#does not realize. it has not fully sank in because not every part is aware of | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

beyondspaceandstars · 3 years

Text

Around Your Neck

Bonus: Part 2

Relationship: Bucky Barnes x Reader feat. Voyeur!Zemo Warnings: SMUT, NSFW, penetrative sex, choking, metal arm kink, fingering, public sex, voyeurism, degradation, humiliation, dirty talk - 18+, minors DNI. Summary: Zemo was quite intrigued by you and Bucky fucking on his plane that he takes some bold steps when he sees you two running off to do similar activities on another one of his properties. A/N: alright! this idea actually stems from a conversation that took place in the original ‘Around You Neck’ piece. A reader (see full exchange below) threw around the idea of Zemo watching and someone second but it took me a while to actually get down how to go about this although i think i got it I THINK I DID GOOD. i enjoyed it so fingers crossed this lives up to any expectations

Masterlist | Part 1 | Part 3

Things had gotten hot and heavy between you and Bucky once again upon settling into Zemo’s place.

Once the gig was up and everyone was fully aware of your particular interest in a particular arm, you didn’t even attempt to hide your lustful gazing.

And something about that sure got Bucky going.

He pushed you against the wall of the fancy bathroom. His lips were on yours from the second he made some lame-ass excuse to pull you away from Sam and Zemo.

Sam had chosen to ignore it, not feeling like now was the time to lecture either of you. Zemo on the other hand had watched silently as Bucky’s hand gripped the back of your neck and your thighs twitched in response before you two disappeared into the bathroom.

You had felt Zemo’s eyes on you two as Bucky fumbled with the door before shoving you in, deepening the kiss, but you had chosen to ignore it and instead got caught up in the sensations of your boyfriend.

Nearly everything in the world had been forgotten the moment Bucky lifted you up and your legs wrapped around his torso. He walked you carefully backward, your back hit a wall.

“You’re driving me absolutely mad,” Bucky whispered in your ear, his voice as rough and passionate as his actions. His hardness grinded into your heated core as he spoke, earning a pathetic whine from you.

“I-I haven’t done anything.” You just about giggled at the end of your claim of innocence. Bucky responded by attacking your neck with kisses, nipping and sucking as he made his way across your hot skin.

You let out a light moan and made your own grinding actions against him. He shook his head, trying to taunt and deny you, but then little begs fell from your lips. The sweet sounds of “please” always made him absolutely weak - not that he’d ever admit it. Instead, he slowly let one hand make its way to your pants button while his metal arm held you perfectly.

When you realized the position, you swore you could feel yourself getting wetter. Just the realization he was holding you with one arm - the metal arm - so effortlessly while his other hand started work on giving you some relief made something turn in your stomach.

Bucky must’ve realized all this as he let out a deep chuckle once he undid your pants and shoved his hand into your panties. Two fingers first started little circular motions on your clit before moving them over your soaking folds.

He inserted the, slowly, letting you feel every inch of his fingers. “So fucking wet,” he groaned in your ear as he planted a kiss on the corner of your mouth. “Haven’t even done anything yet it’s a fucking puddle in your panties. Ridiculous.”

The degrading words did not help your situation as you let out a loud gasping moan. Bucky was enjoying this, letting you be as loud as you wanted despite the others clearly in the house. You could only hope that they had decided to leave upon catching wind of what you two were up to.

But that turned out not to be the case.

As Bucky began adding a third finger to the mix, the bathroom door opened. At first, you didn’t even notice it. Eyes closed, your brain was only focused on getting your boyfriend to hurry up and fuck you, you were totally lost in your own world. For your super-soldier ex-assassin boyfriend, though, it was harder for him to turn his senses off.

Abruptly, all motions stopped. Bucky lifted his head from your neck as his fingers stilled inside you. You opened your eyes unwillingly and looked down at your boyfriend. His eyes were wide as yours were furrowed in confusion.

A heavily accented voice cut through the silence from the doorway. “Don’t stop on my account.”

You gasped - and this time it wasn’t one of pleasure. You started wiggling, trying to get a now furious Bucky away from you. He caught on and ripped his hand from your pants. Angry but still handling you with care, his arm placed you back on the ground. You turned away from the door, trying to fix your clothes as Bucky faced the intruder.

“What the fuck are you doing? Get the hell out.” Bucky’s voice boomed throughout the room, bouncing off every tile.

You flinched at the sound as you turned around, presently decent. Your eyes fell on Zemo who was currently leaning against the doorframe, a stupid smirk on his face and a fire in his eyes.

He shrugged, completely unbothered, and slowly closed the door again behind him. “Can’t a man watch what’s happening in his own home?” You and Bucky shared a questioning glance. “You two just seem to like sneaking off. Forgive me if my curiosity has peaked but this is a fascinating situation.”

“What the hell are you going on about?” You sighed, frustrated in more ways than one.

“I’m a man who likes to know what’s going on,” he crossed his arms, “especially when it’s happening in my space.”

“I really don’t-,”

“He wants to watch,” Bucky cut you off but his eyes were still trained on Zemo’s cocky, slightly too proud stance. Your stomach unexpectedly fluttered.

Taking a deep breath, you asked, “W-Watch?” Your voice was suddenly weak as the frustrations - the good ones - hit you again.

“Hmm, interesting,” said Zemo as if he was casually thinking out loud. As if this was the perfect time for some brainstorming session. Your blood was boiling at his casualness.

You rolled your eyes, biting the bait that he cast like a foolish, edged woman. “What’s interesting?”

“You didn’t say no.”

You and Bucky began spewing protests to his claim.

“I-I was in shock-,”

“It doesn’t mean anything-,”

“You’re insane-,”

Zemo lifted his hand to stop you both. Your two voices were getting muddled as your words fought to defend. You gave in, quickly halting all complaints. You could see from the corner of your eye Bucky watching you a bit cautiously now but you didn’t want to face him. You still, for some reason, felt hot and bothered by this… proposition.

“Am I really that insane?” He asked, taking a slow step towards you. “You think you’re hiding it but you can’t stop shifting your stance and those pretty thighs won’t stop squeezing together.” Zemo paused, chuckling a bit to himself. You glared, keeping your eyes locked with his despite how overwhelming it all was. “Are you going to tell me that I’m wrong, dear? Because I don’t think I am. In fact, I think you’d more than just enjoy it. I think you actually crave it.”

Your heart sank at Zemo’s publicized revelation. How the hell did he even pick up on that? Was he somehow in your fucking mind? Your eyes searched his expression, looking for signs that he was pulling your leg or playing some fucking games but his features were cold with a hint of curiosity. You weren’t sure what to say because, well, he really wasn’t wrong. But this didn’t stem from some blatant attraction to Zemo (even though that desire certainly was harboring deep, deep within you), you had always had some interest in sexual adventures on the more voyeuristic side.

Bucky, however, didn’t know any of this.

For all the intimate actions you two had already explored -- including the new-found metal arm kink -- you hadn’t brought this up, finding it to be some ultimate, untouchable achievement with your partner.

Bucky said your name, pulling you out of your dazed thoughts. You finally faced him, taking in his not-so-surprising expression of wonder. “Is that true?” There was something in his tone that made your heart leap. He was… excited, you thought. “Is this making you…”

Your mouth opened but no words came out.

Zemo opted to answer for you. “You know it is, James.”

Bucky licked his lips and took a couple of steps towards you, focused on getting an answer personally from you. He was very close now, pretty much towering of you. “Does the thought of someone watching us make you wet?”

His words hit the room like explosive bombs. You gasped at the boldness, trying to act all surprised at the question, but your body couldn’t hide anything, especially not when Bucky’s metal arm came up to trace invisible lines across your neck. He held your head up, forcing you to keep your eyes on him. The entire situation felt so powerful.

“N-No.”

Both Bucky and Zemo let out scoffs in disbelief. You sighed, defeated.

“Oh, really?” Bucky inquired as he began walking towards you again, getting so close that you had no choice but to back up. You hit the wall once again, feeling almost in the position from earlier.

Without any warning, Bucky undid your pants and once again shoved his hand back to your core, letting his fingers run over your folds. If your panties had a puddle earlier, it was now a full-blown ocean down there. You yelped in surprise.

Bucky hummed as he let his fingers play. “I think the thought makes you very wet.” He pressed into you just a bit more, enough for you to now feel his erection through his jeans.

As Bucky inserted two fingers in you, he moved his head to meet yours. You grabbed onto his shoulders as the hand on your throat forced your head to tilt to the side, making room for him to whisper in your ears.

He pumped his fingers slowly as he spoke, “You’re really enjoying this, aren’t you?” You let out a pathetic whine. “Yeah, you sure are,” Bucky chuckled. “I can feel it. I can feel you soaking my hand and why is that? Because someone is watching you? Someone’s watching you take my fingers like a good girl while my hand is wrapped around your pretty throat, just how I know you like it. Isn’t that right, dear?”

Bucky sneered, his voice full of arousal and jealousy, at the little pet name Zemo had used on you. You just about collapsed when he spoke. If it hadn’t been for Bucky’s strong body pressing into yours, you would’ve melted into the floor. Not to mention, you could feel Zemo’s eyes taking you in, raking over you so shamelessly as you twisted and squirmed from Bucky’s skilled fingering.

“She is quite the sight,” Zemo commented, making observations as if you weren’t even in the room. For some reason, that made everything hotter.

“M-More-,” you choked out and began grinding your hips against Bucky’s body. His grip on your throat got a bit tighter at your movement, forcing you to let out a moan.

“You want more?” Bucky taunted you as his thumb came up to circle your clit. You yelped, moving your hips even more. His body was still holding you down. “You want me to fuck you right here for him to see?”

Your eyes had fluttered close by now but Bucky wasn’t dealing with that. The hand on your neck left and found its way into your hair. He gave your hair a tug, forcing you to keep looking at him. His eyes bore into yours, full of lust and pleasure. His features, though, were harsh and serious. You felt your orgasm coming in hard. You couldn’t even think straight to nod at his ridiculous question.

Bucky seemed to know all this, though. Just as fast as he put his hand down your pants, he removed it, making you let out an angry, pitiful whine at the loss of contact. Bucky just shook his head and forced you to turn around. Now your front was completely pushed against the wall and Bucky was working fast to get your pants and panties off.

You couldn’t really see anything behind you now and somehow, this got you going even more. You lost pretty much all control in this position. Your awareness was flying out the window. You had no idea what Bucky’s next moves would be and you certainly didn’t know how Zemo looked taking this all in.

Suddenly, though, a hand came up to your cheek, brushing back your hair. You knew immediately it wasn’t Bucky.

“You look so pretty, dear,” Zemo whispered. His hand caressed your cheek as his eyes stared into your blown-out ones. “Like an absolute goddess.”

Before you could even respond or at least show acknowledgment, Bucky entered you full force, his hips completely jutting against you. You let out a cry at the fullness, completely stunned by the boldness of your boyfriend. He groaned lowly in your ear as he worked his way well deep into you.

“B-Bucky-” Your cries were loud as you adjusted to the size of him, now planted rightfully in you. While there was some discomfort, all you could register was the pleasure you had been denied for what felt like forever.

“Shh,” he hushed you, his mouth right against your ear. “You’re taking it so well, doll. My good little girl.”

You could’ve sobbed at his words of encouragement. He watched you for a second, still paused inside you, before feeling that you were okay. Then the pumping began, in and out of you, just as powerful as when Bucky first entered you. His rhythm was hypnotizing as he fucked you forcefully into the wall.

Upping the ante a bit, his metal arm came around to your neck, squeezing gently but with determination. You felt yourself get wetter at the action.

“There you go,” Bucky mumbled, sounding lost in his own daze. “Just like that, sweetheart. Got me fucking you against a wall, my hand around your throat, while we have a little audience. But that’s what you wanted, right? You wanted to show off how you like to get fucked.”

Somehow, his words were so degrading yet so pleasing. They went straight to your core causing the sound of your wetness to begin filling the room. You heard Zemo chuckle at the shift.

“Such a dirty girl you have, James.”

Bucky scoffed. “What a naughty girl I have. Didn’t even tell me she likes it when people watch.”

You whined at the statement but didn’t have much time to ponder it as Bucky pulled out of the way out only to shove right back in, forcing you to take his length in one motion. Your cries were becoming a regular thing now, completely engrossed in the situation.

“That’s it, sweetheart, so good,” Bucky grunted in your ear as his hand on your throat got tighter. “Gonna cum for me, yeah? Gonna come while he watches? Come on, doll, let him see how pretty you look falling apart.”

That was all it took. Your orgasm rushed through you the second his words stopped and he gave another strong pump. Slightly ashamed of yourself for how little it took for you to cum, but who could really blame you? Denied twice, you were always on that teetering and all that was needed was Bucky’s permission.

You shook under Bucky as he stilled inside you, letting his own orgasm take him over. He finished inside you, groaning and moaning pleasantly in your ear as you squirmed. The sensation of it all, from the warmth of Bucky filling you to Zemo’s eyes still shamelessly watching, had you overwhelmed quickly.

Bucky whispered sweet praises in your ear as you two calmed down. “So good for me, sweetheart. Absolutely fucking perfect. Can never get enough of this.” His words made you feel warm and definitely helped you catch your breath.

When he saw you were going to be fine, Bucky pulled out and reached for a towel to clean you up. He was gentle and caring, a complete contrast to just minutes ago.

Pants and underwear returned to your body and you pushed yourself slowly away from the wall, carefully finding your footing.

Once you and Bucky had straightened up your appearance, Zemo spoke.

“That certainly was a real treat,” he said with a cocky smile playing on his lips. You couldn’t really face him and instead focused on the floor. Bucky placed a gentle hand on your waist. “Nothing to be ashamed of, dear. I think we got what we all wanted, right?”

You mustered the courage to at least look up at Bucky who was just rolling his eyes.

“Could you leave us for now?” Bucky sighed.

“Why?” Zemo asked. “Going for round two?”

You shook your head, fighting your own urge to roll your eyes. No matter how mad you actually wanted to be, though, you had certainly found a lot of pleasure in the events just seconds earlier.

Bucky went to snap back with some remarks but Zemo cut him off. “I’m just kidding,” he said and then began walking to the door. “Thank you for this opportunity. It will certainly be treasured.”

With that, he exited, leaving you and Bucky standing there, staring at one another. Surprisingly, nothing had felt it changed between you two. In fact, you felt better now that that little secret of yours was now out in the open.

“So,” Bucky began with the tiniest smirk, “are there any other kinks of yours I need to know about?”

You groaned as Bucky chuckled, finding way too much amusement now. “Shut up.”

479 notes · View notes

ikeromantic · 3 years

Text

Piano Lessons

An ObeyMe! Lucifer fic, approx. 1800 words. G/N MC, Fluff.

The infernal grand piano squatted in one shadowed corner of the music room. To any human, at first glance it looked no different from the version in the human world. A dangerous assumption, you knew. If an easy one to make. This instrument was capable of compositions that would drive a mortal listener mad, or even cause death.

You thought that would be reason enough to be given a pass on your Devilish Music I, but Lucifer didn’t agree. In fact, he considered your ignorance of the instrument and its compositions an opportunity. And that was how you found yourself in the House of Lamentation’s music room every afternoon when RAD let out.

Lucifer was already waiting on the bench. He looked up as you came in, lips compressed in an expression of near-constant disapproval. “You’re late.”

“I’m on time!” You glanced at the clock on the wall.

“If you aren’t five minutes early, that counts as late. Now come here and sit next to me.”

Arguing with Lucifer was futile. Besides, you did want to sit next to him. During your time in the Devildom, you’d developed a bit of a crush on the eldest brother. One that had you working hard to be on the receiving end of his rare smiles and sparse compliments.

Today you were hoping to impress Luci with your rendition from Certovski, Faust’s Mistake. It was one of the mortal-safe pieces you could attempt without risking your mind or your soul.

“Fingers on the keys.” Lucifer’s red eyes followed your hands as you tried for the appropriate position. “Elbows out. Move your left hand in.”

You did as instructed, but apparently you were still off. He reached for your hands, positioning them. Part of you wanted to fight him on it. The rest of you just enjoyed the feel of his hands on yours. His skin was always so warm and smooth.

He frowned. “Focus.”

“Sorry,” you mumbled. With your hands in place, you ran through the demonic scale. Some of the tones were too low or too high to hear. You could feel them though, shivering your bones and raising the hairs at the back of your neck.

Your warm-up didn’t get any objection from the Prince of Pride, which meant you were doing well. A quick glance showed he wasn’t frowning any more. Good.

Lucifer stood and began to pace behind you. “What are you going to play for me?”

“I’ve been practicing Faust’s Mistake.” As if he didn’t know.

“Then begin.”

You take a breath. This is it. You try to psych yourself up. All that practice will pay off. All those evenings you gave up gaming with Levi and Mammon, the weekends you stayed in instead of going out with Satan or Asmo. You could play this in your sleep.

Your hands float across the keys, the melody pouring from the hidden strings, describing the terrible bargain Faust made. The fast, tripping notes gave way to the long, slow sounds of regret, and finally, to the clashing finish.

Sweat beaded your forehead as you lowered your hands to your lap. The tension in your chest stopped your breath as you waited for Lucifer’s judgement.

“That was . . . not bad.”

From anyone else, you’d take this as a criticism but from Luci? It was a gold star. You smiled over your shoulder at him.

The left corner of his lip turned up in a slight half smile. “I’m impressed you memorized the whole piece in such a short time. I can tell you’ve worked hard.”

You felt like if he gave you one more compliment, you might completely melt.

“But -”

Your heart sank.

“I didn’t feel the tension, the passion of the moment in your rendition. You were too focused on technical mastery.” Lucifer sat down beside you, his hip brushing yours. “The Faustian epic is classic. It must evoke the emotion of the moment, the story, that birthed it. Let me show you what I mean.”

His hands went to the keys. “This is from earlier in the story. The Fall.” He began playing in a low octave, a heavy, slow rhythm that made your heart pound. Or perhaps that was just from sitting so close to him.

Lucifer kept that going as he began to layer higher, lighter notes atop it. These sounded almost playful, innocent. If not for the ominous beat beneath it. “Here we have naivete. The mortal at play, unaware of the trap laid for him.”

You nod.

“The music is the story, the story lives in the music. Now -” The lighter notes began to slow, creeping closer to the lower octave. “The mortal becomes aware of the nearness of death. The lingering, slow demise that comes to all men.”

Your breath slows in time to the music, and you can almost feel the weight of your years, few though they are. It is as if you lived a century and now your bones are heavy and your body is weary. Your eyelids drift half closed.

Lucifer continues to play, the ominous chords grow louder and the higher tones fade until both melodies close in on each other.

There is a subaudible component now, and though you can’t hear it, you can feel it move with the pulse of your blood. An arrhythmia that pulls you into the moment. The music surges beneath your eyelids, a spiral of red across a dark abyss. A false light.

“Here Faust decides his soul is worth less than his earthly pleasures, and denies Death its due. You can hear the strains of rage from Death’s denial beside the demon’s triumph. And there, Faust’s -”

The music stops but you can still feel it inside you. Something slick and warm slides down your cheek.

Lucifer’s voice, demanding. Trembling. “Wake up. Open your eyes this instant.”

You wish you could obey. You’d like to but the music holds you where you are. Limbo. A space bereft of everything but the music. Death and the demon, Faust’s lust and greed.

“Please.” Lucifer’s voice is gentler than you’ve ever heard it before.

You feel the pad of his thumb against your cheek. A sudden burst of magic like static on a distant radio. Then silence. Your mind slips under a dark, quiet ocean.

The water is warm. Peaceful. You can feel it cradling you. Stroking your hair, your cheeks. The touches become more insistent. Pushing you toward the surface. Toward wakefulness.

“I am sorry. Please. If you open your eyes, I will do . . . I will do anything, anything you want. I won’t make you practice anymore. I’ll give you a - a bigger room.”

The voice belongs to Lucifer, you’re sure of it. But it doesn’t sound like him. When has he ever pleaded, begged, for anything? You realize it is his hands on your skin, stroking your arms, your face. Then it hits you. The music. It wasn’t safe for your mind and now . . . was this real?

You open your eyes.

Lucifer’s face is the first thing you see. He is so close, you can feel his breath on your cheek. His eyes are wide and damp, and full of concern. You are held tight against him, like a child.

“Can you hear me? See me?” His fingertip slides along your jawline, a delicate touch.

“Yes.” Your voice comes out throaty and low. Rough as if you’d been screaming.

His relief is palpable. He squeezes you tighter, pressing your face to his chest. “I . . . I apologize. I got carried away with the music. And you’ve taken injury because of it - because of me.”

The words are halting, stiff. Hard for the proud eldest to say, and yet, for you, he does. “It’s okay,” you croak. “It was beautiful.” And it’s true. Some remnant of the cursed melodies still echo in the chambers of your heart. Haunting you with a promise that has no words.

“I will see you are fully recovered.” The briskness returns to Lucifer’s voice.

You try to push yourself up, off his chest. He doesn’t loosen his hold on you.

“Stop struggling. Are you uncomfortable?” Lucifer adjusts his grip, sliding your head to the crook of his arm. “Is that better?”

It isn’t, really. But at least you can see you aren’t in the music room anymore. Lucifer must have carried you to his chambers. He must have been worried, but you don’t know why. You feel alright. You try to sit up again.

With an exasperated look, Lucifer partially lifts you. He doesn’t release you. “Didn’t I say to stop struggling? You need to relax until you are . . . repaired.”

“I feel fine,” you tell him.

He frowns. “You are still bleeding from your ears.”

You lift a hand to the side of your head. It comes away red and wet. “Oh.”

“It will take a few days for the effects to wear off.” The concern in his scarlet gaze frightens you more than the blood.

“Will I be ok?”

“Mostly.” He looks away. “Until then, I will keep you here and see to your needs. Are you hungry? Thirsty? Does anything hurt?”

You shake your head. This, you discovered, was a mistake. The shadows of the room move with your vision, growing one direction and then the other. Wide swaths of darkness that catch your eye.

“Are you seeing things?” Lucifer looks back at you. His thumb caresses your cheek.

“N-no.”

“Rather, tell me what you are seeing. And don’t lie about it a second time.”

There is a flicker of warning in the crimson depths of his gaze. You tell him about the shadows, and the way the music still sings in you.

He frowns. “If the effects do not fade, I may have to keep you in my rooms forever.”

You note that he doesn’t sound annoyed at this prospect. But he didn’t ask you, and his assumptions don’t sit well. “You can’t lock me up, Lucifer.”

“I can.”

Wrong tactic to take. You amend. “It probably isn’t a good idea to burden yourself with caring for me. You have a lot to do. Diavolo needs you.”

