got himself killed. Not my fault or my problem."

"He was a kid," Steve argued.

It earned him a shrug in response. "You brought the kids in, Rogers. Both of you knew what he was getting into. Don't blame me for his blood being on your hands."

The callousness shocked you, despite what you knew about Ransom. "How can you say that? How can you think so little of people?"

"Oh, it gets better," Bucky said sarcastically before Ransom could answer.

"What do you mean?" you asked nervously. 

"I told you. He got one of my men killed. I took it personally," Steve explained. "I debated between killing him myself or having him sent to jail, but I'm a reasonable guy. I gave him a chance to tell his side of the story. Once he figured out I wasn't going to budge on some sort of retaliation, he offered me something."

You didn't like where this was going. "What exactly did he offer?"

"You."

You were waiting for the punchline. For someone to laugh. There was nothing funny about it as all three men stared at you. Bucky's expression remained the same, but there was sympathy in his eyes. Ransom looked proud of himself. It made you wish you could slap the smirk off his face. But Steve?

Steve's eyes were thoughtful, calculating. He was gauging your response. You almost opened your mouth to tell him you weren't worth the life of the man he lost, but what came out was, "Are you fucking kidding me?"

Steve didn't look surprised by your outburst. Maybe he expected it. "Listen, please. I know-"

"No. You listen. I want nothing to do with whatever he did. I am so sorry that one of your men was killed, but please understand that I am not going to be a pawn in whatever this is."

Ransom had the gall to look embarrassed as you stood up. "You don't have a choice. Just let him fuck you and be done with it."

"Yes, I do have a choice. And I'm choosing to leave."

"You're not walking out that door," Ransom said, getting to his feet, too. "Just like you didn't the last time you tried to leave."

Humiliation flooded you as Steve and Bucky exchanged a look. Were they judging you? Did they pity you? "I'm going upstairs and getting my bag. I'm not cleaning up your mess. I'm done playing your games, Ransom. I'm done with you."

Ransom's jaw clenched as he marched over and grabbed you by your throat. "You think I give a shit what you want right now? I never did. You were just a fucking toy to keep my dick wet. And I'd let him and his entire fucking crew run a train on you if it keeps me out of jail."

Your eyes teared up as you looked into his eyes. There was no love there. Not at that moment. Did he ever love you?

"Do. You. Understand?"

The hand around your throat squeezed tighter, just enough to show that he could end you. You whimpered, but not because of the pain. It was a different kind of hurt you felt.  The kind of hurt that couldn't be healed by false promises. That was what Ransom was: a false, empty promise.

I should have run the moment you walked into my life.  

"Let her go."

Steve's words were softly spoken in the quiet room, but everyone felt the weight of them.

"Don't tell me what to do with my girl, Rogers."

"Right now, she's MY girl. Get your fucking hands off of her."

Bucky brandished his gun as he stood up, taking aim at Ransom. "He won't ask again. And I'd hate to ruin her pretty dress with your blood."

You almost missed the snarl he let out as he released you, coughing as you rubbed your neck. Your heart leapt as you looked over and caught Steve's gaze. The intensity in his eyes only grew as he began to walk across the room. You felt your breath leave your body again as he got closer. You didn't bother to step back because you were already caught. 

Neither of you spoke a word when he stopped and brought his hands to your face. He cupped your cheeks with a certain kind of tenderness that surprised you as his eyes scanned your neck. A tear finally fell when his brows furrowed with concern. Why would he care when your own boyfriend didn't?

"The fuck are you doing?" Ransom snapped when Steve began to pepper gentle kisses along the column of your throat.

Your eyes slipped shut, but it wasn't completely out of fear. The feel of his lips should have made you shudder in disgust, but you found yourself craving more. Was it pathetic? You didn't care.

"I told you, she's my girl now," Steve murmured against your skin. "And if I ever see you touch her like that again, I'll tear you apart. Limb from limb."

Ransom's laugh sounded bitter and ugly as you opened your eyes. "You want my sloppy seconds so badly, be my guest. Little slut's probably creaming herself from the attention."

"This whole thing is your fault, Ransom," you reminded him, another bitter tear falling from your eye. The anger whirling inside you couldn't be contained any longer. "So if you're going to offer me up like a slut, the least I can do is enjoy it."

Steve kissed up to the corner of your mouth, smiling. "Enjoy it? Oh, sweetheart," he breathed, "By the time I'm done with you, you won't even remember he existed. Because every thought of him will be fucked out of you. I can promise you that."

You shivered and dared to glance at Ransom out of the corner of your eye. 

“You really are a fucking slut,” he sneered before Bucky pressed the gun to his temple.

“No one twisted your arm to offer her.”

"I could just let you kill him,” you pointed out to Steve, the last shred of sympathy for Ransom fading as another tear slid down your cheek.

"I'd take you anyway," Steve whispered, brushing his lips against your cheek to take the tear away. "I wanted you the moment I saw you and I'm a very determined man."

You were light on your feet as you brought a hand up to wrap around his wrist. Something to keep you from falling. "I won't be a pawn. If you're going to keep me, actually keep me, prove to me why I shouldn't run."

"I have ways to keep you from running," his voice deepened, a flash of Ransom dragging you to bed filling your mind. "But I'd rather not chase you away to begin with."

“She loves to put up a fight. Helps her sleep at night instead of admitting she’s as fucked up as the rest of us.” 

You weren't sure if it was the disdain in Ransom's voice or the rage in Steve's eyes, but a surge of unexpected power emerged from the bitterness. "What was it you said, Ran? You'd let his men run a train on me if it keeps you out of jail?"

"What are you suggesting, sweetheart?" Steve asked, his gaze curious as he pulled back to regard you. 

"While I don't want that, I want Ransom to watch you fuck me," you spoke, standing a bit straighter as you looked him in the eye. You refused to look weak. "I want him to see you split me open with your cock and make me cry from how good it feels. When you're done, then I'll forget he ever existed."

Bucky chuckled, but you didn't look his way. You didn't dare look away from Steve as his gaze drifted to your lips. "Hell hath no fury like a woman scorned. My wife's gonna love you."

"Done," Steve whispered before his mouth descended on yours.

You didn't fight as his tongue slid past your parted lips. You welcomed his dominance, his control. Oh, he was going to make you become addicted. The dampening in your panties was a sure sign of that. 

"You're fucking stupid if you think I'll watch him fuck her!"

Ransom's voice wasn't enough to break the spell that Steve's kiss had over you. Maybe you were trading one evil for another, but this was the door you willingly walked through. You threw away the key the moment you took Ransom's hand.

Now you'd have a better hand to guide you.

"You'll watch," Bucky promised. "But, punk, my doll might kill me if I have to watch, too. You understand."

The almost lighthearted tone of Steve's friend was enough to stop the kiss, giving you a moment to take a much needed deep breath. "Get Ari over here. He'll make sure he keeps his eyes open."

"You fucking-"

You jumped when Bucky smacked Ransom in the face with his gun, effectively cutting off his next words. The hit made his nose bleed and you took sick pleasure in watching it stain his sweater, his hands flying up to try and stop it. If you were the sacrifice, he had to pay in blood for your offering. 

"Any other conditions or questions?" Steve asked, turning your face back toward him as your now ex's swears and groans were muffled.

"Will you be good to me?” 

“You have my word and I’ll do what I can to make sure you trust me.”

Ransom may have been your worst mistake, but the silver lining was that you'd no longer be in his prison. Your body was a small price to pay to join Steve in a larger, better cage. You could still fly. Maybe you’d give him your heart in time. 

Maybe you could also convince Steve to take Ransom down anyway. For his grandfather, for the kid, for you. For every person he hurt.

You won't die, Ransom, but you'll pay. Everyone has to pay for their sins eventually.

“Then we should get started," you stated, sealing your fate.

"Call Ari. Now," Steve ordered Bucky, looking at Ransom with an unsympathetic smile. “You heard her. Let’s get started.”

*****

Hope to share more soon. Love and thanks! ❤️

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

Hue and Cry XI

Warnings: non-consent sex and rape, sad reader, Bucky being Bucky because he don’t quit.

This is dark!medieval!Bucky Barnes x reader and explicit. 18+ only.  Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Warnings have been given. DO NOT PROCEED if these matters upset you.

Synopsis: You try to make things better.

Note: Finally it’s the weekend! Got this done catching up on FATWS and just kind went with it. Also if anyone’s interested in making a moodboard/banner for this, I’m not sure if I like the one I have and I might play around with it. I would forever be indebted to you.

Thanks to everyone and thanks in advance for all your feedback. :)

I really hope you enjoy. 💋

<3 Let me know what you think with a like or reblog or reply or an ask! Love ya!

MASTERLIST

You were frightened by the gentle touch on your elbow. You were so ensnared in your despair, you hadn’t heard the soft footsteps or sensed the figure right beside you. It was only May’s sweet voice which woke you from your drunken malaise.

“Oh dearie, what is the matter?” she rubbed your arm, “I did see how you left but Peter did not say what upset you. It wasn’t him, was it? I swear, I taught that boy better--”

“No, no, it wasn’t him, never, I… No, he has only been kind to me,” you sniffed, “it is only… I have been untrue. I do not deserve his, or your kindness.”

“Dearie, that is ridiculous, you are a good girl, you deserve all good things. Perhaps we only did just meet days ago, but we care for you. We could not be unhappy with you for anything,” she cooed.

“You don’t understand,” you daubed your eyes with your knuckles, “I… I lied to you, to your husband, and your nephew. Everyone here.”

“Is it a lie that would hurt us? Truly?” she asked, “would it lead any true plight for us? Would we lose our livelihoods or our lives?” She tried to look you in the eye, “I do not think so and so I do not worry of it.”

“What do you want from me?”

“What do I want from you?” she blinked in confusion.

“Yes, everyone wants something of me. If it is to be your friend, I do not know I could be much of one, and if it were to be… something else to your nephew, that surely could never be, and whatever it is, it cannot end well.”

“You speak in riddles, girl, and no doubt foolishly because you are already my friend and I would not rescind that title for anything.”

“And if I have no other title? Hmm? If I am only a servant painted to be a lady?” You looked at the floor and more tears streamed down, “do you still call me friend?”

She was silent. Her hand fell down your arm and she took your hand. You were surprised as she embraced you and pulled your head onto her shoulder. She rocked you as your tears spilled onto her gown.

“Whatever you are, you are good,” she whispered, “I, nor my husband, nor my nephew would take offense at your true bearing. The lie is small, but your character has shown true.”

“I can’t--I couldn’t--”

“What you will do is you will come with me for the night. You will let the wine drain from your veins and your tears subside,” she coaxed, “and whatever it is that truly troubles you will wait until then.”

“But what about--”

“Those men can tend to themselves,” she hooked her arm through yours and carefully drew you from the wall, “now let us go. I am weary myself.”

You let her lead you away even as uneasiness boiled in your stomach. You should go after Lord Barnes, find your way back to his chambers, but you were just as afraid to appease him as to defy him in that moment.

🏰

You slept beside May. Actually slept. You hadn’t done much of that in a long time. She was warm and reminded you of your mother. When you were young and she served the former Lord Barnes and you slept between her and your father on a straw mattress. He always smelled of hay and she smelled of some indiscernible pollen.

May smelled of cinnamon or something like it. You woke with a heavy head and limbs. You sat up in nothing but your shift as the older woman moved around in the dim. She hung a kettle over the small hearth in the tight chambers, nothing so roomy as the duke’s.

She stood and arranged two cups on the table. She wore a plain robe over her shift and rubbed her hands together in the morning chill. She smiled at you as she neared the window, “I didn’t mean to wake you, dearie.”

“No, I should,” you slid out from under the blankets as she pulled back the curtains from the only window, “I should go--”

“You should stay. I’ll brew some berry tea, it’ll do your head well,” she insisted.

“You don’t understand. I shouldn’t have come here last night, I should have--”

“Is this anything to do with Lord Rogers?” she interjected, “you did not say exactly how you knew him.”

“Rogers? No, he is not…” you pulled on your gown but it droop as you could not reach the laces, “please, help me dress. I must be back.”

“Back to what? To who?” she urged.

"Just back," you walked to her and turned your back to face her, "please, you've been so kind but you cannot know what should ensue should I delay."

"Because you won't tell me," she pulled the laces tight and jerked your entire body, "if you did, perhaps I might help."

"You couldn't even if you knew," you murmured as she knotted the ties, "I'm sorry. Thank you for all you've done," you faced her again, "but…"

"It's Lord Barnes." She declared staunchly, "isn't it? I saw him last night with you and Peter. My nephew would not share what was said but he was as out of sorts as you."

"As I said," you took your cap and pulled it over your head, "I am only a maid dressed to be another," you reached around your skirts to wiggle into your slippers, "I was remiss to lie to you, to involve you in my mess. You should stay away from me and I will do the same."

"You don't have to go back to him," she stopped you as you tried to flit past her.

"Where would I go?" You asked, "he will find me. He found me before. He is close with the king and every man of esteem in the kingdom and I haven't a coin to shield me."

"You could go to our stead. We could take you back with us, we are ever in need of another hand--"

"To be what? I would serve well but I expect you mean as more. Your nephew's interest in me is misplaced. I am not of his stature, in title or repute." You brushed past her and grabbed the long door handle, "I am a whore, that cannot be undone."

"Dearie--" you left her and pulled the door to clatter loudly behind you. It was early still but too late to please Barnes. You would face his wrath so it did not again stray to Peter and his kin.

You found Lester outside his door. The horse-faced guard snickered as he let you through and you hid your sneer from him. You knew how he listened through the door and there were times he mocked you when Barnes was not around, mimicking those whines and whimpers drawn from you in your torment. He would have more fodder that day.

The duke was awake. He sat only in his nightshirt before the blazing fire as he stirred it with the iron poker. He grumbled as the latch fell back into place. 

"You're overdue," he stated bluntly, "how is the boy? Hmm, were you so desperate to beg his pardons that you could not be troubled with mine?"

"It was his aunt, she saw me through the night. I was drunk," you neared him cautiously, "I wanted to be back but she kept me. It is no excuse for my… straying." 

You went around him so that you stood between him and the flames. He raised the poker to point it at your throat as he glared up at you. You grabbed it lightly and pushed it aside. He let you and dropped it to the floor with a clunk. He squinted up at you curiously. You bent slowly and gathered your skirts to lift them.

"No--" Bucky began and you put a finger to his lips, a shaky finger, and came closer as you hushed him.

You straddled him as your skirts bunched behind you as you held yourself up with your knees against the bench. You let your hand fall to his shoulder, that one which did not lead to more, and bent to kiss him through the thin linen.

"I came back, my lord," you said, "I wanted to all night but the wine… let me make it right."

He grabbed your chin with his other hand and forced you up. His jaw clenched as he looked you in the eye and held you there. You slid your hand down his chest and stomach and rubbed him through the tails of the shirt. He responded quickly as you felt him growing hard.

"You tell me all the things you want of me but do not allow me to be them," you leaned in so that his lips were close to yours, "so let me."

His blue eyes glimmered and you felt him gasp as you hand slipped under his nightshirt. His hand slipped down to your chest and squeezed as he moaned airily.

"You think I would forgive you?" He asked, his lips grazing yours hotly.

"For what, my lord? You thrust me into another's arms but what more did I do but dance," you struggled to keep your voice from quivering, "you left me there alone but I came back to you…" you stroked him and he gulped, "don't I always come back to you, my lord?"

You kissed him and forced down the revulsion and anxiety of what you were doing. This was the only language he understood. You angled his member and lifted yourself over him. You angled him against your entrance and shuddered as you let him inside. You croaked as you parted from his lips and sheathed him completely,

"I don't want that boy," you whispered as you moved you hips and latched onto his shoulders to keep on him, "only you, my lord, as you want me."

"Sweeting," he murmured, "ohhhh…" 

His hand went to your hip beneath the layers of your gown and shift. He grasped your thigh as you kept your motion steady. You flinched only as his fingers crawled to your vee and he flicked your bud. You moaned without thinking and focused on your hips.

A heat built at his fingertips as he kissed you again, deep and desperate as his hips tilted into you from below. The bench creaked under your weight and the fire flickered against your back. You slung your arms around him and closed your eyes, they stung but you would not cry.

You huffed as the tension coiled inside of you, his fingers working faster and faster, urging you on as his smoky voice filled your lungs. You tore your mouth away from his and hung your head back as your body moved out of instinct. 

You felt the same rise as that day in the carriage when he first touched you. Ripples rolled over you and you exclaimed as they rained over you like hail. Your walls clenched him and the tenderness that lingered dissolved. It had never felt this good, never felt good at all.

He pulled his hand from between your legs and hooked his arm around you. He stood and flipped you swiftly so that your back was across the bench. Your legs dangled down, splayed before him as he took control. He hammered into atop the narrow bench as you head and shoulders hung off the back. 

Your hood fell onto the floor and sweat gathered beneath the silk and linen of your day-old attire. You swooped your arm around Bucky's neck as he pinned you on the thin cushion and the noise of his frantic intrusion filled the room. He smelled of leather and smoke. He felt like fire and ice at once.

He rammed into you as hard as he could and pushed his face into the crook of your neck. His heavy pants warmed your flesh and his bit into your throat as he groaned. His hips spasmed wildly and he came with a final pinch of your tender skin. He stopped at his hilt and rested atop you like a stone.

The blood pounded in your head painfully as you hung over the bench. He pulled you up with him and your vision swam from the disorienting rise as he kept inside of you. He staggered around the seat and carried you to the bed, falling atop you on the cushy feather mattress. 

He pushed himself up on his elbow and gazed down at you. He shoved his cock as deep as he could and watched you squirm. His eyes were alight as he delighted in your helpless whimpers and you grasped the front of his nightshirt.

"You will always come back to me," he rasped and thrust hard, "always."

"Always… my lord," you squeaked as the pain once more filled your core and soul alike.

[daitranscripts]

In Your Heart Shall Burn Pt. 1

This Bodes Poorly

In Your Heart Shall Burn Masterpost Previous Quest: In Hushed Whispers Previous Quest: Champions of the Just

The PC and advisors are gathered in the war room.

Cullen: The elite of the templars are ready, Herald. Cullen: The best of the mages are ready, Herald.

Cullen: Be certain you are prepared for the assault on the Breach. We cannot know how you will be affected.

The scene changes to the Temple of Scared Ashes, where the PC faces the rift. Templars/mages stand along nearby ledges.

Cassandra: Templars!/Mages!

Solas: Focus past the Herald! Let [their] will draw from you!

The templars/mages begin channeling their power. The PC closes the rift in an explosion. Candra rises and approaches the PC, placing a hand on their shoulder.

Cassandra: You did it.

Back at Haven, the people are celebrating and dancing. The PC watches from afar, and Cassandra approaches.

Cassandra: Solas confirms the heavens are scarred but calm. The Breach is sealed. We’ve received reports of lingering rifts, and many questions remain, but this was a victory. Word of your heroism has spread.

Dialogue options:

General: We all did this. [1]

General: It wasn’t me, it was the mark. [2]

General: It’s too soon to celebrate. [3]

1 - General: We all did this. PC: You know how many were involved. Luck put me at the center. Cassandra: A strange kind of luck. I’m not sure if we need more or less. But you’re right. This was a victory of alliance. One of the few in recent memory. With the Breach closed, that alliance will need new focus. [4]

2 - General: It wasn’t me, it was the mark. PC: Don’t they know I fell into this? Almost literally. Cassandra: Perhaps you’re too close to judge. We needed you. We still do. We have yet to discover how the Breach came to be, and that is only the most conspicuous of our troubles. Strange days, and more to come. [4]

3 - General: It’s too soon to celebrate. PC: We don’t know what caused this. We can’t rest easy. Cassandra: I agree. One success does not guarantee peace. The immediate danger is gone. For some, so is the necessity of this alliance. We will be weary. The Inquisition will need new focus. [4]

4 - Scene continues.

