#which is like. seven years ago. i would have been thirteen. | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

imagines--galore · 6 months ago

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||The Thread of Fate|| Part Twenty-Four

Summary: Soulmate AU. They say the Thread of Fate connects you to your one true love. It may tangle. It may stretch. But it will never break. Wrapped around your little finger it tightens when it feels your soulmate is close and loosens when they are far. And becomes visible with the colors of your soulmate’s Nation when you finally fall in love with them.

Pairing: Zuko x OroraOC (ATLA)

Rating || Genres || Warnings: T+ Romance. Adventure.

Previous Chapters - Part One, Part Two, Part Three, Part Four, Part Five, Part Six, Part Seven, Part Eight, Part Nine, Part Ten, Part Eleven, Part Twelve, Part Thirteen, Part Fourteen, Part Fifteen, Part Sixteen, Part Seventeen, Part Eighteen, Part Nineteen, Part Twenty, Part Twenty-One, Part Twenty-Two, Twenty-Three

A/N: We are getting close to the Day of the Black Sun people! THIS IS NOT A DRILL!!!!! THINGS WILL START HAPPENING NOW SO HANG ON TO YOUR HATS! And I know Orora's part is all over the place but only because that's how she feels right now? I dunno? Hope you enjoy!

The wind blew softly through her hair as she sat with her arms resting atop the saddle, staring out towards the wide open sky and ocean that flew by beneath them. The sun had almost set, the last rays of sunshine peaking over the horizon, turning the sky a beautiful hue of orange, pink and purple. Behind her, she could hear her friends but she hadn't really felt like adding anything to the conversation, so instead she opted to admire the view.

And though it painted the perfect picture of serenity, her mind was anything but.

Orora was still a little disconcerted about the dream she had had a few nights ago. It seemed strange, that after so long she would dream about Zuko, one that did not involve a nightmare.

She'd stopped having nightmares weeks ago, and her mind had simply opted to not dream at all. Well, that wasn't really a conscious choice on her part, but it seemed her sub-consciousness was giving her a break by letting her sleep peacefully through the night.

Until a few nights ago that is.

When Zuko had appeared in her dreams.

Held her.

Kissed her forehead.

Touched her.

Comforted her.

And though it was a dream, it had all seemed so real.

Which was utterly ridiculous because how could she feel everything physically that had happened in her dream?

And yet Orora could actually recall the feeling of the wind in her hair, the smell of the sea, the sensation of the sandy beach under her bare feet. If she closed her eyes, she could hear his voice in her mind, promising her what she dared not repeat to herself lest a fickle thing known as hope grow in her heart and just set her up for future disappointment.

Not to mention that when she awoke, her string had been glowing red. And it had stayed that way for quite sometime even after she woke up.

Glancing at her string, which certainly wasn't glowing right then, she wandered if perhaps the closer they got to the Fire Nation capital, would Zuko be able to feel her near?

And that made her nervous.

Was what he said to her in her dream a figment of her imagination, or had it been real?

She wanted to ask someone else's opinion about everything so badly. Maybe Aang? He would know something about it. But she didn't want to worry him. With the Invasion coming up the poor kid already had so much on his mind.

Katara wasn't an option either. The poor girl was only just starting to recover from her ordeal with Hama. Orora felt a shiver run down her spine as she thought of that old crone. No, no point in making Katara worry over her when she had her own demons to fight.

Sokka would be a good choice, but his mind was preoccupied with the Invasion plans and going over each and very detail over and over again. He would be the last one to go to sleep sometimes, and the first to wake up, pouring over maps. Not Sokka then.

Toph? Maybe? The girl did give good advice for a thirteen year old. Not to mention, out of all four of them, Toph knew the most about her situation with Zuko and the conflicted feelings she still had for the Prince.

Talking to Toph sounded good then, she mused, chin resting atop her arms, her eyes closing as she slowly began to doze off.

That is, until she caught sight of something from the corner of her eyes just as she closed them.

Or rather someone.

Instantly, her blue eyes snapped open, head whipping to the side as she stared at the empty spot next to her.

She blinked. There was no one there.

But she could've sworn.....

"Ice Princess? You okay? Your heartbeat is going crazy?" Once more her head whipped around to look at her friends, who were all staring at her a little confused at her sudden reaction. Toph was staring at her, eyes narrowed, and for the first time she felt how fast her heart was beating.

Shaking her head, Orora smiled in a reassuring manner. "Nothing. I just nodded off and had that weird feeling like I was falling or something." Aang, who sat upfront nodded. "I get it! It's happened to me too! And its weird since I can't even use airbending to stop myself from falling in my dreams." He added with a laugh. Orora responded with a smile, thankful that she could always count on Aang to distract her with his cheerful disposition.

Though, as she moved to sit next to him to avoid Toph's observant unseeing gaze, the fact what she had seen remained at the back of her mind.

Not a what, rather a who.

A who with very distinct scar on his face, and amber eyes that had haunted her dreams a few days ago.

"You alright there Orora?" Aang spoke up from beside her. Pursing her lips, and deciding to be truthful, the girl gave a shrug. "Honestly? I don't know. The closer we get to the Fire Nation Capital the nervous I get." She revealed, despite having decided just a few moments ago that she wouldn't burden Aang with her thoughts.

Giving her a look of understanding and a sympathetic smile, Aang reached out to rest a reassuring hand on her forearm. "Is it because we're gonna be storming the Capital, or because you're nervous about seeing Zuko again?"

Orora chewed on her bottom lip as she averted her gaze to the calm ocean flying by beneath her. "Does it make me selfish if I say the latter?" She finally asked after a moment of silence, raising her gaze to look at Aang once again. The young airbender shook his head. "Not at all. But maybe you should ask yourself, are you feeling nervous because you're going to see him again? Or are you feeling nervous because you think you won't be able to face him if the situation calls for it?"

And that was what worried her.

Would her past feelings allow her to face him one on one? Whatever anger and anguish she had felt over his betrayal lay dormant within her. Maybe she should reawaken it be reliving the moment under Ba Sing Se again?

"There it is!" Sokka's voice suddenly cut through her thoughts as he stood pointing towards an island that grew larger in size as they approached. "Argh! Finally! I feel like we've been flying forever." Toph groaned, eager to feel the earth under her feet again. Pulling on the reins, Aang was able to guide Appa into a smooth landing just beyond a clump of bushes.

Everyone quickly dismounted, making their way through the bush. Orora smiled at the sight of the koala sheep that were sleeping peacefully in the clearing. The sun had set about half an hour ago, and though it was still early in the evening, she was tired. Rubbing her eyes, the girl stifled a yawn as Sokka walked around, looking at his map.

They all waited patiently, albeit sleepily, for him to give the all-clear.

"This is it!" He finally exclaimed, prompting Toph to jerk awake where she'd been dozing off on her feet. "The official rendezvous point for the invasion force." Well it was rather peaceful, Orora mused to herself, moving to help Katara and Aang get their bed rolls from atop Appa. "How did you pick this place?" Toph asked, turning to Sokka who grinned proudly.

"Before we split up, my dad and I found this island on the map." He explained. "It's uninhabited, and the harbors surrounded by the cliffs seemed like the perfect secluded place."

As she spread her bed roll on the floor, Orora hummed. "Thank Spirits no one lives here. We can really relax and sleep without having to stay on guard all the time." Picking up another bed roll, she frowned at it before throwing it in Sokka's direction.

The lump of clothing hit him in the face with a soft thump. He pushed it off, glaring at Orora but she was too busy undoing her hair to pay him any mind.

"Nice choice, Sokka." Katara praised her brother, as she too untied her hair. Having seen Orora's little prank and wanting to avoid a scuffle between them both she continued. "And we're here four days ahead of schedule."

Apparently that was the wrong thing to say.

Aang who had only just laid down, suddenly scrambled to his feet. "Wait! Four days?" He cried out, his voice anxious, his face panicked. "The invasion's in four days?" Orora glanced at him, before she yawned hugely once more, her eyes tearing up as she did. Sokka, having unrolled the bed roll Orora had thrown at him, yawned.

"Whatever. That's like four days from now. Let's just calm down and-" He didn't even finish his sentence before he was snoring away. A little ways away Toph was beginning to snooze as well, her feet elevated so she wouldn't have to see during the night.

"For once I agree with Sokka." Orora muttered sleepily, her mind exhausted from over thinking throughout the day. She hoped tonight would be one of those nights where she didn't dream.

Katara nodded. "Sokka's got the right idea, Aang. We're here. We're ready." Orora barely heard the rest of Katara's sentence as she began to drift off, her eyes closing. "The best thing we can do now is get plenty of rest." So saying the waterbender laid down, falling asleep almost instantly. Aang looked around at his now sleeping companions.

"I guess."

Silence settled over the small clearing, broken every now and then when one of the sleeping children would turn over in their sleep, or in Sokka's case, would let out an occasional snore.

And though in the beginning she slept soundly, as the night crept on, a frown creased Orora's forehead and she tossed and turned, as she began to dream.

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She was being led through and open space. Her wrists and ankles were bound, her clothes were in tatters. The sky above her glowed an ominous red. Her gaze flitted around, trying to find any means of escape, yet nothing rose to mind. There were Fire Nation soldiers all around and not a single familiar face in sight. A hand at her back pushed her forward, prompting her to stumble and fall to her knees.

Somehow she caught herself before her face hit the dirt. Shrugging off the hands that gripped her arms, Orora rose to her knees, her gaze tilting up to the sight before her.

There was Ozai, standing over her with a look of contempt on his face. He cut an extremely imposing figure dressed in his royal robes, and his face was just as cruel as she had seen in the village statue of him. Azula stood next to her father, her features settled into a look of utter glee as she regarded the waterbender. Somehow they both appeared even more fierce and powerful looking then they probably were in real life.

"So, you are the one." Ozai spoke, and though he didn't give any further information, she knew what he was talking about. Orora didn't speak though, she continued to look back at them both. Her face was devoid of emotion and that seemed to annoy Azula.

"May I get rid of her father?" The younger girl all but cooed gleefully, as if she would delight in ending the other girl's life.

And she probably would.

Orora watched as Ozai opened his mouth, to agree with his daughter, to.........what? End her? Torture her? Make her bleed?

Whatever it would be, Orora closed her eyes as she sighed, she could not fight the inevitable. Funnily enough, she wasn't scared.

A shadow fell over her. Probably Azula coming to play with her. To have her fun.

"You'll have to go through me."

Her eyes shot open as her entire body went rigid with utter shock.

No!

It couldn't be!

Despite her disbelief, she managed to tilt her head back and look up to the person standing over her.

His back was to her, but there was no denying that all too familiar head of hair, the stance not to mention the swords he gripped in his hands.

Zuko.

It was Zuko.

Zuko was standing over her.

He was protecting her from his family.

Saving her.

Her heart thumped wildly in her chest. Her gaze flitted from his back, to his shoulders, to his hands, to his finger.

The finger that held his string.

That glowed a bright blue.

Perhaps she whispered his name? Or maybe she called out to him out loud?

Whatever it was, it compelled him to shift his head slightly so he could look over his shoulder at her.

Orora barely managed to catch a glimpse of his scar, barely saw his lips as he called back to her.

Before her eyes snapped open and she sat up fully awake.

————————–

His life was beginning to get rather tedious. Sure he had enjoyed all the luxuries he had been denied during his banishment and then his subsequent life as a refugee, but since his arrival at the Capital he had slowly begun to realize that he kind of missed that life.

Over the three years he had spent searching for Aang, Zuko had seen the entire world and it had amazed him just how powerful and yet beautiful nature could be.

Rather like his soulmate, he figured.

It wasn't until he began to interact with the people who lived in the world, did he realize that they contributed to the beauty of the world.

Unlike the Fire Nation.

He frowned as he looked at the hot towel that had been offered to him, before he closed his eyes in resignation and dabbed his face with it. Orora would hate all the fuss, he realized. She had told him that one of the other reasons for her leaving the North Pole, other then her family, had been because she wanted freedom to do whatever she wanted. Sure that meant giving up some things she liked, but in the long run, it had all been worth it.

Maybe the luxuries were unexciting because there was no one else to share them with.

As he walked out of the Palace, his gaze flitted from one side to the next, as if he were waiting for someone to suddenly appear.

But no one did.

And he frowned.

It had been several days since he had last seen Orora, in his dreams or otherwise. And while he did think of her everyday, it was nothing compared to the comfort her presence had had.

Though the constant glow of his string did serve to remind him just how deep his affections for her ran, despite her not being there with him.

He needed to speak with someone, he mused to himself as he reached the gates of the Palace and looked to the mansion just across the street.

Thank the Spirits he had someone he could trust and who trusted him.

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Pulling out the fabric she had bought so long ago, Orora smiled at the color.

"Hey! When do you get that?" Katara asked, reaching out to feel the texture of the fabric. Her smile turning sheepish, Orora gave a nervous laugh. "I got it from the hustle money." She admitted, to which Katara gave a disapproving glare, but shook her head. "Well, what're you gonna do with it?" She asked, as Orora moved to get the small sewing kit she had also bought.

"Well I don't want to face the Fire Nation is their colors." She gestured to the clothes she had on. "I want to fight them wearing the colors of my tribe." The other girl nodded in understanding. "But isn't it a little darker then what you would usually wear?"

Orora nodded as she looked over all the rough sketching she had done over the past few weeks. "Well I figured warriors wear dark blue when they go into battle." She admitted, to which Katara gave a small laugh. "Trust you to go against tradition." She said, playfully nudging Orora to which the older girl grinned at her. "Oh? And which one of us beat up Pakku so he would teach her how to fight?"

Giggling Katara peered at the sketches Orora had done, smiling as she picked up one. "Maybe you should do this one?" She suggested, holding it out for the older girl. Orora nodded. "I needed a second opinion. Thanks Katara!" So saying the girl moved to pick up a pair of scissors.

Grabbing the corner of the fabric, she lifted it in the air to shake it out.

But then her gaze caught sight of someone standing just at the other end of the cloth. Her mouth fell open in a sudden gasp, and the corners slipped from her fingers as the fabric dropped. Behind her Katara continued to go through the sketches, leaving Orora to stare in disbelief at Zuko.

Their eyes met, ice blue on warm amber. He looked just as she had seen him on that final day in Ba Sing Se, only before what had happened in the catacombs. He smiled at her, that soft happy smile that only she managed to get out of him, and her heart physically ached at the sight.

The dream she had had last night suddenly came back to her. And how, despite the obvious danger of her dream she had not been afraid.

Almost as if she had known.

Known that he would come and save her.

Her string glowed a bright red, prompting her to raise her hand and inspect it briefly. Zuko mirrored her action, so that she could see the blue of his string.

"-ra? Orora?"

The young waterbender was jilted out of her entrancement when Katara's hand landed on her shoulder. She let out a startled cry, tensing up and dropping the scissors she had been holding as she pivoted on her feet.

Her heart beat fast in her chest, and she panted, prompting Katara to frown at her in worry. "You alright? I've been calling your name for awhile now?" She asked, as the older girl turned to look over her shoulder where Zuko had been standing a few moments ago.

The space was empty.

"S-sorry, I was.....lost in thought." The girl finally admitted, reaching up to brush her hand back from her face where it hung around her shoulders in soft waves. Katara's worry did not dissipate as she continued to frown. "How about I help you with cutting the fabric?" She offered, picking up the scissors as she did.

Giving a small nod, Orora turned her attention back to her little project, hoping to push away the sight of her soulmate standing just across from her from her mind.

It helped.

But only a little since her string glowed red throughout the day, serving as a constant reminder of the depth of her feelings for Zuko.

————————–

"So have you given any thought to what I said?" Mai asked as she set down the teapot and held out the cup of tea she had just poured. Accepting the cup, he took a small sip from it, his eyes darting to the open doorway. Mai seemed to catch his silent question and quickly reassured him with a nod.

No one was out there to eavesdrop on their conversation.

"I have." He finally revealed. "But I'm still working on all of it, it'll take me some time to go over everything. Make sure I'm ready." He revealed, keeping his response as vague as he could. Mai nodded.

"I get it, though I figured you would want to prepare after the all-day war meeting coming up?" She revealed, taking a sip from her own cup as she did. Zuko frowned.

"War meeting? What are you talking about?" He asked, his voice sharp. Mai looked surprised before continuing. "Azula mentioned something. I-I assumed you were going, too." She said, as she too frowned at his confusion. He was the Prince wasn't he? Shouldn't he be aware of the meeting like Azula had been?

Zuko tried not to let that disappointed feeling settle in his heart. He had thought that perhaps his father would actually treat him like a son, but that hope had sailed out the window. But not even treating him as Prince of the Fire Nation?

That truly gutted him. "I guess I wasn't invited." He finally said, ending the conversation with a sip from his teacup. The both of them sat in silence for the rest of his stay. A simple goodbye was all they offered one another as he departed, leaving him with his thoughts as he rode the palanquin back across the road.

Why did he keep setting himself up for disappointment one moment after the other?

It was actually starting to get pathetic, even in his eyes. Orora would surely have his head for allowing himself such false hope. Honestly, he liked to think he had more chance of Orora actually forgiving him then his father treating him as his own son.

Though he doubted it would be easy.

As he walked back to his room, his string glowing an ever constant blue. Once ready for bed, he dropped onto the soft mattress, reaching under his pillow to retrieve the blue dragon comb. He set it at his side, where he could see it and just relive the memories of the owner.

————————–

Her fingers were beginning to cramp by the time she was done cutting the desired shapes and outlines. There was no point in actually starting her sewing till the next day since the sun had set awhile ago.

She hadn't spent the entire day cutting. Somewhere inbetween she had taken a lunch break as well as a bending break with Katara. The Master waterbender had taught her some new moves that would help her in the upcoming battle. In turn, Orora had gone through some basic leg movements to teach Katara how to waterbend with her feet and legs.

All in all, it had been a productive day.

Aside from the fact that she kept seeing Zuko here and there throughout the day at the most random of moments.

Now that everyone was finally asleep, including Aang, who had come rather late to where they were all sleeping, Orora sneaked away to the small river outlet she and Katara had been practicing in the entire day.

Looking around, she removed her shoes, before stepping into the water. Inhaling deeply she closed her eyes, concentrating with all that she had.

And when she finally opened her eyes, he was standing right in front of her, just a few feet away.

"What're you doing here?" She demanded, ignoring the way her heart leapt at the sight of him. He shrugged in response, crossing his arms over his chest. "You called me just now, didn't you?"

The sound of his voice had every single memory of him rising to the front of her mind. Slightly overwhelmed by the emotions, Orora did her best to not let them overtake her completely.

"You alright?" He asked, obvious concern lacing his tone as he peered at her from under the fringe of his black hair that covered his forehead.

"Why should you care?" She spat out, allowing her anger to rule her tongue for once as she glared at him. The water responded to her shift in emotions, rising in a small wave around her. He didn't seem at all perturbed by her sudden outburst. Instead he sighed, suddenly looking really really sad.

"You know why." He finally responded as he raised his finger, the string glowing blue. She exhaled angrily. "That is not a reason. It shouldn't be. Not after what you did."

It was stupid. She was talking to someone who wasn't even there.

And yet.......she couldn't help it. Couldn't help show the hurt and anger that had laid dormant for so many weeks. Though this was only a small trickle of it. Most of what she felt was still behind a wall she had built within herself.

Doing her best to calm herself, she turned her head so she wouldn't have to look at him. "Please, just go away."

She didn't have to look up to know he was gone. Though she did in the end.

Just so she wouldn't have to see her string flicker with color.

————————–

"Sokka, get up! I needa know what day it is!"

The startled, panicked cry of Aang was what had her sitting up even before she had opened her eyes. The night had been restless for her, and she'd only managed to catch a few hours of sleep.

And now there was Aang screaming at the top of his lungs, first thing in the morning. She forced her eyes open, only to be greeted with the sight of Sokka jumping up and hitting his head on a nearby rock. Despite the fright she had gotten, Orora couldn't help but snigger at the boy's expense. Beside her Katara and Toph sat up as well.

"Relax! It's still two days before the invasion!" Toph reminded, as Aang began to pull on Sokka's limbs to try and get him to stand up. Now that the sleep was out of her eyes, Orora was finally able to see the state Aang was in.

His hair was in disarray, there were bags under his eyes, and he looked frantic and panicked as he insisted that Sokka perfect his rock climbing skills, because of a dream he had.

"But that was just a dream." Sokka reminded before insisting. "I'm a great climber!"

The young Avatar was having none of it as he pointed towards a nearby cliff. "Then climb that cliff! Climb it fast!" They all turned to the take in the sheer size of the cliff. Sokka returned his gaze back to Aang who simply pointed even more adamantly, if that were possible. Sighing the Water Tribe boy reluctantly began to climb the cliff, grumbling under his breath as he did.

Shaking her head, Orora moved to put on her shoes.

"Don't drink that!" Aang suddenly shouted, pointing at Toph who had just taken a gulp from a water skin. She spat the water out, straight onto Katara who grimaced in disgust. Orora muffled her sudden giggle as Katara glared at her in annoyance.

"Why? Is it poisoned?" Toph exclaimed, as Katara waterbended the water off her.

"In my dream, we were right in the middle of the invasion, and you had to stop to use the bathroom!" Though she was listening to what Aang said, Orora stood to start preparing breakfast. "We died because of your tiny bladder." Seeing movement out of the corner of his eyes, Aang's gaze suddenly shifted to Orora where she was fathering ingredients for breakfast. "And you!" He shouted, pointing towards the older girl, startling her into dropping her ingredients. "In one of my dreams you made something to eat and we all got sick and none of us could fight in the invasion."

Orora blinked at him. Alright, now she was starting to get a little worried about his state of mind. But Aang didn't stop there, he pivoted on his feet, turning to Katara and pointing at her. "And you need to start wearing your hair up. In my dream, your hair got caught in a train, and-"

But he didn't complete his dream. Katara's hand on the side of his face had him pausing. "Aang!" She spoke loudly and firmly over his panicked gushing. "I know you're just trying to help, but you really need to get a grip." She tried to reassure him. "You're unraveling."

Aang blinked, taking a deep breath as he shook his head. "You're right. I'm losing my mind." He groaned softly. Reaching out Orora patted his head gently. "How about we all have some nice breakfast. Maybe that will calm you down?" She offered, smiling kindly at the younger boy. "I promise I'll be careful with my cooking." She joked, winking at him playfully. Somehow he managed to smile back at her.

However, an hour later, Orora realized that there was no helping Aang. He was still pacing around, his eye twitching, his fingers rotating and fumbling as he fretted over what was to come on the day of invasion.

"It's like every time I think about how stressed I am, I just end up more stressed. I'm like a big growing snowball of nerves." As he paced some more, she found her eyes flitting to Katara who looked back at her. They both exchanged a look of concern.

Sokka who had been hammering away at a piece of armor for Appa turned to look at Aang. "Of course you are. That's 'cause you gotta fight the Fire Lord, the baddest man on the planet. And you better win or we're all done for."

Orora slapped her forehead while Toph sighed at Sokka's lack of attempt to calm Aang down. Katara stood up and approached her brother.

"Sokka! You're not helping!" She stated in an annoyed tone, to which Sokka stood up and shrugged. "What? It's true. That's the deal. He knows it." Before Katara could respond to her brother's lack of tact, a flash of blue flew through the air, catching Sokka around the mouth and freezing there in place, effectively shutting him up. As Sokka began to struggle with the ice mask, courtesy of an annoyed waterbender from the North Pole, Katara walked towards an even more nervous looking Aang and touched his shoulders.

"You know what, I've got just the thing! Get ready to be de-stressified!" She said, smiling and leading Aang away. "If your trick doesn't work, I'm next!" Orora called out to their retreating backs as a shadow loomed over her. She raised an eyebrow at the sight of Sokka who made several muffled angry sounds before pointing to his mouth.

She rolled her eyes. "Next time, be more tactful." She warned, waving her hand and allowing the ice to melt away from his mouth. In response, the boy stomped back to his personal project, grumbling under his breath.

Orora turned her attention to the half sewn shirt she had dropped in her lap, picking it up and resuming her task. She was so engrossed in what she was doing, that she barely noticed when Toph and Sokka walked away with Appa, to mold the shape of the armor that would be using metal to his size.

"What're you making?"

Her hands stilled, but she didn't look up.

"I am making a new outfit to wear for when we defeat the Fire Nation." She heard herself say. Why she spoke to him though was beyond her. She should just ignore him and he would disappear.

And yet, some small part of her, the one that still held that soft spot for him, that missed him, wanted to speak to him, to hear his opinion.

Even if, in a way, she would be speaking to herself.

"So, not a new outfit because you're meeting me then?" His voice was teasing. She still didn't look up.

"Don't flatter yourself. I'll be busy fighting to take down your nation to even think about you." Lies, her inner voice told her, but she ignored it.

He was silent for a few moments. "You know, I always wandered how you would look in blue. I mean I did see you at the North Pole, but you were kind of covered in blood then." She could feel the smile in his voice as he continued. "I bet you'll look beautiful."

His compliment, threw her off guard.

Her eyes widened, and despite her initial promise to ignore him and just focus on her fingers as the needle and thread flew through the fabric, she looked up.

Only to see that he was gone.

Leaving her with a hollow feeling in her chest, and a flickering string.

Luckily distraction came in the form of a disgruntled looking Avatar. "Well Katara's sauna method didn't work." He grumbled turning his heavy lidded gaze towards Orora who set her sewing aside. "In that case, lets see if I can help you relax."

So saying, the girl led him away to a location that was partially covered by a big outcropping of a cliff side. It provided enough shade that their ice sculptures wouldn't melt.

"Making sculptures always helped me." Orora explained, as she led Aang to stand in front of his block of ice. "It helps keep my mind focused on one task and helps me relax." She explained further, gesturing for him to start whenever he was ready.

"What should I make though?" He asked, looking back at her curiously to which she shrugged. "Whatever comes to mind."

Aang stood still for a few moments, probably contemplating on who or what to mold from the ice. Finally his arms and hands began to move and Orora watched, in growing horror at what he created.

It was an ice sculpture in the likeness of Ozai. However, he appeared more like a demon spirit then his real self. Aang had even given him horns, a forked tongue and about six eyes. She winced as Aang stepped back, clear fear and shock written across his features as he took in what he had created.

"Erm....maybe, you shouldn't have let your nightmares guide you so much?" Orora suggested, to which Aang let out a groan of frustration. "What am I going to do?" He lamented, as Orora waved a hand and his sculpture melted away. "You're had nightmares before Orora." He suddenly recalled, turning to her, his face desperate.

"How did you get rid of them?" Orora blinked, frowning slightly in thought. "I don't know if my nightmares were at the same intensity as yours Aang. I mean the emotions behind them were very different. I just had to let out all that I was feeling for the nightmares to stop."

She looked at him, reaching out to place a comforting hand on his shoulder. "I should think for your nightmares to stop, you just need to face your fear." Her suggestion had Aang's eyes widening in panic once more and his entire body to tremble. "But that doesn't mean you have to do it alone." She reassured him quickly. He was so much shorter then her, and it only made her feel all the more protective over him.

"I promise, when you face the Fire Lord on the day of the invasion, I'll be there with you." She promised. So saying, she wrapped her arms around his slight frame, enveloping him in what could only be described a soothing embrace. It took him a few seconds before he returned the gesture, and for a few moments, Aang was able to feel safe and secure rather then the crippling fear ad anxiety that had hounded him for the past two days.

Once he had pulled back from the embrace, she smiled at him. "Maybe you should talk to someone about what you're feeling? Talking always helps, maybe Sokka can be the perfect candidate for that?" She added to which Aang nodded.

"You're right! I'm gonna go find him! Thanks Orora!" So saying, the young Avatar raced away on an air scooter. Once the air had settled, Orora turned her gaze towards the ice sculpture that she had created for her own purpose.

And that purpose was quickly realized fifteen minutes later when she stood in front of an ice sculpture of her soulmate.

"Why do you have to be on my mind so often?" She whispered as she put the final touches to the sculpture before stepping away. "You should mean nothing to me after what you did, and yet I still find myself thinking about you. And it feels like I'm betraying our cause when I do."

Silence.

Her only companion was the glow of her string and an ice sculpture that melted away with a wave of her hand.

————————–

The meeting had just adjourned.

And he had been invited to it. his father hadn't wanted to start the meeting until he arrived. He had sat beside his father, in the seat of honor, had been the perfect son, the ideal prince.

But then, as he walked down the corridor towards his room, why did he feel so alone?

For so long he had wanted nothing more then love and acknowledgment from his father, from the man who should be there to guide him and help him should he stumble.

But that meeting, what his father had decided, helped get rid of that notion once and for all.

He was never going to change, Zuko realized. That man was going to remain hard-hearted and unforgiving. He would destroy the entire world for his gain. For glory.

During the entire duration of the plan his father had told so gleefully, all Zuko could think of was all the lives that would be lost because of that plan.

All the plan who would loose their homes, their loves ones.

Everything.

Zuko had lived among those people. They had shown him kindness when no one else could ever have. They had helped him, his Uncle and Orora as well.

How could his father be so cruel and unfeeling?

Orora had been right.

Try as he might, he would never gain his father's approval the way Azula had.

And his Uncle had been right too.

He had to forge his own path, his own destiny.

While his initial drive had been to find Orora and maybe stop the Fire Nation from damaging the world too much. Now? It was completely different.

Now his destiny included helping the Avatar end the war and defeat the Fire Nation.

Once and for all.

————————–

The whole day she had worked on her outfit. It was almost finished and just needed a few embellishments. Orora hoped she had gotten the proportions right.

"Its turning out great."

If only the mirage of her soulmate would leave her alone.

She looked up from her task, glaring at Zuko as he sat opposite her. He met her gaze with a small hesitant smile. "You know, if you want to say something to me, about what I did, you can." He suggested after a brief moment of tense silence. Orora shook her head, returning her attention to her clothing, her needle flying.

"What would be the use?! You're not here so I would be yelling at nothing and my friends already have Aang's spiral to deal with. I have no desire to burden them with my troubles." She responded, wincing as she accidentally pierced her thumb with the tip of the needle. Wiping away the drop of blood, she continued.

"No, I am going to yell at you when you're actually here in front of me. Because that is what you deserve for what you did to me. To your Uncle." Her hands trembled as that anger that had festered within her for so long in the darkness began to reach a boiling point.

"And I look forward to it." She blinked, her gaze once more finding his. Her brow creased in a confused frown. "To my yelling at you?" She asked, thinking that maybe her mind was really spiraling like Aang's.

Zuko shook his head. "No. To see you."

Her eyes widened at the absolute honesty on his face as well as the smile of utter happiness that played about his lips.

She shook her head, closing her eyes. "This is all in your head." She whispered. "This is all in your head."

Orora couldn't afford to get her hopes up. But it seemed fate was just setting her up to be disappointed all over again. Starting from the dream where he had promised he would come back to her, and now, his mirage appearing to her and saying things like that.

Tears of frustration pricked her eyes as she finally opened them and saw that he was gone. Trying not to let that sinking feeling in her chest make her feel anymore hollow then she already was, she returned to the final stitches of her pants.

Only to glance up when a gust of wind blew by her. Or rather an airbender with his arms in the air and a cry of complete panic echoing as he went by. Orora blinked at his retreated back, wandering what had scared him like that.

A moment later Toph followed his path and she had her explanation.

"What did you do?" She asked, prompting the blind girl to scowl at her. "How'd you know I did something?" Se asked sounding a little offended to which Orora rolled her eyes. "You're always doing something sinister or planning it Toph."

A beat of silence before Toph grinned and nodded. "That's true." Kicking up dirt she walked to sit beside Orora, using her knitting basket as a footstool to keep her feet elevated.

"So, mind telling me why your heart is racing like you just ran as fast as Twinkletoes?"