Lucifer knows what you’re up to. He has millenniums on you, after all. He smiles and brushes the hair back from your forehead. “I have informed my brothers, and the Prince, that you fell ill yesterday afternoon. I’ve taken time off to care for you.”

Your mind takes a moment to catch up. “Yesterday?”

“Yes. I cast a spell to knock you unconscious when I realized what I’d done. It helped, briefly. But you started screaming some time in the night and . . .”

You realize he’s been sitting here, holding you, for hours. Warmth blossoms in your chest. A happiness completely out of place, all things considered. But despite the blood loss and possibly permanent madness, you feel loved. Cared for.

Lucifer seems to read your mind. He says nothing, just places a light kiss on your forehead.

Neither of you need to speak. He knows and you know and words just complicate things anyway.

He stands, still holding you, and carries you to bed. When you drift back to sleep, it’s with your head on his chest, his arm around your shoulders to pull you close.

#obey me shall we date #om #om lucifer #otome guys #otome #devildom #obey me lucifer #fanfiction #fanfic #fluff

76 notes · View notes

stellar-imagines · 3 years

Text

NSFW SCENARIO REQUEST: ❝longing for you.❞

[ Fandom: Boku no Hero Academia ] [ Characters: Midoriya Izuku ]

「 NSFW Scenario of Soft Dom Midoriya with his S/O.」 NSFW under the cut!

MIDORIYA IZUKU

When you heard the door to your house suddenly open, you jolted. You put a lid on the dish you had been working on for the past hour and put down the utensils that you were holding on. You didn't bother to take off your apron, quickly making your way to the entrance to see your boyfriend taking off his shoes. He always greeted you no matter how tired he was but at this moment, you could almost sense the tension radiating from him. He would quieter than normal as you picked up his stuff for him. You welcomed him home and pecked his cheek, picked up his stuff and hurriedly made your way back to the kitchen.

"Dinner will be ready soon. How was your day, baby?" you asked. You stirred the pot of miso soup that you had made and waited for Midoriya’s response but it never came.

You continued working on dinner, leaving your boyfriend to do whatever he wanted. He’s been away from home a for a few days, due to an emergency that required backup from the heroes stationed in Tokyo. Midoriya has this tendency to keep silent about his worries and never tell you right away. You were always worried that he will start to get overwhelmed by his feelings and it would end up affecting his work. Just when you made up your mind to confront him, you felt Midoriya snake his arms around your waist and pulls you back into his chest.

”What’s wrong, baby?”

Midoriya almost feels guilty after hearing your worried and concerned tone. He didn't have it in him to tell you that he misses you real bad. Throughout the entire trip, he was thinking about you. How it nice it would be to have you next to him every night, how you would give him a nice massage after his hard work, pressing yourself on his back and tempting him to do dirty things to you. Midoriya left a few kisses on your neck while shamelessly grinding his hips into you. His gloved hands snuck underneath your shirt to rub at your stomach.

You really didn't have to ask him what was wrong because you could feel it pressing against you. It was kind of funny how Midoriya seemed to be quite embarrassed, burying his face onto your neck and keeping his hold around your waist. You managed to wiggle within his grasp, turning around and cupping his cheek. With red dusting his cheeks and eyes avoiding your gaze, you find himself quite adorable. But oh dear, Midoriya was far from adorable when it comes to sex. He loses his shy gaze once he gripped your chin lightly, pulling you in for a fiery kiss. You wrapped your hands around his neck and he lifts you up with ease.

"I missed you, honey." the viridian-haired male spoke between kisses and sets you down on the couch in the living room.

"I missed you too, baby. I'm all yours." you smiled gently.

He sets you down on the couch and immediately pulls you into a kiss. With your arms wrapped around his neck and body weight pushing him down, Midoriya finds himself laying on the couch with your body laid atop of his own. He could feel the swell of your breasts against his chest as his thigh slotted between your legs. It was then he realized that you were not wearing any shorts underneath. He groans and starts to help you with taking off your clothes while you unzip his hero suit. Once your clothes were all off, Midoriya has you settled atop his lap with his hands clutching onto your hips with your back against his chest.

Midoriya's impatience got the better of him, using one hand to take out his cock while you took off your bra and panties. Once you got rid of your undergarments, your boyfriend already has his hand on your clit, rubbing harsh circles that drew out strangled moans from your lips.You instinctively spread your legs wider for him and bucked your hips forward to take more of his fingers. Midoriya let out a deep groan, elated to discover that you were already wet and throbbing for him. He pushes his second finger and angles it just right to draw out another moan from you.

“You’re so wet here, [First Name]-chan.” Midoriya hummed against your ear while you whimpered softly. He leaves little bites along your neck and increasing the pace of his fingers. While his right hand was inside your cunt, he used his left to rub at your clit which had you crying praises and begging him for more.

”I-Izuku, baby—Aaahh…..Please, faster…..!” you cried out in ecstasy. Your hands surround your breasts, squeezing the supple flesh. Gentle praises and cries of your lover's name spilled past your lips. You were a panting and whimpering mess just from his fingers, you couldn't imagine how you would turn out if he used his cock. His pace slowed down to a stop and you let out a small whine.

"You're such a dirty girl, look at how wet my fingers are." Midoriya pulls out his fingers to show you how wet they were from your juices.

”Izu….want you…..want your cock inside me.” you whined. He turned you around on his lap, now face to face with your flushed face. He used one hand to guide his cock into your pussy and you couldn't help the loud moan that escaped your lips when you sank down on his length.

"Come on, ride my cock." he smirked lightly, laying down on the couch. You moaned loudly, letting your tongue roll out as you gyrate your hips. The feeling of your clit rubbing against him made you throw your head back as you felt yourself getting closer every second.

"Honey......you feel so good around my cock. You look so sexy riding my cock like that. Mgh.....Ahh—Does it feel good to be filled up this way?" Midoriya's voice was huskier and much more lustful compared to usual. You had your hands clawing at the cushions of your couch, body bending forward as your mind clouded from the pleasure.

"Y-Yes, Izuku.....feels so good—Ahh!" your voice was so dangerous, igniting the primal instincts that he never thought he had.

Midoriya has his eyes on you the entire time, mesmerized by the way your body shook, how your glossy eyes desperately try to stay open to look at him. The sway of your breasts above his face made him even more turned on. You raised your hips and moved them down to take the entirety of his length over and over. Your body was starting to get used to the sensation of being filled up by his large cock.

His hands clutched your hips firmly as he thrusts his hips upwards, growing impatient from the slightly average pace you were keeping. He sits upright and lets you loop your arms around his neck. Your pussy was clamping on him so deliciously, it was a feeling that he could never get used to. No matter how many times you both had sex, no matter how hard he fucks you every time, your cunt will always be so tight for him. Midoriya growled possessively at the thought of having your pussy and your entire body all for himself.

"Oh....[First Name], you're so tight just for me. Shit―Aaaah.....this pussy is made to fit my cock in, are you close? Are you going to cum all over my cock like a good girl you are?" Midoriya pulled at your earlobe with his teeth, his voice dangerously lower. The stark contrast of his usually shy and timid personality with his assertive and dominant personality in bed never failed to make you feel things.

"Oh.....Izuku, faster! You're so good―Aaaah, your cock feels so good, haaaahh.....!" you moaned sexily, burying your face onto his neck.

His cock fills you to the brim over and over, hitting that spongy spot inside of you that had you seeing stars every time. You weren't in the right mind to question how his cock was hitting your deepest parts, ramming against your G-spot over and over. Midoriya's hips were now jerking and bucking into yours feverishly, desperate to make you cum first before he did. Midoriya swears that he could never get bored of this feeling. Your pussy hugs his cock so tightly like it was a perfect fit for him. He leans back a bit to look at you and his eyes trailed downwards.

His cock disappears in and out of your drooling pussy. The sight of your teary eyes looking at him and the moans of pleasure from your plump lips almost made him cum. He continues thrust upwards, now taking control completely of the pace. He was ruthless, drawing out the lewd squelching noises made from his dick going in and out of your tight pussy.

“Izu….Izuku! S’too much! You’re—Aaaaah…..so big!” you were practically sobbing from overstimulation.

”Too much, honey? You have no idea how sexy you look, drunk from my cock that you’re begging for earlier.” he teases you with a small smirk on his face. Your begging made it hard for him to focus, it unlocked the feral side of him so easily.

”Your pussy is always so tight no matter how many times I fuck you—Nghh….clamping on my dick and looking so pretty like that.” Midoriya seemed to be muttering to himself at this point because you could only make out a few words. His eyes were darkened with lust and fixated on the way his dick pummels into your pussy. He could feel you getting close, with the way your body squirms against his and how your cunt got tighter around his length.

"F-Fuck, you're close aren't you? Where do you want me to cum? Speak up, baby." he growled, his voice driven with lust sending heat flooding through your already sore and throbbing nether regions. You didn't dare to speak, fully aware that no words will come out from how much pleasure you were in. All that spilled from your lips were babbles and incoherent begs that you didn't understand yourself.

You cried out his name and lurched up as his cock hit that one spot inside of you. Your nails raked down Midoriya's back, leaving red streaks along his skin. Tears collected at the corner of your eyes from the overstimulation and you let out a loud moan. You couldn't take it, not when he began rubbing fast circles on your clit. Midoriya watched in delight as you came around his cock, a clear stream of liquid squirting out of you and coating his lower abdomen. You trembled above him, your face buried on the crook of his neck as his cock continue throbbing against your spasming walls.

"That's right, such a good girl. You're so fucking good girl for me, aren't ya? Milk my cock, honey, shit, I'm gonna cum too! Gonna fill you up until you're so food, you're not going to spill anything because you're my good girl right?" his entire body tenses up, hips still thrusting into you before hot spurts of his cum shot inside you.

Midoriya pulls out shortly and slowly sets you down on the couch. He pressed a kiss on your forehead, whispering gentle praises before letting you rest. He left you to rest on the couch and went to the bathroom. While you were busy regaining your breath and laying on your back on the couch, you glanced at the kitchen and realized that your pot of miso soup sitting on the stove. Your boyfriend returned to the living room with your pajamas and a wet towel.

“Food’s gonna…..get cold soon.” you muttered, mostly to yourself. You were beyond exhausted, Midoriya was quite rough with your today. There were light bruises on your hips, your legs were still shaky and your entire just felt sore.

”Sorry baby, was I too rough?” Midoriya grows a bit bashful and guilty when he saw you barely moving on the couch.

"No, baby. You're perfect." you smiled gently as he climbed atop of you to leave kisses along your face.

"So what about dinner?"

"Takeaway?" you suggested.

"Takeaway." Midoriya agreed.

Total: 2042 words Published: 18.07.2021

Thank you for requesting! ｡٩(ˊᗜˋ)و*｡ It’s been so long since we wrote NSFW. We hope you liked it! ― author Lou

Thank you for requesting it! Everyone has a spot for Soft Dom Deku it seems.... Hope you enjoyed this! ― author Natsuki

Requests are closed! Matchups are closed!

Please do not mind the grammar mistakes and typos.

114 notes · View notes

laurfilijames · 3 years

Text

Wild Horses- Part 2 (Prequel to Slow Burn)

Pairing: Modern AU Fili x Female OC Prim

Words: 3682

Summary: Fili and Prim enjoy a night out with Kili and Tauriel playing pool and singing karaoke. Prim attempts to make Fili see how much she’s grown to care for and want him since they met a year ago, but something is holding Fili back.

Warnings: Rated M. Alcohol consumption, swearing. Mentions of intercourse. Discussions of masturbation. Unwanted advances. A punch and bloody nose/hand. Mentions of war/military/deployment. Slight dom/sub suggestion.

A/N: This was so enjoyable to write, I had so much fun building the dynamic between them and adding to that slow burn. But be warned, angst is ahead in the coming chapters!

The song that Prim sings is linked below if anyone wants to listen to really get a feel for the chapter. (The original song is by the Divinyls but I like this cover better).

Thank you again to @guardianofrivendell for editing, listening to my struggles and always giving wonderful advice and endless support!

—————

“It’s your round this time!” Prim whined.

“No, no, I got the last one remember? It’s definitely your round,” Fíli argued.

She did remember, she was just hoping he wouldn’t.

“Fine. I’ll make you a bet, whoever loses this game has to get the drinks,” Prim wagered.

“Deal!” Fíli moved around the pool table to line up his next shot. Before he did, he looked up at Prim and smirked, a mischievous glint in his eyes. “But the loser also has to go up there and sing a song.”

“You bastard! You’re only betting that much because you know I’ll lose and you won’t have to sing.”

He grinned at her, amused at upping the stakes.

“Exactly,” he said, sinking his shot as he did.

Prim was awful at pool, leaving her questioning exactly why she would make a bet with him, knowing it would result in her buying the drinks and now apparently also singing a song in front of the entire bar.

She focused as she lined up her shot, praying she was successful in landing the ball in the intended pocket but faltered when she felt Fíli’s body cover hers from behind just as she attempted her hit, missing her shot completely and losing the game.

“See, you should’ve aimed more over there-,” Fíli teased, laughing as she whipped around and smacked him hard on the chest.

“I would’ve got that in if it wasn’t for you!”

He looked at her doubtfully, and although she was pissed at him for making her lose the game, she enjoyed the proximity of his body to hers. His hand remained on her waist in an almost claiming way, probably making them look like lovers to people who didn’t know them.

Prim reluctantly stepped out of his grasp and gave him the most devilish look she could as she walked over to the stage where the karaoke machine was set up. There were large speakers surrounding it and a single microphone standing in the middle, waiting for its next performer.

Prim couldn’t help but grin despite the embarrassment she felt, watching Fíli clap and hoot loudly at her as he leaned against the pool table, Kili and Tauriel following suit from the table where they sat.

She knew exactly which song she was going to sing, something that would hopefully turn Fíli on while also letting him know how she felt about him.

After spending so much time getting to know each other over the last year, Prim knew without a doubt that he was the only one she could ever want. Their relationship so far was effortless, friends who could make each other laugh and were able to share anything with each other, the good and the bad, all traced with whispers of an eagerness for more.

She adored his family and they welcomed her without hesitation as a part of their own. Prim especially admired the relationship between the two brothers, as well as the one they shared with Thorin.

It made her wish she could say the same about her own family, but this found family was all she needed.

And Fíli… Fíli was incredible. He still treated her as sweetly and with as much care as he had the day they met.

He evened her out. His calm manner balanced her fiery ways. Nobody else’s personality had ever complimented hers more and he made her feel instantly happy just by being in the same room.

So it didn’t come as a surprise to Prim when the inevitable happened: she fell in love with him.

But it was almost as if an unsaid agreement to take things slow stood between them, both of them knowing at some point they would be more than just friends, but Prim was growing increasingly impatient. She had often tried to hint that she wanted more, that she was ready to take it to the next level, but Fíli wasn’t budging. Maybe Prim wasn’t as conspicuous as she thought she was.

It was about time she started to make things a little more clear for him.

The music started up after she selected the song and she readied herself before the mic, willing courage from her three glasses of wine to grace her.

“I love myself

I want you to love me,”

The crowd erupted in cheers, realizing what she had selected.

“When I feel down

I want you above me

I search myself

I want you to find me

I forget myself

I want you to remind me,”

The look on Fíli’s face was priceless, full of surprise and curiosity and maybe even a hint of lust as he pushed his tongue in his bottom lip, so Prim continued, her eyes locked on his as she began to run her hands down her sides and over her breasts,

“I don’t want anybody else

When I think about you

I touch myself

Oh, I don’t want anybody else

Oh no, oh no, oh no,”

Encouragement from the crowd kept her going, but not as much as the expression on Fíli’s face did. Prim continued her seductive dance as she sang, carding her hands through her hair and down her neck to her chest, still managing to sing despite the huge grin on her face,

“I close my eyes

And see you before me

Think I would die

If you were to ignore me

A fool could see

Just how much I adore you

I’d get down on my knees

I’d do anything for you,”

When the song ended, Prim bowed to the standing ovation given to her by the entire bar. She hopped off the stage and walked back over to Fíli who was shaking his head in disbelief.

“Wow,” was all he managed to say, his eyebrows raised high on his forehead.

“I don’t think after that performance I should still shout the drinks,” she suggested.

“Um, no, that wasn’t the deal,” he corrected her, standing close enough she could see his pulse thumping in his neck. He stared at her like he was trying to figure out what she was up to, and also like he could kiss her. His eyes lingered on her lips as though he was about to consume them and Prim thought how she would sell her soul to have him do it.

Did he still not know how badly she wanted him?

With the adrenaline from her performance still coursing through her body, Prim was about to confess her feelings to Fíli. She wanted to tell him that the song was indeed dedicated to him, and that the lyrics applied to her when she thought about him, but was interrupted by Kili and Tauriel coming over to congratulate her.

“Prim you never cease to amaze me!” Kili said, gripping his hands on her shoulders from behind.

“I think you have every man in here worked up!” Tauriel added.

As appreciative as she was for their compliments, the only opinion she really cared about was Fíli’s.

“Yeah, you are incredible,” Fíli praised her, still regarding her peculiarly.

Her stomach flipped. He thought she was incredible, not just her karaoke skills.

“Oh, I had some inspiration,” Prim admitted, staring into Fíli’s eyes and willing him to figure out just how much she longed for him, but not able to say it with Kili and Tauriel standing beside them.

“Well, the drinks are on me!” she declared, walking over to the bar to complete her end of the bargain. Kili followed her, wanting to order food, or so he said. Kili had a tendency to get involved in things that weren’t necessarily his business, and whatever was happening between Fíli and Prim was no exception.

“I can’t help but feel like there were some underlying messages in your performance,” he inquired without looking at her.

“It was just a song, Kili,” she denied.

“Yeah, one about masturbating to thoughts of my brother!”

She looked at him fiercely. Was it so obvious to everyone but Fíli?

“See, you can’t even deny it!” he laughed.

“I’m not trying to deny anything,” she told him while peeling the label off of an empty beer bottle, beginning to get annoyed by his interrogation.

“Well, I bet he thinks of you whenever he touches himself,” Kili said point-blank, popping a chip in his mouth.

“Kili!” Prim said with alarm, smacking his shoulder. Although part of her did hope it was true.

Once Kili stopped laughing, Prim sighed and continued her thoughts out loud.

“It’s just so frustrating! I feel like I do everything but literally throw myself at him and nothing happens.” She placed money on the bar as the bartender handed her their drinks, “I just really care about him,” she admitted.

“I know you do. He knows you do- knows you love him even. He’s going to kill me for telling you but he does feel the same, he told me himself,” Kili explained.

Prim shot her head up to look at him, “You better not be joking right now, Kili,” being fully aware of the pranks he was capable of.

“I’m not, I swear!” he raised his hands in defence, and threw a quick look over his shoulder towards his brother before he continued, “He fancies you, he always has. That’s why he’s still single, and you are too, I reckon. You’re both just too stupid to do anything about it,”

“Oh, thanks for that,” Prim glared at him and took a chip from his plate, making Kili slide it closer to him protectively so she couldn’t steal any more of them.

“I’m not saying you’re stupid, Prim, but one of you needs to admit it or someone else is going to come along and ruin it. You see how women look at him,” he pointed out, and Prim’s heart sank at the thought.

Of course she saw how other women looked at him, and she couldn’t blame them. He was perfect.

Prim didn’t want anyone else and she hoped what Kili had said about Fíli’s feelings towards her were true. She grabbed the drinks and walked back to the table, her head reeling from the information.

Fíli beamed at her as she approached, his dimples revealing themselves beneath his facial hair, making her melt for him once again and forget the threat of anyone coming between them.

Fíli could hardly believe the act he’d just witnessed. He had run his hand over his face a few times to try and disguise his flush, beads of sweat appearing on his temples as he watched Prim’s risqué dance on stage, making him throb for her all over again.

He wondered if she truly felt what she’d sung in those lyrics, that she wanted him and only him, that she imagined him when she pleasured herself.

The thought alone drove him mad.

Her eyes had been locked on him the entire time she was up there, there was no disputing that.

Fíli enjoyed making her feel as frenzied and desperate as she made him, but it was getting increasingly difficult to keep resisting her. She knew how to play him as well.

And even though he really didn’t want to resist her anymore and simply give in to the yearning want, he knew he couldn’t. He shouldn’t.

Thorin and Kili were leading a special ops mission and although Fíli as a trainer was now exempt from having to deploy, he refused to sit at home while his uncle and brother went head first into danger.

He was going too.

Fíli had been deployed countless times since he was in his early twenties. He had seen battle and horrific things that people could never even begin to fathom. The thought of going to war again filled him with dread, but he needed to protect his family.

If he pursued things with Prim, he wouldn’t be able to stand being with her for such a short period of time and making her anxiously wait for him to get back. It would break both of them. It wouldn’t be fair to her, so they would just have to wait until this mission was over before they could give each other everything of themselves.

He watched her now as she leaned against the bar, talking and laughing with Tauriel, finding himself automatically mimicking every upturn of her mouth.

But her expression quickly changed when a man came up to her who was obviously a fan and hoping her words were directed at him. Prim politely shrugged him off, turning back to face Tauriel.

Fíli remained in his chair, carefully watching the interaction. He wouldn’t step in unless he needed to, and he prayed the idiot wouldn’t do anything stupid.

“That song was about me, wasn’t it doll,” the man slurred, stepping closer to her.

Prim laughed and said over her shoulder, “Don’t you wish,” and Fíli could tell the man was starting to get on her nerves.

It was difficult for Fíli to hear all that was being said, but the man seemed persistent in getting her attention. Prim said the odd thing to get him to leave her alone but tried her best to remain focused on Tauriel and ignore the pleas from the drunk.

Kili sat beside him and could see the fury rising up through his body. He patted Fíli on the back, “Easy brother,” he said, trying to assure him that she would be fine, knowing what damage Fíli could do to the other man if provoked.

It wasn’t until the man grabbed her ass and she flew around to punch him that Fíli stood from where he was seated and quickly made his way over. He knew Prim could hold her own, and judging by the way the guy was holding his bloody nose, she had done the job. Regardless, he needed to give this asshole a piece of his mind.

Fíli took hold of the man’s collar and held him upright after being folded over from Prim’s punch, his feet now barely touching the ground.

“Touch her or go near her again and you’ll regret ever laying eyes on her, mate,” Fíli spat in his face, his rage ready to erupt at any second.

The man nodded in a terrified manner, and scrambled away as soon as Fíli released him from his grip.

Fíli brushed his hair back out of his face and turned to Prim, who was shaking her hand out and looking slightly unsettled.