A warning bell begins to ring, and soldiers and townspeople begin to scatter.

Cullen: Forces approaching! To arms!

Cassandra: What the…? We must get to the gates!

Party comments:

Solas: This bodes poorly.

Varric: I knew it was too easy.

Sera: This isn’t good, and it was never good!

Vivienne: What threat could the ground hold? You already conquered the sky.

Iron Bull: So.. Celebratory drinks are on hold.

Blackwall: Perhaps assaulting the sky drew some attention.

Cole: They’re afraid. Something’s coming.

The party moves to reach Cullen.

Minaeve: Must prepare. Who would attack us? You just saved us all.

Threnn: We have to put up barricades or something. This will be bad. Real bad.

Adan: What’s going on? We’re under attack? From who?

Seggrit: Always something! You’re “important”—go protect us!

Lysette: I’ll help here. You get to Cullen. He’ll know what to do, Maker willing.

Flissa: What’s happening? You’ll take care of it, right? That’s why she blessed you.

The party approaches the gates.

Cassandra: Cullen?

Cullen: One watchguard reporting. It’s a massive force, the bulk over the mountain.

Josephine: Under what banner?

Cullen: None.

Josephine: None?

There is banging at the gates.

Choice dependent dialogue:

Sided with the templars [5]

Sided with the mages [6]

5 - Sided with the templars:

Dorian: If someone could open this, I’d appreciate it!

A soldier opens the door to reveal Dorian amongst a cluster of corpses.

Dorian: Ah! I’m here to warn you. Fashionably late, of course.

Dorian stumbles into Cullen.

Dorian: Mite exhausted. Don’t mind me.

Dorian (met Dorian in Redcliffe): There you are! I came to tell you happened with the mages at Redcliffe. You’re not going to like it. Dorian (never visited Redcliffe): My name is Dorian Pavus, and I bring grave news from Redcliffe—an army of rebel mages, right behind me.

The scene pans to the marching forces, and shows Corypheus and Calpernia in the midst of it all.

Dorian: They are under the command of the Venatori, in service to something called the “Elder One.” The woman is Calpernia. She commands the Venatori. For that… the Elder One. They were already marching on Haven. I risked my life to get here first!

PC: Cullen! Give me a plan! Anything!

Cullen: Haven is no fortress. If we are to withstand this monster, we must control the battle.

Cullen: Get out there and hit that force. Use everything you can!

Cullen draws his sword.

Cullen: Soldiers! Gather the villagers! Fortify and watch for advance forces! Inquisition! With the Herald! For your lives! For all of us!

6 - Sided with the mages:

Cole: I can’t come in unless you open!

A soldier opens the door, where an enemy is stabbed from behind and falls, revealing Cole.

Cole: I’m Cole, I came to warn you. To help. People are coming to hurt you. You probably already know.

PC: What is this? What’s going on?

Cole: The templars come to kill you.

Cullen: Templars? Is this the Order’s response to our talks with the mages? Attacking blindly?

Cole: The red templars went to the Elder One. You know him? He knows you. You took his mages.

The scene pans to the marching forces, and shows Corypheus and Samson in the midst of it all.

Cullen: I know that man… but this Elder One…

Cole: He’s very angry that you took his mages.

PC: Cullen! Give me a plan! Anything!

Cullen: Haven is no fortress. If we are to withstand this monster, we must control the battle.

Cullen: Get out there and hit that force. Use everything you can!

Cullen draws his sword.

Cullen: Mages! You—you have sanction to engage them! That is Samson. He will not make it easy! Inquisition! With the Herald! For your lives! For all of us!

Next: Saving Haven

[chironshorseass]

Slow kisses for the kiss based stories 😽

so ummm this was kinda influenced by That first patrochilles kiss in tsoa…but make it ruegard:)

read on ao3

Silena thinks that catching the sun in her hands is all she wants to do for the rest of her life. She's learned to find peace in the strawberry fields, laying on the blanket Drew had made for her and listening to Clarisse talk. Catching the sun here feels easier than anywhere else in the world.

“I mean, I guess I like him?” Clarisse is saying, sitting instead of resting and staring at the big blue sky. “We’ve known each other for a long time.”

“Then tell him how you feel, ” Silena says simply.

She doesn't care, if she were honest. Maybe she's just a bad friend, but she doesn't particularly care about Chris Rodriguez. She's more preoccupied with watching a lone strand of Clarisse’s hair fly golden in the sun, like a banner. She’s more preoccupied with watching the softness to her eyes, the way Silena is the only one who gets to see her like this.

“Hey,” Silena hears her say. “You listening?”

“Huh? Oh. Sorry, Chris. Right.”

Clarisse’s silhouette over her blocks out the rays; her smile here is clear as the summer sky after the rains of spring. “S’okay. If you don't want to talk about it right now, then we don't talk about it.”

“No, but...you like him. And you want to know my opinion, daughter of Aphrodite and all. I take that seriously.”

Clarisse’s smile grows into something she’s learned. Disbelief. “Really.”

“Uh-huh, really.”

Her arm accommodates itself so she can rest her head on her hand, body leaning into Clarisse. She hits her friend’s leg with her foot, urging her to speak.

“Fine, fine.” Clarisse rolls her eyes. “If you want to hear me talk...”

“Always.”

It takes a couple of seconds for Clarisse to regain her words. “I...I don't know. Because I keep asking myself: do I actually like him like him? Or am I just rushing things?”

“Love flows at its own pace, I guess. But if you want to tell him how you feel, then...” Her eyes flicker down, boring into a lone, dwindling string of yarn. She forces the words out of her, loosens her tongue for Clarisse’s sake. “Then tell him how you feel. I'm sure he likes you.”

Their gazes meet again. She's closer than Silena had initially thought.

“And if I don't?” she asks.

“If you don't what?”

They're speaking in hushed tones, as if the strawberries and the clouds and the wind were listening.

“If I don't tell Chris. How I feel.”

“But that's...not what you want. That's why you asked for my help.”

It's a fleeting moment, but she swears that Clarisse glances once, at her lips. She then rests her chin on her hands, their faces inches apart.

“And what if I just want to be with you?” The edge of her lip quirks up, and Silena is reminded once again that no one will ever be gifted this version of her. “You’re not so bad, you know. For a daughter of Aphrodite.”

“Then be with me.”

“Okay.”

She's not so sure, when they first broke the barrier of ice. She's not sure why she ever decided to flash her a smile, on her first day of camp. Maybe it was because she had a feeling that beneath that scowl and rigidness and that coldness, there was a warmth she longed, that no one else possessed. No one except Clarisse.

She isn't sure who is the first to move closer, either. One second, they are catching the sunlight, and the next they are catching their breath.

At least Silena knows this: she is the first to close the distance entirely. It is too tempting, perhaps, to have her this close to her heart and not do anything about it.

First their lips brush, like cloth against skin. Then they share that sunlight, breathing it in instead, lips moving against the other as if it's the last life source on Earth. The kiss turns languid, sweet, slow as the clouds above them.

Love flows at its own pace.

Except she wants it forever. She wants to decide.

Clarisse tucks Silena’s curls behind her ear, the ones that had fallen on her cheek like dead leaves. She’s too busy being alive to care. Clarisse thumbs the skin next to her upper lip, silently asking her for better access. Silena concedes, but not without a smile breaking through, not without her cupping Clarisse’s cheek, urging her closer.

Close to my heart.

They share the taste of strawberries that they’d eaten before, pulling away every few seconds to breathe, then come back. Then breathe. And again and again. Just as the tide always returns to shore. She’s sure the kisses could last forever. The sun could stay high in the clouds and no one would ever bother them. No thoughts expect for Clarisse’s mouth on hers and the feeling of falling petals and her heart bursting through.

Until Clarisse finally pulls away. Her forehead rests against her own. Silena’s fingers rest on her neck; she can feel her pulse, thundering on with galloping strength.

“I think it’s late. Camp activities probably started by now.”

“Oh. Yeah, okay.”

She gets the silent message. So she gathers her basket and her blanket and stands up on shaking legs.

It’s like a dream. The world had carried on, and here she stands, watching it unfold after the breaking of her and Clarisse’s bubble.

They’re at the end of the pathway, leaving the strawberry fields, when Clarisse properly looks at her.

“Until next time, girlie.”

She smiles in return, watching her trudge away.

The sun slips from her hands. She isn’t sure of anything, now that she thinks about it.

[thelordofdarkreunion]

Magnificent Scoundrels- Of Humans and Demons

It had been quite a while since I’ve came out with a story.  In this, we have the explanation of what is happening in two of the galaxies concerning the shenanigans bringing them all together, as well as the more supernatural side of all of them.  As usual, I do not own anything except Thomas Drake and his universe.  Enjoy the story.   

“Speak softly and carry a big stick.”  -Theodore Roosevelt

Empyrean Iris Galaxy

Rundi Homeworld, Seat of the Galactic Assembly

“Nervous?” 

“Actually, no.  Not really.”

“Figures.  First human to make contact with extraterrestrial life, now the first person to meet the newcomers from these new galaxies.  Nothing fazes you,”  Admiral Kelly sighed.  Admiral Vir, dressed in an immaculately pressed grey uniform, grinned.  

“They said space was the final frontier.  As it turns out, we’ve got eight new galaxies out there.  Life just got a lot more complicated.  But, honestly, I wouldn’t have it any other way.  More fun!  More exploring!” said Vir.

“It takes all kinds, I suppose.  But you have to deal with briefing the Assembly,” replied Kelly.  “And deal with their possible reactions to the fact that they might not be the top dogs anymore,” she added as an afterthought.

“True,” sighed Vir.  “The worst part of the job, by far.”  A younger human officer stepped into the small, well lit room outside the main council chambers and turned to the Admirals.

“Admiral Vir, sir.  The Assembly is ready.”  He clutched his hands together, nervous to be in the presence of a living legend.  

“Thank you,” replied Vir politely.  He strode forward, only to pause briefly and look back at Kelly with a grin.  “Oh, by the way, Star Wars is real.”

“Wait...what?”  

He walked into the council chambers, radiating an aura of careful calmness.  He looked to the seats where the various delegates from all the different species in the galaxy sat, looking slightly wistfully at the human section, wishing he could be there instead of standing alone at the head of the council.  But, like he had said earlier, it went with the job, and he was the only person to make contact with the denizens of the other galaxies.  He reached the speaker’s podium, and, after the usual useless bureaucratic formalities were made, began.  

“Esteemed members of the Galactic Assembly, I am sure you have noticed that we are no longer the only populated galaxy within this universe.  Approximately a month ago, an extreme anomaly caused nine different galaxies, including our own, from nine separate universes to co-exist in one singular universe.  I come before you today, having met with people from each of the galaxies to brief you on the various governments from these other galaxies, what they are like, and what you should expect.”  He paused for a moment.  Perhaps he had used the word ‘galaxy’ too much in that speech?  No.  He had to be extremely specific, even at the risk of sounding redundant.  “It should be noted that, interestingly enough, humans exist in all of these realities.”  That drew a round of nervous murmerings.  Humans were one of the newest additions to the Assembly, and were by far one of the more powerful and dangerous member races.  Come to think of it, I might be lucky if they don’t start a riot over this, he mused.

“It should also be noted that, coincidentally, several of these new realities share similarities with old human stories.  Should you wish to know more, the appropriate media has been forwarded to you.”

“Now, on to the main briefing.”  Several delegates leaned forward in their seats expectantly.  Notepads, recording devices, or computers were taken from their holding places.  Adam cleared his throat.  “This is what we have deemed Galaxy One…”

And so the briefing went on.  He told them of the people he’d met, gave them the anatomical reports on new species of aliens.  And, most importantly, he told them of their counterparts.  Told them of both the good and the worrying.  

The Galactic Empire: a fracturing, militaristic pro-human superpower that used to rule Galaxy 1.

The New Republic: a pro-democratic group that opposed and overthrew the Empire from Galaxy 1.

The United Federation of Planets: a peaceful yet technologically powerful group where all species were equal in Galaxy 3.  

The Interstellar Manufacturing Corporation: a massive, privately funded mega-corporation that effectively ruled Earth and humanity in Galaxy 7.

The Covenant: a theocratic coalition of aliens dedicated to activating a series of devastating WMD’s in the belief that it would cause their ascension in Galaxy 4.

The Imperium of Man: a theocratic, xenophobic, militaristic pro-human superpower fighting an endless war against all comers in Galaxy 6.  

The list went on, and on, and on.  As each different government was mentioned, a map of their territories, capabilities, species, and symbol flashed on a centrally located holographic projector.  

“Now, the next part is this.  We have received word from the Citadel Council, the reigning government in what we have dubbed Galaxy 5, asking us to come to their capital for peaceful negotiations.  They seem to be extremely similar to our own government, in the sense that they are a galaxy-spanning federation including multiple species.  While I am no diplomat; that would be your area of expertise, the information we have gathered has led us to believe that this government in particular, and two others are the most similar to us and would be the best to ally with.”  The room filled with hushed murmurings.  The Drev delegate spoke up.

“And what is to stop all you humans from ending up like this?  Or this?”  He tapped a button, and the six-spoked circle of the Galactic Empire and the double-headed golden eagle of the Imperium of Man flashed to life on the console.  “As there are humans in all of these galaxies, you could band together and wipe the rest of us out.  What’s to stop you?”  Vir paused for a moment.  

“Because, being human is all about individuality.  We have no collective.  Our societies change all the time throughout history.  It is often not a story of unity.  In the end, a human is whatever it wants to be.  The humans of this new reality are probably just as different to each other as all the other species are.  And, because we are an individualistic species, the chances of us uniting under one banner to conquer not only one but nine different galaxies is not going to happen.”  He looked out at all the different delegates, all the different aliens he had come to appreciate over so long.  “One other thing.  Most humans have a great sense of right and wrong.  Something that many of you have come to appreciate over the time we’ve been in the Assembly, I’m sure.  We know that to take your land, to kill your people, is wrong.  And, as I said before, humans are different.  There are evil and bad humans in this reality; there always have been good ones as well.  The same still applies.  While some of these humans will want to take from you everything, humans like me will always be there to fight by your side against tyranny.”  The room broke into applause.  Sometimes good speeches weren't about grandiose words.  Sometimes they were simply there to get a point across.  And Admiral Adam Vir was a master at that type of speaking.  

He sighed to himself.  No bad.  There wouldn’t be any riots.  Probably.  Hopefully.  He went on with his briefing, pausing slightly to wonder if similar things were happening in the other galaxies...

“I want one simple thing: money.  I will tell you what I want; everyone knows what I want.  But the people you call saviors, the ones who you think will deliver you and raise you up, they want something else.  They want complete and utter control over every aspect of your life.  And when you naive fools put them into power, in a short time you will miss my kind.  But I will be dead, and you will be damned, because you never thought through the consequences of your actions.”  -Martin Crossgrow

Aboard the Apocalypse 

Thomas Drake sat in his quarters.  The room was an odd combination of styles, with austere and sleek metal plating contrasting with the rustic stonework of a large electric fireplace and the handsome woodwork of the furniture.  He sat before a large video screen, barely the width of a piece of paper.  His black hair was immaculate, as always, and his deep blue eyes stared from underneath a brow furrowed with concentration.  His fingers flew across a holographic keyboard, inputting the correct security procedures.  A mesh of invisible, interlocking and ever-changing computer algorithms flashed across the screen.  Good.  Even if someone were to try and break into his ship’s computers, they would not find records of what he was doing.  They could not.  He pressed a few more keys, then waited.  

Waited for one person.  His...sponsor.  For lack of a better word.  The head of the most powerful corporation in his galaxy.  The head of the Guild of Merchants, the corporate oligarchy that ruled the space in between the Galactic Federation and the Empire of Prosium.  Ultra-capitalists to a somewhat disturbing extent, it was they who controlled most of the galaxy’s comperce, built most of the products, and of course, paid the most.  

A series of chimes, repeating the same notes, sounded.  They sounded faster, quicker, humming together, until one long, high, note sang out.  The computer screen flashed from black with lines of green coding to reveal a face.  

It was that of a man, skin pale from never seeing the warm kiss of a sun, pale from never leaving building complexes.  It was old, with receding white hair and skin starting to sag, but the face and the eyes did not betray this age.  They burned with energy, arrogance and contempt.  Not the misplaced arrogance and perceived invincibility of youth, or the kind energy of an honest worker.  No.  These eyes shone with an arrogance of age and assurity, the arrogance of a man who knew with absolute certainty he was better and more powerful than anyone else.  These eyes now turned to Thomas Drake, and took on a new expression.  That of a superior looking on at a trusted subordinate.  

“Captain Drake.  How are you?” spoke the calm voice of Martin Crossgrow.  

“I’m doing well, Mr. Crossgrow,” replied Drake.  

“Wonderful.  Now, what do you have for me?”  

“Information.  As per usual.  Stocks, governments, companies...entities.  In some cases.”  Crossgrow gave an appreciative nod.  

“Excellent.  Your usual fee will be transferred to your account when the information reaches me.”

“Good.  I wanted to warn you, though.  In some of these new realities, there are...things. Things of...supernatural power.  I’m getting you as much information as I can on them, so as to be better prepared if and when confronted.”  At this, Crossgrow laughed, a low, dry, chuckle.  

“I’m not afraid of the supernatural.  If it does exist in these new galaxies, then there are people who will know how to fight it in those galaxies.  And every man has a price.  So if the time comes, I merely must pay that price.  It’s simple.”  Drake said nothing.  He knew it wouldn’t be quite that simple.  But he also knew that disagreeing with the head of the most powerful corporation in the galaxy, and his highest paying employer, was not a wise decision.  

“If that’s how you play it, then that’s how you play it.  But I think I need more information.  Places, organizations with knowledge, information.  That’s what I must find.”  Crossgrow made a harrumph noise in his throat.  

“Well, in the meantime, tell me about the financial side to these new places.”

“Of course.  The biggest threat to the Guild is probably the Interstellar Manufacturing Corporation.  Monopoly.  Rules humanity in one of these other galaxies.  Produces quite powerful and interesting war machines.  I’ve got the schematics for one type.”  This elicited a laugh.

“I’m reasonably sure that you stole that from one of your...what do you call them…” he paused for a moment, then snapped his fingers in realization.  “Ah, Scoundrels!  Didn’t you?”  Drake shrugged.

“Of course.  It’s being sent to you as we speak.  I’ve also got…” he trailed off as he tapped several buttons on his wrist computer.  “Schematics for…” He looked up and grinned.  “Chainsaw swords, plasma swords, rechargeable laser weaponry, jetpack boots, laser weapons that run off of explosive gasses, contractible body armor, high-quality medical gel that heals wounds almost instantly, cybernetic super-soldier armor, three types of personal shields, teleporters, omnitools, so-called ‘phaser weaponry’, two types of power armor, and the blood readouts from biotics, pariahs, and SPARTANs.”  He held up a hand to forestall Crossgrow’s confused look at the last three items on the list.  “It’s all described in the report.”  

“Ah, very good.  Very good, indeed, Captain Drake.”  A slightly amused look crossed Crossgrow’s face.  “Although, won’t your compatriots be upset if they knew you were selling their secrets?”  Drake smiled in response.  

“If they ever found out.”  HIs smile grew wider, and both he and Crossgrow repeated the mantra in perfect synchronization.  “Besides, that’s just.  Good.  Business.”  

“Forget everything you think you know.” -Karl Mordo, upon Dr. Strange’s arrival in Kamar-Taj

Marvel Galaxy

Earth

The New York Sanctum

Doctor Steven Strange was a wizard.  Not “wizard” in the sense that he was extremely good at something, like “technological wizard” or “engineering wizard”, but a literal magic wizard.  Once upon a time, he had been a prestigious surgeon, but that had all ended in the fires of a car crash.  He had traveled the world, trying to heal his broken body, and stumbled on a place that taught actual, real, magic.  

