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#and despaired at not being able to marry the person she had seen maybe three times up to that point but was sure was the love of her life
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I remember when I was 11-12 and reading the Georgia Nicholson books, my favourite series at the time besides Harry Potter, and thinking there's NO WAY I’m going to be that silly when I’m a teen because I’m just too smart and sophisticated and cool (incidentally, all the things Georgia imagined herself to be) -- fast forward to 2021 and my almost 29-year-old self finding a diary from when I was 16 with the entry: "In my next life I want to be a monkey. They don't have skin problems, as they're simply very hairy. But a pampered monkey." which is PEAK GEORGIA NICHOLSON
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katymacsupernatural · 3 years
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Not My Reality Final
Jensen Ackles x Reader
Story Summary: Y/N wakes up in a nightmare. Is it her new reality, or can she figure out how to fix it. How can she get pack to her husband Jensen?
Catch Up Here: Part 1, Part 2, Part 3
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Rain began to fall about two hours outside of Lawrence. Heavy, torrential rain quickly covered the road and made it hard to see. The SUV’s windshield wipers could barely keep up with the downpour. 
Everyone was quiet in the vehicle while Jensen’s full focus was keeping the SUV on the road. Lightning flashed in the sky, lighting up the surrounding landscape quickly before turning pitch black once again. Thunder quickly followed, loud enough to shake the glass windows.
“I’m not sure if we should keep going,” Jensen muttered, his shoulders tense, his energy drink forgotten beside him as he fought to keep the SUV from sliding off the road. “This storm is ridiculous.”
As much as you wanted to keep going, you had to agree with him. This storm was dangerous, and it wasn’t worth putting you at risk. But you had no idea where you were exactly, or if there was anywhere safe enough to pull over. 
“Any idea where we are?” Jared asked, holding his phone up. “I’ve got no service.”
Jensen tossed his phone to Jared, who shook his head. “No service. No idea where we are. I guess we just go slow.” 
He had the SUV going at a snail’s pace, but it still fishtailed on the flooded road. Lightning flashed over the car, thunder immediately following. This was the worst storm you had ever been in, and you couldn’t help but be a little scared.
Jensen was a talented driver, but you could tell this storm was affecting him also. His jaw was clenched as he glanced over to Jared again. “How far away from Lawrence do you think we are?”
For a moment, it felt as if you were once again back in an episode of Supernatural. Jensen manning the steering wheel as Dean, Jared giving directions, sitting in the passenger seat. Your character, in her spot in the backseat. If only this was the Impala and not the SUV.
“I have no idea. Maybe half an hour or so.” Jared didn’t seem very convinced about his answer.
The air inside and out of the SUV was charged with electricity. The hair on your arms stood straight up, your heart starting to race. Your vision started to blur, and you called out to Jensen, not liking what was going on. “Jensen, please,” you pleaded, feeling as if your heart wanted to beat right out of your chest.
“Y/N, I’m a little busy keeping us on the road. Can’t it wait,” he muttered, not even glancing back. Jared turned as you leaned forward, his eyes widening. 
“Y/N are you feeling okay?” He asked as another flash of thunder filled the car. “You’re as pale as a ghost.”
Shaking your head, you tried unbuckling your car, but your arm refused to move. “I don’t know what’s happening to me, but I’m scared.”
“Damn it,” Jensen exclaimed, suddenly pulling over and stopping the car. “What is it?”
Turning the cab lights on, his mouth opened and shut. Speechless. “What is it?” You asked. “Why can’t I feel my arms?”
“I can’t see them,” he whispered. “Y/N, you’re turning translucent.”
Peering down, you could see the seat straight through where your arm had just been. Terrified, you turned your attention back to Jensen. “What’s going on?”
“Maybe you’re going home,” Jared suggested. “Maybe this a good thing.”
That did put a smile to your face. “I hope so. I’m ready to see my Jensen.”
Turning in his seat, Jensen started to reach out when he remembered he couldn’t grasp your hand. “I know that your Jensen is really lucky to have you. I wish you all the best.”
With tears in your eyes, you gave in to the energy flowing through your system. Closing your eyes, you felt yourself drift away. Seconds ticked by before the weight of your body had you opening your eyes.
Two pairs of eyes stared at you. Beautiful hazel eyes shadowed by a long flop of hair. Then the familiar pine green eyes that you loved so much. Full of so much confusion. “Jensen? Is that really you?”
“Jensen? What the hell,” he muttered, his voice so much deeper, gravelly than normal. As your nerves settled slightly, you could notice the maroon flannel shirt he was wearing, the black t-shirt underneath. You were no longer in the SUV, and the sounds of the storm were no longer hurting your ears. 
“Where am I?” You asked, completely dismayed. Here you had been hoping to find yourself back in your Vancouver apartment.
“Emma, are  you okay?” They both asked again, using your character’s name.  Instead of answering, you stared past them, noticing the familiar design of the Bunker. The bookcases were completely full of empty texts. The prop knives and materials placed on top. You were sitting at one of the wooden tables. 
Cautiously peering up, you were expecting to see the open ceiling, the lights, and the bars of the sound stage. Instead, you were met with smooth plaster ceilings, completely meshed with the walls. “Not again,” you whispered, tears filling your eyes as your hopes dashed. 
Who you had thought of as Jensen, but was Dean, came crouching even closer, rubbing the back of his hand against your cheek. “Emma sweetheart, you look as if you’ve seen a ghost. Please, tell me. What’s wrong?”
Hastily brushing away tears, you gave him a slight smile. “You probably wouldn’t believe me if I told you.”
“Try us,” Sam answered, scooting his chair closer. 
“I’m not Emma!” You blurted out. “My name is Y/N, and I play Emma. I’m married to Jensen. My Jensen and not that other one. But I was torn from my Jensen, tossed to the other Jensen, only to be thrown here. I have no idea what’s going on, I just know that I’m so tired. Of it, and of everything. I just want to go to sleep, and wake up and have everything be okay.”
Tears streamed down your face. Tears of frustration and despair. Of heartache and fear. Fear that you would never see your Jensen again. Or your house and the life you had made.
Dean pulled you into his arms, and while it wasn’t exactly the same as Jensen’s, it was still comforting. “Slow down, tell us everything.”
So you did. About your marriage to Jensen, and how everything had been perfect before being pulled away and thrown into utter chaos. You told him about somehow waking up in Austin, and finding out the person you were there was utterly horrible. You told them about driving towards Lawrence and the storm, and how you had slowly disappeared before Jared and Jensen’s eyes.
“Why don’t you go lay down and try to relax?” Dean suggested, eyeing his brother cautiously. “We’ll figure things out, I promise.”
Nodding, you let him guide you out of the library, and down the hallway. A hallway you had walked so many times before. But not as yourself, but as Emma. It felt so much different now. Slightly chilly, the marble tile cool and real under your fingers. “You can sleep in here for right now,” Dean guided you into his bedroom. Reaching into one of the drawers, he pulled out a ratty T-shirt and shorts. What your character normally wore to bed. “I’ll be back to talk in a little bit.”
Smiling at him, you clutched the clothes as he quietly shut the door behind him. 
The bed smelled of Dean, a deep musk mixed with gunpowder and whiskey. It was a mixture that you had always loved. Breathing deeply, you snuggled in, the scent lulling you to a much-needed sleep.
“We need to tell her,” you heard hush arguing as you slowly woke up. “She deserves to know.”
“Yeah, that’s a great awakening,” Dean muttered sarcastically. “But I do agree that she needs to know. Speaking of which, have you heard from Emma? It would be pretty awkward for her to show up, and see another version of herself sitting here.”
“No, nothing. It’s not like her to stay this quiet,” Sam answered. “You don’t think…,”
You opened your eyes to see both brothers in the corner of the room standing close together as they tried to whisper. “I don’t know what to think!” Dean raised his voice, glancing at you to see that you were awake.
“What are you talking about?” You yawned. “Is everything okay?”
Sam patted Dean on the shoulder. “I’ll leave this one up to you.”
He left the room, and Dean slowly came to stand by the bed while you slid up to a sitting position. “Can I sit?” He asked, nervously tugging on the red and grey plaid he had changed into. Nodding, you scooted your legs up, giving him room to sit on the comfortable mattress. “Is it about Emma? Is she okay?”
“We’re not sure,” he answered, his green eyes searched your face. “But that’s not our biggest problem.”
You could feel nervous energy settle through your system as you waited for the bad news to fall. It had to be bad news, that was the only reason he would be this unsure. You stayed quiet, waiting for him to talk, not sure if you wanted to hear anything. 
“This is the third reality you’ve been in,” he started. “Your original one, then the one with another Jensen and Jared. And finally, this one. Each place being an alternate reality of what Sam and I believe is this one.”
“That makes sense, I think,” you were having trouble wrapping your mind around it. “But…,”
He held up his hand and you let him continue. “We’re not sure why you’ve been transported between the three. Why you, and no one else. We’re also not sure if Emma switched places with you. We haven’t been able to get a hold of her for a good 36 hours now. And that’s not a good sign.”
You could see how that news was heartbreaking to him. Instinctively you reached out, threading your fingers through his. “This is what we do know,” his stared straight into your eyes as he continued. “Chuck is super annoyed with us right now.”
“Chuck?”
“I’m not sure what episode of our lives your filming,” he muttered sarcastically. “But here Chuck is now the big bad guy. Killing people, ruining everything. And right now, he is destroying things. Entire worlds.”
“Entire realities?” You gulped. “Including mine.”
“That’s what we’re thinking,” he answered softly. “I’m so sorry Y/N. I know that’s not the news you were hoping for.”
A tear slipped down your cheek, another one quickly joining. “And my Jensen?”
The pained smile on his face was all the answer you needed. Tears streamed down your face, your entire heart shattering in an instant. Dean pulled you into his arms, giving you as much comfort as he was taking for himself. “Do you think he’s dead?” You asked, sniffling. 
“I believe so,” he answered. “Chuck wasn’t gentle. And as much as it hurts now, there has to be a reason you were saved.”
You rested your hand on your belly, Dean’s gaze following it before his eyes widened. “Maybe that’s the reason.”
Dean/Jensen Tags: @acortez82​ @acreativelydifferentlove​ @adoptdontshoppets​ @a-girl-who-loves-disney​ @akshi8278​   @bi-danvers0  @cap-just-said-language​ @colette2537​   @deansgirl215​  @flamencodiva​ @hamiltrash1411​ @its-not-a-tulpa​ @jerkbitchidjitassbutt​ @justanotherwinchester​ @just-another-winchester​ @karouwinchester​ @keikoraventeller​  @krys198478 @librarygeekery​ @magssteenkamp​ @misspygmypie​ @mlovesstories​ @mrsambroserollinsacklesmgk​  @mrspeacem1nusone​ @nothinbuttrouble2​ @ria132love​ @ruprecht0420​  @screechingartisancashbailiff​   @sortaathief​ @superseejay721517​ @squirrelnotsam​ @team-free-will-you-idjiot​ @thing-you-do-with-that-thing​ @thoughts-and-funnies​ @torn-and-frayed​ @tricksterdean​ @wonderfulworldofwinchester​ @woodworthti666​ @beabutterfly987​ @pink-sparkly-witch​ @sexyvixen7​ @alwaysananglophile @supernatural3002​
Not My Reality Tags: @infinityspaceuniverse @supernatural3002 @dean-winchesters-gardian-angel @thevelvetseries @lexeeehhh @erule
Forever Tags: @aditimukul @alexwinchester23 @algudaodoce03-blog @amanda-teaches @andreaaalove   @artisticpoet @atc74 @be-amaziing @camelotandastronauts @caswinchester2000 @cpag7 @chelsea072498  @closetspngirl @deanwanddamons @caswinchester2000 @emoryhemsworth @ericaprice2008  @esoltis280   @tatted-trina6 @foxyjwls007 @gh0stgurl @goldenolaf25 @growningupgeek  @heartislubbingdubbing @heyitscam99 @hobby27 @horsegirly99blog @imsuperawkward @internationalmusicteacher @iwriteaboutdean  @jayankles @jensen-gal @justsomedreaming @just-another-busyfangirl @karlee-fay-my-wayward-son @linki-locks11 @littleblue5mcdork  @lowlyapprentice   @mersuperwholocked-lowlife @mogaruke @monkeymcpoopoo @musiclovinchic93  @nanie5   @percussiongirl2017 @plaid-lover-bay25   @roonyxx @ronja-uebrick @roxyspearing  @samanddeanmyheroes @sandlee44 @shamelesslydean @simonsbluee @sillesworldofwriting @sgarrett49 @spnbaby-67 @spn-dean-and-sam-winchester @spnwoman   @superbadassnatural @thatcrazybookwormgeek   @thewinchesterchronicles​ @valsworldofcreativity @vvinch3st3r  @whimsicalrobots @winchester-writes​ @zombiewerewolfqueen
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Daphne+ simon
okay this took me way too long and i apologize! i could seem to find the right theme for them but must admit i had fun writing this one.
so here it goes, a little snippet into simon and daphne's life
As most things in Daphne’s life, it all started with a conversation with her siblings. While she didn’t exactly have many complaints regarding her life as a married woman, she had to admit that she missed the loud family at Bridgerton House. The multiple conversations going at once, the having to make sure Colin was the last one to get to the food or else no one after him would get to indulge in that dish, the ongoing antagonizing game between her youngest siblings, the yelling from across the table, the savage teasing paired with the sarcastic and always on point snarky comments coming from Francesca and Eloise’s witty remarks.
Speaking of Eloise, she was the sole culprit. Well, her and Hyacinth.
Ever since Amelia had been born she had been the centre of every conversation around the dinner table whenever the Bassets had enough energy to put on semi-decent clothes and drive all the way down to Violet’s house. Having a baby was exhausting. Daphne was slightly surprised she had never quite realized how much work babies were considering she had seen her parents go through the same four times. But Amelia was older enough for the hype to have died now and the Bridgerton brand of chaos was slowly returning to the table.
It had started innocently enough. A casual comment about how they barely saw Daphne anymore. Then someone had mentioned that she was probably too busy with the baby. And then it happened. Eloise had leaned back in her seat with a huff, shrugging one shoulder before very solemnly looking at her sister.
“Daphne is no longer fun.”
That seemed to catch everyone’s attention as all conversations died down and the room suddenly grew quiet. Eight pairs of heads turned to look at her. Daphne raised her eyes from her plate, stared at the eight pairs of wide, expectant eyes and pulled her shoulders up into a casual shrug. A dismissive wave of her hand before focusing back on her food sealed her half-decent performance at pretending to not be bothered by it.
“Hey leave Daff alone, she is busy!” Between mouthful and mouthful of food, Colin tried his best to defend his sister. He had a special bond with Daphne and had decided a long time ago that the only person allowed to tease her was, in fact, him.
“Busy being boring,” added one of the younger voices from across the table. Eloise chuckled, pleased, and high-fived the youngest of the clan.
Colin tsked his tongue. “At least she is doing something with her life!”
“I am eleven, Colin.” There was so much resignation in her voice that the room erupted in laughter.
“You are one to talk about wasting your life away,” Anthony mumbled pointedly, biting down a smile.
With an air of resignation to it, Colin let his fork fall against the wooden surface of the very old, very expensive family’s table. The action earned him a cautious look from his mother. “I have a career! I have fans!” At this point he was waving his hands in the air with indignation. “You just love to antagonize me!! Why are you not telling Benedict to go take a shower? He hasn’t showered in three days. He stinks!”
“Me and my body odor would very much like to be left out of this conversation, thank you.”
“Suspicious that you know that, Colin,” Francesca interjected, leaning on her elbows as she looked intently at him.
“Yeah, Colin. Do you keep track of our hygiene routines?” Unable to resist having a go at the easiest to rile up Bridgerton, Eloise joined in the fun.
“I bet that’s why he has so many journals....” Of course, Hyacinth had to get her revenge.
Colin’s ears turned red. He tossed his head to the side and then, in what could be described as the most immature move in men’s recent history, stuck his tongue out at his younger sisters while making funny faces.
The rest of the night went by without any other major conflicts. No one seemed to notice that Daphne had remained quiet for the rest of the evening. Or if they did, nobody dared point it out.
Simon, however, noticed.
He always paid attention to her. Even when seemingly he was entranced by some other activity, a part of him was always watching over her. Not in a creepy or possessive way, no. Just in a… in a need her around way. Daphne was his anchor. Her presence brought him a peace and calm he had never known were possible let alone imagine himself craving. She and Amelia were his whole world and it was only fair to take care of the two more important people in his life. He watched over her to make sure she was okay, to give back a bit of all she had given him.
Simon knew his wife. And knew that when she was silent for so long it could only mean a thing; something was bothering her.
“Princess.” His hand found her thigh and gave the softest of squeezes to it when she didn’t address him. Hopefully, it would make her turn to look at him. There was only so much he could do when his whole attention was supposed to be on the road.
“Huh?” Daphne seemed a little startled to hear his voice, as if she had just been shaken out of a reverie. On any other occasion, the look of bewilderment on her soft features would have made him chuckle. But the worry was starting to set at the bottom of his stomach.
“What is going on in that mind of yours?” His voice was cautious, soft, as if he was taking to a wounded animal.
Daphne pulled her shoulders up only to let them fall back into place. “Nothing.”
Simon opened his mouth to talk but Daphne beat him to it.
“Do you think we are boring?” The despair in her eyes made his stomach churn. He had to ponder it a second before giving her an answer.
“We are not boring,” he sent her a quick glance before returning to the road. “I know we have barely left the house since Amelia was born but that doesn’t make us boring.” It sounded bad even to his own ears. The groan his wife produced confirmed his suspicions. He chuckled. “Okay, maybe we are a bit boring.” She huffed and he laughed loud. Amelia protested in the back and he was reminded that his baby didn’t appreciate noise when she slept. “But we can change that, okay? Let’s go out this weekend. I’m sure your mom won’t mind keeping Lia for a couple hours.”
Daphne’s whole face lit up. “Really?”
He nodded. “Really.”
Violet was delighted to spend some quality alone time with her first grandbaby. But it turned out Daphne and Simon were a bit more hesitant about leaving their baby with her grandmother than either of them had anticipated. As excited as Simon had been all week about the prospect of going on a date with Daphne, as soon as he woke up that morning a strange pressure had settled in his chest. And as the time to leave came closer, it became more and more suffocating. His whole world had revolved around Amelia for months. She was his last thought before falling asleep and the first thought in the morning. He had taken paternity leave under the premise that Daphne needed help but the truth was that he could not fathom being away from his baby. And now that was exactly what he was about to do; willingly spend time away from his daughter.
“I don’t want to see you before midnight,” Violet warned, practically pushing them out of the door of their very own house, Amelia secluded to her hip, happily sucking on her thumb. “Amelia and I will be fine. I raised eight babies and most of them turned out fine.”
Simon sighed. His mother in law was right. They could do this. They had to do this. They needed time for themselves.
“Be good to your grandma, eh,” he placed a sweet kiss on the top of the baby’s head, taking in her scent before moving to kiss Violet on the cheek. “Thank you so much, Violet.” With his arm wrapped around his wife’s waist, Simon watched as she said her own goodbyes to their baby before gently dragging her away when it became evident they would miss their reservation if they didn’t get going soon.
Daphne’s eyes were clouded with tears by the time they got to their car.
“She is going to be just fine,” he tried to reassure her even if he himself wasn’t very convinced.
Daphne nodded, sniffing her nose loudly. “But will we?”
Simon didn’t have an answer for that but he really hoped it was a yes.
Ten minutes into their date and they had already called Violet twice. It was funny how they had become those parents. Especially Simon, who had never cared to picture himself as a dad. Prior to Daphne the life that waited ahead of him was pretty lonely. Hedonistic, yes, but lonely. Filled with parties and luxuries but always an empty house and cold bed awaiting him once his bacchanals were over. Ever since his wife had prompted him the question of if they were bored, Simon had not been able to stop thinking about it. A few months ago no one would have dared call Simon Basset any variant of the word boring and now all he wanted to do was spend his afternoons cuddling his wife and baby on their blue couch. The long nights out, getting drunk and taking strangers back home seemed like something a different man had enjoyed. The thrill he used to feel now turned to disbelief that he had convinced himself that life was enough for him. Now, he looked forward to bath time, to nap time, to any and all those special moments he planned on sharing with his baby. Because he was going to be present in every step. He refused to be half a dad. He refused to only be there for the good, easy parts of fatherhood and let Daphne bear with the weight of raising their children. And oddly enough, he was fine with that. He was content with his life, happy, enraptured. Even if that meant having to endure being called a bore by his new found family.
They called Violet one last time before being escorted to their table. She hung on them, threatening to turn her phone off if she received one more call before they were done with dessert. They looked at each other surprised and then laughed.
“This is weird,” Daphne commented, hiding her face behind the glass of wine for a brief moment. “We are here without Amelia and I miss her but I am also having fun.” As if suddenly a thought had struck her, she froze in place, furrowed her brows and frowned. “Are we terrible parents?”
Simon laughed, shaking his head. He reached for her hand across the table and laced their fingers. “We are great parents. Great parents also enjoy some adult fun.” That mischievous expression she had come to know so well framing his features.
Daphne sighed, feeling the thrill of the unknown starting to bubble up in her stomach. “Adult fun?”
Slowly, Simon nodded, eyes burning into hers.
“Wh-what are you thinking?”
He looked around them and then leaned forward, urging her to do the same. “Do you want to do something bold?”
Daphne nodded. Simon grinned.
“On the count of three, we run.”
Her eyes grew wide with shock but a devilish grin spread across her face. She nodded, eyes shining with excitement. The wine in her veins making her bold.
“One, two...three!!!”
Simon held his hand out to her grinning like an idiot, Daphne took it with a smile so big it rivaled the sun and together they stormed off the elegant restaurant, laughing and screaming, the manager hot on their heels. They ran and ran and ran until they were sure no one was chasing them. Breathless, they took refuge in a deserted alley.
“I can’t believe we just did that!”
Adrenaline rushing down their bodies, they looked at each other for a long second before their mouths crashed one against the other in a hungry kiss.