“Are you alright?” he asked, his anger now turned to worry, never wanting any harm to come to her.

“Yes, I’m fine. He’s just a prick.” She didn’t meet his eyes, her gaze cast down to observe the damage to her hand. Her knuckles were red and split from colliding with the man’s face and blood was beginning to creep up slowly.

Fíli took her hand in his and brushed his thumb lightly over her wounds before bringing his lips to kiss them gently.

The way she looked at him made his heart clench, almost like she was surprised at his affection towards her. He wanted to tell her he would do anything for her, would give her the world, and that it made him feel terrible that he allowed that guy to touch her like he did. But he couldn’t.

“I’m sorry, I should’ve stepped in sooner,” his voice full of regret at how he handled the situation.

“You have nothing to be sorry for, Fi, you’re my hero,” she said with a mischievous look in her eye, her fire back and immediately replacing his anger and regret with desire for her.

“I can usually handle my own, but I don’t mind you protecting me,” she said playfully.

Her eyes were filled with lust as she looked up at him through her eyelashes, and he was reminded once again of what he wanted to do to her.

Before he acted on pressing his lips against hers, Fíli called to the bartender for some ice for her hand, as well as a shot of whisky for them both.

They all managed to enjoy the rest of the night, no one harassing Prim other than with lustful glances from multiple men, but she didn’t seem to notice. She was having too much fun and a good buzz was keeping the pain in her hand at bay.

She stuck close to Fíli, often touching him playfully on his arm or chest, and even occasionally on his thigh. Her hand landed there now, causing him to stop talking mid-sentence to look at her delicate fingers resting on his jeans.

Fuck, she was going to be the death of him.

His jaw hurt from clenching his teeth so much, a habit to keep his increasing thirst for her at bay.

The bar announced the last call, and they all were quite drunk aside from Fíli. He typically managed to stay sober whenever they went out, wanting to ensure they all got home safely and didn’t have to pay and wait for cabs to take them all to different places.

With Kili and Tauriel dropped off at Tauriel’s place, Fíli was now on his way to take Prim to her own apartment. She was definitely drunk, but not sloppy, in more of her usual flirtatious state that had tried to lure him into her bed on more than one occasion. Tonight was no exception.

She laughed as she fumbled with her keys in the door, dropping them onto the mat. Fíli stooped to pick them up and when he straightened himself Prim was leaning playfully against her door frame.

“You want me and it’s killing you,” she boldly stated, revealing a part of him that he wasn’t ready to divulge to her yet.

He shook his head and chuckled while he unlocked the door, not wanting to have this conversation with her now.

She waltzed in ahead of him, her body language full of confidence from the drinks she had consumed.

“Do you want a nightcap?” Prim asked, trying her best to get him to stay.

“No, thanks. I’m going to head out so you can get some sleep.” He had to fight to get the words out, wanting so badly to stay.

Prim squinted her eyes at him, annoyed at being rejected.

“Are you ever going to give me what I want, Fíli?” she asked, her voice laced with bitterness.

He couldn’t help but grin, desperately wanting to tell her just how badly he wanted her. How he wanted the same things as her. How easy it would be for him to roughly pull her pants down and slide into her, fucking her until she screamed his name over and over.

Especially when she acted like this.

He took a step toward her so he was hovering slightly above her body, and he saw the fearlessness in her eyes change to a softness, like she would submit to him in a second if given the chance.

“The problem is, Prim,” he muttered, his eyes narrowing as he stared into her, “If I kiss you now, I won’t be able to stop.”

She faltered for only a moment before lifting her chin up in an act to reinstate her poise.

“Then don’t stop,” she challenged him.

It took every fibre in his being to pull away from her, not wanting to do anything while she was under the influence of alcohol.

“No,” he shook his head and laughed when she threw her head back and growled in frustration.

“Why?” she snapped, her distaste at being rejected clear.

He never wanted to make her feel this way. She had to know she was his greatest desire, his biggest temptation.

Fíli remained in place, not daring to go close to her again.

“Because I want you to be fully aware when I do the things that I have planned for you.”

He watched her shift, his words sinking in and probably helping to sober her up. It was a promise of things to come. A hint at his intentions to explore her body.

“Are you good?” Fíli asked in a normal tone, needing to change the subject and wanting to make sure she was okay before he left.

“I’ll be good when you’re putting your hands all over me,” she countered, her voice raspy and still persistent in trying to get her way with him.

He chuckled at her determination, making his way to the door despite her wishes. She was relentless.

“Goodnight, Prim,” he called over his shoulder, not able to look at her knowing if he did she would draw him back inside.

He sat in his truck for a moment before driving away, his thoughts solely on how much he wished to tell her he wanted to be with her.

Fíli toyed with the idea of establishing the relationship with Prim anyway, being selfish for once in his life and indulging in her for whatever amount of time he could before he left, but quickly decided against it.

He loved Prim. And he only wanted to love her in the way she deserved, and loving her and then leaving her was not it.

He smiled at how easy it was for her to tempt him into almost doing things that were so out of his character. But once he was back home he would give in to anything and everything she offered, because fuck did he want to.

Fíli knew without a doubt that they would end up together someday, so what was waiting a couple of more months in the grand scheme of things? As far as he was concerned they had all the time in the world.

But right now all Fíli could think about was how Prim was probably getting into bed and fantasizing about him while she extinguished her fire, her hands exploring her own body in search of a high that one day would include him. He palmed at the growing tension in his pants, knowing that he was going home to do exactly the same.

—————

#fili imagine #fili durin #fili the hobbit #fili #fili x oc #wild horses #series #slow burn #fili fanfic #fili smut #smut #oc #modern fili #modern au

37 notes · View notes

wrenhyperfixates · 4 years

Text

Of All the Places

Chapter 3

Pairing: Loki x reader Series Summary: Washing up in a small town in Oklahoma was definitely not part of Loki’s plan when he came to conquer Midgard. There is one good thing about it, though: No one recognizes him as the one who just wreaked havoc in New York. So, Loki plans to recover from the battle and move on with his life. The only problem? He’s not sure he can leave you. Chapter Summary: Loki battles with new thoughts and feelings as time goes on. While trying to convince himself to leave, he does his best to stop his growing connection to you and Matt. Chapter Warnings: some angst, but also fluff A/N: Third chapter done! For anyone wondering about James, there’s some more information on him in this chapter. And for anyone who saw that other post, this isn’t the super long chapter yet, sorry! Updates every Friday. As always, hope you enjoy :)

Tag List: @lucywrites02 @frostedgiantfavs @lunarmoon8 @twhiddlestonsstuff

✥ Start at Beginning ✥ | ← Previous Chapter | Next Chapter →

Disclaimer: Gif not mine

One week later, Loki was ready to leave. At least, that’s what he kept telling himself. He’d done his best to keep his distance, and yet he kept getting roped into conversations with you. Surely, though, that was wholly due to your persistence and in no part because he was drawn to you. And this family breakfast he was at yet again? Simply because he was addicted to pancakes. It had nothing to do with you, or your family, or your kind eyes. Okay, maybe it had the tiniest bit to do with your kind eyes. The way you looked at him was like nothing he’d ever known before. Frigga had always done it with a gentle love, but it was always reserved and hidden behind a queenly mask. With you, he could see every thought that passed through your mind reflected in your eyes. He shouldn’t have enjoyed being seen as a bird with a broken wing, but the care you gave him was something he quite liked.

“Hey,” you whispered, nudging him in the side as the rest of the table laughed at something. “You ok?”

“Yes. Just lost in thought I suppose.”

“I hate to interrupt,” Mama curtly interjected, “but whispering at the table ain’t polite.”

Ah, now if Loki was looking for a reason to leave, he could certainly find one in Mama. Though you’d been the one to start the hushed conversation, she was looking pointedly at Loki as if he was the instigator. Then again, she acted like every bad thing that happened since his arrival was his fault, even things he had no control over. Maybe spiting her by staying was reason enough for his delayed departure.

“Sorry,” you said before he could deliver a withering insult. “It’s my fault.”

Mama just made a little humming noise in reply that obviously showed she neither blamed you nor appreciated you taking the fall. In the time that Loki had been at your farm, she either avoided him like the plague or dealt thinly veiled insults his way. It was grating on his nerves, but there wasn’t much he could do bar revealing himself as an all-powerful god. Or leaving. That was always an option, he reminded himself.

“Son, I’ve been meaning to tell you,” Papa started, ignoring the tension like always, “I’ve misplaced that dang camera again. I’ll find it again soon though, don’t you worry.”

Little did he know, that camera’s disappearing act was entirely due to Loki’s magic. He’d hidden it around the house a number of times, never anywhere too outrageous as to avoid suspicion. Perhaps this time he’d just keep it in a dimensional pocket. Or let Taffy knock it over. Maybe if it was broken, you’d give up on the missing person ad idea. He’d worried that you would just use your phone cameras instead, but Papa was convinced that the quality would not be good enough.

“It is quite alright, sir. Your hospitality is more than enough. In fact, I really ought to be on my way soon,” he finished, throwing a glance at you to gauge your reaction, feeling an odd spark of happiness when you sank down in your seat.

“No!” Matt cried. “I don’t want you to.”

He crossed his arms as if that solved everything. It did, however, soften Loki a little. As it turns out, he was very fond of the little guy. On Asgard he’d never had much time to spend with children, but it seemed like he had inherited his mother’s natural ability to be good with them. Inherited is the wrong word, actually, he bitterly thought to himself. She’s not your real mother, after all.

“Matt, if he wants to leave, we really should let him,” Mama scolded, with an almost hopeful expression.

“Actually, I do not see why I shouldn’t stay a bit longer,” Loki said, flashing a false grin at the woman. “There really is no rush, I suppose.”

“Yeah,” she muttered. “No rush.”

“Well, Loki, since Matt has taken to you so well, maybe you’d like to watch him this afternoon?” Ana asked, pretending she didn’t hear Mama’s latest remark.

“It would be my pleasure,” he responded, surprised by the sincerity of that statement.

The family had still been avoiding giving Loki strenuous tasks, believing that he was just incredibly good at hiding his ailments. To keep up appearances, he pretended to have a particularly bad ache or pain every once in a while. Whenever he did, you’d instantly appear at his side and usher him to a seat. He’d try to get up, but you would tell him to stay put in your best stern tone, which he found rather adorable, though he’d never admit it. Then you’d fetch him a glass of water and watch over him for the next hour, or until you decided he was well enough to get up again.

Fifteen minutes later, it was time to start the day and everyone helped clear the table. Your family had made the process as efficient as possible. Mama and John would bring the dishes to Papa in the kitchen, who would hand them to you to put in the dishwasher after rinsing them off. Ana and Matt would put away all the leftovers and toppings from whatever had just been on the menu. Loki helped out where he could, but most days everyone besides Mama insisted he should take it easy, that he could help when he was fully healed. It was odd, he realized, that you were all planning on him being around that long. He felt that familiar, nagging, guilty feeling he’d been getting ever since he arrived. He was not a fan.

By the time Ana and John were ready to leave, Loki had already collected the eggs, the only daily chore he was given, and was ready to watch Matt. It was only as the boy was hugging his parents goodbye that Loki realized he wasn’t really sure what to do with the child for the next few hours. He was thankful that you seemed like you were planning on sticking around, too. It did make sense, he supposed, that they hadn’t completely trusted the boy with a near stranger.

“Aren’t you healthy, mommy?” Matt asked, clinging to Ana’s leg as she tried to get away. “Why do you have to go to the doctor?”

“Because you’re going to have a little brother or sister soon,” Ana explained in a sweet tone as she gently pried her son away. “Mommy and Daddy have to go to the doctor to make sure the baby is healthy.”

Loki’s eyebrows shot up in surprise. He had not yet realized that Ana was pregnant. She must not have been very far along because she wasn’t showing much yet. Though, now that he knew to look, the god could see a small baby bump. Based on Matt’s reaction, he was already aware that he’d have a sibling soon, but he still couldn’t quite grasp the concept of everything that went along with that.

“Will you be back soon?” Matt questioned, finally giving up his efforts to keep his parents where they were.

“In the blink of an eye, small fry,” John said, placing a kiss on his head.

That seemed to satisfy Matt, who wandered over to Loki and put his arms up, clearly looking to be picked up. He hesitated for a second before scooping up the boy. It wasn’t that he was afraid of dropping him, in fact he was sure he wouldn’t, but he’d never held a child before. Up until a few days ago, he wasn’t sure he even had the slightest inkling how to be nurturing. And then there was the whole problem of Matt becoming too attached. Not to mention the way you looked at him when he did held him. That soft gaze was a problem for sure.

“Alright,” you said once Ana and John were gone. “What do you want to do, buddy?”

“Hide and seek!” he shouted. Then he put his small, chubby hands on Loki’s cheeks and used his most serious tone. “You’ll never find me. I have the best hidey spots.”

Loki let out a nervous chuckle. Truth be told, he didn’t know how to play this game. When he and Thor were kids, they played run and attack, but he felt like this was probably not very comparable. Midgard was a very different place, after all.

“Just count to sixty and then come look for us. We’ll stay in the house,” you informed Loki as he passed Matt off to you. “Oh, and just shout out when you’re starting to look.”

“Thank you,” he replied, turning around to face the wall.

It was odd, he thought, that he seemed to have said thank you more in the past week than he had in the last century of his existence. He’d never meant to let himself get so bitter, but here he was stewing in that awful feeling. When the flash of anger receded, the God of Mischief realized he was face to face with a framed family tree. Highest up were pictures of couples he could only assume were your grandparents. Next line down was Mama, Papa, and their siblings. You and Ana were in the next row, and it struck him just how much you and your sister looked alike. Matt and John were there too, but the person that most captured his attention was your brother. The middle child, he guessed, since the picture was in between those of you and Ana. He gently ran his fingers over the looping gold cursive of James’s name. Loki loved a good mystery, but he needed clues and evidence to solve one. He knew next to nothing about the guy, other than that he’d been wearing his clothes for the past seven days.

“I am starting to look now,” Loki awkwardly shouted, feeling self-conscious about seeming like he was talking to no one.

He thought he heard a small snort coming from one of the upper levels at his gawky declaration, so he headed up first. It felt odd to go rifling through things, so he mainly tried just to peer under furniture, though he did open a closet once or twice. He huffed and considered if he should venture into any of your rooms. If you weren’t there, though, he’d feel like he was intruding on something private and sacred. Hesitating with a hand hovering over the doorknob to your room, he noticed the attic hatch out of the corner of his eye. Standing still, he could hear a very subtle shuffling noise coming from above him, so either you were there, or you’d better call pest control.

As soon as he climbed the ladder, Matt started giggling, but Loki pretended he couldn’t hear. He loudly walked in between the boxes littering the floor, every once in a while dramatically peering around an old piece of furniture. It only made the laughs louder.

“Now where could they be?” he sighed in mock exasperation. “Maybe, they’re here!”

Then he jumped around the couch you were hiding behind and started tickling Matt. The boy squealed in delight and squirmed away. When Loki looked at you, he saw something shocking on your face. Admiration. It was something he’d longed for from so many people in his life, and here you were giving it so freely to him. He moved his gaze elsewhere before his mind could wander any further.

“What’s all the ruckus up here?” Mama asked, her head appearing from the door. After spotting Loki, her eyes narrowed. “Oh. It’s you.”

“We were just playing hide and seek, Mama. Don’t worry,” you said.

“Indeed. I must say, it is much fun,” Loki added, though more to annoy her than ease her mind.

“I’m sure,” she replied before taking Matt by the hand. “Come on, let’s get you something to eat.”

You shot Loki an apologetic glance as you headed out after her. Once Matt’s snack was finished, Loki partook in some coloring. He was oddly pleased to know the little boy’s favorite color was green, and you seemed fairly partial to it, too. Ana and John returned roughly an hour later, and Loki finished the day by doing chores around the farm. Another thing he’d learned about himself was that he really didn’t mind doing manual labor. Growing up in the Royal Palace Valaskjalf, he never had to lift a finger to help cook or clean or do anything much besides training and lessons, really. Now he found himself almost eager to get into the kitchen for a cooking lesson with Papa or help out in the fields, the latter of which definitely had nothing to do with showing off for you.

He’d been on his way to the kitchen that evening sometime after dinner, his infamous sweet tooth bugging him again, when he heard Mama’s hushed voice.

“I’m telling you Earl, something about that boy just don’t sit right with me.”

“Come on, honey. He can’t even remember nothing. It’s our duty to help him out,” Loki heard Papa reply as he hid just outside the door.

“He may say he can’t remember, but I ain’t buying it. We should get him out soon as possible.”

It shouldn’t bother him as much as it did, but there was nothing to stop him from feeling the sting of those words. He really should just leave; it had been his plan after all. As if they had a will of their own, Loki’s feet carried him away from the conversation, out the door, and off the porch. He never should have taken advantage of your family’s generosity. He regretted thinking about you, though, because it made his steps falter a bit. And then there was sweet little Matt. It hadn’t really hit him until now, but Loki actually enjoyed himself today. He couldn’t recall the last day he could say that about.

“I hope you weren’t going to leave without saying goodbye.”

The trickster god whirled around at the sound of your voice. He’d been too caught up in his tumultuous thoughts to notice you leaning on one of the porch’s posts.

“Certainly not,” he lied. “I just needed some fresh air is all.”

“In that case, I know the perfect place. Come on.”

You took his hand and led him away from your land. He tried not to pay attention to the feeling of your hand in his. In fact, he tried to block it out altogether, but to no avail. Eventually, you reached a peaceful creek and picked up a rock to skip.

“If I was going to leave,” he began after a few minutes of contemplative silence, “I really would be fine. I appreciate all that you and your family have done, truly, but perhaps it’s best if I go.”

“Look, I know you’re pretty much all healed up, but you still don’t remember anything. I cannot in good conscience let you out into the world like that.”

“I suppose that is fair. Your mother certainly does not agree with your assessment, though.”

You sighed. “If Mama’s the reason you feel you should go, please just ignore her. She means well and all, but... Well, let’s just say she has her reasons for acting this way,”

Loki said nothing but raised his eyebrows at you. One part of him felt bad to press you for more information, even if it was done without words. The much larger part of himself, however, was entirely too curious to not know.

“Okay, so remember when I told you about my brother?”

Loki nodded eagerly, ready to get some answers about what exactly had happened there.

“Well, he was... He was killed in an accident with a drunk driver a couple years ago,” you recounted, tearing up a little bit. “Mama had trust issues even before, but they’re much worse now.”

“I am so sorry, darling,” Loki said, placing a comforting hand on your shoulder, but not daring to go any further than that.

He felt bad for your loss, but right now there were major alarm bells going off in his head. He’d just called you darling. It wan’t even something he’d thought about doing, it just happened. That, coupled with the fact he cared how you were feeling, had him panicking. His plan to leave after a week was already out the window, but leaving at all was becoming harder to fathom by the day.

“It’s ok,” you replied, wiping a few errant tears off your cheeks. “It was a little while ago. I’m alright now. Really.”

Neither of you said anything for a moment as he awkwardly pat your shoulder, not really certain of the correct way to comfort someone. He wanted to say something else, but he wasn’t sure what.

“I think I had a brother!” he shouted, giving in to his desire to confide in you, but his web of lies making it impossible to tell the whole truth.

“We have to put that ad in the paper then. So he can find you.”

Little did you know how awful that situation would be for everyone involved. Still, it meant a lot that you cared, especially when you’d just been saddened at the memory of your own brother.

“Maybe, but I do not seem to think we had a very good relationship.”

“All the more reason then. You never know how long you have, so you should try to make amends.”

“Perhaps.”

You lapsed into silence again, not really sure where to go from there. By now, the sun had been down for a while and a chill was settling in the air. Loki noticed you shiver and shrugged off his hoodie.

“Here,” he embarrassedly mumbled, holding it out to you.

“Oh, no. I couldn’t,” you refused. “You’ll be cold then.”

“Nonsense,” he insisted, “I will be perfectly fine.”

You reluctantly agreed and pulled it on. Though it had only been in his possession for a short time, his scent had already claimed the soft fabric. He acted like his attention was averted elsewhere, but was actually watching you out of the corner of his eye. You didn’t notice his gaze on you as you took a gentle sniff, trying to take as much of it in as possible. Sandalwood, leather and something otherworldly that you just couldn’t name, other than to call it heaven. He turned his head ever so slightly and you started sheepishly picking at your nails, hoping he hadn’t caught you. He expected to be appalled by the notion, but just found himself confused. Why would you enjoy something that was so distinctly him? Then he remembered you didn’t know the truth. That’s why he had to get out as soon as possible before he, or anyone else, got hurt.

“We should probably head back before it gets too late,” you said after a bit.

“I agree,” was all he replied.

As you walked away from the creek, he tried to leave the new feelings bubbling in him by the water, but they followed him all the way back to the house, and into his dreams that night.

109 notes · View notes

rhetoricalrogue · 4 years

Text

Wayhaven Week: Day 4

For the @otomefandomevents Wayhaven Week 2020.

Prompt: Tranquil Pairing: Adam du Mortain/Aubrey Miller Warnings: none Word Count: 2,786 Summary: Sometimes facing fears means tying on pointe shoes. Note: I’ve been listening to this playlist practically nonstop while writing this. I also have zero knowledge of dance, so this is mostly me doing the Internet Researcher mode and I apologize for any term I may have gotten wrong.

“This is so stupid,” Aubrey hissed, looking at her reflection in the full length mirror that spanned from one side of the wall to the other. Bright afternoon sun filtered in through the windows overhead and the playlist of piano music, while a bit tinny through her phone’s speaker, was a tune she was used to.

Aubrey knew for a fact that the majority of Unit Bravo was out of the Warehouse, Morgan being the only one who gave her a brief greeting as she came through. She hadn’t really looked at the bag Aubrey had slung over her shoulder aside from a short curious glance. Even so, it was enough to make it feel like Aubrey had stored a ton of bricks inside instead of the few lightweight items she knew were in there.

She was grateful it was only Morgan hanging around. While she loved the enthusiasm that Farah had for most things, especially bits of her personal past, Aubrey didn’t think she could handle a barrage of questions right now. She was also grateful that all Morgan did was give her a lazy head to toe look-see when she bumped into her again in the hallway leading from her room and the training room. The tiny half-smile at the short, fluttery skirt and pastel blue knit wrap top Aubrey wore over a grey tank top and black leggings and the brief have fun in there told Aubrey that she wouldn’t be disturbed as she did...whatever she thought she was going to do.