Blue eyes blinked at Toph for a few brief moments before the older girl sighed, her shoulders drooping. "I'm just thinking about tomorrow and how I might.....run into Zuko." She finally revealed to the younger girl.

Toph hummed. "You know I've been wandering the same thing. I mean we're gonna be taking down the Fire Nation and he is the Prince of the Fire Nation. How're you gonna handle it?" Setting aside her sewing in favor of pulling her legs to her chest, Orora sighed. "I honestly have no idea." She admitted, allowing her fear and uncertainty of the situation to leak into her tone.

Toph was silent next to her for a few moments. "Well, whatever happens, and no matter what the outcome, we'll all face it together." The waterbender glanced at the earthbender from the corner of her eyes. Slowly a small smile pulled at her lips as she nodded. "Yeah, I suppose we will."

Grinning Toph pulled her hand back and punched Orora in the shoulder, prompting the girl to let out a grunt of pain. "I see your method of showing affection has not changed." The girl said, rubbing the sore spot as Toph grinned. "Nope, and it ain't happening either Ice Princess. So get over it!"

"Hey guys!" Katara's voice cut through their moment of silence, prompting them both to look towards the source as she raced towards them. "What you want Sugar Queen?" Toph asked. Ignoring the nickname, she simply grinned. "I think I found a way for Aang to sleep." Behind her, her brother was racing to catch a koala sheep, prompting Orora to raise an eyebrow at his antics.

"Has Sokka started to loose it too?" She asked, to which Toph added. "More so then he already had." The both of them laughed at their own jokes, prompting Katara to huff and grab their wrists, pulling them up.

"Come on! This is brilliant."

She spent the rest of the day catching koala sheeps and creating the world's softest bed for Aang. And not for the first time, Orora was grateful for the friends she had accepted as her surrogate family.

Because honestly?

They were all worth the pain and sacrifice.

————————–

And as Orora laid down to sleep that night, her string colorless, she knew what tomorrow would bring.

————————–

And as Zuko laid down to sleep that night, his string a bright glowing blue, he knew what tomorrow would bring.

————————–

Tomorrow would be the day she would face the Fire Nation. And with her family, friends and allies at her side, there was no way they would loose.

————————–

Tomorrow would be the day he would finally leave the Fire Nation for good, free his Uncle and join Aang on his journey to restore balance to the world.

And beg Orora to forgive him for what he had done.

He had a long journey ahead of him, but for once, Zuko wasn't scared.

He was at peace with what fate had decided for him.

And he would see it through this time.

————————–

Tag List - @wavesofchaos @violet-potter @rennysketch @emma-andrea1 @lovesammikinzz @fuzzyfestcat @msrawog @notsaelty @lust-for-pan @aces-tattooartist @jinxxangel13 @lotr-got @bitterspoons @realrintaro @gatorgirl151 @inutheangel @heartfully10 @lucaaahhh @juniper-july19 @anuttellaa @gfksz @bussyvussy @punksnotdeadbutiam @ablofftoneverland-blog-blog @slut-for-menn @vyliie @army-moa75 @juwhls @aqlodun @lovelybaka

#zuko x reader #zuko x oc #zuko imagine #avatar the last airbender #avatar the last airbender fanfiction #prince zuko #avatar the last airbender imagine #aang #sokka #katara #avatar: the last airbender #avatar #avatar aang #the thread of fate

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bitethedevil · 6 months ago

Text

Living with The Devil You Know (Raphael x Tav): Chapter 8

Chapter: one, two, three, four, five, six, seven, eight, nine, ten, eleven, twelve, thirteen, fourteen, fifteen, sixteen

Read this fic on AO3 (Link)

Fic Summary: Tav broke their agreement by handing the Crown of Karsus to Mystra instead of Raphael. Not only that, but she also robbed his house and killed his incubus. Raphael is patient and he is determined to get his revenge.

…Tav isn't too bothered. She will figure something out eventually. Until then she just has to find a way to live peacefully with a devil.

Chapter Summary: Tav snaps. Her determination to get out becomes stronger than ever and she decides to change her tactics when it comes to dealing with Raphael.

AN: This turned super horny, idk what to tell ya. Also, I found it really difficult to write Hope because she just acts and speaks in such a specific way that's really hard to capture.

TW: Mentions of Abuse

WARNING: NSFW

Tav sat up in the bed and looked at him. Raphael so blatantly admitting to what he had done had made something snap in her head. It was as she was finally resurfacing back to reality and back to the person she had been before Raphael had gotten his claws in her. For the first time since she got to the House of Hope, she saw him for what he was.

“I thought you said that your plan was to kill my friends and then me,” Tav said with a calmness that surprised even herself.

“And I am a man of my word,” Raphael said, still lying in bed. He was studying her face for a reaction. “I never specified when. I will one day take your soul, which is my property by right, and should your friends decide to pay us a visit I will kill them. Though I have removed any motivation they might have to come knocking on my door, for which you are very welcome, by the way.”

He ran his fingers over the metal cuffs around her wrists.

“So, you are not even trying to lure my friends here. You intend to keep me here…indefinitely...” Tav said.

“Yes,” he said.

“Why?”

“Because I want to,” he answered. “I made it clear from the beginning that you would never leave, did I not? Death would have been all to easy for such a fearless little thing like you. It has been much more fascinating to see you trying deal with all those wonderful conflicting feelings of yours.”

She could see it in his eyes and his widening smile that he was expecting a reaction from her by saying this. He wanted her to get angry, to cry, to be scared. Something in his eyes reminded her of her father. The way he would look at her after he had beat her or said something cruel to her to get a reaction out of her during her childhood. That gleeful anticipation as they waited for her to either explode or break.

She looked at him and was quiet for a moment. She could hear her blood pounding in her ears out of anger, but her expression remained unreadable.

Then a smile spread across her face, and she leaned forward to brush a hand over his hair. She kissed him sweetly on the lips and he froze.

She wished that she could bottle up the look of genuine confusion she saw on his face.

She did not say anything. She just laid back down on the bed beside him. She pulled his arm around herself and got comfortable.

Raphael had made a misstep in his eagerness to piss her off: he had admitted that it was not his plan to kill her anytime soon.

Tav was not going to let herself be a passive player in his little game anymore. She would play and she would win. Not by giving him the resistance that he seemed to be thriving on, but by giving him exactly what he wanted.

He had told her the first day they met that he liked when people put up a fight. She would not. She would shower him with affection, heed his every whim, be his adoring little mouse, and when she finally found that damn hammer, she would watch him burn, just as she had watched her father do all those years ago.

As always, he was gone when she woke up. She got dressed. Instead of searching for the least provocative piece of clothing she could find as she usually would have, she grabbed a rather revealing dress from the wardrobe.

It was a tight-fitting dress with a plunging neckline in a burnt orange color that complimented her red hair. There was a matching gold choker with yellow stones that she also put on.

It looked completely foreign on her who had mostly dressed in thick robes for the majority of her life. It felt more like a costume, she thought as she looked herself in the mirror. Then again, she was definitely playing a part with what she had planned, so perhaps it was fitting.

She left the boudoir. She reached the entrance to the main area where she usually ate her breakfast when she stopped in her tracks and her eyes widened.

With her back turned to Tav, she was looking out over the balcony: it was Hope.

Hope! How could she had forgotten Hope? Tav felt terrible but she had not as much as given a thought to the odd Dwarven woman she had met back when she had broken into Raphael’s home. Tav had even promised to free her, she remembered with a knot in her stomach.

It had been too risky to free her. She even remembered selfishly thinking to herself that it was not her problem before they left. What Raphael did in his privacy was not her business. Neither her nor her companions ever spoke about her after they had left.

How fitting that Tav herself should end up in the very same position as her. She really did deserve it in a way, she thought to herself. She completely understood why Hope had stayed away from her during her time there. She had every right to hate her.

“Hope…?” Tav called out softly.

The projection of Hope turned around and a wide cheery smile spread across her face.

“There you areee! And without my sister or his new one at your heels!” she said in a cheerful tone. “He has barely had time to torture me since you got here, you know? Maybe if he leaves me long enough, I’ll be in one piece for the first time in years!”

The sad and pitying look in Tav’s eyes strongly contrasted Hope’s cheerful demeanor.

“What is it? Are you hurt?” Hope asked, looking her up and down. “Hurt, but you still look like you are in one piece…Hm…Oh! Oh! Did he drown you? Suffocate you? Was it the Omuan dreamcatcher? Oh, he loves that one.”

“I’m fine, Hope…” Tav said quietly as she tried to hold back the ocean of emotions that was building up inside herself by seeing Hope again.

She could not even begin to imagine the things Hope had endured. Her heart had sunk to the floor. Who knows how long Hope had resisted Raphael’s persistence? And Tav had brushed her off back then instead of saving her while she still had a chance…

“Oooh, no one’s fine here for long,” Hope said with the same manic intensity. “He prods and pokes and slices and cuts and then he puts you back together to do it all over again!”

Tav took a deep breath. The guilt she was feeling was crushing her.

“I’m so sorry, Hope,” Tav managed to say. “For not saving you back then…”

Hope went quiet for a moment.

“And I’m sorry that you are here…” Hope said in a sad tone, though it quickly turned hopeful again. “But…your friends will come with the hammer and save you! Maybe they will smash my chains as well. Oh, please don’t leave me here after you kill him…”

Tav sighed. She almost did not have the heart to tell her.

“My friends can’t get to it right now…Raphael took it back,” Tav said in a defeated voice. “But I’m determined to find out where he is hiding it. When I do, I will free both of us.”

Hope's smile returned even bigger than before.

“This is great news!” Hope said. “It means it’s here. It will be, it has to be, it is! It’s hidden, but it’s here.”

Tav’s brow furrowed.

“How are you so sure?” she asked.

“It’s what he does…” Hope said, still smiling but with a sad tone in her voice again. “He dangles things right in front of your nose. Freedom, riches, everything you could ever want! Always so close that you can smell it and always just out of reach.”

The projection of Hope froze after they both heard a noise. A servant was walking down the corridor towards them.

“Oh! I have to go,” Hope whispered.

“No, wait—” Tav said, but Hope had already disappeared.

Tav was looking at the spot where she had just stood. If Hope was right, there was a chance that she could find the Orphic Hammer and escape on her own without the help of her friends, which would be ideal.

Her meeting with Hope reaffirmed her plan. Resisting him was not the way to go. Hope was the living example of that. Perhaps, there was a chance that he would even grow bored with her if she simply gave him what he wanted.

She would keep the peace. She would keep him happy and distracted for as long as it would take her to figure out how to escape and then she would strike.

She had been scouring the parts of the house that she could access without servants or debtors watching her for where Raphael might be hiding the hammer. There were a couple of options for where it could be that she knew of: the archive or the vault.

It was obviously not on display in the archive, but she knew that there were more to the archive than what met the eye. She had heard that more artifacts were hidden in the bowels of the house underneath the archive. How she would access it or even find the entrance, she was not sure, but perhaps Hope knew if she could find her again.

Then there was the vault. Her and Gale had tried to break into it back when they had broken into his house, but without any luck. The lock was heavily protected with magic, but if she could get to it without any debtors or servants watching, she might be able to crack it with enough time on her hands.

She had given up for the day, but at least she now had some leads as to where to look. She knew that it would not be long until Raphael arrived home again, so she sat down in the archive to read and prepare herself for her role as his adoring prisoner.

For once he sought out her and not the other way around. He entered the archive and smiled when he saw her. He was in human form. She looked up from her book and smiled back warmly, without showing as much as a trace of bitterness in her expression. She saw him narrow his eyes at that, but his smile did not falter.

It was clear that he was still waiting for a reaction. For her to either explode or break down crying. It was delicious to see him treading so carefully, because he was not sure what to do next. She was not following the script that he had so carefully planned out for her, and she could see that underneath his smile, there was a tinge of frustration over it.

“Evening,” Tav said breaking the silence.

He took a seat in the sofa opposite from where she was sitting.

“Good evening,” he said back, still studying her face for a reaction.

Tav’s smile widened as she noticed how he had decided to sit away from her. She closed the book she was reading and put it on the table before getting up from her seat. She walked over to where he was sitting at a leisurely pace. He sat in silence as his eyes followed her every step.

He then seemed to notice she was wearing much more revealing clothing than she usually did. His eyes were devouring her exposed skin for a moment before they settled back on her face.

She sat down right beside him on the sofa. She leaned forward to place a quick kiss on his cheek that seemed as casual as if she had done it a hundred times before. His body tensed but he did not move away from her.

“How was your day?” she asked with a bright smile.

She could see that there was a bit of amusement to his smile now. It was clear that he was not quite sure what was happening, but he knew that she was up to something.

“Slightly tedious,” he answered casually. His eyes drifted down to her dress and lingered on her cleavage for a moment. “You look even lovelier than usual. The dress suits you…as does that charming smile of yours. You really should smile more, my dear.”

Tav’s eye twitched in annoyance at his last comment, but she quickly hid it. Though not quickly enough that Raphael did not notice it, and she could see the satisfaction in his smile at his comment managing to get a reaction from her, albeit a small one.

“Thank you. That’s sweet of you to notice,” she said instead of the many things she wanted to say to that comment. “It’s difficult to smile when I miss you so much all the time.”

“Is that so?” he purred and snaked his arm around her waist to pull her closer.

She was not fooling him, and she could see it in his face, though that did not stop him from seeing how far he could push her in the little game they were playing.

“Mhm” she affirmed and leaned more against him.

“Hm,” he hummed and kissed the side of her head before murmuring into her ear: “Nothing ruins a good play quite like actors overplaying their parts, dear.”

She smiled and turned her head towards him. Her nose was almost touching his and she was looking directly into his brown eyes.

“You’re one to talk,” she said before kissing him.

He kissed her back and tightened his grip around her waist. He put his other arm under her leg and lifted her to sit on his lap.

He was in control again and Tav was not having it. She was done with simply letting him do what he wanted to her and be a passive participant like she always was with him.

She snaked her arm down between them and felt his hardening erection. He made a low groan in response and his tongue invaded her mouth. Both of his hands were around her, kneading her ass as she rubbed him through his pants. It did not take long before she could feel that he was fully hard.

She tried to discreetly unbutton his pants while they were kissing, but one of his hands slid up her back and into her hair. He yanked her head back.

“What is it that you are trying to achieve with all of this?” he asked, looking into her eyes. Though his question had no doubt been meant to sound threatening, his tone and dilated pupils revealed just how aroused he was.

Tav smiled. Oh, she was having fun with this. It was immensely satisfying for her to finally see him a little rattled and confused. She traced the outline of his cock through his pants.

“Do you want me to stop?” she asked.

Raphael growled in a way that sounded simultaneously aroused and frustrated, as she touched him. He yanked her head back further, so her neck was exposed to him. He left a kiss and a gentle bite just above the choker she was wearing, before letting go of her hair.

“Off,” he commanded. He gave her a firm but not painful slap on her ass and then gestured for her to get off his lap so they could go to the bedroom.

To her surprise he indulged her and let her take the lead, at least for the moment it seemed. He had always been on top of her, but now she was on top of him, kissing her way down his body. She heard his breathing become heavier and heavier the closer she came to the part of him that was aching for her.

The moment her kisses and bites down his stomach reached to just above his cock, she heard his breath hitch slightly at the sensation. She saw his cock twitch in anticipation. It was her first time seeing it so up close. Even in his human form it was impressive in both length and girth.

She teased him by leaving sloppy kisses and small licks up and down his shaft, all while keeping eye contact with him. She could see that the teasing was getting to him. His body was aching for her, and he seemed to be on the verge of losing control.

“Are you��enjoying yourself?” he asked impatiently, referring to her endless teasing. She could hear that he was getting impatient, but it was too delicious to have him in the palm of her hand like that for her to stop.

“Mhm,” she affirmed and ran her lips over his shaft, earning her a groan.

She felt his hand tangle in her hair. He was not taking control over her movements yet, but it was a clear warning that he would if she kept going.

“Patience is a virtue, you know,” she said.

She teased the head of his cock with her tongue. It made him instinctively tighten his grip on her hair and groan deeply.

“Is that so?” he said. “So is humility, I hear.”

With that he pushed her head down, signaling that he was done waiting. He inhaled sharply as she took him fully in her mouth. When she began moving her head up and down on her own, his grip on her hair loosened and he let her do it at her own pace.

It did not take long before she managed to push him over the edge. She dug her nails into his thighs as he came in her mouth. He held her hair in a grip that told her that he expected her to swallow. His seed was almost burning in her mouth, but she forced herself to swallow.

He was breathless. He loosened his grip and ran his fingers through her hair instead.

“Such a good little mouse,” he said condescendingly, almost as if to a pet, which somehow managed to both piss her off and turn her on at the same time. “Come here.”

He gestured for her to kiss him. As she did, she wondered exactly how far he would let her take her little game. She felt daring. She wondered, not for the first time, how it would be to sit on that smug face of his and shut him up.

She moved further up his chest, and he must have guessed her intentions, because he smirked and grabbed her. He pushed her backwards, so she landed on her back. He pinned her to the mattress and then he started kissing his way down her body, the same way she had done with him.

“Control freak,” she muttered under her breath. She received a bite on her stomach for that comment.

Raphael was twice the tease that she had been. When he finally reached her now dripping core, he started teasing her with his tongue in an excruciatingly slow pace. She bucked her hips against his mouth, which only made him grab around her thighs to hold her down.

“Tut-tut. Patience is a virtue, dearest,” he said repeating her own words.

“You’re—” she interrupted herself with a moan as Raphael lightly ran the tip of his tongue over her clit. “You’re hilarious…”

So much for staying in control and not being a passive participant. Raphael was being relentless with his teasing, to the point where she was becoming a moaning and dripping mess under him. It went on for a long time and it was pure torture.

“Perhaps I would be able to find a shred of sympathy for you, if you begged nicely,” he suddenly said. She could feel him smile against her inner thigh, as he kissed and nibbled at the skin there.

Tav had to remind herself of the role she was currently playing. She was supposed to indulge him in what he wanted instead of resisting.

“Please…” she said.

“Oh, come now, dear,” Raphael said and looked up at her with a look that was downright sinful. He inserted a single finger into her, making her grasp the sheets. “Surely you can do better than that.”

He curled his finger inside her.

“Please, Raphael,” she moaned. She almost cringed at how pathetic and desperate she sounded.

“Much better,” he said and spread her legs slightly more.

He transformed into his devil form without warning, making her jump slightly in surprise. She seemed a bit confused with why he would suddenly do so, until he lowered his head between her legs.

“Mind the horns…” he said before he started eating her out.

He had to hold her legs open, so that she would not instinctively close them and hurt herself on his horns because of the sensation she felt between her legs. She suddenly understood why she had changed into that form: his tongue was not only longer but it was also forked.

He was looking up at her through the whole thing. He was making a low rumbling noise in his chest that almost sounded like a deep purring sound as he hungrily ate her out. His long tongue was inside her, and it almost sent her over the edge immediately.

She came harder than she ever had before, and it took her by complete surprise. She was grasping the sheets and on the verge of screaming as her climax washed over her. She closed her eyes and tried to catch her breath as it passed. Her legs were shaking, and she could hear Raphael chuckle as he was looking at the state of her.

Fuck him for being able to make her feel like that, Tav thought.

He leaned over her and kissed her. His long tongue was almost in her throat, and she could taste herself on his tongue. It was passionate, hot, and intoxicating. When he let go of the kiss, his gaze went from her lips to her eyes.

She was looking directly into his burning orange eyes when he suddenly changed back into his human form. He kissed her again, but this time it felt sweeter and more loving. His hand was caressing her face gently.

He left sweet kisses down her jaw and neck before laying his head on her chest. An all too vulnerable gesture that made her freeze.

She was not quite sure how to react.

She put her hand on his head with the gentleness of someone daring to touch an animal that might bite them. When he did not move or make a snarky comment at the gesture, she started slowly massaging his scalp with her fingers.

He made a low rumbling noise that almost sounded like a purr. He fell asleep on her chest not long after. Tav could not sleep. His arm was around her waist and his head was resting over her heart as he began snoring softly. She looked down at him. This man who was bigger than her and who was snuggling up to her in a way that seemed completely out of character for someone like him.

There he was, the devil that rips people apart simply to put them back together and start all over again, being infuriatingly human and vulnerable in her arms.

He was doing it on purpose, the bastard, Tav thought. He knew that she was playing games with him and now he was doing the same to her just to assert control over the situation.

She would not be fooled by him again, but she would play along.

#raphael bg3 #raphael the cambion #bg3 raphael #raphael x tav #bg3 #bg3 fanfic #bg3 fanfiction #raphael fanfic #baldur's gate 3

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dilemmaontwolegs · 2 years ago

Text

The Aftermath || LN4 {3}

Pairing: Lando Norris x widow!reader Summary: Things are changing between you and Lando, slowly but surely pulling you further from your grief. Warnings: 18+ only, grief and loss, fluff WC: 2.3k

F1 Masterlist || One || Two || Three || Four || Five || Six || Seven || Eight || Nine || Ten || Eleven || Twelve || Thirteen || Epilogue

You weren’t quite able to pinpoint the moment things changed between you and Lando. It had been subtle and it had been soft, but there was no doubt it was felt on both sides.

Maybe it began the first day he showed up, when he had rescued you from the hole you had buried yourself in. Maybe it was the night he woke you from the recurring nightmare that plagued your sleep and he had held you until you could breathe steadily again. Maybe it was when he invited you to England and you said yes.

You were both surprised by the answer considering only a month ago you had struggled to leave the house and now you were going to leave the country. It was progress, and it wasn’t forever - just for ten days while Lando did some testing in Woking and raced at Silverstone.

There was only one condition to your trip, and your stance was firm on it. You did not want to see him in his race car. Just the thought of it made you ill despite him having raced the other week in Austria. You hadn’t been able to turn on the tv while the race was on, in fact you had turned your phone off completely too so you didn’t hear any news about it.

What you didn’t know couldn’t hurt you. Or that’s what you told yourself when you spent hours trying to distract yourself out in the garden. The roses were trimmed terribly because you hadn’t been able to concentrate on what you were doing. You were lucky you still had your fingers intact after some of the wayward clippings you had done while your mind drifted away on you.

It was only after you knew the race had surely finished that you turned your phone back on to see dozens of missed calls from Lando, the voicemails growing increasingly more frantic as he begged you to answer him.

“Is this all you’ve packed?” Lando asked as he picked up the carry-on sized suitcase.

“Most of my clothes are too loose,” you said with a shrug to ease his mind but you could see the worry crumple his forehead. “It’s been a while since I last went but there’s still shops in England, right?”

He chuckled as he put the bag in the boot of the McLaren René had given you. “I could get you some Quadrant gear. It would look good on you.”

“Because it’s yours or because I can make anything look good?” you joked as you pulled an exaggerated pose for an imaginary photoshoot.

His smile grew as he unzipped his bag, pulling out an oversized hoodie with his brand’s logo on it. “Let’s see.”

He pulled it over your head and you dutifully slipped your arms in as you inhaled his scent that clung to the soft material.

Taking a step back he tapped his fingers across his lips. “Hmmm,” he hummed deep in thought before nodding. “Both. Definitely both.”

Lando opened the car door for you, closing it behind you before walking around the car and taking the driver’s seat. “Did I pick up my passport?” he asked himself as he buckled his seatbelt and frowned.

“No,” you said with a shake of your head before pulling it out of your handbag to wave it in front of him. “But I did.”

“What would I do without you?” he swooned dramatically as he took it and shoved it into his hoodie pocket. The car roared to life and he connected his phone to the airplay since your playlists were a year out of date.

“Go out, have fun and live it up in your 20’s like you should,” you offered as he pulled out of the driveway.

“You’re in your 20’s too.”

“I don’t know how to have fun anymore and I think I age in dog years now, so really I'm in my mid-thirties. Which sucks because I’ll be due a midlife crisis soon.”

“I am going to prove you wrong,” he said as he reached over the gearstick and took your hand. “We are going to go out and have fun, promise.”

You were grateful to have Lando’s hoodie when you landed at Heathrow and saw that the summer weather in Monaco hadn’t extended to the UK. A miserable grey skyline greeted you outside the airport before a horn tooted in the pick up zone and Lando waved to his friend Max.

The footpath was slick with puddles and the rain only seemed to get heavier as you prepared to leave the shelter of the terminal for a mad dash to the car. Before you could step out into the downpour, Lando stopped you and pulled your hood up over your head then donned his own and took your hand.

The first time he had held your hand you had been left feeling confused and guilty. It had been the first time you felt safe in a year. It had been the first time you had felt warmth in a year. It had felt like a betrayal because it had only been a year.

You had tried to put distance between the two of you after it happened, pushing him away and rebuilding the wall around your heart that he had been stealthily dismantling brick by brick. But in true Lando fashion he had blatantly ignored your request for space and instead arrived back at your home with a large suitcase and stayed even more.

It had taken time but Lando had convinced you of what deep down you already knew, René would want you to be happy. He would not have cared that the happiness came in the form of his teammate and friend - if anything, at least you knew it was someone René had trusted and shared the same values with.

Once you were able to accept that truth and forgive yourself for the guilt you had felt, things got better. Now you welcomed the small touches, the soft kisses he pressed to your forehead and the grounding weight of his arm when he draped it over your shoulders.

“Ready to run?” he asked as he tugged the strings for your hood, closing the gap around your face to minimise the chances of getting wet.

“No, just please don’t let me slip and make an ass of myself.” You could see the phones pointed your way, thumbs tapping the capture button as they took photos of you and Lando. The hoodies weren’t enough to hide your identity but you had grown used to the attention over the years of dating and then marrying an F1 driver, it was just different now that the pictures were with Lando.

“Never,” he chuckled and tightened his fingers laced with yours, “only I can take embarrassing pictures of you.”

You sent him a droll stare but he just smirked before Max tooted the horn again and you both rushed out into the rain. Your shoes splashed into the puddles and soon a giggle escaped as you tipped your head back to feel the cold and refreshing droplets on your lips while Lando opened the car door for you.

“As much as I love hearing you laugh, come on before you catch a cold,” Lando said with a smile as he placed his hand on the small of your back, guiding you into the backseat.

“Hey, Max,” you greeted the former racer who had been in the same up and coming circles of drivers as René had been. He had become a familiar face in the last month whenever Lando jumped on the simulator in the basement and streamed with the rest of his Quadrant esports team.

“Hey, Y/N,” he nodded to the hoodie with a grin as the boot slammed shut and Lando sprinted to the front seat, shaking his hair out as he pushed his hood back. “Nice kit.”

“What’s up, bro?” Lando greeted him before following his line of sight to you in the backseat. “Looks good, right?”

“Yeah, you could totally do modelling, or be an influencer.”

“No thanks, that sounds horrible,” you said with a roll of your eyes as you buckled up. “Plus, I deleted all my social media accounts so I have no one to influence anyway.”

Max shook his head in disbelief before focusing on the road as he pulled out into the midday traffic and headed to the hotel Lando had booked.

“That Monaco tax holiday is paying off, smart lad,” Max joked as he pulled up at The Shard in the heart of the city. “Did you get the tickets?”

Lando’s eyes flickered your way and Max bit his lip before mouthing ‘sorry’ and Lando sighed. “Yes, I got those explicitly stated surprise tickets.”

“Do I get to know what they are?” you asked as you leaned in between their seats.

Lando turned and booped you on the nose. “Nope, that would ruin the surprise.”

“What should I wear?” you asked Lando as you tried to phish for information on where he was taking you while you rode the elevator up to the room on the 50th floor, but he really wasn’t giving you much.

“Whatever you feel comfortable in.”

You tugged the hem of the hoodie down lower so it hid your denim shorts and looked like you were wearing nothing underneath. “What if I’m comfortable in this?”

His lips tugged up in amusement. “Then you can wear just that.”

“Hmm, so it’s nowhere fancy, that’s a relief.”

“I would totally take you somewhere fancy in that. I especially like this part,” he said as he turned you around so your back was to the mirrored wall.

“My ass?” you joked as you looked back over your shoulder.

“That too, or more, actually, but I was talking about this,” he explained as dragged his index finger across his name that was printed just above the hem.

Your breath caught in your throat at the touch and you peered up at him as the temperature in the elevator skyrocketed faster than it was carrying you up the skyscraper.

Maybe it was being out of the house you had shared with René that spurred the sudden freedom you felt, or maybe it was the culmination of touches and sweet gestures that had been building for weeks. Whatever it was, the cage you had kept the last little piece of yourself hidden in was unlocked by it.

His eyes held yours as his palm came to rest over his name and pulled you flush against his body. Your hands naturally found their way to his shoulders as you steadied yourself and you were struck by the grey that danced in his blue eyes, holding the same electric intensity of the storm you were sheltering from. But this was your true shelter, his eyes, his arms, they were your safe haven.

“Lando?” you asked shakily as your eyes drifted down to his full lips that he wet with his tongue.

“Yes, Y/N?” he asked, his voice dropping an octave.

“Will you-” Your lips sealed shut as the doors opened at the leisure centre floor and a woman in her gym gear hopped in.

A frustrated groan nearly escaped when Lando changed his hold on you, curling his arm around your waist as he chuckled into your hair. Unfortunately the woman was only a floor below you so there was no time to pick up where you left off and then Lando’s hands were preoccupied with carrying the bags to the suite.

The space was stunning as you took it all in and your heart skipped a beat at the sight of the large bed, the only one in the suite. There had been nights when Lando fell asleep next to you, when your nightmares woke him up and he didn’t have the energy to go back to the spare room he had taken over. But this was different.

Walking further into the living room you froze at the terrifying landscape before you, the sprawling city almost invisible beneath the blanket of clouds across the skyline. It was dizzying how high up you were with only a thin pane of glass separating you from the storm outside.

“I’m afraid of heights,” you whispered as you took a step back and into Lando’s chest, his arms enclosing around you.

“I won’t let you fall.” His breath was warm on your neck as he kissed your racing pulse. “Now, what were you going to ask me in the elevator?”

You turned in his arms and draped your arms around his neck as your heart threatened to beat right out of your chest. “Will you…kiss me?”

You felt his smile on your skin as he kissed your forehead and you tipped your head back to tell him that wasn’t what you meant but he was quicker and stole the words right from your parted lips as he kissed you properly.

You might have floated away on the clouds outside if it wasn’t for his arms holding you down. Oxygen no longer meant anything as you breathed him in instead, your fingers combing into his curls with desperation to keep him close.

Both of you were reluctant to break away but with screaming lungs you pulled back with a gasp and he dropped his forehead to yours.

“Wow,” he breathed with a soft chuckle that made you giggle. “Can we do that again?”

You answered him with a kiss as your hands drifted up under his hoodie and over the hard planes of his abs. “Mhmm, yes, please.”

Click here for part four.

Tagging: @yunnie-f1 @neiich @zendayabelova @stillbreathin @dr3lover @writerscurse @christianpulisic10 @alwaysclassyeagle

#lando norris x y/n #lando norris x you #lando norris x reader #lando norris #f1 fanfic #f1 imagine #lando norris imagine #lando norris fanfic

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lizzie-queenofmeigas · 9 months ago

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So, I saw a post some time ago that was talking about how the Andals and their religion (Faith of the Seven) is more equalitarian than Old Valyria.

I don't remember exactly what their points were.

First of all, we don't know anything about Old Valyria other than that it was advanced and had dragons and practiced slavery. We know a lot about the Andals, even if their information is different depending on who is telling it.

What we know

What we do know of Old Valyria is that women were important enough for Daenys's warnings to be heeded by her father.

We know that women had enough freedom to go in a three year expedition trip with their dragon in a whole other continent.

We do know that they had female goddesses.

We do know that women were dragonriders just like the men.

We do know that men often had to marry their sisters to inherit.