The next morning Simon dropped by the restaurant to pay for their food. He left a very generous tip.
Nine months later, they welcomed Belinda Basset into the world.
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marmolady · 3 years
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Livita: Part Two
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Book/Series: Endless Summer
Main Pairings: Estela x MC/Taylor (f)
Summary: Post-ending. Freed from Vaanu, Taylor has been building a life with her soulmate… but their family remains not quite complete. Read PART ONE and PART THREE.
Word Count: 3545
Reviews and reblogs are hugely appreciated!
Tagging: @sceptilemasterr​ @saivilo​ @greengroove 
San Trobida, March 2023
 The months initially dragged by; the nervous wait for those vital early milestones agonising. Life had taught Estela that nothing good ever came easily; at any moment this could all turn to tragedy-- she woke up each morning with no expectation that she wouldn’t have lost the baby by the next. Taylor was far more secure in her optimism, though at times it did threaten to crumble. Some five weeks in, the pair were married, officially, in the grounds of Catalyst International’s new San Trobidan resort, surrounded, of course, by their extended family. At the end of the night, Estela had said ‘screw you’ to fate, and confided her condition to her tio, who had wept with joy. His belief in her, the support unyielding as always, did wonders to help her through those most vulnerable days.
After the twelve week scan, there was a joint exhale of relief, and the reality that this was happening at last began to set in. Through those early months, home was San Trobida with Tio Nicolas. In time, Estela and Taylor would return to La Huerta, where they had always planned to raise their child, close to Aleister and Grace’s own little family, and to Diego and Varyyn. Estela would not be fit to travel for a whole lot longer, though, so the time spent with her uncle was precious.  While in San Trobida, Taylor was faced with a rush to establish her youth programmes during the brief window in which she’d be available with her full attention. The country was in the midst of a great rebirth, its people boldly stepping out from the shadows left by the cruel dictatorship that the revolutionaries had brought to its knees. To be able to play her own part in that story was, to Taylor, an immense honour, and a responsibility she took very seriously. Those fleeting months were intense, with meetings on top of meetings and enough networking to test even her people skills. Once the baby arrived, everything else would take a back seat, and her role would be as a part-time counsellor specialising in LGBTQ+ youth, and a mentor to students-- all of which she could carry out from their La Huerta home.
Estela had slowly dialed back her role with Catalyst International-- with both herself and Aleister on parental duties, delegation had become increasingly necessary. She kept up with the few bits and pieces that interested her, primarily assistance and scholarships for San Trobidan students, which allowed her to work nicely in tandem with Taylor, but anything else could be someone else’s problem. Staying with her uncle, a sense of peace had descended upon Estela. Her body gradually changed-- and morning sickness had plagued her-- but she took it in her stride.
The front door creaked as Taylor strode through. “Honey, I’m home!” She found Estela sitting cross-legged on the couch, leafing through a collection of baby sewing patterns. “Hey, are you feeling better?”
“Better. You didn’t have to come home….”
“As if I need an excuse to be with you.” Taylor crossed the room, and sat herself beside her wife. “I finished what I needed to get done. So, I got myself back to where I needed to be.”
Estela huffed happily. “I won’t complain. Maybe we could work on that blanket some more. You know how much of a kick Tio gets out of the sight of me knitting.”
“Yeah,” Taylor giggled. “He laughs, but I’m pretty sure he knows you are more than capable of disemboweling someone with those needles if a threat came up.”
“Of course. A spear could never be so subtle.”
They laughed together, then Estela took Taylor’s hands. “Actually, I wanted to share something with you, in my room. We can knit at the same time.”
Estela’s old room had changed little since she was a teenager; it was a cramped but cosy space, decked out with just a few shelves of childhood possessions and faded photographs upon a narrow dresser. Nowadays, alongside the charred-edged photo of a young Estela on the beach with her mother and uncle, was another of Estela-- now older, far more battle-scarred and world-weary-- on the very same beach, her arms around a smiling Taylor. Sat on that worn single bed, Estela could enjoy the comfort of familiarity as she carried on her journey toward a great unknown… and with her wife beside her, she found the courage to face the shadows that crept in along with those memories.
“Gordita, I made you up some of your horrible patacones,” Nicolas announced, pushing open the bedroom door with a shoulder as he presented a large plate. Since the pregnancy had been announced, Estela had been his gorda, with no care paid to how small her bump might actually be. At six months along, though, the belly was living up to that new nickname. “I despair. You get rid of one dictator, and suddenly we have jumped-up young people thinking they can eat peanut butter and jelly with their patacones. Is this the terrible price of freedom? Have I made a grave error?”
Estela snorted with laughter, taking the plate as her uncle kissed her forehead. “And yet you made these up for me; I must be very loved.”
“Always, mija. But you should notice there are some with mango salsa for your poor wife. I won’t have her suffer for your insanity.”
Taylor smiled, gratefully taking a patacone.Nicolas has been doting on the both of them relentlessly since the news had been broken-- Taylor didn’t think she’d ever seen him quite so happy. When the time finally came for them to leave for La Huerta, it would be a great wrench. “Cheers! You’re the best.”
“I’ll have that in writing, Taylita.” Nicolas’ eyes twinkled as he looked over his nieces. The time was fast approaching that they would be on their way again, ready to start the greatest of adventures. He would miss them so. La Huerta had never been a draw to him-- he’d not visited once-- but there was no doubt in his mind that even his stubbornness would have to concede once Estela had that baby in her arms. There was not a force on heaven or earth that could keep him away. “Okay, gorda. I will leave you to it. I’m sure you’ll let me know if you have any other culinary abominations you want me to whip up.”
“Thanks, Tio.”
Alone together in their small sanctuary, Estela and Taylor cuddled close. Taylor braved a nibble of one of Estela’s controversial patacones and admitted that Nicolas had a point. Those things just weren’t right.
“I’m with Tio,” she said. “Our little nene has played havoc on your taste buds.”
Estela chuckled, more forced than she’d have liked. There was something else on her mind. And it hadn’t gone unnoticed.
“Hey. Are you okay? You had something you wanted to show me?”
For a moment, Estela considered changing her mind. It had been over a decade that she’d avoided this, what was to say that now was suddenly the right time? The bump of a little foot up against her ribs gave her clarity. She wanted to show this to her baby someday; that meant she had to brave it. She pulled up her laptop and placed it on the bedside table, then rummaged in a drawer, taking out a disc.
“It’s… it’s our old home videos.” She took a deep breath. “Tio put it on a DVD ages back to make sure we didn’t lose it, and he had an extra copy made for me. You know, just in case I ever….” Her cheeks became pink. “I… I haven’t watched this for a long time.” How long, she didn’t say, but she didn’t doubt that Taylor would know, understand.
Taylor squeezed her wife, her own pulse quickening. She knew this was huge. “I would love to watch with you. So much. But only if you’re really ready.”
“I think sometimes, the closest thing you’re ever going to get to being ready is wanting to be.” Estela offered a wobbly smile as she picked up on Taylor’s concern. “Mi amor, I’m okay. I’m doing this with you.”
She leaned into Taylor as the DVD began to play. Then came a voice that made her heartbeat quicken.
“Hola Nicolas!” Olivia said, waving with one hand, while she supported the small infant Estela with the other. “Here she is! This is your niece. This is Estela.”
Taylor felt Estela’s hand clench around the bottom of her shirt, clinging on for comfort. She placed her own hand on top and gently squeezed. I’m here.
They watched as Olivia placed the infant in a bassinet, then picked up the camera to give a tour of her home.
“So, this is the first place I lived; my mom’s apartment in Colombia,” Estela explained, her voice shaking at first, then steadying. This… didn’t hurt as much as she’d anticipated. If anything, it was a comfort. The last pieces of film she’d seen of her mother had been that horrifying footage in the Elysian, and the VR warning message from Olivia’s office in the MASADA complex. This was Estela’s mother as she knew her, the person she’d been missing so painfully. There was the inevitable pang of longing as she looked at that face, but the wash of memories made her seem closer than she’d been for so many years. “It was a few months before she had everything sorted so we could move to Tio Nicolas’ place, so Mom made a videotape to send him. A friend at the lab she worked at gave her the camera; it was so Tio could see the new baby, but we used it a long time after that.”
With the apartment tour complete, the camera was placed down on some unseen table or stand, and Olivia came back into the frame, picking up baby Estela and cradling her in her arms.
“If you’re lucky, you might get a smile out of her,” Olivia said, grinning as she gently tickled Estela under her chin. “The twentieth of July was her first real smile. You’re going to laugh at me, but I cried. Maybe you’ll get it when you meet her. She’s just so, so beautiful. I swear I’m addicted to this girl.”
Taylor snuggled under Estela’s arm, and watched, entranced, as the baby on the screen grew and changed under the loving care of her mother, and then uncle as well.
“Wow, Tio Nicolas looks different!” she commented, to Estela’s chuckle. Time, unimaginable stress, and facial hair could do that to a person. It was impossible not to smile as she watched the young Nicolas bouncing his little niece on his foot. That he’d be utterly, totally smitten with Estela’s own child had to be the surest thing in the world. Taylor saw on that screen an image of a dream come true, a future that now lay before her and Estela. God, could I be any more clucky right now?
“That’s going to be us, Taylor. Our own little family.”
Instinctively, Taylor put her hand to Estela’s bump, stroking it. Her family with her soulmate; it wasn’t what she’d been made for, but she was certain it was what she was meant for.
“I’m going to be someone’s mom. When I think about it, it’s just… incredible.” She cuddled in close, and gently kissed Estela’s cheek and forehead. “It means so much that you shared this with me.” She gestured to the screen. That had taken a whole lot of bravery. “Watching this… I see so much of you when I see your mom.”
“She would have been an amazing abuelita,” Estela said softly. Closing her eyes, she breathed deeply. Her mother’s sacrifice had brought her to Taylor. This new family would carry a great deal of Olivia Montoya’s influence, though she’d never know. “Thank you. I know it’s silly for me to say this, but I really appreciate you saying that. I’m gonna do her proud.”
The child on the screen was older now, toddling around the so-familiar house on stumpy legs. She held in her arms a soft doll.
“Oh-- that’s Babydoll. I was… creative at naming things when I was two. Mami gave him to me on my birthday, and I just took him everywhere. It always made sense to me; there was no way in hell Mami would ever leave me it home, so how could I ever leave my baby?”
“So, when you say you always wanted to be a mom?”
“Yeah, it goes back a long way.” Estela stroked her belly, meeting Taylor’s hand there. “I’m glad I had no idea just how rough the path would be… how that dream just burned and died. But we’re going to get there.”
She could see it. A lot of what had made her childhood had been lost in a wash of pain and trauma, but it couldn’t be taken away completely. Those memories, there before her, they were still a part of her. Those warm family moments were hers to pass on to her own child.
“Actually, I think Mom kept Babydoll. Maybe as a souvenir of my brief period of childhood innocence. I should dig him out--” She faltered, and her cheeks flushed. This shouldn’t still be a problem….
Catching on in an instant, Taylor squeezed Estela’s knee, and met her eye with a warm and loving gaze. “We have time. And if we need to enlist Tio Nicolas to do most of the necessary rummaging, that’s fine too. It would be really nice for nene to have something of yours.” Memories were powerful. They made up so much of who each person was. Lacking her own childhood, Taylor had found herself gain a great deal from Estela’s, something that had always been generously shared with no hesitation, in spite of the pain that came with those memories. That family history was important, and it bonded them together.
With a small, appreciative smile, Estela nodded. “Yes… we have time.”
  La Huerta, May 2023
 “Right; tell me. Which end am I kissing?” Taylor scooched forward in the sand, reveling in the gentle heat of the lowering sun upon her back and shoulders.
“That’ll be nene’s back.” Estela gestured to her lower belly, then the top. “Head. Butt. Right where they should be.”
Taylor smiled warmly, and went back to lay another kiss against her wife’s swollen abdomen. “Bub’s got it all worked out. Ready to high-tail it outta there and start lapping up the cuddles.”
“It’s come around fast,” Estela stated. It had. Almost too fast. Pregnancy had been an adjustment for sure, but she’d become comfortable with sharing her body with the small passenger. She could take care of herself, and that meant that baby’s needs were met too. What came next was a great unknown. Estela knew better than most how good intentions of keeping a beloved child out of harm’s way could go up in flames. What her life had been… grateful though she was for the person it had made her, she didn’t want a life like that for her baby. She could tell herself that it would be different, that the fight was over, but she’d seen too much to not be protective. The person she might have gone to for reassurance, the person who’d truly have understood, was long lost to her. Rarely had Estela missed her own mother more than in these days leading up to the big event. It made her all the more grateful for Taylor; already completely besotted with the tiny person they were waiting to meet. In Taylor, her loving hero, she had all the faith in the world.
“Yeah...” Taylor put on a forlorn gaze as she looked up into Estela’s shining eyes. “Just a few more days, and I won’t be able to outrun you anymore. I’m pretty devastated.”
“You’re a beautiful dork, Taylor. But don’t worry. You’ll be able to keep ahead of nene for a few years, if you’re lucky.”
Taylor snuggled into Estela’s lap, and together, they watched the sun journey towards the horizon. The rising tide licked at their bodies. All was peaceful, tranquil; the only sounds were the rolling of the waves, the calls of tropical birds, and the distant laughter of children in Elyys’tel, voices carried upon the wind. Taylor quietly studied Estela from head to toes, taking in everything. The pregnancy had added further lines to Estela’s scar-painted body; marks of something happy at last. Her carriage gave off a quiet confidence; the baby was safe in its strong, resilient vessel. And in Estela’s face, once the vision of heavy burdens, so great that it might might have been those of the whole world… quiet, happy serenity. Taylor felt a wave of affection wash over her. It happened to her a lot. Goodness knew how she’d ever get anything done when she had Estela and the baby to love on all day.
“Estela?”
“Mi amor?”
“You know, I think a part of me is going to miss this. Being able to put my arms around you and hold the two people I love most in the world at the same time.”
Estela’s lips quirked into a smile. “You’ll still be able to do that. Soon enough, baby will be hugging you back.”
“It’s… got to be normal to be a little scared, right? I’ve got nothing, nothing at all to look back and remember as a reference for how the hell to raise a kid. What if I--”
“Taylor.” Estela took Taylor’s face in her hands; gentle but firm. God, Taylor… no one could ask for more than to be loved by you. “I’m scared too. But I’d be a hundred times more scared if I wasn’t doing this with you. It’s a whole actual person depending on us. A whole person we could screw up in a million different ways. But we won’t. Taylor, look at me. You won’t. Just… be scared with me. And all of us… we’ll be okay.”
Taylor pulled herself up and put both arms around Estela. Holding the two people she loved most at the same time. To be scared with Estela was almost to not be afraid at all. “You’re right. Wise Mama Estela.”
“Because of you. Don’t forget that.” And Estela kissed the tip of her beloved’s nose, growing cold with the retreat of the sun. She gave a little wink. “Mama Taylor.”
Her eyes glazing dreamily as she stared out to the sunset over the sparkling sea, Taylor felt a little kick against the arm that she had around Estela’s middle. She didn’t even need to look to know that there would be the most beautiful of smiles across her wife’s face. Pure elation. Mama Taylor? She could get used to that.
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~hello~ !! For the meta asks!: 3, 6, 9, 12, 15, 18, 21, 24, and 25 :))
Hello!! Thank you for sending these; I was really excited to see that ask game and I was hoping somebody would send some in. It still took me a while to actually answer them though, and for that I apologise. But without further ado! Some meta answers (under the cut because they ended up being fairly long, whoops):
3. What is that one scene that you’ve always wanted to write but can’t be arsed to write all of the set-up and context it would need? (Consider this permission to write it and/or share it anyway.)
I thought of a few examples, but they could basically be grouped together under a common theme: whumpy/angsty scenes that were self-indulgent as all heck. The whole self-indulgent aspect often required the characters to be just the teeniest, tiniest bit OOC and/or necessitated rather unrealistic plot circumstances. So it was simply easier to keep such scenes as maladaptive daydreams, rather than trying to think of explanations for the character/plot issues…or exposing myself to judgement for them LOL.
Receiving permission to write/share one such scene anyway is an opportunity I can’t let slip by though. It might be because I’m writing this while running on zero (0) hours of sleep—let’s hear it for insomnia, y’all!—but I suddenly couldn’t remember any of my newer ideas under this category. However, I did recall a one-shot I had started writing a couple of months ago that sort of counts? “Sort of” because I could actually be arsed to write it since I was, ya know, writing it. Only got about six hundred words down though.
…should I share those six hundred words…?
………nahhh. I don’t think I’m quite ready for that yet.
But here’s the gist of it: Coulson and May (because of course it’s Philinda) were married for quite some time before the Attack on New York. But then Coulson DiedTM and then got ResurrectedTM. But gasp of horror, he had to lose his memories of his romantic relationship with May because reasons. (I actually did have some ideas for those reasons but sshhhh this is about me yeeting context and setup.)
The first half of S1 still happens as normal (except MayWard doesn’t happen because??? Vows) and it’s now post-E20 “Nothing Personal”. The morning after (or a morning soon after, whatever) the T.A.H.I.T.I. reveal! May’s mom—who doesn’t know about GH.325 and whom May fed a cover story about Coulson divorcing her or something equally as oof, IDK—shows up at the hotel and starts ripping into Coulson for breaking her daughter’s heart, then dragging her back into the field with her ex-husband (him), then accusing her of terrible things and forcing her away again.
Poor guy’s confused as heck, and so is the team, and soon enough so is Lian. The only one who understands what’s going on is May, and she’s freaking dying off to the side like why is this happening to me and eventually everybody’s like! Explain??? (Was thinking about including something from Coulson like, “Are you still keeping things from me?” Just for that extra smidge of angst, yay!)
So yeah then May gives a, like, two-sentence debriefing that elicits more questions than answers. Coulson decides to take May aside and they have a heart-to-heart. Lots of feelings and angst and hurt/comfort and at some point plenty of kissing too. Just! May hiding her feelings for Coulson’s sake but really magnified, plus some actual apologies and consideration of the grief May’s been through on Coulson’s part.
And uhh yeah that’s basically it I dunno hdsjncjshd. I warned y’all it’s OOC, plot-bendy, and very self-indulgent!
6. What character do you have the most fun writing?
I don’t think I could name a single character for this. I get different things out of taking on different voices, you know? I guess recently I’ve found myself gravitating towards more taciturn and introspective points of view, like JQ from my original novel Rosewood or M. Yisbon from my…other original novel Temple.
Generally, however, I like tackling stories from an outsider’s perspective. That’s why I so rarely write my more “substantial” (serious? demanding? for lack of better words?) projects from the PoV of my “preferred” character. This usually means writing from their love interest’s perspective, but not always. With shorter fanfic, using a more removed/unconventional/niche PoV can be really fun. Like, I once wrote a canon compliant ficlet purely(-ish) about Philinda from Tony Stark’s perspective. That isn’t always sustainable with stories that demand more character development or closer character studies, however, which is why it’s a good thing I like writing drabbles!
9. Are you more of a drabble or a longfic kind of writer? Pantser or plotter? Do you wish you were the other?
My word counts tend to run long, but I usually only write one-shots for fanfic. If I’m even inspired with a novella- or novel-length story idea for a fandom, you already know I’m in deep with them. And if I actually find the motivation to plan and execute that idea? Dangg. That’s only ever happened…twice, maybe thrice, and I’m in a lot of fandoms.
At times, I wish I could go for more of a middle ground ’cause, like, you know what I love to see? An AO3 dashboard with several completed novellas for my ship/character of choice. I mean yes, I hecking love >90k fics, but sometimes I’m in the mood for quick reads…and what am I supposed to do when I burn through all the drabbles and 2k one-shots? (Besides despair and/or reread my faves desperately.) Novellas are basically always safe for me LOL, and I’d hope to be able to give as much as I take.
Ultimately though, I think I’m okay with where I am with regards to that. I wish I could write more in general, but I’d be okay with “writing more” just meaning “writing more one-shots”, ya know? More than okay, really. I have mad respect for fic writers who have, like, a hundred or more one-shots under their belt for this one ship. The fandom ecosystem would be incomplete without them (as well as every other type of writer, but sshhh that’s the type of writer I’m closest to being right now).
I’m definitely a plotter, and I definitely prefer it that way. It’s cool having such a detailed record of my process. I like feeling like a frazzled genius on the brink of a major discovery with all of my different outlines and colour coding and many drafts and various websites.
12. Do you want your writing to be famous?
Not exactly. It might be cool if my original works were recognisable in the world, but I don’t think I’d want to be recognisable. As for fanfic, I’d low-key enjoy gaining a place in that fandom’s community as a fic writer. Like someone who gave and got fic gifts from fic writer friends, who participated in challenges and GCs, who received writing prompts on Tumblr, whose name was known for doing a certain trope/genre a bunch of times… Ya know what I mean?
Unlikely to happen when I’m so hecking hesitant to publicly (i.e., outside of AO3) claim credit for my writing, but fjnskfsjhfjs. A writer can dream, right?
15. Which is harder: titles or summaries (or tags)?
Of those three, tags are the easiest for me, for I have a reliable system for figuring out those.
Next easiest would probably be titles. For fanfiction, I like to use titles that are a quote from the source material. You should have seen all of my old Hamilton fanfic… I was really proud of some of those titles. And I don’t mean, like, whole lines—usually only two to five words. It’s a unique type of wordplay that I just love dabbling in.
And lastly, summaries. Sometimes inspiration strikes me and a snappy and intriguing synopsis just jumps out—one that I’m quietly pleased with—but most of the time I’ll spend way too long trying to think of such a synopsis and eventually just go with whatever I’d come up with so far. And live with my quiet dissatisfaction for the rest of time.
18. Do any of your stories have alternative versions? (Plotlines that you abandoned, AUs of your own work, different characterisations...?) Tell us about them!
Typically, no. If I have deleted scenes, I save and publish them separately, but that’s about it. I sometimes think of AUs for my own work and might talk about them in my author’s notes—might even talk about writing them—but I never really do anything with them.