“Come on, Aubs,” she grumbled, sitting on the floor and digging through her bag. Without looking, she found the roll of tape and even though it had been years, taped up her toes as easily as if her last practice was the other day instead of over four years ago. After putting on a pair of lambswool toe pads, her pointe shoes went on just as easily and she exhaled, going into a series of warm up stretches she still did every morning to keep herself limber.

It wasn’t until she was back on her feet and facing the barre that she faltered again. Her eyes went to her phone and she had a brief thought to call up her former dance partner for a pep talk, but then talked herself out of it when she realized that Tony would still be in practice for the production he was gearing up to perform. “This doesn’t have to be scary.” Her hands trembled on the barre. She frowned and pulled her shoulders back, glaring at her reflection as she balled her hands into fists to stop them from shaking. “This shouldn’t be scary. No expectations, just do some basic steps. You can do a beginner class, you’ve taught students half your age how to do the same things before. Now stop overthinking and show me what you’ve got.”

Taking one last deep breath, Aubrey rolled up onto her toes, pushed over her toe box for a good stretch, rolled down through demi pointe, and laughed.

Adam walked through the Warehouse and tried not to feel aggravated at the sight of the detective’s car parked outside. Aggravated wasn’t quite the right word for how he was feeling, but he didn’t know how else to describe the way he felt out of sorts that she hadn’t called him to let him know that she was planning on dropping in on her day off. If she had, he would have…

I would have done what? he thought, crossing his arms over his chest and glaring as he sank into an easy chair in the living room. There had been something between them only a few days ago and he flexed his hand. If he focused enough on the memory of watching fireworks at the carnival, he could all but feel her hand still in his.

“That’s an awful grouchy look for someone who knows Aubs is home,” Morgan told him, perching her hip on the windowsill before she slid the window open enough to let a breeze in.

“She isn’t home,” he countered. “She’s somewhere here.”

Morgan scoffed and tapped out a cigarette. “Okay, sure.” Sparking up, she exhaled a plume of smoke. “To save you time, she’s in the training room. Said something about wanting to get some practice in.”

That got his attention. “By herself? You know she’s not the best at combat, you could have offered to help.”

She shrugged. “Didn’t think she needed my help.” Smoke seeped from her lips as she turned towards the open window. Nate would be pissed if she smoked up the living room too much. “Why don’t you go check in on her progress?”

Morgan didn’t have to look to know that Adam had already left. Shaking her head, she smirked and took another drag.

Adam hadn’t even gotten a few feet away from the training room’s doors when the sound of music hit him, the pop song familiar from Farah constantly blaring the tune from her bedroom at volumes loud enough to make the windows vibrate. Yet instead of being irritating, this version was both softened by being played on the piano and at a volume low enough that it was more than likely only barely audible to human hearing. His steps faltered as he listened to the rapid beating of Aubrey’s heart and the occasional hard slap of feet against the floor. Curiosity got the better of him and he quietly made his way to the door, opening it but not entering. Part of his reasoning was that he wanted to see how long it would take for the detective to be aware of his presence, but the other was because he wanted to observe her progress without her going tense or stopping only because she thought he was judging her progress and finding it lacking. She had the basics of combat covered due to her police training that he found satisfactory, but there was always a fear clawing at his gut that her training wouldn’t be enough to help her while facing more supernatural foes.

It was something that they were both going to have to work on, she to improve her skills and he to actually let her without worrying so much.

What he found Aubrey doing was definitely not practicing fighting stances. Adam stared transfixed as he watched her glide across the floor with a grace that he had only caught glimpses of in her everyday movements. Aubrey was definitely unaware of his presence as she rose fully onto her toes and performed a series of small steps before going into a pirouette and then making multiple turns around the room at a speed that should have made a human dizzy, but Adam only saw a look of utter peace and serenity on her face that made his chest constrict at the emotion she elicited from him.

She was beautiful. It was something he was well aware of, but seeing her dancing - something he knew she had loved and something that had pained her to leave behind - made it all the more obvious. Her arms moved to balance her as she rose again on one foot, her other leg lifting up and almost impossibly high near her head before she moved again, dropping her leg to extend it in front of her and folding herself over it in one fluid motion. She stayed like that for a moment and Adam was sure she would move into another dance position, but she suddenly folded in on herself and sat on the floor, her arms coming up to circle her knees as she let out a loud sob.

He was at her side before he even registered moving. “Are you hurt?” he asked, his eyes zeroing in on her left foot, hands going to her shoulders in concern. The ribbons of her shoes hid most of the silvery pale surgical scars he’d only glimpsed the few times he’d seen her barefoot, but nothing looked amiss.

Aubrey jumped, jerking up to look at him. “Adam?”

“You’re crying.” He couldn’t help but reach out and brush a tear away from her cheek, his breath catching when she tipped her head towards his hand.

“Oh.” Her hands went up to wipe at her face and she gave a little laugh. “I’m not hurt, at least I don’t think so.” He watched her flex her foot before she nodded in affirmation that everything was fine.

His brow furrowed in confusion. “Then why are you crying?”

She blushed and leaned back on her hands. “You know that before I joined the police force that I was a dancer. Becoming a ballerina was the only thing I’ve ever wanted to be since I was six. I spent twenty years dancing and after hurting myself and leaving, everything has felt...off, like something was missing in my life. The instructor at the dance studio down the road’s given me an open invitation to perform at any of her programs, but I keep telling her that I’m retired. I haven’t danced since, partly because I was afraid of hurting my foot again, but mostly because I was afraid.”

He sat down next to her. “Afraid of what?”

She bit her lip. “That I wouldn’t be able to do steps I used to be able to practically do in my sleep. That no matter how much warming up I’d done that I wouldn’t be able to dance without pain. That the part of myself I had put so much of my effort into had truly died and the hole in my chest I’ve felt ever since would never go away.” She laughed again, a trait that Adam had since realized was a nervous tell. “I told you I needed a lesson in self-assuredness.”

He let out a brief huff of laughter before sobering. “And now? Did you find the answers to your fears?”

“I did. I was so used to dancing at a certain pace and quantity that when the doctors told me that I’d hurt myself even more permanently if I kept it up, so my answer was to stop completely.” She tightened her arms around her knees. “My all or nothing thinking did more damage than risking the occasional recital or program here in Wayhaven making me miss my former schedule ever did.”

Anxiety suddenly latched its teeth into his chest. “Does this space displease you then?”

She jerked upright. “Displease me? Adam, this…” she glanced around at what she could only describe as a miniature dance studio. Whoever had built it could have shuffled her to a corner of the training room, but she had been given an equal amount of space as any of the other equipment that dotted the area. “This is wonderful.”

He let out the breath he had been holding. “Good. When your mother told us about your previous profession, I had hoped to give the architects enough direction to…” He stopped himself, heat dotting his face when he realized what he had said.

“You did this? For me?”

He frowned and tried to brush off the more serious implications his statement had brought up. “Even if you hadn’t utilized the space, an area for flexibility and agility practice would have…” Whatever he was going to say next was knocked away when Aubrey launched herself at him, her arms wrapping around his shoulders.

“Thank you,” she breathed, her cheek settling in the curve of his neck. She leaned back enough to look him in the eye. “I’ve felt so lost for so long, but this...this was me coming home.”

Adam reached up and brushed his fingers over her chin. “You’re crying again.”

“Happy tears, I promise.”

He should have moved away, but it felt right to bring his arms around her and hold her close, sighing as she hugged him again. “Happy or not, I don’t like being the cause of your tears. I shall try to not do anything to make you cry.”

She laughed, her breath warm against his throat. “Good luck. You should know by now that I tear up at the drop of a hat.” She paused. “You thinking of me as an equal part of Unit Bravo even back then really means a lot to me. I mean it, Adam.”

He rested his chin on the crown of her head and gave in to a little self-indulgence by pulling her in closer. “You’re welcome, Aubrey.” Reluctantly, he pulled away and got up. “Though I should probably apologize: Farah’s going to insist you teach her everything you know.”

Aubrey grinned and held her hands up so Adam could pull her to her feet. “I’m ready. I’ll have her in a leotard before she knows it.”

“I don’t doubt it.”

Her grin grew. “And maybe I just might have you doing some lifts before you know it too.”

He raised an eyebrow. “We’ll see about that.”

There was a beat where they were silent. Aubrey broke it by rocking back on her heels. “You know, this was just supposed to be a test to see if I could still dance, but I think I’m going to keep it up. Would you mind if I came by more often to practice?”

Adam tilted his head. “Why would I mind? Like you said, this is your home.” He gave her a fond smile. “Besides, it wouldn’t be unpleasant to see you here more often. Your natural agility and speed could come in handy to offset your combat prowess.”

She swallowed the lump in her throat at the way he looked at her, his eyes soft in the afternoon light. “Maybe once I knock all the rust off, I can give a mini-recital,” she joked.

“I’d like that.” Adam cleared his throat. “We’d like that. But in order for you to do so, you need time to practice. I’ll leave you to it.”

Aubrey watched as he left the training room and closed the door behind him. She couldn’t stop from rushing over to where her phone was to scroll through some more music. Where she had sort of butchered the flow of an actual class before to test if she could simply do the moves again, now she centered herself and began to practice in earnest. The years away had left her with muscles that still remembered how to move in the correct steps, even if being out of practice meant it took a little more effort to get into them. Even so, every plie and tendu made something dormant inside her unfurl and wake up, as if someone had opened a window to let a fresh breeze in.

Just outside the training room, Adam leaned against the wall and listened for a brief moment before heading down the hallway. “You knew she wasn’t training,” he said as he found Morgan in the kitchen.

“Never said she was,” she replied, not looking up from the apple she was slicing. “Besides, for her, I think that still counts as training. She needed that, you know.”

“So long as she doesn’t injure herself again.”

The scoff and rolled eyes were something Adam had grown used to. “She’s a grown woman, I think she knows what her body’s limits without you hovering.” She raised an eyebrow. “Though maybe she’d want you to hover, if you know what I mean.”

He scowled. “What are you doing?”

She gave him as innocent of a look as Morgan was capable of doing. “Nothing, Adam. Just making a snack.”

He looked down at the plate of sliced apples and cheese. “You hate cheese.”

“Didn’t say it was for me. Don’t know what sort of calories she’s burning, but…” she shrugged. “She’ll be hungry when she finishes in there.”

He dropped his defensive posture. “So you can be nice,” he teased.

“Fuck off, Adam,” she sneered, throwing the plate into the fridge. “She’s my…” She trailed off and shrugged.

“You can call her your friend. It won’t hurt.”

She narrowed her eyes. “Ha ha. That’s real rich, coming from you. But yeah. You’re supposed to do nice things for friends.”

Adam watched as she sauntered off. Leaning against the kitchen island, he grabbed an apple from the bowl Nate had put out earlier. Taking a bite, he frowned as he went over both the moment that he had with Aubrey and the conversation he just had with Morgan.

Maybe she’s right, he thought, pushing away from the island. He opened the fridge to make sure that there was a bottle of water set next to Morgan’s snack offering for Aubrey to find. Maybe it wouldn’t hurt to admit certain things.

#wayhaven week 2020 #the wayhaven chronicles #twc detective #f!detective/adam du mortain #my writing #aubrey miller/adam du mortain #aubrey miller #adam du mortain

13 notes · View notes

allthingsfangirl101 · 4 years

Text

RA&L Chapter 7: His First Session

Masterlist

Dylan's POV

After Della's confession, I was hesitant to leave her. But after she told me about the accident, Evan came to her room and kicked me out.

That guy really doesn't like me.

As I walked back to my room, I thought more about Della's accident. I couldn't shake the feeling that I knew that accident. Maybe I read about it after it happened. Or maybe. . .

"No," I interrupted myself, quickly shaking that thought from my mind. "There is no way I was involved in Della's accident. We weren't even in the same city. . . Right?"

* * * * *

After my useless group session where I didn't share anything, I was walking around the courtyard mindlessly. I couldn't help the smile that formed as I caught a glimpse of Della walking with headphones on.

I smirked as I quickly walked up behind her. I had to hold back a laugh when Della started slightly dancing to her music. With an idea in mind, I reached forward and grabbed her hand, spinning her around.

She let out a surprised gasp as I pulled her into my chest. I reached up and pulled her headphones off her head, resting them around her neck. I smirked when an idea popped into my head as her music played loud enough through her headphones for both of us to hear.

"Dylan," she whispered, glancing around the courtyard. "What are you doing?"

"What?" I asked innocently. "Is it against the rules to have fun? Or dance around?"

With that, I placed my other hand on her back and started dancing her around the grass to the music. I smiled as she laughed. We danced around, not caring whether or not people were watching.

They definitely were, but we didn't care. I usually hated embarrassing myself like this, but the smile on Della's face made up for it.

I suddenly stopped dancing, both of us breathing hard, when I realized something; I didn't care about embarrassing myself because Della was having fun.

I let her go and took a step back, that thought bouncing around my head.

"You okay?" Della asked, her breathing back to normal.

"Umm, yeah," I stuttered, well aware that I sounded like an idiot. "I just. . . I remembered I was on my way to a meeting with the center therapist."

Of all excuses I could've used, I said I was going to the shrink. Really?

"Sorry, Della." I sighed, running my hands through my hair.

"It's okay," she shrugged, a small smile on her lips. "Dr. Hailey hates it when we're late."

"We? You. . . You go to the center therapist?"

"Yeah," she said slowly, her cheeks turning pink. "Evan thought it would be helpful."

"I'm sure he did," I mumbled.

"What's that supposed to mean?"

My eyes widened when I realized she had heard me. "Nothing," I stuttered. "It's just. . . He seems. . ."

"Seems what, Dylan?"

Don't do it. Every time you open your mouth and speak your mind, you just end up hurting someone.

"It seems like he cares a lot about you. . .specifically."

"And that's a bad thing?" She scoffed even though her eyes said something else.

"No!" I said quickly. "That's not what I meant, Della. I just meant that. . ."

"Look," she sighed, cutting me off. "I get that you and Evan have this weird feud thing going on. I don't understand why, but I do understand that you don't like each other. All I ask is that you guys don't try to involve me in this childish war."

My heart sank as she turned on her heel, put her headphones back on, and walked to her room.

"Nice going, moron," I mumbled to myself as I ran my hands through my hair. I sighed and started walking down the hallway before I could talk myself out of it.

I took a shaky breath as I knocked on her office. "Yes?" I heard Dr. Hailey call out.

I opened the door and poked my head in. "Dr. Hailey? Is it okay if I come in and talk to you?"

"Of course," she smiled as she gestured for me to come in. I took another shaky breath before walking in and sitting down.

"What can I help you with, Dylan? I'll be honest, I'm surprised you decided to finally meet with me."

"I am too," I laughed, running my hands through my hair. I got nervous when I saw her write something down. I quickly put my hands in my lap, fully aware that she was literally watching my every move.

"It's okay," she laughed. "You can relax. Just ignore the fact that I'm writing. It's more for me than it is for you."

I nodded as I felt myself relax. I waited for her to say something, but soon realized she was probably waiting for me to do the same thing.

"I umm," I cleared my throat, "I don't really know why I finally decided to come."

"That's okay," Dr. Hailey shrugged. "Let's start with today. What happened today specifically that made you decide to come to your session?"

"Well," I hesitated. "I was talking to. . .another patient here and things got weird, so I made up an excuse to leave. You were the excuse."

"Okay," Dr. Hailey smiled with a small laugh. "Who was this patient?"

"I don't know her last name," I said slowly, trying to stall. "Or her first name, really. All I know is that she goes by Della."

It was hard to ignore the smile that formed on her lips when I mentioned Della. "That's Adeline Palmer," she giggled. "I know Della. She's a sweet girl. How do you know her?"

"We kind of seem to keep running into each other around here," I cleared my throat, suddenly embarrassed.

"That tends to happen around here. A lot," she added, sending me a knowing look.

"Really?" I challenged. "And how far does it usually go?"

"As far as the two want it to go." Her knowing look never left her face. "So, you said that things got weird. What did you mean by that?"

"I was walking out of group counseling and I saw her. She was nodding along to her music. I don't know why, but I walked up to her, spun her around and started dancing with her."

"In the middle of the courtyard?" She asked. She smiled when I nodded. "Do you usually do things like that? In front of people?"

"No," I said, probably a little too quickly. "I usually hate embarrassing myself like that in front of people. Sober, at least."

"Then why did you do it today?" She asked, a weird tone in her voice.

"I don't know," I stuttered. She waited for me to continue. When I didn't, she put her pen down and looked at me.

"Could it be because of Della?" I shrugged even though I knew that she was exactly why. "How much do you know about why she is here, Dylan?"

"Well," I cleared my throat, feeling a little uncomfortable talking about her like this.

"Dylan," Dr. Hailey said gently. "It's okay. I know all about Adeline. I just want to know what you know."

"She was in a car accident a little over a year ago. Her legs were crushed and the seatbelt cut into her throat. She went to therapy for her legs, but they didn't do much for her throat. That's why she's here. Evan is helping her with speech therapy. It must be working because she's able to speak a little every day. What?" I asked when I saw the look on her face.

"Sorry," she laughed. "I just wasn't aware of that last part. That's wonderful for her."

"Yeah," I smiled. Suddenly the smile fell from my lips when I realized the news she got the other day. "But Evan told her she'd never be able to sing again. I ran into her after he told her and she was so. . . Broken. I didn't know what else to do so I just held her as she cried. We talked a little bit about it. And it just. . . She said that it wasn't worth it."

"What wasn't worth it?"

"Surviving," I sighed, remembering the look on her face. "She said it was easier not to survive than it was to struggle to. She looked so. . . Defeated."

Dr. Hailey was quiet for a second, staring weirdly intently at her notes. She looked up from her notebook and studied me. "And she said this to you?"

"Yes."

"Before or after you danced in the courtyard together?"

"Before." I watched as she smiled. "What?"

"Well, it looks like you were willing to embarrass yourself to help cheer Della up."

"I know that," I stuttered. "But, what I don't know is why I left so quickly."

"You probably left after realizing that you embarrassed yourself for her. Were you embarrassed?"

"No," I said, quickly. "That's what's weird. I wasn't embarrassed at all. But if I wasn't embarrassed, why did I turn against her?"

"Turn against her?" She repeated, tilting her head slightly.

"Well, not really. I just. . . I said something stupid, knowing it would get her upset. I mentioned her relationship with Evan. He and I seem to continually clash and rub each other the wrong way. I brought him up because I knew it would get her angry with me."

"You purposely got her angry with you? After you had some fun and willingly embarrassed yourself for her?"

"I guess," I stuttered. "But, why would I do that?"

"Maybe," she said gently. "Could it be because you saw that you were actually bonding with Della?"

I opened and closed my mouth, not having a response. My eyes widened when I realized she was right. "Dylan," she said, getting my attention. "It's normal to push someone away right as you are getting close to them. You put up walls over the years, understandable in your profession, and Della has started to make you tare them down. You realized that, so you quickly built them back up and pushed her away."

I sighed, slumping further into the seat. "This is why I don't like shrinks," I mumbled.

"I know," Dr. Hailey laughed. I sent her an apologetic look that just made her shrug. "Again, it's normal."

"I don't mean to push her away. . . I mean, I don't want to push her away. So, why did I?"

"I'm sorry, Dylan, but only you can answer that. Instead, try this; open up to her. Let her in just like she let you in. I've known and worked with Della since she came here. It took her a long time to tell me as much as she has. It's time for you to return the gesture. Tell her why you're here. No matter how embarrassing the situation was, tell her everything."

I nodded, standing up. "Thank you, Dr. Hailey."

She smiled as she stood up. "You're welcome back anytime. But maybe next time try sticking to your scheduled time."

"Sorry," I stuttered, making her laugh.

"It's okay. I'm here when you need me."

I was almost out the door when she called me back. "Dylan, Della doesn't open up to a lot of people. For a long time, it was just Evan and I. But now, she decided to trust you enough to add you to the list. Don't show her it was a mistake. Return the gesture."

#dylan o'brien #dylan o'brien imagine #dylan o'brien fanfic #tfios #rehab love story #RAL

9 notes · View notes

thebeethathums · 5 years

Text

Home - 9

Pairing: John Watson x HolmesTwin!Reader

Warnings: Suicidal thoughts mentioned very vaguely. The reader in this fic is a TWIN to Sherlock Holmes and as such shares some physical features to him. Please read at your own discretion with this in mind.

A/N: Bolded text indicates John’s Blog Posts

You got up early, or rather just got ready early; you’d become a bit of an insomniac, so there was not really any getting up involved. It had been four days since you’d saved John and you had talked to him briefly the day before so he would quit worrying. Such a worrier that man… you could practically feel him doing so through the walls and door.

So you’d put on your best face for him until you were sure he was satisfied and then locked yourself back in Sherlock’s room to think. He’d said maybe you should visit Sherlock’s grave. At first, you’d hated the idea but anything was better than just staring at the ceiling, so here you were- fully dressed yet entirely disheveled, walking up a grassy hill as the sun barely peeked over the horizon. You yawned as you came to your destination, plopping down in front of the stone marker to trace the letters of his name with shaky fingers.

Sherlock froze when he saw you there, quietly crying in front of his empty grave, before ducking behind a nearby tree. He was supposed to meet Mycroft here for his weekly update in a few hours but he’d come early because he was bored and tired of being cooped up. The last person he’d ever expected to see was you. You weren’t even supposed to be in London… when had you gotten back? And why?

He shifted closer so he could get a better look at you, careful to remain hidden even though every fiber of his being told him to go to you. He needed to keep you safe- especially if you were back in London for good. He frowned at your appearance. You looked as much of a mess as you felt, with your short hair sticking out in all directions and your clothes wrinkled and slightly off-kilter, and your face was sullen and haggard from lack of sleep. He wondered how long it had been since you’d slept… how long had you been home to look the way you did.

Wiping the tears from your eyes as you breathed deeply to keep more from escaping, you let out a heavy huff, “John said I should come here. I told him it was an idiotic idea- why should I talk to a slab of stone and a pile of worm food… yet here I am. Like an idiot.”

You rubbed at your temple and sighed, “He’s nice- your friend- and he misses you… I suppose my presence doesn’t really help with that does it? But I like him and he was good for you… perhaps he’ll be good for me too. We are- ...were similar after all.”

It was quiet for a moment and your voice switched to a pained whisper, “I miss you, Sherly. I keep thinking I see you or hear you- I’ve never hated my mind more.”

Sherlock’s chest wrenched and he sank down to sit with his back against the tree as you shifted to sit against his grave marker, leaning your head back on it, “Do you remember our first day of school? The teacher had to phone home because we wouldn’t let go of each other’s hands and the other children thought we were strange... but neither of us cared because we had each other… I suppose we were freaks from the beginning.”