Through a strange series of events, he had mastered these “mystical arts” and become the head of Earth’s sorcerers.  It was his job to defend the planet and all its inhabitants from any and all magic or extra-dimensional threats.  This, of course, was now a particular problem, seeing as eight different realities from different dimensions now existed in the same material universe as his reality did. Now he had eight new galaxies to take care of, and possible threats from all of them to fight.

Wonderful.

He sighed to himself.  Might as well get started.  Get it done with.  Hopefully he didn’t get eaten.  He breathed in, breathed out, his mind calm, tranquil.  His heavy red cloak billowed around him, lifting him in the air as he took a cross-legged position.  One more deep breath.  He drew upon his power, and allowed his mind to roam.  Not freely, of course.  Silently.  His metal defenses were high.  No entities, no beings, could tune onto the small signature he emitted.  It took practice, hours upon hours of it, combined with an innate talent to disguise one’s mental signature so.  

He floated, his mind calm.  Thoughts, emotions, feelings…   Interesting.  They all flitted through his brain, caressing the edges of his mind.  Nothing for now.  He roamed higher.  Opened his mind to beyond his Earth, beyond his reality...and was immediately assaulted, battered, his mind tossed around like a cork upon an ocean.  Travesty, glory, tragedy, celebration, hatred, hope, love, rage…  He wanted to scream.  He did not.  He merely steeled his mental defenses, clamping down on the sanity of his own brain.

He saw...darkness crashing against light.  An eternal battle, observed by one.  Something larger at play.  Something he did not, could not comprehend.  Time began, the beginning played out, a universe expanded.  Light.  Beginning.  Emotion.  Differences.  It reminded him of the principle of yin-yang, but on a much larger scale.  Strange watched the universe, as millions of stars were born and died.  The light encompassed everything.  Shadows, tendrils of darkness, battled it, fought it, sometimes snuffed it out.  The light won when it came forward, burning away the darkness, but if the light failed, gave up, the darkness crept forward to take its place.  The light was passive, in a way, upholding the rules with a code of honor.  The dark was not.  It surged, striking forward, defying the rules and logic itself.  Interesting.  Strange got the feeling that there was something more here at play, something he didn’t know yet.  But it wasn’t a threat.  Yet.  It could wait.  He moved to the next galaxy, the next reality that had been entwined with his.  

Next.  His mind reached out once more.  Now this place...this one was interesting.

It has power.  Not separated from the real world, not some ancient deities having eldritch chess games.  No.  This one had...something different.  An energy field, created from the energy of all living things, surrounding them, binding them, letting some get a taste of its power.  Most interesting indeed.  He went further.  

A field.  A field of ghosts.  Roughly divided in two.  On one side, strength, power, hate, rage, passion.  On the other, peace, knowledge, serenity, harmony.  Two different sides, two different users and practitioners of this energy field.  Different individuals.  No gods.  No demons.  Only mortals.  But powerful ones.  Two in particular stood out.  Both on the side of passion.  A void, a hungry, hungry void encompassing an individual of massive power.  Another, a crackling nimbus of darkness and selfishness.  They did nothing.  But should they break free from this field of ghosts...the consequences...hmmm.  What was this place, even?  A place of the dead?  Reflections of the living?

Strange whirled around as he felt a presence behind him.  Another shade.  But not milling on the field with the others.  This one stood alone.  It was of both sides...but neither.  Light and dark swirled within the figure in perfect harmony.  It walked forward, towards him.  Strange could sense it was, or once was, a human.  It wore stylized armor and a mask under a black, heavy, hooded robe.  It inclined its head in greeting to Strange.  

“What...what are you, exactly?” asked Strange.  The robed figure started out on the field of ghosts.  

“I was once like you, sorcerer.”  The voice was whispery, swirling, ghostly.  Beneath Strange could hear the faint trace of the voice of a dead man.  “A man with a destiny.”  

“Why are you not with the others?” said Strange.  The figure gave the phantom impression of a laugh, then a sigh.  

“I do not walk in the light, for it robs me of the stars.  I do not walk in the dark, for it robs me of my surroundings.  I walk in the twilight, and while both are dulled, I can see the entire picture and walk in balance.”  He turned towards Strange.  “Some say it is between light and dark.  It is not.  You must have balance.  You must have harmony between the two.  There is a war coming, sorcerer.  A war that you must win.  Your power will be with you.  Always.  Remember that.”  The ghost faded into oblivion, and the vision of the field ended.  Odd. The vision was something to meditate on for another day.  After he had the complete picture.  

Next one.  This one had a parallel universe.  A shadowy reflection of the real world, ruled by...something.  The ruler wasn’t human, wasn’t demon or god, it was...something else.  A creature of the shadows.  Formed by them.  Made by them.  This reality was odd, yes, but it had no place in the real world.  It could not come to nor affect the realm he was sworn to protect.  No threats here.  Next.  

No magic here.  Science.  More than anything else.  Fine.  Good, actually.  Less work for him to do.  He was about to turn and leave, when he felt a presence.  Something different.  An ancient being.  Strange blinked, and suddenly found himself in a blank white room.  What?

Staring at him, lounging in a comfortable white chair with a drink in hand, was a man (no, being, he corrected himself) wearing a ridiculous, outlandish, garb of an old school extremely wealthy Renaissance priest.  Okay.  That was a new one.  Personally, he much preferred the man from the other galaxy with his armor and heavy robe.  Whatever.  He was getting sidetracked.  The being grinned at him.  

“Surprised?” it asked.  Strange recovered quickly. 

“No,” he replied.  The being laughed uproariously.  

“He he, yes you are!”  It sipped its drink.  “It is so rare to get guests!”  He turned suddenly, looking around at things that were not there.  “Hmm.  My time is short.  There is much work to be done in little time.  The gods of humanity are outnumbered.  A war is coming.  Heh.  I see someone already told you that.  Yes.  There are forces teaming up.  The darkness is spreading.”  The being leaned closer.  “I usually am not so straight forward, but it is doubtful you’ll see me again, so I must tell you these things now.  Anyway, be prepared.  Have fun.  Try not to die.  That would be bad.”  The being snapped its fingers, and the room disappeared, leaving Strange hovering over the universe once more.  He shook his head.  Usually massively powerful beings did not make odd jokes while inviting him for drinks.  More things to remember, more things to meditate on.  He had to move on.

In two other universes, nothing.  No semblance of any sort of magic or higher beings.  Good.  Nothing to worry about there.  Next.  

No magic here.  Nothing.  But..something was off.  The souls of the dead were...missing.  Nothing here.  Odd.  No matter.  No gods, no demons, no other eldritch beings.  Fine.  Mysteries could be solved on other days.  He had more important things to do.  

He turned his gaze to the last galaxy.  Felt as his mind and spirit floated forward.  Immediately, he recognized this galaxy as two dimensions in one.  Strange.  But today was a day for oddness.  Warily, he crept forward, mentally entering the new galaxy.  

Emotion.  Hate.  Rage.  BLOOD.  Apathy.  Stagnation.  ROT.  Movement.  Hope.  CHANGE.  Lust.  Pain.  EXCESS.  So much.  Too much.  Conflicting ideas.  Dead uncountable, screaming in torment from a sea of souls.  A Great Game, a chess match between beings he didn’t even want to know existed.  And endless war, for billions of years, between factions so powerful he felt as if he were a single grain of sand in an hourglass, a person of such small importance that he could do nothing to change the future that would doom everything.  

He screamed as these emotions, as the chaos of this place engulfed him, clawed at him, threatened to drown him.  He tried to break free, used all of his power to try and get as far away from this place as he could, away from the madness.  He gritted his teeth and focused, focused harder than he ever had, focused harder than the time after the wreck where he could not get his hands from shaking.  He felt as if he were trapped, unable to run as if in a terrible nightmare.  He could feel as creatures, demonic inhabitants of this realm started to notice his presence, started to turn their hungry stares towards him as he struggled even harder, looking for any salvation.  

A light.  Faint, in the darkness.  He rushed towards it, the souls of the damned clawing at his cloak, the demons closing in with the force of an unstoppable tide.  He felt as if he were on a treadmill, unable to go anywhere, stuck in one spot, pursuers closing in.  He felt their hot, foul breath on his back, felt their horrible talons and teeth…

Then, nothing.  He spun.  Nothing.  No pursuers.  No demons.  He fell to his knees, breath coming in gasps.  After he caught his breath, he came to his feet and looked at his surroundings.  He was still in the sea of souls.  Still in this odd, horrible dimension.  But, this part was different.  A blinding, golden light shot up as if from nowhere, keeping the darkness and terror at bay.  What?  How?  He walked forward, surroundings bare, the great golden light making sure that no demons tread here.  As he walked, he felt...something.  

A single voice, screaming through the void.  A soul slit, in utter agony, bruised, beaten, but unbowed.  Strange felt the voice, using his powers to attune himself to it.  It had been in pain for...millennia now.  Pain was a constant companion.  But it would not give into the pain.  Never.  

Strange looked forward.  The beam was being produced by something...no.  Wrong.  Someone.  He shuddered involuntarily.  The sheer power required to produce such a thing, let alone to sustain it…  No wonder the voice was in pain.  Strange looked around again.  He had seen enough.  Knew enough.  Time to go back.  He leapt up, leaving this place, still keeping the light in sight...

When suddenly a being of unfathomable power and incalculable malevolence turned it’s gaze towards him.  He shied away from it.  Now was not the time to trifle with such a thing.  

Time, space, and reality warped around him.  Every color, yet no color swirled.  The being came into focus in front of him.  It was ever-changing, morphing from one form to the next with no pretext.  He hid his eyes.  To stare at it would be to go mad.  It studied him.  Looked at him with amusement, like a child studying insects under a microscope.  Then, it spoke.  Its voice was the worst thing Strange had ever heard.  Constantly changing, echoing like a nightmare into the void around him.  

“The Anathema's pathetic light cannot protect you for long, sorcerer.”  Strange winched, and shielded his face even more.  

“What are you?” he asked in response.  The being laughed.  Strange screamed.  The laugh echoed around him, promising the bending of time and reality as he knew them.  

“Do not ask which creature screams in the night.  Do not question who waits for you in the shadow.  It is my cry that wakes you in the night, and my body that crouches in the shadow.  I am Tzeetch, and you are the puppet that dances to my tune…”  Strange pulled back.  This was out of his league.  He made a motion, and activated his one, final, failsafe.  The locket around his neck opened, and a stone within glowed green.  The being, Tzeetch, grimaced, hissed, and launched at the same time.  

“Oh, ho!  Your pathetic trinket cannot keep you safe for long.  Every time you use your power, every time anyone bends the laws of nature to their own whims, I will be waiting.  Know that I will be watching you and guiding your fate, mortal.”  Strange said nothing.  He could do nothing against such a being.  “Now, go pack to where you came from.”  With a great, ringing, clap, Strange opened his eyes.  He found himself back in New York.  His cloak let him down with a thud on the hardwood floor.  He winced, then stood.  A meeting had to be called.  He just hoped superheroes would be enough to stop whatever came next.  

[Author’s note: For the curious, Tzeetch is pronounced zeen-ch]

I hope you liked it.  While I didn’t want to give you the names of any of the people in Strange’s visions, preferring instead for you to guess for yourselves, the line “I am Tzeentch and you are the puppet that dances to my tune” was just too good to pass up.  I also do hope that you could follow at least some of my ramblings there, but, if you couldn’t, feel free to ask me any questions you may have, along with any comments, criticisms, requests, or concerns.  Wherever you are, I hope you have a great day.  

[stardust-walker]

Undying Fidelity

(Loki X Sigyn!OC)

Summary: Sigyn is feeling v stressy and depressy after Loki dies. She volunteers to return to 2012 New York with Tony, Steve, Scott, and Bruce. Her reasons weren’t selfish, she promises. Chaos ensues. Big dorks. 

My first time writing for any fandom besides TWD but this idea has been in my head since the Loki trailer came out and I couldn’t shake it so here it is lmao.

Sigyn had felt like the world moved in slow motion from the moment the life had left Loki’s body. The snap had only made things worse. It had been 5 years since she had seen pretty much anyone other than Thor and sometimes the residents of New Asgard. She kept to herself more often than not. 

It was almost ironic how Loki had spoken of undying fidelity shortly before his life had been snuffed out. Meanwhile her own undying fidelity had seemed to leave her cursed with never-ending grief.

The talk of time travel had gained her interest almost as soon as the idea was pitched to the team. Asgard was an option but she knew that wouldn’t be the best option for her. Odds were that in the time they would send them back to, the residents would still think that she was dead.

Her heart had done a funny sort of flip-flop as they talked about heading back to New York. Her stomach sank even lower as an image of Loki was pulled up on the screen.

“So Sigyn will come to Asgard with myself and the rabbit,” Thor began to announce.

Her brown eyes drifted over to where Rocket had, once again, slapped himself on the forehead in frustration. “As much as I would love to go back to Asgard, I believe my skills are needed in New York.”

“You sure that’s such a good idea there, Frosty?” Tony quirked an eyebrow. 

“Are you sure it’s such a good idea to have two Hulks in one place? No offense, Bruce.”

“She’s right.” Steve spoke up, “I know what you’re thinking, Tony, and it won’t happen.”

Sigyn locked eyes with Tony for a moment before the older man relented. “Fine. But any funny business and I’m leaving your ass back in 2012.”

~

She hated travel. Whether it was through space or time, it all sucked to her. All the hair on her arms seemed to stand up inside of the suit as she shared one last worried look with Thor before they were off. Something was different about hurtling through space when you were a lot smaller.

“We all have our assignments,” Steve began as Sigyn stood up straighter and began to glance around. She knew he was around but more importantly she could feel him again.

A loud roar jolted her from her thoughts as she took a step closer to the men she had traveled with. There was the Hulk. Or the old Hulk. However time travel worked, there was the previous Hulk from that time smashing up a car like his life depended on it. 

A small smirk crept onto her face as she caught the embarrassed look that Banner had on his face. That was the champion she had seen back on Sakaar. A total wild animal. 

This Bruce, however, didn’t seem to have any of that in him anymore. Sigyn’s head tilted slightly as the rest of them watched the green man try to get back into how he was before. “Well, he’s a little confused..” She muttered.

“But he’s sure got the spirit.” Tony joked. “Let’s roll.”

Sigyn didn’t even have to ask where they were going. Sure, they had talked about it in the plans but she felt like she was almost in a trance as she scurried after Tony and Scott as Steve split off from them with a flash of a reassuring smile.

~

After not using her magic for what was probably years, she was surprised that she didn’t stumble as she landed inside the Stark tower right after Tony. As she slipped behind the stone wall to hide from their old selves, she couldn’t help but sneak a peek. Did her hair really look like that from behind? Ew.

“If it’s all the same to you,” her heart leapt into her throat, “I’ll have that drink now.” Tony gripped her arm a little too hard. Her eyes narrowed as she shot him a look.

The 2012 version of her let out a quiet snort of laughter. She remembered the look that Natasha had shot her. “What?” She heard herself say. 

“All right, get him on his feet.” The younger Tony Stark ordered. “Uh-uh. Not you, princess. Come on, Point Break. Get him up. We can all stand around posing up a storm later. By the way, feel free to clean up.”

“Wow I almost forgot how much of an ass you were, Stark,” Sigyn hissed through gritted teeth.

“At least I had style. Speaking of! Mr. Rogers, I almost forgot. That suit did nothing for your ass.” Tony shook his head in mock sympathy. 

Steve practically sounded like he was rolling his eyes. “No one asked you to look, Tony.”

Sigyn raised an eyebrow and shrugged in agreement as she caught sight of Captain America. That suit really was terrible. 

“I think you look great, Cap. As far as I’m concerned, that��s America’s ass,” Scott called out over the line.

“C’mon.” Sigyn whispered, “No one likes a...kiss ass.” She smirked as Tony shot her an appreciative look.

“Who gets the magic wand?” Nat asked.

Thank god that Tony knew his way around Stark tower more than anyone even after years of not living there. Sigyn’s eyes narrowed as she watched the Hydra agents in disguise begin to file into the apartment from their new hiding place.

A laugh nearly slipped out as she watched Loki transform into Steve from across the room. “I mean honestly,” he joked as he turned back into himself, “how do you keep your food down?” 

“Shut up,” Thor snapped as he placed a lock over Loki’s mouth. 

“I wish I could tell you dearest,” she heard herself say as she watched the scene unfolding in front of her. In spite of Loki being in chains. A prisoner. She watched herself grab him gently by the arm to lead him into the elevator with Thor almost like when they used to walk through the gardens together. “But then I would have to kill you.”

Tony’s grasp on her shoulder pulled her out of the moment as he pulled her back towards the window. The plan flooded back into her mind as she began to plummet backwards towards the ground. She let out a grunt as she was finally able to regain her own balance to drift back towards the ground without Stark’s help.

“What’s-a matter, Frosty? No knight in shining metal armor today,” Stark joked. 

“You burn my hair with those flaming feet of yours and you won’t make it back to the future,” she hissed through gritted teeth as the small green embers flickered from her own fingers as she continued on a quick course back to the ground. 

~

“Looking fresh, Stark,” Sigyn mumbled as she walked up beside Tony in her own security outfit. The only difference was her long blonde hair hung out from under the helmet. “Almost didn’t recognize you without the extra few inches of metal.”

“That really hurts me, you know. I would think for someone so old you would want to be a little nicer to the younger gen-ow!” Tony rubbed his arm as he received a hard pinch. 

“Shut up. Here we come,” she swallowed hard as she spotted herself again out of the corner of her eye. She walked side by side with Loki with her head held high. It was amazing how she could walk like that when she remembered how she’d felt. She had known that Loki had pretty much signed his own death sentence and yet still she walked beside him with pride. He was her husband and she was loyal to him. It was her gift and her biggest curse. 

“Thumbelina, do you copy? I’ve got eyes on the prize,” Tony chirped into the ear piece. 

“I’m going inside you,” Scott whispered back after a moment. Sigyn’s eyebrows shot up as she shot an amused glance at Tony. 

Sigyn flashed him a delicate smile. “I didn’t realize I would learn so much about your personal life today, Mr. Stark.”

“Quiet down, Glinda. We don’t want Elphaba to hear you.”

“May I ask you where you’re going?” Pierce’s voice made her skin crawl as she watched him approach the group. 

“A bit of lunch and then Asgard,” Thor answered cheerfully.

“Perhaps a stop for gas. I hear mileage on the Bifrost is killer these days,” past Sigyn cooed as she shot a look back at Loki over her shoulder. 

Pierce stood up a little straighter. “I’m going to have to ask you to turn the prisoner over to me.”

Sigyn could almost feel her throat close up all over again as she watched herself take a defensive step back towards Loki. Her hand came to rest a mere inch away from the handle of her knife.

Tony whispered beside her, “Easy, Sig. We know how this goes, right?” He paused. “I see what you mean by the whole fidelity thing though but the victory thing?”

“Hush!” She hissed back as she watched Loki turn slightly with an annoyed look in his eye. The woman turned to face the other way quickly as chaos seemed to be breaking out behind them again. Pierce had always been an asshole that much was sure. She wished she could’ve said she were surprised when she found out he was Hydra all along. Her stomach churned as more thoughts raced through her head of what they would have done to her husband if they’d gotten a hold of him in the first place.

Sigyn squeezed her eyes shut tight as she heard the crackle through the ear piece and a different sort of chaos broke out. “Oh my gods! Stark,” she heard her own panicked voice and the two of them turned to see herself abandon Loki and reach a hand out to steady Tony.

“Aw, you do care.” 

Sigyn resisted the urge to punch Tony in the chest for good measure. Her heart leapt as the suitcase with the tesseract spun towards them. Her pulse quickened as Tony leaned down to pick up the case and her gaze wandered for just a moment. Loki had noticed. 

“Good job, meet me in the alley,” Tony mumbled as he began to quickly exit the building. She was just about to take a few steps to follow when another explosion happened. Except it wasn’t so much of an explosion as it was a rampaging green monster busting down a door.