Although…
It’s not uncommon for me to decide a plotline isn’t working for a certain story or to think of an interesting but undoable arc for a certain character, but what I’ll do is make a whole new story for those ideas. Once I’m done developing the original idea and the branched-off one, you probably wouldn’t be able to tell they grew from the same roots. Does that count?
21. What other medium do you think your story would work well as (film, webcomic, animated series, etc.)?
That depends on the story. I’ve actually written stories in other mediums—movie screenplay, musical stageplay, poetry, TV show scripts, play scripts, roleplay—but the novel does tend to be my comfort zone. Sometimes, if I have an idea that I think could work, or would even work better, as another medium, I’ll label it as such in my folder of ideas and decide not to write it as a novel.
Most of the time, my non-book projects are collaborations. I’m working with five different people on six different story ideas: two webcomics, one stage musical, one anime, and two animated TV shows. Little concrete progress has been made in any of those, mind you, but they’re still fun to discuss!
24. Would you say your writing has changed over time?
Absolutely. But I’ve been writing stories since I was five years old, so we would hope so, huh?
I wouldn’t say my writing’s changed completely, though maybe that’s just my insider’s perspective.
25. What part of writing is the most fun?
Oh gosh, I can’t believe you’d make me choose. Writing is just such a wonderful experience for me; I love just about everything to do with it. Admittedly, not all the time, but. Since that barely qualifies as an answer, however, I’ll give you this—
The endings. Not only that intense feeling of rightness when you wrap up that last sentence, but also the moments before. The adrenaline of knowing you’re almost there but you gotta push just a bit more to actually get there. And also the part right after—the real wrap-up, honestly: the revision and the editing. Heavens, I love revising and editing my work.
Which is not to say I don’t like writing it out for the first time, too—there’s nothing quite like seeing your cursor scroll to the next page, like going from a blank expanse to a Oh man, how many more lines are even going to fit on this page?, like watching that page counter tick up another number. However, there’s something cathartic about finally ironing out those problems I had to force myself to stop worrying about earlier because “just finish the first draft dangit”.
I guess that’s not really the end of the writing process, but whatever. Close enough (as fic writers are wont to say).
Another thank-you for these asks, and feel free to come back with more at any time! ;P
Send in fun meta asks for your friendly neighbourhood writer!
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kit-blackthorn · 5 years
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HADES AND PERSEPHONE Chain of Gold AU - James Herondale and Cordelia Carstairs
James Herondale never wanted to be the God of the dead. Technically, he was god of the Underworld, with his right hand man Thanatos god of the dead, but no one cared about semantics.
What with James’ apparent ghastly appearance and pale skin, no one made the mistake of assuming him a living creature. No one person on the sunny side of the world had ambrosial eyes like James. No satyr, Demi-god, or even nymph had irises the color of his. More than living creatures feared his name, they feared his eyes more.
Some people, however, did not mind James’ eyes. His friend Matthew, god of sunlight and poetry, compared them to the first rays of daylight that sparks off the edge of his sun chariot. James has blushed. He did not get compliments often, especially by beings with sun-kissed skin.
He does not understand why the Olympians fear him similar to that of a mortal. After all, gods are immortal. Why should they fear appearing death?
It does not due well for James to focus on this. It’s been four thousand years, he should be over it by now.
James sits upon his throne of obsidian, pondering many things he should not think about lest he fall into a hole of despair. If that abyss could even be darker than hell itself.
Many of James’ subjects wander around, dusting off his ceiling long paintings of various things found above ground. Some of them believe James is mocking them by hanging up such photos of the world they are no longer part of, but that’s not why James do it.
James loves paintings of the sea, of sunflowers and dandelions and trees with weeping leaves. It’d been nearly a thousand years since James had been on the sunny side of things. He dared never take a step, as his yearning would cause such a fulfillment that he would no longer return to his domain.
“You should just do it.” Thanatos said, startling James.
Thanatos - or rather Jesse as he liked to be called - arched a Stygian brow. His green eyes were similar to the emeralds that adorned James’ fanciful palace ceiling.
“You spoke out loud,” Jesse supplied.
“Oh,” James said. “Well why do you think I should go above ground?”
Jesse shrugged. “You have nothing to loose. Besides, you are getting pale, my lord.”
James rolled his eyes. “Fine, but if I get sunburned I shall have Matthew run over you with his Chariot.”
James stood, his royal robes falling around his long legs. The royal black velvet swished against the marble floor. Slowly, he reached inside and took out the books he kept in the inside pockets, setting them along the arms of his throne.
Jesse arched another brow, but said nothing else. Even he knew James lived vicariously through book characters. Book characters that could live in sunlight, who could ride magnificent beasts and marry their loves without the fear of being feared. Sometimes, James wished he could carve out the godly part of himself and become more... normal. Living.
It did not take long for James to walk up to the land of the living. He past his three-headed dog Cerebus and the Elysian Fields where the heroes James read about remained.
Sunlight was a funny thing to the god of the underworld.
Wind with a hint of cherries and apples blew past James, making him scrunch up his nose. He was used to pomegranates, really.
James appeared to have landed, or rather found himself, in a meadow filled with narcissus and chrysanthemums. Their vivid colors burst against the solid green Earth. No jewel could entertain their color.
James looked up, watching as sunlight shone through the leaves, dimpling on his skin giving him spots.
James took a deep breath. Why was he here again? It was not like he had someone to meet? Maybe Matthew-
James’ thoughts stopped short when he heard a voice. A feminine voice as soft as the summer wind.
James slowly turned towards it, treading lightly on the branches that littered the ground.
On a patch of grass in the middle of the meadow was a girl. A girl wearing a summer sky blue dress adorned with pink flowers at the neckline and hemline. Her skin was dark against the pastel dress, sun kissed mixed with cinnamon. Her hair was a vibrant red, dark as a ruby. She laid on the ground with a narcissus in her hand. At her side was a gleaming gold sword, one of which she traced absent mindedly with her free fingers.
“Marriage?” She said to the flower. “Marriage to a nymph I need not know?” Disgust warmed her words.
“Who does my mother think she is?” The girl asked. “Sona, goddess of flowers and fruit and all that, I get it. But this? Marriage? I do not believe it is in her power to ask me that, not even as my mother.”
“I will not marry.” She said and raised her sword. The gleaming weapon cast sunlight spots along the ground and her skin. “Lest I shall part with you.”
“I am the goddess of spring time. I do as I please.” She said again, as though she were trying to convince herself. “Not even Alastair backed me up!” She told the sword. “He just nodded and scolded me for opposing mother. They are too alike, my mother and brother.”
She sighed and lower her sword to her chest, letting the blade rest upon her sternum. “I shall only marry who I love, but what can I do when who I love does not love me?”
“Kill them.”
The girl started and sat up, whirling to look at James. Her eyes widened and her pink mouth dropped.
He hasn’t meant to say that. But as someone with first hand experience to heart break, he could not stop his resurfacing feelings. Although he no longer loved Grace, the woman who never loved him anyway, the feelings still burned like salt that would never leave a wound.
“James?” The girl asked.
James blinked. “You recognize me?” Although he did not look on part with a living creature, she shouldn’t have been able to tell so soon and so far away.
“Of course I do,” She said and then frowned. “Do you not know me?”
James opened his mouth but nothing came out. He thought over the hundreds of thousands of faces he’d seen during his existence, but he can’t remember hers. He would remember hers.
The girl crossed her arms and looked away from James, obviously upset. “Cordelia.” She snapped, her ruby red hair blowing in the breeze.
“Right,” James said realizing. “Yona’s daughter. You specialize in...flowers.”
Cordelia looked offended. “Flowers keep this world alive, you know that? Obviously you don’t, God-of-Death.” She bit her lip but did not apologize.
James was astounded. Many did not say sentences to him. Much less an insult.
“Have we met before?” James asked, wondering what he did to receive such vehemence.
Cordelia squeaked. “Yes! Numerous times in Mount Olympus!”
James needed to change the topic. “Who are you to marry?” James asked, daring to step closer.
Cordelia blushed, her cheeks as red as her hair. James wanted to touch her hair, see if it was as warm as the day itself.
“Someone I do not even know.”
“What about the on you’re in love with?” James asked. “Why not him or her?”
Cordelia watched him for a long moment with an unreadable expression. James thought perhaps she is searching his secret worthiness.
“Doesn’t matter.” Cordelia said at last. “Why, I bet they don’t even know my name.”
James nodded, trying to feel sympathetic. “I’m sorry.” He said. “I’m sure they would like you if they knew you.”
Cordelia scowled at him. Surprising, her scowl was as pretty as her smile.
She sighed. “It matters not. My mother will force me to marry since I cannot obtain a lover myself.”
“You could marry me.” James said before he even realized her could say such words. But he had been too busy looking at the flowers that adorned her dress, at the golden sword laid beside her like a hero fallen on the Earth.
Cordelia’s eyes were wide. “Truly?” She asked in disbelief. “Why would you...”
“I do not know.” James said. “But you have spoken to me longer than anyone has in over a century, and you are the most beautiful living thing I have ever seen.”
She narrowed her eyes. “You didn’t even remember my name.”
James sucked in a breath. “To be fair, Yona never allows me anywhere near her so out of that avoidance I must have mistakenly avoided you.”
Cordelia seemed to deem this answer good enough and stood. She was almost as tall as James, but much more graceful. She strode up to him and looked him in the eyes without flinching. Suddenly, she spun around him and laced her arm through his.
“I accept your proposal.” She said, trying to feigh non-chalance. “Take me to your palace.”
James heart sped up on the verge of hope. “Will you be alright in the underworld? With no sunlight?”
Cordelia thought for a moment before shrugging. “We can work something out.” She smiled. “Do you have food down there? I am famished.”
James, understanding the vow Cordelia had made, smiled. “I believe there to be the most delicious pomegranates.”
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worddevdealswithml · 5 years
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The Prince’s Bride
Chapter 2:  Pain and Abduction
“When the horse arrives, the insignia will give Gabriel ample reason to say that the very people he’s trying to marry his son off to have abducted his son.  When he catches and supposedly kills the mercenaries stealing him away, in their territory, there’ll be no denying that they were trying to steal him.  All the evidence he needs to start a war, or, well, blackmail them into silence.”
The next two years passed as a living agony for Adrien.
Two of the people he cared for most in the world were gone, and his father…
Father had always been distant, eternally busy with the business of running an entire kingdom, but ever since Mother had died, he’d barely even been seen, always away with Nathalie, or secreted away, working on who knew what.  Even Nathalie, who had previously at least been present, was gone most of the time, running errands that she was never willing to explain.
Adrien only had a few hints regarding the strange fervor in his father’s actions.  The small packages that arrived occasionally, which he recognized as the boxes that Miraculouses were usually stored in; he knew that all but the most lackluster of Miraculouses were incredibly expensive, usually only acquired by inheritance, bloodshed, or the offer of a great deal of money.
His father didn’t have many relatives to inherit from, so Adrien could only hope that he had simply become a collector to keep his mind off of what had happened to his wife, through legitimate means.
Even that wouldn’t explain why the urge had overtaken him with such strength.
Adrien, already half-despairing, was only forced deeper into the state when his father had informed him that he was pursuing a match between Adrien and the princess of The Gilded Kingdom, which was their rather contentious neighbor across the sea.
He should have been glad; The Gilded Kingdom was remarkably rich, and generally considered one of the more powerful in the area.  They were even known for having a Miraculous carried in the royal family; a single cut from the blade of its wielder could freeze even the strongest warrior in their tracks, and it was widely regarded as one of the more powerful Miraculouses.
By all accounts, this marriage would secure their position, financially and politically.
But for Adrien, still bleeding over the loss of Marinette, there was no comfort.  All he knew was that he could promise nothing of his own wellbeing if he was truly to be wed to someone when the only person he could imagine loving was dead.
And, though he knew it was pointless, he couldn’t help wanting to get away from the castle, away from the future that he knew he couldn’t truly avert.
The particularly suspicious observer might have taken notice of the fact that the day Gabriel finally let his son return to the farm he’d kept him away from for so long was the same day he told Nathalie to recruit a few quiet workers to do a bit of work for him.
But… Any such observer either didn’t exist, or didn’t think to tell Adrien.
...
Adrien had little respite from his own mind, except for riding his horse, which meant that he’d become known for it in the village nearby… That, and purchasing significant supplies of breads and pastries from Marinette’s parents; he’d always associated Marinette with the smell of bread, and every time he walked in, he could imagine, for a second, that she would be in there, waiting for him.  And… Even if she wasn’t, he could at least stay for a time, and talk to her parents.
They’d made it clear that they didn’t blame him for her leaving, and had, in fact, been the closest thing to a proper family that he’d had since the news had arrived.
Still, sometimes he just wished that when he went for a ride, he’d be able to keep riding forever, never having to return to the memories of his life; maybe he’d find something more arresting than the old couple he’d run into once or twice.
But, every time, he ran up against the coast, and little though he wanted to stay, he couldn’t just throw himself into the water.  He owed it to Marinette.
Of course, that didn’t make things any easier, and it certainly didn’t make it any less distressing that the ride was becoming so ingrained in his mind that he was almost free to think on the road.
It was on a day when the issue was weighing particularly hard on his mind that he found the path forward occupied.
Jolted from his thoughts, Adrien reached down, and pulled back on the reins.
On the path in front of him, there were three people.
The first, in the front, was a strikingly pretty woman, wearing a well-tailored outfit with orange accents that must have cost her a great deal.  Her expression was the very picture of innocent uncertainty.
Behind her were two others, wearing what Adrien, from his years spent in rich society, recognized as the strange, unnatural clothes that came from using a Miraculous.  One was a man, quite tall, and strongly built, hooded, and in green.  The other was a woman in orange, gently twirling what looked like a small instrument in one hand.
“Hello,” said the woman in the front.  “We’re itinerant workers, but we seem to have lost our way.  I don’t suppose there’s a town, or a village nearby?”
“No, there’s nobody around.  Not for miles.”
Her expression of confusion shifted slightly, and the smile she was wearing unnerved him a bit more than he’d have expected.
“Probably for the best.  We wouldn’t want anybody having to listen to you scream.”
Adrien blinked, and managed to register the threat as the man in green stepped forward.  Adrien reached up for the reins to try and turn around, but suddenly he was in his face, and Adrien had the peculiarly unpleasant sensation of being neatly pulled off of his horse and having an arm around his neck.
He flailed for only a few seconds, before his vision went dark.
As the other two carried their target into the boat, the one who had been talking stood by the horse, which seemed to know something seemed wrong.
As a sound reached them, the woman looked up.  “Are you tearing… clothes, Lila?”
“Am I tearing clothes,” mimicked the woman, Lila, under her breath.  She held up the piece of cloth in her hand; cream fabric, with the insignia of a bee on it.  “Of course I am.  With the right insignia in the right place you can start a war like it’s nothing.”
She slapped the horse.  “Go.”
“When the horse arrives, the insignia will give Gabriel ample reason to say that the very people he’s trying to marry his son off to have abducted his son.  When he catches and supposedly kills the mercenaries stealing him away, in their territory, there’ll be no denying that they were trying to steal him.  All the evidence he needs to start a war, or, well, blackmail them into silence.”
“Hold up,” said the man who had choked Adrien out, “did you say something about killing these mercenaries?  That’s us, right?”
“Of course it is, but he’s not going to actually kill us, he’s just going to say he has so there’s supposedly nobody around with any information that could let his ruse fall through.”
“I think at that point he’d probably just actually kill us so there really isn’t anybody to let it slip,” said the man, giving her a confused expression.
There was a long second of silence, as he cringed away from the nasty expression that spread across Lila’s face.
“Excuse me, Nino?  You think?  You think that he’d do that?  Did I hire you to think?  Would I have even taken this job if I thought it would get me killed?  Do you doubt my ability to talk my way into getting exactly what I bargained for?”
“No, I’m pretty sure Nino’s right,” said the other woman, pulling the plank up into the boat.
“Ohhh!” said Lila, turning to face her, “our town gossip has spoken.  You remember when I found you, Alya?  Out of money, desperately looking for some kind of lead on your blue woman?  You were so hungry, I could probably have just taken your Miraculous outright in exchange for a few coins, and frankly, it would probably have been more profitable to sell it than it’s been to have you work for me.  I’m the only reason you didn’t die of starvation or have to resort to low forms of work, so which of us do you think knows what they’re talking about?”
“We’re literally here to start a war,” she said, offended but chastened, “I don’t think it gets lower than that.”
“This is a prestigious art, with a long and glorious tradition,” scoffed Lila, rolling her eyes.
She turned to Nino.  “And you!  All that muscle and armor, and you couldn’t avoid almost getting cooked in your shell.  Do you want me to send you back to where I found you?  Roasting on a pyre?  In Greenland?”
She shook her head in annoyance, and walked up to the front of the boat.
They watched her pass behind the sail, which still hadn’t been raised fully.
Nino silently set to work cranking it into position.
Alya watched him, noted the slightly defeated look he wore, and took a step forward.
She paused a second, and thought through her next words.
“I doubt that Lila truly wants us harmed / She really just seems kind of stressed to me.”
Nino looked at her, and let out a short chuckle, then closed his eyes for a second, as if thinking.
“Well, if she did, I’d surely be alarmed / But why’s she got to pass the stress to... we?”  He shrugged, as if admitting a slight defeat on his rhyme.
She laughed.  “I always like how you’re so good at these.”
“I worked for years, at this point, it’s a breeze.”
“Enough of that!” said Lila, from the front of the boat, as the sail rose high enough to get them moving.
“So Nino, tell me, are there rocks ahead!?” called Alya, seemingly oblivious to Lila’s annoyed tone.
“Who says I know? If so, we'll soon be dead!”
“What did I say?  Stop with the rhyming!”
Nino grinned, and made a visible effort to restrain himself, but then laughed.
“I was done anyway, so, perfect timing!”
That seemed to be the last straw for Lila.
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lathal-a · 4 years
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Laisa Rosal
Laisa, Iveani’s mother, was a very stoic woman. She was strict, no-nonsense, and valued image highly. She’s always loved learning, and though she never had any formal education, managed to teach herself a lot over time. She’s always had a quite pessimistic view of the world, however, and believes that’s why she was never able to really be happy. Her life is punctuated by periods of intense despair. Sometimes, it made sense, but other times, it happened when everything was going well, and by all accounts, she should have been happy.
She was born in Hasmal. In her early years, everything had been good. Her mother and father were both good people who cared very deeply for their children. Laisa idolized her father, and dreamed of one day growing up to be just like him. She sometimes fought with her older sister, Nera, but all children do. She and her identical twin, Linaya, were practically attached at the hip. Their best friend, Anthras, lived right next door, and it seemed like those three did everything together. When her mother announced she was going to have a baby, she was thrilled at the idea of being a big sister.
Things changed when her mother died giving birth to her little brother, Halen. She tried not to let it show how much she resented the boy. She knew deep down that it wasn’t his fault he had taken her mother away from her, but it didn’t change a thing. Her father grieved, of course, but as time passed, he healed. He eventually re-married. He didn’t realize that his new wife, Laisa’s new stepmother, was a cruel woman. Laisa began to hate him for it, but she hated her stepmother even more. Then Linaya discovered her magic while her father was away at work, but her stepmother was home. Her stepmother called the templars to have Linaya taken away before she even told her father. Laisa felt like part of her heart had been ripped away from her. 
Laisa had always told Anthras everything. She didn’t know how she would’ve made it through those years without him. He was the one who encouraged Laisa to tell her father everything her stepmother did to her and her siblings. When she did, her father was livid. He decided that it was best if they all left to start a new life away from her. He decided to bring them to Tantervale. Laisa cried, not wanting to leave her best friend behind, but her father assured her that it was best this way.
Things in Tantervale were okay. So peaceful they were boring, perhaps. When she was 18, her father began to make preparations for her to get married. He had intended on picking someone further away than Hasmal, but when he saw that Anthras’s parents were looking for a bride for him, he decided to see if he would be interested.
Laisa and Anthras got married, and Anthras moved to Tantervale to be with her. It was bigger, and would have more opportunities. They both wanted a large family, and Laisa swore to never let her children suffer the way she had. For awhile, things were good. They weren’t perfect, but they were good. Laisa started her own business as a seamstress, and it did well. They were never rich, but they consistently had a roof over their head, food on the table, and some extra to save for the future. It was more than most people had, and her husband made sure that they helped those around them as best as they could. The two of them welcomed four children: Aranehn, Dalinev, Mirwen, and Fellenaste. 
Laisa was a good mother, although she was less soft and tender than one would typically expect. Laisa was almost always working, so she didn’t spend nearly as much time with her children as she’d like, but it was to provide the best she could for them. When she was around, she was strict, but she only meant it out of love. She did her best to make sure her children grew up happy, healthy, and had a sense of discipline, but one by one, each of her children discovered their magic.
In Tantervale, chantry law is all but absolute. She and Anthras didn’t want to send her children away, but she was afraid of the punishment for harboring an apostate. Each time, they informed the templars and the children were brought to different circles. Knowing they wouldn’t be able to handle another loss, she and Anthras were extremely careful not to get pregnant again until she was sure she was too old to have another child, when they relaxed some. 
She was wrong about being too old, and discovered that she was pregnant with her fifth child. She was distraught, but Anthras was thrilled. He was sure that the fact that she was pregnant despite her age was a sign that the child was a gift from the Maker, and that he wouldn’t send a child just to take them away again. However, during her pregnancy, a plague swept through the alienage, killing Anthras.
Laisa could barely manage to look at her new daughter, Iveani. Still, she made sure that Iveani had access to what she needed, physically. She stayed as distant from her emotionally as possible. She told herself it was for the best, that Iveani would also be a mage and would just be taken. When that happened, surely it would be easier for both of them if they weren’t attached, right? So once Iveani’s physical needs were met, that was it. Iveani was the type of child to get into trouble as soon as your back was turned, but there was never any concern when she hurt herself. When Iveani would try to hug her, she’d be told to stop that, and if she’d try to speak to her, she’d be ignored. She’d tell herself that dangerous things weren’t so bad, even when another parent came to her concerned for Iveani. There was a shopkeeper not too far away that most parents wouldn’t let their children anywhere near, because the way he interacted with children seemed wrong, but Iveani spent a lot of time with him. 