It was true. You’d always been considered freaks but, no matter how much the comments that came later hurt or how many people shunned the two of you, at the end of the day it didn’t matter- he had you and you had him. Who needed friends when you had each other?

He stifled a small chuckle at the memory and you hummed with amusement, “Or what about the time we were playing pirates and you refused to let me be captain? I was so cross with you that I built a working cannon and shot a giant hole through our ship as well as the shed behind it. Mother was so miffed… I can still see her face.”

You laughed weakly, a tear trickling down your face, “You, on the other hand, were beyond proud and named me Pirate Queen- far better than captain you claimed- and we fixed our ship to include the cannon.”

Sherlock smirked and ruffled a hand through his hair, remembering the incident clearly. You had made a fantastic Pirate Queen and after the two of you had fixed the ship you’d worked together to steal Mycroft’s briefcase, forcing him to fence with you to get it back. It was a good memory. He was brought back to the present when you let out the heaviest sigh he’d ever heard from you and he could feel your sadness. He’d always denied that you two had a ‘twin connection,’ as to him that was absurd hogwash, but now he was beginning to think that maybe you did. It would explain the pains in his chest he’d been feeling lately.

Remembering where you were and exactly what you were doing, you rolled your eyes, “This is bloody pointless. You can’t hear me and if you can, then you're probably teasing me for behaving like a drivel-minded idiot. Still…”

Resting your chin on your knees, you took a deep breath, “If you can- I’m sorry. All those things I said before I left were such lies… terrible, awful lies… I need you. I will always need you. I-I shouldn’t have gone…”

Your voice turned angry as you practically yelled up to the sky, “But you were supposed to be here when I got back, you cock. Sure, I left, but it was hardly permanent- there was not a chance in hell I wasn’t coming home. So why did you have to go and leave me forever? I thought we agreed that one-upping each other was a pointless waste of time and energy.”

He clenched his fists in frustration, wanting to tell you everything so badly, and then tilted his head back against the tree when you started to cry, “I don’t know how much more of this I can endure, Sherlock. I hate being alone. It’s awful and horrid and… exhausting. I just want to sleep forever, but for some reason, I can’t sleep at all. I wish I’d died in that bloody desert… a whole lot of nothing and unending darkness has to be better than this. At least maybe then I could get some peace.”

There was a long period of silence after that and he let everything that you’d said sink in- you’d rather be dead than live without him… it made his chest hurt unbearably because he felt the same way. He would have to make sure you didn’t do something drastic before it was safe for him to come back. He got up, thinking you’d gone, but instead found that you’d fallen asleep curled up against his tombstone, your tear-stained cheek resting against your knee. He frowned deeply and texted Mycroft that he needed to get there as soon as humanly possible before sitting down on the grass next to you, certain that as long as he didn’t touch you, you’d stay asleep.

Mycroft uttered a soft curse under his breath when he arrived and saw the two of you sitting there and Sherlock was up in a flash, dragging his brother roughly out of earshot before seething, “Why did you not tell me she had returned?”

“You did not need to know.”

“Didn’t need to know? She’s miserable. I never intended for her to be a part of this.”

“All the more reason for me to keep it from you. There are those who would use her against you. You can’t put her in danger, Sherlock.”

Your twin fell quiet, knowing that Mycroft was right, and then huffed, “Take her home. She can’t sleep here… and tell John to keep a close eye. Her thoughts are muddled.”

Mycroft paled slightly, aware of the implications in his brother’s words, and then nodded stiffly, “I will inform him.”

Fully intending to chew out his brother later, Sherlock strode away before he could do something stupid or his emotions got the better of him and Mycroft stepped over to you, gently running his fingers through the top of your hair as he hummed, “(F/n), dear… This a poor choice of a place to sleep.”

You stirred to blink up at him sleepily, “HmmMy? What are you…”

You fell silent as you realized where you were and he sighed, “Come on. I’ll take you home before John begins to worry.”

He rolled his eyes when you reached your arms up lazily, knowing exactly what you wanted, and bent to pull you to his chest. You wound your arms around your brother’s neck with a small yawn and despite the fact he was slightly annoyed and a little strained over having to carry you, he still gave a small fond smile- the kind he reserved for you and only you. He started on his way back to the car, worrying a little when he realized you were lighter than he’d expected, and you nuzzled into his shoulder, “I missed you, Mymy.”

“And I you, (F/n),” he sighed, slipping into the car with you still in his arms since he knew you weren’t about to let go.

You yawned again and fiddled with his tie before looking up at him, the childlike expression on your face reminding him of when you were younger and you’d crawl into his lap with a book you wanted him to read or just to give him a hug. You’d always been so annoyingly affectionate but he could never bring himself to stop you or push you away. You turned your attention back to his tie and mumbled, “If you aren’t too busy… would you come call on me more often?”

The corner of his lips turned up in a sad smile as he leaned in to press a kiss to your forehead, “Of course, my dear. Of course.”

An Unexpected Arrival

Will my life ever be normal? Then again… Do I even want it to be normal? The mysterious Mycroft Holmes showed up this morning just as I was frying an egg for breakfast, his arm wrapped around a very exhausted looking (F/n). I didn’t even realize she’d gone out but apparently, he’d found her at Sherlock’s grave- asleep against the marker. I knew she hadn’t been sleeping but I didn’t think it was this bad. She’s asleep on the couch now but it took a while for Mycroft to get her to stop clinging to him in her sleep so he could leave. I’ve never seen him like that. It was like he softened a little despite being totally annoyed. He’s worried about her, as am I after he told me to keep a close eye out for any signs she’s thinking about hurting herself. That was a tad sobering. Even sad, I’ve never seen her as anything but strong and independent but looking at her now, curled up on the couch completely exhausted and so upset, she seems terribly fragile and small. Entirely unlike the woman who saved my life a few days ago.

After her brother left, I got to thinking… maybe this was meant to be. The universe dumped her in my lap because we both needed each other- I needed some of him back in my life and she… she needs me to keep her from being alone in the world. I have try harder to do that and as such, I have removed the door from her room. She’s going to hate it, I know, but if she can’t just revert to shutting herself away, maybe we can get somewhere. If I stop updating send someone to check she hasn’t torn me to bits…

122 notes · View notes

v-thinks-on · 4 years

Text

Into the Time Slip: A Second Chance

Day 13 (Part 1) of Holmes for the Holidays

Previous | Next

Today’s Prompt: Sherlock Holmes stuck in a time loop (from hold.my.coat)

Note: I liked this prompt so much, I ended up writing two responses. This first one doesn’t fit the prompt quite as well, but I’ve been rereading the Sherlock Holmes stories and recently read Sign of the Four, and I have some thoughts on it.

“The division seems rather unfair,” Watson remarked. “You have done all the work in this business. I get a wife out of it, Jones gets the credit, pray what remains for you?”

“For me,” said Sherlock Holmes, “there still remains the cocaine-bottle.” And he stretched his hand up for it.

Holmes took his bottle from the corner of the mantel-piece and his hypodermic syringe from its neat morocco case. With his long, white, nervous fingers he adjusted the delicate needle, and rolled back his left shirt-cuff. For some little time his eyes rested thoughtfully upon the sinewy forearm and wrist all dotted and scarred with innumerable puncture-marks. Finally he thrust the sharp point home, pressed down the tiny piston, and sank back into the velvet-lined arm-chair with a long sigh of satisfaction.

“Which is it today?” Watson asked, startling Holmes’s attention away from the old black-letter volume which he had opened as the drug surged through his system. “Morphine or cocaine?”

“Cocaine,” Holmes repeated himself with some impatience.

Watson hesitated before abruptly protesting, “Surely the game is hardly worth the candle. Why should you, for a mere passing pleasure, risk the loss of those great powers with which you have been endowed?”

“You have done everything in your power to extricate yourself from the matter. I would say it is no longer in your hands.”

“No longer in my hands?” Watson demanded. “Whatever gave you that impression?”

Holmes waved it off, though he was truly touched by Watson’s fervor. “You say that now, but a married man has other more pressing duties than to an old friend.”

“My dear Holmes,” Watson exclaimed, “I fear the drug has addled your brain. What talk has there been of marriage?”

“It is a cruel trick you are playing, Watson, for I know you are a man of your word and would not have lied about your engagement to the lovely Miss Morstan.”

“Who?” Watson asked, now on his feet to examine Holmes properly. His concern could not have been mistaken for anything but genuine.

“I assure you, the lady is not my invention,” Holmes said, smiling at the absurdity of it all. A thousand possibilities crossed his mind, each more impossible than the last.

Watson’s concern showed no signs of abating.

“At ease, Doctor,” Holmes said with a dismissive wave.

At last, Watson settled back in his chair, though his eyes did not leave Holmes. Holmes, for his part, found he didn’t mind the attention, perplexing as it was.

He was just turning the peculiar puzzle over in his head when his thoughts were interrupted. “Aha! If I am not mistaken, that is the lady herself ascending upon the stair!”

Sure enough, Mrs. Hudson stepped inside, bearing the card of Miss Mary Morstan.

“Come to see Dr. Watson, no doubt,” Holmes said with a sideways glance at the doctor, though he could not deny that she had gone about visiting her intended in a strangely formal way.

“I have come to you, Mr. Holmes,” she said, “because you once enabled my employer, Mrs. Cecil Forrester, to unravel a little domestic complication. She was much impressed by your kindness and skill.”

It was impossible, and yet, there was the very evidence before him. He could only confirm, “You come on account of a letter, received this morning, inviting you to meet an unknown friend at the Lyceum this evening at seven o’clock?”

She gasped. “How? How could you know?”

“Watson, I fear I have been most unjust to you,” Holmes murmured. “Could you do me the favor of reading the date off of today’s paper?”

He did so and it confirmed Holmes’s most irrational suspicion and then some.

“I fear I am a day off,” Holmes said, again perhaps more to himself than either person in the room. He could feel Watson watching him with the fear of seeing someone go mad.

“I’m sorry,” Miss Morstan said, “Have I arrived at a bad time?”

Before Watson could confirm it, Holmes silenced him with a wave and turned to the lady. “My apologies for my irregular behavior. You could not have come at a better time; your arrival has resolved a small dispute between my friend and I, and I am afraid I was in the wrong, rather more than I expected. I would not miss your case for the world, but I request that you entrust it fully in my hands.”

“What do you propose?” the lady asked with the guarded air of someone who does not know what is going on, but does not trust it.

“By a rather odd coincidence, I have come by some knowledge of the case which you present and I have a good reason to believe that I know the identity of the man who sent you that mysterious letter, as well as the pearls that preceded it.”

“How on Earth?”

He waved off the question. “Unfortunately, that I am unable to say. However, I find myself in an ideal position for providing the advice you seek. Allow me to contact your mysterious correspondent. I believe he will need to postpone your meeting, but that it would be to your great advantage to see him when he is available, and my friend and I would be happy to accompany you.”

She hesitated, but at last she said, “Very well, if you know of the matter I suppose it is best to leave it in your hands.”

“Excellent. I expect you will hear from your correspondent tomorrow if not today.”

After the lady had taken her leave, Watson turned to Holmes and asked, “Are you certain you are quite alright?”

“In truth, Watson, I am half convinced I must be dreaming. However, that is a poor presumption to act upon, and so far everything seems to line up precisely.” He gestured for Watson to hold his peace. “There is much that still needs to be done, and if I am correct, a man’s life hangs in the balance, as well as our fair visitor’s fortune. When it is done, then I will have a clean breast of it and you can send me off to the madhouse if you believe it is warranted-”

“My dear Holmes!” Watson exclaimed.

Holmes forged on with a shake of his head, “Until then, I ask that you trust in my decisions and make no hasty decisions, especially not on the matter of marriage.”

“Certainly.”

“Now, we must make for Pondicherry Lodge with due haste.”

Only after it was all done; Jonathan Small apprehended for the attempted burglary of Mr. Bartholomew Sholto, the story of the Sign of Four revealed, and the Agra treasure divided between the Sholtos and the worthy lady, did Holmes face Watson by the fireside of their Baker Street flat.

“I owe you an apology, my dear Watson,” Holmes said softly, as though he was not quite sure he wanted the words to be heard. “You have been most unfairly treated.”

Watson appeared startled. “I have been concerned,” he admitted, “But not mistreated.”

“For some time now, I fear I have been rather trying on your patience. I saw it, but I did not observe, did not heed your distress. I did not realize how serious it was until” - Holmes hesitated - “You may think me quite mad.”

“I would hope you would reconsider your use of the needle after whatever has occurred, but I fear that somehow you have been right in nearly every particular. Did you have some warning?”

“In a sense,” Holmes said with a wry smile. “When we spoke the other morning, when I was so disoriented as to think you had left me for a wife, I truly recalled that you had. I recall it still. It seems as though it must have been a few days ago, though the date was the same. We were disputing over some ill chosen words of mine when Miss Morstan arrived and presented her case. We accompanied her to the Lyceum Theater at 7 o’clock, and were brought to the home of Mr. Thaddeus Sholto who told us the incredible tale of which you are now aware. With him, we went to Pondicherry lodge, only to find his brother dead, murdered by Mr. Small’s peculiar friend. As I investigated the murder of Mr. Sholto, it appears you fell in love with Miss Morstan and her with you. Mr. Small dumped the treasure into the Thames, leaving you free to ask the lady for her hand, and she accepted. And so, I was left to my cocaine-bottle until it appears it had not yet occurred.”

“Why, it must have been a dream!” Watson exclaimed. “And yet, you were not wrong in a single particular. I confess I do find Miss Morstan attractive, though I have been rather preoccupied with your condition.”

“My apologies for losing you a bride - for it can only be on account of my altered behavior that you are not now engaged.”

Watson waved it off. “She is much better off with her treasure than an old army doctor.”

“And yet, I find that I do not envy her nearly as much now that treasure is all she has. I am certain she make a most eligible bride,” Holmes amended with a wave, “but I assure you, Watson, you would have been most dearly missed.”

“My blushes, Holmes!”

“Having deprived you of a wife, it is only fair that I do what I can to make it up to you. You have never yet recognized my merits as a housekeeper.”

#v writes #Sherlock Holmes #H/W #Holmes for the Holidays

1 note · View note

xxfanfiction-emo-trinityxx · 5 years

Text

Leagues - Mikey Way x Reader

Request: I know you'll be away from doing asks for a while and you have a long list of requests, but I would love a story with like a rich girl and someone (Gerard, Mikey, Pete, Brendon, who ever you feel like writing, idc) has a crush on her but thinks she'd never like him back, but she does k thanks xoxo

Reader: female

Word count: 1 887

Mikey could not help but stare at her as she walked past him in the hallway. She was looking as cute as ever as she strode past the other students. It seemed like she was untouchable, no one even dared walking in her way. But it was not the scared kind of making way, it was the impressed kind. She simply had something about herself that Mikey could not place his finger on. Maybe it was the way she dressed in simple clothes, a short skirt and a shirt that was a little too big for her, making her seem tiny and fragile, maybe it was her posture, the way she always held her head proud, but lowered so she glanced out from under her wild strands of tastefully messed up hair, maybe it was the way she walked so gently, as if she was almost floating. It was not something you would assume on the first glance, or the second, or the third for that matter, but Mikey knew her parents had money. Lots of money. Everyone in the whole school knew about it, and many kids still tried to befriend her just because of that, but not Mikey, no. He just loved watching her, and he melted inside when he heard her soft voice. There had been a rumor that she had gotten a car for Christmas, but nobody knew if it was true, since she always took the school bus, like all the other kids. Something that was no rumor though, was that she had had a long fight with her parents until she had convinced them to allow her to attend public school. Otherwise she would have been homeschooled.

“Dude, forget it, she’s out of your league,” Frank, Mikey’s friend snored and leant against his locker.

“Am I not allowed to dream,” Mikey wondered, annoyed that Frank had stolen his last precious seconds to watch her before she turned around the next corner.

“You always dream,” Frank whined and grabbed Mikey by the arm to drag him to class. “You should get out there and find someone who you could actually have a chance with.”

“Tomorrow maybe,” Mikey answered, his heart beginning to hammer in his chest when Frank dragged him towards the classroom door, that was right next to (Y/n)’s locker.

~*~

You quickly turned towards your opened locker when you saw Mikey being pulled down the hallway by one of his friends, a boy called Frank. You had successfully ignored him earlier, but now you felt your cheeks heat up at the mere thought of him. Something about him was different. You had gotten used to all the envious stares and glances when you walked in public. Not your fault your father was a bestselling author. But with Mikey it was different. There was tenderness in his eyes, interest that reached beyond your financial situation. His eyes seemed to follow you whenever you walked past him, but when you turned to meet his eyes, he always looked away. You loved the way he doodled on his notes in class, the way his quiet voice barely reached the front of the classroom when the teacher asked him to answer a question. He was really talented when it came to drawing and you admired that his notebooks were covered in superhero doodles that his brother had made, which Mikey had stuck on all of his school books. It really showed how much Mikey admired his brother.

Now he was being pulled past you, and only for a split second yours and his eyes met. You felt your insides warm up comfortably. Something about him made you feel safe, like he really was only interested in you and no one else.

When you finally took a deep breath and faced the corridor again, he was gone.

~*~

Music class was Mikey’s favorite class of the whole day. Not because it was the last lesson, but because you were in it. Nervously he tried fixing his hair in the bathroom mirror, but as soon as he stepped outside, Frank messed it up again but rubbing his head.

“Hey,” Mikey complained, trying to duck away from Frank’s attack but it was too late, his hair was already messed up again.

Of course he stumbled a few steps further, bumping into a girl, and when he looked up, his heart almost stopped. Of all the people in the school he could have bumped into, he had fallen against you, almost taking you down in the process. Quickly he extended his hands and grabbed you, saving you from a fall.

“Sorry, I’m so sorry, sorry, are you okay,” he babbled incoherently, his cheeks burning.

You had hardly realized what happened, only that two big hands were securely holding your upper arms, saving you from falling to the floor.

“I’m fine, thanks,” you mumbled, looking up into brilliant hazel eyes that scanned you worriedly and almost… afraid.

“I- I didn’t mean to- ahm- he- yeah, sorry again,” Mikey sputtered, letting go of your arms and waving around helplessly, pointing at Frank, trying to explain the situation.

“It’s okay…” you tried to tell the nervous boy, but he had already turned around and quickly disappeared around a corner.

~*~

You could barely concentrate in music class that day. Mikey was sitting at the other end of the room, absentmindedly picking the strings of an electric bass that was not plucked in, and you were dying to hear what he was playing.

So you took all the courage you could summon and walked over to him. At first he did not notice you, too focused was he on playing a little tune you immediately liked. But then, out of nowhere, Frank popped up at his side.

“Hello there,” he winked at you, making you roll your eyes, and Mikey look up.

He was obviously surprised to see you standing right in front of him and his cheeks reddened at the same time as yours once your eyes met.

“That sounded really good,” you complimented, deciding to ignore Frank’s comment.

“Thanks,” Mikey whispered almost inaudibly.

“He wrote it for a girl,” Frank added knowingly.

Mikey shot him an angry glare that you did not see, instead your heart sank a little.

“Oh,” you managed to get out, trying not to sound too disappointed, but that failed terribly. “She’s a lucky girl to get songs written about her.”

“It’s not a good song, so…” Mikey tried to explain, hoping that this would somehow not end up with him accidently confessing his feelings for her.

“I think it’s good,” you disagreed, “and even if it wasn’t, it’s still very special and incredibly valuable.”

“You think so,” Mikey asked, not yet allowing himself to hope that he might actually have done something that could impress you, you of all people.

“Of course! It’s something really personal, and it takes a lot of time and talent to write a song, or even just a melody,” you explained, trying to make him understand how much you adored his work.

“You think I’m talented,” Mikey asked with wide eyes, completely forgetting what Frank had just told him this morning; you were out of his league.

“Hell yes! That melody just right there was so beautiful, and dude, have you seen your art? It’s so gorgeous,” you told him excitedly, fully aware that you sounded like an excited fangirl.

“Thank you,” Mikey grinned.

For a moment you just stared at each other, and it felt like you had finally made a connection to the quiet boy you had been admiring from afar for almost a year now.

“The song is a really romantic gesture,” you finally said, breaking the silence, “I’m sure she’ll love it.”

“Really,” Mikey asked, deciding that he had waited long enough.

“Totally, she is really lucky to have you,” you answered, suddenly feeling sad again. You really hoped she was good to him. He deserved to be happy.

“Well,” Mikey hesitated, but then grabbed the notebook that had fallen shut next to his feet. He lifted it up and turned the pages until he had reached the one with the chords to the song he had been playing. He ripped out the page and folded it in half, handing the paper to you.

Confused you took the page out of his hand, and with a quick glance at Mikey you unfolded it again. Neat handwriting covered the page, lines of a song written down in tiny letters with chords for the bass written above it. You scanned the lyrics, a song about how the boy thought there was nothing he could do to gain the girl’s attention because she was too good for him, from a rich family while he was the son of workers. Only then her eyes caught the title. ‘For (Y/n)’.

Her breath caught in her throat as she read the title again and again, not realizing how nervous Mikey grew with every passing second.

“This is- this is so not true,” you finally breathed, looking up from the paper in your hand, “It so doesn’t matter who our parents are, or how much they earn or how big the houses are we live in, Mikey. And I am not, I repeat, not ‘too good for you’ or ‘out of your league’ because I don’t believe in that bullshit and also it would be really rubbish because I like you at least as much as you say in this song that you like me, and I really, really want to prove you wrong on the ‘not worthy of your love’ part.”

Mikey stared at you, still nervously holding his breath but with each second he felt like a weight was falling off his shoulders until he was feather light.

“Does that mean-“

“I like you, a lot,” you answered his question before he had finished it.

“Oh,” he mouthed.

“Don’t be so surprised, what is there not to like,” you laughed, feeling relieved to have finally admitted to your feelings for him.

“Uhm, a lot,” Mikey answered, still nervous and unable to believe he was not dreaming, “the glasses, the hair, the mouth…”

You shook your head.

“Your glasses are really cute, your hair,” you ran your fingers through the brown locks Frank had messed up earlier, “are super silky and your mouth,” you could not help the smile on your lips as you leant down to press them against Mikey’s who was still sitting with the bass in his lap, “are really, really soft.”

You leant back up and watched as a big grin appeared on Mikey’s face.

“Wow,” he whispered.

“Yeah, wow, pretty soft lips indeed,” you chuckled.

“No, I mean-“ Mikey put the bass aside and stood up, placing his hand on your cheek and gently pulling your face closer to his again, “this.”

He kissed you again, gently, without pressure and your eyes fluttered closed at the sensation.