We know that they ruled together.

What we can deduce

We can deduce that women were allowed to be scholars — Daenys wrote a book about her prophecies.

We can deduce that women could be warriors — Visenya was renowned for her swordsmanship and had a sword of her own that may have been made for her. There is no record of Aegon or any valyrian man finding this weird.

We can deduce that a brother needed to marry their sister to accede to inherit — We know Daenys married her brother Gaemon and their children too married and were said to rule together. Aegon had to marry Visenya for duty. Aegon "the uncrowned" had to marry his eldest sister Rhaena.

We can deduce that they had similar rights — Again, they ruled together. There was no difference between Aegon, Rhaenys and Visenya other than he was the one crowned. The three conquerors had pretty much the same power.

Why did Aegon wore the crown instead of Visenya?

Visenya was the one to crown Aegon, this is important to note. We don't know how long exactly they were planning the conquest, but this may have been something they talked about. They were going to rule over a kingdom of deeply misogynistic people, they may have agreed to give Aegon the crown and introduce more progressive ideas later.

My thinking is that after being crowned and being called king, it got to Aegon's head. He stopped heading Visenya's advice and started treating her worse. He started to accept the Andals ideals because it gave him more power, even marrying his thirteen year old son to a twenty three year old woman only because the Andals were scandalised with the union of Rhaena and Maegor.

The union of Rhaena and Maegor would have made it difficult for Aegon "the uncrowned" to acced the throne (or a future son) as Aegon I and the Andals probably wanted.

This is not exactly new, men jumping at the opportunity to have more power and betraying their female companions. This has happened many times in our own history and it happened later with Jaehaerys.

Other Theories

The Dragonbinder has an inscription that says: "I am Dragonbinder ... No mortal man shall sound me and live ... Blood for fire, fire for blood."

No mortal man. This can easily be a "Lord of the Rings" situation and if it is it means women had much more power in Old Valyria than the Andal or First Men women.

Aenys and Maegor may not be Aegon's, this could mean that the valyrians didn't mind bloodlines continuing by women's children (the lords of Westeros voted against this in the Great Council of 101) which is already a huge improvement of what the Andals do even in the face of their own laws.

Conclusion

Valyrians did have better regard for women that the Andals or the First Men.

I don't trust the Andals, they lie a lot about their own history and are religious zealots.

#old valyria #valyrianscrolls #house targaryen #faith of the seven #a song of ice and fire #asoiaf #asoiaf meta #aegon the conqueror #aegon i targaryen #visenya targaryen #visenya the conqueror #rhaenys the conqueror #rhaenys targaryen #anti house hightower

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feederheart · 4 months ago

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CW: Humiliation and lots of it. Also some bdsm and weight gain.

Death of Dignity: PART 1.

It was all mine and it was beautiful.

The towering monuments cut from stone, the opulent palaces that once housed The Kingdom’s disgraced aristocracy, the shining, golden temples to their false gods, the ports and markets trading goods from leagues beyond our borders, the grain fields that stretched into each horizon, and the bustling streets between homes, shops, and temples that had been rebuilt after the coup seven years ago, all of it was visible from my royal palace balcony that stood high above everything. As the body of the former king turned to dust beneath the city, my brethren have been hard at work restoring order on the streets above, protecting the borders from opportunistic raiders, and enforcing our vision for The Kingdom, making it the most prosperous it had ever been. Our sailors have reached new lands and are already returning with exotic trade goods that had never been seen in by anyone in The Kingdom. Our coffers have never been fuller, our grain deposits have never been greater, and our reservoirs are at maximum capacity and teeming with fresh fish.

Of course, it wasn’t always like this. As I mentioned before, countless good, strong men and women lost their lives during the aftermath of our coup; there were even thirteen straight days when I had to stay locked up in a temple without food, water, or any hope of relief before I was rescued by the gods that chose me for this. At the time, so long ago, it seemed that despite living every waking moment crushed by heavy taxes and unfair laws written only to benefit the aristocracy’s cavernous appetite for luxury, the common people believed that their false gods chose those bastards to rule us all.

I had an ingenious solution to this problem.

“My King?” called out the voice of my beautiful queen.

“What is it, my love?” I responded.

“I need you,” she whined pathetically, sounding like a turtle stuck on it’s back (which probably wasn’t too far from reality)

“Where are the servants?” I asked.

“They’re still rubbing my belly, I’m still eating remember?” she responded. “And I’ve run out of food. Can you send one of the guards outside to get some more?”

“Sure, of course,” I replied warmly.

I turned around and stepped past the silken curtains that led to my private lounge. Lazily reclining on a large, reinforced, golden throne was my wife and the daughter of the former king, The Queen. Her corpulent rolls of fat spilled over the armrest and onto her lap, completely covering her silken sarong. Two chained and naked women, the daughters of the former archpriest I had executed inside a temple to the false gods, tirelessly rubbed down the bloated fat hog of a queen as she digested her gargantuan meal that included a whole pheasant, four loaves of bread, three pounds of butter and a gourd full of sugary wine. Her fat, blubbery arms rested atop her stomach just beneath her massive melon-sized bare breasts, giving the servants plenty of room to rub her down. Beneath her enormous belly were two fat legs that hardly ever saw any effort expended to walk and were even growing their own fat rolls. Wrapped around her flabby neck, ankles, and wrists were rows of glittering gold jewlery that had to be custom made to fit the corpulent queen. On her head atop her long, shining, black hair was a tiara covered in The Kingdom’s finest gemstones. The double chins on her fat, lipstick and foundation-laden face quivered with each labored breath as her lungs fought against the hundreds of pounds weighing down on them.

She was once the real owner of the throne she sat on. Now, it is mine; she only sits there because it is the only piece of furniture up here that doesn't crumble beneath her massive girth.

“What would you like for me to bring?” I asked her.

“Just more of everything, please,” she pleaded “I’m going to eat it all, I promise.”

“You know you don’t have to do that anymore?” I said to her, wondering that if in her food-fueled stupor she had forgotten that little fact.

“I know, I just don’t want you to think I’m wasting food,” she replied innocently. “I know you hate that.”

“You’re right, I do,” I added with a warm smile as I headed for the lounge door.

As I was saying, she was once the occupant of that throne, ever since I had slain her father. One may think she would hate me and would never take me as her bride but that wasn’t the case at first. She, like I, were both young, impressionable young adults who wanted change for the dogmatic kingdom, the only difference between us was that I was a lowly junior officer enlisted from an impoverish outer province and she was a bright and beautiful princess. She caught wind of our plot and sought the help of my brethren and me to overthrow the king and put herself on the throne. I had little idea I was so charming but apparently she was absolutely smitten with me and she was happy to risk her life to be our woman on the inside.

It didn’t change the fact that I had no interest in toppling the throne for her or anyone tainted with their bloodline. They too had to pay for the luxuries they took from us and I wasn’t going to let any of those thieves get off easy.

After we succeeded and installed ourselves as the new rulers, I immediately stabbed her in the back; metaphorically, of course. She begged and pleaded with me to help her understand why I had betrayed her as I had her dragged to the dungeons beneath the palace. I simply ripped the jeweled tiara off of her head and pointed at one of the diamonds.

“This alone could have saved the mountain tribes from the Great Famine,” I snarled with anger. “We could still be listening to the epics and tales of my people’s heroes as they were sang atop the mountain peaks for The Kingdom and the true gods to hear, but their voices now fall silent and their spirits were taken by starvation.”

With nothing to say, she simply sobbed as she was dragged away.

The next months were filled with assassinations, betrayals, riots, and invasions, making my struggle to seize power all the more difficult. The biggest problem by far was securing my legitimacy as I was not a scion of their false gods. I was busy trying to increase the royal palace’s security when I received word that the princess was on a hunger strike and demanded to speak to me.

So I decided to pay her a visit that night.

“You need me,” she said to me, skinny, frail, covered in rags, and bound by chains deep in the dark depths of the royal palace. “There’s trouble and you need me to help you.”

“I think you just want to get out of here and go back to your luxurious life,” I growled at her, seeing right through her ploy.

She began to break down and cry.

“Please, I’m so sorry what happened to your people,” she bawled. “Please, I’m begging you, let me out.”

“Goodbye,” I said, perfectly happy to let her waste away so that I may be done with her family forever.

She sobbed harder as I left, bemoaning her failure to trick me. I turned one last time at the doorway and saw how pathetic and defeated she looked, fighting desperately and pathetically by the chains she bound herself in for her family’s greed.

I then paused in my tracks and had a thought; I realized that she was right and she could help me after all.

“On second thought, I have an idea,” I said, turning around and walking back to her cell.

Her crying ceased and she looked up at me with her red, swollen, tearful eyes.

“A-a-an idea?” she stammered.

“Yes, an idea,” I replied. “I’ll let you not only have the throne but I’ll even return you the excessive luxuries that your spoiled self is used to, but on one condition.”

I leaned down and grinned with glee as the details of my plot materialized in my mind.

“You will do everything I say,” I whispered sternly. “And I mean everything. I’ve got my brothers stationed all over The Kingdom and if any of them even catch a whiff of something foul, they will happily convene on the palace and rip you to pieces like they wanted to when we overthrew your family. You are not in charge, I am. You are just a figurehead to keep those cumbersome loyalists happy. Is that clear?”

The princess nodded quietly.

“Your wish is my command,” she replied, knowing that she had no room to protest. “What do you want from me first?”

“To begin, despite what rumors you may have somehow heard from down here, everything is going quite well,” I lied. “We found the food that the aristocracy had been hiding for themselves and it was more than enough to end the famine. The excess, however, is takes up too much space and risks spoilage because you pigs had them for so long. Our first harvest is expected soon and our stores will be overflowing for the first time in this kingdom’s history. I need someone who will eat that excess food so that it does not go to waste.”

She looked at me sideways as if I were speaking a foreign language.

“Wait, all of it?” she asked.

“As much as I put in front of you,” I said. “Unless you want to end up here again.”

She stared at me wide-eyed in disbelief, not so much horrified but simply baffled.

“I’ll do it,” she agreed. “Just let me out of this place.”

I smiled and ordered a nearby guard to oblige her request.

After I had her restored on the throne, word got out that the princess became The Queen and nearly all of the riots had disappeared. My own supporters, however, demanded answers and some started riots of their own. One even made an attempt at my life. I pleaded with them to trust me; I had a plan.

The meals commenced shortly after The Queen’s release. She had her dignity back along with her silken clothing and jewelry with a new piece I had made for her; an iron collar to remind her of her place. She was not allowed to say a word to anybody without my explicit approval. Every night I would lock her in her bedroom with two servants as they stuffed her with bread, meat, stews, cream and butter until she could take no more. I would watch and pace around holding the same sword I used to slaughter her despotic father. Despite that, she did not seem intimidated by me. She kept her cool and her composure as she stuffed herself, hiding her discomfort as she got full. I watched as she finished every bite.

“I'm finished,” she said, looking up at me as she rubbed her tight stomach.

“No, you’re not,” I replied as I walked over ot the lounge door and knocked twice.

A moment later, the door opened and three cooks entered the room with an entire pheasant for The Queen to eat. She stared at it wide-eyed and slackjawed as it was set before her and the cooks left.

“Well?” I said as I brandished the sword. “Get eating, pig.”

The Queen closed her mouth without argument and began to eat. She took quite some time to do it, sometimes stopping to rub her stomach. If she stopped too long, I would swing my sword at a random piece of furniture to remind her to hurry up. If she gagged or retched, I held my sword up into the air to remind her that the food belonged inside her, not outside. After many hours, long after I could feel myself falling asleep, she finally finished. Satisfied, I let her rest and digest her meal.

These feedings would go on for weeks as the troubles that plagued The Kingdom slowly disappeared over time and my control was sealed. Although she was the one holding the holy scepter, the symbol of The Kingdom power supposedly handed down by their false gods, she was sitting at my feet wearing nothing but a sarong, her jewelry, and the iron collar around her neck, now attached to a leash held by myself.

I decided it was time for the entire kingdom to see my new pet hog. The there was a grand procession for Heroes Day that had to be attended by the ruler of The Kingdom. However, she could not go anywhere in public without me behind her holding her chain. This, combined with her softening flabby figure that was bare for all to see, drew shocked looks from crowds of both her family’s loyalists and my own brethren and supporters when she emerged from the palace for the first time. Her supporters looked embarrassed for her and some were even angry. However, The Queen did something that I did not see coming. She maintained her poise and even wore a smile on her beautiful face as if nothing had ever happened. Her nonchalance tempered their anger and they quietly accepted the new status quo. My brethren and supporters, on the other hand, seemed to forget their anger and instead basked in The Queen’s humiliation. Despite this, she remained poised as if she could not hear their taunts and jeers.

That night after her first outing when it was time for her to feast, I kicked the servants out of the lounge and shut the doors.

“You seem to be taking this well,” I said, frustrated by her lack of embarrassment but unwilling to let her know.

“I’ll admit, it was a little embarrassing,” she admitted. “Is that what you wanted to hear?”

“What are you trying to do?” I growled. “Are you trying to fool me into undoing everything that my brethren and I have accomplished?”

“I wouldn’t dream of it,” she answered, still poised like the queen she was. “I’ve never seen the city so full of life and excitement. Nearly everyone in The Kingdom came to see you.”

“No, they came to see you in chains and fattened like a pig.” I spat back. “They came to see your humiliation and finally cease their efforts to overthrow me.”

“You miscalculated,” she replied matter-of-factly. “If I were to break down in tears and bemoan my sorrows in front of them on a sacred holiday, they would take such great offense om my behalf and they would riot and fight until their last breaths. You would never be able to restore stability in The Kingdom if that were to happen.”

“Oh really?” I snarled, angered by her audacity. “Well how about I throw you back in a cell if I’m fucking up so bad?”

“Well then you would lose your bargaining chip keeping the loyalists in line,” she said calmly, unmoved by my threat.

I was now steaming at the ears with fury. I was ready to reunite her with the rest of her greedy, despotic family. However, something about the calm and unafraid way she looked at me, while still aggravating, reminded me that losing my cool would solve nothing.

“So what?” I said demandingly, throwing my arms up in the air. “Are you telling me you helped keep the peace by hiding your embarrassment?”

“That’s exactly what I’m saying,” she confirmed.

I scoffed.

“Why in the name of the true gods would you do that?” I demanded. “You passed up a perfect chance to fuck everything up with never-ending riots? Why?”

“The people are well-fed, richer, and happier than before,” she answered as she slowly walked toward me, swaying her hips back and forth seductively. “Like I said before, all of those people filled the streets to see you because they love you. When life was bleak, you helped them rise up and take back what was rightfully theirs. You did what my family and I failed to do; earn the respect of The Kingdom.”

My fiery rage was supplanted by dizzying bafflement. Her being a step ahead of me and still submitting to me made me deeply uncomfortable as was her approach. I grabbed the chain and yanked it; The Queen yelped as she fell onto her hands and knees right in front of my feet.

“What is your ploy?” I demanded, sounding more intimidated than intimidating.

“My ploy is that my kingdom needs a hero like you,” she said. “And I want to help you and keep you happy.”

“You want to keep me happy?” I growled. “How about I double your fucking meals, how does that sound?”

“Only if you stay with me all night as I eat,” she crooned as she kneeled at my feet and looked up at me, her eyes shining fearlessly and seductively. “Something tells me that you like seeing me stuff myself and ruin my body with excessive calories. I think you enjoy seeing me stuffed full, unable to move because of my gluttony.”

The brain in my skull was screaming at me to kick her for stepping so far out of line. The brain between my legs, however, kept me paralyzed as she rubbed my crotch over my tunic.

“Fine, I’ll stay,” I said, the latter brain having won against the former.

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torukmaktoskxawng · 1 year ago

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tsamsiyu ta'em - the road to success

Masterlist - part seven

Summary: With her brother's family gone, Kayla gets to work becoming one of the People.

Pairing: Ronal/Tonowari/Original Female Character

Tag: #tsamsiyu ta'em fic

posted on ao3

Word Count: 9k+

Taglist (bold indicates “could not tag”): @mooniequeen @shit-i-say-shit-i-think @heart-an0n @amiets2 @slutforsmut4ever @yeosxxx @im-in-a-pansexual-panik @sucker4angstt @inolaphoenix @andyfromku

Warnings: canon-compliant, canon-typical violence, mature language, adult content, slow burn, polyamory, found family, cool aunt agenda, alien/human (technically avatar), jake sully sister agenda, time skips, I'm trying to hurry up and get to the good parts so bear with me, fluff, angst, adopted spider, tags to be added

A/N: Holy shit, you're telling me I have to stretch this fic out until 2025 now?! *deep breaths* We got this, ya'll. We waited thirteen years for a sequel... we can wait a little longer for the next one... *crying 'cause I'll be thirty-one when the last movie comes out*

More determined than ever, Kayla gets to work on earning her ikran. The faster she tamed a banshee, the faster she can search for Spider and hopefully bring him home. She didn't know Quaritch-- Hell, she didn't think she ever would considering everyone believed he was dead, but from the stories Kayla has heard, he sounded like a tyrant and she couldn't afford to think about what might be happening to Spider or if he was even still alive. That last thought she tried not to think about, instead she kept herself busy trying to work her way up to her Iknimaya. She desperately wanted to fulfill the promise she made to her nieces and nephews, hoping for their sake -and Spider's- that the kid was unharmed and still kicking.

Even she could admit that she worried for the teen, scared of what Ardmore could be capable of. The general was stone cold, inside and out, and Kayla couldn't imagine that her former superior was ever good with kids. If Ardmore is as incapable of empathy as Kayla had previously claimed, she could only imagine what harm that could mean for Spider, and honestly, it kept her up at night.

So she tried not to think about it. Instead, she worked hard trying not to be a nuisance to the clan. From dawn to dusk, she would do her part to see that the clan was working like a well-oiled machine. She tended to the ikran, but only to the ones who had riders or who had lost one. Norm explained those banshees were safe for her to care for since the ikran only know one rider in their whole lives. She helped weave any necessities, like baskets, despite still being a little worse for wear at the task. She didn't take part in many festivities, but she sang and cheered from the sidelines. Although she couldn't hunt yet, she helped clean any kills made during the day. Now almost a pro in the language, she would bless the body of the creature, thanking the animal for its sacrifice and bidding its soul return to Eywa. Kayla was still hesitant about the existence of the Great Mother, but she did what she had been taught in order to earn both the People's and Eywa's respect.

The Omatikaya were strong under Tarsem's orders. He was younger than Neytiri, likely only a child during the Last Battle of the Hallelujah Mountains fifteen years ago. Jake had complimented the wisdom Tarsem had for his age, but Kayla was skeptical at first, remembering what she and Jake were like at Tarsem's age. Then again, Tarsem was not a child of Earth, and Na'vi at his age had a great many accomplishments that even Kayla was envious of. Kids on Earth could learn a lot from the kids of the Na'vi, and the thought alone only made Kayla think of Spider until she was spiraling again.

Tarsem was surprisingly respectful of Kayla, which she can only assume was an advantage of being the former olo'ektan's sister. He took it upon himself to help her perfect her archery skills and even brought her on some of his own hunting parties. It was a breath of freedom she had never gotten under Jake's leadership so she greatly appreciated Tarsem's. Even though she wasn't given permission to kill anything, it was a great learning experience. Norm accompanied Kayla on some of these hunting parties and he praised whatever skills she showed off, always claiming that she was getting better.

But that wasn't good enough for her, and looking back, Mo'at claimed that even the forest recognized Kayla's determination. The tsahik spun a tale about how Eywa gave Makaylasully her blessing that night, and the next day Kayla had gone hunting with Txe'la and Meui. They returned by midday with a killed and cleaned yerik dragging behind Kayla and wide smiles on each of their faces. The whole clan was happy for her, much to her surprise and excitement, the adrenaline still running through her veins. Norm and Max had apparently placed bets on when she would make a kill and Max walked away with a priceless bottle of whiskey Norm had been saving. Kayla wasn't gonna let Norm live that down.

To make up for doubting her determination, Norm offered to tag along when Kayla went to claim an ikran. Tarsem also accompanied Kayla along with one other young Na'vi warrior ready to ride. They all trudge back to the rookery, the same one Kayla had been visiting to tend to the banshees who wouldn't try to kill her. Now, with the knowledge that the only one that would try to kill her would be hers, Kayla had to admit her confidence was through the roof, and later she would talk about how reckless and stupid she looked.

"Has there ever been an ikran in history who didn't want to kill their rider?" Kayla mocked a whisper to Norm when he explained this behind the waterfall leading up to the rookery.

The smile he gave her was genuine and sweet, "Kiri."

Her eyes widen and her jaw drops, "Kiri?"

"Yeah, she was young, younger than most Na'vi kids when they first gain an ikran. She had simply asked the beast to be her friend and that was that."

Tarsem scoffed, but it was fond and playful, "That girl is touched by Eywa. I could place her in front of Palulukan and she would befriend it... if her mother didn't kill me first, of course."

Kayla snorts and tilts her head back to feel the mist of the waterfall against her face, calming her excitement even as Tarsem leaned toward her, "Would you like to go first, Makaylasully?"

"Hell yeah," she grinned, opening her eyes that were practically sparkling with determination, "Let's get this over with."

"Got your catcher?" Norm had asked even though he was already staring at the wrapped-up frond strung to Kayla's hip.

She only nods and heads out without looking back, worried that she'd have second thoughts if she did so. She had been getting better with heights since her first trip into the rookery, getting used to the drop-offs ever since she forced herself to continue coming back here to tend to the ikran. Kayla purposely kept her gaze in front of her, stubbornly keeping herself from looking down. Already, she could hear the familiar flap of heavy wings and air-piercing screeches, her nerves slightly calmed with the familiar environment she had purposely gotten herself used to for this moment.

Walking out into the heart of the nests, Kayla was completely surrounded by ikran, all of various different colors and sizes. Some greeted her with loud roars and some even fled the scene before she could even look at them. It greatly narrowed down her search. She kept her steps slow, making sure to make as much eye contact as possible with every ikran she came across, just to see if they were going to willingly take the bait. None did, however, flying or crawling away whenever she got too close with the banshee catcher now unwound and dangling in her hand. Each time she thought she had met her match, she took that last step forward and the banshee would suddenly retreat in fear and distaste. A small bit of doubt was beginning to form in her gut. Maybe none of the ikran would choose her. Maybe they smell the drive to rescue Spider off of her and decided that her suicide mission was not worth their lives.

Whatever they smelled, it only angered Kayla further... but she wasn't the only one.

Kayla had sensed her before she ever saw her. The avatar stopped in her tracks when the hair on the back of her neck stood up, then slowly turned her head off to the left, in the direction where she had sensed danger.

It was a large female, likely older than those who usually choose their riders. Just goes to show that both she and Kayla were awfully picky and determined. The ikran was a light green, close to the same colors found on reef ticks or the neon signs outside Kayla's apartment back home. Scattered across the old girl's back in complicated, intricate design was bright, extraordinary shades of purple, striking like lightning bolts across the vast, wide wings when she spread them open to show off the threat she was. Kayla smiled, teeth glimmering in the sun at the clear challenge. Both the avatar and ikran hiss at one another, showing off their fangs in the midst of the stand-off. Norm and the others stood off to the side, eyes and smiles wide in wonder, whooping and hollering in chorus as encouragement for Kayla.

"You got this!"

"Sivako!"

The cheering sent a thrill down Kayla's spine as she began to rotate her wrist and twirl the meresh'ti cau'pla in the air, faster and faster as the stand-off drags on. She keeps her eyes trained on the ikran's, which clearly aggravated the creature to no end. Eventually, the banshee took the bait, enraged by the eye contact until she couldn't take it anymore. Jaw open wide, the ikran lunged forward with a fearless hiss, diving down to Kayla without a care in the world.

She's only given a split second to dive out of the way of those jaws before Kayla is forced to throw the frond without even aiming. Once she side-stepped, Kayla whipped the catcher around like she practiced and watched with amazement as the item dutifully stuck and wrapped firmly around the creature's jaws, clamping it shut. Thank Eywa for razor palms.

"Yeah, Kayla, show her!" Norm cheered, blue fist raised in the air.

Kayla's mind could barely accept the fact that she got the beast muzzled in just one go before she was forced to remember that the ikran don't immediately give up after said muzzlement. Her harsh reminder came in the form of the banshee swinging its whole head back in her direction, hitting Kayla squarely in the nose, the blunt force drawing a large crunching sound to ring through the air and even make Tarsem cringe. Kayla flew backward from the impact, tumbling through the rookery and startling other ikran to fly away. Dizzy, Kayla shook her head to try to rid the fatigue and struggled to her feet, groaning in pain as she stood. With the ikran momentarily forgetting her in exchange for trying to get the muzzle off, Kayla takes the time to bring the back of her hand up to her face, pressing gently against her nose. When she drew her hand back to see, Kayla immediately recognized the blood, a crimson liquid running down her blue skin.

The avatar snarled, death glare piercing into the ikran's flesh, "What a bitch."

It was muttered under her breath, but the ikran reacted as if she had heard it. Whipping its head back in her direction, the banshee hissed dangerously back at Kayla, lowering its neck to get in a charging stance, and rearing its wings back. Kayla didn't wait it out this time. This time, she was pissed and instead took charge, screaming in frustration as she ran full speed ahead at the creature.

When the ikran reared her head up to possibly strike down against her opponent, Kayla took her opening and dove, just in time to miss the brunt force of the ikran's jaw hitting the dirt where Kayla had once stood. Briefly stunning the beast from the harsh impact, Kayla casually whipped her kuru braid around and stood in the juncture of the banshee's neck, and grabbed the creature's own tswin. The ikran isn't given any time to react before tsaheylu is formed, the tendrils of Kayla's queue mending with the creature's.

"Enough!" Kayla demands out loud.

All screeches from the surrounding banshees suddenly became a buzzing white noise as everything else in the universe halted between the Na'vi and the beast. The ikran stopped struggling, her entire frame shivering in response to the bond. Kayla lets out a gust of air, exhausted and in disbelief. Behind her, she could hear Norm and the other Na'vi cheering, whilst the rest of her senses were now focused solely on her new spirit sister.

After catching her breath, Kayla lifted herself up onto her new mount, settling her legs on either side of the ikran's strong neck. Kayla runs her hands up the creature's neck, feeling a pleasant shiver run between their bond as if the ikran was mimicking a purr. Norm eventually jogged up to the pair, beaming up at them, "Wow. You made it look so easy!"

Kayla flashed an unimpressed look down at her friend, blood still dripping out of her nostrils. Norm nervously chuckled before pointing his arm out in the direction of the open sky, "Don't let me keep you waiting. The first flight cements your bond and it's best you go now rather than later. Remember what I told you."

Kayla nods, briefly thinking about how it felt to command a direhorse forward before her thoughts are interrupted by the ikran screeching in response and flapping its powerful wings. Shit, Kayla forgot the beast could hear her thoughts. She's barely given enough time to cling onto the ikran before it takes flight, nearly knocking Norm off the edge before he narrowly dodges the wings.

For a moment, the flying felt an awful lot like falling, but not like Kayla could blame her ikran. After all, the only thing her rider could think about was her fear of falling, therefore the beast had no choice but to do just that. They fell for what felt like hours, Kayla keeping her screams inside her head as she clung onto her mount for dear life, just waiting for them to finally crash at the bottom, but it never came. By the time Kayla was brave enough to open her eyes, she realize they were still falling, not exactly calming her fear of heights. Steeling her legs and squeezing them around the ikran, Kayla yells over the wind, "Straighten out and glide!"

The ikran did as told, immediately catching the wind underneath her wings and slowing their descent, drifting peacefully through the sky instead. Kayla took a moment to catch her breath and relax her heartbeat, blinking rapidly against the brightness. Her arms shook like a leaf but she forced herself to keep her grip firmly on her banshee's two queue antennae like reins on a horse. As they soar peacefully through the air, Kayla relaxes enough to look around, but never down. Her breath is stolen by the sights-- much similar to the first time she rode an ikran as a prisoner. It was so quiet up here, unlike all the other sounds constantly in her life, like the murmurs and yips of the Omatikaya clan and the beeping machines at the biolab. Up here, no sound touched her, and Kayla felt all the muscles in her body relax.

Her ikran calls softly into the wind, grabbing her attention. The creature is far more docile now, calm and serene. The banshee ate up Kayla's attention like a cat, much to her amusement, the creature shaking her muzzle when Kayla scratched the right spot with her nails. Such a mighty, elegant creature, needs a mighty, elegant name. Kayla took a moment to ponder on a name as the soft wind brushed gently through her hair like a mother would to her child. The avatar and ikran were gliding instead of flying, but neither complained as Kayla's thoughts were elsewhere. She wanted to think of several names before she could decide on one, but for some reason, she couldn't get past the first one that came to mind without much thought process. She didn't have a clue why she thought of that name, but it came to her within a split second. It was an Earth name, but one born from Greek mythology and just as mystical as her newly found friend. It fit so well, for some reason.

Eclipse was slowly approaching so Kayla decided to turn back, telling her ikran where to go with only her mind and returning to the rookery. There, she could hear Tarsem and Norm before she could even see them as they whooped and hollered in greeting. The young warrior that traveled with them was gone, likely out flying their own new ikran, while Norm and Tarsem stayed behind to greet the new banshee riders upon their return. Kayla's descent was a little rough, like trying to feel the rollback when hitting the brakes of a car for the first time. When the ikran landed, Kayla hopped off and disengaged tsaheylu, taking a moment to run her hand over the length of the beast's neck in gratitude.

The ikran chirped in fondness just as Norm approached with a wide grin, "What'd you think?"

"I'm speechless," Kayla beamed, adrenaline only now beginning to wear off.

Norm laughs and placed his hands on his lips, looking up and down the length of Kayla's new ride with a smile that can only be described as amazement, despite the fact that Norm's seen it all for fifteen years. Apparently, you can never really get used to it, "So! What did you decide to name her?"

Kayla shrunk in on herself, turning a little bashful while trying to hide her smile, "Promise you won't laugh?"

"Promise."