Iveani disappeared one day when she was five. It was days before Laisa worried enough to even go and ask templars if they’d taken her, thinking that perhaps her magic had manifested when she was out in public. When they didn’t know anything about her, she talked to the city guard, but they seemed unconcerned. When she spoke to neighbors about the disappearance (lying about the time frame - she didn’t want to upset anyone by saying she’d been missing for days before she began to look for her) people suspected the shopkeeper, but he’d disappeared, too.
Laisa knew that missing children rarely fared well. She came to accept that Iveani was likely either killed or enslaved. As time passed, and she reflected on her actions, she came to realize how cruel she’d been to her. She wasn’t the mother Iveani deserved. She’d give anything for a chance to re-do it, but it was too late now. Years later, she eventually re-married. She poured her regret into doing her best to be the best stepmother she could be for her two stepsons, but it was too late for Iveani. If she’d been more careful, maybe she wouldn’t have been kidnapped. Even if that was inevitable, perhaps if she’d been more loving, she would’ve had a happier life before it was cut short. She never let anyone know about her regrets, though. She never wanted anyone to know how she had been treating Iveani.
Of course she heard of the Inquisitor. She had the same first name. She had heard people talking about running away to join the Dalish. She knew someone who had even seen Inquisitor Lavellan, and they commented on how similar they looked. Still, she never thought that perhaps they may be the same person. Her Iveani was 20 years dead, after all.
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The Tale of Tales Chapter 31
Lucy woke up really early the next morning. It was still dark out and the sun had not yet risen. She saw that while Erza was still sound asleep Natsu was awake also. He was sitting by a fire he had started staring at that golden slipper he always kept with him.
"You're thinking about her again aren't you?" She asked him.
"And what if I am?"
"You really think that you're actually going to find her?"
"I know I'm going to find her."
"What if she doesn't want to be found? What if she only came to that ball to have a fun time. Not seek out a husband or gain your admiration?"
"Maybe you're right. Maybe she doesn't want to be found and maybe she doesn't return my feelings. But I have to find her, I have to know her name, I have to tell her how I feel."
"Are you even sure that you love her? You don't even know her. You can't love someone you don't know."
"Why are you so against my love for her?"
"Because I don't think what you feel for her is real love. Pardon my boldness your highness but I think you're delusional. You need to forget this mystery dream girl and move on to a girl who actually exists."
"Oh now I see what's going on. You're jealous."
"What?!"
"Can't say I blame you for falling for me. I am a dashing prince."
"Ugh! You're more delusional than I thought. As if I would ever have feelings for an arrogant, conceited, spoiled little rich boy like you!"
"Hey you're no picnic either sweet heart! You're bossy, demanding, and difficult! I don't think I've ever met a more insufferable woman!"
"Insufferable?! How dare you!" She took some mud into her hands and flung it into his face. "Honestly how on Earth were you born a prince?! You have no manners, no humility, no respect, and no-"
But she was silenced by Natsu throwing mud straight back into her face.
"You had that coming doe eyes." He said.
She only threw more mud at him, soon the two were in an all mud slinging war that went on for hours and eventually their anger was forgotten and they ended up having fun. By the time sun rise had come they were both covered head to toe in mud and dirt. Before continuing with their journey they took separate turns bathing in the spring.
At last they reached the end of the astral line. At the end of it was a large oak tree that had no leaves and looked as if it was ready to wither away and die.
"So end of the line huh?" Natsu said.
"Levy must be around here somewhere." Lucy said.
She began to search around the tree for any indication that could lead her to Levy. She then spotted a marking on the tree that resembled a key hole. She leaned over and placed her fingers on to the mark, as soon as she touched it the gold key in her pocket started glowing. She pulled the key out and looked at the mark on the tree that looked like a key hole. She brought the end of the key toward the mark and to her surprise it went right through it. She stuck the key further in, turned it three times, and the tree opened like a door.
At once something flew out from inside and took the form of a petite but pretty lady with shimmering wings on her back. Her short blue hair was decorated with daisies and she wore a dress that appeared to made from gold and silver leaves. For a moment she stood perfectly still as if she was trying to make sure that she was actually here. She then turned to Lucy, gave her a big smile, and flew in to hug her.
"Oh Lucy look at you!" She cried cheerfully. "I haven't seen you since you were a baby. My how you've grown, you're the image of your dear mother."
"So you're Levy? You're my fairy godmother?" Lucy asked.
"Yes and I can't thank you enough for freeing me. Oh how I've waited for this day. At last it's here. I'm finally free!...Oh no!"
"What is it?"
"Now that I've been freed it's only a matter of time before it finds out."
"It? It who? Or what?"
"I'll explain later but right now we need to go somewhere it's eyes can't see. Hurry now!"
"Wait what about my friends?"
"Oh you didn't come alone?"
"Hi we're friends of hers." Natsu said.
"Excuse me Levy was it? What's going on? Why do you look so frightened?" Erza asked.
"I haven't the time to explain it now. All of you follow me quickly." Levy's wings started to flutter as she levitated off the ground. "Oh I've missed flying so much."
Lucy, Natsu, and Erza followed Levy as she flew toward a cave and inside was a tiny house.
"Alright now everyone in." Levy said.
"You want us to go in there?" Erza said skeptically.
"Yes."
"But it's so small." Lucy said.
"Of course, it makes it harder for that horrid thing to see it that way."
"But aren't we a little too big?" Natsu said. "I mean how are we supposed to get in?"
"Oh sorry! I forgot!" She stuck her hand in her dress pocket and pulled out a handful of gold and silver dust which she blew on to them, causing them to shrink and be transported into the tiny house. She then dropped some of the dust on to herself and came in after them. "There we go. I apologise for it being so snug in here, I normally don't have that many people in here."
The house was very small and it was loaded with mountains and mountains of books.
"There certainly are a lot of books in here." Erza observed.
"It's like you have your own library." Lucy said.
"I'm a bit of book worm." Levy said.
"A bit?" Natsu said.
"So Levy who or what was this it you were referring to?" Lucy asked her.
"The evil spirit in the mirror." Levy said. "It knows everything and it sees everything. There a very few things in this world that are unknown to it and very few places where it's eyes do not see."
"What exactly is this thing? And what does it want?"
"Years ago an evil spirit somehow managed to escape from the depths of hell and enter our world." Levy said. "Twisted, vile, and cruel it was. It's soul purpose was to spread chaos, misery, and despair wherever it went. My fellow fairies and I tried to send it back to hell but fairies can only do good magic so with the help of a group of wise men we were able to seal the spirit inside of a magic mirror. Unfortunately, though the spirit was trapped it still had it's evil powers and could use them to manipulate it's way to freedom."
"How?" Erza asked.
"Your aunt Minerva is a prime example Lucy. Queen Minerva did not always look as she does now. She started out as a hideous creature and her own father despised her with every fiber of his being. But her sister, your mother Layla saw past her repulsive appearance and loved her. They were inseparable those two, always together laughing and playing and Minerva despite looking the way she did was a sweet and caring girl."
"Are we talking about the same Minerva?" Natsu asked.
"Yes. Believe it or not she was once very kind and good."
"Why did she change?" Lucy said.
"It happened on your parents's wedding day. Originally your father had been arranged to marry Minerva, he was the son of a wealthy merchant and she was the daughter of a land owner. The marriage would have led to incredible wealth but your father was smitten with your mother's beauty and his infatuation turned to love so he married her instead. Minerva was devastated, in tears she fled into the forest where she stumbled on to the mirror. The mirror promised to make her the most beautiful woman in the world and it did but it came at an awful price. The mirror will grant you what you desire but once it's power touches you everything you see becomes cold and ugly and you only see the worst in people. As the years passed Minerva grew more beautiful but she also grew to resent and envy her sister, forgetting all the love and compassion Layla had given her. The mirror was slowly but surely darkening her heart, but then the kind and good King Hector married her and her envy was briefly silenced until that day."
"What day?"
"Seventeen years ago a child was born into the world, a child who would one day grow up to be more beautiful than even her. Seven years after the girl's birth, Minerva sensed that another was destined to surpass her and her jealousy was reawakened. She seeked out of forbidden book of dark magic and witchcraft which I was planning to destroy but she caught me, stole the book, and trapped me for ten years."
"What exactly is going to happen to her?"
"As her hatred and jealousy grows so does the mirror's control over her. Soon the spirit will be able to escape it's prison and take over her body, using it to once again cause destruction to our world."
"But it can be stopped right?" Natsu said.
"If the mirror is shattered by the only weapon that can destroy it then the spirit will be banished back to hell."
"Okay so what is this weapon?"
"I do not know it's exact name. No one does, all we know about it is that it's of ash and cinder on the outside but of the purest gold on the inside."
"What the hell does that mean?" Natsu asked.
"I don't know. It's a riddle that we've been trying to figure out for years but I do know this. The child is now a woman with beauty that far outshines Minerva and if she successfully kills her then that will complete the mirror's corruption. With each evil act she commits it brings her closer to becoming no more than the mirror's puppet and if she carries out that final act it will cement her end and our own as well."
"Who is this woman that she's trying to kill?" Erza asked.
"I don't know her by name, I only know that she has hair as blue rain, cheeks blush as the rose, and skin white as snow."
"Juvia!" Lucy gasped in realization.
"Huh?" Natsu said.
"It's Juvia! She's the one Minerva wants to kill!"
"The princess of Fiore? Are you sure?"
"Yes! Minerva's always been jealous of her! She's the only person she hates more than me! Oh my God we have to find her!"
"I've met her." Erza said. "I know where she is."
"Where is she?"
"Last time I saw her she said she was living in a cottage with three dwarfs."
"We have to get back and find her right away!"
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lizzy-c807fanfics · 5 years
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The things we do for a friend
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Can internet dating lead to finding your soul mate? Mary Margaret and David believe that is the case but it turns out they’ve both been burned in that arena before. They enlist their cynical friends Emma and Killian as back up for them just in case they get stuck. What happens when they all meet? (Rated M) FF
“Mary Margaret do I have to?”
“Please Emma, I really like him but I’m nervous to go alone. I promise just this one time.”
“That’s what you always say and then I end up finding a way to sneak you out of the restaurant when the guy turns out to be a creep.”
“Well, if all goes well with this one, and I have a good feeling about him, then this will be the last time.”
“Fine, I really hope he is. Honestly Mary Margaret I’m not sure how you can keep online dating. So far all the guys you’ve met have been creepy. Remember that guy that picked his nose when he thought you weren’t looking.”
“Ugh, don’t remind me about him. Thank god I had you watching from the bar. It’s a shame because he was actually cute. “
“Imagine kissing booger mouth at the end of the night.”
“That’s disgusting.”
“Oh, and what about that guy who picked food off of other people’s plates at the hibachi when he thought no one was looking.”
“I know they can’t all be winners but at least I’m putting myself out there. When was the last time you had a date?”
She frowned and chewed her bottom lip.” I don’t know, six months ago.”
“Exactly Emma. One guy breaks your heart and you become a cynic for the rest of your life? Not all guys are like him.”
“I know. Maybe booger eater is available.”
Mary Margaret swatted her on the arm.”Not funny!”
“Come on, it’s a little funny.”
She watched as her friend walked back to her office in a huff.
“Meet you at 7!”she called out.
She thought she caught the tail end of a rude gesture from her before she disappeared. She never ceased to be surprised by her.
Maybe Mary Margaret was right. She had been single and celibate for awhile now. She wasn’t about to step into the online dating pool like her but maybe she could make an effort to hang out with friends a little more. She had been head strong into her career for the last year and that one date she had, he was just ok, not anyone special that she would make an effort for.
She decided that she’d be a little more open to the possibility if something presented itself. She just had to get through babysitting Mary Margaret through another dating fiasco. She really did hope that this guy was decent for her sake. If she had to watch her beautiful friend sit across from one more bottom feeder she was going to lose it. Mary Margaret deserved someone kind, caring and decent like she was.
“Dave, are you certain about this one?”
“I feel like she’s my soul mate.”
“You said that about the last creature that you met and she stalked you for a month after that awful date. She was picking her teeth with a fork for heaven’s sake.”
“Killian, they’re all looking for love and the right person. I just wasn’t the right one for her. From what I hear her boyfriend Billy Bob is the one.”
“You still keep in touch with her?”
“She emails me sometimes.”
He shook his head. “What’s this one’s damage?”
“So far, I haven’t found one thing damaged about her. She’s beautiful, intelligent, funny and really nice.”
“Be sure to check in the closet for bodies Mate; she sounds too good to be true.”
I think this is the one. I can feel it.”
“Fine, I’ll be there but I’ll be the first to tell you I told you so if she turns out to be the spawn of Satan.”
“Great, it’s the usual place. I’ll give you the signal if it’s not going well.”
“Right, I walk by and pretend there’s an emergency at work.”
“Yes.”
“You’re paying my tab.”
He pat him on the shoulder and walked back to his office. “Don’t I always? Be there at 7.”
He never met anyone so optimistic about love and soul mates in his entire life until he met Dave. The man was hopeless. He watched him from the bar going on countless dates with these strange women. Each one just a little more deranged than the other but he continued to do it. He had to give him credit because at least he was trying, unlike himself.
He made the mistake of falling for the wrong woman at the wrong time in his career. He found himself out of a job and relationship all at the same time when his former boss walked in on him with his wife. He had no idea that the woman was married or that she was married to his boss. She’d used a fake last name and there were no family photos to be seen.
That was a mistake he would not be making again. He was lucky that Dave was around to help scoop him up off the ground and put him back together after that. So when Dave needed a little backup for his dates he couldn’t say no.
It was really the least he could do to sit at a bar and hang out in case his best friend needed support. He could be a good wingman and sometimes he actually met a nice woman to spend the night with, never usually more than that. He didn’t do relationships anymore, not after being burned so badly.
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She rushed into the restaurant at 6:55 hoping to catch Mary Margaret before her date started. She had a last minute client meeting and of course she got stuck in traffic. She looked around and didn’t see her anywhere yet. She also surveyed the room and there didn’t appear to be any single men sitting alone so she figured she’d made it in time.
She knew the signal; Mary Margaret would pretend to sneeze three times if it wasn’t going well. She would walk by her table and drop her napkin on the floor next to her if the guy showed any visible signs of being gross. After booger eater and plate grazer they had to come up with that one, she didn’t even want to think about armpit sniffer. She shuddered at the thought.
She walked to the bar and found an empty seat towards the end. She placed her briefcase below the bar and took her favorite stool where she knew she’d be able to see her friend no matter which table she’d be in.
She pulled out the pin in her hair and shook it down around her shoulders pulling out the waves with her fingers. Finally the bartender came over and she ordered a drink. She sat back against the bar waiting for her friend who now appeared to be late. She pulled her phone from her purse and scanned for messages.
Emma our date got pushed back to 7:30 because I had a client meeting run late. I hope this doesn’t inconvenience you. See you soon! MM
She quickly text her back letting her know she was there and it was no big deal. She took a deep breath and a sip of her drink.  She put her phone away and suddenly the seat next to her was occupied by a very handsome stranger dressed in a three piece navy pin stripe suit.
He had the perfect amount of scruff on his face and his hair was conveniently mussed enough to give him a bit of ruggedness to an otherwise neatly pressed man. He also had the most beautiful blue eyes she’d ever seen. She could get lost looking into them so she averted his gaze quickly before he noticed she was staring.
He did as she did placing his briefcase under the bar and waiting for a drink.
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He rushed to the restaurant to meet Dave only to find out as soon as he got there that the time had been pushed back to 7:30. He was disappointed at first but when he saw the beautiful blonde shaking out her hair at the end of the bar he believed things were looking up. She happened to be sitting in prime date watching location so he moved quickly to take the seat next to her.
He noticed that she was drinking top shelf scotch neat, a woman after his own heart. He surveyed her gorgeous legs as he placed his briefcase under the bar, suddenly curious about how those would feel wrapped around him. He straightened up catching a whiff of the strawberry scent coming from her hair. She was intoxicating as well as beautiful.
He held out his hand to get the bartender’s attention. He looked over towards her and he could swear she smiled at him before taking a sip of her drink. He finally got his own drink and checked the time. Dave should be arriving any moment and he knew he should keep an eye out for him but he couldn’t help but keep an eye on even the smallest movements that she was making.
He noticed her looking around the room. He started to feel a little jealous; perhaps she was waiting for a date. He took a sip of his whiskey and looked towards the door.  He needed to focus on his friend, after all that was why he was there. He’d just have to hope the gorgeous blonde would be here for awhile.
She watched his beautiful blue eyes drink her in. She knew what she was doing and this guy was hot. She couldn’t help but tease him a little after she caught him taking an eyeful of her legs. She felt a rush of heat at the thought of his hands possibly rubbing up against leg as he sat up. She pushed those thoughts aside, for all she knew he was waiting for a date. Mary Margaret was going to be here any second and she needed to focus on her friend as promised. She didn’t want her friend kissing a booger eater.
She hoped to god for once Mary Margaret was right and this date was the one. If so maybe she could focus on her own needs and perhaps throw her celibacy out the window. She just had to hope this beautiful man was still here after the drama unfolded so she could at least get his number.
When she turned her focus back to him she noticed he was looking at the door. She felt a pit of despair at the thought that maybe he was actually waiting for someone. She picked up her drink and took a long sip letting the burn in her throat distract her. She focused back into the room and noticed Mary Margaret walking in with a blonde gentleman.
He looked like a decent person so far, neatly pressed, hair coiffed nicely and he pulled out her chair for her; very chivalrous. She was going to give him points for that. She took another sip and kept watch.
Ah, finally Dave shows up with his date; a petite woman with short brown hair that framed her pretty face. She was dressed professionally but feminine. So far she seemed Dave’s type and no red flags were going off. He sat back and took a sip of his drink as he watched. Out of the corner of his eye he happened to catch the gorgeous blonde next to him gazing in the same direction.  He smiled and took another sip. Perhaps she was on a mission of mercy herself.
She finished her drink and put the empty glass on the bar never taking her eyes off the table with her friend. Mary Margaret appeared to be having a good time. She was smiling and laughing. Her date had his napkin in his lap, kept his fingers out of any orifices that were visible and only had eyes for her dear friend. She smiled and turned back to the bar looking to signal the bartender meeting a gorgeous pair of blue eyes in the process.
She blinked slowly and then noticed the smile grow across his face.”Let me get that for you. Scotch?”
She smiled, he had a beautiful voice and accent that did things to her.”Neat please.”
He ordered two and turned back to face her extending his hand.”Killian Jones.”
She took his hand and felt a bit of electricity pass between them.”Emma Swan.”
The bartender placed fresh drinks in front of them and she picked it up to take a sip. She already felt relaxed after the first one. “So Killian, what brings you here tonight?”
“I suspect you are here for the same reason as I, in the duty of a friend.”
She looked over at the table where her friend was still smiling and laughing and turned back to him.”Internet date from hell watch, you too?”
He took a sip of his drink and smiled.”Aye, my best friend Dave swears he will meet his soul mate if he keeps trying.”
She laughed.”Mary Margaret is the same way. There have been some real winners. Please tell me your friend is normal.”
He laughed.”Aye, Dave is the most normal man I’ve ever met. Perhaps they have fulfilled their match. They look to be hitting it off, both of them seem equally happy.”
She looked over wistfully.”Yeah, I’m happy to see her smile. She’s one of the most decent and kind people I’ve ever met.”
“Dave as well. It’s nice to see him smiling on one of these for once.”
She took another sip of her drink.”So its safe to say your friend is not a booger eater?”
He laughed.”No, I’ve never seen him eat a booger. Is it safe to say your friend isn’t going to break any dishes or shout obscenities?”
“No, that’s happened?”
He chuckled.“Aye, he’s been on a few wild dates.”
“And I thought I had it bad watching some of her dates. No, I can assure you that she will not break any dishes and if she did she would be cleaning them up and begging the restaurant for forgiveness.”
“Wow, she does sound perfect for Dave.”
“What do you usually do if the date goes well?”
He shook his head.”Not sure, none of them have so far. These things usually end with me rescuing him from a psycho and taking him to another pub where we play pool or darts.”
“Hmm, yeah none of them have ever gone well for Mary Margaret either.Same with us but we get a sampler, drinks and laugh about whatever crazy guy she went out with.”
“What do you say we relieve ourselves of duty, find another pub and make a night of it together?”
She eyed him cautiously remembering her promise to put herself out there.”I want to let Mary Margaret know, just in case. How do I know you aren’t just telling me he’s a good guy, then I leave and he’s a creep.”
“Trust me Darling. Dave is one of the best people I know. He’s as far from a creep as you can get.”
She looked over once more to Mary Margaret who was smiling bright and focused completely on the man in front of her. “Alright. I’m game. Let’s go.”
“Brilliant. There’s a great little place a few doors down from here.”
“The Eagle, that’s where we usually go, they have great food.”
“Us as well. Seems great minds think alike.”
He climbed from his stool and extended his hand helping her down from hers. He bent down and grabbed both of their briefcases and extended his arm to her. She took her briefcase and his arm as they walked towards the door. They both looked towards their friend’s table as they left unable to catch either of their eyes because both were so wrapped in each other.
“Looks like we’re in the clear.”
He gazed into her beautiful green eyes trying to figure out what he did exactly to be this lucky.“Indeed. Let’s make the most of the rest of this night.”
She smiled and couldn’t wait to hear Mary Margaret’s story in the morning, hopeful she’d have one of her own.
Ch.2
She held onto him closely as they walked out into the cool night air. It had been raining earlier so the usual city odors had been replaced by fresh air. He pushed open the door to the pub and let her go in ahead of him. So far he seemed like a gentleman.
She gazed into his eyes as she passed through the door. “Thank you.”
“Of course.”
The hostess sat them in one of the booths off to the side. She never noticed that the ambiance in the pub lent itself very nicely for a date. Usually she was trying to soothe Mary Margaret’s tender feelings after her awful date so she never noticed.
She slid into the booth across from him and he smiled.”Well this was a nice turn of events. Normally Dave and I are pounding shots at the bar, knocking balls around on the billiards tables and he’s covering for the mishap he’d escaped from. I never noticed how nice it was in here before.”