“Hey guys, that was really, really kitschy, just so you know,” Frank commented from next to you, having watched the whole time.

“Shut up,” Mikey giggled, not finding it in him to care that Frank had seen everything. At least he had proven him wrong, you were not out of his league, because there was no such thing as leagues.

#mikey way x reader #mikey way x reader fluff #mikey way #mikey way fluff #high school #high school au #Frank Iero #fanfiction #fanfic #cute #fluff #fluffy #romance

131 notes · View notes

j0sgomez-blog · 5 years

Photo

By Michael Lanza

“There’s absolutely no one out here.”

I was just a few hours into a solo backpacking trip around Mount Rainier National Park’s 32.8-mile Northern Loop when that realization hit me. It was a cool, clear day in October 2003. None of my usual hiking partners had been available to join me. So I decided to do the trip alone, something I’ve done more times than I could count and felt comfortable with. I had no idea that this time I’d face the kind of situation that solo hikers think about but can never anticipate: a threat that shrinks the margin of safety in the wilderness down to nothing.

When I picked up my backcountry permit that morning, a ranger told me a snowstorm had hit the park just two days earlier. “You’ll probably run into at least a foot of snow on the ground at higher elevations,” he said. That didn’t dissuade me; I was prepared for snow. Neither of us, however, knew about the much bigger storm brewing out over the Pacific Ocean as we spoke, collecting moisture as it barreled toward the Cascade Range.

Mountain goats on Yellowstone Cliffs, along the Northern Loop in Mount Rainier National Park.

That conversation came back to me as I walked past the rippling water of a tiny tarn in a meadow on my way to Windy Gap. Just a few tiny patches of white remained on the ground at 5,600 feet. Sun and mild temperatures had evaporated the recent snow. But apparently no one had been out there since the storm, because even the rangers had no idea what trail conditions were like.

That’s when it hit me: With backcountry rangers warning anyone considering a trip that they would encounter deep snow, I would probably not see another person out there.

Autumn can be the finest time to head into the backcountry. The foliage changes color, brightening the landscape. There are no bugs. The weather often achieves something close to meteorological perfection: skies clear and dry, affording hundred-mile views, and temperatures not too hot during the day, not too cold at night. I’ve enjoyed some of my best days in the mountains in the fall.

But autumn exhibits a bipolar personality. And in October, you are as close to the mountain winter as you are to its summer. In some respects, it is more dangerous than winter because in fall it’s easy to get lulled into trusting the weather. But really good can turn really bad, really fast.

Looking back, I think that most if not all of my hardest, most wretched experiences in the backcountry have occurred between the autumnal equinox and the winter solstice. On Mt. Rainier National Park’s Northern Loop, I was about to add another to my list.

Hi, I’m Michael Lanza, creator of The Big Outside, which has made several top outdoors blog lists. Click here to sign up for my FREE email newsletter. Subscribe now to get full access to all of my blog’s stories. Click here to learn how I can help you plan your next trip. Please follow my adventures on Facebook, Twitter, Instagram, and Youtube.

Approaching Windy Gap on the Northern Loop in Mount Rainier National Park.

That first afternoon, I watched two mountain goats step nimbly across the crumbling face of Yellowstone Cliffs. Then, perhaps inspired by them, I scrambled off-trail from the little, unnamed tarn just before Windy Gap up a talus slope to the saddle between Crescent Mountain and Sluiskin Mountain. There, under a mostly clear sky, forested hills sculpted by ancient volcanic activity undulated away from me to the always improbably enormous, white mass of Mount Rainier (see lead photo at top of story).

Three of the biggest glaciers on “The Mountain,” as western Washingtonians affectionately call Rainier, pour off the northerly aspects I saw from that overlook: the Emmons, Winthrop, and Carbon. On my third day out there, I would walk past the toe of the Carbon, the lowest river of ice in the contiguous United States.

That night, I found myself cocooned in extremes of quiet and darkness, camped below giant firs, pines, and cedars. I could hear only the wind’s occasional perambulations through the treetops, and sank into a sleep as deep as the surrounding silence and blackness.

Click here for The Big Outside Trip Planner: Backpacking Mount Rainier’s Northern Loop

Reading the trip planner requires a paid subscription. Not a subscriber yet? Click here now to subscribe and get full access to all stories at this blog for as little as five bucks for a month, or just pennies over $4/month for a full year.

Lake James along the Northern Loop.

My second morning brought partly cloudy skies—nothing to suggest what was headed my way. I packed up early and headed downhill through cool forest, crossed the silt-gray West Fork of the White River on a log footbridge, then made a 2,500-foot climb up onto a plateau. The meadows of Grand Park sprawled out more than a mile across. A little while later, I reached the cirque of Berkeley Park, where dense copses of conifers mingle with fields of grasses and wildflowers. Though it was long past wildflower season, Berkeley’s rich hues of green give the impression of a meticulously landscaped park.

By afternoon, I was following the Wonderland Trail west across more high meadows. Rainier migrated in and out of clouds, but patches of blue sky let the sun through periodically. The scale of everything felt magnified by a powerful sense of solitude: On one of the country’s most famous backpacking trails, I saw not another human.

But more than that, by that point I had no expectation of seeing anyone else; and once you’ve crossed that mental threshold, you see your world differently. Instead of chatting with a hiking partner or wondering how many backpackers will be sharing the next camp, you are keenly tuned in to every nearby movement or noise, every change in the play of light or shift in the air temperature and wind. It’s not fear so much as a hyper-awareness that we rarely find in everyday life, as if a third eye suddenly sprouted on the back of your head.

Even in the wilderness of many national parks, seeing absolutely no one for days—conjuring a sense of this country’s wild edge before Western settlement—is a rare experience. Most parks, Rainier included, are popular enough that backcountry permit numbers are restricted, both to prevent resource overuse and to preserve some sense of solitude. But that only regulates the numbers of backpackers, of course, not dayhikers. While the number of people you encounter generally corresponds to factors like proximity to major population centers (Rainier’s Nisqually entrance is 85 miles from Seattle) and a trail’s difficulty and distance from the nearest road, during the peak hiking season, you usually cannot walk very far without running into other people.

The Northern Loop of Mount Rainier National Park is a sort of miniature version of the Wonderland Trail, the 93-mile-long footpath encircling Rainier that draws backpackers from all over the planet. The Northern Loop delivers the same Wonderland-esque experience of hiking from temperature rainforest to sub-alpine meadows bursting with wildflowers—in fact, the loop overlaps with a stretch of the WT. But because it’s not nearly as well known, getting a permit for it does not involve the level of competition that you’ll face trying to plan a summer trip on the Wonderland.

By the time I pitched my tent at the Mystic backcountry camp on my second evening, I felt like I’d hit the trifecta. For two clear, crisp autumn days I had basked in complete solitude with jaw-unhinging views of The Mountain and its meadows.

Then the rain came.

Plan your next great backpacking trip in Yosemite, Grand Teton, or other parks using my expert e-guides.

Above the West Fork White River along the Northern Loop in Mount Rainier National Park.

Throughout that second night, wind and water lashed at my shivering tent. In the morning, I ate breakfast inside my cool, damp little nylon shelter, packed up as quickly as I could as rain drummed onto me, and set out in conditions approximating a category one hurricane.

I’ve plodded down trails through biblical-scale rains from New Zealand to Vermont’s Long Trail. On the latter, I was attempting a thru-hike—also in an October several years before this Rainier trip, also solo (yes, I’m a patient learner)—but aborted it after two weeks and 10 inches of rain, heading home with waterlogged boots and spirits.

But I’m not sure I’ve ever seen rain like I saw that day on the north side of Rainier. The unrelenting downpour was punctuated by wind-borne sheets of water that hit me as if hurled from a barrel. Miserable as it was, though, it was hard to not feel awed. Following the Wonderland Trail around the shore of Mystic Lake, I watched the bizarre phenomenon of atmosphere impersonating ocean as visible waves of water rolled one after another through the air above the choppy lake surface. The rain fell torrentially and without pause; I could often see no more than one or two hundred feet before everything bled into a blank wall of battleship gray. Midday was as dim as dusk.

It became clear that I needed to get back to my car as quickly as possible that day—not just because the trip had ceased being fun, but for my own safety. I crossed a rain-slicked log bridge over a creek so bloated that its white teeth gnashed at the 10-inch-wide platform beneath my boots. Had I arrived there an hour later, the bridge might have been gone.

I hurried the miles to my car, anxious to be dry—but not fully aware of the urgency of escaping quickly.

I can help you plan the best backpacking, hiking, or family adventure of your life. Find out more here.

Berkeley Park along the Northern Loop.

That October 2003 tempest would become the second of four storms within just 12 years to cause 100-year or bigger floods in the Pacific Northwest, from Mount Rainier to the North Cascades and the Olympic Peninsula. Scientists now know that the warming climate is incubating larger, more destructive storms—in part simply because air can hold more moisture as it warms.

The third storm in that series, in November 2006, dropped nearly 18 inches of rain in 36 hours—the equivalent of getting 15 feet of snow. It triggered record floods in Mount Rainier National Park—destroying roads and trails, burying one backcountry campground beneath a massive lahar, or debris flow (no one was there at the time), washing away at least two dozen log bridges over creeks along the Wonderland Trail, and closing the park to motor vehicles for an unprecedented six months.

That 2006 storm would also swell the Carbon River sufficiently to erase a huge swath of the trail I was hiking on my last day on the Northern Loop, and the road I would drive out to civilization. (The trail was repaired; the road no longer exists.) It’s not hyperbolic to say that, had the 2003 storm begun a little earlier or stalled a little longer over the region, I might have ended up as the subject of the kind of brief accident report that parks issue now and then, which dryly explain that no trace of the missing person was ever found.

Click here for The Big Outside Trip Planner: Backpacking Mount Rainier’s Northern Loop

None of that transpired, of course. I made it safely to my car and drove out of the park, happy to be dry, warm, and safe. I told my wife what happened, but otherwise, almost no one knew how close I came to being a grim statistic.

Absolute solitude in the wilderness is a precious stone that should always be handled with care. It sometimes arrives gift-wrapped in circumstances magical and enlightening, or challenging far beyond what you expected—or both in the same trip.

And sometimes what transpires is mostly just a matter of timing and luck.

Tell me what you think.

I spent a lot of time writing this story, so if you enjoyed it, please consider giving it a share using one of the buttons below, and leave a comment or question at the bottom of this story. I’d really appreciate it.

NOTE: I write more about Mount Rainier National Park’s climate-change story in my book, Before They’re Gone–A Family’s Year-Long Quest to Explore America’s Most Endangered National Parks, from Beacon Press. See also my story about a three-day family backpacking trip in the park, “Wildflowers, Waterfalls, and Slugs at Mount Rainier.”

You live for the outdoors. The Big Outside helps you get out there. Subscribe now and a get free e-guide!

0 notes

wootensmith · 7 years

Text

Alas

The amulet was ready for the next layer of spells and he left Arlathan shortly after Abelas had moved the permanent camp to Andruil’s temple. It was a relief to be away, though Solas pretended to himself that it was only his anxiousness to return to work and not the wounded, barren land he left behind him, or the Sentinel’s ceaseless questioning. He didn’t notice the loneliness of Dirthamen’s temple again for several days. The spells were intricate, requiring all of his focus and memory of Dorian’s notes. It was high summer, the fields beyond the temple shimmered with heat and rang with sparrow song, but the temple remained icy and still. Solas had not even glimpsed the sun in over a week. He sat, dazed and achy, after finishing a particularly draining piece of the spellwork. In the morning, he knew, the quiet would hit him. Idleness would undo him again. He looked up as the sound of footsteps rang against the dark stone. Loranil crossed the large hall and Solas felt a sharp pain in his chest, realizing that he had not thought of the Inquisitor often in the past days, that he was becoming accustomed to missing her. The wound was no longer fresh. A glimpse of her face, an echo of her voice, he knew that was all it would require to throw him back to that first night he had parted from her. He struggled not to reach for that ache as quickly as he longed to. He rose but folded his hands behind his back to prevent himself from reaching for the scroll case Loranil was carrying at his side.

“I— Ir abelas,” said Loranil, “The Inquisition has been away from Skyhold for weeks. This was the soonest I could come.” Solas nodded. “More diplomatic missions?” “No. Not exactly. The Inquisitor— she has descended into an obsession with the Blight. But she makes no progress. She doesn’t eat, she sleeps rarely. Sends ravens out at all hours looking for any document that will help her find a cure. Commander Cullen became worried. He sent her to the Frostback Basin. There was a researcher there looking for the previous Inquisitor’s remains. The Commander thought it would be a good distraction. A way to shake her back to her old self. But—” “But?” Loranil turned the scroll case between his fingers and did not look at him. “She is worse. I don’t know what truly happened within the old Hakkonite fortress— they have all refused to speak of it, even Master Tethras. Rumors abound. That she met the old Inquisitor himself, that she saw only a reflection of herself instead of the Inquisitor’s remains, that she fought an old god. She was— quiet on the journey back, but I thought her only deep in thought.” “She’s said nothing about it?” asked Solas. “She sat with me once, during my watch. She asked me if my clan had any stories about corrupted dragons. That was all. Never another word except to Master Pavus.” Dragons? “What was your answer?” he asked aloud. Loranil blushed. “They are old superstitions. I know the truth now.” “That is what you told her or that is what you wish me to believe of you?” “I told her— I told her the things my grandmother used to whisper to me when she believed my parents weren’t listening. The things Keeper Hawen frowned upon or laughed at. I told her of the old legends of the Forgotten Ones. How they would sometimes shed their elf forms and go to battle as dragons. She sent a request for literature on archdemons and Tevinter’s old gods as soon as we returned.” “That does not sound worse than before.” “No, it wasn’t. Not until the dawn lotus began blooming.” He held out the scroll case. Solas reached for it, but Loranil held on. “The other ones, the ones she left at the amplifiers— I think she was hoping you’d find them. I think she left them hoping you would eventually seek out the amplifiers. This one— she buried it in the rubble near Skyhold. The pile of stones that was once a wolf statue. I don’t think she wanted anyone to know.” “Is your loyalty wavering?” asked Solas sharply. Loranil released the scroll and drew back in shock. “No. I was not aware that there was a divide between you. I thought— I believed you were allies. I am devoted to your cause, as ever.” “Good. I want every piece she leaves in her wake. Every scrap—” The boy shook his head, the hurt and betrayal plain on his face. “But that is not why I joined you. I am capable of more than just minding a woman in a fortress—” Ice crackled along the edge of the stone table, feathering from Solas’s hand in rapid crystals. Loranil took a step back and Solas took a deep breath to steady himself. “I know it seems I ask for something trivial. Something personal when you wish to be with the others, training for battle and claiming glory in the Black City itself. I will grant that I have a personal interest in the Inquisitor’s welfare. But this is not a trivial task. She does not require minding. But I would give her whatever aid I can. Do you understand why she drives herself to the edge of collapse in the Undercroft? Why she leaps from red lyrium to dragons to Tevinter religion?” Loranil blushed with shame. “I assumed as her companions did,” he said, “that the battle with Corypheus has taken a dire toll on her mind. Or— or you had.” The accusation stung. As if she were another soul claimed by the Dread Wolf. As if he’d used her up and left only a mad shell behind. Haven’t I? he asked himself. “She is not insane. She is my last— our last hope. She is searching for another way. A search I had long abandoned as fruitless. You are young, Loranil. Your idea of war is still colored by legend and by what you have seen the Inquisition do. But this war will not be glorious. It will not be honorable or noble. This war is one of survival. Of dirt and blood and stink. Of exhaustion and despair and, yes, madness. It is a war of survival. And without her, and others like her, it will be one of utter defeat. She is already fighting. You are not a minder of wayward children. You are a scout passing battle orders between generals.” “Then why do you never pass them back?” shouted Loranil. His voice echoed over the room. “Because I have no answers for her. Not yet.” He put a hand on the boy’s shoulder and tried to keep his voice gentle. “If you value this world, if you truly wish us to be restored, don’t desert her. There will be battle enough for all. But glory— that will only come if she succeeds where I have so often failed.” Loranil nodded and stumbled away, running for the eluvian, frightened by his own daring. Solas sank back into his seat and turned the scroll case over and over in his hand. Whatever was inside would trouble him, he knew. She would not have hidden it from him otherwise. It was a purge. Another hole in the dam. He could put it away. Stay in relative peace, where the ache for her was low and constant thunder. He knew the next thing he received from her would be cheerful and sweet. And inevitable. He could wait and pretend that all was well. Something sane in him urged him not to open the case, to lay it aside, let it roll beneath one of the dark bookshelves and stay forgotten. His fingers shook as he uncorked the case and tipped it carefully onto the table. The dry petals had lost none of their sweet smell, fluttering like snow onto the dark stone. He closed his eyes a moment and let the scent fill up his mind. All the memories of it were bitter. Even the last, standing on the chilly bank of the river rigid with rage as she tried to make him see the beauty around him. He wondered if it was that day that stuck in her mind. That pain that had made her hide the dawn lotus in the shattered rubble. The scroll was brittle, cracking under his touch, as if it had been many times wet and dried. He did not dare to open if fully, uncurling just enough to see the glitter of veilfire. Alas, the dawn lotus returns and you do not. I have failed you. He was drowning in the heavy, sweet smell. And sorrow, such sorrow. He sobbed without knowing as he fell deeper into the memory. A sea of blinding white stars spread over the dark of the river, swaying in the current. The moon hung over the mountains and the crickets were almost deafening, but he could not notice. He struggled against the pull of the memory, trying to ground himself back in his own mind. He could bear no more, though the memory was incomplete. How much she hid from him, even when she could not be certain he would find the other tokens she had left. He shoved the scroll away as if it seared his hand. A petal clung to his wrist. He pulled it off and it burst into a flash of flame and was gone. He immediately regretted it and gathered the others carefully, one by one, sliding them back into the case. He picked up the fragile scroll again, wincing as a corner crumbled away. The memory had drained what little strength that remained after the long spellwork. He rose unsteadily and stumbled to the narrow shelf that housed his bedroll. His fingers still curled around the dry paper as he slipped into the Fade. Actions

#Solas #Lavellan #solas x lavellan #dragon age inquisition

5 notes · View notes

smartgirlsaremean · 7 years

Text

The Question Falls - Chapter 1

Fandom: OUAT

Pairing: Rumbelle

Rating: T

Summary: Divorce attorney Gold knows better than to fall in love with a client. Really he does.

AO3

A folder landed with an unceremonious thwack on his desk. “Congratulations, Gold, you’re getting the Lefleur case.”

“What? Why?”

David Nolan shrugged and took the armchair across from Gold’s desk. “I don’t really know. You stomped through the conference room looking like a bear with a bee sting and five minutes later she asked if her case could be switched to you.” He grinned. “Maybe she likes you.”

“She probably thinks I’m more intimidating,” Gold pointed out. His handsome partner often had to fend off the advances of recent divorcees on the rebound. Gold had never had that problem.

“Well, you are, a lot, and she’s going to need it. Her soon-to-be-ex mother-in-law is a real piece of work.” Nolan stood. “I’ll let her tell you the particulars. The junior partners are pretty bummed that you got her, though; they were all hoping for a shot.”

“That lucrative a paycheck?”

Nolan shook his head and laughed. “Were you paying any attention at all when you blasted through my meeting?”

“I needed coffee.”

“So, no, then. Okay. She’ll be here in about an hour for your first meeting.”

Gold frowned as Nolan let himself out. When did the boy start making appointments for him? Gold opened the folder and began to familiarize himself with the case. No children, so no custody battle, thank God. Very few mutual assets, the only sticking point an apartment that the women were arguing over. There was little of Gaston Lefleur in the file, as if he had no actual part in the divorce proceedings; it was all more than a little odd.

A quiet knock on the door dragged him out of the file. “Yes, what is it?” he asked, shuffling the papers back into their folder.

“Mr. Gold, right?” The voice was unmistakably female and Australian.

“So it says on the door, dearie,” Gold sighed. He raised his head to look at the newcomer and his jaw dropped.

Jesus Christ. She was gorgeous .

The woman smiled. “Well, you never know, you could be an intern taking advantage of his lunch break.” She entered the room more fully and Gold hastily rose to his feet. In her sky-high heels she was only a few inches shorter than he. Her eyes, the most incredible blue he’d ever seen, swept over him. “But I doubt many interns can afford Armani.”

What? Oh. She was still talking about his little quip. But who the hell was she? “I’m afraid you have the advantage of me,” he said, thankful his voice hadn’t cracked like a teenager’s. “Who are you?”

She frowned a little. “Didn’t Mr. Nolan tell you I’d be coming? I’m Belle Lefleur; I asked for you to take over my case.”

Of fucking course she was. Well, now at least he knew why the junior partners had been vying over this particular file. If this divorcee went on the rebound, she’d have no shortage of eager applicants.

“Ah, yes,” he said aloud. “Have a seat, dearie.” He indicated the set of armchairs in the corner of the office and, after collecting her file, joined her there. In his experience, trust was not best established across a large mahogany desk. “I have a few questions for you. First: why switch to me? Nolan’s a perfectly capable attorney.”

“I’m sure he is,” she replied, lowering herself into one of the chairs. “He’s also very sweet and charming. My mother-in-law will eat him alive.”

“So you asked for me because I’m decidedly not charming?” he asked with a wolfish grin.

Her teeth sank into her lower lip and she looked thoughtful. “Well, you didn’t seem charming at the time.”

Gold wasn’t sure how to respond to that. “Right, well, if you don’t mind, I’d like to go over the file with you. It’s a little scant on the details, and I need to know them. All of them.”

“All of them?” Mrs. Lefleur chewed on her lip again. “Really?”

“I don’t like surprises. The last thing you need is your mother-in-law springing something on me that I don’t know about. I have to be prepared for every contingency.”

“Right, of course. Okay.” She sighed. “We were married a little over a year; we were together for a few months before that.”

“Quick engagement.”

“He was The One. I was so sure of it.” He smirked, but refrained from mocking her, and was surprised when she mirrored his expression. “I’ll bet every single woman who’s ever sat in this chair has said something similar, hasn’t she?”

“Well...yes. The men, too.”

She giggled and his face grew warm.

“Any previous marriages?”

“No.”

“Children from another relationship?”

“No.”

“Any mutual assets not mentioned in your file?”

“No.”

He drummed his fingers on the folder, wondering how he could discover what he wanted to know without being too blunt. “The grounds for divorce…”

“Irreconcilable differences.”

“Yes, yes, I can see that. What are those differences?”

She looked unnerved for the first time, twisting her fingers together and staring at the floor. She crossed and uncrossed her legs - long, lean, perfect legs - and finally rose, pacing a few steps. “Do you really have to know that?” she asked at last.