"Thena."

~~~~~~~~~

When Kayla and the young warrior both returned on top of their ikran, the whole clan erupted in triumph and celebration. And they were not the only ones who were happy for the new warriors. All the scientists-- both avatars and humans alike, ran out to Kayla and her ikran to either embrace her or offer their congratulations. Kayla soaked up the praise with pride, smiling from ear to ear, her tail leisurely swaying to show her contentment. Preparations for a celebration were made as night closed in, with dancing and music and several firepits all circling each other to accommodate the amount of Na'vi and humans taking up the space. Mo'at had blessed both Kayla and the young warrior for their achievements then led the dancing and songs.

Even Kayla found herself dancing and singing willingly, despite her prior insecurities. She would get small bursts of sadness throughout the whole night, thinking if only her family could see her now. The Sullys had only been gone for a week. Had they stayed just a little bit longer, perhaps Kayla would've been able to go with them now that she achieved what was holding her back. She never had time to pity herself, however, since either a friend of hers or a complete stranger would easily pick her up and pull her into the next dance. Both Na'vi and humans danced, together in person and spirit, sharing the same ideals for the future and for once not fighting each other.

After hours, the celebration was technically over and the Na'vi were all settling down for the night, but Norm and Kayla were far from done. Now back in their human bodies, they decide to continue drinking in celebration of Kayla's success in the confinements of her trailer. She had burst out laughing, already a little tipsy, when Norm snuck in the whiskey he stole back from Max that night.

"Shh! You want me to get caught?" Norm snapped at her under his breath, though he, too, was smiling as he closed the air decompression door behind him, "I had been saving this bad boy for a special occasion and I'll be damned if I let Max take that from me."

They drink out of some old glassware that had been left behind in the trailer back in the war and Kayla had recently cleaned and utilized them. They drank at the small dining room table that had been dusted and cleaned once more, but Kayla had kept some of the old things in their place out of respect. She understood that Jake and Norm once spent months here, confined to these four walls with only each other for company. Well... each other and the two women Kayla now spotted from the picture lying on the table, right where she left it.

She takes a sip of her drink before sliding the picture over to Norm, placing her finger above the redhead standing behind Jake, "So is that Dr. Augustine?"

Norm took a moment to tilt his head back and swallow the remains of his whiskey before inspecting the photo. His eyes widened comically as if forgetting he had left these pictures behind when surrendering the space to Kayla, "Oh! Yeah, that's what Grace looked like."

"She's pretty," Kayla hums behind her glass, maneuvering her finger to point at the woman in the ponytail and aviators, "And her?"

Kayla carefully watched as Norm took his time answering again, his eyes carrying some sort of heavy burden while staring at the photo of the woman. He swallows down whatever emotions were swimming behind his eyes, quickly sobering up while nodding, "That's Trudy. She used to fly all us scientists around."

"So you all knew each other pretty well?"

"Yeah. She tried to fight and help the Na'vi in the end."

Kayla caught onto the past tense words and slowly tilted her head toward him, "What happened?"

"... Quaritch's ship shot her down during the battle."

The faraway look in his eye brought Kayla to the conclusion of a certain mystery she was trying to solve in her head. She solemnly nods as she states, "You guys were a thing."

"I guess," Norm shrugged, staring down at his whiskey glass with a small smile, "Enough to scar Jake for life."

"You miss her? Her and Grace, I mean?"

"Yeah."

"I'm sorry."

Norm propped both of his elbows on the table, leaning forward to inspect the picture more closely, although it was likely an excuse to hide his face from her, "Thanks."

"Wow. That sounds familiar." She tries to joke, though it falls flat on her tongue when remembering her first interaction with the man sitting in front of her. She gently nudges his elbow with hers, "We sound like two broken records."

Norm scoffs halfheartedly, "Jake didn't seem as thankful when I gave him my condolences the day we met. 'You sure you guys are related?"

Thinking back, Kayla made a small 'iffy' motion with her hand, "Jake, uh... well, he had heard it all by the time Tommy's funeral came around. Over time he got sick of hearing people say they were sorry."

"Not you?"

Kayla simply shrugged, "Not many people said sorry to me."

"What...?" Norm leaned back in his chair to get a better look at her, confused and maybe appalled, "Kayla, how old were you when Tom died?"

Her blood runs cold when she realized she had said too much. Finding it hard to look Norm in the eye, she instead focused more on watching her whiskey swirl around in the glass she gently rolled in her hand, "I think I was... maybe eighteen?"

Norm's eyes widen while doing the math in his head. And as a scientist, it wasn't hard for him to solve the puzzle that had been troubling him since he met Kayla. She was clearly younger than Jake, but for some reason, she had treated Neytiri as if the Na'vi woman was younger than her. Putting that into perspective and adding Kayla's age during the time she lost her brothers, Norm felt sick to his stomach, "And Jake left soon after?"

One single nod.

"Eighteen years old... and no one thought you needed any condolences?"

She shook her head, expression impassive, "For Jake... I guess people thought since they were twins, Tommy's death was harder on him."

The snarl Norm let out was deep-rooted and vile, "That's stupid. Seems like everywhere I go, someone puts Jake on a pedestal."

The words made her freeze, eyes slowly flicking back to Norm out of suspicion, "What's that supposed to mean?"

"I mean--" And just like that, Norm exploded, laughing out of disgust, a side of him that Kayla had never seen, "I spent several years training for the opportunity of a lifetime. I worked my ass off to get to Pandora, to learn under Grace, to have my own avatar, and to learn and experience this world as one of the People. But then I get here and all of that is freely handed to Jake, a guy who only read a manual on neuro-links! It felt like a punch to the gut, and honestly, it felt as though Tom's memory was being flushed down the drain all because of his jarhead dropout of a brother! Jake wasn't even grateful for everything he had been handed until he met Neytiri."

Kayla's eyes briefly widened at the new bit of information, then she relaxed her expression and nodded, trying to hopefully defuse the situation, "All it takes is one person... Up until now, you didn't appear jealous of Jake."

He shook his head, "I haven't been for a while. Back then, Trudy helped. After that, I just accepted and even admired Jake. He's one of my closest friends," the compliments plummet, however, when Norm meets her eyes again, a shadow forming over his face as past years of resentment began to flood, "But after meeting you? I'm sorry. I didn't know I wasn't the only one he screwed over. But all the shit he put you through at eighteen-fucking-years-old?"

Norm abruptly stands, the chair beneath him scooting back in protest as he begins to pace the room, trying to relieve his anger somehow, but it only appeared to make it worse as his voice gradually rose, "It's not fair. It's screwed up and it only reminded me of the last time I saw Jake get everything handed to him while leaving others in the dust. Even now, he's upped and left, leaving the rest of us behind. Leaving you behind. I've never had a sister, but if I did I would rather shoot myself in the face than abandon her, especially if she was only eighteen years old!"

The small trailer rings in the aftermath of his shouting, the silence only interrupted by Norm's attempts to catch his breath. After realizing what he said, he shrunk a little and guilt immediately replaced the anger. Kayla only carefully watched him, face blank as she observed his behavior. He tries opening and closing his mouth to say something, anything. How he was sorry for his attitude toward Kayla's brother, how he shouldn't be complaining when his past doesn't compare to hers, yadda yadda yadda. But the words don't come, and even if they did, Kayla wouldn't have given him room to say anything.

Instead, she stood up without warning and without any inclination of what her next move would be. Face still blank as paper, she took the two steps forward needed to raise her arms and proceed to pull Norm into a hug. The embrace shocked Norm at first, causing his whole posture to stiffen under her grip, but eventually, it smoothens out and he allows his arms to wrap around her, holding her back.

Kayla let out a shuddering breath, a newfound appreciation blooming in her chest for her friend. It was... nice. Nice to have someone, for once, tell her that she had every right to be angry, instead of telling her that Jake was a different man and that he would never do that to her again. It was nice to finally have someone in her corner, to tell her that her feelings matter and that she's not alone in the resentment and betrayal she felt all those years ago. She has never had anyone like that in her life since her brother Tommy died.

For a moment, even for just a split second, she allowed herself to imagine Tommy being there for her here and now as she whispered into Norm's shirt, "Thank you."

~~~~~~~~~

Kayla took Thena out for flights every single day, though they were not meant for fun and exercise. Thena could tell through their bond that they were on the hunt, searching for something... or someone.

They flew several different routes, always keeping their eyes downcast at the forest canopy below, hoping to catch any sign of Spider. Kayla knows that the kid could very well be strapped down in Bridgehead, but on the off chance they took him off-site, Kayla wanted to be able to spot him before he was missed again.

Norm often tried to accompany Kayla on these flights, flying on top of August, his ikran. He couldn't fly with her every single day since he was trying to juggle this and all the work that was starting to pile up back at the lab, but he wanted to try just as hard as Kayla was to find the kid. He had watched Spider grow up, and even though he wasn't his guardian in any way shape, or form, Norm still helped raise the kid, along with all the other humans who were accepted into the Omatikaya clan. Norm cared for the kid just as much as Kayla did. Norm appreciated Kayla's loyalty and dedication to the boy, even though she had only known him for a little under half a year. She was determined to bring him home, even for the sake of her nieces and nephews. In many ways, bringing Spider back could mean that the Sullys could also come home, just as long as Spider never gave Quaritch or Ardmore any information about Jake or the High Camp. So even if Kayla didn't care about the kid -which would be a lie she could tell herself and it still wouldn't be true- it was still vital that Spider be rescued if it meant Toruk Makto could return to lead the war efforts.

Some days, Kayla couldn't be persuaded to take a break. On other days, she was so exhausted from wind burn and all-day flying, she could hardly lift a finger. On these particular days, she'd cut the neuro-link and let her avatar recover while she did work around the camp as a human. These were the days' Norm could find something to keep her mind off of things so she wouldn't someday snap and likely hurt someone, mostly herself.

Norm was beginning to run out of ideas before he stumbled across some old, recovered data that they had taken with them after evacuating Hell's Gate. When he briefly looked them over, he came across quite the nostalgic discovery that he just had to share with his new friend. Downloading the data onto a flash drive, he went in search of Kayla and easily found her in the greenhouse with Max, listening as he gave her a rundown of every plant they possessed in the manmade shack.

Norm made his appearance known and asked Kayla if she could come back inside, "I need to show you something."

They both made sure Max had everything together to continue by himself before they made their way back into the lab, walking into the first door and waiting for the oxygen to become breathable before taking off their masks and heading inside. Norm brings her over to a private corner of the lab and wheeled out a chair in front of a computer for her as he explained, "Apparently, all of Jake's old video logs are still available, stored away in our old database. I thought... listen. After our talk the other day, I thought I should apologize for how I ranted about everything I despise about your brother. Obviously, you have a lot more to hate about him than I do and I shouldn't have made it all about me."

She scoffed, brushing off the apology like water on a duck's back, "I don't think you did."

"Even so, I'm sorry. I think you should see these video logs," Norm offered the flash drive to her, "I'm not trying to justify his actions, but I just thought you deserved to see these because, in a way, it'll catch you up to speed on everything you missed in your brother's life. And you deserve to know all about it, including the parts he left out."

She raised her eyebrows and had to blink to bring herself back to reality, remembering to reach out and take the drive from him before nodding, "... Thanks, Norm."

He left her to it, leaving her in the lab by herself for privacy. Kayla sat down in front of the monitor, her movements slow as she inserted the flash drive, waiting for the information to load with bated breath. Within moments, nearly hundreds of video logs flash over the screen, scrolling up all by itself until it got to the very top of the list, stopping right at the thumbnail of the first video log. Kayla touched the screen, clicking the first video log and it sprung to life before her very eyes. Her breath is caught when the screen reveals a younger, human Jake, sitting as if he was right across from her at the table. He stared directly at her, looking just how she remembered him before all this happened. He had buzzed his hair before leaving for Pandora and Kayla could see his tattoos peeking out from under his T-shirt. He looked like a marine, his voice kind of monotone as he spoke into the video log.

Log Entry: 01

Location: SCI MOD

Researcher: SULLY, J.

P.I.: AUGUSTINE, G.

Date: 05/19/2154

"--And the concept is that every driver is matched to his own avatar so that their nervous systems are in tune... or something. Which is why they offered me the gig because I can link with Tommy's avatar which is insanely expensive-- Is this right? I just say whatever to the video log?"

Kayla's eyes widen and a brief laugh escapes her when Jake looks over his shoulder and the camera reveals a younger Norm and Max looking back at him. They all look like babies in these videos, younger than Kayla has ever seen any of them. After the first video log, she was much more anxious to get the others started. She had gone through each and every one of them, bug-eyed most of the time but otherwise quiet as she eagerly listened to her brother's voice.

Log Entry: 12

Location: SITE 26

Researcher: SULLY, J.

P.I.: AUGUSTINE, G.

Date: 05/30/2154

This log was different compared to the rest. The setting was different and Jake looked a little different. Something had shifted in his attitude. Maybe it was the lighting or the rest of the atmosphere, but Kayla noted how her brother looked more alive than ever compared to the previous videos. Behind Jake sat a familiar red-haired woman, looking into a microscope, either completely unaware of Jake's video log or intentionally ignoring it. Kayla could briefly see Norm moving around in the background again before her attention returned to Jake as he spoke,

"Okay. This is video log twelve, time's twenty-one, thirty-two-- Do I have to do this now? I really need to get some rack."

He had turned around and Grace did not hesitate to turn him down, glaring back at him, "No, now. When it's fresh."

Kayla snorted, amused by this older woman who knew how to straighten out her hard-headed brother. Jake turned back to the camera, huffing in annoyance just as a live version of Trudy walked past him and off-screen, "Okay, location: shack and the days are startin' to blur together. The language is a pain, but, you know, I figure it's like field-stripping a weapon. Just repetition, repetition. Neytiri calls me skxawng. It means 'moron.' Norm's attitude has improved lately. It's good he's back on board, but he thinks I'm a skxawng, too."

Kayla couldn't help the laugh that escaped her lips, trying to imagine what it must've been like for Norm and Neytiri to teach a dumbfounded Jake. Neytiri always appeared complimentary when it came to teaching Kayla her ways, and Norm was more than happy to help, but with Jake, fifteen years earlier, it didn't appear that way. Kayla continued to go through each of her brother's video logs, taking notes in her head when important information popped up.

Log Entry: 42

Location: SITE 26

Researcher: SULLY, J.

P.I.: AUGUSTINE, G.

Date: 06/29/2154

"--My feet are getting tougher. I can run farther every day. I have to trust my body to know what to do. Every day it's reading the trails, the tracks at the waterhole, the tiniest scents and sounds. She's always going on about the flow of energy, the spirits of animals. I really hope this tree-hugger crap isn't on the final."

"This isn't just about eye-hand coordination out there, you know," Grace interrupted, again sitting at the microscope behind Jake, "You need to listen to what she says. Try to see the forest through her eyes."

"Excuse me. This is my video log here." Jake snipes back at her, pointing back to the camera with his thumb. He then turned back to the camera and continued. Several video logs after this were just a compilation of what Jake had learned from Neytiri every day, one after the other.

"--With Neytiri, it's learn fast or die."

One--

"--I talked Mo'at into letting Grace into the village. It's the first time since her school was closed down."

--After the other.

Every video log told a story, even if it was just Jake rambling on about his day. In a sense, it made Kayla feel as though she was there. She felt as though she was sitting across from him as he was telling her all the cool, new things he learned, kind of like how she used to tell him and Tommy about her day after school when she got home.

Sometimes Jake steered away from his Na'vi teachings and would rant about the people he was practically living in that trailer site with. He talked about the sight he came across when he returned from a long day and wheeled into Trudy and Norm in a compromising position. Kayla had laughed, especially after seeing how horrified Jake looked from reiterating the story, his face paling at the memory.

Other times, Kayla would often watch Jake drift from his thoughts, slowly shutting down from exhaustion. One video log was just Jake slowly falling asleep until he was out cold, his head leaning into his hand that he had propped up for support. It must have been late into the night and cold as Grace finally approached Jake from behind, her shawl wrapped warmly around her as she quietly leans over to inspect him. The older woman bore a fond expression, her smile small and gentle as she leans over Jake to turn off the camera, ending the video log.

Kayla would smile at those moments. She appreciated Grace in more ways than one now. She felt as though she knew so much more about Dr. Augustine than she did before, and in a way, Kayla was able to get to know her the same way Kiri did, by watching her in videos like this one. Seeing a past version of Kiri's birth mother just casually walking around in the background of Jake's video logs felt so domestic and at the same time haunting. Grace never knew Kayla, yet the older woman was putting a smile on her face, even in death. Kayla made a mental note to one day find a way to thank this woman for everything she had done for Jake.

When there were happy videos, there were also heavy ones, reminding Kayla of her reality and the world she now lives in.

"--I'm trying to understand this deep connection the People have to the forest. She talks about a network of energy that flows through all living things. She says 'All energy is only borrowed, and one day you have to give it back.'"

Log Entry: 87

Location: SITE 26

Researcher: SULLY, J.

P.I.: AUGUSTINE, G.

Date: 08/13/2154

Jake looks tired, thinner, and has an unkempt beard in this video log. Kayla could hardly recognize him. Even on Earth, he never allowed himself to look this bad. His words are as heavy as the bags under his eyes, "Everything is backward now. Like out there is the true world and in here is the dream. It's hard to believe it's only been three months. I can barely remember my old life. I don't know who I am anymore. They're not gonna give up their home. They're not gonna make a deal. For what? Lite beer? And blue jeans? There's nothing that we have that they want. Everything they sent me out here to do is a waste of time. They're never gonna leave Hometree."

Yet again, Kayla felt as though she was actually there, experiencing it all through Jake's eyes. He makes several more videos, talking about every event that led up to the battle, then the videos are abruptly cut off. The next and supposed final video was dated days later after the fight was over. Kayla felt her eyes water as Jake spoke of Grace, Trudy, and even Tsu'tey's deaths, along with several others, but she firmly kept her emotions in check, not allowing a single tear to fall. Jake tells all the events he could remember happening during the battle, then spoke of the aftermath.

Log Entry: 98

Location: LINK CENTER

Researcher: SULLY, J.

P.I.: AUGUSTINE, G.

Date: 08/24/2154

"--The aliens went back to their dying world. Only a few were chosen to stay. The time of great sorrow was ending. Toruk Makto was no longer needed. Well, uh, I guess this is my last video log. 'Cause whatever happens tonight, either way, I'm... I'm not gonna be coming back to this place. Well, I guess I'd better go. I don't want to be late for my own party. Yeah, it's my birthday, after all. This is Jake Sully signing off."

Kayla had let out a long, gust of air, leaning back in her seat to process all of this. Looking around, she noticed the sky outside the biolab getting darker, close to eclipse. She must have been sitting there for hours as her back and legs began to scream at her. She groans, ready to stand up and move around before she looked back at the screen and froze.

There were more video logs after that.

The thumbnail for the next one made Kayla freeze. Instead of the Jake she knew growing up, she could clearly see the face of his avatar, piercing yellow eyes staring directly back at her. Her eyes flick over to the date, noting that the next one is only a few weeks after the last log. Her fingers shake as she moves over to click on it, letting the video come to life.

Sure enough, the Jake she had been learning to know sat in front of her, or more so the camera. He wasn't in any environment she recognized, the camera was now placed in front of scenery of trees and plant life. Jake looked to be alone, no one wandering around behind him, as he sat his tall self down on top of a large root sticking out of the ground, facing the camera while his ears flick nervously, "I, uh... I guess I have a bit of explaining to do. I thought I was done making these video logs, but... if there's any chance that this data finds its way back to Earth, I... I wanted this to somehow get to my sister."

Kayla's eyes widen, fingers growing cold as Jake spoke, and this time, he spoke directly at her, "Hi, Kayla. You probably don't recognize me but in case you haven't been told, it's your brother, Jake. I have so much to tell you if you haven't already been told. Needless to say, I can walk again, just not in the body you're used to seeing me in. I'm healthy, I'm the leader of my clan, I have friends, and... I'm gonna be a father pretty soon."

Kayla sucks in a sharp bit of air, eyes starting to water again as he continued, "I just thought you might wanna know. I understand if you don't. If you could, I bet you would tell me to go to Hell, but... if there's a chance that you can see this, or even hear this, I just wanna let you know how I'm doing. Alright. Uh... Jake Sully, signing off."

The video barely has time to stop before Kayla is greedily clicking on the second one, not hesitating this time. A nonconsensual smile graces her lips the second the next video plays, revealing a small, Na'vi baby settled peacefully in Jake's arms as he spoke, his voice so soft and gentle, Kayla barely recognized him.

"Hey, Kayla. I thought you'd want to meet your nephew," he tries his best to lift the sleeping baby up to the camera without disturbing the child, and Kayla takes the time to count all of the baby's fingers and toes, recognizing the baby immediately before Jake could properly introduce him, "This is Neteyam."

A tear slips down her cheek as Kayla smiles uncontrollably. Jake obviously can't tell by her reaction and continues to monologue as he brings the baby to nestle back in his arms and stare down at him like he was the most precious thing in the world, "Neytiri named him. It means 'not the end' or something like that. She wanted his name to be a sign of new beginnings after everything we've been through. A sign of new life after war. It's a good name. I like it because it's similar to hers. He looks very much like his mama, don't you, little man?"

He cooed softly to the baby, who made no noise or reaction, still very much asleep. Jake's smile is so contagious, it was hard for Kayla to stop. Jake finally looks away from the child and stares directly at the camera, "I guess I'm a dad now, huh? Not sure whose bright idea was that. Who would've thought? Anyway... I hope you're safe wherever you are, Kay. And I hope, somehow, you know that you're an aunt now. I'll try and make more video logs as Neteyam gets older for you. Okay... Jake and Neteyam Sully, signing off."

She immediately wipes away her tears just as another video pops up. This time, the baby that Jake's holding has more hair and even has eyebrows and more fingers and toes. Jake practically holds the child up to the camera with just one arm, making sure his hand was supporting the back of the neck so Kayla could get a better look at the baby's face.

jake was beaming, proud and joyful, "Hey, Kayla. Meet Kiri. She's technically not mine by blood, but Neytiri and I adopted her. I'm not sure if I've mentioned or if you know about her, but Kiri belongs to my friend, Grace. She... she's unable to care for her, so we decided to step up and love her as our own."

Kayla felt her heart melting at how gentle Jake was for Grace's child. As Kiri begins to fuss, Jake brings his undivided attention to her, whispering softly, "Isn't she beautiful? Hey, baby girl, shh, it's okay. Kiri's name means 'light' I think, but it's also similar to Grace's Na'vi name."

Jake looks back at the camera, smiling and ranting like one would when telling someone their favorite subject in school, "You see, the Na'vi don't have the letter 'G' in their alphabet so they substitute it with a letter that sounds similar. 'Grace' in Na'vi is 'Kìreysì'. 'Same goes for my name. The Na'vi don't have the letter 'J' either. My name is technically Tsyeyk. I guess if you were here, your name might stay the same, I'm not sure. They have all the letters of your name in-- you know what, never mind. Even Kiri looks bored."

Kayla laughs as Jake holds Kiri up to the camera again, "I suppose that's it for now. This is Jake and Kiri Sully, signing off."

The next video is yet again, a different baby. This one also has eyebrows and ten fingers and toes, but it wasn't Kiri. This one's hair was shorter and their limbs were everywhere, unable to stay still in Jake's arms. Jake, on the other hand, was getting a kick out of it, even when the baby kicks his ribcage, "Kayla... this is Lo'ak. He's a feisty one. Neteyam and Kiri are still so little, it's a little odd to have another one already, but it's nice to have them all so close in age. I don't think they understand that they have a little brother now. I tried naming this one instead of Neytiri this time and I don't think it's half bad. So I think lo'a means 'amulet' and Lo'akur means 'Toruk Makto Amulet' which... if you don't already know, I'm also called Toruk Makto. It's a long story."

Jake's smile is soft and yet... sad at the same time, "He's... already so much like me, or at least that's what Neytiri says. It's both exciting and terrifying. Can you imagine? A little mini-me running around? Pandora's gonna have some problems."

Kayla rolls her eyes but in good faith, smiling as Jake holds Lo'ak up to the camera for her to get a better look, "That's all for now. Jake and Lo'ak Sully, signing off."

The video changes again, but this time, the dates are further apart and Jake looks as though he's aged a bit. In his arms is, yet again, another baby, but she's smaller and bears Na'vi traits like Neteyam. Jake's voice is soft while lifting the sleeping baby to the camera, "Tuktirey. Ain't she a cute one? The kids can't pronounce her name right so we just call her Tuk. The closest Lo'ak has gotten is Tuk-Tuk. She came as a surprise. Neytiri and I didn't know if we were gonna have any more rugrats."

Kayla laughs at the reference, immediately silencing herself when Tuk began to cry. For a moment, Kayla thought she had woken the baby before stupidly remembering that this was a video of the past. As Tuk cried, Jake shushed her gently, patting her bottom and holding her in the crook of his neck. He had become more of an expert between video logs. Jake chuckled to himself before looking at the camera, "I guess we'll have to cut this one a little short. This is Jake and Tuk Sully, signing off."

Thinking that would be it as Kayla got to the last of her brother's kids, she stood up to stretch. Turning around to try and relieve the stress in her back, she froze when she heard another video begin to play, "Kayla... I'm sorry."

Whipping back around, Kayla saw Jake, alone, sitting in front of the camera. He's older, yet again, as he rubbed his face tiredly, struggling to get the words out, "I miss you, Kayla. I miss you so much. I wish I could find a way to reach out to you. I wish I had taken you with me. You would've loved it here. I... I just hope that wherever you are, you're safe and you're happy."

Despite her resentment, Kayla's heart breaks seeing her brother like this, broken and regretful. Jake clears his throat, trying to rid it of emotions while his gaze shifts uncomfortably, tail wagging nervously behind him. He was looking around as if afraid he would be caught before whispering, "I'm sorry. I'm so sorry. You deserve better. You deserve a brother like Tommy instead of the asshole you got stuck with. I don't regret leaving Earth. Staying there any longer would have killed me. But leaving you there was my ultimate regret. I failed you as a brother, and watching my boys love their sisters unconditionally is a constant reminder of that. I don't want my boys to end up like me. I want them to be their own person, to stop trying to be like their father who would abandon his sister at the drop of a hat."

He sucks in a sharp breath, the words clearly making an impact on him as his tail and ears lower in distress. Jake had always been one of those people who couldn't cry unless he finally said certain words out loud to make those emotions a reality. As long as he didn't say anything, he wouldn't cry, like when Tommy died. He hadn't said a word during the funeral, but Kayla has expected it from him. He didn't cry when their parents died and he didn't say a word back then, knowing he would.

His breathing is shaky when he tried regaining a bit of composure, looking off to the side instead of directly at Kayla, "I miss you... I wish you were here."

The video ends and it's finally the end of the logs. Kayla checks the date of the last video log and realized it was filmed almost a year before she arrived on Pandora. She was already on the way.