She smiled.”I was just thinking the same thing.”
“What was it you mentioned your order when you come in here?”
“Oh the Eagle Sampler. It’s salty and greasy, comfort foods.”
He waggled his eyebrows. “What do you say Swan? Are you up for a little salty and greasy.”
She laughed.”Sounds good. You also mentioned shots?”
“Aye, Rum.”
“I’m game if you are. It’s been a hell of a week.”
He couldn’t help but notice the twinkle in her beautiful emerald eyes as she smiled back at him, just a glint of mischief present when she challenged him. Of course he’d agreed. It was nice to have a little fun instead of using the alcohol as a means to distract a friend who felt their heart was broken.
The waitress set them up with shots and put in their order for the sampler platter. He slid one of the shot glasses to her and picked one up himself. “To all the psycho dates our friends have endured that have led us to this moment.” She smiled and threw back her shot.  He slid her another and this time she gave the toast.”To being good wingmen.”  He held up his shot.”Cheers.” She knocked his glass with her own and tossed back the shot.
He watched her intently as she regaled him of stories of some of Mary Margaret’s past experiences. He couldn’t help but laugh. They’d each order a pint as well while they waited for their food to arrive. She was easy to talk to and didn’t seem to hold back her opinion. He liked that she was a bit of a spitfire. He also couldn’t remember ever having a date that was this much fun.
Mary Margaret would probably have her dating rules book out pointing to the rules that she was breaking at that moment, eating greasy food, drinking heavily, laughing, just being herself. The rules all felt phony to her and she wasn’t into playing games. That was probably one reason she begged off dating for so long. She liked herself and didn’t want to be anyone else.
Their steaming plate mixed fried foods soon came out and the waitress placed it in the middle of their table along with plates.
“Good Call Swan.”
“I know, I’m starving, the onion rings are the best here.”
She handed him one of the small plates and her fingers lightly brushed against his in the process. She felt a warmth rush to her cheeks when she noticed him smiling. As they ate their plate of fried cheeses, onion rings, potato wedges, chicken fingers and jalapeño poppers they learned they had a lot in common.
They were both professionals who worked way too much likely because they were both burned by a disaster of an ex. Neither of them took time to date themselves but always made time for their friends and their friend’s disastrous dates and neither of them had family to speak of outside of the aforementioned friends.
By the time they’d finished as much of the sampler as they could eat they were both laughing and she’d moved comfortably into the booth next to him.  He held her hand as he spoke to her, telling her tales about his days in university with Dave. They’d been best friends since freshman year.
She told him about how she first met Mary Margaret as interns for their company. They were thick as thieves from day one and the only interns to have been offered permanent positions with the company.  
The night went on and soon they were the only two left and the bartender was starting to give them the evil eye.
“So Lass can I interest you in a lift home?”
She ran her fingers up the buttons on his shirt and looked up through her lashes smiling.”I’m not sure either of us should drive.”
“I was thinking we could share a cab. I didn’t bring my car since these nights usually end in us being poured into a cab and Dave sleeping on my couch.”
“I don’t have my car either.”
“Cab it is then.”
He paid the bill as she slid out of the booth and he climbed out after her pulling out their briefcases behind him. She took hers in hand as well as his extended arm. This time she couldn’t help snuggling into his side. He was warm and he smelled delicious.
They walked out of the pub together towards the corner to get into the waiting cab. He pulled open the door and she slid inside. He climbed in after her and closed the door.
“Where to?” asked the cabbie.
He turned to face her realizing he didn’t know her address. She smiled never taking her eyes from him and replied. “184 N Freedom St.”
He slid over on the seat closer to her and she slipped her hand into his. He caressed the back of her thumb with his hoping their touch was having the same effect on her as it was him. He looked into her beautiful green eyes twinkling as they past under the city lights feeling the hum of electricity under his skin. He looked to her full lips hopeful that he would at the very least be able to kiss her.  
She licked her lips in anticipation. He was driving her wild rubbing his thumb over hers so she inched closer, her face inches from his now. She saw his eyebrow quirk up and the little grin grow on his face. She blinked her eyes slowly and looked towards his lips.
He leaned in closing the distance and capturing her lips in a soft sensual kiss. The electricity sparked between them as she slid her hands up and wove her fingers into his hair hungry for more. His hands gripped her hips and pulled her as close as he could get without her being on top of him. He couldn’t get enough of her and desperately hoped it was a long ride to her apartment.
The cab came to a stop rousing them back to reality and they broke apart slowly, panting with kiss swollen lips. She gripped his tie in her hand unable to control the smile on her face.”Come up?” He grinned. “I thought you’d never ask.”  He pulled the fair from his wallet and handed it to the cabbie never releasing her from his hungry gaze.
He held her close to his side as they maneuvered past her doorman, down the hallway and finally into her apartment. She barely had the door closed before he had her back pressed against it and his lips on her neck working slowly on her most sensitive area, which she happened to mention earlier in the evening.
She pulled his face back up to hers and caught his smirk before capturing his lips against hers in a fury. One hand held her close, the length of her pressed against him while the other slid its way down her body and over her soft curve towards her sensitive nipple. He stroked it through the thin fabric of her dress eliciting a soft moan from her and a jolt of heat to her core.  
She pulled at his tie and he unzipped the back of her dress. She ripped open his shirt, buttons flying everywhere and he slid her dress down from her body.
He dropped back slightly still holding her hand admiring her body in the thinly veiled scraps of lace that remained reverently. “God you’re gorgeous.” She smiled and pulled him back to her capturing his lips and kissing him sensually as she worked on his belt helping him slide out of his pants. It had been far too long and he was too delicious to stop kissing him.
He slid his hands down the sides of her body hitching her left leg up over his hip giving him access to slide between her thighs and flush against her so that every curve of her body was brushing against him. He could feel the wet heat coming through the silky lace against his hardened length as he pressed into her.
She moaned in his mouth as the friction continued to tease her as his hips rocked forward and back. She wrapped her arms around his neck and rubbed her center against him in sync with his rhythm. He was rock hard and she wanted to feel him, she needed to feel him inside of her. “Bedroom, down on the right.” She breathed out. He wrapped his other arm around her right leg and picked her up from the ground, her legs wrapping around his waist, as he walked her down the hall.
His lips teased at her pert nipple through the lace as he carried her. She continued to lap lightly at his earlobe sucking it into her mouth, panting as he pulled at her senses. He laid her down carefully on the bed huffing out a breath and smiling. She crooked her finger calling him to her as she crawled back up the bed. He did as she requested crawling forward over her stopping slowly at her center and breathing heated breath on her sensitive nub, licking softly on the dampened lace.”God Killian, I need you.”
He peered up smiling and slipped off her panties tossing them onto the floor before wrapping his arms around her thighs and laving at her sensitive folds. She mewled at the contact from his warm tongue against her. The man knew what he was doing, applying slight pressure in her sensitive area at first then slipping in a finger to tease her before laving harder and then softer.”So wet already Darling.”
She laid back and gripped the cotton sheet on the bed as he did his best to pull her into oblivion. She let a sense of calm fall over her as she let the sensations of his warm wet tongue and soft scruff against her sensitive heat drive her crazy. When she didn’t think she could hold out he slipped in a second finger curling them forward sending her over the edge. She felt him laugh in satisfaction as her walls fluttered around his fingers and she closed her eyes letting the waves of euphoria crash over her.
He wiped his chin and climbed up next to her pulling her into his side. She leaned forward kissing him with fervor pushing him back, climbing over him, and straddling his hips. “You are amazing.” He smiled.”I’ve pleased you?” She nodded.”Oh yes, now it’s your turn.”  
She leaned over and pulled a condom from her nightstand laying it on the bed next to him. He had his hands on her hips rocking her back and forth over his hard thick length. She wanted him to feel good too. He’d just given her the best orgasm of her life. She slid back and pulled off his boxers letting his cock free from its cottony confinement.
She looked at him with wide eyes and he grinned. She sent him a saucy wink, took him in her hand and began to pump him slowly working him up.”Feels good.” He relaxed back against the pillows as she leaned forward, licked her lips and swirled her tongue around the tip before taking in his length coating him. He groaned in pleasure as she let him fuck her mouth slowly.
She enjoyed eliciting each moan from him and she also enjoyed teasing him. “Love.” he breathed trying to let her know he was close. She slipped back and pealed open the foil package sliding it over his length. She crawled forward over his body capturing his lips for a sensual kiss as she lined up her tight heat against the tip of his cock. She leaned back pulling him with her as he filled her. She dropped her head back as he held her letting her get used to his size.
She felt amazing, tight hot and wet. “Emma, so good.”  He didn’t know if he was going to last long after the amazing treatment he’d already gotten from her. This was too good to be true. He pulled her forward and pressed wet kisses up her neck to her lips. She straddled him sliding up and down against his hard cock. He felt so good, nearly losing herself when he filled her. It’d been too long since she felt this good. His hands were on her hips lifting her up and down as his lips found her sensitive area again.
She cupped his face pulling his lips back to her and she took control again riding him hard and fast. She cried out when she found the angle that hit her most pleasurable spot. He took control again pushing into her until he felt her fluttering around him finally allowing him to let go too. He breathed her name against her shoulder as he held her tight biting her soft skin lightly. “Emma.”
She hugged his face close to her chest as she breathed against his dampened hair. She pressed a kiss to his crown as she felt him pressing lazy kisses against her breast. She huffed out a breath and pushed him back down onto the soft blankets lying on top of him.
“That was.” He breathed. “I know.” He leaned forward and kissed her forehead smoothing his hand down her back and holding her tight against him. She laughed as she trailed her fingers through the dusting of hair on his chest. “What’s funny Love?”
“It’s just, this isn’t how I expected tonight to go.” He kissed the top of her head again. He couldn’t believe it either. “Better than expected I hope?”  She looked up into his eyes.”Oh yes, way better than expected.” He smiled and raised his eyebrows, clearly ego stroking was in order and definitely appropriate.
His expression changed to one of hopeful.”Will I see you again?”
She quirked an eyebrow and smiled.” Leaving so soon? I haven’t even shown you my best moves yet.”
He laughed.”I hoped but things have been going so well that I didn’t want to push my luck.”
“I was hoping you’d stay and maybe we can figure this out over breakfast tomorrow.”
He pulled her up and kissed the tip of her nose.”I make an excellent omelet.”
She rubbed her nose lightly against his trying to figure out how he was real.”Good.”
He spent the night and the rest of the weekend. Neither of them expected to find the one, as Mary Margaret or David would explain it, but somehow they just fit. He left late Sunday night with the promise to meet her for dinner after work the following day.
When she strolled in wearing her favorite scarf to hide several love bites on her most sensitive spot Mary Margaret was suspicious. Her friend followed her to the coffee station.
“Emma, where have you been? I’ve been trying to reach you all weekend. I have the most amazing news.”
She hummed to herself smiling as she tore open the packet of sugar and poured it into her mug before turning to face her friend’s smiling face.”Let me guess, you finally met the man of your dreams.”
“Yes. He is the one. Oh Emma we laughed the whole time. When I went to find you to let you know the coast was clear you’d already left. David and I spent the whole weekend together. He’s amazing. In fact when I told him about you he mentioned he had a friend that you might like.”
She laughed to herself as she took a sip of her coffee.”Oh did he now?”
“Yes, He had a friend waiting for him to give the all clear signal too.”
She smiled.”What would you say if I told you that you weren’t the only person to meet the man of her dreams in the restaurant that night?”
“No, Killian Jones? Emma really!”
She nodded.”Oh yes and David was right. We are perfect for each other.”
Mary Margaret jumped up and down giggling.”All it took was dating a few booger eating armpit sniffers to find them. Tell me everything!”
She wrapped her arm over her friend’s shoulders and told her all about her weekend, sparing some of the details that were reserved for just her and her new boyfriend. She was still getting used to that title but she wasn’t scared at all, in fact she was looking forward to everything that came with it.
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baldysims · 5 years
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Strange Legacy 3.3
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This one’s going to be a short one, guys.
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When last we left off, Angeline and Betelgeuse had finally died, and Fornax and Danni’s oldest daughters left for college along with their vampiric aunt Diadem. This left plenty of room for Danni to get pregnant with yet another set of twins, one of whom will hopefully be a boy, because Danni’s uterus could use a rest and so could I.
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What do you know, it’s a boy and a girl. Welcome to the family, Kornephoros and Lilii Borea. Kornephoros is the heir and the baby factory is officially shut down!
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As you probably gathered from the wishing well in the last chapter, the Stranges’ garden has been thriving and we have all the produce necessary to make every kind of juice, officially netting us an additional Seasons point.
Once the produce was mostly harvested, I repurposed the greenhouse to display all of our career rewards. That’s right, Cassie and Danni did it! That’s every single career reward in the game, and another sweet sweet collection point.
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And while we’re looking upon my works and despairing, we might as well get this shot of another 25 Elixirs of Life out of the way.
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Ahhhh. It’s good to have points.
Anyway, back to the family. It has come to my attention that I’ve given approximately zero screen time to Ilkil and Jishui, Fornax’s middle set of twin daughters, so please enjoy this shot of them as toddlers.
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Ilkil is the one on the right sweetly cuddling with an angelic expression to match her personality. Jishui is the one on the left, with eyebrows as sharp as her bangs. The two of them have kind of a Jekyll and Hyde thing going on.
They’re children now, of course. It’s just that I don’t have that many pictures of this time in the Stranges’ lives on account of being bummed that I essentially had to play generation 4′s childhood years twice.
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Trust me, though, you’re not missing much. Six kids + functional relationships among the adults = the only thing anyone does around here anymore is talk about toddler skills.
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And it goes without saying that the headmaster is over here constantly.
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It’s cute that Danni’s trying to impress him by talking about the Stranges’ fabulous wealth, don’t you think? There’s really no need for that as long as the tour ends in the same room as the open bar. I can see why he was such good friends with Angeline and Sharon back in the day; the man’s a complete lush!
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“When are you going to change me out of my default Maxis clothes and bowl cut? I’m the heir, right? I thought that meant you were going to focus on me, but here I am halfway through childhood and this is only the second photo you’ve ever taken of me."
You know, he’s got a point about the bowl cut.
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There we go. Sorry, kid, it’s just that I was burned out on your generation before you were even born, plus I’ve never found kids all that riveting to play in the first place. We’ll revisit when you hit your teen years, kthxbai.
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And that goes double for your sisters! Hurry up and grow up, all of you!
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“But dad, what if I’m the only one she got a picture of acknowledging that you wrote your memoirs and fulfilled the Storytelling handicap for your generation? Then she’ll have to take another picture of me as a child, won’t she?”
Jishui might be a little too smart for her own good.
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Is it really so much to ask that they take a leaf out of big sis Gomeisa’s book and grow up and move to college as fast as possible? Danni and Fornax are elders now; they should not still be raising four kids under 10 years old!
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Although if it was an option, I’m sure they’d be making more as we speak. These two are still just as in love as the day they met, and actually might be even more adorable in their old age.
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Awww. Yep, they’re definitely my legacy OTP. Now that every woohoo doesn’t have to result in children, I’ve been sending them on lots and lots of dates in the hopes that Fornax will roll the want for 100 Dream Dates. I’ve never seen it, but damn if I’m not determined to force it for the sake of another impossible want!
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Anyway, back to Gomeisa.
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Gogo’s been having all kinds of fun at college. Between the coeds, the parties, and the makeover of the house Aunt Diadem was able to fund with her scholarship money, it’s been a blast.
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I expected there to be some friction with Christy, what with the house being occupied by three competing Romance Sims, none of whom are particularly nice, but she surprised me by becoming fast friends with both Gomeisa and Hamal. Maybe last generation’s cowplanting actually took!
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Back on the home lot, Ilkil bucked Gomeisa and Hamal’s trend and rolled Family. I gave her a correspondingly wholesome makeover.
Jishui, on the other hand...
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Boy, I’m glad we have that wishing well. Handling all these Romance teens’ first kisses when all I want to do is get their asses to college would be hell otherwise.
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F.I.N.A.L.L.Y. Kornephoros rolled I-don’t-remember-what but I’m pretty sure it was Romance too (these pictures are well over a year old and I’ve since played him through his sophomore reroll, sue me) and Lilii Borea rolled... well, I’ll just let you guess based on her 8am pillow fight date with the creepiest Tricou kid on the front lawn in her pajamas.
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God bless Pleasure Sims.
Kornephoros was no different than his sisters; as soon as he got home from school, he too went straight for the wishing well and conjured up Swan Tricou for a first kiss.
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It was at this point that I realized, hey... I have six Strange kids and six Tricou kids. Wouldn’t it be kind of adorable to send them all to college and marry them off to each other Seven-Brides-for-Seven-Brothers style?
There’s just one problem: Swan doesn’t have enough chemistry with Kornephoros to work with the True Love restriction.
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Clearly, I had no choice but to make him fall for her sister.
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“Kestrel, we’ve only known each other for a few hours, but you can’t tell me you don’t feel what’s between us. Will you come to college with me?”
“Um... I don’t know if that’s going to work, Kor.”
“We’ll make it work! It’s true love”
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“No, I mean literally, I don’t see how that can work. Don’t you already have five sisters, an aunt, and a placeholder going to that lot with you? I don’t think I’d fit.”
Damn it, she’s right! Pardon me while I go do some rearranging.
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The choice for who had to go was clear. Christy has always been a Sim who tried my patience at the best of times, and she’s been living (and deceased) on this lot for well over fifty years now. It’s time for this perpetual student to graduate.
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Plus she keeps messing with Di’s coffin in the middle of the day, and I just can’t have that. It’s hard enough keeping a vampire alive in college as it is. The lack of a magic school bus has been really killing me over here, especially since Di chose the physics major and her classes are all in the middle of the day.
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So byeeeeeee, Christy! Don’t let the door hit you where the good lord split you!
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Next time: How much trouble can 8 college Sims get up to when 4 of them are Romance and 2 are Pleasure? Is marrying two groups of six siblings off to each other primarily because the symmetry appeals to you a good idea? And just how long does it take to get back on the horse after your neighborhood explodes into a BFBVFS?
Legacy Scoring:
Legacy: 3.5 Money: 3 Family friends: 38x.25 = 9.25 Impossible wants: 9 (Alph 20L, Sharon 30F, Zaniah 7Sk, Angeline 7Sk, Fornax 7Sk, Electra 50FD, Diadem 7Sk, Danni 7Sk, Cassiopeia 200S) Platinum graves: 4 (Family, Popularity, Fortune) Ghosts: 1 (Old Age) Business: 4 Seasons: 4 + 2 (tree and fish/well/juices) Free Time: 3.5 (Games: Zaniah, Betelgeuse, Alpheratz, Electra, Fornax, Cassiopeia, Angeline) Collections: 3 (25 Elixirs x2, Career Rewards) Master: 2 (Social Bunnies Need Love Too, Child Prodigy - Fornax, ) Handicaps: 0 Overflow: 0 Penalties: -1(bills) Total: 47.25
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kowlazovdi-archive · 6 years
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I remember you mentioning something super cool about Yechovkan culture (or maybe it was an aesthetic or something) but I DONT REMEMBER WHAT. So, random facts hoping it's in there ? :3
oh boy have you opened a can of worms here my friend i love world building talk
Religion:
The Yechovkan’s worship a pantheon of nine gods, with Kowla/Kroltz being their honorific - loosely translating to ‘Divine Queen/King’ 
And I’m just gonna give u the whole creation myth condensed cos its not really spoilery nor does the full extent of it come up in Deaths Hand, so!!!(also its not particularly well written but it gives you the gist)
The first four gods to exist in the world were the three sisters Rezi (goddess of the sky, and the oldest), Danya (goddess of the ocean, and the middle sister), and Zovdi (goddess of death, and the youngest), and the Darkness (a similar figure to what we would call satan/the devil/lucifer) which at this point engulfed everything. Zovdi and the Darkness always had a special relationship. It was Rezi that first banished the Darkness and revealed the world beneath.
Rezi chose to stay in the sky so she could better watch over this new found land, whilst Danya and Zovdi went below to explore - Zovdi mourning for her lost friend. 
Danya eventually began to despair at the barren nature of the world and sat down and started weeping so much that her tears became the Oceans. Zovdi sat beside her sister and comforted her, and their shared grief - Danya’s for the world, Zovdi’s for the Darkness - formed Vishka, the gender neutral deity of love. Time had not yet been invented, so Danya’s and Vishka’s love formed in an instant and burned out over an eternity. Zovdi only had to take one look at her sister to know that she was now alone.
Danya and Vishka took hands and together they created the other gods: Svoral, lord of the forests who created the fauna and the flora; Mazek, the god of emotion; Kedaztan, the god of law and order, who decided that night should differ from day, who created the concept of time, who decided that there should be a right and a wrong; and Dolenav, the god of wisdom and creativity who gave the inhabitants of this new world the tools to go forth and create, and to give their lives meaning other than simply survive. 
For a while, the world was perfect. Plagued not by disease, pain, or death. The gods would walk amongst humanity and Zovdi, goddess of nothing, would watch from the sidelines. Always waiting for the Darkness of night so that she could once again be with her old friend.
When the Darkness did arrive, Zovdi would wrap herself in her old friends embrace and she would cry into his chest and lament her loneliness, and her loneliness resonated with him.
Every night Zovdi and the darkness would meet, and her tears quickly turned into laughter and his form solidified. Soon enough the darkness was a creature all of his own, and the two entities friendship grew into a deep, and true love.
The two were happy, for a time. Until one day they were walking hand in hand through one of Svoral’s forests and they came across a hare with fur white as snow. Zovdi was immediately entranced by the creature and called it over, but the moment the creature touched the Darkness its heart stopped and its blood run cold.
Death had been brought into the world.
 The others were furious. They chased the darkness through the world, with Zovdi by his side, until his newly formed legs could not keep him moving anymore. It was Mazek who made the blow. His emotions overtaking his judgement. He cast Zovdi, who had had been protecting the Darkness with her form, aside. Thrusting his hand into the Darkness’ chest, he ripped out the gods Essence of Being, his Spark of Divinity that had allowed him to gather conscious and form, and the Darkness dissipated into nothing.