“Oh shit,” she hissed through her teeth as she skittered back. Stark landed at her feet with a groan but a softer noise drew her attention. A soft tinkling noise and her gaze flickered to the case. The tesseract. 

Time seemed to stand still again as Loki glanced over his shoulder and locked eyes with her. A confused look crossed the upper portion of his face for a moment before he glanced back towards the chaos ensuing over past Tony. He had noticed.

With one last look back at her, he knelt down to pick up the tesseract. She thought she heard Tony grunt something but her feet carried her quicker than she could ever remember running before. 

Just as Loki stood again, Sigyn came within one step of him. The sudden noise behind him made him turn once more. She gritted her teeth into a grimace as she placed both her hands on the tesseract. Sigyn fully intended to yank the damned thing right out of his fingers but before she could, she felt a strange sensation. A wall of blue and black smoke engulfed the pair of them.

She hated space travel.

~

Loki landed in the sand with a loud grunt despite the muzzle still over his mouth. The tesseract was still in his grasp. Had he even really seen what he thought he had?

A loud scream echoed through the air around him. His eyebrows raised as another portal seemed to open in the sky right above him. A figure all in black fell through it; arms flailed and legs kicked as the ground seemed to raise to meet them.

Another loud grunt left Loki, this time a more pained one as the smaller figure landed right on top of him. 

Quickly, the woman rolled to the other side and let out a quiet groan as she pulled the helmet from her head. With a fluid movement, the black object was tossed aside into the sand before she flopped back onto the sand. A grunt beside her alerted her to the presence of the man. Without even a glance to the side, she reached over and pressed a hand to his mouth to deactivate the muzzle. 

“Lovely of you to drop in, Sigyn,” Loki coughed as he took a deep breath.

Sigyn let out an annoyed grunt. “A pleasure, as always.”

Loki caught her gaze out of the corner of his eye as he rose to a sitting position. “You should have just let me take it,” he hissed through his teeth.

Sigyn let out a heavy sigh as she sat up and shrugged off the heavy black bulletproof vest and jacket she wore. “And let you cause more chaos and destroy more cities?”

Loki glanced over at her. A nearly imperceptible look of nervousness crossed his face before he smirked at her. “Who says that’s what I was going to do with it.”

Sigyn rolled her eyes as her gaze flickered forward to a small group of people that were moving slowly towards them. “I would like to think I know you better than you know yourself. Whatever you do, we’re in this together now.” She wasn’t about to lose him again. Not so soon.

“I’m positively touched,” he cooed.

“Til death do us part, darling.” And even after.

[unstoppableforcce]

golden

CHAPTER ONE: simplicity

pairing: Poe Dameron x oc! Anya

next part | masterlist | oc art

a/n: this is set before the Force Awakens and is a rewrite and expansion of one of my first fics. it’s a big one, this part is 6.7k which might be the longest thing i’ve ever written lol, but i love my oc and the relationships and the plot of this, i hope yall do too bc i can’t wait to write more!!! 

He had forgotten how beautiful the galaxy could be. 

Before him, through the clear windshield of the dilapidated transport ship, laid an expanse of towering mountains of green, thick like the jungles of Yavin IV he knew so well, and vast like the breath of the galaxy he was only beginning to familiarize himself with. In the valleys that sat between the intimidating heights of the jungle were ponds and lakes, illuminated by the contrast of their soft pink hue and the sunlight from three suns beating down on them overhead. And within each jaw-dropping landscape they flew over, the lanky jungle trees stretched high and interwoven with each other and the depths of the gentle pink lakes, he caught glimpses of the hidden civilization. 

Stone buildings of dark brown granite hidden beneath the twisted green vines and thick, overgrown tree trunks, windows of reflective glass cascading like waterfalls built back into the shape of the mountains. From as high as they were, flying above in the shaky transport ship, he could make out the movement of the people through the trees and on wooden crescent boats out in the milky pink water of the lake, working as the suns bore down on their backs. 

Flying in his X-wing, he had mission objectives and responsibilities. He travelled from point A to point B and never lingered in one place for longer than he needed to, not with the First Order patrols cracking down across the galaxy. He couldn’t remember the last time he had travelled so slow, the last time he got to truly see the colors of the universe around him which normally passed in hyperspeed blurs. 

He had forgotten how beautiful the galaxy could be. 

“Wow…” the awe fell from his lips unconsciously as his eyes stayed wide, scanning the horizon not only out of necessity given their flight path, but because he couldn’t look anywhere else. The D’Qar jungle was said to be beautiful, as beautiful as this, but for the past months he had been tasked with growing their new base there, he saw the inside of buildings and the burn of haunting fluorescent lights more than he did the real greenery and sunlight. 

It was… breathtaking to say the least. 

“I thought I misremembered,” the calm and collected voice of the General sounded off over his shoulder as he slowed his speed to navigate a lofty bit of cloud cover that surrounded the tops of the mountainous valleys he navigated between. “I convinced myself somehow that no place in the galaxy could be as beautiful as I remembered but I was wrong.”

He couldn’t blame her. If he wasn’t seeing it with his own eyes as his hands gripped tight to the controls of the ship, he wasn’t sure he would have believed it either. 

Waterfalls of the lightest pink hue, the sparkling of the natural granite deposits in the rock which shined equally as bright as the city construction as they continued over it, the polished rock made into skyscrapers which rivaled the surrounding mountains in height, the natural overgrowth of green vines and thick canopy tree tops… the more he saw, the more Poe found himself overwhelmed by the beauty. 

“How far until the palace?” He hummed with a brief quirk of his jaw back over his shoulder to Leia as his eyes stayed trained on the intricate habitational design and fields woven between towering structures which shadowed over smaller homes which led to more fields and rivers, rocks and jungle. 

“Not far, it’s impossible to miss.”

It hadn’t made sense at that moment, but he refrained from asking her to expand, trusting that whatever she meant would be clear to him as they kept going. Within the following minute, his trust proved itself. 

The nose of the ship lifted slightly to get them over a particularly tall mountain top, and as the clouds cleared away while he nosed back into the valley below, he found the most gorgeous architectural and natural displays he had ever laid his eyes on. Built, like the hidden structures he had seen earlier, into the most commanding mountain of sparkling brown granite in the landscape before him, the palace was a delicate, yet proud masterpiece with spires as high as the clouds and a bustling marketplace pouring out the front of it, spilling towards the shore of the pink ocean before it. 

Banners of colors brighter than he even knew existed fluttered in the wind coming in off the coast throughout the marketplace, and as he brought the ship in to a stop at the surrounding rim of the mountain above the palace’s top spires where all the other ships sat, he began to notice the vibrant crowd which flowed from the boats in the water all the way through the palace gates. He loved his home with all his heart, but this was the most beautiful place in the galaxy. It had to be. 

He and Leia quickly unloaded from the non-descript ship, and Poe made sure to leave his blaster secure in the cockpit as Leia had instructed him earlier, taking only his jacket and communicator with him. A jacket he quickly realized he would not be needing as the two of them stepped out amongst the ships atop the mountain and felt the overwhelming heat from the suns above them. 

“Don’t be too in awe, we are here for a reason.” He glanced back from where he stood near the edge of the flattened mountain top to see Leia stood as regal as ever with her hands linked behind her back and her stare that of a careful mother. “An important reason,” she minded once more and he had no choice but to nod. 

As he reluctantly pulled away from teh edge and joined her at her side while they drew closer to the nearby lift and the mindlessly chatting guards stood around it, he couldn’t help but voice the one thought he couldn’t get out of his mind,“I can’t imagine a place like this ever allying with the First Order.” 

With a voice lowered closer to that of a whisper while they passed the guards, Leia carefully minded him again, “There is a complicated history to Haiki, as beautiful as it is.”

“All the briefing memo said was that they were great allies during the war, pacifists, but great allies.” He responded in an equally hushed tone until the doors to their lift shut and they began descending deep into the dark, sparkling rock. “You said their leader was a friend.”

“Their King and Queen were friends of mine while I was still living on Alderaan and fighting with the rebellion, unfortunately the queen died shortly after the Empire fell and their king has been sick for almost as long.” She explained as the thick walls of granite passed quickly by them as they continued to descend. 

“Who are we here to meet with then?”

The lift came to a stop at the bottom and the doors opened to a dense crowd of people, all dressed in vibrant colors of thick woven fabric, skin decorated with thick strokes of black ink in intricate designs that varied from body to body. But as much as Poe wished to step forward and immerse himself into the lively crowd of the market, Leia’s firm grip on the elbow of his jacket pulled him in the opposite direction, towards an open doorway outlined by beautiful branches and bright flowers as her words quickly pulled him back to the reality of their mission there. 

“We’re meeting with the Princess,” Leia answered as they continued down the hall illuminated by windows which brought cascades of bright light into the halls as they travelled in a direction which seemed to Poe as if it were going deeper into the rock of the mountain. “I’ve met her before, but she was young, now she runs the whole planet and, from what I can tell, is not as eager about our alliance as her parents were.”

“You think she’s fielding threats from the First Order? You said they were pacifists--”

“It’s not about weapons or defense, it’s about supplies.” Leia sighed as the two of them came to a halt in the middle of the hallway, allowing the few locals who were walking behind them to pass in front and leave them alone with the bright sunlight. “We need their support, the medicine they create, the food they grow… If we don’t get it, I don’t know how much longer we can survive.”

Poe nodded, his overgrown curls bouncing with the nod of his head as he glanced around the empty hall and began pulling his jacket off his already sweat-slicked back. 

He knew they were there for support, but the briefing memo had been vague on purpose. No one else could know they were there, no one could know why they were there. If there was a leak, if the First Order somehow found out that the Resistance was reliant on Hakian support to survive, they’d decimate the entire planet, strip mine them for their resources and slaughter their peaceful population. 

He trusted their people, and he knew Leia did too, but he also understood why he had to be kept in the dark until now. This was just too important. 

“When we get in to see her, you’ll call her only ‘princess’ or ‘dekka’, never by her first name unless she gives you permission. And make sure you keep your distance, be respectful,” Leia warned as they slowly began walking again, turning a corner and entering another well-lit hall still travelling deeper into the mountain it seemed. “They are sticklers for tradition here and we can’t afford to play around.”

“What does ‘dekka’ mean?” 

“Respected one.” She answered quickly, keeping her voice close to him as another person came into view at the end of the hall. 

The man towered just like the mountains they flew through did, taller than any human man Poe had seen in person, nearly wookie height if he was being honest. But there was nothing intimidating about him, he merely flashed a bright smile and opened his arms in a welcoming stance. 

“Princess Leia, it is an honor to see you again.” The man bellowed out, meeting them at the end of the hall where it let out into a gorgeous room of tall ceilings and windows that stretched from the polished granite floor all the way up to the tallest rafters of twisted vine and tree root, letting in an electric amount of natural light. 

Leia quickly unlinked her hands from behind her back and wrapped them around the man, who stood at nearly twice her height, in a solid embrace. “Elias, it’s an honor to see you as well.”

“I had no idea you were coming, whatever can I help you with?” His thick accent continued to cut through the air, louder than Leia could muster by several dozen decibels. His command over the basic language wasn’t too strong, but he certainly made up for his shortcomings with heart and confidence.

However, no amount of strength of heart could overwrite the confusion outlined by his words, leaving an unsettling feeling in Poe’s gut. Judging by the slight deflation in Leia’s commanding stance, it was clear he wasn’t the only one. 

“No idea…” Leia chuckled nervously, trailing off with a brief shake of her braids. “We were meant to meet with Dekka Anya-Va, is she not here?”

Elias’ chuckle was equally as unsettled, something was wrong. 

“She hasn’t been in all day,” he added as another rough chuckle escaped his lips, “I didn’t know she had schedule, she didn’t tell me…”

Seven hours. That’s how far away Haiki was from D’Qar when travelling as fast as possible in the only non-resistance ship available, an old, deteriorating transport ship. He spent seven hours behind the controls on a trembling, shaking ship, and the Princess they were supposed to be meeting with to secure necessary supplies for the resistance was not there? Was this some kind of joke?

If it was, he didn’t find it very funny. 

Leia glanced back over her shoulder, finding the waiting confusion that covered Poe’s face and turned back to Elias wearing a very similar look. “She hasn’t been in at all?”

“She’s been… cutting me off, isolating herself from her advisors… I don’t know…” He stuttered over each and every word, clearly pulling them from a particularly painful place in his chest. 

And on any other day, Poe might have cared about the way the towering man’s intimidating voice trembled in his explanation. The overwhelmingly empathetic heart that beat steadily in his chest was accustomed to feeling for anyone from anywhere across the galaxy, but in this moment, the weight of the resistance was too apparent on his shoulders. 

If Leia said they needed this Princess to save the resistance, then that was that. They needed this Princess, and hearing that she was circumventing her advisors as much as she was avoiding their meeting only increased the nerves in his unsettled stomach. 

“You are welcome to wait for her in the throne room, I will send her your way whenever I find her…” Elias made a desperate attempt to relight the smile that had fallen from Leia’s diplomatic lips, but it only succeeded somewhat, as much as Leia could muster, feeling the same weight that Poe felt sitting heavy on her shoulders. 

“Thank you, Elias.” Leia bowed her head, and Elias quickly did the same. 

But the second Leia turned away from him and began nudging Poe back in the direction they came from, her diplomatic disposition fell away, returning her harsh, commanding stare. 

“She’s avoiding us?” Poe was quick to question as their pace hastened back down the brightly illuminated halls leading back to the busy marketplace. 

Leia shook her head, keeping her voice low as the two of them walked, shoulder to shoulder. “Remember when you asked if I thought she was fielding First Order threats already? I think we just got our answer.”

“What do we do?”

As the two of them entered back out into the dense crowd of the marketplace, Leia gave a brief shrug, still tugging him along with her as she fought against the flow of tattooed people. “Now, we have to find her.”

“Do you know where to look?”

The stare Leia gave him was one he was all too familiar with. It was the same look he got when he asked questions about procedure he already knew the answer to, the same look he got when he asked questions he knew she wouldn’t answer. It was a look that meant one thing. The simplest answer, the easier answer, the obvious one that was punching him directly in the face, was the answer he should be looking for. 

And with Leia, when it came to asking if she knew anything, the answer was without a doubt, a resounding ‘yes’. 

Following the banners, each one a color more vibrant than the last, Leia continued to push him through the marketplace. As they exited the front gate of the palace, the market grew impossibly larger and the crowd more dense, every soul moving with a specific purpose, from stall to stall with shoulders carrying heavy bags and faces bright with electric smiles. 

Poe couldn’t remember the last time he saw so many smiles in such a densely packed region.

The sun was beating down hot on his back, slicking his curls to his forehead in a light coating of sweat, but everyone around him seemed oblivious to it, either too distracted by the spices piled high in the booths, wafting a plethora of new scents around the beautiful square, or the swaths of fabrics covered in intricate stitches and designs. Was this what life was like where the war didn’t touch? 

People could walk around, fully immersed in their own vibrant culture wearing smiles brighter than the multiple suns which hung above them, seemingly without a care in the world when it came to the slaughtering and genocide happening around the galaxy at the hands of the First Order? Did they even know? 

Did the parents who let their kids run around with tightly woven baskets piled high with spiky blue fruit even know about the children across the galaxy who were stolen from their families and conscripted as nameless troopers? Did the elderly who sat off to the side even know that just last week, a village of respected elders on Nantoo were mowed down indiscriminately by First Order officers looking to set up base on their sacred land? Did any of them even know about the war?

If he lived here, maybe he could understand it. Maybe… 

But Stars, was ignorance really bliss when millions were being slaughtered? 

“I knew she’d be here…” Leia sighed, pulling Poe’s attention back to her pursuit as the market began to thin out closer to the pink translucent shore packed with crescent shaped boats of dark wood unloading at the docks. He didn’t know where to let his stare fall however, the water immediately took his attention, but as Leia kept walking, he fought to both find her stare and follow it in the same direction. 

The shore wasn’t packed, but there were just enough bodies to keep him guessing even as he followed Leia’s focus. Where was she looking--

He found her.

Nothing had changed, he still didn’t know exactly where Leia’s stare was directed nor did he have any verbal confirmation that he was looking in the right direction, but he was sure of himself, overwhelmingly sure of himself as his stare landed on the detailed tattoos that covered the back of the lone woman sat on the damp shore, isolated from the crowd. 

The thin interwoven fabric of the maroon dress that cascaded down her form was exquisite in it’s intricately stitched details, but nothing compared to the thick, jet black ink stripes that crested over her back and arms, the extent of the skin he could see from the angle they were approaching with. Everyone he had seen so far on this planet had some form of similar markings, be it extensive designs sprawling up their arms or small delicate images drawn on their hands or necks, but none compared to what he saw on her skin. 

It was like the dark ink was woven around her, like a vine crawling it’s way up a tree. Or maybe more aptly, it was a web, drawn by a diligent insect or maybe even claw marks from a creature, thick where the wounds ran the deepest and thin at the start and ends of each mark. 

Haiku itself was one of the most beautiful planets in the galaxy, but the woman before him was more beautiful than even that. 

It took an elbow in the side from Leia to snap him back to reality. 

“Why don’t you let me do most of the talking, yeah?” She countered, a knowing quirk to her brow as she nudged him again with her elbow. 

He wanted to argue back but Leia had already begun walking ahead of him and the second he moved to catch up, a large guard stepped up to block their path. 

This man was tall, like Elias back in the palace was, but he didn’t wear his intimidating height the same way. He was much broader in the shoulders, much wider in his stance, effectively blocking any line of sight either Poe or Leia had towards the princess. Yet unlike Elias, there was no friendly greeting, no real acknowledgement at all besides his narrowed scowl down towards the two of them. 

For a planet of self-proclaimed pacifists, Poe wasn’t really feeling at peace. 

Not until the soft hum of her voice flowed in from the gentle lull of the shore. “It’s alright, Xia, let them through.”

The wall of a man quickly stepped aside on her orders, revealing the exhausted collapse of her shoulders while she began to pull herself back up to her feet. The languid pull of her muscles was obvious with the delicate cut of the maroon dress across her skin, which contrasted the blood color of the fabric with a dark brown glow, not unlike the sparkle of the magnificent granite mountains under the overhead suns. 

“Dekka Anya-Va…” Leia addressed carefully but was quickly cut off by the return of her coarse hum of a voice. 

“I was hoping by not being at the palace that you would get the impression I didn’t want to meet with you,” her accent was thick, much like Elias’s but her comfort with the language was much more evident as it flowed much smoother from her lips despite the natural raspiness to her tone. It was a mesmerizing sound, complemented by the dulcet tone of the gentle waves, making it something he could easily get lost in if it wasn’t for his ability to still hear the words for what they were. 

Condescending. Nearly mocking if he was being honest. It just didn’t sit well with him, not when directed towards Leia. 

“We got the impression, we just ignored it,” Leia countered, pushing her careful tone to the side in favor of the tone she used when addressing her Commanders, a tone that commanded respect, even if the Princess seemed too aloof to provide it. 

She let out a rugged chuckle at that, jagged at the edges where it seemed to have fought through her throat and out from her perfectly shaped lips. “We…” she hummed, “I wasn’t aware you were bringing friends.”

The pointed tips of her words were sent like daggers with her stare as she turned from Leia to where Poe stood right beside her, hands linked behind his back and still holding his jacket in a tight grip. But as personal an assault it seemed, when he opened his lips to respond, Leia was quick to cut him off. 

“I--”

“This is my pilot, Commander Dameron.”

As unamused as the princess seemed to be, she still did a lot of stone-faced laughter, and that theme held true as her stare held on Poe’s furrowed and focused face. “Does the Commander have a first name?”

With a quick glance to Leia, then back to the Princess, he finally spoke for himself, answering “Poe,” simply. 