Kayla sighs through her nose, in and out, "I miss you, too."

~~~~~~~~~

Norm never asked what she found on those video logs and Kayla never said. Instead, she got back to work finding Spider. Again, Norm would join her on occasion, but realistically he couldn't as long as she could. Norm had tried finding the link limits between a driver and their avatar but hadn't been as successful as Kayla. She's proven she could go far and beyond with the link, going days without breaking it. Perhaps it stems from whatever soldiers learn during military training. All that discipline tends to stick around for a long time, and perhaps that discipline is why Kayla can resist the urge of jumping between human and avatar. Norm once told her that Jake's record in the neuro-link was sixteen hours straight, to which she scoffed and puffed out her chest, "Amateurs, the lot of ya."

Most of the time, Kayla is flying by herself, her, and Thena, constantly searching for Spider and sometimes not returning home for days at a time. She knew it was suicide to fly anywhere near Bridgehead, so she had to spread her search elsewhere. But knowing Ardmore, she wasn't stupid enough to keep Spider anywhere other than their headquarters.

Kayla would spend countless sleepless nights looking for the kid, and every day she was left disappointed, losing hope little by little. Lost in her haunted thoughts, she nearly falls off of Thena when she suddenly receives a call from her earpiece, shattering the calm, muted winds around her.

"Dirty Falcon to Desert Fox, do you copy?" Norm's call sign rings through and Kayla hurries to answer, pressing her fingers to her throat mic.

"I copy, Dirty Falcon, over."

"Send your air traffic, over."

Kayla takes a glance down at the compass she now had attached to the bottom of her songcord "About twenty clicks west, over."

"Report back ASAP. We got a call coming in from Devil Dog, over."

Her blood runs cold, the very mention of Jake making Kayla worried that something was very, very wrong, "Copy that, Dirty Falcon. I'm Oscar-Mike, over and out."

She turned Thena around so fast the ikran hissed at her with distaste, despite feeling the urgency through their bond. Kayla had commanded her banshee to fly as fast as she could with the promise of large slabs of meat later. And no ikran can say no to a tasty bribe like that. Thena flew as fast as the wind could carry her, and within no time, they returned to High Camp. A horn is blown to warn people of her arrival and to let people know she was a friend and not a foe. Before Thena could properly land, Kayla was already disconnecting tsaheylu and jumping down, her feet landing on the floor of the cave mouth gracefully. Her eyes had not looked anywhere else other than the gunship covered in warpaint being loaded up with what looked to be a lot of medical supplies. Humans and avatars were assisting one another with the task and so Kayla beelined for them, immediately spotting Norm in his avatar.

"What's going on?"

"Kiri had a seizure."

Kayla's heart plummets, "What?!"

"Kiri had a seizure and she hasn't woken up," Norm was in scientist mode, serious and logical as he goes around packing up some last-second supplies, "Jake has asked us to come and help her in case the tsahik of the Metkayina can't do anything."

The Metkayina? This was the first Kayla has heard about any of this. Was this where Jake had taken his family? With nothing else on her mind other than Kiri, Kayla firmly nods her head, "What can I do?"

Max walks up to the towering avatars, face mask on and ready to fly, "I think it would be best if you flew separately on Thena. If the Metkayina village sees a rogue gunship flying toward their home, they might turn us away if Jake's unable to stop them. With an ikran by our side, we'll have a better chance of landing and helping Kiri."

"Okay. Let's go."

A/N: The reason why I named Kayla's ikran Thena is the same reason Kayla named her… because it was the first name that came to me at the top of my head and for some reason, it stuck. It just felt right. singing It's tiiiime to meet the love interestssss!!! Next chapter :) Thank you for the support and for hanging on so long!

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tgmsunmontue · 7 months ago

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More than movie magic... 14/24

Hangster AU. Explicit (eventually). Jake is a Hollywood actor and Bradley is a stunt coordinator. Jake's about to make a few self-discoveries. So is Bradley.

ONE TWO THREE FOUR FIVE SIX SEVEN EIGHT NINE TEN

ELEVEN TWELVE THIRTEEN

CHAPTER FORTEEN

His dad has been left in charge of the slow cooker, which doesn’t involve much and if he forgets then it’s not disastrous. Of course his mom is a little upset that she’s not making anything special for Bradley’s first family dinner but Jake is secretly pleased, because it feels less formal, like it’s just a casual family dinner. Also with it being same-day it means none of his siblings are able to make it, and the rest of his extended family generally won’t come over on a week night, regardless of what new person his mom might want to run the gauntlet.

His stomach won’t stop churning and he can’t believe he’s making Bradley endure dinner with his parents before they even have a proper date. It feels all backwards, but Bradley doesn’t seem to mind at all, and he doesn’t want to wait until it somehow feels normal, can’t wait longer than he already has. He hears the knock on the door and stops both his parents in their tracks to answer it, although they both snort and huff in amusement but he doesn’t care. He doesn’t need them answering the door right now, wants to give Bradley one final chance to back out.

“Hi. Welcome,” Jake says, voice normal level, knowing his mom will be listening in. He drops to a whisper. “You can still decide to turn back and save yourself…”

“It’s dinner, not marriage,” Bradley replies, and he’s taking off his boots, eyes not leaving Jake’s face though and he realizes Bradley has showered and changed, hair damp and curling and he wants to run his hands through it. Maybe he wants Bradley to run away and take Jake with him. Instead Bradley is stepping forward and brushing the softest kiss over his lips and Jake ducks his head to hide his pleased smile. Okay. He’ll put up with a lot if Bradley keeps looking at him like he’s something special.

“My parents are just through here,” Jake says, waving a hand in the general direction of the kitchen, knowing that is where his parents will be waiting. Except Bradley’s eyes have fallen on the living room, and there are family photos everywhere and Jake is

“You have a piano…”

“Oh. Yeah. Do you play?”

“A little.”

Jake bites his lip and decides that his future self can regret his past-self’s life decisions, but right now he really wants to see Bradley’s fingers stretching out and playing. Also because he suspects that Bradley’s idea of playing a little is something akin to Jake saying he acts a little. He’s bound to be insufferably good at it, like he seems to be at everything else, except for seeing the obvious despite it being right in front of him.

“Do you want to play something?” Jake asks, because Bradley is still looking at the piano longingly and he pushes him towards it, knows Bradley playing the piano is only going to make his mom even more thrilled.

“Yeah… do you mind? You have any requests?”

“You said you play a little and yet I get to request a song?”

“Didn’t say it would be any good.”

Jake rolls his eyes, because he’ll be shocked if Bradley isn’t equally competent at playing the piano as he is everything else. He’s already started a tune and after a few seconds he recognizes it, but he also realizes he’s an idiot. He’d forgotten his body’s original visceral reaction to when he’d first watched Bradley nearly two years ago. Using the whip and opening bottles, his fingers on the ropes, his climbing and acrobatic skills… Seeing him ride a couple of days ago and watching him now, his fingers playing effortlessly, body moving with the music. Jake’s getting hard watching him and he doesn’t need to die from embarrassment because of what his mom might say. He’s perfectly capable of managing all by himself.

Of course, that’s the moment his mom decides to appear, the pleased surprise on her face and hearing someone play the piano who isn’t her and he lets out the breath he hadn’t even been aware he’d been holding, because the presence of his mom, the reminder he’s about to sit down to dinner, is enough to ratchet down the building arousal. He’s grateful for small mercies.

“Oh… you play beautifully Bradley. You’re welcome to come and use the piano any time you want. It’s so nice to hear someone playing.”

“Thanks. It’s not often I get the chance. Whose piano is it?”

“Mine, although all my children play. Do you not have a piano at home?”

“Depends where I’m calling home. I have access to a few pianos, but only a keyboard in my apartment. It’s not quite the same.”

“No, it’s really not,” his mom says, and she’s now asking if he took lessons and Jake wonders how much more she knows about Bradley simply because she’s had two weeks to ask all the questions she wants and assuage her curiosity ten times over. God. No wonder Bradley isn’t worried about having dinner with her.

They sit down to dinner, and he expects his mom to interrogate Bradley. Expects to spend the entire time red-faced with embarrassment. Instead it’s a really pleasant, although he does spend most of it tense with nerves, sure that his mom is going to say something absolutely mortifying. She just keeps up a friendly flow of conversation and doesn’t bring up anything that might even embarrass him a little. He doesn’t trust her at all. His dad is having a good day, gentle humor and quiet observations making Bradley laugh. Jake knows he doesn’t need to worry about his dad liking him, can already see the quiet approval in the way he talks with Bradley.

Bradley offers to do the washing up, and Jake isn’t surprised when his mom agrees, telling them they can both do it and it’s the fact that she’s not treating Bradley like a guest which makes him feel a little less tense. She’s treating him like family, pairing him with Jake already and accepting his offer of help despite it going against every hospital bone in her body. She squeezes his arm as she passes, gives him a little smile and he can’t help but smile back, pleased and a lot relieved that she’s not making this into a bigger deal than it already feels like.

“For all your dramatic that was nowhere near as bad as I was expecting,” Bradley says, and he’s looking at Jake with the same soft smile he greeted Jake with when he arrived and he gives in to the urge to lean forward and kiss him.

“I’m an actor, I’m allowed to be dramatic. Literally in my job description.”

Bradley grins, kisses him and then shoves a soapy wet plate in his general direction, making his shirt wet and Jake pulls a face but Bradley is laughing and Jake can’t help the sheer amount of joy and excitement popping inside him like little kernels of popping corn.

… … …

Bradley’s cheeks hurt from laughing so much. He knew Jake wasn’t going to get off lightly, that his mom probably had something planned, but when she’d returned to the kitchen carrying multiple photo albums he’d not been able to do anything but laugh at the expression on Jake’s face; a mix between annoyance and embarrassment. He hadn’t been able to help himself, wrapped his arms around Jake from behind, chin resting on his shoulder so he could whisper into his ear you’ll get to see mine, Pete has an embarrassing amount. He’d felt Jake relax at his words and he’d felt relieved that Jake still seemed to want that.

He’s seen photos of every single family member, trying to memorize them all, despite Jake, Kaye and Bill all telling him not to even try. He’ll also apparently get to meet most of them, if not all of them, in the coming weeks. He’s pretty sure having Aunty Kaye and Bill on his side will make the rest all fall into place, he’s not worried at all. Jake’s parents have gone to bed, his mom making a comment about not staying up too late, which had made Jake roll his eyes and blush, muttering under his breath about unholy terrors. Bradley has to admit that he really likes the fact that Jake seems so close with all his family.

Now it’s time for him to go though, he’s definitely not staying, that’s past the level of familiarity even for him and he’s glad Jake doesn’t seem to expect him to. He pats his pockets, looking for his phone, eyes scanning the flat surfaces around, because he knows he took it out and put it somewhere, but he can’t remember where exactly.

“You okay?”

“Yeah, just put my phone down somewhere and can’t remember where.”

“Oh, let me ring it.”

Bradley opens his mouth to give him the number but Jake isn’t looking at him, is simply opening his phone and thumbing through and then he can hear his phone ringing but he’s far more focused on Jake.

“How long have you had my number?”

Jake freezes, looking caught out and Bradley can’t help the little spike of increased arousal. This gorgeous looking man has his phone number and has maybe had it for a long time. Maybe since they last worked together. Of all the things he’s come to comprehend in the last day or so, the realization that maybe Jake has been looking and wanting for a while, maybe even longer than he has, makes him feel more settled in his own feelings. He’s not alone in this, even if he didn’t think he was, this is pretty good confirmation. God. He really was missing the obvious. Natasha and Bob are never going to let him live this down.

FIFTEEN

#Hangster #Sereshaw #more than movie magic #Top Gun Maverick

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fancyfeathers · 1 year ago

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Society of Protection (Yandere Bungo Stray Dogs x reader x original characters) (normalized yandere au)

Chapter Thirteen

The Phantom of the Opera

Prologue and oc intro

Chapter one

Chapter two

Chapter three

Chapter four

Chapter five

Chapter six

Chapter seven, part one

Chapter seven, part two

Chapter eight

Chapter nine

Chapter ten

Chapter eleven

Chapter twelve

You awoke by the sound of footsteps, still in the room Fyodor placed you and Gaston in. You looked over to see the door being unlocked and the familiar figure of Fyodor entering the room. He looks over at the two of you with a soft smile, unfitting for a man like him. “Seems like my ангелы, are getting the rest they need.”

He approached you and Gaston, curled up next to one another. He sat down on the edge of the bed, he reached up and brushed the hair out of your face, the leather of his gloves cold against your skin before it trailed up and ran over Gaston’s closed eyelids. “So beautiful. Sleep is almost the pinnacle of peace, our bodies unbothered by the outside world, unmoved, relaxed.”

He offered his hand to you, offering it to help you sit up. Against your better judgment you took it and he pulled you to sit up on the edge on the edge of the bed with him. “Why do you do all of this? What do you want from me?”

“Oh my love…” He smiled and leaned over, taking your hand he still held and pressing it against his cheek which was also cold. “You were once so pure, both of you, so pure. I will fix you, bring you back to the light after you’ve wandered in darkness.”

“Both of us?”

“Hm… I suppose Gaston has not told you about his entire past, has he?” Fyodor asked, glancing over at the sleeping composer.

“I know he is a composer for the Paris Opera House and that he was assigned by the European Union to hunt you down three years ago.” You answered, trying to think about what Gaston had told you about his past, not much at all. “I think he’s from a town called Perros-Guirec or at least his father is buried there.”

“Hm…” he hummed in thought and letting your hand go and land on your own lap. “That’s not untrue, but not the entire truth, my мышь. It’s not my place to tell you, but I do hope he tells you in due time.”

Before you could push him any farther on it you felt a shift on the bed behind you as Gaston awoke. Fyodor reached out and grabbed Gaston’s glasses from the nightstand, handing them to him. Gaston grabbed them from the Russian, slipping them on without even making eye contact with either of you. You two watched as Fyodor stood from the bed, adjusting his coat. “Come along now, it is time we watch Yokohama rot away.”

Fyodor made his way to the door, both you and Gaston following behind. As you walked into the hall your eyes never broke from the back of Fyodor’s head. Then you felt Gaston slip something into your hand, you looked down to see a fruit knife. You looked to Gaston and he held his pointer finger to his lips as if to tell you to tell you to be quiet and hide it. So you managed to slip it in the back of your skirt. Now you could only pray that would be enough to defend yourself if need be.

—————————

Victor stepped into a large room, he was escorted by two government agents, one on either side. He looked around the room, his hands fiddling with the necklace he wore. This was the headquarters of the Special Division for Unusual Powers, Victor had been called by a contact of the Society and told to come here with urgency. Victor had no idea who this contact was but if they were able to get ahold of them then Dr. Stevenson or Miss Jane must have trusted them.

“You must be, Victor Hugo.” Victor jumped at the voice, startled he turned to see who called him. There stood a man, black hair, black suit, a beauty mark above his lip, and round glasses. “Well?”

“Y-yes, I-I am…” Victor stuttered out, clearly nervous. “B-but, I-I’m not.. the… um…”

“Original? I know. I read your file, I apologize for the loss of your brother.” He said, still no emotion coming on his face. “I understand your parents renamed you to basically be him after he died in the war, and I also heard your colleague William Shakespeare worked under him in the war as a child spy.”

“Y-yes… that’s correct…” Victor didn’t like talking about his brother. With his passing, Victor’s parents forced a false identity onto him, he went from being the unloved child to a filler for their dead child. Victor shook away that thought. “E-excuse me, you called me h-here but I’m afraid I have no idea who you are, is this about that fog o-overtaking Yokohama? C-cause I-I have no idea about that.”

“I know. To put introductions aside, I am assistant counselor of the Special Division for Unusual Powers, Ango Sakaguchi.” He introduced himself, so calm and collected unlike Victor who was a stuttering mess. “We have called you here to help deal with this fog incident, you and one other.”

“One other?”

At that time the door literally swung off his henges and crashed to the ground with a heavy clatter causing Victor to let out a high pitched squeak.

“Ability user, 5158.” Ango said, stepping in front of Victor. There stood a man, red hair, black suit, and a black hat. “Chuuya Nakahara, executive of the Port Mafia.”

Victor’s expression slowly turned to one of shock and fear. “You want me to work with the Port Mafia!?”

—————————

Fyodor lead you to a hall where you could hear distant talking and figures, two, sitting at a table, but you couldn’t quite make out what they were saying or who they were, must be the drugs in your system, but apparently Fyodor could.

“To me, both of your intentions are obvious.” Fyodor spoke as the two figures at the table came into focus, a man you have never seen with long white hair and dressed in white, and the all to familiar smug face of Osamu Dazai. Gaston scowled at the sight of Dazai. Fyodor only chuckled and continued.“With such lies you’ll never write a good play, you’ve lost your audience too.”

“The demon, Fyodor. You to will dance as my collaborator.” The white haired man turned to look at the three of you. “These must be your angel and mouse as you call them in Russian.”

That made you want to throw up but before anyone could speak, Dazai chuckled and spoke up. “Collaborator? Don’t you think he has the highest chance of betraying you?”

You and Gaston watched from the edge of the room, standing against a pillar next to a window that looked out over the fog covered Yokohama. His eyes were fixed on the three sitting at the table, his face scrunched, trying to figure out what exactly they were planning.

“No one has ever exceeded my predictions thus far. I have high hopes for you.” The white haired man said with a shrug.

“What I feel most is sorry for this city of ability users, no matter which of us prevails they will all die.” Your eyes widened in horror when Fyodor said this. Your entire life was about to crumble before your eyes.

That is when Gaston leaned over to you and whispered. “That’s Shibusawa, I think I have an idea now about what’s this is all about, I’ll explain it to you when we’re alone, for now-“

“ангел музыки, it’s rude to whisper. (Name), Come here.” Fyodor said, cutting Gaston off. He did not look over at you but waved you over with his finger. You hesitantly stepped forward, your heels clicking again the marble floor the only sound in the room. Fyodor patted the arm of his chair, silently tellingly you to sit down and so you did. “Care to tell us what you and Gaston were talking about?”

This wasn’t a question but it was a demand. You couldn’t tell him otherwise he wouldn’t leave you and Gaston alone. “He… he was telling me about….” You thought back of Fyodor’s words from when you entered the room. “How you all, including you Fyodor, would never write a good play for you don’t possess the craftsmanship and charm of an artist.“

Fyodor’s eyes narrowed at you, he knew you were lying but had no other ground to go off of here so he grabbed your chin, harsher than he had before. “If I found out you were lying to me, мышь. It won’t be very pretty.” He let go of your chin and kissed your cheek. “That’s all.”

You slipped off the armrest and turned and started walking back towards Gaston and collapsed in his arms and the two of sunk to the floor, sitting down like pets, sitting at the feet of their owners. The three of them talked while Gaston held you and you silently cried in his arms…

Now you know why Dazai called you Snow White all that time ago.

—————————

Fyodor allowed you to return to your room while they discussed more sensitive topics, not meant for your ears. Once the door clicked shut, locked, and footsteps began walking back where they came from, Gaston took off his glasses and pinched his nose in slight annoyance.

“Why did you say that? If he finds out who knows what he’ll do!” Gaston reprimanded you as you sat on the bed.

“I-I don’t know, I didn’t want him to know I guess, he wouldn’t leave us alone together if he did.”

“He probably already knows we’re planning something, just not what.” Gaston came and sat down next to you on the bed, putting his glasses back on. “I think I have an idea what is happening. We don’t have our abilities and in this fog gifted died via their own abilities. Shibusawa’s ability is behind this so he’s unaffected, Dazai’s ability nullifies any other abilities so he’s immune, I can’t place Fyodor but it’s probably something out in our best interest. As for us and everyone in Yokohama, our abilities have left us and it would be a good guess that they’re going to try to kill us.”

Your eyes widened in horror as he spoke. “Our abilities are hunting us down?”

“Yes, I believe so.” He nodded, his head turned to you. “Your ability only has mental capabilities but mine could be quite deadly, pass through walls, materialize at will.”

As he spoke you saw a red figure pass through the walls, no features besides eyes and a red jewel on its forehead… oh shit.

“Gaston look out!” You screamed as Gaston’s ability wrapped its hands around his throat, pushing him against the wall. Gaston’s glasses were knocked to the floor and he was gasping for breath as his ability tried to break his wind pipe. You stood there completely in shock, not knowing what to do, but if you didn’t do something Gaston would die. You reached out and tied to grab the ability but it disappeared, dropping Gaston to the ground who was gasping for breath. You rushed forward but before you could reach him, his ability materialized again, getting Gaston in a chokehold from behind.

Then you remembered…

The knife…

This is why he gave it to you…

Just as Gaston was slipping into unconscious you pulled out the knife, you grabbed the ability yourself and stabbed it in the head, shattering the red gem on its forehead. The ability disappeared into thin air, leaving you alone with Gaston who was gasping for breath.

“That… was your ability…”

“Y-yes.” Gaston spoke while he tried to breathe. “T-the… Phantom of… the O-opera. Deadly if used correctly.”

You helped Gaston back on the bed again, laying him down as he caught his breath. “If I destroyed your ability does that mean you have your ability again?”

Gaston reached out to the wall and his hand passed right through. He turned to you with a weak smile. “We have one up on Fyodor. The Phantom of the Opera is here, inside my mind, where he belongs.”

#yandere bungo stray dogs x reader #yandere bungou stray dogs #yandere bsd #original character x reader #bungou stray dogs oc #bungou stray dogs #bungou stray dogs x reader #yandere dazai #yandere chuuya #yandere mark twain #yandere mori ougai #yandere Fukuzawa #Yandere Edgar Allan Poe #Yandere John Steinbeck #yandere fyodor

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peachetteprice · 5 months ago

Text

27 Hawthorn Court | Simon "Ghost" Riley

Chapter 1 - Butterfly Wings

Chapter Summary:

Ruth is dragged into the case.

It isn't to prove her merit; she has no merit to prove for them, not after eleven years of employment, complacent in her value with the GMP. It isn't for ego, intel, or even to further the investigation - they don't care for that.

It's to save face, for whatever their dying face is worth.

2.6K Words

Click here for story summary

Truth be told, it was a dull day in early September; globules of rain clung to the air and the last place Ruth Wyatt wanted to be was at the station in Newton Heath, conducting a sensitive investigation into the (recently executed) family of the man behind a crude skull mask that he'd pinched from the Halloween aisle of Sainsbury's.

"Damage control?" Were her first set of words, mumbled partially to herself as she took the seat furthest from him. He was a hulking man, possessing the sort of colonising shadow that could block the sun until early spring; it was a facet of his unique stature that wasn't entirely inviting.

Hence, she wished to be as far away from it as possible.

That, and he was the GMPs prime suspect in a four-victim serial murder within urban Greater Manchester; the city that never slept - unfortunately not in the romantic sense - especially not from incessant crime. It was a city of lowlife beggars and grime; streets ran rife with druggies, knife assault and underage sex. It wasn't by any stretch if the imagination that Ruth thought the man might have leapt across the table and strangled her with his bare hands - they were gloved, actually, after further inspection.

Sure, it was a desecrating evaluation of a stranger and the city they called home, but that was her opinion of it, honest as it was, from a PC with more than a decade of experience. It was difficult not to become tainted by a lack of faith, even if the residents of Manchester shouldn't have been faulted for their propriety.

"Scuse me?" He spoke, swiftly calling back to her opening remark.

She hardly remembered that she'd said anything at all, through the mind fog, until he'd piped up. His mask didn't budge with a single word, leading Ruth to believe that it had been spoken from beyond the grave, how fitting for his persona.

"The mask." She noted, splaying a dozen files across the table, some of them non-descript retributions of the crime scene. He could have taken a look if he wanted to, and she mightn't have stopped him. From his file, it seemed he'd seen enough violence for the world's population twice over. "I saw it at the shops a few weeks ago... just wondered why you'd wear it if--" well, she thought she'd continue; he looked like a man who could take it, "--if your family is dead already. Why hide your face now and not before? Unless it's for damage control, which I'd argue is a bit moot now."

"Is that a serious fuckin' question?" He gruffed, finally allowing for a sliver of fabric accommodate for his pointed diction. Okay, so, not from beyond the grave, she'd cleverly sussed.

"Maybe." She shrugged, pulling one of the files from the array. "I don't know. Just... airing my thoughts."

Ruth wasn't lucid. Thirteen hours straight on the job without a lick of scran would have done it, easy. The call came in at seven - four victims shot dead in a council flat, a possible civilian terrorist attack, her chief thought; one of them was a four-year old boy with his eyes hanging thread-like from their sockets due to the sheer force of the bullet - and she'd been pulled directly from patrol, motored by a Lucozade and a couple of polo mints: a less-than-ideal start to a multi-hour interrogation.

"This is an interrogation, innit?"

Maybe he could read minds. She'd just thought that; yes.

"Right." A clear cough set her back on track. "Your mother, Sarah Riley, your younger brother Tommy Riley, your sister-in-law Beth Riley, and your nephew Joseph Riley were all found dead upon arrival at 27 Hawthorn Court in Rochdale."

"Ah," a deep, guttural sigh left his throat, "I see why they put you in charge, now. Real detective work, Ruth. Even figured out their first names. Anythin' else strike you as interestin' from those files, or are they just for show?"

Christ, he wasn't to be thrown around.

Sure, Ruth had met more than her fair share of violent people, particularly on her weekly patrol in the gay village, whenever an inter-sexuality brawl kicked off - usually some rowdy butch lesbians spitting vitriol at each other over a particularly gorgeous woman, that was how it went over there - but this man was nothing of the sort. He wasn't aggressive, nor verbally abusive, nor particularly scathing in tone or language, but the atmosphere that surrounded him was uniquely suffocating.

It put her on edge.

It unnerved her.

He unnerved her.

"You've been speaking with the room guard, have ya?" Her head tilted, if only to distort those piercing eyes of his, so that they might not be so... forward. "You know my name. Ruth."

"You know mine. S'only fair, innit?"

She sniffled, palm sliding up and down her face; she didn't care how uncivilised she looked rubbing her nostrils against her hand like a toddler, because, God, that Lucozade and those polo mints were not sitting right; perhaps they'd mingled to induce some sort of rising chemical foam in her stomach like Pepsi and Mentos. "Simon... 'Ghost ' Riley, is that right? There's no--" She flipped the file over.

Redacted information, on top of redacted information, plus no bloody photo. The information she had been given, a date of birth and a name, were entirely useless. Perhaps, if she'd had one look at his file before walking into the interrogation room, it mightn't have been such a revelation that she had nothing to work with. She might have even asked her chief for the un-redacted versions of them all, who - being a rather burly, pig-faced, heavier-set woman with a penchant for becoming easily vexed, not unlike burly, pig-faced, heavier-set women - would have imploded with rage at even the whiff of her insolent suggestion.

But one could hardly be expected to work like that.

On paper, he was a stranger. In person, rightly so, a ghost.

"--There's no picture--"

"--Never." He noted plainly, as if the very fact wasn't bulbous tears to spilled milk for a detective (that is to say, something to cry over), though, on second thought - coming from a man with a fabric skull on his face - it might not have been.

"It says here that you're... a Lieutenant with the SAS. Mind tellin' me a bit about that?"

"Classified, pretty much." He sighed, fingertips drumming restlessly on the table.

Great; she'd even bored the life out of the dead, now. Was there anything she couldn't do?

"Is there anythin' you can tell me that isn't redacted in these files? Help me, Simon, 'cause I'm fuckin' lost." A disgruntled laugh left her throat, pervasively exhausted from the day's trials.

"Help you?" A dry laugh left his throat, this time, and she could've sworn she'd seen something like the current moment in her nightmares the previous day, unless she'd dozed off watching Scream again, "bloody useless, y' are."

"Yeah." It should have been unlike her to agree, but she couldn't help it. Thirteen hours of no rest, minimal food - again, Lucozade and polo mints - and no hope did that, easy. "Yeah- I am bloody useless. I'm working with nearly entirely blacked-out files, a case with such gruesome details I haven't seen the likes of since... fuckin'... I don't even know when, and I'm seriously considerin' handing my two weeks in, because this bloody city is driving me insane." She drove the heel of her palms into her eye sockets, trying to gouge the image of that little boy's dead gaze from her brain. The mother, the son, the son's wife; as macabre as it felt and sounded, as the only rational thought in her brain, they were nothing compared to that boy.

He'd reminded her of her own boy, in fact.

Ruth's own boy - George; shorter-than-average and babblingly talkative at the worst of times - rest assured, was probably busy wiling his time away with a crayon tucked in his palm, apple carton in tow as he put pencil to paper, scribbling to pass the time until mummy picked him up from the childminder's house. The childminder, on the other hand, was likely pacing up and down the kitchen in her modest pajamas, wondering when Ruth would arrive to collect the boy who thought her as more motherly than she'd ever been.

But, here she was, son-less at eight in the evening, thinking of someone else's son in an interrogation room, miles away from her own, sincerely detached from the attention that called upon her judicious mind.

"What..." She huffed, attempting to claw back some of her waning professionalism, for the sake - if only - of that little boy. "What did you think when you saw the case photos? Have you seen them at all, Lieutenant - Ghost - Simon? What the fuck d'you wanna be called?"

"Ghost'll do."

"Ghost." She nodded. "Thoughts?"

"Bigger than I remember." He shrugged; it was odd shrug. Entirely lopsided, it preferred his left shoulder, and at the same time it occurred, his left eyelid squinted. It was sort of stroke-like in appearance. Jilted, she thought it. Entirely peculiar.

"What was?"

"Nephew." His gaze fell upon the door. He was already facing that way, anyway, parallel to the length of the table, keeled away from the conversation entirely. Perhaps it was his version of remorse. Maybe he did it, then. Shot them. Hung the youngest from the extractor fan for the sheer stun of it all. Blew his eyes out of his sockets. "Saw him as a baby. Little thing..."

"Not one for full sentences, Ghost?" She'd muttered - rather absent-mindedly - again, partially to herself, though (admittedly) partially to him this time.

"Shut ya' fuckin' mouth, respectively, detective." He spat. "Do your job, I beg ya."

"Temperament, much..." She whispered, levying a heavy sigh, before her attention dipped back to the case files. "Odd that you happened to come back from... redacted... of-fuckin-course... the day prior to four members of your close family bein' brutally murdered."

"Oh, now we're gettin' somewhere." He mused. "Might actually be decent at your job. Shock o' my fuckin' life."

"Thanks." Ruth took the sentiment, however sarcastic, because she needed the bloody sentiment. If it wasn't coming from herself, or her burly, pig-faced, heavier-set boss, or her colleagues, or that bastard of a man at home who didn't have the decency to show up on a Thursday for his own son (despite the numerous reminders she'd pinned to the fridge and sent to his phone the Wednesday beforehand) she might as well have taken it from a snarky mask-wearing prick with little self-awareness of how idiotic he truly looked.

If only she'd said the quiet part aloud.

"Mind if I have a smoke?" The man snuggled his hand in his pocket for, what Ruth thought, a lighter. He brought out a matchbox and a cigarette, and Ruth, rightfully so, thought it unusual. With a swift strike of the match-head against the corrugated side, though - the cigarette now cautiously perched between his lips through the pinched fabric of the mask - he let the two meet, then snuffed the matchstick with his fingertips.

"I didn't say you could have a smoke." Ruth frowned.

"Well, you took your fuckin' time, love. Too late." He took a long drag, 'willing the way', so to speak, ensuring that enough smoke permeated through the mask to be brought into his lungs and expelled back out again, in a plume of whispering ash that Ruth could only think was half as comfortable as shoving one's head into a tanker of ice-cold water.

"There are fire alarms in here." She noted, though she more cared for the latter. "And those should have been taken away from you before this interrogation began."

"It'll dissipate." The man sniffled, wafting his hand dismissively at the smoke, which only spread it further around the room. Ruth could smell it, now, sinking into every fabric of her being, replacing the damp smell from the mould on the windowsills that had been activated by the day's rain.

"Can I ask what you were doin' the day that you arrived back in England?"

"Havin' a pint and a glass o' Whiskey," he gruffed, chest heaving with every breath that wasn't spent sucking the life from his cigarette. "Playing darts in a Wetherspoons."

"Which Wetherspoons?"

"Dingy one in Manchester, innit..."

Ruth grimaced. "Which dingy one in Manchester-"

"Can't fuckin' look at a map, can ya? The one in Chorlton-cum-Hardy. Sedge somethin', or whatever the fuck it's called."

"The Sedge Lynn." She hushed the headache slowly creeping behind her eyes in the hopes that she could stave it until the end of the interrogation, like a stalking tiger she could turn her back away from until it lost the courage to pounce. "There's an awful lot of foot traffic there. A man like you would stand out, wearing that... thing."

"Wasn't wearin' it then." He seethed another few breaths through the cigarette through the mask. "Didn't need to."

"Thought the crowds would give you cover?"

"Fuckin' naturally," he hissed. "Turned out great, dinn'it?"

A brief pause in conversation allowed Ruth to thumb over the files once more. There was no purpose to it, of course, because there was nothing more within them that she could gleam, that she couldn't also ask from the man himself. "And where did you go after the Wetherspoons?"

"Home." He growled, having exhausted the finer part of his cigarette that, now, he stretched for another one.

Only, Ruth stopped him this time, warning him again about the fire alarms in the far right corner near the peeling wallpaper (it was really a shoddy butterscotch, once white, sort of crumbling wallpaper that they had installed only because of the sheer number of suspects they'd caught smoking in the first place) - and, after some consideration, which she wasn't sure happened because of her demand at all - he begrudgingly shoved the box (both, of the cigarettes and the matchsticks) back into his cocooning jean pocket.