Mazek’s own nature was changed that day, from the god of emotions he became the god of war.
Zovdi screamed and lunged for Mazek, wanted justice for the death of her friend and lover, but her sisters stood before him. Blocking the god from Zovdi’s wrath. Zovdi knew that she could have forced her way through, she could feel the growing power at her fingertips, but no matter how hurt and betrayed she might have felt she knew in her heart of hearts that she could never harm her sisters. 
The pantheon retreated from the earth to the stars, fearful of what harm they could bring to their beloved world. But Zovdi was exiled from the company of the divine, destined to forever walk the winds alone to preside over the souls of the departed. To teach humans how to release their souls from their bones and to escort them across the furthest ice where peace waited for them. 
Yechovkan’s believe that if you listen closely on a particularly windy day, you can still hear Zovdi’s screams for her lover echo through the gales. 
Death Rituals: 
Yechovkan’s believe that a persons soul lies within their bones, trapped unless someone lets it out. This is why upon death a body is taken by a Votranishka (a servant of Zovdi) to the catacombs that run beneath the continent to be washed and drained of blood. Once the body is drained of blood, the Votranishka will gather her needles and ink - the needs long and sharp enough to pierce the bone beneath the flesh - and start writing the story of the deceased life, whilst also releasing their soul to go to the Beyond. The Votranishka would have spent the day prior going through records and talking to the deceased loved ones so as to get the best possible picture of their life.
Yechovkan’s believe that what happens to your body after death is what happens to your soul, which is why the bodies of the deceased are laid to rest in the well maintained catacombs rather than buried or cremated. They also believe that you should always keep a bodies eyes open, for if they are closed after death then the deceased’s soul will not be able to see, and subsequently will not be able to make their way across the furthest ice to the afterlife.
Depictions of the after life vary across Yechovka, mostly it is depicted as simply another life. A continuation of the one they had on earth, simply in a world beyond theres. One thing is certain for the religious though, in order to get to this world ones soul must cross The Furthest Ice, a near endless tundra where the soul is completely and utterly alone and is forced to contemplate their life. The ice forces them to confront the sins of their mortal life and if you can face them, if you can face all that you are without breaking, the ice will take them and freeze them in the endless tundra. If you cannot face your sins, then your soul breaks and you are forced to wander The Furthest Ice for eternity, always plagued by the visions and the reality of your life and sins. Due to this,  ice is viewed as a purifying element in Yechovka, whereas fire is viewed as dirty.
Gender Roles:
In Yechovkan society, people of all genders are viewed as equal and it has always been written in law so that the eldest child of each house - regardless of gender - is the one who inherits the title. 
Despite this, there are certain occupations that are viewed as leaning towards a certain gender due to the deity that represents it.
For example; men in Yechovka are viewed as being the natural occupants of the forests due to Svoral being a male deity.
Due to Vishka, the deity of love, being completely gender neutral, love is seen as the true domain of non-binary people. NB people are often excluded from having to marry for wealth or social gains, and the love of NB people in Yechovkan society is often viewed to be truer than the love of men and women. Many NB people go on to become matchmakers and become officials who preside over marriages/give blessings to relationships (those relationships being romantic, platonic, familial, ect - the love of Vishka is not confined). NB people are also more encouraged than men or women to follow their passions in life as passion is viewed as an outward form of love.
Due to Danya being a goddess of the oceans, sailors in Yechovka are almost entirely women and it is often considered bad luck for a man to be on board a ship. 
Some facts about Sailor women in Yechovka:
- ships will not set sail unless there’s at least one person on board who was born under the stars of Danya
- many children are raised aboard the ships their mothers work on, these children are called ‘ocean born’
- many sailor women do not get married, instead opting for lovers in port cities and amongst the crew
- sailor women are viewed by general society as wild creatures who are better off at sea than causing havoc on land
- many sailors were born upon the sea, their mothers also being sailors - the oldest line of sailor women can be traced back 200 years
Despite the deity of the sky, Rezi, being female in nature, airplanes are not considered the domain of any particular gender due to them only having been invented super recently and superstitions regarding religion/religion in general are typically not taken very serious in Yechovka anymore. Men belonging in the forests, women belonging at see, and love being the true domain of NB people is simply well respected tradition at this point. Yechovka has an equal number or male, female, and NB pilots. 
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roseringleader13 · 6 years
Text
I Knew When I Saw You - Alpha!Dylan O’Brien x Reader
Author: Roseringleader13
Pairing: Dylan O’Brien x Reader
Word Count: 7,531
Warning: Smut - and A/B/O dynamics - marking
A/N: So I have @bilesbilinskix to blame for this being created and posted. I always had the idea but it was until she bounced up and down freaking out that I decided to actually go through with it and post it. So, here ya go Halestorm!
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Credit to: @roscoeknows / @little-nya Link to original post
Tags: @skeletonangel1998 @bilesbilinskix @golddaggers @mf-despair-queen @roscoeknows @little-nya
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3 years.
It’s been three years since I saw that cute little mug of a cocky sweetheart in a movie my friend Rebecca dragged me to.
Maze Runner: The Scorch Trials.
I was so confused because I had never seen the first movie so I wasn’t following along at all. But I was definitely paying attention to the whiskey eyed beauty on the screen. Is it possible to pay attention to someone without actually paying attention? The answer is yes because when the movie was over and Rebecca had asked me what I thought of it, my only answers were ‘I want to fuck that man’ and ‘I didn’t even pay attention I’m sorry’. She didn’t appreciate it but at least she let it go after a couple weeks. I was her best, and only, friend. She kind of had to forgive me. Fast forward to me being sick for two weeks straight with the flu after seeing the movie; so what did I do? Binge. What did I binge? Everything Dylan O’Brien that existed at the time. Now, I didn’t expect to fall in love with a man who didn’t know I existed and I knew nothing about, but I did. I fell in love with his cute upturned nose and how his eyes just lit up whenever he laughed. The moles that danced along his left cheek that looked my favorite star constellation Orion’s Belt. That brown mass of chocolate on his head that he alway somehow managed to have styled the perfect way; when it wasn’t hidden away in the Mets hats he owned. His veiny hands and long fingers that looked like they could do many, many things to a girl- plus it was adorable how he called them kitten claws. For a good two weeks straight I ended up watching and reading everything that regarded this man. It was unhealthy, really weird and Rebecca thought I lost my mind but I couldn’t help it. Something in me told me I needed to know about him. Everything I could find. I had two full weeks of nothing but just sitting in my bed, suffering from being sick, so I used it to my advantage and learned everything I could about him. Once I wasn’t sick anymore, I was able to move past the brief obsession and continued on with my life, but I always felt myself get drawn back to him.
Dylan.
No matter what I always found myself checking on his social media from time to time, watching his interviews, keeping up with his movies and TV shows. That’s when I started to somehow fall in love with him even though I had no actually met him before.
This proved to be a problem because I always ruined my chances to find a mate. Every time I met an Alpha who seemed to take an interest in me, I found myself comparing them. They didn't have the right eye color. Their hair wasn’t brown and styled right. There wasn’t any moles lining their left cheek. The sense of humor and respect they had wasn’t at the right levels or they couldn’t keep up with some of the topics I enjoyed nor did they meet my expectations when discussing hobbies. Every single person I met fell flat because I began to realize they weren’t Dylan.
I couldn’t bring myself to like them because I was comparing them to a man I had never met, but somehow fell in love with.
The bigger problem was all my friends were already engaged, married and having kids or at least met their mates. Even Rebecca had met her mate about a year ago and I was still alone. Which was dangerous seeing as I’m an Omega and pushing 25. If I didn’t find a mate soon, my body will start to reject itself and begin to attack me. My heats were becoming unbearable to the point that I ended up in the hospital during my last one, which freaked my friends out and made my parents beyond worried to a point that they were threatening to force me to pick a mate, whether I liked them or not, simply so I could survive.
But I couldn’t do it. Something inside me was telling me I needed to wait a little bit longer. I couldn’t explain why and no one was willing to listen when I did. I couldn’t settle because I knew. I just knew. No one I met would be good enough in my eyes. They weren’t good enough because they weren’t Dylan and now I was going to die alone and useless because of him. But today that changed.
3 years later I was finally going to meet him. I had worked hard all year and saved up enough money to take off work for a week and go to the San Diego Comic Con, bought a special VIP pass to have a one on one meet and greet with Dylan O’Brien. My body felt like it was singing as I stood in the line to see him, fans all around me giggling and squealing just like I was on the inside. My outer appearance was oddly calm and collected despite how every inch of me felt like it wanted to jump off my bones and do some kind of dance.
My y/h/c was down and styled in soft curls while I had the perfect amount of eyeliner on to make my y/e/c pop. Soft pink lip-gloss coated them while my nails were shining from the manicure I got the day before. I had to look perfect. I had to look presentable. I needed him to see me and be awestruck just like I have been with him for 3 years now. I wanted him to feel like I did. As the line got shorter and I got closer to the room where Dylan was, something inside me started to feel weird. My stomach wouldn’t stop twisting in these weird knots and my heart felt like it was suddenly going to burst from my chest. At first, I thought maybe I was having a random heat flash but when I looked around me and noticed that no one seemed to be sniffing or smelling something, that’s when I realized that I was the only one feeling this sensation. But I wasn’t going to let it ruin this. So despite the pain and overwhelming emotions, I pushed on and kept at the line until finally I was in front of the door that kept me. My palms were beyond sweaty at this point and it didn’t help that I was the last person Dylan was going to be meeting. Pulling out my phone, I looked over my appearance just one last time. My tank top was pulled down enough to show the top of my breasts but I didn’t look slutty. The jeans I wore still hugged my ass and thighs like a second skin and the makeup I wore hadn’t smeared or needed to be touched up. Which was a good thing because I faintly heard the security guard call my name and open the door for me to go inside, my heart beating wildly in my chest until- It was perfectly calm. Right when my eyes met is and his scent suddenly hit me like brick wall.
~ Dylan’s POV Today was just dragging on no matter how hard I tried to focus and get it over with. It has been press conference after interview after panel. Don’t get me wrong, I love my job. Meeting the fans, talking about upcoming projects, seeing just how big and popular I’ve become. It was a giant rush and I loved every second of it. But I just couldn���t get out of my own head today. About six months ago I had broken things off with Britt for the final time because no matter how much we tried, it just didn’t work. Sometimes Alphas and Betas can end up being mates and having a happy relationship but we were forcing our relationship to work and it just wasn’t worth it anymore. So we agreed to end things one last time and went our separate ways. My parents were supportive, they always are, but also worried because I’m 26. I should have found a mate by now and they thought that was Britt. But surprise surprise, it wasn’t. “Mr. O’Brien, you have one more meet and greet then you can head to your hotel for the day.” One of the assistants said, making me nod while I unscrewed the cap to the water bottle in front of me. I didn’t even bother to look over at the door when they opened and led the last fan inside. But I did look up, quickly might I add, when this scent hit my nose. I could feel something inside me begin to growl and grow, a very loud chant of ‘mine’ and ‘mate’ played inside my head as my eyes roamed over the figure in front of me, taking in every little detail I could before I finally met their eyes. Such beautiful y/e/c eyes. They were like gems and I would be happy to just stare at them all day and night, never growing bored. Before I could control it, I felt my own brown eyes shift and everything got a very faint red tint to my surroundings. Except for her. God, she was beautiful. I couldn’t stop thinking it. “H-Hi.” I managed to get out, quickly standing up and offering my hand to her, squeezing my eyes shut and shaking my head to try and get control over myself. Something inside me was screaming for me to just grab this woman and kiss her senseless. Throw her onto the table and make her scream while I filled her up and marked her neck. But that would be bad and judging from the surprised look on her face when she realized my eyes had flashed red for a moment, she wouldn’t really appreciate me fucking her senseless when I didn’t even know her name yet. “S-Sorry. Your eyes changing threw my off. I-I didn’t you were an alpha.” was the first thing she said to me as she walked over to the table, hips swaying faintly and I had to physically bite down on my tongue inside my mouth to make sure I didn’t audibly groan at the sight. It was something so small and perfectly natural yet it was making my dick strain against my jeans like a steel rod. And she didn’t even know it. “It’s alright. Normally I have control over it. Um, what’s your name?” I asked, swallowing thickly as her smaller hand was placed in my own and the warmth and comfort that rushed through my body the moment I touched her was indescribable. Every little fraction of stress, exhaustion, and worry vanished like it never existed when her skin was against my own. And that scent of her’s being this close was making my head feel heavy and foggy, like I was drowning but I never wanted it to stop. This woman was addictive and I loved it. Mine. She had to be mine. That’s all I cared about anymore. I needed her and I’d be damned if I didn’t have her. And judging from how hard my dick was pulsing inside my boxers, my body agreed. “Y/N. My name is Y/N.” She offered in that soft voice, her eyes seeming to have glazed over the moment she grabbed my hand. I watched as the tip of pink snuck out of her mouth and wet her lips, feeding that hunger inside of me to just launch forward and kiss her. Did she feel it too? That unfathomable hunger just eating away at every logical thought? “She’s the last meet and greet of the day, Dylan. And your driver will be here in about 10 minutes.” A voice interrupted, my hand tightening around hers for a fraction of a second before I was forced to let go and take a deep breath, which I instantly regretted because it just filled my lungs even more with that scent. “Right. Thank you, Jamie.” I replied a bit too sharply, noticing how Y/N got this worried expression on her face for a moment, as if able to tell how annoyed I was. But it was probably a good thing Jamie spoke up and reminded me that Y/N and I weren’t the only people in the room. Otherwise, a second longer of holding her hand and I probably would have tangled my other one in those perfect y/h/c locks of her, yanked her against me and shoved my tongue into her mouth to memorize every inch of it while finally getting a chance to taste her. And that would not have ended well. “I really don’t mean to sound rude when I say this, but are you an unclaimed Omega?” I blurted out without thinking, watching how her eyes widened a bit and her cheeks flushed cutely, making me lick my lower lip before tugging it between my teeth without even thinking about it. “Y-Yes. I am. I haven’t found the right person to be my mate...b-but why are you asking me that?” She asked, giving me this perplexed and almost nervous expression when she did. Fuck, I sounded like a creep didn’t I? “I just- I could smell- I didn’t mean to sound weird I was just-” I stuttered over my words, groaning as I ran a hand down my face. God I’m fucking idiot. Soon a soft giggle filled the room and my head snapped up, watching as she covered her mouth with the back of one of her hands and smiled brightly, eyes wrinkling at the sides. A small smile began to pull at my lips before I even knew it, my heart skipping a beat followed by a soft pitter patter before it full on thumped inside my chest like it wanted to explode. All from hearing that soft little giggle that sounded like music to my ears and I never wanted to stop listening to it. It could easily become my favorite song. “It’s alright, Dylan. I just didn’t think anyone could smell it, let alone you asking me about it.” She admitted and gave me a reassuring smile before she began to frown. Jamie mentioned we needed to wrap this up because my driver was going to arrive any second. I didn’t want to leave yet. Something was tugging at me, telling me to keep Y/N by my side but reality started to sink in and I knew that wouldn’t be possible. Maybe I could see her again but for now I did have to leave. “Well, I’m really glad I finally got to meet you.” She suddenly blurted, that blush rising to her cheeks once more. “I’ve admired you for years and always thought you were amazing. A bit of a two sided coin with your personality, but amazing nonetheless. I really hope you have fun the rest of the convention and I wish you all the luck with your upcoming roles!” She rambled out, smiling brightly at me as she did and that pitter patter feeling came back as my stomach twisted up in knots, but my dick throbbing like a damn pump when she simply smiled didn’t help my desire to stay next to her and hold her.
“Thank you, Y/N. That means a lot to me. Hopefully I’ll see you at future conventions?” I asked, smiling at her gently before hearing Jamie tell me it was time to leave.
Lord grant me something good because I had more than half a mind to whip around and actually growl at the damn woman. But I didn’t. I behaved. Shouldn’t I get a trophy for that? I felt small arms wrap around my stomach, every nerve in my body went insane. My dick was probably a solid pole at this point and I felt like I was about to cum in my jeans right then and there. This woman. Whoever the fuck she was. I think she just triggered my rut and judging from the smell I was getting off her, she was about to start a heat.
Without even thinking my arms wrapped around her much smaller frame, making it easy for me to bury my nose into her hair and take a deep breath. What I didn’t mean to do was fucking growl as I breathed out, my fingers digging into her a bit to keep a tight grip on her. When she pulled away enough to look up at me, I knew for a fact my eyes were red again and I was taking deep and uneven breaths, hands trembling against her back as I swallowed. I needed to get away from her before I do something I regret. “I-I’m sorry but I really need to go.” I forced out, giving her a smile and squeezing her shoulders, trying so hard to ignore that pleading and hunger look in her eyes as I turned away and practically rushed out the doors to meet with my driver.
That woman was mine. No matter what.
~
Your POV Rushing through the doors of the nearest bathroom, I was panting heavily and gasping for breath as I stumbled over to the sink, whining loudly as I gripped the edge of the counter, thighs clenched together in a desperate attempt for friction. Whatever happened in that meet and greet wasn’t normal. The entire time it felt like this fog was filling my head and all I could picture was stripping naked and begging him to fuck me senseless. And when he asked if I was unmarked and then that fucking growling. God he smelled so fucking delicious. A cry broke past my lips as I hunched over the counter, quickly turning on the sink and splashing my face with water. My stomach was twisting up so badly it was hurting more than I’ve ever experienced, knowing that whatever happened in that meet and greet, it sent my body into overdrive and triggered my heat far far earlier than was ever expected. I needed to get back to my hotel room and fast. But given how much pain I was in, plus all the attention I attracted as I made my way out of the convention hall by every single Alpha in the area because I reeked of slick that stained my thighs inside my jeans, it wasn’t an easy task. Thankfully there was a group of Beta women nearby that quickly realized what was happening and took it upon themselves to escort me back to my hotel room to ensure I was safe and didn’t get hurt along the way.
I couldn’t thank them enough as they got my hotel room door open and got me inside, gently laying me on my bed and telling me they hoped I was okay and that my mate, assuming I had one, could get to me fast enough to help me through my heat. If I wasn’t helped soon, I would need to be taken to the hospital again and that was going to be chaos once more. I don’t know how much time had passed since those girls left, and I honestly didn’t care. All I could focus on was trying to get my body temperature down and out of the slick stained clothes I had on. Wiggling around on the hotel bed, I managed to get completely stripped down and whined loudly when it didn’t help at all with the heat.
Rolling off the bed, stumbling steps got me to the bathroom and yanked the shower faucet up to as cold as it would go. I was about to step inside when I heard someone pounding on the hotel door like their life depended on it, making me both scared but for reason excited. My body screamed at me to let whoever was on the other side of that door in and just fuck them senseless. I craved it. Shaking my head, I yelled at them to leave and I wasn’t available at the moment but that only made them seem to pound on the door even harder. “Open the door!” The voice snapped and instantly I knew who it was, that tone being one I had grown to crave and love over the years. Why the fuck was Dylan here? How did he even know where my hotel room was? Did he follow me? That couldn’t be, I left after he did. Looking around I grabbed a bathrobe from a nearby hook and tied it on with shaking fingers, taking careful steps towards the door. “Dylan please leave! I’m s-sorry but I-I can’t!” I whimpered, laying my head against the wooden door, able to almost feel his body heat through it and wasn’t helping me at all. “Y/N, open the door, now.” He growled out, his voice so strong and commanding I couldn’t stop myself from complying. So I flipped the lock and opened the door. My back hit the wall with such a force it knocked the air from my lungs, my ears faintly picking up on the sound of the door slamming up. One hand was pressed against my collarbone to keep my against the wall while the other gripped my shoulder like it was the only life line it had. Red eyes bore down into my own, my breathing heavy and uneven as his scent just surrounded me and all I could focus on was him. Only him. Slick gushed down my thighs in a way that I swore I wet myself, knowing full well he could smell it judging from how his nostrils flared when he took a breath. “I didn’t what the fuck happened in that meeting but my fucking rut came at me stronger than I ever experienced.” He growled, voice so low and dark it made me whimper before I even realized that sound had come from me. “All I could image that entire time was just throwing you onto that table and fucking you so raw you wouldn’t be able to walk straight for weeks. Fill you up so many times the sensation of my cum dripping down those thighs of yours would haunt you and my teeth would leave so many marks on your pretty skin that no one would fucking dare even looking at you let alone try to touch you.” Dylan’s breath just as heavy and uneven as my own, his voice making me whine and claw at his shirt to try and have some kind of grounding. “When I finally got it. This powerful smell of your fucking heat when you got to the hotel, the same fucking floor as me god damn it, I knew. You’re mine. You understand me? You’re fucking mine. I knew when I saw you. You’re my mate. Only mine. And I’m gonna make sure it stays that way.”
His words made something inside me snap. I don’t know if it was from my heat induced haze or if it was from being in love with him for so many years. But I wasn’t about to deny him. My body was screaming for an Alpha. No. It wasn’t screaming for any Alpha. It was screaming for MY Alpha. Dylan. Dylan was my Alpha and I wanted to cry from the sheer joy of that information but I could do that later. Right now, I needed him. More than I needed air. “Alpha. Please.” That was all I was able to get out before his lips smashed against my own, it being all teeth and tongue, nothing romantic or gentle about it. This was raw hunger and desperation as his hands made quick work of the bathrobe and tore it from my body, a loud and deep growl of approval ripping from his chest before I could feel those strong and veiny hands I’ve fantasized about for so many years hook around the bottom of my thighs and force me to jump, wrapping my legs firmly around his hips. His lips attacked my throat and the top of my breasts, leaving a hickey anywhere he could reach as he walked over to my bed and shoved me down, keeping his body pressed against my own the entire time.