He didn’t know what he thought throwing his name into the conversation would add, but he couldn’t determine any reason why not to add it, not until the Princess turned her stare back to Leia and shuddered her shoulders back into a steady stance with her chin raised. “Would you mind telling Poe he can go wait by your ship, I don’t imagine it will be a long conversation.”

There it was again. Aloof, condescending, mocking even. Poe couldn’t stand it. 

“Excuse me--”

“Actually, Dekka Va, I brought him so he could join our talks,” Leia explained, one of her hands shooting up quickly to keep him in place by her side as she felt the heat of his temper rise with her words. 

“He doesn’t seem like he’d be much for conversation.”

He realized his natural disposition may not have been the most diplomatic, he also realized that hot-headed and cocky weren’t necessarily the best qualities for negotiating delicate alliances, but if she was allowed to talk to him with the tone she was taking, he was having a hard time understanding why Leia was keeping him silent. Why even bring him along?

It was infuriating. She was infuriating. She wouldn’t meet them in the palace, she was hiding on the beach, she was biting back with each and every one of her responses. He understood the alliance between her planet and the resistance was important, he really did, but why in the kriff was he even there--

“Dekka Anya-Va, I assure you, Poe is one of my most trusted Commanders and when our discussion eventually turns to shipment methods, he is the only one I trust for routes and numbers--” Leia began, still holding her hand out carefully in front of Poe only to drop it the second the Princess shrugged her shoulders and cut her off the same way she had been cutting Poe off. 

“There will be no shipment discussions.”

“Dekka--”

“I apologize for avoiding the meeting, but it wasn’t accidental, I truly have no interest in meeting with you, General.” She continued, using the brief second they stood silent and frozen in shock to navigate around them and back towards the market. 

Leia was the first to break out of it, Poe trailing behind, but he still remained quiet, holding back his boiling temper as the General continued to argue. 

“It’s a rather important conversation that we need to have.”

The princess continued forward as if she barely noticed them following, and as the density of the market's population began to increase the closer they moved to the palace, she made no move to slow her careful and practiced step through the crowd to accommodate their trailing. Again, condescending and aloof.

Leia broke his train of thought again as she fought with a quickened pace to find her way to her side and continue her argument just within range of Poe’s ears. “A face-to-face meeting will allow us to discuss our deal more intimately, take away any fears you may have and--”

If she cut Leia off one more time, it wouldn’t matter that she was the most respected being on this planet, Poe wasn’t going to be able to keep quiet for much longer. 

“I’m not afraid of anything, General.”

Before either Leia or Poe, with his temper steadily boiling over, could mount another argument, the princess pulled one of her guards aside, retrieving a small pouch of golden coins from him and turning back to the stall that had caught her eye in the first place. It was the stall they had passed earlier, filled with children and the spiky blue fruits which had caught his eye as he thought about the rest of the galaxy. 

And it was exactly where the princess was kneeling down. 

Her rough tone of voice, coated in it’s natural raspiness, flowed out much easier in her native tongue as she let a genuine smile take over her lips. The kids running the booth were bouncing out of their boots as she lowered herself to their level, and their excitement only grew as they began talking to one another in the Hakian language. It would have been heartwarming if Poe weren’t so frustrated. 

He didn’t understand what they were saying and it was clear as he glanced toward Leia and saw her focused brow that she didn’t understand the words being spoken either, but from the shared interactions, he had a pretty decent idea what was transpiring. 

She asked a question, the kids nervously responded, shaking their heads and trying to offer their product for free before she convinced them to accept her coin. Again, a heartwarming display that he didn’t have time for. 

The sun was hot, boiling hot down the back of his neck, and the anger bubbling from within his chest was heating him up from the inside out, making the whole experience ten times worse. He didn’t need to see any heartwarming display, he needed to say something, and he was becoming increasingly overwhelmed with the feeling that when he did, things wouldn’t go well. 

Yet the moment seemed to be drawing closer and closer as the Princess stood back to full height with a bag full of the spiky fruit, passing her coins back to her guard. He was ready to open his mouth, to unload on her with the same hot-headed cockiness that Leia feared he would lead with, but he was again denied the chance as she silenced him by turning her back to the two of them and reentering the crowd, heading back towards the palace. 

It wasn’t until they were down an isolated hallway of the palace that she turned back, opening the bag of fruit and pulling three of the spiked fruit out easily. 

“Dekka--” Leia tried, but the princess silenced her, sticking one of the fruits into her hand before carelessly tossing one in Poe’s direction. 

She was making a point, and they had no choice but to stand there and take it. 

“This is Mewe, one of our planet’s sweetest fruits,” she hummed, holding up one of her own and turning it gently for them to admire even if all Poe could manage was a subtle roll of his eyes. “They cannot grow anywhere else, they require massive amounts of sunlight, and they are one of the most versatile fruits that exist anywhere in the galaxy, edible on their own, full of health, easily fermented, their juice can soothe sore throats and upset stomachs...”

Puncturing the tough, spiky skin with one of her nails, the vibrant teal juices began to drain quickly out of the shell, too quick for even her quick mouth to catch as she brought the fruit to her lips. The following bite she took was effortless following her brief struggle with the dripping juices, and as much as Poe hated whatever point she was trying to make with this display, as Leia followed her lead and took a bite, he had no choice but to do the same. 

And as desperate as he was to stay boiling with anger when he looked at her, even with teal juices dripping down around the corner of her mouth, his mind was flooded with a delicious distraction the second his tongue touched the inner meat of the vibrant fruit. It wasn’t enough for Haiki to be the most beautiful planet in the galaxy, nor was it enough for her to be the most beautiful woman he had ever seen in person, they also needed to have the most overwhelming natural fruits. 

Each hesitant chew he took sparked flavors across his tongue, wild, exotic, unlike anything he had ever tasted before. It wasn’t just that his diet had consisted of bland ration packs for the past few years, the taste was truly sweeter and more complex than anything he had ever had on his tongue. 

As much as he hated giving her the satisfaction, while he looked up from the greenish inside of the skin to find her careful stare, he could see that he was doing little to hide his overwhelming satisfaction with the flavor given her increasingly smug smirk. 

“Haiki is a special place, I don’t think you realize that.” The Princess continued carefully, shifting her stare back to Leia directly. 

“We do, Dekka, however--”

“I don’t think you do.” She was quick to counter. “You would have me pledge my sponsorship to your futile movement and sacrifice my planet and the millions of souls who live here to the wrath of the First Order with nothing to offer me in return. You must think my planet worthless.”

Leia shook her head, taking a brief second to swallow the rest of the fruit she held in her mouth and regain her composure in order to fight back, “We can offer your planet protection from the First Order--”

“Because that worked so well for Alderaan, Raysho, Cardota and Courtsilius?” Again, the princess, without hesitation, cut her off. And this time, Poe was done holding his tongue, the heat finally sending his anger boiling over. 

“And pledging your allegiance to a sociopathic regime of murderers is preferable?”

It was exactly what Leia had feared. It was the exact reason she had tried so hard to keep him quiet. Not because she feared he would shoot and miss, but because of his tone. 

Each word drenched in a level of disrespect he hadn’t earned with her, stepping over a line he didn’t even realize, but one Leia couldn’t help him back from, even as she reached up to grab hold of him to prevent his anger from carrying him closer to the Princess and making things worse. 

“I’ll do whatever it takes to protect my planet.” She held her stance even as Poe stepped up, making no move but the slight uptick of her chin as he got closer. “As a peaceful planet, we have no options to arm ourselves outside of diplomacy and the First Order is being far more convincing.”

“Whatever they’ve said is lies, you can’t seriously consider trusting them.” He spoke like a man with no knowledge of his actions, entirely oblivious to the way her guard tightened their stances the closer he got, too blinded by his anger as she continued to argue back against him. 

“Because the resistance has never lied to us? Because you can be trusted implicitly on your word?”

With another step forward, eliminating any space between the two of them, Poe effectively cut Leia and her futile attempts to get him to back down out of the conversation. “What have they promised you? Safety? Isolation from the war? It’s only a matter of time before they are enslaving your people and stealing your resources--”

“They’ve promised me protection and have been nothing but cordial, unlike you and your failing resistance.” She scoffed, shaking her small bun of greying hair enough to let loose a few strands as she refused to back down. “So you’d do best to mind yourself before you overstep a boundary you can’t walk back from.”

There was a sense of finality to her tone as she ended her sentence, one Leia picked up on immediately, but even as she moved to grab more forcefully at Poe’s arm to pull him back to reality, he continued to fight his way out of it. Hot-headed, stubborn, cocky. She should have known better than to bring him along. She should have known things would go the way they were going. 

“You want me to play nice? People are dying.” 

Everything that happened next happened all too fast. The words came spewing from Poe’s lips and as the Princess turned away, no longer requiring herself to be subject to his cruel intonation, he reached out and grabbed her arm before he could be stopped. 

In the back of his mind, he could still hear the echoing warning Leia had provided him, telling him to keep his distance and speak with nothing but respect, but the flashes of war echoing in his head and the fire burning in his chest were crackling too loud for anything else to matter. A part of him knew it was out of line, that same part of him was begging for him to stop, and yet his hand still found the smooth, tattooed skin of her forearm, holding her in place as she moved to turn away in frustration. 

Leia took a strong hold on the sweat-soaked back of his shirt and yanked him back, but the damage had already been done. “Stand down, Dameron,” she tried out but by the time he released her arm, the guards had already descended upon him, gripping him by each arm and kicking the backs of his legs in to drop him to his knees. 

“I think the damage has been done, General.” Her voice was firm in her resolve and equally firm as her language switched and her tongue released a flurry of orders towards the guards who held the stubborn, fighting Dameron on his knees. 

“What the kriff-- I barely touched her--” He fought as their grips grew tighter, forcing him frozen where they held him. 

Leia tried again, this time not to hold Poe back but to carefully convince the princess, “Dekka Anya-Va, please…”

But her mind was made up and nothing either of them could do would change that. 

“We’ll let him think himself over with a sleep in our cells,” she explained to Leia as her stare then fell back to the squirming form of the curly haired and now defenseless pilot. “You can leave with him in the morning.”

“Are you out of your mind?”

“No, but it seems you might be.” The rough, raspiness to her tone which had been so distracting as it filtered out her accent shifted to something nearly playful, as if the whole display before her was amusing. He was being restrained by a towering guard of thick muscle on each side and she had the audacity to chuckle so plainly in his face, only making him fight more even if he knew it was futile. 

Leia stepped forward carefully towards the princess but before she could muster any last defense, the princess gave a wave of her hand and the guards, with shoulders wide in intimidating bulk, heaved the fighting pilot to his feet and began backing him up, dragging him in the opposite direction. 

“Dekka Anya-Va, let me apologize for his actions--”

“Mensha?” Her raspy voice interrupted the General before any real defense could leave her lips, ushering a young maid out from the small crowd which gathered around the display. “Please escort the General to a room where she can wait, give her anything she needs.”

“Dekka Anya-Va--”

“I’m not my mother, General, the sooner you learn that, the better for all of us involved.”

The long walk back into the depths of the granite palace was all too lonely as the Princess dismissed each and every member of her staff which approached her, even waving away the genuine concern on Elias’ brow and leaving him in the halls as she continued to the throne room. Her back was screaming out from the straight form she maintained with each and every step, but she held her stance and walked on, shoulders firm and chin up, just as she was taught. If anyone passed her, they had to see her as what she was, their leader. 

And leaders didn’t waver, no matter how strong the vacuum of emptiness swirling within their chest was, not when there were eyes to see. 

But the second the towering doors of intricate dark oak shut behind her, leaving her alone in the expansive and empty throne room, her shoulders fell in, collapsing her perfect form as her chin fell to her chest. The weight which settled there was too great, and the hollow gorge that tore through her heart was too powerful. 

Did he really think it was that easy?

Her throat burned with the heat rising out of her chest and her legs grew weaker with each step until she collapsed back against the exquisite throne of dark, sparkling granite consumed by overgrown vines, the words from the hot-headed pilot echoing through her mind, latching onto every thought. 

Did he think it was all that simple? Did he think she saw the blood on the hands of the First Order and so easily ignored it? Did he think it was that easy?

A sociopathic, murderous regime… did he really think she didn’t realize what they were? 

The bubbling in her gut continued on as her thoughts swarmed with a buzzing around her mind and her head fell forward into her hands where her elbows rested on her knees. Her fingers made furious circles of her temples but it made no difference, his words were there, haunting her mind and inescapable. 

Did they really think she didn’t know right from wrong? 

With the responsibility for millions of souls resting heavy on her back, the fate of her kind in her hands, it just wasn’t as easy as good versus bad. No matter how badly she wished it was. 

“Dekka Anya-Va,” the faint voice of one of her staffed maids entered her thoughts as the small woman carefully tiptoed into the room. “The prisoner is… angrily shouting for a meeting with you.”

Her back straightened on instinct, sending a shooting pain up her spine with the quick pace of the change. A pain she could barely mask with her regal tone as turned her stare towards the young woman, “we’ll leave him to calm himself down for now.”

“Of course, Dekka.”

As the door shut again, leaving her alone with her thoughts again, a sigh of insurmountable exhaustion fell from her lips and she collapsed back into the uncomfortable shape of stone. 

If only things could be that simple...

tags: (open)

@cammisanders @rogueonestan @blacksquadron-rougetwo @videogamesandpoorlifechoices @trust-dreamcatcher @mistermiraclee @witchyavenger @randomness501​ @buckstaposition​

[cake-writes]

Point

Pairing: Stucky x Reader

Warnings: Fluff, Polyamory

Word Count: 3k

Requested by @thorman-barnes​​: What about Stucky having a crush on one of the newest Avengers (reader)?

I figured I should probably format it properly since it’s longer than my usual drabbles. Enjoy!

The first thing Bucky noticed about you was your smile, which lit up your face in such a way that the breath caught in his throat. Despite the stark, fluorescent lighting in the hallway, you were gorgeous, and the laugh that followed was even more so as you shoved Sam in the shoulder with a certain playful familiarity. 

You were friends, it looked like.

That was when Sam spotted him standing there like an idiot, and he introduced you with a grin – prefixed your name with ‘Captain,’ which made you snort. It wasn’t very ladylike, but Bucky didn’t care. He thought it was cute. It suited you.

“Come on, Sam, it’s ‘Major,’ now. Haven’t these good ol’ boys taught you a little respect?” you teased, nodding over to Bucky who was apparently one of the 'good ol' boys' you were talking about. Sam made a show of rolling his eyes and despite your casual demeanour with him, you addressed Bucky a bit more kindly, “Sergeant Barnes, right?”

“Oh, uh, yeah,” he stammered.

Smooth.

It caught him off guard, someone using his title from the Army. All anyone called him these days was the Winter Soldier, but not you. No, instead you directed that beautiful smile right at him and held out your hand. “It’s nice to finally meet you, Sergeant.”

“Bucky,” he corrected, finally regaining his bearings a little as he shook your hand. Your handshake was surprisingly firm, much firmer than he would have expected from a woman. Then again, women these days were far more empowered than he was used to, not that that was a bad thing. It was just a new dynamic for him to adjust to along with everything else.

“Well then, Bucky,” you said, eyes twinkling with mischief, “You wanna help me teach our boy here some manners?”

Oh, he liked you already.

The first thing Steve noticed about you was your ass.

He didn’t mean to, honest, he didn't – just happened to round the corner into the plane hangar at the exact same time you bent over to pick up the file you’d dropped. He certainly wasn’t the type to really look at, let alone ogle a woman until he felt some kind of romantic way about her, but Christ, did you have a fantastic ass. The dark blue catsuit on your body almost seemed tailored to fit, enhancing every single one of your curves.

Any other day he would have helped you collect the strewn papers, well-mannered as he usually was, but he couldn’t help but stare. You must have just gotten back from a mission if the torn fabric on your thigh was any indication; not to mention he could smell the gunpowder residue on your clothing, coupled with the slightest hint of your sweat and inwardly he cursed his enhanced senses for it. You smelled so good.

When you stood back up again, papers in hand, you spun around on your heel and made to leave the hangar. The little gold oak leaf on your collar glinted in the muted sunlight: a Major, then, but he didn’t know what branch. Air Force, maybe. You were wearing blue. What drew his attention away from the fact that you technically outranked him was your hair – glossy, just like your lips, he found, when they curled into a smirk.

You’d caught him staring.

His face was beet red before he even had a chance to introduce himself. Not that he really needed to, because he was in uniform and you were already holding your hand out for a handshake. He didn’t fail to hear the amusement in your voice when you offered him your name.

“Steve,” he responded, swallowing thickly when he realized exactly how small your hand was in his, how nice it felt. “Steve Rogers.”

“I’ve heard good things about you, Captain.” The way your eyes trailed down his body for the briefest of seconds before they snapped back up to his made him nervous, but not so much as when you added, “Very good things.”

At that, his throat went bone dry.

To say that the mission was awkward would have been an understatement.

It was unplanned, a hostage situation: rescue a group of rookie SHIELD agents who had royally fucked up. The only people on hand were the three of you, unless you counted Bruce, who was in the middle of a time-sensitive experiment in the lab and he really didn’t want a week’s worth of meticulous work to go down the drain.

In your opinion, the mission should have taken priority, but you told him that you’d manage somehow. If nothing else, Bruce Banner could pull off some serious puppy dog eyes. You didn't realize until after you got in the elevator that you'd screwed yourself.

You found Steve and Bucky in the gym. That was where they usually were, either there or in the kitchen because their metabolisms were ridiculous and they were in a perpetual state of eating. You’d been working with them for about half a year now, and you still didn’t understand how they managed to get anything else done.

“We’ve got a mission,” you said abruptly, throwing a couple of gym towels at them.

Steve caught his at the last minute with an easy, “Thanks, doll,” a pet name that never failed to make your cheeks flush. You were sure he did it on purpose, because there was always a distinct twinkle in his eyes that let you know he’d noticed your reaction to it.

Just like now.

Bucky’s caught him right in the face, however, because he’d been in the middle of a deadlift and his hands were occupied. He dropped the barbell with an annoyed grunt and pulled the towel off of his head, giving you a look – the look, the one that conveyed exactly how much he appreciated your bullshit. Hint: he didn’t, but the playful smile on his lips made your heart warm.

That was how you ended up on the Quinjet with them. You’d been on missions with them before, of course, but never just the three of you. There was always at least one other person there, or just one of them. Never like this.

It was awkward as hell because you’d been attracted to Steve and Bucky since you met them, and as obvious as you tried to be about it, they just wouldn’t take the hint despite how much they flirted right back.

Steve was subtle. He snuck glances at you every now and then, called you ‘doll’ and ‘sweetheart’ so casually, slipped sweet little notes into your duffel bag right before a (planned) mission. Sometimes, you found them and they lifted your spirits. Other times, you found them at the worst possible moment, like a couple weeks ago when Tony yanked it out of your hands and read it out loud to everyone on the jet, the two of them included.

You didn’t talk to Tony for a week after that. Or Steve. It was embarrassing as hell, passing notes back and forth like the two of you were in high school when you were supposed to be a professional. You still had yet to live it down.

Of course, his notes never contained anything of real substance. He liked to compliment you – your hair, a new blouse, the bracelet you’d bought yourself for your birthday. You blushed anyway. He also liked to remind you to be careful, or to try out one of the new fighting techniques he’d taught you.

Steve was sweet.

Bucky was just as stupidly obvious as you were. He was handsy with you; liked to touch you, feel you, know you were there, especially after a difficult mission or when either of you had a particularly gruelling day and you absolutely loved it.

Bucky was by no means good at giving massages, but he liked to try, and to his credit he usually managed to work the soreness out of your neck and shoulders. When you returned the favour, he always played into your hands like putty. Made you feel a little proud, actually – proud and turned on, which was a nightmare of a combination in such a relaxed atmosphere.

You were always so relaxed with him.