It was a hotel, it turned out. What he had deemed 'home' was really some bland, vaguely bed-bug ridden Premier Inn close enough to the Wetherspoons to be considered 'walkable' from every pub within a three-to-five mile radius. No taxi, he'd explained, he had fucking legs. Sure enough, when she'd checked up on it after the fact - not about whether his legs were capable - he'd checked in at eleven-thirty and left at five-in-the-morning the following day. And, after some meandering conversation - making do with the meagre, though immediate, information at her fingertips - they closed in on the end of their mutual interrogation.

But something still wasn't right.

It wouldn't have been, not with that tank of a man, asking more questions than a suspect really should be at liberty to ask, staring her down like she were a piece of meat he needed to pick from between his teeth.

Ruth thought it pessimistic, to consider such a well-decorated lieutenant the culprit of a whole-family murder. His own family, no doubt. His own blood. But she'd seen it before, it was the most common career change for a battered and bruised mercenary of war - the nightmares made it impossible to escape, even during the closest state to death, in the safety of their own homes, and there was nowhere else it could ferment but in their brutish hands after one too many pints and a serious flashback - and she couldn't shake the feeling that his finger was in the pot; stirring, melting, confiding in the lenient bounds of an overworked police station and a dozen higher ups begging for his immediate release. That she was somehow a chess piece in his game, and not him in hers, as she'd suspected.

By the end of the interrogation, she was desperate. Desperate enough to snatch one of the files and hold the black ink towards the dim light. It had been manually redacted, she'd noticed after a dribble of his water - water that he'd requested but didn't drink a sip of regardless - had sloshed and bled the corner as she passed it to him. The light was only revealing what was once there, available for an inquisitive eye; it was something akin to a garbled mess of letters (surely in the English alphabet and not some court typographer's hieroglyphics, Ruth prayed) but otherwise unintelligible without further inspection.

Ghost had let it go on for too long by the time he'd thought to say anything about it.

"Oi. That's a federal crime, detective."

"There was some dust on the page," she gave it a flap, settling it back with the pile with a dissuaded smile, "just gettin' it off..."

"Are we done, then?" The man leant back into the chair, legs spread Eagle to accommodate for the expanse of artillery around his thighs and chest. At that angle, he resembled more of a juggernaut than a man.

So, it still unnerved her - more than the baritone gravel at the base of his throat, and certainly more than that childish mask covering the upper half of his face (though not so childish, was his gaze beneath it) - the sheer size of him.

"We're done, for now," she said with a grovelling cough, eyes squarely inspecting the bulk of fabric that had collected at his crotch (now, understanding her own infallibility from curiosity like any other woman, without great shame), mumbling, "the station might call you back in any number of days-"

"Fuckin' great," he growled as he lifted himself from the seat. It had been aching his bum like a touch-starved man in a prison cell.

Masterlist | Next Chapter

There was nothing more the Lieutenant craved than a tight stretch - shoulders crackling and flexing from the agony of being sat in a chair that was too slight for his oversized person - a smoke and a heavy glass of Whiskey; Scotch, preferably, though by the end of the interrogation, he would have even settled for Bourbon just for the sting of something, anything, to quench the sound of her tinny voice squeaking detail after detail he didn't care to hear.

#call of duty #simon ghost riley #simon ghost riley x reader #simon ghost riley x you #simon ghost riley fanfiction #call of duty fanfiction #ghost x reader #ghost x you #call of duty fanfic #simon riley #cod fanfic #callofduty #call of duty modern warfare

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aylacavebear · 10 months ago

Text

She Thought She was Normal

Time for a little reveal, but only a little...

Story Summary: Maria really thought she was normal, for most of her life. It was normal for people to have natural talent, she would tell herself the older she got. Many things came easy for her, and that was probably how their rivalry began when she was five and he was seven and she met the Winchesters. Little did either of them know that it wouldn't stay like that forever, both having a far larger destiny than they could imagine

Word Count: 3449

Please don't take my work. I'll post warnings for each chapter. Will eventually be 18+!

Warnings: Childhood Rivalry

----------------------------------------- Chapter 5

Over the next four years, she only briefly saw the Winchesters a handful of times, none of them long enough for any sort of challenge Dean could come up with. Although, she and her father visited her Uncle at least once a year, staying a few days each time.

William still hadn’t let her go out on a hunt on her own yet but he did let her start coming with him to help when she turned thirteen. He had picked something easy for her to cut her teeth on, a simple salt & burn. She’d quickly put together the pieces of the case within only a few hours, managing to save a woman’s life in the process. By the time she was fourteen, she was going with him on all his cases, not just doing the research at whatever motel they happened to be staying in.

“Hey Uncle Bobby,” she said as he greeted them in the driveway one cold November morning.

“You’ve grown munchkin,” he chuckled.

“Tends to happen after four years,” she replied, smirking a little.

Bobby glanced over at William, who just smiled and shook his head a bit, “Your room is still how you left it from the last visit,” he told her.

“God, those cat posters aren’t still hanging up are they,” she asked, groaning slightly.

“I didn’t change anything, if that’s what you’re askin',” he chuckled.

She just shook her head as she went inside. Her Uncle’s house hadn’t changed any, except for the size of the stacks of books, which had grown since her last visit, almost a year ago now. Maria set her bags down on her bed and looked around her room with her hands on her hips.

“God, I was such a kid,” she mumbled before she began taking down old posters from her childhood.

Maria redid her room, then took a step back, looking satisfied with the outcome. At least it didn’t look like a ten-year-old’s room now. She unpacked her things, knowing they were staying for a week, at minimum. In the middle of setting up her desk with her books, she heard the purr of the Impala outside. She looked toward her closed door, raising an eyebrow. It’d been almost a year and a half since she’d seen them last, slightly curious how they had changed or if Dean was still annoying. She shrugged her shoulders though and went back to setting up her desk. Her father had said she didn’t have to do any lessons today, due to how long they’d been on the road, but she liked her routine and learning. She slipped her blue flannel on, leaving it unbuttoned over her t-shirt to keep her arms warm, finding her Uncle’s a little more chilly than she remembered.

“SIS!!” Sammy yelled as he rounded the corner and barreled into her room, nearly tackling her in a hug.

She laughed hard as she wrapped him up in a hug, then spun him around, “Little brother, I missed you,” she told him happily before she set him back down, ruffling up his hair.

“Stop,” he giggled, pushing her hand away, “How long are you staying?”

“Probably a week. What about you?” she asked, smiling down at him. He was still shorter than she was by a few inches.

“Don’t know. Dad didn’t say,” he replied.

Her smile quickly faded as she turned around and looked in her doorway, almost glaring at him, “Dean,” she said flatly.

“Maria,” he replied, leaning on her doorframe, arms crossed.

“Why do you two act like you hate each other?” Sammy asked, looking between the two of them.

Neither of them spoke, but Dean smirked before he pushed off the wall and went back into the living room. Once he was gone, she looked back over at Sammy and sighed, “I don’t hate him, Sammy. I just think he’s annoying,” she tried to explain.

“Why?” he asked her, tilting his head a bit.

“It’s hard to explain,” she sighed, sitting down on the edge of her bed.

“Can you try?” he asked, still curious.

She glanced up at him, “He always wants to beat me, at everything. I mean, we could work together. He’s really good at a lot of stuff, but…” she trailed off, glancing at her doorway before she continued, “... he thinks girls shouldn’t hunt cause boys are better at it.”

“Is that why he keeps challenging you?” his curiosity getting the better of him.

“You’ve got a lot of questions this time,” she chuckled as she looked into his adorable eyes.

“Sorry sis, curious, that’s all,” he giggled.

“It’s good to be curious, that’s how you learn things. I guess he’s mad, cause I’m a girl and I keep beating him, no matter what he comes up with. It’s not like I’m gonna let him win, then he wouldn’t learn anything. A monster won’t let you win when you go against one, so I won’t just let Dean win either,” she explained, knowing he was old enough now to understand.

“That makes a lot of sense,” Sammy replied as her words sunk in, “So… in a way… you’re helping him get better at hunting,” he concluded.

She chuckled a little, Sammy really was adorable, “Yup, just like my dad taught me.”

The two of them headed back out, Maria went right to the kitchen, looking through what her Uncle had available in the way of food. Thanksgiving was only a few days away and she noticed he’d stocked up on several things for it, making her smile. She grabbed out two packages of chicken, setting them on the counter to defrost for dinner. Then she headed to the cabinets, looking for ingredients for gravy. Again, she smiled to herself and shook her head a bit in disbelief seeing what he’d stocked up on before she headed into the living room.

“You’re the best Uncle Bobby,” she said happily.

“What am I? Chop liver?” her father asked, being playful.

She rolled her eyes playfully, “Maybe I should have said he was the best Uncle then,” she replied, in a bit of a smartass way.

Bobby raised an eyebrow, glancing over at William, “She got mouthy huh?”

William laughed, “This is nothing, but she knows where the line is.”

Dean rolled his eyes and went outside, wanting nothing to do with her. He was sixteen now and all hormones but all he saw when he looked at her was that annoying five-year-old that had beat him in a challenge of throwing a rock at a target almost ten years ago. He didn’t want to be at Bobby’s for a week because she was there.

“What’s up with Dean?” William asked John after Dean had gone outside.

“He’s sixteen and according to Sammy, Maria is his rival, since they were five. He’s mad he can’t beat her at anything,” John chuckled.

William glanced at his daughter before he looked back at John, “She won’t let him win John.”

“I know,” he said plainly, “I hope she never does. It’ll teach him to get better. Hone his skills.”

William thought about what John said and sighed, “You’ve got a point there.”

“I pulled out dinner,” Maria interjected, as respectfully as she could, as it had been one of the reasons she’d gone into the living room.

“Oh? Whatcha cookin this time?” Bobby asked her, leaning back in his chair.

“Chicken with mashed potatoes, homemade gravy, and probably corn, and thank you, for having all the ingredients already,” she replied, smiling.

“Well, what kind of Uncle would I be if I didn’t keep those things on hand, knowing you’d be coming by?” he asked her.

She knew he was being playful, but she also had those teenage hormones going through her as well, they just came out differently, “Probably the worst uncle ever,” she replied, quite the smartmouth.

Sammy was shocked by what she’d said but didn’t say a word, the adults just chuckled, “Mouth,” her father said, somewhat sternly.

“Sorry, Pappa, and I’m sorry Uncle Bobby,” she said quietly, realizing her mouth had run away again, “I’m gonna go work on my lessons.”

“Get something to eat first,” her father told her, to which she nodded.

She cursed at herself in her head as she made herself a sandwich before taking it to her room to eat. It was her biggest issue, her mouth, and some of the things that came out of it. Maria didn’t have emotional issues or confidence issues. Well, she hadn’t had them before. This visit was going to change that for her in ways she wouldn’t fully understand until she was much older. She had a mouth on her, even if she didn’t cuss, not yet anyway. William had pondered a lot on how Alarra would have handled it, although, he couldn’t think of a way other than reminding her when it happened. Maria read one of her books on lore while she ate her sandwich, not wanting to interact with the adults at the moment. Since she had hit thirteen, she wanted more and more alone time, even away from her father.

“Have any more of her powers surfaced?” Bobby asked William quietly since Sammy had headed outside to wherever his brother had gone.

“No, but she’s perfected the few she does have, so heads up on that,” William warned them.

“So, no sneaking up on her then?” John asked.

“Nope. She knows when you get about fifteen feet away now,” William explained.

“Dean’s not gonna like that one,” John chuckled.

“Is it a hearing thing or can she just sense someone’s presence?” Bobby asked.

“I think it is more of sensing someone’s presence. She’s been using it over the last year, going out on hunts with me,” William answered.

“She’s been killing things for the last year?” Bobby asked, not sure what to think of a thirteen-year-old hunting, even with her father.

“Yup, and she’s really good at it. Hell, she saved my neck a couple times now,” William replied, smiling a little as he thought back.

“Damn,” John almost exclaimed, slightly surprised.

The boys came back into the house and went straight for food. Dean was thankful that Maria wasn’t around. He’d still been thinking of another challenge he could win. Dean had attempted to convince his dad to let him challenge her to a race with the Impala and the truck, but his dad had put a stop to that one. He also had no intention of repeating any of their past challenges. The adults quickly changed the topic, hearing the boys in the kitchen. Maria just rolled her eyes from her room, deciding not to take care of her plate yet, knowing Dean was in the kitchen.

“It’s gonna be a long week,” she mumbled, flipping the page in her book.

She came out around four so she could start dinner, determined not to let Dean ruin something she enjoyed. When she went to use the sink so she could wash the chicken, she saw the boys’ dishes from lunch still sitting there.

“Dean! Sammy!” she hollered from the kitchen, trying not to sound as pissed as she felt.

Sammy came running, but Dean hadn’t budged from where he sat in the living room, “You okay sis?” Sammy asked her.

She instantly calmed down hearing him, “Hey, thought we had an agreement when we were here together,” she said after she turned to look at him, managing a soft smile, “Remember, you keep up on your dishes so I can cook dinners?” she asked, sounding nicer than when she had yelled for him.

“Sorry sis,” he replied, feeling bad that he’d forgotten.

Sammy went over and washed up his dishes as Maria just glared at Dean, who was sitting in a chair in the living room, right in her line of sight, “DEAN!” she yelled again.

“What?” he replied as if he had no clue what her problem was.

“How come you left your dishes in the sink?” she asked, trying to keep her temper under control.

“Cause I felt like it,” he said, not even looking over at her.

At that, she smirked, “Okay, well I don’t feel like cooking for you tonight then. You can have something else.” she said in that smartmouth tone of hers and turned back to the sink.

Dean was stubborn, but so was she. He just sat there, the three adults looking over at him, none of them saying a word. They would let the two of them work out their differences but at the same time, they were going to let Maria dictate this one. There was plenty of food in the house and if Dean wanted to be as stubborn as he was, he was going to have to deal with the consequences of his stubbornness.

Maria washed the dishes Dean had left in the sink, as she needed the space to cook, but it also meant he had no way of being able to eat what she was cooking that night. When she got to the potatoes, Sammy wanted to help her, so she let him peel them while she cut them up and got them ready to boil. A half-hour later, the aroma of the baked chicken began filling the kitchen as she stirred the boiling potatoes.

“How much longer sis? I’m starving,” Sammy practically whined as he wandered back into the kitchen.

“About thirty more minutes,” she replied before she turned to him, “Wanna help me set the table?”

“Sure,” he replied excitedly.

She giggled a little seeing his excitement at something so simple, which made her love cooking more than she already did. Maria handed things to Sammy from the higher cabinets that he couldn’t reach and he set the table for everyone.

“Will you stir the gravy while I mash the potatoes?” she asked Sammy, knowing how much he loved to help her.

“Definitly,” he said with a huge grin.

By now the aroma of the baked chicken had made its way into the living room, even getting to the adults. Dean’s stomach growled at how good it smelled, which only annoyed him further. Maria put the mashed potatoes on the table before finishing up the corn and gravy. That was when she pulled the chicken out of the oven, smiling proudly as she set the pan on the pot holder in the middle of the table.

“Dinners done,” she hollered before turning off the stove and sitting down across from Sammy, who had been trying to wait patiently for the last twenty minutes.

They all joined her in the kitchen sitting down at the table, even Dean. She raised an eyebrow, watching him carefully. John put some of everything on Sammy’s plate while Bobby and William set up their plates before she did hers. The moment Dean reached for the chicken, she smacked his hand.

“Hey, what the hell was that for?” he said, annoyed, pulling his hand back.

“Mouth,” John said in a low, deep tone, glancing up at his oldest son.

“You didn’t take care of your lunch dishes, you don’t get what I cooked. We had an agreement,” she explained calmly.

“It’s Bobby’s house, you don’t make the rules,” Dean retorted.

“Boy, she cooked, she makes the rules for the meal she made, and she never asks for more than you boys keeping up on your dishes,” Bobby told him sternly.

“Oh come on!” Dean exclaimed, quite annoyed as he threw his hands up.

“Son, she warned you before she started. Go find something else to eat,” John told him, just as sternly as before.

Dean went to open his mouth but quickly thought better of it. Maria wasn’t even smug about it. Part of her felt bad that he wasn’t going to get any but really she was more hurt than anything that he wanted to break his word to her, about their agreement. In the adult's eyes, it wasn’t much to ask for from her. She didn’t have to cook, she’d wanted to. Maria was fairly good at keeping her emotions out of her expression and the last thing she wanted was for Dean to see that he’d hurt her feelings. She ate mostly in silence as Dean ate two decent-sized meat sandwiches, everyone else praised her on the meal she’d made.

There wasn’t much to put away when everyone was done eating. She’d gone to clean up when John stopped her, setting his hand on her shoulder, causing her to look up at him, “We got clean up tonight,” he smiled down at her, “You’re an amazing cook, by the way.”

She smiled a little, “Thanks Uncle John,” she replied before she headed to her room.

Maria made it halfway through the living room before Sam tackled her with a hug from behind, “Dinner was AMAZING!” he exclaimed, squeezing her tighter.

“Okay Sammy, but I’d like to keep my dinner in my stomach,” she told him through his grip.

He quickly let her go, “Sorry, it was just really good. I miss your cooking when you aren’t around,” he told her.

“Maybe, when we’re older, we can hang out more and I can cook for you,” she told him, knowing it probably wouldn’t happen, not with them all being hunters. It was a nice dream though, and dreams were something she felt Sammy needed.

Dean just glared at her as she walked to her room, “And don’t get into the leftovers Dean. I know how much was left,” she told him without looking over her shoulder, to which he just scoffed.

She got her night chores done before she went back to the book she’d been reading, more things on witchcraft. Some of it was boring but she got through it nonetheless, knowing that even the boring stuff could be useful, depending on the witch. After the adults were asleep though, she slipped out of her room to go look through Bobby’s new books that she had taken note of earlier in the day.

Maria was quiet, even on the hardwood floor as she walked over to the stack of books near his desk. She picked up one on sigils, werewolves, vampires, and even the one on angels she’d read four years ago. Dean watched her from where he was lying on the living room floor, staying completely still, wondering what the hell she was doing. She looked over the pile of books he had stacked in the corner. There was an obscure book that she could only see the corner of but was drawn to it. She set her small stack of books down on the corner of his desk before she carefully, yet quietly, moved the books so she could retrieve the one she was after. Maria stacked the books back up the way they were before she set that one on top of her stack and made her way back to her room.

Dean quietly slipped out of his makeshift bed and followed her but he only made it to the hallway before she closed her door. He smirked, deciding to use this to his advantage, finally having something to hold over her.

In her room, she plopped down on her bed and looked at the top book, the one she’d been drawn to. It had an odd symbol on the cover. It was a circle that took up most of the cover with another circle close to it. Inside the circle were triangles that all pointed down and outward, away from the top and center. She ran her fingers over the image that was slightly raised off the cover, smiling a little. She set the other books to the side of her and opened it, finding it simple to read, having no clue that it was in another language.

Another two hours passed before she even realized it, “Shit…” she whispered, looking over at the clock, seeing that it read midnight, “Dad’s gonna kill me if he finds out I was up this late.”

She quickly stashed the books behind her bag, under her bed before she turned off her lamp and crawled under the covers. Maria didn’t even feel tired but sleep soon found her. Dreams of white hallways lined with doors, each leading to a different place, and a room with what looked like a white throne and white bench seats around the outside of the room played through her mind. She saw what looked like people but they didn’t feel like people and none of them could see her. They were just moving around, doing whatever job it was they were doing.

----------------------------------------- Chapter 6 - When Dreams Are Too Real

Tag List @deans-spinster-witch @kazsrm67

Link to the master list for this story.

#spn #spn fanfic #supernatural #supernatural fanfiction #supernatural oc #dean winchester x oc #dean winchester fanfiction #dean winchester x femaleoc #nephilim #nephilim fanfiction #sam winchester fanfiction

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jate-kara · 1 year ago

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Horizon | On AO3

Thirty-seven hours.

Andal had told himself he’d stop counting after twenty-four. It was his usual compromise: worry for a while, and then let it go. Focus on your work. Don't get distracted. Do some extra training when you get too restless. This was all familiar agony by now. The field was for his Hunters. The Tower was for the Vanguard.

Traveler, sometimes he wished he’d never accepted that damn Dare.

Andal risked another glance at the clock. Zavala was at the head of the conference table and still deep in conversation with Saladin. He wasn't likely to catch the fourth check in two minutes. Ikora, though - she knew. Andal felt her shoot him a worried side-eye from somewhere to his left. He pretended he didn't notice. His datapad had sat untouched in front of him for so long that the screen had gone dark, so despite the stylus he'd been toying with to at least look sort of busy, it was painfully evident that he was not paying any amount of the requisite attention. Shit.

He clicked the datapad on again, more to avoid Ikora's concern than to actually accomplish anything. His notes were messy and scattered. The notifications were equally cluttered. Mission report submission flags. Memos from scheduled check-ins. Updates from secondary Scouts he'd sent out after the primary Hunter for the mission had dropped off the map for too long. Sometimes, that was just Hunters being Hunters. Other times, that was Hunters being dead. Andal scanned the updates. There was nothing new.

There was nothing that would stop the clock he was supposed to have started ignoring thirteen hours ago.

The meeting ended an hour late. Andal was the first one up. As soon as he rounded the hall corner and was out of the others' immediate sight, he let the Void wash over him. Technically, using the Light to go invisible in the Tower was frowned upon. Only technically. And he had no intentions of getting caught, just like he had no intentions of speaking to anyone between here and his Vanguard office. His head was spinning. He had to remember to breathe. He had no idea what the hell anyone had been talking about for the last three hours.

He needed out of this damn Tower.

He didn't go to his Vanguard office. He climbed up to the highest point of the Tower that he could find and he dangled his legs over the edge and he looked at the City and the world beyond its horizon and he wanted to scream. Shiro and Tevis and Cayde were out there somewhere, each on their own assignments. He'd put them on a special check-in schedule, one that guaranteed he'd be able to talk to them, no matter how briefly. They were supposed to call one after the other: Shiro, then Tevis, then Cayde. But he hadn't heard from any of them in thirty-eight hours. Even meticulous, responsible Shiro had missed the last window; there hadn't been so much as a ping from his Ghost to say he was still alive.

Andal dropped his head into his hands and dragged his fingernails along his scalp. He'd pulled his long hair up into a messy bun a while ago, too distracted to bother with brushing it. Cayde would fuss over him if he saw it - Haven’t taken a break lately, huh? - and then gently undo and untangle it. Andal closed his eyes and imagined it, just for a second. That warmth. That peace.

He'd kill for that right now.

"I'm sure they're fine." Astraea materialized beside him. "They're just…busy.”

I should be there with them. The words died in his throat. He’d made his choice when he’d accepted the Dare. This was his life now, and had been for well over a year. Him, here, with the Vanguard and the bureaucrats, while his most important people in the world were out there. Maybe in danger. Without him. For the rest of eternity, unless some other Hunter stepped up and said they wanted the job. Or he died. In which case it was Cayde's problem.

Andal drove his palms into his eyes. “Get a grip,” he groaned, and was glad Astraea knew him well enough to know when he was talking to himself, and not at her. “Not like any of this is new.”

Astraea bumped his shoulder. Andal patted at her absently. "Thanks," he muttered. "Sorry I'm not the best company right now."

His comm buzzed before she had the chance to respond. Andal scrambled to answer it. He recognized the code immediately. "Shiro, you all right?"

There was a long, weighted pause. "Are you?"

Damn, he really did need to pull it together. "You missed your check-in," Andal said, instead of explaining the crack in his voice. "I thought-"

"Sorry about that. Ran into some comm interference unexpectedly. I've got the patrol data and I'm making the return trip. So I'll ask you again: what happened to you?"

There was no good way to answer that. "Vanguard stuff," he said. "Nothing to worry about."

"Cayde and Tevis haven't checked in either, have they?" It sounded more like a statement than a question. Shiro really had a way of seeing through bullshit. It was very useful when it was leveled at Cayde or Tevis. Not so much right now.

Andal blew out a breath. "No. Not for a while."

"You know Tevis doesn't check in because he doesn't want to, and Cayde is…Cayde. They're probably fine."

"I know."

Shiro gave a disbelieving huff. "I'll be back at the Tower in a few hours. We can go over the patrol data then, unless you have other obligations."

Shiro didn't need to come all the way back to the Tower to go over data. It was something they could easily manage through a few messages or comm calls. Some of the tightness in Andal's chest eased. "I don't," he said, without checking his schedule. "I'll meet you in my office when you get here."

It turned out maybe he should have checked his schedule, because when he finally made his way back down into the inhabited part of the Tower, Zavala was standing outside his door. Andal came to a slow stop. The Commander wasn't holding a datapad so they probably didn't have a meeting Andal had forgotten about, and he didn't have a severe expression, so Andal probably hadn't done anything to warrant a reprimand.

"Something I can help you with?" Andal asked, crossing his arms and propping a shoulder against the wall.

Zavala watched him with a furrowed brow. He was quiet for a moment, as though he was trying to figure out how to say what he wanted to say. "You seemed - distracted, earlier today. I wanted to-"

"I'm fine." Oh, way to go, Brask. Top points for selling that one.

Zavala studied him. "You've received a great deal of difficult reports in the last week," he said. "If there's anything I can-"

"Look, I appreciate it, but there's nothing to worry about." Andal tried for a smile, and knew it didn't reach his eyes. He pushed himself up off the wall, then moved to access the keypad for his office. Zavala stepped out of the way, but he didn't go any farther. Andal shot him a glance as the door opened. "That all?"

There was a tired defeat in Zavala’s eyes. "Yes," he said quietly. "Goodnight, Andal."

Andal stepped in, swiped the door shut, and slid down against the wall beside it. He didn't bother turning on the lights. The only source of illumination was the moonbeams streaming through the floor to ceiling windows, and the muted glow of the City below. Andal leaned his head back and let his eyes slip shut.

"He's just trying to help," Astraea said. She sounded disapproving. Andal kept his eyes closed. She nudged his shoulder - once, and then again when he didn't move.

"I know," he allowed.

"He's your friend. So is Ikora. I know you saw her message yesterday."

"I didn't say that I didn't."

"But you didn't answer her."

"She's got enough going on without me adding to it."

"They're worried about you."

"I'm fine."

The lights clicked on. Andal jumped, and was halfway to his feet when the sound of the door opening finally registered, like the information had been caught in a buffer before it hit his brain.

Shiro stared down at him as if he'd just found him half dead in a pit and not slumped pathetically in his office. "'Fine'," he repeated. "Yeah, you sure look fine."

"You're okay," Andal said, like it wasn't obvious.

"Is there some reason you thought I wouldn't be? It was just a patrol, Andal. Very routine."

Almost every one of the dead Hunters' missions had been routine. Andal blinked at him. "Uh. No?"

"If you want me to believe you, don't phrase that like a question." Shiro eased to the floor beside him, close enough that their shoulders were pressed together. Some of the tension strung along Andal's spine released. "You want to tell me what's going on, or do you want me to drag Cayde back here for you?"

"Are those my only two options?"

"Well, I can get Tev, but he'll probably make you buy him a drink before he'll listen."

Andal managed something close to a laugh. "If I pull him off recon to come back to the Tower, you'll need to find another Vanguard. He'll kill me. He hates it here more than I do right-"

He cut himself off too late. Shiro tilted his head at him, and Andal shrugged helplessly. "Forget I said anything," he said, as if that had ever dissuaded Shiro before.

It hadn't. And it didn't this time. Shiro's gaze was considering. "Is it the Tower, or someone in it?"

That look was distinctly Tevis. Andal shoved at Shiro's shoulder, to at least jar him out of it. "It's the Tower. And even if it wasn't, you can't just shoot someone for bothering me."

"Hey, I'd make sure they were a Lightbearer first."

There was no grin in Shiro's voice. Andal wanted to believe it had been a joke. No, he was going to believe it. For his own sanity. He scrubbed at his eyes. Shiro waited.

"It's the Tower," Andal said again. "It's always the damn Tower. I'm up here sending the Hunters out but it's never me getting shot at."

"Ah." Shiro didn't sound surprised, just thoughtful. "Someone took a hit and didn't get back up."

"Three fireteams in the last week." Andal's voice cracked. He felt more than saw Shiro shift, so he was pressed a little closer.

"We all know the risks."

"We had bad information." The words tasted acrid. Like an excuse. "The assignments I gave them went sideways because of it."

"You do what you can with what you have, and so do they."

Andal's heart turned painfully. "One of these times," he whispered, a voice for the fear burning in his chest, "it could be you. Or Tevis. Or Cayde."

"Maybe. But I've always known that, even before you were Vanguard. If anything happened, I wouldn't blame you, Andal. I'd appreciate it if you respected that enough to not blame yourself."

Shiro never did waste time dancing around the point. Andal opened his mouth to argue, but one glance at Shiro's unwavering stare was enough to kill the protest before it started. "All right," he said, and held his hands up in mock surrender. "I get it."

"You don't. But you'll get there."

Andal elbowed him. Shiro was unaffected. "I know you well enough to know this isn't the last time we're going to have this conversation. That's fine. I'll say it as many times as you need me to."

Breathing hurt, suddenly. "Thanks," Andal said, more quietly than he'd meant to.

"You don't have to thank me. Just remember what I said." Shiro's expression shifted, from resolved to concerned. "You've been Vanguard for a while. This isn't the first time this kind of thing has happened. Tell me you've been talking to someone when it does."

Andal didn't answer.

"Andal."

"...does Astraea count?"

"He doesn't talk to me about it," Astraea interjected. "He just says he's fine and not to worry about him."

Shiro heaved a soul-weary sigh. "I don't know what I expected."

Andal grimaced. "Sorry. I probably owe you a drink after all this."

"You don't owe me anything."

"Pretty sure I was supposed to give you some glimmer at some point."

That earned him a chuckle. "Keep it. I've heard Vanguard pay is terrible."

They lapsed into a comfortable silence. Andal let it be for a moment, and then he broke it. "You know, it'd be easier to see the stars out there if you'd left the lights off."

"So go turn the lights off."

"I didn't turn them on. You do it."

Shiro held up one sparking finger. "Don't fry my office," Andal grumbled, pushing himself to his feet so he could cross the room to the lightswitch. "Damned Bladedancer."

Halfway there, his comm chimed, and his heart leapt into his throat. He barely registered the code as he fumbled to swipe the screen on. "Cayde?"

"I'm sorry," Cayde blurted. He rubbed the back of his head awkwardly. "Just realized I missed the last check-in. Sundance reminded me. Fallen were shooting at us. I was shooting back. It was a mess. Glad we made - hey, are you okay?"

"Do I look not okay?"

Cayde made a show of scrutinizing him. "Huh," he said, and nothing else.

Despite the relief flooding his chest, Andal wanted to strangle him. "What do you mean, 'huh'?"

"Just huh," Cayde returned. "How's the Tower?"

"A lot quieter when you're not in it."

"Is that a good thing or a bad thing?"

"You tell me." Andal's datapad pinged an alert - Tevis sending a short summary of his findings, which usually amounted to about three sentences: Went to the Place. Killed the enemies. Left the Place. This one had an extra few at the end. Shiro told me to check in more. I'm not doing that. ~ T.L.

"Andal?"

"Tevis sent me his report. He was nice enough to leave the location tag on it. He's somewhere in the City. And he missed every check-in."

Cayde tried to stifle his laugh. "Sorry, I know it's not funny," he said, through the palm he'd plastered over his mouth.

"Yeah, I can tell," Andal said dryly. "Don't you have your own report to be writing right about now?"

"No, because right now I'm talking to my beloved Vanguard."

It was far from the sappiest thing Cayde had ever said. It still made Andal's heart melt. "Fine," he said, trying for a measure of sternness and completely and utterly failing. "Do it later."

"He won't," Shiro supplied, exasperated, and Cayde sputtered some kind of protest. Andal barely heard it. He hit the lights, settled down next to Shiro, and listened to them bicker. If he closed his eyes, he was back with the crew, laughing around a campfire under a blanket of stars. The air was crisp and cool and their eyes were shining and no one was dead. He breathed and his chest didn't hurt.

He breathed, and for a while, it felt like peace.

—

Peace did not last long: only until the next morning, actually, when he woke up on his office couch with his neck at a bad angle and his limbs tangled in a survival pack blanket that didn't belong to him but had trim in Shiro's signature yellow. The sun was streaming through the windows, he couldn't move his head more than a few degrees to the left - and someone was banging on his door. Andal blinked blankly at it for a few beats. He didn't have meetings early.

"Good morning!" Astraea chirped, like the world's happiest alarm clock. "It's almost noon."

Andal cast her a sour look as he dug around in search of his datapad. "Hello?" he croaked, and cursed his dry throat.

The banging stopped. Small mercy. Andal untangled himself the rest of the way from the blanket and stumbled from one end of the office to the other until he realized his boots were right next to the couch the whole time. "Could just cloak and go out the window," he muttered, and shuffled over to slam the door release.