I knew this time wouldn’t be much of anything else except for him claiming me and satisfying both my heat and his rut. He wasted no time in undoing his belt and shoving both his pants and boxers down his thighs before yanking his t-shirt over his head. Seeing his chest, in person, was something I never thought would be possible. I felt no shame in running my palms over every inch of skin I could reach, listening to him moan and sigh in bliss at the feeling of me touching him. A gasp slipped out from my lips when he grabbed my thighs and spread them wide. “I’m sorry. I need it. I’ll make it up to you later.” That was all I heard before my scream filled the hotel room. His cock, long and thick which had been standing proud against his stomach just moments ago, bright red with precum soaking the tip; was now shoved all the way to the hilt inside of my pussy. The amount of slick I had been producing earlier made it more than easy for him to just slide inside and despite how horny and turned on I was, I could feel his cock spreading my walls wider than I’ve ever felt before. It was like he was going to split me in half and I fucking loved it. And apparently so did he judging from the loud groan of ‘You’re so fucking tight!’ that came from him as he gripped my hips so hard I knew there would be bruises in the morning. “Dylan!” I whined, tone begging and pleading for him to do something. Anything. And that’s exactly what I got. He began to snap his hips so hard and fast into me I was unable to keep up, just relishing in the feeling of his dick splitting me open and pounding into my dripping wet cunt like he needed it to live. “That’s right. Take my fucking cock, mate. Wish you could see it. How wall this pretty little pussy fits around my dick. I promise, I’ll ruin you for anyone else.” He growled into my ear as he kept up the unrelenting pace, growling in bliss each time I would scream ‘Alpha’ or ‘Dylan’ followed by my walls fluttering and milking his cock in an attempt to make him cum soon because I knew I wouldn’t be lasting much longer with the pace he had set. We were pressed together so tightly that his chest was keeping my own breasts from bouncing around widely each time he slammed inside of me, my legs locked around him near his ribs and I was sure my nails were leaving scratches so deep down his back that it was going to be bleeding and take weeks to heal. I could feel the burn between my breasts from his chest hair, loving the coarse feeling of it but not nearly as much as I loved feeling that scruff on my neck from where he was licking and biting at the flesh. “I’m not going to last much longer, mate. Come with me. Cum on my dick. Let me fill you up and mark you as mine. You belong to me. Say it. Who do you belong to?” It felt as though every single sentence he growled into my flesh made his thrusts become even rougher and deeper, making my eyes begin to roll in the back of my head while everything around me started to buzz and fade out until all that existed was him. Suddenly everything went white and I couldn’t faintly hear a loud scream of his name echo inside the room the moment I felt the tip of his cock hit that one little spot inside of me that made everything just stop. It took me a few seconds to realize that screaming I had heard was myself and he had hit my g-spot. It triggered an orgasm so powerful I had blacked out for a few seconds because when I got vision back and could focus, I heard a loud cry of my own name come from his lips before a sharp burning pain erupted inside my neck. He was as deep inside of me as he could go, his dick pulsing with every little stream of cum he released inside of me and I could feel it already began to push out and roll down the inside of my thighs because of how much he had cum. His tongue ran over a specific spot on my neck soothingly, as if trying to apologize. Our hearts were beating in sync as he stayed here he was, refusing to pull out of me as we both tried to catch our breath. That’s when it dawned on me. He just marked me. Forcing my eyes open, I could see those honey whiskey eyes looking down at me with such love and admiration that it almost made me want to cry, allowing me to bring my hand up to cup his jaw and brush my thumb along the line of moles on his cheek. No words were needed in that moment. We had both finally found each other and that’s all the matter.
The kiss we shared a heartbeat later just solidified that, all of our passion, relief, disbelief, and love was poured out into that one kiss. His lips fit so perfectly against my own that I swore I was dreaming but feeling his tongue lazily play with mine, the two sliding and pulling against each other so naturally it was like we had done this a thousand times before, I knew that it was real. He finally pulled away from me to take a deep breath, a soft hiss coming from both of us as he pulled his softened cock from my more than likely bruised folds, even more of his cum pushing out and dripping down onto the comforter below me. “Are you okay?” He finally spoke, looking at me with gentle eyes as he brushed the back of his fingers along my cheekbone, the action so tender and sweet it made me smile as I nodded. “I’m okay. Just exhausted and a bit sore.” I admitted, feeling him move our bodies so we could lie beneath the sheets, his arms locked around me so I could be cuddled against his chest as he peppered kisses into my hairline. “Get some rest. We can talk about this more when we wake up.” He whispered into my ear, his warm palm slowly going up and down my spine in a comforting manner and it brought a lazy smile to my lips as I closed my eyes and relaxed. “Okay.” was all I whispered in reply before feeling his hand squeeze my shoulder for a moment and then I was out like a light.
~
Dylan's POV
I couldn't help but keep my eyes on her as she slept curled up against me. The way her hips were curved beneath the blanket, how her right leg naturally tangled with my own, her face nuzzling her cheek against my chest as she smiled in her sleep. She was just so beautiful and I couldn't stop staring. I began to slowly run my fingers through her y/h/c locks as I thought over everything that happened today before my eyes landed on that fresh bite on her neck.
She was mine. My mate.
Not once had I ever felt such uncontrollable hunger or desperation for someone, not even Britt. The thought of marking Britt at times would actually make my stomach turn, telling me it was wrong and she wasn't the one. But this girl? Y/N? Seeing my mark on her made my chest swell up with so much happiness and pride, a giant grin playing on my lips before a small chuckle slipped as I ran my other hand through my disheveled hair.
I finally found my mate.
But when I looked down at her again, I couldn't help but frown because I realized I knew nothing about her and for all I know, I could have just taken advantage of an Omega and marked her without her wanting it. She said she was an unclaimed Omega but that doesn't mean she was single. What if she just cheated on her before? What if she feels like I forced her? Is she actually going to be okay?
All my thoughts instantly halted when I felt her soft fingertips brush through the curls on my chest, bringing waves of comfort and relaxation with every single pass on her hand. There was no point in worrying about it now, so I might as well get some rest.
Keeping one arm tucked under her head so my hand could lay on her ribs, my other arm draped itself across her hips and pressed my palm into her lower back, hugging her even closer to me as I close my eyes and let myself fall asleep with her in my arms.
~
It was the sound of one of our phones going off the hook that finally stirred us both awake, my ears picking up on her groaning in protest followed by a soft hiss of pain when she went to sit up. That made me instantly wide awake and I sat up like a spring, holding one hand out near her in worry while my eyes flickered across her face. Seeing her give me a gentle smile as if to say she was okay, I eased back and saw her reach down over the edge of the bed to dig around for whoever's phone was making the noise.
My eyes trailed down the curve of her back slowly, feeling a delicious burning on my own whenever I shifted or flexed, reminding me of just how hard she had been clawing at me the night before. Watching the sheet slide off her hips and present her asscheeks to me, I didn't bother to hide the soft groan that fell from my lips, one of my hands disappearing under the blankets to readjust my growing erection.
Her head lifted and those y/e/c eyes met my own before she slowly followed down my chest. I could see the way her small tongue flicked across her partially chapped lips before they began to approach my hips, the sheet just high enough to hide what she wanted to see but judging from how her gaze darkened when she saw me rubbing my growing cock, that didn't stop her.
“Are you seriously jacking yourself off?” She asked in both a teasing and surprised tone, having turned back to face me now.
It was such a beautiful sight. All those blue, red and purple marks littered across her y/s/c flesh, sticking out and screaming that she had crazy sex just a few hours ago. Her breasts rose and fell with every breath she took, her hands gripping the sheet that was loose around her waist and my black iPhone laid forgotten in her lap.
“I'm not even sorry. You're just so beautiful. The faintest inch of you is making me rock hard, baby girl.”
The woman seemed to blushed before she slowly moved closer to me, one hand next to my hip to hold herself up while the other began to run over my abs. Her touch was so light that if I wasn't watching it, I would think it was my imagination, especially since she was going slow as if to memorize what it felt like.
My free hand come up and slowly ran along her skin from her knee, trailing along the back of her thigh, over the curve of her ass and pausing to get a nice palmful as I squeezed. I continued up her spine, dancing my fingertips in small circles as I did before I finally tangled my hand into her beautiful and silky y/h/c locks.
A sigh of pleasure slipped out as I closed my eyes and leaned my head against the wall behind me, her much smaller hand wrapping shyly around my hard cock, the appendage pulsing at her touch. That soft little giggle I loved came from her and it made me smile but that soon faltered into a groan when she began to stroke me.
“A little tighter, baby girl. Yeah just like that.” I breathed out, bucking my hips slightly into her palm.
Seeing her move the blanket, my eyes remained locked on her face as she crawled over me so she was straddling my hips. Instinctively my hands went to her hips, eyebrows knitting together in slight confusion.
“I want to taste you.”
The way she said those words so innocently made my fingertips bite into her flesh and all I could manage was a small and tight nod at the thought, licking my dry lips. My dick throbbed as the idea of her pretty little mouth stroking it, sucking like it was candy.
Her lips trailed burning kisses down my neck and chest, a soft growl making it shake from the sensation of her kisses. Already it felt like she was teasing me too much
~
Your POV
It didn't take much time for me to get down to his hip bones, holding back a soft moan when I playfully ran my tongue along the faint v-line he had. Teeth nipped at the skin, smirking when his hips would jostle up and twitch at the sensation before fingers lost themselves in my hair. Glancing over his chest, I could see the dark purple marks already forming on his body from where I had paused to lick and suck at him. Marking him the only way I knew how.
“You don't need to do this.” was all I heard from him at first, his voice sounding wrecked and needy, the complete opposite of his words.
“I want to. I want to memorize every inch of you.” I whispered in reply, crawling back up his body slowly when I felt one of his long digits hook beneath my chin to pull me back towards him.
“And you will. You're never leaving my side. But all I care about, if I'm being honest, is getting my fill of you. I need to be inside you again. Feeling those tight walls just hugging me.” He rasped, his lips pressing to my own so softly and lovingly I swore it was like kissing a cloud.
I let him spread my thighs apart and place me on his lap, the bright red head of his cock brushing through my already drenched folds. My lower lips fluttered at the sensation while my walls clenched around nothing, telling me it desperately wanted him buried deep inside me all over again.
When he began to guide my hips to lower myself on him, our eyes never breaking their hold, I couldn't stop the gasp that knocked the air from my lungs. His cock stretched out my walls so deliciously, sliding inside without no resistance at all due to how much slick I had produced between waking up and now. Each curve, throb, and vein on his dick was pressed against my core like I was a second skin on him, leaving me so filled and so amazed. It was like finding that final piece of a puzzle.
“You're so fucking tight still. My god.” He hissed out, his hands gripping my hips so tightly I knew his nails were leaving bruises in their wake.
“You fill me so perfectly, mate. So big and thick. It's so good.” I moaned out, rubbing my fingers through that patch of hair between his pecs, enjoying the rough curls against my skin.
“And I'm going to be the only on to fill you, baby girl. No one else will ever get to feel your pussy hugging them like this. Ever again, you hear me.” he growled, letting me set the pace as my hips started to slowly rock.
Each roll of my hips allowed me to feel him dragging against my walls, that burning of his cock stretching me out beginning to fade as I grew used to it. It didn't take long for him to begin to take control, snapping his hips up each time I would roll back, shoving him even deeper inside me. Each pass I could feel the head tapping so deeply, a place no one else has ever reached before; and in the process of that movement he always found my g-spot.
The moans that poured from my lips were almost animalistic, begging him to never stop. His hands traced every little inch of skin he could reach, mapping and memorizing each bump, curve, dimple, freckle- all of it. Like I was the most beautiful glass statue.
His lips left even more marks in their wake on my breasts, not caring that they were bouncing wildly with each thrust of his cock inside of me. I tried to keep my eyes open, wanting to memorize the way his face was twisted up in such blissful pleasure, panting hotly against my skin as he refused to stop.
“Oh fuck baby girl! I'm not going to last!” He hissed, nipping at the front of my throat before pulling me into a sloppy kiss, teeth and tongues battling while saliva dripped down the corners of our mouths. A thick string kept our tongues connected when he broke the kiss to moan out my name, feeling how his thrusts were beginning to get uneven.
Next thing I knew, that coil in my lower stomach that had been getting tighter and tighter snapped without any warning the moment his fingertips pinched my clit, a scream of his name being echoed shameless inside my hotel room. I felt his teeth lock around his mating mark on my neck and groaned loudly as he stopped thrusting, pressing as deeply inside of me as he physically could. My walls fluttered and killed his cock for all it was worth, feeling him pulsing as streams of his cum coated my walls before slowly dripping out, rolling over his drawn up balls and landing on the sheets beneath us.
Panting heavily, I felt him lay me on my back after pulling out of me, whispering sweet nothings into my ear as he spooned me from behind. The heat radiating off his chest and into my skin was the most comforting thing I've ever experienced, a tired smile gracing my lips when his brushed against the mark that proved I belonged to him.
“I'm never letting you go…” he whispered into my ear, our hands laced together over my heart.
And he didn't.
~
1 Year Later
“Babe come on! We're going to be late if you don't get your cute ass down here!” Dylan's voice called from the living room, making me roll my eyes before finishing up the last touches of my lip stick.
“Patience is a virtue, Dylan.” I teased as I made my way down the stairs to meet him, smiling widely at the sight of him in that black suit I loved so much, hugging all his muscles and curves in a way that should be illegal.
“I don't want my first time going out with your folks as an engaged couple being a bad one because their daughter decided to take her sweet time.” He teased but the smile on his lips told me he didn't mind a single bit. Especially when I noticed those whiskey orbs flash red as they trailed over the skin tight purple dress I wore. He always was a sucker for his favorite color.
“They love you, Dylan and they know how high maintains I can get about wanting to look good on your arm.” I replied smoothly, feeling him place his hand on my lower back to escort me out the door.
“You always look amazing. You don't need to worry about that.” He whispered, lifting my left hand up and placing a delicate kiss on the ring that shined on my finger, the sight always making my heart skip a beat.
“I love you.” I whispered, pure passion in my tone as the words roll off my tongue.
“And I love you.” He replied with a shit eating grin, placing a promising kiss to my lips before we both got into the car and drove off.
This was my happy ending with Dylan O’Brien as my mate, because we both knew when we saw each other that our wait was finally over and we could be happy.
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azulaahai · 6 years
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The Things I Said I'd Never Do (I Have Done Them Anyway)
Summary: After just three months of dating, Sansa has big news for Jon. He does not handle it well.
A stupid lil’ angsty Jonsa modern AU I’ve had in my drafts forever... wanted to publish it and be done with it. Also on AO3
Jon feels as if though he's in a sort of trance. He fumbles as he tries to put his shoes on. His ears haven't stopped ringing since Sansa sat him down, and while it can't have been more than a few minutes ago, it feels like oceans of time has passed.
Sansa doesn't come out of the living room, nor does she call out or do anything to stop him when he opens the door and steps out. The afternoon is chilly - Jon relishes the cold air against his skin and in his lungs, relishes the normalcy of Sansa's quiet, idyllic street. It's an illusion, of course - the world's far from normal - but it's comforting all the same.
It's not even dark as he heads towards his car on the driveway, despite twilight coming earlier and earlier now as winter approaches. He went straight to Sansa's after work, alarmed by a phone call from her at lunch. Not only had Sansa sounded as if she'd been crying, she'd refused to tell him what was wrong, instead insisting he come over after work. She had scared him so much that, in fact, he had been sure someone had died, or at the very least she was going to end things between them.
She hadn't. Yet.
Jon drives without knowing where he's going. The thought of going home to a quiet house makes him physically ill, but endless, restless driving is hardly an alternative. He drives to a rest stop, getting out of the car, leaning against it, breathing in and out. In and out. 
In and out. 
There's a pack of cigarettes in the glove's compartment, he remembers. Sansa got him to quit smoking a month or so back, but now ... now ... 
Fingers shaking from the cold, he takes one out and lights it, his sulking, miserable image complete. Twilight is right around the corner - he could stay here and watch the sunset. He nearly snorts at the thought. Is it Sansa who has made him such a romantic all of a sudden?
They've only been together for three months. It feels like longer, since they've been acquainted their entire lives, but that's the truth. Three months. Her mother still doesn't like him, she still hasn't met his father.
And now ... now ...
Jon is no better than his own dad, is he? His dad -  who knocked up Jon's mum when she was sixteen - while he was married, one might add. Jon has yet to sink that low, but he’s well on his way.
If he closes his eyes, he can see Sansa before him - the way she looked when she told him the news, blue eyes filled with equal parts fear and fierceness.
“I’m pregnant.” She said it so plainly. A mere statement of fact, though Jon knew her well enough to recognise the vulnerability in her voice. 
And he’d ... he’d just ...
Jon takes another smoke, running a trembling hand through his hair. Sansa always teases him about that, the way he always fusses with his hair. He can almost hear her laughing in the back of his head, telling him to put the cigarette out, to stop being such a brooding bastard, to drive back to her place and make things right.
The strange thing is that - she’s the only person he wants to talk to about this situation. From the moment he got into his car all he has been able to think has been  “I have to call Sansa, see what she thinks.” She’s his constant lifeline, his unrelenting supporter, even when she’s angry with him. He used to think he was the same way with her. Now, he’s not so sure.
What supportive boyfriend would hear that his partner’s pregnant and immediately run for the hills?
No one, is what.
He lights another cigarette. Gods, Sansa would kill him if she knew. Or maybe now she wouldn’t care.
“Jon?” she had said, softly, as if comforting him. “Would you say something? Please?”
Nothing. He’d been quiet.
“I’m sorry to put you on the spot like this. I ...” She’d apologised to him, for gods’ sake!
And he’d just sat there, unmoving.
“I think ... I mean, I want to keep it.” Her voice had been shaking by then. On the verge of tears. Sansa hadn’t been on the verge of tears in his presence since middle school. Still, he hadn’t acted. 
And then she’d reached out to touch his arm, and that was when he’d gotten up and left.
There’s no excuse, of course.
(But Jon would like to give her one.)
He was just so scared - is still so scared - fuck, fuck, fuck if he isn’t scared. Just like his father. He’s turning out just like his father. The only thing he did not want to do, the only thing he promised himself not to be, the only person he swore not to become and here he is.
Just like his father.
Fuck.
And Sansa ... Sansa, with perfect grades, who was going to become the best godsdamned civil rights lawyer in Westeros. Sansa, who talks about her dreams with such raw passion and an absentminded smile tugging at her lips. 
If he’s ruined it all for her now ...
She’d wanted kids, Jon knows that. A big family, like the one she grew up in. But not like this. Surely, she could not want it like this. They are so very young, he is so very stupid, things moving so very fast.
The sun is beginning to set over Wintertown, and Jon watches the sky’s shades of violet and red silently, not in awe or contemplation as much as despair. 
His father always loved to watch the sunset.
* * *
It’s late and Sansa knows who it is that’s knocking on the door - who else would it be? She’s less sure if she wants to see him. 
He left her alone. It’s strange, really, how upset she is about that detail - she’s surprised at her own reaction. But that’s all she can seem to think about.
He left her by herself. Things got tough, and he ran. He ran without her.
And now, hours later, he’s come back, though Sansa won’t find out why unless she opens the door. 
A hand moves to her stomach without her thinking about it. It’s still flat - not even a hint of baby bulb yet. She will start showing, though, soon - in a dizzyingly short amount of time.
Sansa takes a deep breath. Another.
Then she opens the door.
Jon’s in a state she’s never seen him in before - he looks a mess, really - hair unruly, eyes almost mad, hands nervously fidgeting as he stands on the threshold in the almost-dark. Her anger caves a little at the sight of him.
He’s scared.
She’s just about to open her mouth and tell him how scared she is too, but that she’s not running, that they can’t run from this, that she knows this isn’t something that they planned for but that it’s happened and that she is not sorry, she wants to tell him that she’s not sorry one bit - 
But then he says her name. 
Says her name the way no one else says it. 
“Sansa.” 
Like it’s both a question and an answer.
And there’s tears in his eyes and probably in hers as well and then she takes a step forward and he does the same and he pulls her towards him, hugging her gently, carefully, as if she is about to shatter and he’s here now, he’s come back and he’s here now.
Jon begins to whisper something in her ear, it sounds like an apology and she hopes it might be the start of an explanation, but Sansa shakes her head against his shoulder and he falls silent, his hands stroking her back, his nose nuzzling her neck. 
Not right now.
There’ll be much to be said between them, of course. Many decisions to be made, many challenges to be faced, many tears to be wept, surely. It’s cold out here - it’s nearly november, winter creeping closer and closer. They should get inside and deal with it all -
- but at the moment, all Sansa does is draw Jon a little closer.
He came back. He’s here.
That’s enough for now.
And far, far above them, the first stars of the long night to come begin to blink awake.
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7r0773r · 3 years
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Other Worlds: Peasants, Pilgrims, Sprits, Saints by Teffi, edited by Robert Chandler
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Now things get frightening.
Barely breathing, the little girl lying in bed curls into a small ball. She listens and watches, listens and watches.
The distant hum is becoming sinister. The little girl is all alone and defenseless. If she calls, no one will come. But what can happen? Night must be ending now. Probably the cocks have greeted the dawn and the ghosts are all back where they belong.
And they belong in cemeteries, in bogs, in lonely graves under simple crosses, or by forsaken crossroads on the outskirts of forests. Not one of them will dare touch a human being now; the Liturgy is being celebrated and prayers are being said for all Orthodox Christians. What is there to be frightened of?
But an eight-year-old soul does not believe the arguments of reason. It shrinks into itself, quietly trembling and whimpering. An eight-year-old soul does not believe that this is the sound of a bell. Later, in daytime, it will believe this, but now, alone, defenseless, and in anguish, it does not know that this is a bell calling people to church. Who knows what this sound might be? It is sinister. If anguish and fear could be translated into sound, this is the sound they would make. If anguish and fear could be translated into color, it would be this uncertain, murky gray.