You often found him in the middle of the night in the living room, kept awake by what you assumed were the horrors of his past and just as often, you stayed with him until the early hours of the morning. More than once, he’d fallen asleep with his head in your lap while you threaded your fingers through his hair.

Bucky put on a tough front, but you knew deep down that he was just as sweet as Steve.

Needless to say, the whole situation was incredibly frustrating.

You were playing a dangerous game, though, and you knew it. They were best friends. Nothing would come between them, not even you as much as you desperately wanted to. That was one reason you never made a move. Another was because they’d been raised in a different time, when it was the man’s job to make the first move. As dumb as it sounded, you didn’t want to emasculate them.

So you made your intentions obvious as hell, but still no dice.

It was a quick flight. You briefed them on the way, running point on the operation because you were the one who’d received the phone call. You'd led plenty of missions in the past, of course, but not here and not with them. Awkward. Nerve-wracking. Uncomfortable. That's what it was.

Even so, it went without a hitch. The four agents you rescued were beyond grateful, but somehow, the flight back was even worse.

One in particular wanted to take you out to dinner as a thank you. You politely declined at least three times, but he just wouldn’t take ‘no’ for an answer until you made a clear point of taking the plane off autopilot to get away from him. Not only were you way out of his league (not to toot your own horn), but it was late, you were tired, and you already had someone else in your heart.

Two someones.

The Quinjet was tense and quiet until you finally arrived back to the compound. The agents were too busy licking their wounds, so to speak; Steve and Bucky were having a hushed discussion at the back of the plane; and you, well, you were in a mood.

It pissed you off that he hadn’t taken your ‘no’ the first time. How disrespectful. You were an officer in the United States Air Force, for fuck’s sake, and you deserved to be treated with respect. He was just some low-level agent, and it was entirely his fault that you had to sacrifice your Friday night.

Dick.

You worked yourself up so much by the time you got back that you missed the sidelong glance the two boys gave you before they helped the group of agents off the plane and to the medical ward.

You’d be the last to disembark. Because you took point on the mission, it was your responsibility to ensure that everything was just as you’d found it: full tank of fuel, first aid kit replenished, floors clean and tidy. You’d seen Steve run through the checklist plenty of times. Bucky, too. Now it was your turn.

Grumbling to yourself, you dropped some gauze and bandage wrappers into the trash bag in your hands. The agents had been in pretty bad shape, even him, so much that you were going to have to mop the floors after because they’d bled all over the place. Fantastic.

After a quick tidy, you slung the first aid kit – duffel, really – over your shoulder and went to the cabinet in the hangar where the extra supplies were kept. You had to bend over and dig for some of the things you needed, specific sizes of gauze and certain lengths of bandages but you finally found them; and, when you shut the cabinet doors, you nearly jumped out of your own skin.

“Jesus Christ,” you swore, throwing a packet of gauze at Bucky. “Don’t do that!”  

This time, he caught it easily. “What’s got your panties in a knot?”

“Nothing,” you told him, but the angry way you shoved the supplies back into the kit made it pretty obvious that you were lying.

“Sure doesn’t seem like nothing,” Bucky commented dryly.

You frowned at him before you held out your hand, palm facing up. “Give me that.”

His brows rose in amusement. “I’ll give it to you if you tell me.”

What a child.

You rolled your eyes and went to snatch it away yourself, but he held it over your head, taunting you with it. Now, you weren’t exactly tall, but Bucky sure was. He was tall and strong and when you jumped for it, he just held it up even higher.

“God damn it, Bucky,” you cursed. “Give it here.”

“Ask nicely,” he teased, lowering it so that it was within your reach once more.

You groaned. “I’m so not in the mood for this.”

But then you went for it again anyway – except this time, you didn’t realize that he’d brought it much closer to himself until you landed. You wound up having to catch yourself with one hand on his shoulder, otherwise you probably would have smacked heads or something equally as stupid.

“You’re so predictable,” he said, then, and you weren’t sure whether to huff indignantly or ask what he meant.

Inside, though, your heart was pounding, not because of the jumping but because of your close proximity. Something was different. This wasn’t like that relaxing atmosphere on the sofa, either in the middle of the night or with his thumbs massaging deep circles into your shoulders. There was tension, and a hell of a lot of it.

You could feel his body heat through his tac jacket – he always ran hot, and so did Steve – and you felt your cheeks start to burn. You were way too close.

When you went to step away, however, his free arm slid around your waist and he pulled you closer, flush against him. Your breath hitched when you looked up into his eyes: such a beautiful pale blue, normally, but darker than usual.

“What are you doing?” you asked quietly, fingers curling instinctively in the material of his jacket.

“Kissin’ you.”

You didn’t have time to respond before his lips were hot on yours, and you absolutely melted against him. Your other hand came up to grasp at his jacket in a desperate attempt to pull him even closer as his talented mouth worked yours, sending a rush of heat through you straight to your core.

When your hair was gently brushed to the side, it didn’t register at first; only when another pair of lips pressed a kiss to your neck did you suddenly break away, eyes jumping between the two of them in alarm.

“What’s happening right now?” you asked, like an idiot.

“We saw someone flirting with our girl,” Steve told you, one of his large hands slowly sliding down your spine to the small of your back, and you couldn’t help but lean into his touch. “Didn’t like it a whole lot, did we, Buck?”

“Not one bit.” Bucky released you, then, and gave you a gentle push toward Steve. “Come on, sweetheart. Don’t be shy.”

You stared at Bucky for a moment, flabbergasted, before you finally turned to Steve. The problem was that you did feel shy all of a sudden. You weren’t sure why. Maybe because it was a lot to take in all at once, after you’d convinced yourself that everything had all been an exercise in futility.

Then Steve smiled at you -- sweet and genuine, just like always -- and pulled your hand into his, giving you enough confidence to bury your fingers in his hair and bring him down for a kiss. It was passionate, full of months of pent-up frustration just like the one you’d shared with Bucky. Your body was on fire, burning with need and desire and everything you’d always wanted from the two of them.

When Steve pulled away, you looked up at him in a daze.

“Guess you didn’t read my note,” he said softly.

Your voice was breathy when you spoke again, “What note?”

“I asked you to hang around so we could talk. It’s probably still in your bag.”

Bucky snorted. “Why would she check her bag before she got back to her room?”

That was the same question you were about to ask, but when Steve shot him a pointed look, it all clicked into place.

“Steven Grant Rogers,” you said incredulously, taking a purposeful step away so that your back was pressed up against Bucky’s chest instead – the very same Bucky who slid his arms around you protectively, chuckling a little into your hair.

Steve’s face immediately flushed at your tone.

“I-- I didn’t mean--” he stammered. “I meant for privacy!”

You laughed at that, taking Bucky’s metal hand into one of yours and holding your free one out to Steve. It felt like a weight had been lifted off your chest; either that, or you were floating on air. Possibly both. “Well, I guess we’ll need some privacy, then, won’t we?”

The only other time you’d seen Steve’s face so beet red was when the first time you met him, and it was just as endearing then as it was now.

He was sweet. Bucky was, too. 

They were yours. 

Both of them.

(If you like my work, please consider donating to my Patreon or my Ko-Fi!)

[evien-stark]

✧I Need You✧ Chapter 119

[Light trigger warning for the first bit of the fic, as Tony is sick with the flu and some mentions of throw up occur though nothing graphic! ]

Tony was absolutely insufferable when a diagnosis of the flu came back- after getting him to agree to see a doctor, anyway. For security (and press) reasons, and because his condition deteriorated so rapidly into not being able to keep food down, you had to pay to have a doctor do a house visit. Which wasn’t really that hard- the latter, anyway. Tony was insistent it would pass, but as he got paler and worse by the day, eventually you vetoed his vote and just got Happy to bring someone quietly. 

And, yes, once the doctor took some swabs and confirmed it was the flu… Tony may as well have done his frail version of a victory lap. Although you were extremely grateful when the doctor backed you up by saying, “Stress certainly isn’t helping. Not sleeping isn’t, either.” Something you thanked her for immensely outside the bedroom. 

She left you with instructions for bedrest, prescriptions for medicine, a laundry list of good food and a stern warning that maybe next year the superheroes of the world should maybe think about getting flu shots. You assured her you would take her advice to heart. First by shutting down the labs for mandatory deep cleaning, and then by issuing a company wide email about health and safety in the colder months. A helpful import shipment of hand sanitizer, cleaning supplies, and otherwise helpful office gear to help everyone get through the chillier season. 

Then you turned your attention back to the person who mattered most. The first day of the meds seemed the hardest. Or maybe it was his sickest day since that supposed intern had sneezed on him. The both of you just laid in the bathroom together, you with your back against the sink cabinet, knees tucked up, rubbing his back as he was half curled with an arm over the seat of the toilet. 

Sweating profusely. Shirtless at this point. Pale. Yet still somehow had the strength to smile. “You know- I’ve been told- the ones who hold your hair back when you’re puking your guts out are the ones you wanna keep around-” Sounding winded, eyes closed. 

It was tough seeing him like this, but if he still had even the tiniest bit of strength to joke in between emptying his insides, he must have been alright. “You want a headband for your bangs, honey?” Reaching over to smooth them back from his drenched forehead. 

Though he shook his head, at least that’s what it seemed like he was doing, he cracked his eyes open a quarter, directing that hazy smile your way. “This remind you of anything?” 

A snort escaped you. “You’re lucky I love you a lot more than I did the last time we were like this.” 

“So you admit-” Ducking his head a little, interrupted by a gurgle in his stomach, eyes closing tight for a second, clutching hard to try and fight off another round. When he got it all under control, he drew in a shaky breath. “You admit it-” 

“I’m not admitting anything.” You touched the backs of your fingers over his temple. “I love you now. That’s what matters. Stop trying to romanticize the past.” 

“Just ours.” Head turned town, a quiver of a laugh.

You rolled your eyes, although only fondly… maybe a tiny touch annoyed, setting your head back against the cabinets. “I must have loved you, I guess. To not go to the press with the story Tony Stark Can’t Actually Hold His Liquor.” Teasing him only a little. 

“It was one time.” “That you remember.” 

His grin was weak and drawn. “So you admit you’ve been taking care of me this whole time.” 

“Cleaning up after you is much different than taking care of you.” 

Opening his glassy brown eyes to gaze at you, he reached over, hand barely brushing yours, a little tremor in his arm. “Is it? I think I’ve always appreciated it the same way.” 

“Stop being so dramatic. You’re not dying, you know.” Touching your fingers over his palm in a light massage that worked up towards his wrist. You eased when he closed his eyes, breathing out a little bit more of a relaxed sigh. “You don’t have to try and wax poetic about our relationship. You used to be a bit of an asshole, if you don’t remember.” 

“You know-” Breath catching in his throat as he had another moment of physical struggle with himself. “-...I’m very sick… can you be nice to me?” 

“I’m always nice to you.” Reaching over again to settle your hand between his shoulder blades and knead there gently. 

“Sure- but- I’m puking my guts up here. Can you just let me have my way for once?” Exhaling a half laugh, one that sounded just a touch nervous. Probably on the verge of another vomit episode. 

You let go of an overly dramatic sigh. “Oh. Alright, Tony. Just this once.” Clearing your throat as you declared, “You were always a wonderful, caring, kind man who never got into unnecessary trouble and definitely never tried to fuck everything that moved- including your employees- and we were always destined to fall in love. And I always had deep, unending feelings for you and your heart always yearned for me, you just didn’t know how to say it.” 

His hand moved over to search, gripping a spot on your leg, as a few aching chuckles escaped him. “Was that so hard?” Double-hitching again before he couldn’t hold it any longer. This time was shorter than the rest, but still tough on him. When he was finished, and you handed him a warm washcloth, he shuddered out a thought, “Thank you… I love you…” 

“I love you, too. Take it easy.” Brushing his hair back again. 

He fell quiet for a long moment, and you thought he might have been drifting to sleep, but there was a little simmer of hesitancy about him that told you he was thinking about… something. When he finally opened his eyes again, “Listen- and- please tell me no if it’s no- but- I can’t relax like this- and it’s making it worse I think- can you… I don’t know what I’m asking for but- can you?” 

It wouldn’t have taken an empath to know he was on the edge. Anyone who had ever been this sick in their lives would know that. Scared of when the next round of your insides coming up would be. Drawn taut. He was asking you for something you understood immediately, even if he seemed unsure how to voice it. Nervous about that, too. Worried he was asking you for too much. 

Dropping beneath with a slow flutter of your eyes, you made an easy connection, stepping over low rumbling waves to settle a hand on his heart. Imparting to him some ease. Some calm. Beating back that light internal struggle with himself that was only making this worse. 

Blinking your eyes open as you sat next to him, you threaded your fingers through his hair as he drew a long breath in, and then exhaled a much more relaxed sigh, muscles releasing from their tight knots. “Thank you… thank you…” It only took another moment for a small sliver of that selfsame anxiety to creep back in. “-was that… I shouldn’t have asked-” 

“You’re alright.” Hushing him. Trying to bring him down off that ledge one more time. “I’d rather use them like that than almost anything else.” Sharing this with him, being able to help him… much better than potentially manipulating people. Even if it was for the supposed greater good most of the time. Yes. This was much better. 

“I love you.” His voice coming out much more tired. He seemed like he might slip unconscious any moment now. 

“I love you, too.” 

“Will you carry me back to bed?” 

You couldn’t help your grin. “I think you might be getting too used to that.” 

Even with his eyes closed, he grinned back. “Who doesn’t love a strong woman that can tote them around?” 

“In that case I’ll throw you over my shoulder and lug you off to bed.” 

He hummed out a light noise. “A thought for later. Right now I think my delicate condition requires being carried around princess style.” 

At this you really couldn’t help your laugh. “Oh. Okay. Sure thing, princess.” 

“Really living the dream, here.” Sharing in your mirth. At least he was strong enough to do that. 

                                                    --- 

The sickness clung to him until about the mid of December. It was when he was finally looking clear and, thank god, healthy again that his usual stirrings of cabin-fever began to show themselves. An end of the year holiday party was imminent. As usual. Not that you minded. It would be nice to have a little get together after having quarantined with Tony for that long, if only because you were taking care of him. Strangely you hadn’t gotten sick, even sharing such close quarters with him. ...or maybe it wasn’t strange at all. Best not to think about it. 

It was actually sort of nice to be able to throw yourself into the finer details of party planning instead of health managing. Tony had disappeared back down to the lab, no doubt to reconvene with Bruce. You left the both of them alone for the last couple weeks in December, deciding they were probably even more hectic than they had been when they’d started. That was the thing about Tony’s supposed downtime. He’d just throw himself into his work ten times harder once he was finished with it. And this was no exception. 

Still, on that Wednesday evening around eight PM when catering and staff had finished setting up in the Tower’s partying deck, you were entirely surprised to see… well… 

“These aren’t the decorations I ordered.” Not terrible, by any means. The table buntings had  been changed from silver and blue to silver and red- so had the banners. The charity donation stars (always needing a cause to throw a party, obviously) had been slightly changed from the last design you’d signed off on- again not terrible, but… 

The party hats, poppers, and glasses on top of the tables were all the designs you’d picked but just slightly different colored. Oh. And-

“Who ordered this?” Knowing you didn’t even have to ask, as you stared up at what could be approximated as an annoyingly large ice sculpture of Iron Man. 

Tony, already dressed in a very fetching navy suit, came to stand next to you, arms crossed. “Can’t say, but they clearly have impeccable taste.” 

“Where’s mine?” Half turning to huff at him. 

“I didn’t think you’d want one.” 

“So it was you.” A fond roll of your eyes, shake of your head. “I have to get changed. People should be coming soon. Can you manage the rest- since you already usurped the party planning?” 

“I think usurp is too strong a word. I… gently guided some of the finer details-” You silenced him, reaching up to take a light hold of his tie, dragging him down closer for a brief kiss. His defensive rambling ceased immediately, dulling to an appreciative hum. Once you let him go, he aimed a dazed grin your way. “Yes, honey- I’ll pour myself a drink and go do door duty.” 

“Thank you.” One more kiss just for good measure before letting him go and leaving to the penthouse. 

You didn’t spend too long primping and slipping into your dress. Leaving Tony alone with the gathers no doubt already arriving in droves was probably a terrible idea. And- being late to your own party was probably extremely gauche. You’d picked a matching dark blue colored cocktail dress for the evening, high-low hem with floral lace detailing on the front. Simple, easy- elegant, if you were allowed to compliment yourself. 

And, after one or two deep breaths to steel yourself for a long evening of droll conversation ahead, you stepped back into the elevator. Where, promptly, JARVIS alerted you as security footage showed on one of the panels- “Ma’am, there is someone in the labs with unauthorized access. He seems to be trying to subtly break in.” A short, bald man was hunched over at one of the labdoor keypads.

“Very cute. Did you drop him off there?” 

“I’m appalled you would think I’d do such a thing.” 

You tried to stow your smile. “No, you’re right. So how’d he get on that floor?” 

Prior footage came on the screen. “He broke one of the stairwell doors.” 

“Who is this guy?” 

“Darren Cross. Of Cross Technologies.” 

A heavy sigh escaped you. “Well. Let’s go say hello then.” This is not how you wanted to spend your night. This was surprising, what you knew of him, Darren was supposed to be a little more sophisticated than this. It would have made more sense to send a goon here than to do this himself… then again, everyone was supposedly distracted with the party… and he’d somehow gotten an invite… prime opportunity had knocked, and he’d answered. That definitely sounded more like him.

As the doors opened and you stepped out, you caught him trying to look through one of the glass doors. Since everyone was out for the evening, they were dark in their usual privacy mode. He’d been trying to guess at the keypad combination to the front door when you’d been watching him. 

Hearing you approach he looked up and you plastered your best fake smile over your lips. “Hello- excuse me-” 

“Ah- hi there. Fantastic timing. I seem to have gotten lost. Your elevators could use with a little bit of retooling. The map is very confusing.” He put his hands in his pockets and sauntered over. 

Holding yours together in front of you, you continued to ice him. “I don’t find them that confusing at all. This is one of the floors labeled labs. Not party deck. But maybe it is a little dark in there.” 

A sharp breath of amusement escaped him and he stuck his hand out. “Darren Cross. I’ve been trying to get a meeting with you for quite some time, you know.” 

“I know who you are.” Letting him know immediately his position on your list of importance. Terribly low. “Can I escort you back to the party? I’d hate for you to get lost again.” 

He held his hand out for a moment longer before taking the loss and shoving it back into his pocket. “Thanks. Sounds like a good idea.” You tilted sideways and allowed him to fall into step with you. Once back in the elevator you made a little bit of a show of selecting the button labeled party deck. 

JARVIS’ voice filled the elevator, “Going down, ma’am?” 

“Yes, please, JARVIS. Thank you.” Much sweeter as you spoke to him. The both of you letting Darren know you both knew there was no way he’d even attempted to use the elevator.

Darren shuffled in place, not nervously. More agitated than anything else. Probably because he’d been caught. “You know… Cross Technologies is a much different company than when Pym owned it. I’ve heard stories… about Pym and Stark not getting along but. Sins of the father- you know? I think we could have a lot to offer each other.” 

The elevator doors opened into the rumbling of a hundred voices meshing together and jaunty music ringing in the air. Taking the initiative, you stepped out first, and then directed a serious look up his way. “I’ll send you a bill for the door you broke. Once it’s paid, maybe I’ll consider taking a meeting. But don’t count on it. I’m a very busy woman.” Lifting your shoulders with a cutesy smile, “Enjoy the party.” Giving him a little wave before leaving to greet several other people standing nearby. 

Hot anger roiled off him. A twang of bitterness was not too far behind- as was a little lick of disgust. He didn’t like you. That worked well enough for you. But he was determined, it seemed, to stick it out here. If only to try and make you uncomfortable. Nothing made that clearer than when he went straight to the bar, ordered something, and took a seat. 

And then watched you. Trying to make you feel unwelcome at your own party- in your own home. Because you’d disrespected him. All quietly. All things you’d be unable to prove. He was just a man having a drink at a party he’d been invited to. 