Lord Shaxx was not a frequent visitor; he hadn't been even before Twilight Gap had taken him from a position in the old Vanguard to Crucible handler. There were no meetings on Andal's schedule. He hadn't agreed to any Crucible match he could remember. But Shaxx was still here, fully armored, with his hands on his hips.

"Shaxx," Andal said, haltingly. "Something I can help you with?"

"You're alive! Good. Come with me."

Andal jogged to catch up, acutely aware of Astraea's amused hum and his own disheveled appearance. "If I missed a meeting, you have my apologies. But you could just send me a message."

Shaxx gave a booming laugh. "You aren't missing anything," he said, like that made whatever he was talking about obvious. "But you think you are. And I have a solution."

"Your solution to everything is a Crucible match."

"Not quite."

Shaxx led him out of the Tower, and then out of the City, all the way to the outskirts. To the Wall. To the gaping wound in it. Andal slowed to a stop. The wind was just as cutting now as it had been then, but today, there was no fire or smoke or seething ruin. The sky was clear for miles. Flowers had grown over the rubble, and they waved gently in the breeze. No death. No bodies. No blood. Just old scars, and a quiet peace.

Andal turned to Shaxx, stricken. "Why here?"

"Where else?" Shaxx's volume had dropped, but his voice was no less powerful for its softness. He took a few steps forward and rested a hand on the wound in the Wall. "You remember that day as well as I do."

"Everyone in the City remembers Twilight Gap."

"'Everyone', you say, as if you didn't lead a charge off the Wall and into the fray yourself. As if you didn't hunt the Fallen to the end of the pass alone. No ammunition. You'd lost your knife. All you had was your will, and your Light."

"Are you going somewhere with this?"

"Tell me, Brask: do your Hunters follow you of their own free will?"

Andal bit back a sigh. "Do you think there's anyone in the damn world who could get that many Hunters to do something they didn't want to do?"

"No," Shaxx said simply.

Andal dragged a hand through the mess that was his hair. Half of it had come free of the bun when he'd been asleep, and he'd pulled it apart the rest of the way on the walk to the Wall. The wind cutting down through the mountain pass blew it across his face, so instead of answering Shaxx, he focused on tying it back.

Shaxx was still staring at him once he finished. "Zavala thinks you need time. Ikora says to give you space. I think you've had enough of both. What you need is a reminder.

"A reminder?"

"That there is a reason for the Hunters' belief in you. That you would give your life for the City as readily as any of them. That your leadership from the Tower is not cowardice. That there is no shame in your grief, and that it is not weakness to ask another for their strength."

The words rang between them. Shaxx let the echo hang there, and Andal didn't try to dispel it. He didn't want to crack a joke, or bury the ache building in his chest. He wanted to breathe without the crushing weight. He wanted to hear Shiro weave a story again. He wanted to see Tevis give that rare grin. He wanted the warmth of Cayde’s arms around him. He wanted the open air and the faint light of the stars above. But he was caught between the familiar agony and the City's horizon: always reaching for a world he could no longer touch. Always mourning the deaths he couldn't prevent. Always wondering who might be next.

Andal crossed his arms against the wind's chill. "I wish it felt like enough," he said.

Shaxx relaxed his stance: less proud warrior and more gentle giant. "I know," he returned, and what he didn't say, Andal heard anyway. There was a reason it was so hard to find Hunters willing to be the Vanguard: why Tallulah had made that bet with the Ahamkara, why Caliban had lamented his fate when the role fell to him after, and then dropped off the map, and why every successor since had either died or disappeared, too. The Tower wasn't a cage like Cayde seemed to think, but it kept them separate from the Hunters they sought to unite. They could plan and guide and inspire all they wanted: it wouldn't change the fact that they couldn't stand shoulder-to-shoulder with their Scouts. Sooner or later, it drove them to desperate recklessness. Sooner or later, one way or another, it got them killed.

Andal met Shaxx's line of sight, and knew, even through the helmet, that his gaze was steel. "I know what you're trying to do," Andal said, with a rueful shake of the head. "You don't have to. I'm not going to go off the deep end."

Shaxx didn't move, except to square his shoulders. There was a current of tension to his stance that hadn't been there before. "It's a funny thing," he said. "Caliban said something similar to me once. And where is he now?

"I'm not Caliban."

"Neither was Aparajita. Or Kauko Swiftriver."

"I'm not them either," Andal shot back. "I gave my word when I accepted the Dare. I'm Vanguard now. It's my responsibility. That won't change. I just - I wish I could be out there with them."

The words left him like they'd been forced out by a blow to the chest: explosive and desperate. Shaxx considered him for a long moment. He didn't look convinced, not even a little, but he didn't push further. In the distance, the sun was sinking below the mountains. Shaxx turned to that instead, and Andal followed him. They stayed in the quiet of the Gap until the fire of the sunset had faded into twilight. Then, with a thunderous clap to his shoulder, Shaxx left for the City.

Andal propped himself up against some overgrown rubble and dug his datapad out of his pack. He wanted to put it back immediately. Every Hunter he'd dispatched on a mission in the last two months had apparently decided to send in their reports at the same time. His messages were a veritable flood

"Not dealing with that right now," Andal muttered, and scrolled past them. The rest was standard - Vanguard shit, a couple pings from Shiro for no reason besides saying hello, a single line from Tevis's datapad that just said Checking in - from Shiro, Tev is with me - and sixteen missed calls from Cayde. Andal jolted upright, then immediately relaxed. The most recent call had a short note attached: sorry - sat on my datapad. <3

Warmth swelled in Andal's chest, and stayed there all the way back to the Tower. His Vanguard apartment was tucked in the lower levels, far from any hum of activity. It made the chances of running into a Consensus lackey significantly slimmer - which was good, because he didn't have that much patience for them on his best days, and all he wanted to do now was clean up, make some tea, call Cayde, and settle in on the couch to maybe review at least some of the report deluge.

Right after he figured out why the damn door was already unlocked. Andal reached for his knife, called the Void, and slipped inside without a sound. Nothing out of place in the entryway - except an extra pair of boots that most certainly did not belong to him, and a familiar cloak hanging on the hook.

The Void receded in a rush. He heard more than saw Astraea lock the door behind him. "Cayde?" Andal called, sheathing his blade and toeing off his own boots.

A soft noise came from the pile of blankets on the couch. Andal made it to Cayde's side just in time to see him shoot upright and fling the blankets off. "Damn it," Cayde muttered. His shoulders slumped. "I was gonna make you dinner."

This close, Andal could see the telltale signs of exhaustion. Cayde had a particular way of holding himself when he'd gone too long without stopping; that thin strand of tension was corded through his frame as if it was the only thing holding him up. "Sorry," he mumbled, and stifled a yawn. "Got in early, took a shower and thought, hey, what's five minutes. Turns out it was not five minutes."

"Are those my clothes?" Andal asked, amused.

Cayde looked down at himself like it was a surprise. He'd stolen a simple pair of black sweatpants and a soft navy blue jacket that he'd only bothered to zip up a quarter of the way. "Maybe."

"Either they are or they aren't. There's no maybe option."

"Maybe," Cayde said again, with more conviction.

Andal fought the smile tugging at the corners of his mouth as he kneeled next to the couch. "You look tired," he said, pushing a careful palm against Cayde's exposed chest to ease him into lying down.

Cayde went without resistance or retort. There was a faint, unfocused haze to the glow of his eyes. He covered Andal's hand with one of his own and held it there, pressed to the low thrum of life. "Missed you," he whispered.

Andal's heart turned so sharply his insides ached. "That's supposed to be my line," he managed, leaning forward to lay his cheek against Cayde's chest.

"Hey, Andal?" Cayde's voice wavered. His other arm settled across Andal's back. "You'd tell me if something was wrong, right?"

Andal hummed an affirmative. It earned him a low chuckle. The fingers tracing lazy circles on his back crept up to tug his hair free, and Andal couldn't help the soft groan when they dragged along his scalp. "I don't mean with just this," Cayde said. "I mean in general."

"Not when you're in the field. I don't want you distracted."

"You know I think about you anyway." There was a spark of mischief in Cayde's tone. "And anyway, I'm not in the field right now."

Andal rolled his eyes and pushed himself to his feet with a huff, heedless of Cayde’s pitiful whine at the loss of contact. "I need to clean up. Then we can go get dinner."

Andal made it halfway to the bedroom before he heard footsteps, and arms wrapped around his waist from behind. "Lemme help," Cayde murmured, a rush of warmth against the back of his neck.

"I actually want to get clean sometime today, Cayde."

"Your hair's a mess."

"I was out in the wind." Andal twisted in his arms so he could look him in the eyes, and his next protest died on his lips. It wasn't often Cayde looked at him with so much raw vulnerability; he cloaked his fear and his grief in dazzling sunlight, so the rest of the world would focus on the flash of his smile and not the cracks in his heart. Andal had learned to see through it a long time ago. But it was different when Cayde stripped it away himself.

"I missed you," Cayde said, and his voice cracked. "I still miss you. And I can't figure out how to get to where you are so I can stop."

Andal brushed his fingers along the sharp line of his jaw. Cayde’s next inhale stuttered, more a sob than a sigh of contentment, and Andal's world collapsed and coalesced until all he could see was Cayde, burning with his own familiar agony and breaking himself apart to cross the horizon between them.

Andal surged forward and wrapped his arms around him and kissed him until the fire in his lungs was because he couldn't breathe, and not because the peace he wanted was out of his reach. Cayde was warm and solid and pressed against him, and that low thrum was strong and sure beneath his fingertips, and Cayde's breath was a soft whisper against his neck.

"I'm here," Cayde said. The words were ragged, strangled by his desperation. "I've got you."

Andal tried to ease a step back, to see his face, and to kiss him again, but Cayde resisted any movement that could put any amount of space between them - like if he let go now, Andal would once more be beyond him. It made Andal's chest ache. He didn't want to let go. He wanted to be here, where there was no death, or loss, or crushing weight. He wanted to lose himself in the steady hum from the heart of Cayde's frame. He wanted to open the windows and gaze at stars while he was wrapped up in Cayde's arms. It felt like peace. Like home. A single word burned in his throat, a plea he could never voice - Stay.

"You wanna tell me what's going on?" Cayde asked, a long time later, and still holding him close.

Andal shook his head.

"Okay," Cayde said. "You wanna go clean up?"

Andal heaved a deep sigh. Cayde laughed softly. "C'mon, it'll help."

"I'm fine here," Andal grumbled, and grasped futilely at Cayde's shoulders when he gently pulled away.

"C'mon," Cayde said again, tangling their fingers together and tugging him toward the bedroom. "I gotcha."

Cayde helped him wash up and slip into a comfortable hooded sweatshirt and loose pants, then set him down on the couch and went to work on his hair. It was still wet from the shower, and gradually less disastrous the longer Cayde spent painstakingly massaging various products into it. The careful rhythm soothed Andal into a warm haze. His head dropped back against Cayde's collar, and he only noticed he'd almost drifted off because those lovely fingers in his hair stopped moving.

"You know you have to sit up more if you want me to finish this."

"Mm."

"Andal." There was fond exasperation there. Cayde tapped his cheek. The quiet ping of a message notification interrupted whatever he was going to say next. He gathered Andal to his chest and planted a quick kiss on his hair, then started to extricate himself from the embrace.

Andal's heart lurched. He closed a tight grip around Cayde's wrist reflexively. "You're leaving?"

Cayde paused his efforts to untangle himself from Andal and also escape the sinking cushions of the couch. He didn't tug at the wrist Andal had in a vice grip. "Just for a minute," Cayde answered slowly. "I asked Tevis to pick us up some food. He's almost here."

Andal made himself let go. "Tevis hates the Tower. He won't come here unless he absolutely has to. Trust me, I've tried."

"Well, he does absolutely have to. He owes me a favor."

"Do I want to know how that happened?"

"Nope," Cayde said, with a little too much enthusiasm, as he finally managed to get back to his feet. He reached down to tilt Andal's chin up with a single digit. "Be right back. Don't go anywhere, beautiful."

Andal swatted at his hand. "Quit flirting and go let Tevis in," he said, despite the warmth blooming under his ribs. "I don't want him to break my door down."

It wasn't Tevis that showed up: it was an uncharacteristically surly Shiro. He handed the bags to Cayde with all the airs of a man who'd just spent too long fighting a losing battle. "I owed him a favor," he muttered. "And he decided that his debt to you was paid when he picked the food up and brought it to me. So I could take it to you."

"I told you he was a cheat," Cayde said, unhelpfully.

"Thanks, Shiro," Andal called, and Shiro studied him intently for a second. Whatever he found swept some of the aggravation away from his stance; he tossed off a cheerful wave as he ducked out.

Cayde was already unpacking the ramen onto the coffee table. Behind him, Sundance closed and locked the door with a sigh. Andal cast her a thankful look as he settled on the floor and propped his back against the couch.

Cayde dropped down next to him. "I was thinking," he said, looping an arm around Andal, "that I'd stick around the City for a couple weeks. Maybe drag you out of the Tower sometimes. Shiro said there're a few local festivals coming up, and-"

He didn't finish, because Andal stole the rest of his words with a searing kiss.

"Didn't know you liked festivals that much." Cayde sounded breathless. His gaze was completely unfocused. "Damn."

Andal tapped his cheek. "You okay in there?"

"I think I shorted something, but yeah." Cayde shook his head, like that would clear the fog. "Do that again."

Andal almost considered it. Almost. But the weariness in his bones felt like a lead weight, and the ramen was steaming, and Cayde was half curled around him. "Later," he said instead, and felt Cayde's chest hum with a soft laugh.

"You got it."

—-

The damn Tower was only ever loud on the rare occasion he wanted it to stay quiet.

Andal heard the hurricane coming before it hit and immediately categorized it as a five, because while there were two pairs of hurried footsteps approaching his office door at battering speed, the only raised voice he could make out was coming from the Speaker, and that always meant serious trouble. Could be an issue with the Consensus. Could be an emergency meeting to address some kind of apocalyptic threat.

Or it could be Tevis Larsen, stalking through the door with the Speaker two steps behind him. He didn't wait for the leader of the entire City's governing body to come through after him; he slammed a fist back into the controls to close and lock it in his face.

Andal shot to his feet. "Tevis, what the hell?"

"He asked me to explain calling out to the Void to him." Tevis looked utterly unperturbed. "I said no. He kept asking. I wasn't gonna say no twenty times."

Andal dragged a hand down his face. Tevis, who hated the Tower, was in the Tower, in Andal's office, with a slighted Speaker standing just outside the door, presumably after having followed Tevis across the entire structure asking about a power that was anything but well understood, which had to do with a branch of the Light that certain vocal fringe groups still considered controversially aligned with the Darkness, despite every writing Ikora Rey had ever produced with evidence to the contrary. Great. He could already see the fifteen new committees this was going to spawn.

"Tevis," Andal said, voice tight, "the Speaker is in charge of the entire Consensus. He runs the City."

"I don't answer to the damned Consensus. And if you weren't on the Vanguard, I wouldn't answer to them either."

Andal closed his eyes and massaged the bridge of his nose. "Fine, then look at it this way: I work with these people. Could you try not to make me look bad?"

"Cayde's been in here all the damn time lately. I don't think their opinions can get any lower."

Andal bit back a retort and reached for the door controls so he could start to smooth the mess out, but Zavala's voice on the other side stopped him. Ah. He was already on it. Andal would have to thank him later. "Okay," he said, turning back to Tevis. "What the hell is going on?"

Tevis's face didn't even twitch. "I can't just visit a friend?"

"Not when you've spent the last week avoiding me."

Tevis shrugged. "Shiro's been on my ass about coming to see you. I got sick of it."

"Shiro's been on your ass about that for a lot longer than the week you've been back in the City. Nice try, though."

A flicker of unease flashed in Tevis's eyes. He tugged at his hood, but didn't lower it, shifted his weight from one foot to the other, and glanced at the door. "Can we talk somewhere else?"

Andal waited until there were no more voices behind his door, then led Tevis outside, away from the Vanguard and the Consensus and the low buzz of their chaos. He only stopped once they made it to his sanctuary at the highest point of the Tower.

"You allowed to be up here? Thought your Vanguard might be kinda uptight about it." Tevis sat down gingerly, like he didn't trust the edge not to crumble by virtue of it being a Vanguard structure, and dangled his legs over the abyss below.

"Don't know. Never asked." Andal eased down too, and leaned back on his hands. In the distance, the sun was just starting to sink toward the horizon. A warm gust of wind caught Tevis's hood and blew it back, and Andal jolted. Tevis's long, dark hair was pulled up and braided into an elaborate coil at the back of his head. It wasn't something he had the inclination to do himself; mostly he just tied it however was quickest.

"Did you finally let Cayde do your hair?" Andal blurted.

He knew the answer before Tevis gave it by the exasperated eyeroll. "One time and one time only," Tevis muttered, but a faint smile still curved the corner of his mouth when he ran a hand over the coil of hair. "He said he wanted to practice it. Looked so happy about it I didn't have the heart to tell him off."

"Looks good on you," Andal said brightly, and earned an elbow to the side of the head. "Ow."

"You get shot and you don't make a damn sound. How the hell is that 'ow'?"

"Most of the time getting shot kills me."

Tevis gave a deep sigh. "Not what I meant."

"Pretty sure there was something else you came here to talk about anyway." Andal gave him a sidelong glance, and Tevis's shoulders tensed. "Did something happen?"

"No," Tevis ground out. His face went through an impressive array of volatile emotions before settling on blatant discomfort. He opened his mouth to say something else and all that came out was a single cracked syllable.

Andal shifted closer, so their shoulders were pressed together. He didn't say anything and, for a long time, neither did Tevis. He just sat there glaring into the distance with his hands clenched into fists in his lap.

"You're okay here?" Tevis managed at last.

"I'm not sure what that means, Tev."

Tevis scowled. "Being in the Tower all the time isn't killing you?"

Andal tilted his head at him. Tevis avoided his gaze. "It's where I belong now."

Tevis scoffed at that. A thin tremor ran down his spine. "Fucking Dare," he hissed under his breath.

Andal groaned. "Don't start. I get enough of that from Cayde calling the Tower a cage every other week."

"No, I don't mean - " Tevis stopped short. His fists were clenched so tightly his forearms were trembling. He took a ragged breath. "When you left to be Vanguard, I told myself it wasn't that different. You were always the mastermind and the marksman. Who the hell cared if you were on overwatch from the Tower now? You were looking out for us, same as always. But it wasn't the same."

Tevis took a steadying breath, but it didn't stop his arms from shaking. "Wasn't the same," he repeated, like he was forcing the words out. "Didn't know how to deal with it, so I left. Spent a lot of time on my own before I met Cayde and he dragged me into his crazy bullshit. Never thought I'd like being part of a crew. Never thought I'd miss it this much, either."

Andal's chest ached. He nudged Tevis with an elbow. "You know you can still come see me," he said. It came out flat, as if it couldn't mean anything when it was weighed against the gravity of everything else.

Tevis gave him a tired stare, then turned back to the horizon. "It's like there's a barrier," he said, so softly Andal almost missed it. "Between here and out there. Shiro goes back and forth across it like it's nothing. Cayde's a damn disaster about it, but he won't admit it. And you have to stay in the Tower even if half of you's on the other side of that horizon."

"What about you?"

"It's easier to just stay out there."

Tevis fell silent. Andal let the quiet be until some of the tension in Tevis's shoulders had eased. "Hey, Tev?"

"Hm."

"You know avoiding me because you miss me doesn't make a lot of sense."

"That's what Shiro said."

"Shiro's usually right when it comes to you."

"The hell he is."

"Cayde agrees with me."

"Of course he does. Cayde'll do anything to be a pain in my ass." Beneath the dry delivery, there was a note of undeniable fondness.

Andal huffed a laugh. "Can't really argue with that."

Tevis went quiet again. At first, it looked like he was winding up to bolt. Andal could count on one hand the number of times Tevis Larsen had had an honest conversation about his feelings and not imploded afterwards, and all of them had happened at death's door. But while he had half curled in on himself like he was protecting a wound, Tevis didn't get up, or make a move to throw himself off the Tower to escape. He stayed, and he watched the sun sink into a sea of fire at Andal's side.

"I'll try to be here more," Tevis offered gruffly, once the burning sunset had faded to a cool twilight. "On one condition."

"Anything."

"You check in too."

Andal blinked at him. "Huh?"

"You make a hell of a Vanguard, Andal, but I know it's killing part of you to be up in the Tower. Stop acting like it isn't. You can't talk to Cayde about it because he gets all guilty. Fine. Talk to me or Shiro then."

Tevis offering to talk about emotions on a regular basis: that was a new one. It stunned Andal to brief silence. "Okay," he said, a long moment later, and almost jumped when Tevis dragged him into a rough hug.

"I'll hold you to it," Tevis said, and even though Andal couldn't see his face, he heard the smile in his voice.

Andal tilted his head back to look up at the stars. They cast a faint glow high above the hum of the City, just enough to see the faint outline of the horizon beyond.

Suddenly, it didn't feel so far away.

—-

#destiny #destiny 2 #andal brask #cayde 6 #candal #shiro 4 #tevis larsen #zavala #ikora rey #lord shaxx #my writing

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monstersandmaw · 2 years ago

Text

Male werewolf x female character (Gabe & Odessa) - Part Nineteen (nsfw)

Disclaimer which I’m including in all my works after plagiarism and theft has taken place: I do not give my consent for my works to be used, copied, published, or posted anywhere. They are copyrighted and belong to me.

___

Thank you so much if you commented or reblogged with tags on the last one! This Christmas Day update is for you specifically :). It’s a bit of an ‘in-between’ chapter, and things are going to start wrapping up soon. I’ve now finished writing it all, and each chapter now just needs an edit before uploading. There are three more after this one, and as ever, I look forward to your feedback and reactions. Thank you for beta-reading it for me, as it were!

Content: The full moon is still looming, Gabe & Odessa spend their last few days in and around Pinewatch, and Odessa learns a little about what it’s like for Gabe on the full moon. Wordcount: 4832

Catch up here:

Part One (sfw), Part Two (sfw), Part Three (sfw), Part Four (sfw), Part Five (sfw), Part Six (sfw) Part Seven (sfw), Part Eight (sfw), Part Nine (sfw), Part Ten (sfw), Part Eleven (nsfw), Part Twelve (sfw), Part Thirteen (sfw), Part Fourteen (nsfw), Part Fifteen (nsfw), Part Sixteen (nsfw), Part Seventeen (sfw), Part Eighteen (v. light nsfw),

Odessa’s last few days in Pinewatch passed in a blur.

When it wasn’t raining, they took the wolf-dogs for walks from Gabe’s house, visiting the meadow by the river from one of their earlier walks a couple of times since the dogs seemed to enjoy it almost as much as Odessa did.

There was something about the way the meadow opened up once they crossed the stepping stones over the stream that sparked an aching in Odessa’s chest, especially on that last time as she stood with her hand in Gabe’s and the dogs snuffling through the meadow and following the scents left behind like the ghosts of the rabbits and deer and foxes that had nosed through the grasses in the night. All around her, the wide, broad sweep of grass had been leached of summer colour to leave faded strands of pale gold dotted with rattling seed heads and prickling teasels, and beyond the boundary of the clearing, tall pine trees stood sentinel.

“There’s a hawk over there, watching us,” Gabe whispered in her ear and she jumped at the sound of his voice after so long in stillness.

“Where? I can’t see anything but trees…”

He smiled and took his time pointing it out while Thunder loped over to the trees to investigate. The movement disturbed it, and the bird took flight in an affronted flap of coffee coloured wings before wheeling away westwards over the forest and out of sight.

Odessa turned and laid her cheek against his chest. He was wearing a light, woollen jumper, and the humble warmth of him in the cold autumn day was wonderful against her body. “If you’d asked me a year ago, I never would have imagined myself saying this,” she said, “But I would honestly love to live somewhere like this now.” She was thinking of his cosy house, nestled in the shelter of the pine trees a few miles away down the valley.

Gabe’s answering smile was accompanied by a flash of gold and a laugh. He hugged her and tipped backwards a little, arching his spine so that her feet left the floor and she whooped a laugh and clung to him, and when he set her down, she found Mia boinging up and down on the spot and snapping her jaws in her own way of laughing.

“I knew you’d warm up to me eventually, princess,” Odessa grinned at the dog, who immediately sneezed and trotted off with her tail held high. Axel looked from Mia to Odessa as if to apologise for his haughty sister, and then slunk off into the brambles around the edge of the open meadow to find Thunder.

They watched the dogs for a while, but when the clouds started to drift in, they headed back home and curled up to read together on the sofa in his living room, tangled up beneath a simple, cream coloured, knitted blanket.

When rain put pay to their walks on those last remaining days, Gabe drove them into town instead.

They drank coffee together, with their fingers interlaced on the tabletop, and Odessa mapped and learned all the little nicks and scars on his tanned hands from his work outdoors and from running as a wolf through the woods. They ate blackberry cupcakes from Marco’s until they thought they might burst and even Gabe said he’d had enough, all the while chatting and filling in the incidental details of their lives that hadn’t yet come up, while rain made wavering silver bars on the cafe windows. Laughing, they darted from shop to shop, jostling together under the shelter of Gabe’s old jacket, and despite the wet weather, the frizzing hair, the damp clothes, the chilly feet, and the looming knowledge of her imminent departure, Odessa felt happy to her core for the first time in months.

She shrieked and squirmed when an errant raindrop plopped down the back of her neck, and the pair of them drew scowling looks of censorious disapproval from elderly Mrs. MacFarlane up the street when Gabe suddenly snatched Odessa around the middle and pulled her into an empty doorway just to kiss her silly.

He smiled between kisses as he pressed her up against the cold brickwork and she gasped when he rolled his hips once against hers before drawing back, only to return a second later to mouth and bite deliciously at her neck behind the curtain of her dark curls. “I love you,” he whispered, the words barely audible above the rain.

She kissed him back, and she watched his eyes roll closed with a deep, private groan. “What?” she asked.

He nosed at her temple and inhaled deeply, and his fingers tightened where they’d dropped to her hips. “I love the smell of you in the rain,” he rasped against her skin and Odessa blushed. “Can’t get enough of you.”

Joy suffused her expression and she laughed quietly, and it only doubled when she caught sight of Mrs. MacFarlane’s continued shock at their behaviour over Gabe’s shoulder. “I think we’re about to be reported for antisocial behaviour, Gabe,” she giggled in his ear, biting his earlobe and drawing a spontaneous, growling moan from him. That close up, he sounded like a motorbike when his inner wolf growled at her, and she adored it.

He did step back though, and when he turned around and spotted what Odessa was referring to, he laughed and waved jovially at the old woman, as though they hadn’t just been caught rutting against each other in a doorway like teenagers behind the bike sheds.

Mrs. MacFarlane pouted and shook her head as she trundled off in the opposite direction, and when Gabe turned back to Odessa she watched his eyes flare playfully from hazel to gold for a few seconds. “You know, I used to be a respectable member of this community til you came along?” he smirked.

“Corrupting the sweet woodland boy with my evil city ways,” she crooned. “Come on. Take me back home and you can have your way with me there instead.”

He held her hand as they trotted back to his truck through the rain, and he didn’t stop smiling the whole way home.

Appropriately enough, on her very last full day in Pinewatch, they awoke to rain sheeting out of the sky in torrents. After a morning feeling tense and caged and trapped in the house, feeling like they were just waiting for the hours to tick by until the sun set on her final day, Gabe suggested a distraction in town once more, and she practically leapt at it.

Gabe took her to a cute arts and crafts shop that had been closed until then, and in the back corner, she found an oil painting which drew her up short.

“Look,” she breathed, staring at the painting in her hands, and Gabe turned from where he’d been idly browsing some autumnal decorations a few feet away.

A slow-dawning, thousand-watt smile spread across his face when he saw the painting’s subject, and he came over to stand beside her. He kissed her temple and splayed his fingers across the small of her back in a private display of affection.

“It’s the rock where I first met Wolf,” she whispered, looking up at him with wide eyes. “Isn’t it? The one on the path behind the cabin?”

Gabe nodded.

Odessa didn’t think twice about it. She bought the painting.

It was only small, perhaps eight inches across, including the width of the dark, chunky, antiqued frame, but that only made it more magical and more intimate. The rounded boulder sat in a soft wash of warm sunlight, and the grass around it seemed to move and sway if she didn't look directly at it. It felt like looking into a camera obscura and glimpsing a moment in the past.

Sitting in the passenger seat of Gabe’s truck after a late lunch at Marco’s, while the rain still pounded relentlessly on the roof like a drum, she stared unseeing at the protective brown paper wrapping which was now spotted with raindrops. She ran her hands idly around the edges of the parcel, feeling the contours and details of the frame beneath her fingertips, and sighed expansively.

“Penny for your thoughts?” Gabe asked after climbing in and shutting the door with a gentle click. She got the impression he’d been looking at her for longer than she’d realised.

“Hmm?”

He smiled and her eye was caught by the soft, glinting light off the water droplets in his hair. It had gone curly in the rain, though not as wild as hers had. “I said, a penny for your thoughts?” he smiled.

“Oh.” Her gaze dropped back to the parcel and she sighed a second time. “I was just… I mean… looking at this is a bit like reliving the moment I found out about you,” she said. “About what you are, I mean. It’s… It’s like replaying the magic of it all over again.”

“Magic?” he said with a little snort of fond laughter. “You didn’t seem to think it was very magical at the time. The way I remember it, I scared the living shit out of you in the dark, and you nearly cracked your head open falling into the river.”

She had to laugh at that, but it petered out quickly. “No,” she said when she stopped. “You’re right, but… I didn’t mean it like that.”

Gabe sobered a little and asked a question with the tiniest shift in his eyes.

Odessa smiled at him again. “I just… I don’t really know how to explain it properly,” she huffed. “When I saw this painting, it reminded me of the moment I realised I’d found what I’ve been looking for my whole life, without even realising it — without… knowing what was even missing to start with, you know?”

You.

Gabe swallowed thickly and nodded. “Yeah,” he rasped and took her hand in his and squeezed. “I know.”

The short drive back to his house passed in silence; Odessa lost in thought as she cradled her new painting in her lap, and Gabe concentrating on the road while the rain thrashed down. “Hope this clears before you go back tomorrow,” he commented. “I don’t like the chances of your little VW on the roads round here.”

“I’ll be careful,” she said.

“I know.”

They raced inside but still ended up drenched, and Odessa left the painting on the dining table while Gabe went to run her a bath to warm her up. She draped her damp clothes over a radiator to dry them off and stepped into the steam of the bathroom a while later. Despite the gorgeously hot water though, she felt a lingering cold in her bones that had nothing to do with the grim weather of advancing autumn.

Gabe was still downstairs when she emerged from his en suite, and she began to dress herself mechanically, feeling oddly detached and stressed at the thought of leaving in the morning. Gabe came upstairs a few minutes later and found her sitting on the bed in just her jeans and her bra, staring listlessly at the floorboards with her t-shirt held limply in her hands.

Her crossed to her and when she looked dolefully up at him, he knelt between her legs and ran his hands up her thighs. “I know,” he said. “We’ll figure it out.”

She let her fingers rake through his wavy, salt and pepper hair, nails scraping deliciously over his scalp while he knelt with his head in her lap and his arms hugging her hips. The action calmed her a little, but her heart still thudded in her chest.

“You want me to shift?” he asked without looking up.

She paused. She did, but instead she just said, “Only if you want to.”

After a moment’s hesitation, he shook his head. “Not this close to a full moon shift, if I don’t have to.”

“Then don’t. This is more than enough.” And it was.

He kissed her thighs through her jeans and finally sat back on his heels. When he looked up at her, his eyes were gold. She motioned with her head for him to come and join her on the bed, and he slid his arm around her middle and tugged her down to lie on the covers with her back pressed against his stomach while he curled around her.

“Can I ask you about the full moon?” she ventured after a moment of just lying there in his arms while he breathed in the scent of her hair.

“Of course.”

Embarrassed, she prefaced her question with a quick huff of laughter. “Bear in mind I’ve only got movies and stuff to go on…”

Patient as ever, he just nodded.

“Does the full moon mean you have to shift? Does it affect you differently?”

He nodded a little, the movement brushing his nose through her curls. He drew her hair aside and kissed the nape of her neck before answering. “Yeah. We don’t shift uncontrollably, though,” he amended. “We can still remain human if we need to, but it’s right there — always a hair-trigger away. We’d have been wiped out a long time ago by hunters if we couldn’t stay hidden once every month if we really had to, and the wolves who live in the city would have a really hard time of it, but it’s just there,” he said again, and he curled the fingers of his left hand into a fist and flexed them again, like he was working stiffness out of his knuckle joints. “It makes us ache and itch and we don’t feel like we fit into our skin anymore. We become a lot more like our wolf selves too, mentally, even if we don’t shift.”

Odessa tried to hide a smile at that, but when he saw it over her shoulder, he hummed curiously and she let the smile become a giggle. “I’m not sure I can handle Human-Wolf-Gabe. You’ll just be too adorable.”

“I’ll be all over you like a rash,” he growled, and he didn’t sound exactly pleased about it. His usually sweet expression turned sour and he sighed. She turned onto her back and his hand traced the movement to land on her stomach instead. “I’ll be… not ‘possessive’ of you exactly, but I’ll want to touch you. A lot,” he said and he circled his palm absently over her stomach even as he said it. “And I won’t like it if someone comes near you if you’re not comfortable with it.”

“I’d hope you wouldn’t like that anyway,” she remarked dryly, remembering how he’d dealt with Jake that night when she’d felt threatened.

He tilted his head in a ‘point taken’ kind of way, and exhaled heavily. “I’ve kind of forgotten what it’s actually like to be around a wolf at the full moon though,” he muttered. “I usually shift once the sun sets, and spend the night in the woods, if I’m honest.”