And the impression made by this predawn anguish will remain with this little creature for many years, for her whole life. This creature will continue to be woken at dawn by a fear and anguish beyond understanding. Doctors will prescribe sedatives; they will advise her to take evening walks, or to give up smoking, or to sleep in an unheated room, or with the window open, or with a hot water bottle on her liver. They will counsel many, many things—but nothing will erase from her soul the imprint of that predawn despair. (Kishmish, pp. 3-4)
***
I remember, one day I was wandering around late in the evening—I’d gone out because I was so bored—and the moon was shining, and everything was quiet, so very quiet . . . Not a light in the windows, and a warm breath of wormwood blowing in from the dim, moonlit steppe. And trembling over the quiet streets—the frantic scream of a bird. I’d already been told that this was the doctor’s guinea hen, wailing for her slaughtered mate. A three-note call, again and again, the last two notes a tone higher than the first. This isn’t easy to explain to you, but such a cry of inconsolable despair, above the dead little town, in the silence of that trackless steppe, was more than any human soul could bear.
I remember coming home and saying to my husband, “Now I know why people hang themselves.”
He screamed, clutching his head in his hands. The look on my face must have been frightful. (Witch, p. 92)
***
Baba One-Eye lodged with Father Savely and earned her keep by doing what was needed." In other words, she cooked, washed, weeded, milked, whitewashed the walls, did a little watering, and pilfered wherever she could.
When we came around to see Lisa, Baba would climb out of some cellar, give us a long look, and shed tears of tenderness from her one eye. At the same time she would intone some very strange words: *Little children sitting there, all so tiny as they are, little hands and little feet, eyes that glint all bright and neat, what they know and what they don't, who shall ever tell?"
Baba was supposed to be quiet and meek, but she was a constant presence in Lisa's mysterious tales; she always had a part to play. Baba was supposed to have heard the dead unbaptized babies weeping in the bog: Baba knew that our maid Kornelia "had a fish's tail under her shift; Baba had seen some sort of green creature down by the mill, catching thunderclaps in his paw and hiding them under his rump. And those devils Lisa had seen, Baba had seen them too, of course, only she didn't want confess in case one of them did something nasty to her. Because naturally a devil hates it when people catch a glimpse of him. A devil is supposed to be invisible. If he allows a human being to see him, he must be a real bungler.
We respected Baba One-Eye and were a little afraid of her. We respected her all the more after she predicted that not a month would go by before Lisa had either a little brother or a little sister. And sure enough, soon after this Lisa came around with some astonishing news. A little brother had indeed been born, a beautiful baby, the very image of his mother, and so clever that people couldn't get over their amazement.
What does he say?" we asked.
"He only talks when nobody can hear him. But Baba eavesdropped. He's got ever such a thin little voice, like a mosquito. ‘Time to light the stove,’ he said. ‘I'm cold.'"
That was Lisa's baby brother all right. Baba One-Eye got the measure of him straightaway. (Vurdalak, p. 108)
***
Mama had been orphaned, so we had no grandmothers at all. We were governed by the old Nyanya who had once raised Mama. She lorded it over us and she ran the house too. I remember her well. She was a short, crooked, wrinkled creature, who knew any number of clever things—how to cure somebody of the evil eye, or take a jinx off them, or charm away sties. Nobody knows these things any longer—but they work all right. You have to make your hand into a fist, hold it up to the person’s face, use your thumb to make tiny crosses over the bad eye, and say:
     Here’s a fist to you from me,      Buy whatever you can see.      Buy yourself a little ax,      Hack this thing from front to back,      Amen, amen, amen.
Then you spit over your left shoulder.
That was how our Nyanya used to charm away a sty, and by the next day it was as if it had never been.
And Nyanya used to cure all sorts of diseases, and always with the simplest of remedies: kerosene, or curd cheese, or wormwood leaves. Once a doctor turned up in our house—not to treat anyone, of course, just to see Papa about buying a cow—and he was simply amazed by our Nyanya. “That old woman,” he said, “I bet she’s seen plenty of folk off to the next world.” But of course we all know what doctors are like. They don’t want to acknowledge old women’s remedies because it would put them out of business. (Bathhouse Devil, pp. 154-55)
***
We liked Tolya’s old legend. Vanya Lebedev, however, said, “That’s splendid, Tolya. Only you could have told it better—it should be more scary. You should have added that the mill’s been under a spell ever since. Whoever spends one whole night there will be able, if ever he wishes, to turn himself into a dog.”
“But that’s not true,” Tolya replied shyly.
“What makes you say that? Maybe it is true. Something tells me that’s the way it is. It’s just that no one’s tested this out yet.”
We all laughed. “But why? What’s so special about turning into a dog? If one could turn oneself into a millionaire, that would be another matter. Or some hero or other, or a famous general—or a great beauty. But who wants to turn into a dog? Where would that get you?”
There were no more stories that evening. We talked about this and that, then went our separate ways.
The following morning Tolya and I went out into the forest. We picked some berries, but there were too few to take back to the dining room so we decided I might as well eat them myself. we sat down beneath a fir tree, me eating berries and Tolya just looking at me. Somehow this began to seem very funny.
“Tolya,’ i said, “you’re staring at me the way that dog of yours stared at the miller.”
“Really I wish I could turn into a dog,’ he answered glumly “because you’re never going to marry me, are you?”
“No, Tolya, you know I’m not.”
“So,” he went on, “if I remain a man, I won’t be able to stay by your side all the time. But if I turn into a dog, no one will stop me.”
I had a sudden thought. “Tolya, darling! You know what? Go to the mill and spend the night there. Please do! Turn into a dog, so you can stay beside me. You’re not going to say you’re scared, are you?”
He turned very pale—I was surprised, because all this was just stuff and nonsense. Neither of us, it went without saying, believed in that dog. But Tolya, for some  reason or other, turned pale and replied very gravely, “Yes, I’ll go. I’ll go and spend the night at the mill.” (The Dog, pp. 192-93)
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unbetaedimagines · 6 years
Text
The Lady and The Monster Chapter Two
Summary: A historical AU. You have lived a lonely life, the daughter of the richest man in your village. One day, you venture to see the legendary Monster who lives by the lake, only to find yourself pleasantly surprised.
Words: 3583 (I am so sorry. I swear, I tried to keep it short)
Paring: Roman Godfrey x Reader
Warnings: SMUT. Please do not read unless you are 18+. All the smut is at the end so you can totally skip if that is not your thing. Some light swearing. A touch of angst. Barf inducing rapturous declarations of love. Please let me know if I’ve left anything out. 
Thank you so much to everyone who read chapter one and all your kind words! I hope I don’t scare you away with this chapter. Tags are open for part three. 
The Lady and the Monster Masterlist
Exhaustion bit his limbs as Roman ran, pushing himself to go faster. His cabin was on the outskirts of the village, many miles away from the town center. A sudden burst of energy overtakes him when he sees the church steeples in the distance. The bells toll, pushing him even harder. He just has to get there before the wedding begins; he has to tell you how he feels. Even though he knew he should not have you, even though he does not have the means to give you the life that you deserve, he at least has to tell you how he feels.
Entering the church’s picturesque graveyard, Roman’s eyes dart about, looking for you. Were you already inside? Was he too late? Just as he is about to collapse, he stops and tries to catch his breath. In the distance, Roman hears muffled sounds. Was that crying? He gingerly approaches the source of the noise, until he sees a ghost-like figure sitting on a stone bench next to the statue of a weeping angel. (Y/N), his beloved, was crying, desperately trying to get herself to stop between the heaving sobs. Quietly approaching, Roman cautiously sits on the bench next to you.
A few moments pass until you feel a warm hand on your shoulder, causing you to gasp.
“Roman?” you say through the sobs, desperately trying to wipe the tears from your face.
“I love you too. With my entire being, I love you (Y/N)” Roman whispers, grabbing your hands as he faces you.
You smile and burry your face in his neck; A sense of relief washes over you.
“But I can not be with you”
“Why not?” you calmy reply.
“Because I can’t take care of you the way you deserve. I’m just a broken, pathetic monster”
Serenely, you lifted your head to look at Roman. “Do you think I care about that? I love you desperately Roman. I don’t care if we live in a shoe, I’m going to be with you forever”
Wrapping a long arm around you, Roman looks at you silently.
“You are not pathetic. You may be a monster, but you are my monster”. Turning towards him, you grab Roman’s face with both hands. Before he can protest, you lean in and gently brush your lips against his,  giving him a chaste peck.
“I will never leave your side again. Even if you try to force me, I will stay with you. If you run, I will find you. You can push me away with both hands but I will still reach out for you. I’m your shadow, dearest one. I will be with you, always”
Without warning, Roman pulls you in for a passionate, searing kiss. He literally takes your breath away by the sheer love behind it. You gasp with sheer pleasure, allowing Roman’s tongue to gently caressed yours.
Pulling away, Roman places his forehead against yours;  You both smile as you try to catch your breath.
“Marry me. Please” Roman asks you, softly caressing your cheek.
“Of course, my darling”
You continue to stare, bright, enormous smiles plastered on your faces, compassionately caressing each other.
A polite cough broke you from your trance. Looking over, you both see Mary awkwardly looking at you.
“It’s time for the ceremony, my Lady”
You look at Roman and laugh slightly to yourself.
“There is not going to be a wedding today Mary. At least, not between Mr. Wyatt and I”
You turn to look at Roman. “I will take care of everything and meet you back at the cabin, my love. I would marry you right here, right now but I think that might offend a few people, particularly the Wyatts”.
“Is this the man you spoke of? The monster?” Mary asks, looking between you and Roman.
“Yes, here he is. In all his terrifying glory” You giggle.
“And he returns your affections?” Mary asked.
“I love her with every fiber of my being” Roman replies. He grabs your hand and pulls you both up to stand.
“Do not worry my Lady, I will take care of everything. Leave now. Go to your happiness”
As you stare at Mary, you realize that she is the only friend you have ever had, besides Roman. She wasn’t just your lady's maid; she was your confidant and protector.  You run over to her and embrace her with both arms. She stiffens at first, then returns your hug.
“Thank you Mary. I don’t know if we will ever meet again, but if we do, will you please call me (Y/N)? You are my dearest friend, and friends don’t call each other ‘my Lady’”
You both snicker as Mary squeezes you one more time. “I promise. And we will meet again (Y/N). I know it. Now go!”
You run back to Roman and grab his hand. He brings it to his lips and kisses it, as you both walk away from the church and onto your new lives together.
Slowly meandering back the the cabin, you and Roman take your time walking back, stopping to smell the flowers and look at the beautiful creek. When you reached a murky mud puddle, Roman scoops you up and carries you across; your Prince Charming. It was so idyllic; just to think that a few hours ago you were in the depths of despair.
As you walk, Roman began to open up about his past. You didn’t know much about him; he was a man of many secrets and you never wanted to push him. Although he was still withholding some things, he did tell you a little bit about his family.
He tells you he had moved to your village from the capital of your kingdom. Growing tired of the bustling city, he wanted a quiet country life. His mother was a beautiful but cruel woman; she had stolen his inheritance when his father had died. Fearing he would reclaim his father’s property, she gave Roman an ultimatum; leave the capital or she would make his and his sister Shelley’s life a living hell. If he left, she promised she would leave him alone and give him some money to live on. She also promised to care for Shelley until she married. Not seeing another choice, Roman left the capital. His main regret was leaving his darling sister behind, but she could not survive out there in the isolated cabin due to her poor health.
The sun begins to set as Roman finishes his tale. You wrap your arms around yourself; the wedding dress was beautiful but not exactly warm. Seeing you shiver, Roman wraps an arm around your shoulder as you continue to walk.
“You are such a gentleman, my beloved”
Roman chuckles and rolls his eyes. “I’ve been called many things in my life but gentleman is not one of them”
“Well, it’s one of the things I love most about you”
“It is, is it?” he replies flirtatiously. “What else do you love about me?””
“What do you love about me?”
Roman smiles and pulls you closer “You are the only person who loves flowers more than I do. You are kind, witty, and so strong willed. Plus, I love that you are not afraid to go against your father’s wishes. Makes me think there might be a bad girl under all that white lace”
“Perhaps” you sighed coyly “I don’t really love you. Maybe I just wanted to see if all the rumors were true”
“What rumors?”
“That you are a great lover” you say with a silly accent.
“You’ll find out soon enough darling” Roman replies, suddenly throwing you over his shoulder. He begins to sprint, the cabin in sight. You laugh and smack his lengthy back, yelling at him to put you down. He finally gives in and he sets you down in his flowering garden. Staring at each other, Roman grabs you, giving you a heated kiss. If you thought the kiss in the graveyard was incredible, this one was just plain spectacular. Running his hands all over your body, you grasp onto his chest to keep your knees from buckling. Without warning, Roman pulls away and holds you at a slight distance from him.
“No. We can’t. Not now” he breathlessly proclaims.
“What? Why not?” you said deliriously, still holding onto Roman’s shirt.
“I need to marry you first. We have to do this properly. I know once I start kissing you, I won’t be able to stop until you are a quivering mess beneath me. You see...” he says while placing small kisses on your hand “I’ve been dreaming about all the things I’m going to do to you for the last few months. I haven’t been with a woman since I’ve met you and I’ve had a lot of free time to ponder, my sweet”.
Stepping back, you playfully circle Roman, running your hands along his back and chest. “Ah, so you are a bit frustrated, my love?”
Roman nods while he looks at your with hooded eyes. You had seen that look on his face before, but never this intense.
“Tell me Roman. How many women have you been with?”
“More than proper. You see, where I am from, there are many lovely, lonely women, and I am only too happy to accommodate them. Are you shocked my love?”
“Not shocked. Impressed actually. You see, I have never been with a man before...”
“What about a woman?” Roman cheekily replies, causing you to giggle.
“No women either, I’m afraid. The point is, I’ve waited long enough. I too have dreamed about you for many months, yearning for your touch. To be honest, I don’t care if you ever marry me”
Roman stops you, grabbing your shoulders, a serious look on his face.
“I cannot do that to you. Your reputation would be ruined. You are my most treasured possession and I will not taint you”.
Taking both his hands in yours, you look up at the most beautiful man you have ever laid your eyes upon.
“Do you promise, Roman… wait, what is your last name?” you ask. You were about to pledge your undying love to a man whose last name you didn’t even know. Not that you cared exactly.
“Godfrey” he replies quietly.
“Oh, like the royal family?” you casually observe.
“Yes; I believe they are distant relations of mine”
“Oh. Well, Roman Godfrey, do you promise, before me and God, to love me forever? To be faithful and kind and to always stay by my side?”
“I do” he says, stroking your cheek.
“And I, (Y/N) (L/N), promise, before you and God, to always love you, to be faithful, to take care of you and make you feel my love for you every day” you say, leaning in to place a gentle kiss on Roman’s lips.
“And now we are married. Just because it didn’t happen in a church doesn’t mean our vows are any less sacred”.
Roman leans in closer to you, whispering on your lips “Do you promise me that you will marry me properly as soon as we are able to get to another town? I don’t think the Reverend in this village will be too please to have me in his church”
“Yes, I promise” you say, closing the distance between you, placing an ardent kiss on Roman’s lips.
“Make love to me Roman. Please” you say, feeling faint from the kiss.
The fragrant smell of the roses fills the air as Roman leads you back into the cabin. Once inside, you unpin your veil and slowly start to take your hair down. Roman comes over and places his hands on your shoulders.
“You have baby roses in your hair” he whispers.
“I do” you reply as you continue to take your hair down.
“Are these from the bush I planted in your garden?” he says as he tenderly pulls one out of your hair, caressing it softly.
“I wanted a piece of the man I love to be with me on my wedding day” you reply. Roman is awe struck; Never in his life has he felt so loved.
You drift over to the bed, sit down and remove your shoes. After such a long walk, it was quite a relief. Scooting back on the bed, you lay your hair out on the pillow. Below you is the blanket you made for Roman. It made your heart soar to know something you made for him was kept near him always.
“I’ve dreamed of having you so many times Roman. All I’ve wanted for the last few months is for our souls to be one”
Roman walks to the side of the bed and sits down beside you. He slowly traces one hand up your arm, across your chest, and down between your breast, ending on your stomach, his eyes following his every move. You rise up and wrap your arms around his neck.
“Take me Roman. Please. Make me your wife, body and soul”.
Roman grabs your face with both hands and kisses you with so much passion, you are worried you might break. He leans you back on the bed, running his fingers through your hair. A hand slips down from your face and goes to cup your breast. He kneads and caresses the soft flesh, earning a whimper from you. Trailing down your neck, Roman places delicate kisses along it. You writhe under his ministrations, never having been touched like this before. Roman tenderly kisses the tops of your breast which are slightly starting to fall out of your wedding dress. Placing kisses over your wedding dress, Roman works his way down your body, kissing each breast on his way down your stomach. As he continues, you hear Roman humming “Here Comes the Bride”. Cheeky bastard.
Pulling back, Roman looks at your again, seeing your wrecked face. He winks at you, causing a fire in inside your core. Suddenly, he throws your skirt up and starts kissing up your stocking-clad legs. What on earth was he doing? As he reaches the apex of your thighs, you feel Roman begin to kiss your folds like he would kiss your mouth.
“Roman my love, what are you… ohh!!”
A bolt of electricity shoots through you. Roman licks and sucks every part of you, causing you to shake with pleasure. You feel something building inside of you, just below your stomach. Of course you knew the basics of sex and human anatomy, but no one had told you about this, the feeling of it. Suddenly, something snapped inside you as a wave of pure pleasure takes over you. Quivering, you cry out Roman’s name as you feel him smile against you. Continuing to lick you through this experience, you almost black out. Once you have calmed down, Roman emerges from under your dress, some wetness on his face.
“What was that? What was the feeling I had?” you said.
“That was your climax” he said smugly.
“Does that happen every time?”
“As long as it’s with me, I promise, it will happen every time” he replies with a smirk. Leaning close to you, Roman goes in to kiss you again.
“What’s that on your face?” you question, raising your hand to wipe some of it off.
“You” Roman cheekily replies before kissing you again. He tastes different now; not bad just, different. Wrapping his arms around you, Roman picks you up, bridal style, bringing the blanket beneath you with him.
“Where are we going my love?”
“To the lake. I want our first time to be by the lake”
“Under the stars? How romantic you are my husband”
Roman kisses you again and carries you down to the shining lake. He stands you up and lays the blanket on the ground. You couldn’t ask for a more perfect setting; the moon was full, the lake was glistening in the moonlight, the stars were twinkling, and you were still a bit dizzy from your climax. The air was electric with your silent desires as you stare at the sight before you.
Roman places one hand around your waist and one hand around your neck as he pulls you in for another kiss. The kiss builds and becomes more desperate, You start to kiss along his jaw and down his neck, pulling a growl from your monster. Roman pulls back from you and you chase after his lips, causing roman to laugh joyously. He runs a hand through your hair and stares at you adoringly. Turning you around, Roman begins to unlace your dress. To be honest, the thought of undressing in front of a man terrified you, but with Roman, it just felt natural. He pulls the dress over your head, leaving you in your underthings. Next, he slowly pulls down your petticoats. Lastly, Roman unlaces your corset with his long, skilled fingers. He finally slips it off you, leaving you in your stockings and shift.
Grabbing your face for a short yet deep kiss, Roman pulls back and takes his shirt off. You try to help him but end up just kissing his neck. Roman’s hands run up your body, causing you to shiver. He then tenderly lays you down onto the blanket. He kneels over you and carrasses your face with his hand. Getting to his knees, Roman removes his pants and boots, leaving him in just his shift. Bending over to kiss your ankles, Roman works his way up each of of your stocking-clad legs. As he reached the top of your legs, he grabs your stockings and removes them one by one. Diving back in, Roman sucks that bundle of nerves at the crest of your labia, the clitorious as you remember, or clit as it was known in less polite circles. He then slides one long finger inside you, as he crooks his fingers in a come hither motion. Gasping his name, you squirm beneath him. Roman kisses your smooth neck as he adds a second finger, causing you to moan loudly. That familiar feeling washes over you again; your climax, as you now know. You run your fingers through Roman’s soft hair, pulling a loud moan from him, which went straight to your core.
Pulling you into a sitting position, Roman runs his hands along your body. He pulls your shift off, leaving you bare to him. He stares at you and drinks you in as the greens of his eyes turn to black.
“You are so beautiful (Y/N)” Roman sighs. Roman then pulls off his shift, his lean, muscular body on full display. You run your hands up his abdominals.
“So are you” you reply in all earnestness, pulling a smile from Roman. Capturing your lips again, Roman leans you back, the feeling of his skin on yours intoxicating. Roman grinds his hips against yours as you gasp at the feeling. He runs his erection between your wet folds, rubbing the head against your clit. Your heaving breast capture his attention, as he puts one of your nipples in his mouth and sucks gently. He alternates between your breast as you pull on his hair. He lavishes soft kisses on them before going back to your lips.
Roman caresses your face as he traces along your features. You wondered if lovemaking would always be like this; so present, so fulfilling. He then kisses you deeply as you feel the head of his erection slowly enter you. Feeling the tight stretch, you whimper slightly. This was a bit painful, but also very pleasurable. It was almost like getting a cut but applying pressure to it; both painful and pleasurable at the same time. Roman continues to push further until he is completely seated inside of you. Allowing you a moment to adjust, Roman slowly rolls his hips against yours. You let out a gasp at the sensation. The pleasure builds and builds as Roman continues to pepper your face and neck with sweet kisses. The feeling of pleasure becomes overwhelming as you feel that familiar feeling of your climax once again. Reaching down, Roman begins to rub your clit in small circles.
You quickly climax, screaming Roman’s name to the heavens. The contracting of your walls immediately brings on Roman’s climax. Shaking as you both hold each other, Roman places his forehead against your as you both come down. After a moment of blissful silence, he lays down next to you on his back and pulls you into his embrace. You both watch the stars quietly, luxuriating in the post sex glow.
Exhausted from your nighttime activities, you quickly fall asleep in Roman’s arms. He kisses your forehead, so happy that you are finally his. He picks you up with the blanket and carries you back into the cabin.It was at that moment that Roman decides he no longer wishes to remain in a strange land; he was going to return to his home and reclaim his birthright, with you by his side. You give him so much strength and reassurance; you have made him into the man he was supposed to become. He still has so much to tell you about him and his life and who he really is, but for now, he just wants to let you sleep. Tomorrow, like every day for the rest of your lives, will be a new adventure, full of endless possibilities.
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