A dangerous man, in fact. This Darren Cross. Behaving like this. You’d have to keep an eye on him. Which was probably exactly what he wanted, too. 

You made no show of noticing or caring about him, as you spoke to several people, all cheerfully so. Not bothered. Taking your time as you made your way around the perimeter of the party. Not running to him but… when you eventually did find your way to Tony you couldn’t help your small swell of relief. You could handle yourself, and Darren wasn’t even doing anything save being quietly menacing. 

But. Still… 

When Tony excused himself from the conversation he was having and curled an arm around your waist, you just felt safer. “I was going to make some snide comment about how much time you spent upstairs, but. Considering you look as gorgeous as you do, I think I can let it slide.” Laying it on a little thick. But you didn’t mind. Enjoying the sight of his perhaps overly handsome grin, mouthed around his whiskey glass as he raised it to finish it off. 

You eased a little closer into his side. “I actually had to stop at the labs.” 

Setting his glass down on a nearby table, he made a show of thinking. “Hmn. Well. Banner’s here so my guess is… dropping off the USB of updated protocols that you’re a week late on?” 

Playfully you gave him a little shove to his chest to let him know exactly what you thought of that. Not hard enough to get him to let you go, though. “Lost guest, actually.”

“That was my second guess.” His smile disappeared underneath a sour weight. “So. Who’s poking around?” 

“Darren Cross.” 

His brows knit, making quite a face. “Who invited him?” 

“I don’t know. I’ll have to ask Pepper about the guest list.” Reaching up, you smoothed your hand up over his heart. “I let him know he was in incredibly dangerous territory.” 

Thankfully, his smile reappeared, though it was soft. “Of course you did. So did he take the hint and bail?” 

“He’s sitting at the bar. Watching us, no doubt.” 

“Class act. In that case, how about a dance?” 

You melted just a little. “I thought you’d never ask.” A good way to show the man in question the two of you couldn’t have cared less about his presence. Too wrapped up in one another. 

At the last one of these holiday parties, you’d made fun of Steve for trying such a thing- it had been nearly a year since you’d seen him, now. He hadn’t contacted you at all. Nobody on the team, in fact. You were worried. And sad. So… in planning the party, how could you not, this time around, make sure there was an actual dance floor and good music to dance to? 

People stepped out of the way for you, as usual, and it was nice not to have a crush of bodies too close. It was easy to get lost with Tony this way. One of his hands in yours, his other on your hip. Your hand in his, the other laid on his chest. The music was a little too quick for a slow dance this time around, but he delighted you with a little raise of your hands to take you in a spin. And- yes- very quickly you forgot about the man sitting darkly at the bar. 

It would have been nice to forget about almost everything this way- and- just your luck- a slower song came on next. But just as Tony drew you in closer the entire party crashed to a halt- literally-

A clattering noise followed by skitters across the floor. 

The Iron Man on Ice had gone down. Knocked over by- 

“Steve!” A rush of excitement hit you all at once as you caught the sight of him standing there, looking mortified. Pulling Tony along, willingly he went too, as you made your way over to the table he’d entered by. And succinctly perhaps destroyed. 

In the crook of his arm he was carrying a gift-wrapped box, but he put his other hand behind his head. “Sorry about that. I wasn’t watching where I was going.” Guilt was consuming him so completely as he offered a weak smile to both you and Tony. 

Tony, hand free from yours, crossed his arms and gave a little bit of a shrug. “I’m sure you’ll find some way to make it up to me.” Grinning, just a little. 

You piped up, “An illustrious melting art show. Don’t worry about it.” 

Holding a finger up, Tony made sure to emphasize, “A four thousand dollar illustrious melting art show. That hadn’t completely melted yet. We still had about two thousand dollars’ worth of viewing pleasure.” 

Steve seemed stuck. “Really- I’m sorry- it was an accident.” 

Waving a hand at him, you stepped closer in to reach up and give him a nice squeezy hug. “He’s being dramatic, don’t mind him. It’s good to see you.” 

He acquiesced with half a hug back. “You, too. I didn’t mean to make as grand of an entrance. I promise.” 

“Nothing grander than smashing me to pieces.” Tony sighed, still playing it up. But even he couldn’t do it for much longer, offering his hand out. Once Steve grasped it firmly and they shook, “Good to have you back.” 

Steve nodded. “Yeah. Good to be back. Seems like good timing.” 

“Tell that to my poor face on the floor.” 

Shaking your head, smile extremely warm and fond. “Alright. Consider his chops fully busted.”

Tony pointed a finger Steve’s way. “You’re lucky she’s letting you get off easy. I could have gone on for another hour at least.” 

Steve finally found the courage to grin. “I believe it.” Lifting the box from his arm he held it out in both hands. “Here. I got this for you. While I was out.” 

“Oh- you didn’t have to do that.” The gift was poorly wrapped, probably not Steve’s forte. But it was definitely the thought that counted. As you took it, “Thank you, though- ...can I peek?” 

“It’s yours. Go ahead.” 

Tony huffed, crossing his arms. “May I remind you, I’m the one you’re supposed to be making this up to?” 

Leaning your hip out, you checked him. “Alright alright.” Using your nail to catch the paper around the lid, you then lifted it off, settling it underneath to cradle the box, and then reached in to unearth… 

Uh. Well. A much different piece of art, that was for sure. It seemed like a fanart statuette type thing. Iron Man on full display, lovely detailing for something not official. And atop one of his shoulders was what was probably meant to be you, his hands holding you steady. Except you weren’t wearing your own Iron Armor- though the Heart Reactor was pinned to your chest. Instead they had you in heels, legs a little too long, black pencil skirt, and a button up white blouse. 

And over your shoulder was a rocket launcher, aimed and ready to go as you stared through the scope with a devilish grin on your face. Yes, quite the team you and Tony. At least whoever made this seemed to think so. 

“This is- the weirdest thing I’ve ever seen and I love it. Where the hell did you get this?” 

Tony inched in to get a closer look. “We should make these. I want one on my desk. It’s fantastic.” 

Steve smiled. “I took a detour uh- in Moscow. Ended up in this flea market. ...Izmailovsky?” Butchering the name so hard you had no idea where he was talking about. Or maybe it was just a little hidden gem. Who could say? All you knew was that did not sound natural coming out of him- although it did sound like he’d been practicing it. “They had a table full of this stuff.” 

“Well you have to go back and get the rest,” Tony declared. “The creative vision is exactly what our merch department is lacking.” 

“Really, Steve, thank you.” Inching up to give him another half hug. It was a strange gift but a gift nonetheless. The fact that he’d seen it and thought of you and bought it… that really made the whole thing worth it. Other than it being amazing. Back firmly on the ground you cast a little bit of a shy look up his way. Nervous to ask… “Are you staying around?” 

He took a deep breath and then gave a small nod. “Yeah. I think so.” 

Giving him an apologetic look, already figuring you knew the answer, “Did you find what you were looking for?” 

His smile vanished completely then. “No. Everything’s cold. So… I figured it was time to come back for a bit.” Casting his glance around the party, you felt another deep rumble of guilt again, just as he resettled his sights on you and Tony. 

“We’re glad to have you back. Seriously, stop worrying about the ice on the floor. We’ll get someone to clean it up. Go have a drink, eat some food. Everyone missed you.” Giving him a little pat on the arm. 

His smile was once again weak. “Yeah. Sure- sorry again. And thanks.” Giving a halfhearted wave before taking off to Nat who was calling to him.

Tony waited all of thirty seconds before nudging your arm with his. “Seriously. Are you keeping that?” 

This drew some giggles from you as you held it up to him. “You really want it that bad?” 

“This is master craftsmanship. The holy grail of knock offs. No one’s ever gotten you so right.” 

“Tony-” 

“Seriously. Look at it. I’m just here to hold you up while you carry the big guns in style.” 

Planting it firmly into his upturned hands, you leaned up to press a kiss to the corner of his mouth, laughter still escaping quietly. “Fine. You can have it. But only if you get me a drink and we have another dance.” 

He grinned, tilting the other way to steal a kiss. Something you made a playfully shocked noise over. “Easiest deal I’ve ever made in my life.” His arm came around your waist. “Now- what do I have to do to get you to come upstairs with me?” 

At this you couldn’t help the shake of his head. Give an inch, he’d take a mile… “Spend at least another couple of hours at this party I spent time planning. And don’t misbehave.” 

“I wouldn’t dream of it.” 

“We’ll see.” Tipping your head back to beckon him down and in again, delighting in a quieter, gentler kiss. 

It was hard to remember the rest of the evening completely. Tony kept his word, for the most part. Sass couldn’t be counted as part of misbehaving, you supposed, and lucky him because as usual he was full of it. Still… when the time came, he remarked how incredibly easy it was to steal you away upstairs- and then, at your protesting, as the two of you stood on your private deck, your arms around his neck and his hands at your hips, “I’m not saying it’s a bad thing- in fact, I-” 

Losing his train of thought, murmur dying out as you kissed him senseless. 

Fireworks boomed overhead. The city below celebrated as the clock struck midnight. 

You wished him a happy new year about the same time your dress hit the floor. A festive thought he was only able to barely return just as you got him out of his suit jacket and tie. 

Happy new year, indeed. 

[agilneanrose]

“Time to step inside, my lady.”

“Olito.. I feel..” She turned her head to try and catch a glimpse of him from the corner of her eye and found nothing. He had left her. Her hands slid down the front of her dress and she moved forward.  What did she feel? Fear? Anger? Doom. The heavy weight of doom pressed down onto her chest and forced her breathing into short inhales. 

The entrance to the King’s courtroom possessed no doors but a dramatic archway of stone guarded by still creatures that appeared at first glance to be made of the same stone they stood guard of. Gray grotesque features twisted into frozen scowls with clawed hands clutching spears before them. She didn’t look at them long but she caught the movement of their bulbous heads out of the corners of her eyes as she hurried past. 

 The courtroom’s entire shape was oval with one end dedicated to the throne which sat upon a pale white dais.  Banners stretched from one side to the other and drew attention to the second floor which contained those not yet ranked important to the king.  The first floor was crowded with nobles and creations -  which was almost better than the sadistic private meetings she knew he held here.  

When she attempted to veer to the left and lose herself within the crowd that is when a cruel grip found her arm and she was brought back to the start of the long rug that ran from archway to throne.  Frozen, she stared at the throne and the monster that sat there long enough for all eyes to shift to her and the crowded room to silence. 

“Lady Rosemarri of House Sunshield. Handmaiden to our sweet and perfect Queen consort. You grace us with your presence this evening and your beloved and wise king wishes you to approach the throne.” A voice shouted from the second floor, urging her to move forward. So it was to be a show this evening, she suspected and straightened her back.  Rosemari’s chin hiked into the air at a haughty angle and she moved forward as gracefully as her bare feet would allow. 

[More after the cut]

The path to the throne was long and there were dozens of eyes upon her but she felt him as if he touched her. A malicious guard that followed along to make sure she didn’t flee. 

“I can walk myself to the throne, Bishop.”

“If you think I will not harm you because there are eyes on you, Lady. You forget where you are. Close your mouth and knee.” 

“Baffoon. Ladies do not kneel.” She did not hush herself but instead spoke clearly unashamed as she approached the throne, rolling her shoulder to dodge Bishop’s grip and at once sank into a low curtsy. 

“Is there trouble, Lady Rosemarri?” The consort spoke first, her soft voice would be easily missed had those within the courtroom not waited in silence, breath held for any inkling of drama or danger. 

Rosemarri’s gaze darted upwards, peering at the woman beneath her thick lashes. He had finished her and now she took her place beside her mad king. She lacked all color from eyes to hair and while it could have made her hideous, the addition of elven ears and features made her break taking. The dress she wore glittered beneath the torchlight, taking on the appearance of spider silk. “Queen Consort, there is not. I was simply aiding Bishop in understanding court behavior and what is expected. Perhaps classes for him might help him become less offensive.” 

The consort giggled, much to the delight of the ladies in waiting who sat near to her. All of the women covered with pastel veils to hide and shelter them from prying eyes. 

“Rise then and I am sure Bishop will consider your suggestion. Will you not, Bishop?” She continued, her white stare on Rosemarri’s crown as she spoke. 

“Yes, I will.” Bishop spoke from somewhere behind her. 

She rose to a stand and linked her fingers before her, her stare moving from the Queen to the King who was silent as he observed.  He had been working on himself, she noted, his stitches less dramatic and his body had filled out with sculpted muscles that were exposed by the open robes he wore. His face and that feral smile were hidden by his version of a crown, a golden mask that sheltered his entire head and crafted a smile onto his face.

“We have been working hard on our newest member..” He spoke, finally. “We are pleased to be out of our creation chamber and even more so pleased to present to you  -- all of you -- what could not have been possible had it not been for our Lady Rosemarri.” One dark hand swayed towards were she stood. “In her mind is wonderful and horrible things, but each of you that have been rescued from Duskwood have the same stories, the same horrors and the same heroes.  There was one that caught my eye and I could not think of anything else until I met him.” 

No….

There was movement from the stairs beside the throne and a lone figure stepped from the shadows. He wore a black robe that opened at this chest to expose milk white skin with sleek with muscles. A tapered form and narrow hips were hidden by dark pants but not before exposing the hints of definition at his navel. He moved past the King and Consort, slow steps bringing him towards the gawking woman. 

Her raven.. he had come for her. Her vision swam with tears - hope. Relief. This is how her nightmare would end, he would destroy all of them because  --  her talasite gaze locked on him and held, drinking him in. She knew everything about him, every scar and every piercing. She knew what his long dark hair felt like tangled and wet and her hands itched to hold him.  His eyes.. -- she froze-- his eyes …  her head cocked to the side as she studied the face of her husband and soul mate. He had come for her .. he had come for her… 

His eyes were black. His eyes were not black. His eyes were white ..  they were white. They softened when they set on her, they smiled at her even when he worried his lip ring. His eyes.. were black. 

“What does hope sound like..?” Bishop whispered, his lips close to her ear and she leaned backwards, away from the man that moved closer and towards the monster she knew was behind her. 

“Rosemarri.” The doppelganger spoke, his lips perking into a faint smile of amusement. His voice was not smooth or melodic but gravely and hinted at a cruelness that could not be hidden. “What a strange world we find ourselves in..” 

This was not her raven - he was not coming. This? It was the most foul of monsters that could have been constructed. What had he done?  There was a soft sound, a low whine that started somewhere in the back of her throat before her features crumpled. “What have you done..?” She gasped for breath, tears welling in that unblinking stare. Green battled black.

You DARE..” Someone roared. 

“….you know what he has done.”

“Does this not please you?” 

“Name him.” Her King commanded, his voice laden with excitement and laughter. “I command that you name him.” 

 With her escape blocked by Bishop’s large body she had no where to retreat when -he- leaned forward, his lips skimming over her tear stained cheek. “What a strange world we find ourselves in..” He repeated, his voice gravely and ancient. “.. a new beginning. A new challenge. Name me well for my name will be on their last breath. Do you remember what they would call me in Darkshire? What they would scream when I arrived simply for a visit? Do you remember?” His fingers gripped her chin and he turned her face towards him, making sure that she could see the face her heart knew and the mouth that would betray her over and over and over again.  “Say it.”

“Wrath.” She spit the word. “Hate. Betrayer!” She then fled, racing way from the throne room and the much amused collection of monsters.

“Let her go… we have a celebration to host. Come Wrath!”

[dragoninthecloud]

Birthday Party

Happy Birthday @bowser14456!!!!!

You said you like Marichat, right? This isn’t much, but I hope you like it!

Chat landed on the railing around the balcony carefully, stepping down to the flat roof with a muffled thump. He resettled the bag he carried on his hip as he walked to the open skylight, then crouched next to it and rapped on the glass with his knuckles.

“Marinette, are you there?”

He heard a light musical laugh from inside and started to grin, even before he heard her muffled yell to come in already. He sat on the edge and peered down, judging angles before grabbing the edge of the opening and swinging himself down, feet neatly avoiding her bedspread to land on the top of her stairs.

“So you said you wanted to see… me…”

He trailed off half way down the steps, eyes wide in shock as he took in the decorations set up around her bedroom.

There was a small table in the centre of the room covered in a brightly coloured dinosaur tablecloth. Two fold out chairs were next to it with cut outs of pirate ships and jolly rogers attached to the back rests. He could see paper plates and cups with pictures of circus tents and animals set up in front of the chairs. And there was a pile of unopened streamers on top of a large bakery box in the middle of the table, surrounded by smaller covered trays that smelled wonderful. He looked up from the table to question Marinette, only for his eyes to snag on the space behind her, where she’d hung a large hand decorated banner proclaiming “Bon Anniversaire!” in colourful felt letters, surrounded by black cat faces with green eyes and chubby ladybugs, from the edge of her bed platform.

“Marinette, what?” he started to ask, walking the rest of the way to the floor as his eyes danced over the set up then down to her, who was smiling shyly as she blushed and clutched at her arm.

“I know it’s a few days early, but I wanted to celebrate your birthday with you. Your hero birthday I mean. Stoneheart happened almost exactly a year ago, so you as Chat are now one year old, and so I thought this might be appropriate...” She let go of her arm to wave her hand back toward her wall, and he followed the gesture to see a picture of a donkey with its tail stuck between its eyes, along with several balloons and what looked like a very colourful and frilly llama.

He turned back to stare at her, mouth working without sound as he tried to process what she’d said.

“You, you’re throwing me a birthday party?” he finally whispered. “You’re, you’re throwing me a first birthday party with dinosaurs and pirates and circuses and, and…”

He dropped the bag he was holding as he took a giant step forward and wrapped Marinette up in his arms. She squeaked as he picked her up and spun her, laughing happily and pretending he didn’t feel the prickly feeling in the back of his eyes. He put her back down but kept his arms around her, holding up still as she staggered slightly, then moved his hands to her waist as he rested his forehead on hers.

“Thank you Marinette. I’ll admit I suspected something when My Lady told me to come here before she meets up with me later, but I never expected all of this. This is, this is more than I ever could have hoped for.”

Her hands worked their way up his front and found their way into his hair, scratching the base of his cat ears lightly as she smiled warmly at him, the slightest of blushes staining her nose and cheeks.

“Silly kitty. I’m almost scared to give you your presents if this was more than you’d hoped, I don’t want to break you.”

He felt his ears flick against her hands as he perked up, blinking at her in wonder.

“Presents? You got me presents?”

“Of course I did. What kind of birthday party would this be without presents?”

She let go of his ears and stepped back, grabbing his hand when he let go of her in turn and she lead him to one of the chairs. She pulled it out for him and waved at him to sit down, then moved the paper plate and cup out of his place setting before she walked to her desk and picked up two packages. A small jewellery box sized one wrapped in ladybug print paper, and a larger one needing both her hands wrapped in pink. She set them both on the table in front of him, then stepped back and started to play with her fingers.

“The big one’s from me, and the other is from Ladybug. She didn’t want to try and carry it over rooftops to see you later. But she has another present for you, that she’s still working on setting up. Oh, but maybe you don’t want to open them yet because you want to eat first! I’m sorry, here, let me put them back on the desk and we can-”

“No!” he yelped, flinging himself forward and laying across the top of them, his arms landing on top of the box and sending the streamers rolling off the edge and unravelling onto the floor. “Presents are good! I want to open them now!”

Marinette froze, hands hovering in the air between them, but then started to giggle. The giggles worked their way up to full on laughter, and she lifted her hands to her mouth to try and stifle the sound as he saw he eyes start to water, and Chat felt some of his panic start to ebb away at how happy and relaxed she sounded.

“Ok, ok that’s fine,” she finally calmed down enough to get out, wiping at her cheeks. “Go ahead and open them then.”