“I don’t like surprises.”

She sighed and pushed one hand through her thick auburn curls. “We, um...that is, he ...he didn’t...he couldn’t…”

There were a million ways to end that sentence, but Gold knew better than to offer suggestions. He watched as she paced a few more times, apparently attempting to find either the words or the courage to say them. After another moment she returned to her seat, clenching her hands in her lap and staring at her knees. She still didn’t speak, and Gold at last prompted her.

“Was there an affair?”

“What?” She looked startled. “No. At least, I don’t think so. I’m pretty sure.”

“Not for you, either?”

Her face burned bright red with shame. Aha.

“No,” she whispered. “They expected there to be, but no.”

“‘They’ expected it? Who are ‘they’?”

“His family. His mother and sisters-in-law. It’s apparently something of a...tradition.”

“A tradition. For a Lefleur wife to have an affair.”

“Yes.”

What in the bloody hell had she gotten herself into? Were they in a sort of polygamous cult and she hadn’t been aware?

She took a deep breath and spread her hands out on her lap. “Gaston couldn’t...he couldn’t…perform.”

“Hence the divorce? There are pills for that, dearie.”

“It isn’t a physical problem. We separated for a bit a few months ago and we sort of...hooked up one night...and a few nights after that. There wasn’t a problem then. But when we were properly together, husband and wife, family dinners, talking about children...nothing.” Her lips were quivering, but whether with sadness or anger he couldn’t tell. “When I was some bint off the street giving him a blowjob in a movie theater everything was fine, but when we were at home in our bed…”

“I get the picture,” he interrupted hastily. Too well.

Belle shrugged. “I thought maybe it would get better, but when we were in the Hamptons with his family, it sort of came out that all the men in his family are like that. His mother had an affair, his sisters-in-law, his cousin...all of them, because the men can’t get it up for their wives. They were all so blase about it! I just couldn’t...his mother sat there looking at me like I was crazy, and I wanted to ask her if she didn’t realize that expecting the situation would create a self-fulfilling prophecy. It’s incredible the family hasn’t died out; I have no idea how she managed to have kids.”

“IVF, probably.”

“Oh, God, you’re probably right,” she moaned, covering her face with her hands. “I felt like such an idiot. And poor Gaston…” She looked up when she heard the snort he couldn’t quite suppress. “No, I mean it. He loves me, I know he does. It hurt him as much as it hurt me. He was just waiting for me to screw the gardener, or the mailman, or the pool boy. He expected to discover me with my paramour every time he came home, and he wasn’t angry or jealous about it, he was resigned . Like he couldn’t do anything to prevent it, like it was inevitable. He didn’t trust me at all, and I just couldn’t live like that anymore.” Tears were flowing freely down her cheeks now, and Gold handed her the box of tissues he kept on the end table. “I kept telling him I didn’t want anyone else, I wanted him but he didn’t believe me. He never had.”

“Thank you for telling me, Mrs. Lefleur,” Gold said when she appeared calmer. “You see now why it was important for me to know? Your mother-in-law could easily have turned the tables on us and claimed that you were having an affair.”

“Please don’t call me that,” she sighed. “Call me Belle, or if you must be formal, use my maiden name, French.”

“Very well, Miss French. I see that the main point of contention is the apartment. You claim that Mr. Lefleur gave it to you?”

“When I told him I was going to file for divorce, I also said I’d move out. He told me to stay in the apartment and he’d find another place. He said...he said I deserved it.”

“Ah. Well, as you no doubt know, the problem lies in the fact that he does not actually own the apartment.”

“Right,” she huffed. “I knew that was fishy. Why would you give your son an apartment in name only? The control issues in that family…”

“We’ll have to make a fairly strong case for your ‘deserving’ it, as the law is technically on her side,” Gold warned her. “How far are you willing to go?”

To her credit, she took a moment to consider his question. “I put up with his low expectations and his mother’s sniping and his family’s innuendo. I was prepared to spend the rest of my life with him, and it’s not my fault I won’t be. I deserve to leave this marriage with something .” She took a deep breath. “I won’t say anything drastic, like ‘as far as I need to,’ but...pretty far. As far as I can go and still respect myself.”

Gold tried not to smile too broadly. “I’ll contact Mrs. Lefleur’s attorney and let you know when our next meeting will be. Until then…” He handed her a card. “Call me if you need anything, or if you remember anything that will make your case stronger.”

Belle French was really quite something, Gold thought to himself when she walked into the conference room. Mrs. Lefleur sat next to her lawyer, every inch the haughty society matron in a solemn high-necked dress and severe hairstyle, and she glared daggers at her daughter-in-law. The younger woman was dressed in another short, fashionable dress with four-inch heels, and it was clear that the harridan disapproved of every inch of her. Rather than cowering or looking sheepish, Belle tossed her head of curls and glared right back, taking her seat next to Gold.

“I see you’ve seen no reason to stop dressing like a common tramp,” Mrs. Lefleur sniffed.

“No, ma’am,” Belle answered sweetly.

“Disgraceful,” the older woman snapped. “I can’t wonder what Gaston saw in you, but I’m glad he came to his senses.”

Belle rolled her eyes. “I filed the divorce papers, Beryl, not the other way ‘round.”

“Well, it’s clear what you were after from the beginning, anyway. I insist you relinquish all claim to the apartment and move out immediately.”

“Gaston gave me that apartment, Beryl, and I have more than earned the right to keep it.”

“You gave up that right when you gave up on your marriage vows. In my day those vows meant something.”

Eyes flashing, Belle leaned forward. “Not the way I heard it. Don’t the traditional vows call for fidelity?”

Mrs. Lefleur’s face flushed and Gold, loath as he was to interrupt this truly glorious argument, stepped in.

“Mrs. Lefleur, you say that Miss French holds no claim to the apartment. Do you have documents to that effect?”

“Of course we do,” Albert Spencer said haughtily, pulling the deed and bill of sale from his briefcase and passing it across the table. “As you can see, the deed is in the Lefleur family’s name. Mrs. Gaston Lefleur has no claim to it.”

“Gaston gave me that apartment,” Belle insisted. “He said so before he left for France.”

“It wasn’t his to give,” Mrs. Lefleur sniffed.

Gold took up the contracts and looked them over. He leaned closer to Belle and whispered in her ear. “It’s up to you, Miss French. This could be a difficult fight if Mr. Lefleur doesn’t step in for you.”

“All I want is the apartment. She can keep everything else.”

“Well, it appears we’re getting nowhere here,” Gold said turning back to look across the table. “Miss French will take some time to consider and we’ll revisit the issue next week.” He stood and tapped the folder on the table, then walked out of the conference room.

Belle was right behind him.

“What do you mean, consider?” she hissed when they were out of earshot. “I’m not considering anything!”

“I’m stalling, Miss French,” Gold said coldly. “I have an ace up my sleeve - or will have in a little while - and I need time. By all means continue to needle and prod your mother-in-law, it distracts her from the issue.”

“Can you imagine spending holidays with that woman?” Belle huffed, crossing her arms and leaning against the wall next to his door. “And you should have seen the apartment before I redecorated it. It was the place plaid furniture went to die. Not that I have anything against tartans in general, but one can celebrate one’s heritage without drowning in it.”

“Quite. I doubt you replaced the plaids with didgeridoos and boomerangs.”

She smiled, and the sheer brilliance of the expression nearly took his breath away. “You really do have something planned?”

“I do.”

“It has to do with Gaston, doesn’t it?”

“Yes.”

“I guess I’ll just have to trust you, then.” She made an odd little gesture, as if she’d thought about reaching for his hand but reconsidered. “See you later, Mr. Gold.”

#rumbelle #rumbelle fic

27 notes · View notes

emalynde · 7 years

Text

Elf Boyfriends D&D Game RP!

((So we have our magnificent D&D game that has been affectionately titled the elf boyfriends campaign--it’s the game that yields the D&D SSO journals from Chelyse’s perspective. I also have another storyline woven into the campaign kinda behind the scenes that features Thalandril--Chelyse’s brand new lifemate--and the woman who would now be considered his consort. Here’s a bit of their interactions. I’ll be writing and clarifying what’s occurred to catch everyone up on the slowly converging story, too. All the RP \o/)) Emalynde was lounging casually in the overstuffed armchair that sat in the corner of Thalandril's office, a somewhat coy and confident cast to her demeanor. She was early. Earlier than he was to arrive to his own place of work. A write-up had been tossed upon his desk, intentionally haphazard in the way that it was at an angle compared to the perfectly positioned papers, writing utensils, and other such materials. Because the agent would be familiar with Emalynde on a personal level, he might note that she seemed ever so slightly tired--as if she had not had the time to trance fully--and that the redhead sported a select few cuts and bruises. The abrasions might allude to the fact that she had seen some physical confrontation recently, although the traces of as much were hastily concealed, albeit not entirely. She was here to report in, although the enchantress did not always do so in person. Emalynde's most recent endeavor had been to gather intelligence upon an upper-echelon noble that was suspected of allowing the drow passage into Evermeet--and not for the purposes Jarlaxle would support. Drow infiltration was perhaps the one, serious threat to the sun elves of Leuthilspar, as the capital was a more likely target for actual damage rather than simple raids. Whatever information the smirking elf retrieved, it seemed to have been a more difficult task than normal. Or otherwise special in some way. It was a delicate matter, certainly, given that the individual in question was rather high-ranking, but of dour importance given his proximity and influence exerted upon the ruling parties of Evermeet.

*** The door to Thalandril's office opened as the lithe elf walked in, nose buried into a report in his hands. Without seeming to miss a beat, he snaps his fingers and a series of candles light across the room, giving a scented glow to the ambiance. "I assume the mission went well, seeing as you're early?" He stated, proceeding to walk to his desk and lower the report onto a perfectly squared stack of papers. He unconsciously tidied up after, make doubly sure everything was in neat working order across his desk.He didn't mention the fact that it was quite obvious she had a run in with one of the more notorious female abusers of the city. She was, in fact, one of his best operatives, and had proven she could handle herself in a pinch. Letting emotion cloud the way he treated her was exactly what he was having to bury away. This was professional now. Their past could not intercede with the future; this was the way it had to be. Thalandril had a look of almost forced professionalism, as memories of what conspired upon his desk on numerous occasions flew through his brain. He coughed politely and regained his composer. *** Emalynde arches a single, well-shaped brow, rising from her seat with feline grace--the movement fluid and graceful. It was also sensuous in its way, every muscle of her form trained to move in the most appealing manner possible--when she wished it so. Despite looking a bit worn, the redhead smirks, smooth steps carrying her toward Thalandril's desk, where the rogue stood. "Well enough," she laughs, the sound light and melodic. It was her orchestrated laugh, and he would know it. It was too perfect. Too well-constructed.It was unlike Thalandril to not even look at her. His aloofness was a staple of their playful banter that the Companion relished, but it was if the intelligence agent refused to view her. Advancing to the edge of his desk, Emalynde rests her palms upon its surface, leaning forward into the posture. She sought his gaze, now intrigued as to what had caused this perceived change of mood (for that was what she presumed this shift to be). "You missed me little, I see," the redhead teases, paying rather close attention to even the smallest details of her friend's reaction. She does somber in an instant, though, allowing Thalandril only a brief moment to respond. "Dwin'orrel did not allow me the time I would have preferred to move about his home, nor were his premises left unguarded." A slight sigh parts the enchantress' lips, letting her line of sight drift off to the side slightly in resignation. "I have permit another rendezvous with the magister to satisfy your curiosity, my dear Head of Intelligence Operations." The title was almost mocking, given their personal relationship--even if it was only as close friends. Her golden eyes flick back up to attempt to meet Thalandril's own, quite serious. "I hope you appreciate the gesture. This one does not play nicely." *** Thalandri'ls golden eyes darted away at the comment. Of course he missed her, but now he couldn't. He had finally been reunited with the one who truly held his heart. Lust was always a vice they shared, however, even that was too far for what he was now doing. This was for the best. "Did I now?" He replied coolly, not knowing how to really continue this exchange, since he would no longer allow himself to dance with the redhead so. Realizing she was getting right into the report, he relaxed a bit, no longer worried about where to take the conversation. He listened intently to the priestess’ words, playing them back through his head as he thought through and analyzed everything brought to his attention. "I do think that is best. Another meeting with this man may get us what we want. It just so happens you have an appointment with Lamruil Teth'Sol; he has been commissioned to make you a full new wardrobe. Benefits of the job I suppose." He tossed a quick smirk at Emalynde. Lamruil was the best tailor in the entirety of Evermeet - maybe even all of Faerun. At over a thousand years old, the ancient elf had perfected his craft. His wait list is hundreds of years long for a single dress. The things Thalandril had to do to procure this will keep the Head of Intelligence up for a few trance-less nights. *** Emalynde's heart sank slightly at the exchange. Seldom was Thalandril unsure of himself--or of anything, really--but that's what she saw marked upon her childhood friend's face. Or, what she thought she saw, at least. The redhead could never truly be sure, although she would never admit as much to him. Part of the Companion wanted to press the issue, to see exactly what the matter was--but now wasn't the time. Emalynde cared for Thalandril and could tell that something was troubling him, but she knew not what. She watches him while she relayed her news, appraising his mannerisms and body language. While they were by no means officially involved, the pair shared one another's bed regularly--and that was the only time Thalandril truly let his walls down around her. Playing along, although she was inwardly rather worried, Emalynde's eyes lit up, standing upright suddenly to clasp both hands to her chest. "Thalandril," she purrs, still putting on somewhat of a show in keeping with their typical maneuvers, "You do love me." Emalynde tosses a wink at the intelligence agent, relaxing into a more casual posture once more. "An entire wardrobe, hmm? You must be painfully unaware of just how many garments are currently in my possession." She was toying with him plainly, utilizing the tone of voice intended to cause his hair to stand on end and his mouth to become dry--among other choice bodily reactions. Emalynde also knew that Thalandril would recognize her rather obvious methods. She was testing their waters, and therefore was conveying indirectly that she was aware that something was amiss and was concerned. All without saying as much--nor making anything awkward. Emalynde assumed the most endearing pose she could, something she had use on the intelligence agent before to curry his favor. Having spent almost 150 years in the rogue's company in one way or another, the redhead was privy to some of Thalandril's proclivities. She hadn't had to actually try with the blonde in what seemed like centuries; they had always danced this seamless dance that came to her as easy as breathing. "My place tonight, then, as usual?" Something pulled at Emalynde's chest, as if she were short of breath slightly. Perhaps this was worse than she thought. It was the beginnings of slight unease, the priestess always assuming that if something was wrong, it was her fault. It was always her fault, it seemed. She spoke somewhat softly, in a voice reserved for intimate conversations that followed their bedroom escapades. The enchantress was sparing no punches here, aiming directly for Thalandril's heartstrings. *** Thalandril stood up and moved fluidly over to one of his immaculate bookcases, subtly rearranging this and that, as though nervously fidgeting. "As usual? That makes you sound predictable Emalynde. Tsk tsk." He smiled outwardly, but cringed inwardly. Does he do this slow and easy, or go right for the blunt truth of the matter? Unknowingly, he closed his eyes as he decided he had to choose now, the strain almost evident. It was not normal for him to be like this; the rogue was normally so cool and controlled. Why was this getting to him? He was in love with Chelyse, and wanted to devote himself to her. He couldn't do that with Emalynde around in their current capacity. "I think we should go for a spot of tea." The last thing he wanted to do was hurt what was most probably his closest friend. "It is quite stuffy in here; a nice breeze may clear things up." He offered his arm to her, and a genuine smile. She was ravishing, alluring, enticing... The agent stopped himself from that line of thought as his blood started to heat up. This would be harder than he thought it would be... Was this the right choice? *** Emalynde watches the rogue move around her, sensitive to every minute expression upon his face. As the intelligence agent traveled to toy with the numerous books within their case, the redhead frowned. Straightening, smooth steps carry her within an inch of his person, her freckled visage tilted upwards so that he could not avoid her rather direct confrontation. "You, too, are rather predictable, my dear Thalandril." It was a low blow, to say his name like that. It was a trait she utilized with her clients: the subtle, honeyed pronunciation of their name--as if it's utterance held special weight and connotation. She had made frequent use of it when Thalandril and herself were meeting at the monthly gala, but it had probably been only every so often--and only on special occasions--since then. "You forget that I know exactly what makes your knees weak." She attempts to hold his gaze, so that he knew that she knew. The response just about baffled her, causing the enchantress to blink almost blankly at her friend before slipping her arm into his. All this was so unlike him. What could she possibly have done wrong? "Later, then," she concedes, reverting back to her normal tones and behavior. Emalynde pauses a bit, halting their progress, as she asks: "I have not seen the damage; must I spend a few more moments healing my... abrasions? I do not wish to draw attention to them." Tending to the marks if necessary, the pair soon head out into the streets of downtown Leuthilspar--the most active elven city in existence. They had a place they preferred to dine, although typically for brunch or drinks. It would work for tea. The Companion flashes a warm smile at the waitress, intentionally acting as if she were Thalandril's consort just to spite him for the earlier rejection. Settling down across from her friend, the redhead rests her elbows against the table, fingers threaded into one another so that she could rest her chin upon the platform created. "What needs to be cleared up?" Despite Thalandril's prowess at their dance, he was certainly off his game this morning and Emalynde saw no point in beating about the bush, so to speak. *** Leaning back in his chair, elbows resting on the arms with his hands together, fingers threaded with a single pair of digits sticking up, Thalandril keeps the gaze of the priestess. "Right to the point then, are we?" He closed his eyes and leaned his head back, taking in a deep breath. Upon exhalation, he opened his eyes and started up at the ceiling. How to do this: "I'm sure you're aware I have been bound, yes? Chelyse came back into town, and it was rather quickly that it all happened." He looked down to see her reaction upon mention of Chelyse's name. Everyone knew the young paladin was bound to come back at some point. It had been 50 years. No messages. No warning. He couldn't break Emalynde's cover that she had--until this morning--been under to inform her. He knew that the Companion would worry that it was something that she had done, and thus felt compelled to explain. That was always one of her flaws. But could she understand? She did not know what love felt like, and now he did. What the two of them had was lust. Incredible lust... but in the end it was simply companionship. That was her job after all, and she was so horribly good at it. He's not even sure the young prodigy of Hanali knew what love was, with the life that she lived. He hoped one day she might find it. Somewhere. *** The redhead arches a single brow, making little effort to conceal how perplexed she was at the mention of his business arrangement; what had it to do with her? "Yes. I have met the girl while acting as Companion for her eldest brother. Sweet family, although I must admit they keep rather strange company. That is an awful lot of sha'quessir to designate at once, much less for a single house. What of it?" Emalynde's mind raced through the many possible explanations for his behavior--was he simply filling her in as to some parameter of his new relationship that had soured his disposition? Or perhaps he was cross that she had been away so long. She softened at that thought, the slight irritation at Thalandril's indirectness ebbing away. A silken slippered foot moves to brush against his ankle and slightly upwards, her voice more gentle, "What ails you?" *** "As much we both know, I love the game we have played. However... I feel it is best not to play it any longer. May I speak candidly? As friends?" Thalandril asked, pained by something. Having to deal with feelings--and the way others felt--was difficult as it was, but adding to it the complexities of playing a mind game at the same time is needless. Especially when it might end up burning the other person rather badly. Plus, who best to help him understand himself and what was happening than Emalynde? She was always the one that helped ground him and figure out dilemmas as would a normal person, instead of the almost mechanical being he had attempted to be for so many years. They had probably had dozens of candid conversation, where the game was turned off and they could just discuss what was happening in their lives. It was a logical process, seeing as the only real, true friendship the other had seemed to be sitting across the table. He hadn't even realized that he had put pressure against the young elf's silken foot, until he got a slight jolt up his spine. She was good. Damn her. His face blushed ever so slightly at her touch, but he did not pull away. His heart rate had already begun to pick up, as he waited for his companion’s reply. *** Emalynde's expression reflected the confusion that permeated her thoughts. "If you wished to discuss something personal," she muses aloud, "your office was perfectly suitable..." He might be able to watch the processes unfold upon her visage, putting piece after piece together to try to figure him out. "But of course." She gestures with her words, sweeping a hand outward in a short gesticulation. But a smirk quickly curls her lips as she realized that Thalandril was actually blushing at her touch. The Companion lets her gaze alight upon the intelligence agent triumphantly. "Have you missed me so thoroughly that you cannot find it in yourself to play?" Emalynde seemed rather pleased with herself. "You have been rather off your stride this morning. I daresay I win." The rogue receives a most beguiling smile, one that's so genuine of her desire to best the most cunning adversary the freckled elf had known. Driving her point home, Emalynde slides her pointed foot upwards along the inside of Thalandril's calf, the movement intended to be alluring. It was mostly playful, though, as one of their pastimes is making the other blush publically. And she had won so easily. *** Thalandril tried to focus on the matter at hand, as the elven temptress worked her trade on him, riling him up. He coughed into a handkerchief and moved to pour some tea. "I am not on my game today, I'm afraid. One of those occasions, it seems." He let out a sigh as he filled his own cup with tea--the perfect amount followed by an exact amount of sugar and milk, as he had done a thousand times the same. "I will let you have this little victory, even if you cheat." He winked at her as he filled a second cup with dark brown, sweet-smelling tea, going about making it the way she liked. "I guess we should start with a story, then." Thalandril then goes into detail about the evening he had with Chelyse and the others at the sushi bar on the shore: how it began, proceeded, and ended. "Since then... I have felt... different . As though there was something more. However, I cannot really grasp the whole feeling." She could see the pain under his eyes; he was not used to being confused or not having control of a situation--that being his feelings for Chelyse. "These feelings are leading me to desire nothing but Chelyse." He took in a deep drink of his tea, warmed by the perfect mixture, knowing that this would indeed hurt his lovely companion, but hoped that his explanation would help her realize that it was not her fault in any way. *** At Thalandril's sincerity, the freckled elf ceased her teasing, a slight smile still hovering against her mouth, but more so fond than anything else. She does beam, though, as the rogue admits defeat--like an eager student, almost, receiving praise from a mentor. But she does not gloat. "Thank you," she says gently, already leaning forward across the table slightly to cup the tea Thalandril was pouring her with both hands. She listens attentively to the story told to her, reacting genuinely as it unfolded. Emalynde understood as the narrative drew on. She had been on several such outings with customers who had made a habit of continuously frequenting her company. Those who made the most use of her companionship, regulating her--in their minds--to the role of lover. They found actual love, broke the news to her as one would a partner--despite the fact she did not return that sentiment--and then went on their way. Why should she be surprised when it happened with Thalandril? But she was. The feeling crept up on her, as she realized what was occurring, like a growing unease. A smile remained fixed to her freckled features all the same, not daring to let him see. Don't be silly, she told herself, it is not as if he does not wish to see you ever again. Whereas her clients were just that--clients--Thalandril was her friend... her employer, in a way, with whom she shared a rather intimate relationship, admittedly. Reaching out, she places a warmed hand (a result of cupping her glass) upon his own. "I am happy for you," she remarks in softened tones, genuine in her well-wishes. Not one to leave anything unclarified, Emalynde continues forwardly, "I shall return your... possessions that have remained at my home." She was making sure that he did not intend to visit her in that capacity again. Gods, why was this difficult? *** Thalandril sighed in relief. "Thank you; I guess it would be... proper to have it all returned. Although your residence is always a safe place to hide out without worrying about having my things on me..." He mused about the tactical implications of keeping a set of clothes and toiletries at Emalynde's home, not even considering that she was meaning he might not visit her again in the way he had for so long. "I do, however, hope to keep up our regular outings; you do happen to be the only friend I can go out with, you know." The roguish elf smiled at her, equally worried about her, but happy that she had not made an issue of the situation. "Would you care to order anything? My treat of course." *** Emalynde lets her fingers slide slowly free from atop Thalandril's hand, sitting up properly with the same, shield-like smile on. She was afraid that her closest friend would see through her, but he did indeed seem very much off his game. To her advantage, at least, she thought. How odd this sensation was. It unsettled her more that she could not place it, what it was. She was unwilling to admit any jealousy. Thalandril’s and her relationship was not like that. Perhaps the problems was that someone else was taking up the time of the individual she had spent the last 100 years of her life with. The smile that turned the corner of her lips upward was one of relief, almost. "I would like that," she admits, her fear at being discarded abating somewhat. It was just the sex, then. Emalynde could easily replace the intelligence agent with a number of willing participants--he had just been her partner of choice for so long. At the invitation to dine with the rogue, Emalynde politely declines, her expression somewhat unreadable. "Forgive me," she explains, "I do not feel entirely well." It wasn't a lie; she did feel strange. And discussing it with her closest friend felt... wrong. Standing, the redhead offers her friend a smile before gliding toward Thalandril's chair, bending at the waist to cup his jaw in a gentle hand. Softly, she presses her lips to his. If he yielded to the kiss, she would engage him more deeply for a few moments, ultimately pulling away. The tips of her fingers trailed against his jaw, departing without another word. *** "I see. Well then, perhaps another time. I do hope you feel better." He saw through this. This was her act, her job, but why was she behaving so? This was unlike her. Thalandril watched as the freckled elf got up and walk over to him. At first he was surprised at her lips touching his. He did not, however, resist, instead letting his blood become more heated. She was one hell of a individual. Even with her guard up, she could make him feel lightheaded. The rogue watched after Emalynde as she exited the establishment, hoping he still had a friendship intact. That relationship was very meaningful to him. Worry crept up his throat, though, at the possibility she had not left amiably; did he miscalculate? Is that even possible? ((All this happens the day before Chelyse returns to Evermeet from Nexus for a brief stay. Day after that, Chelyse and Thalandril have lunch and she tells him that she’s staying in Nexus permanently and in love with Kasimir. He’s not pleased. In fact, he storms out of the restaurant. To add to the rogue’s bad day, Emalynde isn’t ever home when he looks for her, she doesn’t respond to his calls, etc. She disappears. The DM lovingly titled this bit of storyline as, “I’ve got 99 problems and bitches are all of them,” a remark by Thalandril.))