“What about the dogs?”

“They stay here. They normally like running with me when I shift, but I’m not able to look out for them in the same way on the full moon. I’m not fully aware of everything in the same way.”

“When exactly is the full moon?”

“It’s… tomorrow night,” he said. His eyes were still bright gold and she wondered if he even realised.

Odessa glanced out of the window, where the dark pines around the edge of the clearing in front of his house danced and waved in the late afternoon rain that was still hurling itself from the flat, silver-grey sky. “Will you be ok?” she asked in a whisper. “I mean, I know you don’t lose control or anything, but…”

“I’m not going to run all the way to the city to find you,” he said with a wry smile at the corner of his lips and a kiss on her forehead. “If that’s what you’re thinking.”

She wasn’t about to admit that it had been.

“And you’re not going to wake up to a monstrous wolf at your door and animal control on the way.”

“Just checking,” she said, cheeks heating. “I guess I could stay? If it would be easier?”

Gabe seemed to give it serious thought, but eventually he shook his head. “No. I think it’s probably best if… if you’re not here this time. If that’s alright?”

“Of course it is,” she said, though she couldn’t help the slight sting of disappointment. Still, she’d experienced a lot of his wolf side in the two weeks she’d been with him, and he’d opened up a lot to a stranger already. “You’re the werewolf… it’s your call.”

He smiled and kissed her forehead. “You warmed up a bit now?”

She nodded. “Snuggling definitely helped.”

“Snuggling always helps,” he grinned, and yanked her right up against his body again. He started to scent her once more, and let out a long, low hum of satisfaction.

A few minutes later, Gabe’s ancient, indestructible Nokia buzzed to life on the bedside table behind him, the little blue brick of Stone Age technology vibrating obnoxiously, and both of them jumped and laughed. He rolled away with a reluctant grunt and read the message.

“Everything ok?”

“Mmm. Tala messaged,” he said. “Asking if we wanted to join a few people at the Boar and Hart tonight for dinner since it’s your last night.”

She swallowed and then nodded. It all felt terribly final again. “You’ll have to take me back to the cabin to change first,” she said. “These clothes are all crumpled after getting wet.”

“You look fine, but we can leave early and go via there.”

They still had hours until then, and what had started as tender, chaste affection soon stoked to a slow but white-hot passion. It began with Gabe running his hands up and down her torso, skimming the soft rolls around her belly and caressing her breasts over the soft, black fabric of her very ordinary bra, to him kneeling on the bed between her parted legs and kissing her inner thighs through her jeans while Odessa scraped her nails gently over the nape of his neck again. When Gabe undid the button of her jeans with careful precision, and drew down her underwear enough for him to kiss the dark hair right above her clit, he moaned and she lifted her hips.

He drew off her jeans and her underwear and she lay back again. Still kneeling, Gabe slid his palms under her thighs, cupping them and squeezing the muscle until she gasped and parted her legs even further for him. He laved his tongue over her and groaned as he tasted her. His nose nudged her clit as he slipped his tongue inside her, and when she gasped and tipped her head back into the pillows, he focused his tongue on her clit again and closed his lips around it in a way that had her crying out and shuddering.

After a while, Gabe sat back and drew off his grey t-shirt and ditched it on the floor, and Odessa drank in the sight of him; of his lean, lithe, outdoor body with its lingering tan lines from the summer and the sprinkling of greying hair across his chest; of the way he moved with all his wolfish focus still on her, as if his own body was merely an afterthought. He was fully hard when he returned to the bed beside her, but instead of letting him have his way with her, Odessa decided to enjoy him first.

She shook her head and smiled, turning her head towards the pillows beside her to get him to lie down next to her. Werewolves, she had quickly come to realise, were creatures that spoke as much with physical gesture as they did vocal language, and he understood immediately.

Lying on his back, with his hands quietly at his sides and his legs slightly parted, cock hard and already starting to weep clear pre-come onto his lower abs, Gabe lay there and stared golden-eyed at her, waiting to find out her will.

She ran her hands up his legs, feeling the way they shivered minutely under her touch, as though every cell in his body was attuned to her, and she let her thumbs trace the jutting outline of his hips. She cupped his balls in her warm palm and gripped the base of his cock briefly before working the shaft in her hand and groaning at just how hard he was for her. He thrust his head back into the pillows and let out an inhuman growl that filled the room and vibrated through her whole body, all the tendons in his neck and the muscles in his shoulders standing proud as he tensed and shivered and exhaled roughly.

“Love that sound, Gabe,” she whispered and it grew louder. “Yes, like that. Don’t hold it back. I want to hear you, Gabe.”

“Odessa,” he hissed between panting gasps.

“My wolf…”

His spine arched and one leg bent and drew up at the knee before he straightened it again, heel driving into the sheets and rucking up the duvet. He desperately wanted more but seemed just content enough for the time being to lie there and let her enjoy him. She loved him all the more for that just then.

Before she made him come from her hand alone, she leaned down over his torso and pressed her naked body flush against his, her breasts resting against his chest, her wet, burning core sliding along the hard length of him. Gabe’s self-control fractured just a little more and he grabbed her hips and kneaded the softness of her arse hard enough that it almost hurt, grinding her down against his hard cock for a little relief.

She kissed his collarbones and his pecs, and then brought both hands to the base of his skull and scrunched his hair, pulling it with unyielding slowness until he let out another sound that was halfway between a moan and a howl. He rutted his pelvis upwards, his hard cock sliding through her wetness, and he gasped her name again, pulling her as close to him as he could without actually being inside her yet.

They moved slowly, savouring the intensity of every motion, and before too long they were both out of breath.

“Oh God, Odessa,” he whimpered, showing thick canines as the shift started to creep over him. “I need you, please…”

“You have me,” she smiled, kissing him full on the mouth. Then she used his shoulders to push herself upright, and after one final, slick roll along the length of his cock, she sank down onto him.

The sound he made as he slid slowly into her tight heat struck her to the core and he curled his torso slowly up towards her, abs clenching, lost in how good she felt, eyes rolling back. “You’re perfect,” he hissed through clenched teeth. “God, Odessa, you’re everything. I can’t — I —”

She rose up before he could slide all the way inside her, and when she sank down again, he all but sobbed.

Taking her time, Odessa watched him unravel beneath her.

Sometimes his spine arched right off the bed, head pressing back into the pillows, while other times he curled upwards towards her, his hands caressing her breasts and then guiding her the motion of her hips until he fell back again, rendered weak and gasping as she tensed her muscles around him and rocked in a certain way that made his eyes flare brighter.

When he began to shake and snarl uncontrollably, she picked up her pace, leaning forward a little to brace one hand on his solid shoulder while she rocked and raised her hips. She felt the sharp prick of claws at her hips and on her thighs and looked up to find his lips drawn back to reveal thick canines. His silver-brown hairline crept a little further forward over his temples and his beard reached a little higher up his cheeks, and he swore.

Heaving growls filled the room, reverberating through her ribs.

“Odessa,” he said in a much deeper and rougher voice than usual. It felt almost primal as he growled, “I’m so close. Please, come with me… I —” He cut off, and his body bucked and shuddered again as pleasure and the need to shift warred inside him.

She realised he couldn’t properly touch her body without hurting her, his claws preventing him from making her come with his hands, and it was that which was driving him wild with frustration. A fond smile grew across her lips and she paused to lean down and kiss his forehead. He snarled at her, but it was mostly laughter, and she apologised for breaking the rhythm by clenching her muscles around him again and sinking as far down onto his cock as she could, grinding her hips in a decadent circle that made both of them gasp.

“Oh God, Odessa, please,” he begged, breathless and desperate.

“Take over for me?” she said, going still and bringing her fingertips to her aching, swollen clit while bracing up on her thighs to give him room to move beneath her. At the slick relief of her fingertips against her core, she moaned and Gabe immediately started to drive his hips up into her in a frantic rhythm.

He caught her just so with every upward thrust, and the snarling, animal, inhuman growls that poured out of him and filled the room only intensified her pleasure. Dizzy with how good it felt to be this close to him, she began to moan and cry out, her left hand still gripping his shoulder for balance and stability while he drove himself repeatedly upwards into her. “I’m going to come, Gabe,” she gasped, head bowing forwards, dark hair forming a curtain of curls over one shoulder. With a little effort, she pushed herself back on her hips to drive him deeper still.

“Close too,” he growled around a mouthful of fangs. “God you feel so good. You’re perfect. I love you, Odessa. I’m yours. I love you, I love you—” he chanted it over and over and then with a rictus snarl he drove up into her one last time and spilled with a muffled grunt.

She could feel his cock spurting and emptying inside her while his body rocked with the force of his orgasm, and with a final couple of nudges against her own clit, she spasmed around him with a broken yell that must have left his ears ringing.

Still coming, Gabe held her close, pulling her hips down onto his cock as if to keep her as near as physically possible for as long as he could. His jaw was clenched, his chest and neck flushed, and his forehead came up to meet her neck while he rocked and growled through his ongoing orgasm. His dark claws pricked into her flesh, only adding to the searing pleasure coursing through her whole body.

Odessa came so hard her vision whited out, but when she finally stopped twitching and moaning, she slumped down onto his chest and listened to his pounding heartbeat for a long time. His cock still occasionally pulsed inside her but his claws retreated and he began to run his fingertips up her sides and across her back, heedless of the sweat that stippled her spine and the little, skittering spasms that shivered through her.

When the wolf had retreated completely from his eyes, he opened them and gazed at her. “You alright?” he croaked.

“Mmmph,” she mumbled and kissed his neck.

A broken moan left him at the press of her lips against his hammering pulse and he resumed his quiet admiration of her body with gentle hands until he eventually began to soften, and she worried about making a mess on the relatively clean sheets. He tried to protest that it didn't matter, but she was having none of it, and eventually he let her get up.

Odessa — very deliberately — only cleaned up as much as necessary to be comfortable before she dressed again, and when she came back into the room and caught the way his nose lifted just a fraction while he sat on the edge of the bed, she smiled with calculated innocence.

He shook his head and smirked at her.

She crossed to him and stood between his parted knees, and held his face in her hands. His short beard was soft against her palms and she experienced an almost overwhelming wave of affection for him as he stared up at her and smiled.

“I love you too, Gabe,” she whispered, and then she kissed him.

Next Chapter -->

I wish you a joyous festive season, and if you don’t celebrate, I hope you have a warm and cosy day all the same. Thanks for reading this far in their story, and I hope that you’ll consider reblogging this as well as leaving a like if you enjoyed it.

Take care, and I hope you have a lovely day/night wherever you are, and whenever you read this.

Masterlist | Ko-fi (tip jar)

#gabe & odessa #werewolf #male werewolf #male werewolf x female character #werewolf boyfriend #exophilia #monster boyfriend #werewolf romance #shifter romance

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ummick · 4 months ago

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Mick Schumacher On F1 Exile: "It Has Been A Draining Few Years"

The son of F1 legend Michael Schumacher speaks to Kieran Jackson about his role as a Mercedes reserve driver, his deep desire to get back on the Formula 1 grid in 2025, and eyeing victory this weekend at the 24 Hours of Le Mans

The duties of a reserve driver in Formula 1 are unique, distinctive and unlike most back-ups in other sports. With the chances of a last-minute call-up to the cockpit extremely unlikely, you lead a life in the shadows; out of mind, but never fully out of sight. In Mick Schumacher’s case, he has been omnipresent in the F1 paddock for more than three years, but, to his detectible discontent, the last eighteen months have been without a race seat. "Fighting your way back is exhausting," Schumacher tells The Independent, in the familiar surroundings of the Mercedes motorhome. "You get this cake presented to you which is really good, but you're not allowed to eat it, and you have to watch everybody else eat it. So it's tough, for sure, but I know why I'm doing it."

Being the son of a seven-time world champion carries its own unusual burden. But the German, still something of a racing novice at the age of 25, wholeheartedly believes he is yet to be given a fair crack of the whip. His rookie year with Haas in 2021 was a write-off. Superior to teammate Nikita Mazepin, not finishing last was an achievement in one of the worst-performing cars in F1 history. His second year was where it all went wrong, however, finishing thirteen points behind the experienced Kevin Magnussen. But that wasn’t the issue; moreso, the expensive crashes which resulted in Netflix star Guenther Steiner losing patience and wielding the axe. Which brings us to now. Schumacher quickly accepted an olive branch from Mercedes boss Toto Wolff, with Schumacher Sr concluding his career at the Silver Arrows in 2012, and he now plays backup to Lewis Hamilton and George Russell. No chances as fortuitous as Ollie Bearman's in Saudi Arabia have come his way, though. "Frankly, the way I was two years ago has nothing to do with the person I am today," he insists. "F1 has been a dream I've had since I was five years old and I'm not ready to let go of that dream, right Sometimes you feel like you have a chance, then it actually never ends up happening because something else happens. It's been an emotional rollercoaster and a draining last few years, but I'm working my way back." Some would see the time away as an opportunity to rehabilitate and reset, but not Schumacher. One attribute that cannot be questioned is his commitment; he has barely missed a race in person and is regularly seen standing, headset on, dutifully listening to procedures next to Wolff in the garage.

That's the mantra when your life is "all about racing," and it is that hard-nosed, full-throttle attitude that sees him embark on the ultimate racing challenge this weekend: the prestigious 24 Hours of Le Mans event, driving for Alpine in their first year in endurance competition. "I'm very excited. I've got a huge amount of respect for it," says Schumacher, about an event which his father competed in before his F1 career started in 1991, finishing fifth. "It's going to be very little sleep, long driving times at night, and the testing has been tough so far. We're going for the win-that's the ultimate target-but if we're crossing the finish line after 25 hours I think we can be very proud, too, as this project was only set up eleven months ago. The turnaround has been very fast. But the mentality is to win because… why compete, otherwise?" Yet don't be fooled: a career in WEC is not at the forefront of his mind just yet. Because amid a flurry of driver changes ahead of the 2025 season and the fluctuating nature of the F1 driver market, Schumacher is desperate to carve a route back into the sport he loves. Alex Albon famously provided then-Williams CEO Jost Capito a racing CV in 2021 to sell his skills, littered with junior successes alongside F1 accomplishments. Could Schumacher, Formula 2 champion in 2020, do the same? "Maybe I will start writing my CV and send it to people!" he says. "It's never been a secret; my goal is to be back on the grid. I've shown in multiple ways that I am capable of winning championships. It's just a matter of it fitting into somebody's schedule - does it fit into their plan?" It won't be lost on him that Alpine, his WEC team, now have an F1 seat available in 2025, with Esteban Ocon departing at the end of this season. The French team look to be Schumacher's best option at this stage. A return to Haas seems unlikely, while forming an all-German partnership with Nico Hulkenberg at Sauber (soon to be Audi) also appears to be a long shot. And nobody is even mentioning him as a replacement for Hamilton at Mercedes, with Italian teenager Kimi Antonelli the favourite at this stage. But frankly, Schumacher won't care where. As he says, "any team is a valuable option," and, simply put, he just wants another invite to the twenty man party. "Theress a lot which hasn’t been seen yet, especially from a driving point of view," he says. "I understand how I could have improved [at Haas], and there's a lot more to show from my side. It's all about, what do you want in your team right now? Do you want somebody who you can build a team around? Good for marketing? Purely shut up and drive? There are so many different types of drivers. As for me, I'm really hungry for it. I just need to keep performing in WEC, showing everybody what I can do. Then people will know what they get if they hire me, and hopefully I'll be able to prove to everybody that they made the wrong decision in not keeping me."

#mick schumacher #f1 #formula 1 #wec #fic ref #fic ref 2024 #le mans #le mans 2024 #le mans 2024 day unknown #with lewis #with george

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startrekfangirl2233-writes · 10 months ago

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A Lawyer's Lament and Deep South Glass

Chapter Thirteen of Sweet Home Alabama

Jake ‘Hangman’ Seresin x OC (Linley Mitchell/Floyd), Bradley ‘Rooster’ Bradshaw x OC (Linley Mitchell/Floyd)

Description: Before you can blink, it's already days before your wedding. When you and Natasha fly back down to Pigeon Creek from New York, you're feeling worse about getting married than you ever thought you would have before. Seeing the advertisements for the company which made the glass you liked should be a nice change of pace. If only you knew what you'd see when you get there.

Meanwhile, in Birmingham, Reuben Fitch is finally seeing the ending to a divorce he's been working on for seven years. If only the bride had signed the papers as easily as the groom had. A trip down to Pigeon Creek sounds like a good idea. Now if only he could find Linley Mitchell there.

Themes: love, attraction, angst, sex, cheating, lying

Warnings: Carole being, Carole. She's a warning in and of herself!

Word Count: 3430

A/N: How are we already at chapter thirteen?! It feels like just yesterday I started writing this series and now it is almost over!

AO3: Cross-posted here!

Wattpad: Cross-posted here!

My Masterlist

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Reuben Fitch’s Office - Birmingham Alabama

Reuben Fitch is a damn good lawyer. He knows what his clients need and gets it for them. But there's one client he's been chasing after for seven years now. Linley Floyd's divorce is special. He's sent papers to her husband over fifteen times. Not once has he signed the papers and sent them over.

So when he walks into his office and sees a manila envelope on his desk with the return address marked at Pigeon Creek, Alabama, he's sure he's dreaming. Please let this be the end of this saga. Please let this be the end of the Mitchell-Seresin divorce.

“Maria?” Reuben's vibrating out of his skin as he yells for his paralegal.

“Can you pull the file for the Mitchell-Seresin divorce please?

“Did you finally get the papers, Mr. Fitch?” She sounds about as excited as he is. This is a big deal.

“Yes, Maria! I did!” He grabs his letter opener, kissing the end of the handle before he slits the envelope open.

There's a letter on the top of the stack.

Here's the papers finally signed, Mr. Fitch. I'm sorry they took so long.

Linley Mitchell

Reuben's heart is racing as he carefully separates the three divorce agreements over his desk. Of course he wants to smack his head, because terribly enough, there's only one set of signatures on each document. He could have sworn Linley Mitchell desperately wanted this divorce.

“I don't have eighteen days, forget eighteen months,” was what she'd said on the phone a week ago. So what the hell is she thinking sending her lawyer three divorce agreements where her husband has signed but she hasn't?! Reuben's getting hot under the collar as he calls her phone. But she doesn't pick up.

He calls her throughout the day, between meetings with other clients, even over lunch. But Linley Mitchell is not picking up the phone. At least he has a return address he can use? But what's the likelihood that Linley will sign the papers? So he does what he's known for. The next day, he takes a few days absence from work and tries to track his client down. First step is to drive to Pigeon Creek.

Pigeon Creek is a small town, picturesque in that deep South way. It’s a town surrounded by farmland, only a few miles away from the outskirts of Greenville. Unsurprisingly, he gets looks as he pulls into town, because he looks like he doesn’t belong. All he needs is for his client to sign the papers in his hand and he’s out of here. Main Street is small and dusty. There are small shops dotted on either side of the main thoroughfare, but surprisingly for a weekday morning, none are open. Only the diner is.

“Yes, sir. Can we help you?” It’s the sheriff, a man by the name of Garcia, who notices Reuben when he walks through the door.

“I’m looking for a Linley Floyd.” There’s something suspicious as the folks in the restaurant look back and forth at each other when he says his client’s nom de plume.

“Anybody here recognize that name?” There’s resounding silence at the Sheriff's question.

“What business do you have with her?” It’s the waitress, wearing a blue shirt, holding a carafe of coffee in one hand and a plate of delicious smelling fry-up in the other who asks that.

“I’m afraid I can’t say, Ma’am.” Reuben pulls out all of his manners, learned in the Carolina’s at his grandmother’s feet. “It’s a private matter.”

“Well, then,” She chuckles a little, holding the plate in front of her like a shield. “I’m afraid we can’t help you!”

So much for the folk of Pigeon Creek, Alabama being open and friendly. It’s as he steps out of the diner, just over the tinkling of the bell, that he hears, “Damned reporters. Like the first ant at a picnic.”

Why the hell didn’t he say he was her lawyer? It’s too late now, and those people aren’t likely to believe him anyway. He’ll just have to track down Linley the old fashioned way. Possibly by looking in a phone book?

Birmingham Airport, that same day

You’re completely exhausted when you get out of the plane at Birmingham Airport. You’ve got Tash with you, and at least one of you is happy. She’s chattering a mile a minute, bouncing on the soles of her patent pumps while you’re wearing a simple skirt and blouse combination with ballet flats on your aching feet. Your wedding dress is in a garment bag in your hands and you nod half-heartedly as Nat chatters on. The word ‘propose’ catches your attention.

“You remember the sheik?” You remember Tash’s fling with her sheik. It ended months ago, and you’re not sure why she’s mentioning him now.

“Yeah.”

“Well, he proposed to me, and I think I loved him, despite his billions.”

Your shock has you asking her the question on the tip of your tongue. “Why didn’t you say anything Tash?”

She shrugs as you walk onto the main concourse surrounded by all your fellow passengers. “Obviously, I didn’t say yes.”

“Why not?” Right now, you’re wondering a lot of things yourself. Chief being why you said yes to Bradley when he asked you to marry him. The love and affection you felt for him when he proposed seems to have dissipated into thin air. It doesn’t help that you’ve barely seen him since you both came back to New York. You know he’s been working hard, finishing up everything he possibly can before he whisks you off on your honeymoon. But a part of you can’t believe that he’s been too busy to even call you on the phone. You’ve spoken to him only once in the past three weeks - once. You live in the same city, he has a key to your apartment and you’ve only spoken to him once. In truth, you can’t blame him. After all, you have no way of knowing if the stresses of planning a quick wedding are getting to him like they’re getting to you. Though, you can probably agree that all of your stress is coming more from dealing with Carole than the actual wedding. But why would his stress cause him to shut you out?

“I hesitated long enough to realize that my head and my heart were saying two different things.” There’s a knowing look on Natasha’s face as she leads you towards baggage claim.

“It’s a big decision, after all.” Your voice is quiet as you navigate the crush of people.

“It’s supposed to be the easiest one you ever make. Wasn’t it, for you?” There’s a knowing look on her face as you wait for your bags.

But you see a advertisement for something that sounds very familiar. You tug Natasha to the pillar and point to the poster.

“Hey, Tash. This is it. This is the stuff I was telling you about.” You can’t resist staring at the gorgeous glass in the picture. Something about it is really familiar.

“Do you think we have time to stop by there and take a look?”

You grin and nod. “Yeah, we’re not expecting the Mayor and her entourage until tomorrow at Dad’s.”

Your rental car this time is a Jeep and you’ve got the top down as it screams down the highway. The volume is all the way up and you take turns belting the lyrics out as the car leaves Birmingham in the rear view mirror. The two of you drive for about an hour or so before turning off onto a long tree lined road. It smells like greenery, the air fresh and clean as the wind whistles through the trees and snatches at your hair. When the road turns into a wide parking lot you can hear the soft burbling of water, and you’re greeted with a sign proclaiming that you’ve reached the warehouse and showroom for Deep South Glass.

It’s a beautiful red sided barn with white trim and a sign proclaiming “Grand Opening Weekend” on the broadside. You have to cross a white footbridge to reach the building and there are quite a lot of people at the restaurant and walking into the showroom. It’s as you cross the river with Tash that you see a familiar yellow sea plane moored against a dock a little ways down the river.

“What’s the matter, Lin?” Tash notices when you stop dumbfounded in your tracks.

“Oh, my god.” What is Jake’s seaplane doing at Deep South Glass? Your mind churns at a mile a minute as you think over everything you learned the last time you were in Pigeon Creek. Jake’s surprisingly plush bank account. The way he’d blanched when you’d spruced up the house using that money. Dot’s teasing during the Catfish Festival. Was she trying to tell you that Jake owns Deep South Glass? Was this what he decided to do after you left for New York? Was this what he chased you to New York for? Did he mean to show you his glass - to convince you to come back to him?

“Do you know a Mo, Lin?” You’re shell-shocked, heart aching and thoughts whishing past at a mile a minute as you march right into the big showroom.

“Lin?” She calls out behind you, as she hastens her steps to catch up to you. Unsurprisingly, there are gorgeous glass bowls, goblets and statuary arrayed through the cavernous space. The entire room is exposed to the cool breeze via barn doors flung open on either side and the glass glistens and shimmers in the summer sunlight. Kaleidoscopes of rainbow splatter across the vista as the clear glass refracts the bright sunlight shining down on the displays from the high windows.

“These are incredible, Lin!” You turn and glance at the spiraling strands of glass on a stand in the center of the showroom. The particular statuette Natasha is looking at resembles a stag.

“That’s what happens to sand when it is struck by lightning.” There are five of these sculptures arranged on display. Each has a small placard indicating when and where the lightning struck to make them.

“There’s no way that’s how these statues were made, Lin!” Tasha sounds shocked as she examines the statue and its price tag.

“No, really. I’ve seen it.” You walk around to the other side of the display, looking at the gorgeous blown glass paperweights. “All you have to do is dig it up once the glass cools.”

How did he build this? When did he build this? Each piece of glass is a work of art in its own right. Deep South Glass is going to take Jake far. You’re so proud of him for finding his dreams like this.

You’re idly examining a set of crystal goblets when a small furry object makes snuffling contact with your ankles. You’re not surprised at all to see Bryant licking and nuzzling at your ankles, weaving around them in sheer puppy joy with every step you take. You gather the puppy up into your arms and snuggle him close, giggling as he licks your face with broad swipes of his tongue. He smells like puppy and like Jake’s cologne. His little body is wriggly and warm as his tail wags with wild abandon, thwacking against your purse with every wriggle.

Tash makes a beeline to you the moment you have the puppy in your arms, her voice going high pitched and sweet as she pets Bryant until his front paws are on your shoulder as he attacks her hands with kisses.

“Is this cute little guy a friend of yours, Lin?”

“Something like that. This is Bryant and he’s…” You’re sure you mean to say something else, but that’s when Jake makes his way down the stairs in the corner of the store room. You’re sure there must be offices or conference rooms up there, but you could care less. The sun glints off of his golden hair and seems to sparkle in his green eyes. There’s stubble across his cheeks and his lips are pink and chapped. He's wearing an orange henley and worn jeans with work boots on his feet, and you're sure all the women in the room are staring right at him. You are, after all. Tasha inhales deeply at your shoulder as she stops trying to get Bryant’s attention because it’s on his dad just as much as yours is.

“Lin, I saw him first.” You ignore the hunger in her voice as you walk in a trance towards Jake. Bryant is just as eager as you are, wriggling more and more as he sees his dad walk towards him. You set the puppy down at the foot of the stairs, smiling despite yourself as he dances around Jake’s feet. Jake looks unexpectedly grim to see you here.

“I um..” You're tongue-tied in his presence for the first time in the decades you've known Jake Seresin. “I really like what you've done with this place. It's beautiful, Jake. Truly, it is.”

“Thanks, Linley.” There are slight bags under his eyes and his usually easy grin is strained and somber as he looks at you. The entire storeroom seems to go silent around you as you stare into his eyes.

“I tried to call you a couple of times.” He hums, looking out over the bustling showroom.

“Listen, since you're here, Lin, you and your friend should look around. Take in the sights, buy some glass. And hey, stop by the patio and have some lunch. Our chef's award winning and I guarantee it will be a meal you don't want to miss.”

When he turns around and walks away, you feel your heart splinter into shards of ruby glass, refracting pain through your being. But Bryant stays behind, content to lean against your ankles with his little tail whipping up a frenzy. Jake obviously realizes as much when he stops a few steps away and turns around.

“Bryant. Come on. Let's leave the lady and her friend alone. Come on, boy.” Bryant leaves you at the behest of his dad then, leveling liquid-brown sorrowful puppy eyes at you, whimpering balefully as he walks away. You wish he didn't have to go. You wish Jake didn't have to go. But he does, and he did. You manage to stave off Tasha’s questions until you’re back in the car clutching a small bag holding a pair of crystalline blue earrings.

“Who was that?” There is naked curiousity in her voice as she glances through the side view mirror as the barn disappears with a bend in the road. “He’s gorgeous, Lin. Are all of the men in Pigeon Creek that beautiful?”

You snort despite yourself, thinking back on your circle of friends. Honestly the only men you’d classify as gorgeous other than Jake are Mickey and Bob. Mickey’s completely off the market, you muse as you drive, but Bob, maybe he’ll hit it off with Tash this week?

“He’s just a friend, Tash.” You indicate and switch lanes, getting out from behind a slower car in the lane.

“If all my friends looked at me the way that man looked at you back there, I’d never leave my bed.” You snort, because there’s no way he still looks at you like he wants you. There’s no way.

“He’s just a friend, Tash.” You ignore her grumbles as you focus on the road. “Anyways, we have worse things to worry about! Like the fact that Carole Fucking Bradshaw is going to be in my dad’s house. And the fact that she hates him because he served with her late husband.”

“Wait, your dad served with Goose Bradshaw?” You have to grimace at the pitch her voice rises to.

“Did I not tell you that?”

“No, no you did not! When did you find out?” You fill her in on the Mitchell-Bradshaw drama on the drive to Pigeon Creek.

Thankfully, she agrees to keeping the peace between Carole and your dad and Bradley and your dad. You’re still full of nerves the next morning as you clean up your bedroom, putting away your awards and trophies from your childhood bedroom just in case Carole decides to peek in. Tasha’s sprawled out on your bed as you fret and tidy to stave off your anxiety.

“This is one of those disasters waiting to happen.” You’ve got a headache coming on as you fret and worry. “You know, one of the big ones that only cockroaches survive?”

“You’re worrying about nothing, Linley. Everything is going to be fine.” Despite Tasha’s certainty, you’re still worried. You’ve checked on the pitcher of sweet tea in the fridge four times, and polished the crystal glasses inherited from your great grandmother three more times when you hear cars pull up. Unsurprisingly, it’s not just Bradley and Carole getting out of the car. The familiar form of Beau Simpson unfolds himself out from the driver’s seat and you can’t resist leveling a glare at him as he strides over to his boss. There are also four armed guards. This is Alabama and she’s here for her son’s wedding! What does Carole think is going to happen to her? A political assasination would only be too kind for her, you think snarkily.

The evil witch herself looks less than pleased to see how modest your home is as she clings to her son’s arm. Her nose is wrinkled like she’s smelled something horrible, and maybe it’s the earthy scent of Alabaman dust that’s set her off? You’ve smelt worse on the streets of New York, but it’s probably been a decade at least since the Honorable Carole Bradshaw actually walked the streets of New York. Surely Bradley warned her about how small and rural Pigeon Creek was? To his credit, Bradley at least smiles sweetly at you as he walks up, ignoring his mother’s mumbling about the mosquitos. She should have expected it. You’re in Alabama, not Alaska. Mosquitos are perfectly normal here.

Your dad is smiling stiltedly as he stands next to you on the front porch, wearing his best shirt and yanking at his collar like it’s itching him.

“Pete.”

“Carole.”

Well, they’re off to a great start, aren’t they. You kiss Bradley’s cheek in greeting and turn to Carole.

“It’s so nice to have you here, Carole.” Her smile softens a little at the sight of your face and the sincerity in your voice, but shortly afterward you’re bundled into the most uncomfortable, unmotherly hug of your life. “I’m sorry the place is such a mess.”

She demurs, just a little, and for a few seconds more, the four of you make an awkward quadrangle in the front yard with Beau Simpson and the armed guards looming in the background.

“C’mon in, please. I’ve got drinks in the kitchen, and some light aperitifs. We’ve even got some fried pickles if you want them.” You’ve never seen Pete Mitchell so uncomfortable as he is when he stumbles over the word aperitif. But you don’t call him out on it, choosing instead to present Carole with your arm and lead her into the house. Seeing the house through her eyes, you would have sworn you’d be embarrassed. But your last visit to Pigeon Creek had shown you differently. This house may not be as fancy or sterile as the Mayor’s mansion or Bradley’s colossal penthouse in New York, but it’s home. Every inch is lived-in and suffused with history - your history, your family’s history. It’s a home neither of the Bradshaws have ever seen before.

“Thank you for setting this up, sweetheart.” Bradley whispers those words against your temple as your dad and Tasha get their dos and don’ts for the wedding. “They needed to have this conversation sometime before we got married, if only to prevent a meltdown from your dad at the altar.”

He’s smiling as he says the words, but in truth, you’re not sure that the meltdown would be your dad’s fault. He’s been acquiescing to everything Carole’s requested since she sat down on the couch and started ordering him around. He just wants you to be happy. You wish you could say the same for Carole. Even the arm Bradley has around you feels stifling and wrong. You’re a bundle of nerves and it’s got nothing to do with the wedding. Everything feels off, like there is something missing, but you can’t figure out what it is.

I DO NOT CONSENT TO HAVE MY WORK POSTED, TRANSLATED, OR PUBLISHED ON ANY SITES OTHER THAN ON AO3, ON WATTPAD, OR ON TUMBLR BY ME. IF YOU SEE MY WORKS ANYWHERE OTHER THAN HERE, ON WATTPAD, OR TUMBLR, THEN THEY HAVE BEEN POSTED WITHOUT MY PERMISSION AND I WILL BE WORKING TO TAKE THEM DOWN.

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