He stayed laying on them until she’d moved round the table, sitting at the other chair and resting her chin in her palms as she continued to chuckle. He slowly pulled back, shifting the gifts closer to the edge and playfully glaring at her, sparking an eye roll. He looked between the two, then carefully set the small box aside and started searching for the seam on the big one. It took a moment, Marinette’s wrapping was as professional as everything she did, but then he’d found it and slid a claw under the tape and peeled the paper back.

His mouth dropped open as he stared at the rectangular black cushion covered in embroidery. A loopy “Pawsitively Purrfect” in a shade of green that matched his eyes was surrounded by small and large paw prints in multiple softer shades of green. It was beautiful and amazing and heartfelt and handmade just for him and he sniffed as the prickle started up again.

A soft hiss across the table distracted him from the delicately stitched toe beans of one of the paws, and he glanced up to see Marinette carefully pouring something bubbly into one of the cups, her attention completely focused in an overly exaggerated way, and he snorted in amusement at her consideration for him. He twisted in the seat to carefully set the cushion behind him on the chaise, then moved Ladybug’s gift to the space in front of him.

Same style of wrapping, and he idly wondered for a moment if Marinette had wrapped it on Ladybug’s behalf as he flattened the paper against the table and flipped the lid of the small box open, but then his brain ground to a halt as he saw what lay inside.

A black leather bracelet, that looked almost exactly like his belt tail. With a small gold bell and a name tag hanging off the buckle fastening. Fingers shaking, he picked it up to see it better. On one side of the tag was a plain stamped “C.N.”, and the other was a tiny, delicately engraved ladybug.

He traced a claw across the picture in awe because this, this almost looked like a collar. And Ladybug had made a joke recently about him finding a forever home soon. Maybe, maybe she was saying that she would be…

A cup moved into his vision next to his hand and he startled, looking up to find Marinette watching him fondly, leaning her chin on her palm again as she drew her hand back.

“Do you like it?”

“I… I…” he tried, blinking his blurry eyes. “I love it. I love the cushion, I can see you put a lot of effort into it and it must have taken you forever and I-”

“Hush Chat, don’t worry about that part. You are more than worth it, and I’m just happy you like it.” She smiled at him, warm and soft and her eyes were filled with kindness and something he couldn’t quite name, but then they dropped to his new bracelet and her smile changed subtly, and he wasn’t sure he would have caught it if he hadn’t been watching her. But then she was shaking her head, and smiling mischievously, and placed her hands on either side of the large box in the middle of the table.

“So, are you ready for your cake now?”

He perked up, and opened his mouth to say yes, but yelped instead.

“No! We’re missing something!”

He ignored her spluttered questions as he got up from the table, carefully leaving his new collar-bracelet on top of his new cushion, before scooping up the bag he’s brought with him. He looked inside as he dug around, and smiled widely as he pulled two cocktail umbrellas, which he carefully opened and dropped one each in his and Marinette’s cups, to her scoffed amusement, then he dug in again to pull three party hats, decorated with his and Ladybug’s smiling faces.

Marinette groaned, but allowed him to sit the hat on top of her head, and then she watched him with an air of resignation as he perched the other on his. He set the third on the side of the table, and shrugged when he saw Marinette eye it.

“Just in case Mi’Lady makes it before it’s time for me to leave.”

“Ah, yes. She’s, she’s working herself up for a surprise for you. So she might be here before you leave or, or she might not.”

Chat shrugged, unbothered. His Lady cared enough about him to arrange for him to have time with Marinette, and arrange all of this with her, and to then leave a present here for him and make sure he knew to visit. Knowing she cared was enough for him for today, when he hadn’t expected anything at all.

“Ok,” he nodded, feeling the hat shift between his ears. “Now I’m ready for cake!”

[snowbellewells]

A Story Told at Last  {Part One}

(Here we are, much later than I had hoped, but hopefully still enjoyable!  Thanks so much to those of you who read, liked, reblogged, and sent encouragement on my prologue for this, my second CSSNS 19 fic.  This is the first full part, and I hope to bring you the second and final one before too much more time goes by.)

**Thank you again to @branlovestowrite for the totally beautiful story art. The banner for this just makes me so happy. I could not have wished for more!

**Thanks as well to @whimsicallyenchantedrose, my beta reader. I did not get all of this to her for beta-ing as I should have, but she greatly clarified and improved what I had for her to read over, and I very much appreciate it.

~Part One~

By the time Henry had returned to the Universitá di Bologna housing,where he and his team of advanced grad students were staying for the duration of their research trip in Italy, he was more than a bit anxious to reach his temporary quarters and go back through the copious research notes he had taken and goals he’d laid out in preparation before finally standing within the crumbling skeleton of his historical site - what remained of the once-stunning tower. Having now glimpsed it with his own eyes in the still shadows and dying light of evening, Henry was almost breathless with excitement and the desire to compare what he had seen with the numerous possible finds he had deemed likely. Already, he was itching to return at dawn’s first light with his team and equipment.

The heavy feeling in the air of another presence - of not being alone in the ruins, though his logical mind knew he must have been - had been easily shaken off once he returned to the city from the more remote location. The sound and bustle of the modern world - phones, cars, the press of crowds - melted away the icy shiver that had traced down his spine and put it well out of his thoughts. For several minutes now (nearer to three hours in point of fact, though his mind, caught up in more interesting details, had lost all track of time) he had been leafing through his reference manuals, maps and notes, packed and then unpacked again meticulously upon arrival, when a soft rapping on his door roused him from the fevered state he’d slipped into.

Shaking his head, and hazily pulling himself back into the present time and place, Henry drew a steadying breath, reminding himself that he was a skilled and credentialed professor of historical literature, not the teenage fanboy he’d once been and currently felt like again; he should show a bit more composure to whomever waited to speak with him in the hall. Opening the door, however, his eyes widened momentarily, in spite of his recent resolve, to find his brightest and most accomplished research assistant facing him.

Violet Clemens had actually graduated from the university’s history program two years before, but knowing the particular interest she would have in this research opportunity, Henry had contacted the museum he knew she now worked with when there had been spots left to fill in their group. Violet, with her pale, dewy complexion and ebony hair shining as it rested on her shoulders, not to mention her effortlessly elegant and tasteful way of dressing and carrying herself in a sea of her contemporaries wearing shirts cut so low and pants and skirts so tight that they left little to the imagination, had always stood out and seemed a bit of an old soul out of her time. Despite her keen intellect and quick wit, Henry had always been glad her degree focus leaned more toward historical art and architecture rather than his historical literature. While her complimentary knowledge would serve well in this venture to supplement his own, he had at the time feared becoming completely charmed by her if he’d had her in class on a regular basis.

Trying to shake all those thoughts from his frazzled and rather unfocused mind, Henry gave her a curious but friendly smile before speaking. “Miss Clemens, what can I do for you this evening?”

Violet flushed prettily, her cheeks pinking as her gaze fell to her toes for a moment before glancing back up to meet his. “I’m sorry, Professor Mills. I know it’s late. I was just wondering...I mean…” she finally blurted the rest out in a rush “...you went out to see it already, didn’t you? What was it like?”

Henry truly couldn’t hold back his wide grin at her question. Another person who held the same enthusiasm for the princess and the ruin of her family’s legacy, was not someone he came across often, and a part of him basked in having someone to share the thrill with - someone who just might understand. “You’re not a student anymore,” he offered with a self-deprecating chuckle. “You don’t have to call me Professor. But, to answer your question, yes I’ve been out there and it was incredible. Even with the light failing, it took my breath away.”

Violet merely nodded, taking his words in with an awed smile on her lips. “Oh, I can’t wait to see it for myself,” she murmured. Then a twinkle of mischief flitted into her eyes as she added, “but if you no longer want me to call you Professor, then you’d better just call me Violet.”

“Deal,” Henry affirmed, reaching out a hand which she took to shake on their agreement. The moment their hands were clasped together, a tremor of awareness caught him off guard, running up his arm with a heat and intensity that surprised him. Though he’d heard of such reactions to another many times in the books he’d read and stories he loved, he had never experienced anything so arresting in real life.

“Well, then, Henry,” Violet added, taking her hand back, though he didn’t think he was imagining the sudden breathiness of her voice and the way she shook her head as if to refocus, causing her dark waves of hair to shimmer. “I guess I should leave you in peace for now. We want to get an early start tomorrow after all.”

“That we do,” Henry agreed, seeing her to the door and hoping he wasn’t smiling wide enough to make him look giddy. Once she was gone, he leaned back against the solid oak, shaking his head in disbelief.  It would seem this adventure was going to bring about more than one incredible discovery.

~~~~~~~~~~~***~

The next morning dawned all too early for Henry’s taste; his alarm waking him from such a solid sleep that for a full minute he was too bleary to remember where he was at all. Between the jet lag and staying up another two hours pouring over notes and manuscripts to be certain he was prepared for their first day cataloguing finds onsite, he wasn’t sure he would even be able to pry his eyes open without coffee. It was almost funny to think back now on the days when he used to laugh at his mom and stepdad for their need to have a hot chocolate and black coffee respectively before they could face their days. He understood all too well as an adult.

Once he got himself moving, saw himself down to the continental breakfast provided on the first floor, and was waiting at the van to make sure all his assistants and fellow scholars were on time for the ride out, Henry did begin to feel more awake and alive. It wasn’t long before their small group had gathered, all had been accounted for, and they were loading onto the van. Rolling out of the city proper and into the Italian countryside, Henry began to lay out his game plan for the day, and the rest of his lethargy was swept back by excitement and purpose. 

When they reached the ruins, gathered the tools, instructions, and research which would guide them, they all stood a bit awed, gazing up at the remnants of the tower walls before them, quite possibly full of clues to be discovered. His travel mug providing a further jolt of caffeine as he took a last sip, he then stepped forward to begin directing the tasks to various assistants.  Those with him moved out with care through the ancient, crumbling bricks and mortar, leftovers from an exiled life, off in the directions he had indicated. Undeniably, her felt more than a bit of pride wash over him at the gravity and industry his little group displayed in tackling their assignments. The members of his team were clearly well-chosen.

He wasn’t, however, too selfless to have left one particular team member for last, to work with him one-on-one. Henry firmly fought down the urge to fidget with the hem of his shirt or stutter nervously as Violet edged closer to his side once they stood relatively alone. Her eyes were shining as they drank in the sight before her, more than a bit stunned and affected if her hushed voice was any way to judge. “It’s… splendid…” she nearly whispered, clearly struggling for the right words.

Henry nodded wordlessly, then turned to explain what he hoped to get her help with, just as Violet looked up to him and they bumped into each other awkwardly, both stumbling away a step and chuckling. His hand darted out to catch her elbow, not wanting to knock her to the ground, and Violet wavered closer at the touch unconsciously.

“Oh, Profess - Henry… I’m sorry! I didn’t mean to…”

He waved her off gently, “No apology needed. I bumped into you just as much… Vi...olet…” His tongue tangled on her given name as if he were still thirteen and worried about it squeaking. “I mean, there’s no harm done. As long as you’re alright?”

The young curator flushed prettily and nodded with her reassurance of “Absolutely, I’m fine. What did you intend for the two of us to work on?” She was clearly anxious to shed her embarrassment - and to explore this place they both had fallen in love with before even reaching, but for a moment Henry was stymied. He couldn’t speak or think, so struck was he by the intelligence and enthusiasm shining in her eyes and the classical beauty of her face. He wondered helplessly how visitors to her workplace could appreciate any of the art hanging on its walls with Violet standing before them.

Her light touch on his forearm finally brought him back to the moment as she asked again, “Henry? Was there someplace in particular you wanted to start?” Even as those curious words escaped her, Violet’s chocolate-y brown eyes widened noticeably, this time unmistakably also feeling the same jolt of electricity that ran along Henry’s skin where her fingers touched.

Valiantly seeking to ignore the attraction fighting for his attention, Henry redirected his focus to the curious detail he had noticed the evening before, leading his partner toward what still stood of the column that had once been part of the support to a vaulted ceiling. It seemed obvious to him, again if the details of the legend he had heard were true, that this tower had once been an incredibly lovely haven - even if to its inhabitant it had proved a gilded cage. Which was why an oddity in the surface had caught his attention upon first look. There appeared to be a spot where the join between the two sides of the arch didn’t match up - a strange and careless anomaly in a building that otherwise had the look of careful and exquisite design in the other parts that remained.

Pointing up to the spot he had seen, Henry directed Violet’s eyes to the same strange seam that he had noticed. Hearing Violet’s surprised little intake of breath and the way she immediately stepped forward, tracing careful fingers along the obvious malformation in curiosity, told Henry he had indeed been onto something. Soon Violet nodded to herself, drawing closer yet, both hands now up to help in her exploration, and seemingly forgetting Henry, the bustling site, and everyone else around in her rapt focus. 

“Often times,” she murmured lowly without looking away from the movement of her fingers on the old stone, now gingerly but determinedly probing and prying, “in buildings of this age - especially ones which would have belonged to families of importance - an inconsistency like this might often indicate…” she paused for a moment, wedging her finger into the impossibly small opening she had managed to pry, the very tip of her tongue peeking from between her lips in concentration adorably (to Henry’s mind at least).

“Ah ha!” she exclaimed in a breath of triumph, the arch giving enough for what appeared a hidden panel to fall open and a still dully glistening bronze object to fall into her open palms. “As I was saying,” she continued proudly, “might indicate a hidden compartment for items of value.”

Beaming with excitement, Violet held her prize up for Henry’s inspection. In her hands lay an ornate, yet solidly constructed compass on a chain. The piece appeared to have some definite age on it, and yet its quality and beauty still shone through. It looked like an instrument which would have been used for ship navigation on sea voyages prior to the advent of modern navigational systems, and Henry’s thoughts could not keep from flying to the princess’ lieutenant of the stories and tales. Might this artifact serve as his first major proof of the legend that had captured his imagination?

His gaze lifted from the compass to meet Violet’s expectant one, ready to speak his hopes. But, even as he did so, the sound (or so he could only imagine) of a sword at someone’s hip as they moved and the creak of leather arrested Henry’s ear. He turned, startled, at such an incongruous noise for a research site, only to find that no one stood anywhere near he and Violet, as if the sound had come from nowhere beyond his own imagination.

Uncertain eyes flew to his companion, who looked back at him in concern, but Henry forced himself to swallow the strange impression he’d had, sure he would sound crazy if he brought up what he’d heard. Instead, they wrapped and catalogued their find properly for transport back with them, talking about what it could mean… and to whom they both had to wonder if it might once have belonged.  Even in the elation of success and discovery, the feeling of lingering over his shoulder did not leave Henry easily, staying with him for the rest of the morning.

~~~~~~~~~~***~

That evening after dinner, once more in his quarters for the night, Henry’s thoughts were still on the compass as he plunged back into his accounts and stories, all the information on the Princess and her legend, and though he had mostly committed to memory all that was before him, he still pored over the details in hopes of a mention of the compass they had found in order to confirm his suspicions.

As the team leader, items discovered and picked for transport or further research had been logged and stored with him. And though Henry attempted to reason the need away, tried to convince himself that there were no details he had missed, nothing else to see, and that he needed to go to bed, to not spend another night with too little sleep, and instead be rested and well-prepared for the next day’s work, he was still impelled to stand and go over to take out the compass once more; the need would not be denied.

Once the instrument was cradled in his hands, the weight of it steadying to a surprising degree, Henry sunk down on the side of his bed, scrutinizing the relic with focused curiosity. What was he still missing?  Several deep breaths, a few pounding heartbeats, went by as he pondered the instinct guiding him.

Then, with a disconcerting effect that shook him and sent a tremor down his spine, the air around him seemed to waver, undulating dizzily and clouding the borrowed room before his very eyes. Drawing in a shuddering breath, Henry blinked, in hopes of clearing his sight, only to find his perception unchanged as they opened again. The lightheadedness forced Henry to lie back on his pillow, a rather clouded grey beginning to close in on his awareness, vision tunneling to his fingers still clutching the compass tightly - until it was all he could see.

His eyes closed, as surely as if he had been suddenly put to sleep, and then he felt as though he were floating, moving through space even as he knew he was lying still. And then, though he couldn’t fathom how, he stood in the tower of his dreams - whole and shining new as it had not been for some hundreds of years - unseen and right next to a stunning, golden-haired woman who could only be Princess Emmaline…

“Killian, go! You must be away from here before they come with my evening meal,” her voice is quick and urgent as she tries to push him toward the window of her cell, through which he had climbed not even an hour before. “If they catch you, you’ll be arrested. You’re wanted for piracy.”

The dark haired young man, lean and strong, despite appearing more long haired and less neat than he had as a royal navy lieutenant stands firm, well-muscled enough from days spent steering a ship through wind and rain and all other obstacles besides, impossible for her to move unless he allows it. He has waited too long to see her again, and he is not anxious to relinquish the sight of her beautiful face now that it has been restored to him.

“Easy, lass, easy,” he soothes, looking for all the world as if soldiers and guards, arrest and punishment, holds little concern for him.  In truth, he would face those and more as well for her sake, but he has also changed much in the months since his flight from royal service. He is a captain now, not the uncertain, eager-to-please junior officer he had been. Now he gives the orders, his crew (those loyal few who’d followed him into exile) follow his lead and go where he sees fit. “I’ve plenty of time yet… and...I wish to spend every second that I can with you.”

Only here, when addressing his true feelings for his princess, his first and only love, does he show a moment’s hesitance and a lingering sign of the shy young man he once was. Truthfully, he does not know whether or not there is a price on his head, or if he is being sought after diligently; Emmaline’s parents themselves did not agree with the steps taken to hide their daughter away. Whether they truly view him as a dangerous criminal to be apprehended, or more of a rebel with the freedom to act where they could not, Killian Jones is not sure. The King and Queen are constrained by duty to all of their people, where he is loyal first and foremost to his Princess above all others.

Unfortunately, their time is drawing to a close. He can hear the muffled tread of booted feet hurrying up the winding staircase, and knows that soon those who stand guard over Emmaline’s safety, but also make sure she remains in her prison, will reach her room. Much as he loathes leaving her behind again, he knows she is right. He dares not remain and have to fight people who are on the same side, compatriots in service of Misthavia, even if they interpret their orders much differently than he.

Turning to her once more, taking Emmaline’s hands in his, and gazing into her wide, green eyes and her tense face full of worry for him, Killian voices the question he has asked every time he steals back to her side in this long year past. “Come with me. You don’t have to stay locked away here. We could sail the world and be free.” It kills for her to be trapped and alone, paler with each visit he manages, dark purple bruises from sleepness beneath her eyes. Though he knows what her answer will be before he finishes speaking, Killian still has to ask.

His brave, bright angel shakes her head, yellow-gold hair flying around her like a halo, even as a slow tear makes its slow trek down her cheek. “You know I can’t, Killian. My place, my destiny, is here. Though my people fear me now, they need me… My parents need me… I can’t desert them.”

Much as he regrets it, Killian knows her honor will allow her no less. Sadly, he bows his head over their joined hands to kiss the back of hers, murmuring, “As you wish, my Love,” against her skin. Before he turns to climb into the window frame and grab the rope he had used to climb once more, he presss an object into her grasp - the compass he had received upon his naval promotion to lieutenant. “Hold onto this for me at least, aye?  As promise of my return.”

His Emmaline nods tearfully, letting him go and stepping back, but pressing the compass to her breast. “You always return, Killian,” she replies. “I know that.” 

His blue eyes brighten the smallest bit at her faith in him, allowing them both to hold onto hope. “And I always will,” he vows. Then he grasps the rope, swings from the window, and is gone.

Tagging: @cssns @kmomof4 @branlovestowrite @whimsicallyenchantedrose @searchingwardrobes @spartanguard @optomisticgirl  @tiganasummertree @resident-of-storybrooke @jennjenn615 @scientificapricot @therooksshiningknight @laschatzi @teamhook @revanmeetra87 @winterbaby89 @hollyethecurious @ilovemesomekillianjones @darkcolinodonorgasm