#rp #dungeons and dating #dungeonsanddragons #D&D soap opera synopses #d&d #d&d 5e #d&d shenanigans #dungeons and dragons #elf boyfriend #elf boyfriend problems #Ema writes stuff #emalynde Ilayne Inara #oc #elves

2 notes · View notes

thestonedhw-blog · 7 years

Text

Was it the 3 am alarm or the 1 am bedtime that left me more than surprisingly blissful for my trip to Los Angeles? I think it was everything being so synchronized the entire trip. I met amazing people and found lifelong sisters once again. Read all the way to the end to enter for a chance to win one of Two Stashlogix bags I am giving away!

Thanks to Stashlogix for making my trip the absolute easiest traveling packing I have ever experienced. Can I be the first to test out a Stashlogix Suitcase?! Kickback and relax with me while I rock onto Electric Ave and then we’ll take it higher!

SUNDAY

My heart sank multiple times within the first two hours of walking out the front door, starting with walking out to my Lyft my 2 year old noticed I wasn’t in the bed, and started the sad middle of the night, “MAMA hold you!” cry (for any mom this is one of those times its hard to fight back the tears). The second was the moment I got my coffee after TSA Pre Check and realized I left the most important part of my trip being successful…MY BREAST PUMP attachment pieces. Breastfeeding is such a wonderful gift that can quickly feel like a curse when you are gorged out of your mind. Which can happen in good 8 hours of no contact. Target to the rescue! Not only do I want to be extremely budget conscious on this trip, I am ALWAYS looking for a deal. when I saw I could get the accessory pack for less than $18 with a coupon from Honey, (this google chrome extension is a MUST have for the thrifty coupon code looking housewife) with in store pickup only a few miles from Venice, I eased back into my “let go and let it be” flow.

This is the first trip I have left my youngest for more than just a few hours since she was 5 months old, It seems unreal to put that into words! So as I am sitting at the Airport waiting for my flight, listening to Bobs Burgers, with my amazing Stashlogix bags( which are holding everything from my camera to makeup) this trip had officially begun.

The in flight wifi was a double edged sword on Southwest Airlines. The $8 price tag was not worth the hassle of how badly I wanted to catch up on The Magicians latest episode, but the Syfy channel did not work on the plane because they limit the streaming of certain sites…..so next time I am prob going to skip that and keep my 8 bucks while downloading whatever I want from Netflix. I did get to see the Grand Canyon from 40,000 feet so That was AWESOME!

#gallery-0-49 { margin: auto; } #gallery-0-49 .gallery-item { float: left; margin-top: 10px; text-align: center; width: 33%; } #gallery-0-49 img { border: 2px solid #cfcfcf; } #gallery-0-49 .gallery-caption { margin-left: 0; } /* see gallery_shortcode() in wp-includes/media.php */

Once I landed in Los Angeles if wasn’t until I walked into Abbot’s Habit, that I felt truly immersed beneath the palm tree lined streets and oddly cloudy weather I didn’t expect. (This come full circle with Mama Sailene, keep reading Its about to get SO REAL! )Abbot’s Habit is an amazing little place that has delicious soups, coffees, fresh juice, and bomb ass sandwiches. I had the Bobo Chicken with a small Red Pepper soup. It turns out I was meeting a great friend and pioneer in the Venice community Tuesday morning named Mama Sailene. Who happened to be a well know host of very sought after events at this pregentrification Abbot Kinney coffee shop.

#gallery-0-50 { margin: auto; } #gallery-0-50 .gallery-item { float: left; margin-top: 10px; text-align: center; width: 33%; } #gallery-0-50 img { border: 2px solid #cfcfcf; } #gallery-0-50 .gallery-caption { margin-left: 0; } /* see gallery_shortcode() in wp-includes/media.php */

Abbot’s Habit

Sunday was my day to explore Venice, so I lugged my suitcase up and down Abbot Kinney Blvd until I was able to check into my AirBnb. I popped into a couple amazing stores including Mystic Journeys which felt like my home away from home. I seriously thought about getting a nap in on their couch beside the wind chimes but was pretty excited to see the sunset over the Pacific for the first time.

#gallery-0-51 { margin: auto; } #gallery-0-51 .gallery-item { float: left; margin-top: 10px; text-align: center; width: 33%; } #gallery-0-51 img { border: 2px solid #cfcfcf; } #gallery-0-51 .gallery-caption { margin-left: 0; } /* see gallery_shortcode() in wp-includes/media.php */

Mystic Journey

I didn’t think I was going to be able to eat much at my reservation for Cafe Gratitude at 1 that day by 12:30 I was really feeling tired, but I did and it was unreal as well. Cafe Gratitude is a short walk from the shops at Abbot Kinney so Of course as soon as I saw the pup friendly patio at CG I was wide awake. I love seeing the happiness and love that exudes from every dog especially when they can sense I am one of their kindred spirits. Dogs are totally one of my spirit animals. He was just like my bulldog refusing to fall game to the paps.

With small tapas all consciously titled under the massive I AM heading, the menu does not fall short. I had the I am Intuitive, a blend of sweet potatoes fries and purple potatoes with a spicy Chashew Aioli and Gremolata. Along with a digestive aid sparking water with essential oils of peppermint.

#gallery-0-52 { margin: auto; } #gallery-0-52 .gallery-item { float: left; margin-top: 10px; text-align: center; width: 33%; } #gallery-0-52 img { border: 2px solid #cfcfcf; } #gallery-0-52 .gallery-caption { margin-left: 0; } /* see gallery_shortcode() in wp-includes/media.php */

Cafe Gratitude

I checked into my AirBnb around 3pm to fully relax. This place was more magical than I anticipated and I was overwhelmed with being by myself for the first time. So honestly I took some time to cry and let my emotions flow through me.

#gallery-0-53 { margin: auto; } #gallery-0-53 .gallery-item { float: left; margin-top: 10px; text-align: center; width: 33%; } #gallery-0-53 img { border: 2px solid #cfcfcf; } #gallery-0-53 .gallery-caption { margin-left: 0; } /* see gallery_shortcode() in wp-includes/media.php */

I brought my small container of my moms ashes to bring her to the beach inspired by my pal Cole Peddie which is what he does with his brothers ashes. My mom moved to California in the early 70s with two kids and a suitcase. I can not imagine how she felt being in such a majestic place. As I walked down the Ocean Front Walk I could see the days long past, the artistry changing by the gentrification of Venice by the wealthy middle class that keeps happening in cycles every 20+ or so years. When I arrived at Ocean Front I did not expect to be greeted by the giant mural of Jim Morrison I had on my list to see but there he was smiling down welcoming me to his home from the past where he sat on the beach where him and Ray crossed paths to create one of the most legendary groups in rock and roll history. I’m talking about The Doors. Jim fell in love with Pam in these very streets, streets so filled with love it inspired great poetry.

I watched the sun set over the ocean while on the rooftop of the Hotel Erwin at High Rooftop Lounge. This trip felt like such a weekend getaway and Monday, the cornerstone of the trip was approaching fast.

#gallery-0-54 { margin: auto; } #gallery-0-54 .gallery-item { float: left; margin-top: 10px; text-align: center; width: 33%; } #gallery-0-54 img { border: 2px solid #cfcfcf; } #gallery-0-54 .gallery-caption { margin-left: 0; } /* see gallery_shortcode() in wp-includes/media.php */

My night ended with a Nice Canna Company edibles and lounging on a luxurious red velvet couch designed from the 18th century and watching Bob’s Burgers. You can take the girl out the country but you can’t take her away from her comedic roots. Also this mama bear was asleep by 8PM.

MONDAY

Today was the big day! I had an entire day planned of exploring, Kundalini Yoga, and filming. I jumped out of the bed and treated myself to the first private and kid free morning I have had in A LONG ASS TIME! I was completely in my own energy and for someone who is surrounded all the time it was the perfect balance for awakening in this powerful place on the Spring Equinox of all days. Divine Timing is prob the Phrase of the Trip.

I walked down 0.9 miles from my Airbnb to the Rama Institute where the feminine energy of change has manifested and created a space by the powerful soul Guru Jagat. My dear friend and Kundalini Yoga instructor for The Green Lodge, Loren, introduced me to practices that I was unfamiliar with and brought me back to enjoying Yoga and ultimately life on a new level. I had been to some Cannabis led yoga practices in Colorado and became so over stimulated by the downtown 10 am beating down and I could not enjoy or engage successfully in the practice. It was to much over stimulation of the pineal gland with the cannabis intake before.

When I began practicing Kundalini Yoga, there was a definite awareness of the extreme power in these practices. Yogi Bhajan took the best from each branch of Yoga to provide the most effective healing imaginable. The healing force of the sound current is unimaginable and extremely beautiful when beings come together to heal together as a community.

Kundalini Yoga- Each class is comprised of a warm up, kriya, and meditation. A KRIYA is a set of postures, sound current, and breath work. MANTRA means sound current. It instills a sequencing that alters the functioning of the brain and body. MEDITATION in kundalini yoga is in essence a directing of energy. Unless specified, you are not expected to keep your mind blank. _From RAMA.com

I arrived at RAMA just before 9 o’clock and settled into the class led by Sat Purkh (Kelsey Stevens who was subbing for Guru Jagat while she was in Nicaragua for the Equinox). A small class of us were led through a balancing Kriya and at the end she played the enormous gong which made me feel like I was in outer space. The sounds of the universe were resonating through me and it was a great intensity.

I walked out of RAMA feeling so balanced and elevated. I headed back down Lincoln Blvd and stopped in The Flowerboy Project for a refresher and the entire store was something out of a book! I then walked down to The Mart Collective, which I easily killed an hour+of time exploring all the antique vendor booths.

#gallery-0-55 { margin: auto; } #gallery-0-55 .gallery-item { float: left; margin-top: 10px; text-align: center; width: 33%; } #gallery-0-55 img { border: 2px solid #cfcfcf; } #gallery-0-55 .gallery-caption { margin-left: 0; } /* see gallery_shortcode() in wp-includes/media.php */

The Mart Collective

FlowerBoy Projects Art on the shelves

I perused a little farther down the street to find The Venice Love Shack which I could not resist stopping in and talking to the etching artist Brinnin Broski where we had one of my favorites conversations of the entire trip. You know when you meet someone who is just in you Soul Family?! Brinnin is AMAZING and doing some tangible and powerful healing pieces. We exchanged gifts and parted ways after exploring the vintage furniture store.

#gallery-0-56 { margin: auto; } #gallery-0-56 .gallery-item { float: left; margin-top: 10px; text-align: center; width: 33%; } #gallery-0-56 img { border: 2px solid #cfcfcf; } #gallery-0-56 .gallery-caption { margin-left: 0; } /* see gallery_shortcode() in wp-includes/media.php */

Amazing Optical Etching work by Brinnin

Brinnins Work

Vence Love Shack Mural

When I arrived back at my AirBnb I quickly ran to get a shower to get ready for The Weed Show with Charlo Greene which was only a short drive into Los Angeles. Charlo invited me out a few weeks back to talk about Pregnancy and Cannabis consumption. This topic is still judged as Taboo in our culture and the mom shaming is completely unnecessary. She spoke of The CannaMama Clinic Doctor Rachel Knox who actively speaks and educates on the endocannabinoid system and how just because you become pregnant your body doesn’t stop gaining benefits from cannabinoids. You can see more with Dr Rachel here and You can see what we talked about here! Plus Indiana Jones, the studio dog kept us company between the blunts.

#gallery-0-57 { margin: auto; } #gallery-0-57 .gallery-item { float: left; margin-top: 10px; text-align: center; width: 33%; } #gallery-0-57 img { border: 2px solid #cfcfcf; } #gallery-0-57 .gallery-caption { margin-left: 0; } /* see gallery_shortcode() in wp-includes/media.php */

I am grateful for Charlo for creating such a powerful platform and being a shining light in this industry for education and empowerment for women. At the end of the show Tori the producer presented me a small gift bag with a bath bomb from Om Edibles, Uncle Dougie’s Knots, and some CBD salve made by the lunar phases from The Sisters Of The Valley, you know, the weed nuns! OMG! To top it off The Green Lodge is available to come to LA thanks to The Weed Show’s studio also being a co working space!

After the show aired Live on YouTube, Facebook, and I tunes, I headed back to Venice and was graced with one of my favorite past times, Food Truck Burritos. So delicious. This was the last night I was in town and Tuesday had even bigger surprises for me. So I soaked up that bath bomb and devoured those medicated sugared pretzels.

#gallery-0-58 { margin: auto; } #gallery-0-58 .gallery-item { float: left; margin-top: 10px; text-align: center; width: 33%; } #gallery-0-58 img { border: 2px solid #cfcfcf; } #gallery-0-58 .gallery-caption { margin-left: 0; } /* see gallery_shortcode() in wp-includes/media.php */

via abphy.com

@omedibles on IG

TUESDAY

Before I left for my trip I connected with a true soul sister who I have followed and admired for some time, the mastermind and goddess behind so many projects including The Ganja Goddess Getaway, Bliss Edibles and Extracts, but she is just such a powerful force in so may women’s lives remotely and in California. She set up a lunch date for me to meet the infamous Mama Sailene. I flipped out literally knowing I was going to meet another powerful soul sister! Merry Janes article stated,

“Sailene is the owner of westside Los Angeles’ oldest and most iconic delivery service and has long been a key figure in the Venice community. Ironically, the delivery business, now well into its second decade, never had an official name. It was just The Girls or, to some, The Angels. The lack of a name didn’t matter. Everyone who needed to knew exactly who she was.

Like most of the trailblazers of her generation, she was forced to split her focus with a second demanding (and fully legal) career. In her case, it was in restaurant management and event planning. And, although there’s no real surprise there, she was great at it.

Her most visible run was at Abbot’s Habit, the original, pre-gentrification Abbot Kinney coffee shop where the cool Venice crowd started their day. For the lucky ones, however, the real fun took place at her parties. Invitations were highly coveted, and not just for the food (incredible) or the hand-rolled joints (plentiful).”

Without speaking to Sailene prior to this trip, I did not meet her until Tuesday, I was drawn to Abbots Habit and actually wrote that part of the blog while sitting in there!!!! Whoa! I knew the energy there was special and when Mama picked me up and I told her how much I loved it, her eyes filled with tears. Reassuring that this trip has been the healing I needed.

Deus Es Machina Coffee

Sailene picked me up at Deus Es Machina and we headed Gjelina the BEST place to eat in Venice and where the likes of Beyonce, Reece Witherspoon, even Rihanna have graced. It is the swankiest and as soon as we walked in I got to meet the chef and co-owner behind it all, Travis Jett. He was delightful! Our food included appetizers of

Tuscan Kale salad, Shaved Fennel, and Ricotta Salata

Japanese Sweet Potato, Jalapeno Yogurt, and Scallions

Wood Roasted Cauliflowers:Recipe

#gallery-0-59 { margin: auto; } #gallery-0-59 .gallery-item { float: left; margin-top: 10px; text-align: center; width: 33%; } #gallery-0-59 img { border: 2px solid #cfcfcf; } #gallery-0-59 .gallery-caption { margin-left: 0; } /* see gallery_shortcode() in wp-includes/media.php */

http://antonellaaguilerand.com/blog/2017/1/13/sweet-taters-with-lime-yogurt

Mama had the Crispy Duck Comfit, Whitled Chicory, & Kumquat

photo: Gourmetcentric

While I indulged in a Gruyere, Caramelized Onion, Formage Blanc, and Arugula Pizza.

image via flicker

Of course we couldn’t leave without dessert. Warm Date Cake, Whiskey Caramel and Ginger Gelato Which I was thrilled to find the chefs own Recipe.

image via yahoonews

It got better. Gjusta is the swanky bakery also popping out delicious bites and goodies by Travis who just happened to be in the parking lot in the rain talking while we got there. There is such a warm and inviting presence surrounding Gjusta and when you walk inside it is a sweet tooth’s heaven! I had to eat at least one thing from here so I inhaled a Black Currant and Raisin Roll before parting ways with Sailene, doing a few more dabs, and catching my lyft to LAX.

photo credit http://www.localwanderer.com

Coming Home…Almost

When I arrived at LAX I was super early for my flight. Now here is where the only monkey wrench threw me into a complete panic tearful tailspin. By this time all I could think about was getting home. I missed the baby something awful and I know my sons eyes fill with a special light when he sees me. So just as I did before flying out with Southwest, I printed my boarding pass and headed to the gate. Here is where I knew something was up. Of course Frontier did not have anyone up at the podium until 10 minutes before the plane started to board and as a lot of people knew, Frontier never made you pay for your carry on if you didn’t pay for it when you bought your initial ticket. Now I have successfully flown as well as my husband, and with two children utilizing this policy that has not changed in over two years. Well they caught on apparently to the numerous people we had talked to as well who said they loved flying with Frontier for that exact reason of them not charging for a carry on.

As my zone is called to board I walk up and the lady says I need to go to the podium…I wasn’t sure why but I went and luckily I got the guy who hated his life that day and wouldn’t do his job as he was clearly not able to communicate morally with someone who just found out they wanted to charge $60 to bring my bag on. I had $25 dollars in my purse and no debit card on me. I freaked the fuck out honestly. I called my husband who was just like, “leave it.” ugh no. That was NOT an option. So I asked the man what would happen to my bag if I left it, does it go to unclaimed baggage or lost and found? His answer, “I don’t have anymore time for you.” So I smiled and said,”Thanks for being such a great help” and walked up to the boarding podium. With tears in my eyes and everything I could shove in my purse, I didn’t care I just wanted to be home at this point, I looked at the lady and said I have to leave this here because I have never had to pay to bring it on until just now. Then the girl beside me with long blonde braids chimed in, ” I’ll pay for your bag.” If I wasn’t already emotional this was the cherry on top. She hugged me and said she had been in that exact same spot and wished someone could have done the same for her.

I boarded the flight with gratitude for my what comes my way and how no matter what I somehow know, it will all work out. I landed in Denver and made my way home with the smiling faces of my family when they arrived at the airport.

This trip was truly something I wished and manifested for 2017. I know more amazing opportunities are in line because every encounter I had while in Venice + LA made me grow, made me love, and made me even more appreciative to each soul I come in contact with and with the people who constantly support and uplift me.

Thank you so much to Ashley at The Cannabiz Calendar and Stashlogix I have two awesome bags to Giveaway TO YOU!!!

All you have to do is get 5 people (21+ over only) to sign up for any FUTURE GREEN LODGE GATHERINGS by requesting a ticket here + Subscribe to The Cannabiz Calendar OR post a picture on social media of: Why You Need A Stashlogix Bag! Show us how you carry everything and we will gift you a highly coveted bag. We will be expanding this year and we need YOUR help!

So spread the Word! Gveaway Ends 4.20.16 and winner will be announced 4.24 at The Green Lodge Goddess Gathering April!

Check out this gallery of all the photos from the trip!

This slideshow requires JavaScript.

Los Angeles + Venice: Where Love and Weed Rein Supreme Was it the 3 am alarm or the 1 am bedtime that left me more than surprisingly blissful for my trip to Los Angeles?

0 notes