Three months. Three months she survived a world that she never believed existed. Three months she survived away from Drake as he and a few others had a small manhunt for her. Three months she learned what the world really held out to her, and in those three months, after the group accepted her and had her help them, she had found so much more, including love.
Each one of them had a special place in her heart. The girls having days with her, shopping and dining for fun, laughing at anything that came to mind. The Nordic brothers all settling down as they recited old Norse tales with one another, telling her of the lores and beliefs. Allen and James giving sweet stories of their years being raised by Oliver and Francois, even Marie and Giselle joining them when the Frenchman came up. Lutz and Gillen sparring as Kuro and Xiao critiqued then. Viktor showing her his language and how each language derived from each other or even had basic similarities. But Oliver stood on top of it all.
His happy smile, those sweet blue eyes, the gentle touch that came to her, his berry dessert scent filling her, and his kiss. God his kiss, how it sent electric chills through her body every time he did. He just marveled her. And yet, made her mind grow curious of what else there was that was hidden on him. She had gotten braver in asking him questions and wondering of everything that she thought she knew. Laws and history, different sciences and literature, anything English, as he would say to her.
So, there she was in his bedroom, digging in the closet for more hidden books that he stashed away. She was determined to learn what she could until something shiny caught her eye. She paused, awed by the little detailed button on the red coat.
"Strange, what's this?" she pulled on it lightly, seeing more of the intricate gold buttons and cords.
"Poppet? Where are you hiding now? I have the cakes ready for you to - Oh! Heather, what are you doing?"
Spinning around, she saw Oliver in the doorway, looking at her in wonder, "Sorry Ollie, I was in search of that book you were talking about earlier and I stumbled across this."
Oliver came to her side, glancing within the closet just to smile, "Well, you found my uniform."
"Uniform?"
"Yes, my Royal Guard uniform from years ago. I forgot I placed it in here."
Heather gawked at him, "Wait, you were in the military?"
He grinned, "Of course, does this face not look like it served for his royal majesty at one point?"
"Hate to be harsh, but no." she replied.
"Ouch!" he gave her his famed hurt tone, "That was mean."
"It was honest."
"And I got all those cakes and cookies ready for you and this is how you treat me."
She laughed, "Fine alright. But I'll believe it better if I see you in it. The blue and pink don't scream soldier to me."
"Make that delicious strawberry banana frosting and I will."
Giving him a nod, Heather made her way back into the kitchen, the sweets in question cooling on the shelf as she began the old recipe for the frosting he ever so desired. She worked diligently and quietly, all along as her mind portrayed her images of him. Everything from the mornings with their mugs, days working within the shop, listening to the newest information on AlphaCom and the boys' findings, to even their late night discussions as they sat within the little library, speaking about whatever came to mind. She was, well, smitten with the man as hard as it was to believe.
The Mad Baker. She was smitten with the Mad Baker, of all people. Yet it seemed just right to her. He fit her world perfectly in her mind and she knew she fit his, heard it enough from James and Allen when they would pick and pester Oliver at the table, and it seemed to never bother him, just make his cheeks dust a gentle pink.
Whipping the last bit together and checking consistency and taste, she piped out the frosting onto the cakes, making little flowers and shapes for the new items in plan. She hoped that it would suit him and make the shop a little brighter with customers.
"Alright then, what do you think?" she heard Oliver say from the door.
Glancing over, she felt her breath hitch in her throat, causing a cough to erupt from her. She tried to gather herself, placing down the piping bag, as her mind whirled around the sight she just gained.
"Well, I hope that's a good reaction." Oliver stated.
Heather looked back at him, shocked and awed beyond belief. There he stood in the red and black uniform, sharp and pristine on him. The buttons gleaming in honor as the cords gently laid across his chest along with his medals, his features were the same as always yet in the uniform, he was much more. And she slowly began to realize her real thoughts for him.
"It is." she finally got out, "I just wasn't expecting it."
His eyes seemed to narrow, glancing at her just to widen in worry, "Am I bothering you like this? Are you afraid of me in some way in it?"
"No!" she nearly shouted, "Far from it! I mean, I'm a little bothered but not the bad one."
The sly cheshire grin graced his face, "Oh, so I'm bothering you."
She watched as he came closer, eyes giving a slight spark of interest and tease. She grabbed the frosting knife, still layered with her famed topping, "You be good or you'll wear this."
His steps didn't pause, he inched closer to her, the look of play written on him as he finally stood fully in front of her, "Well then, why don't you answer me a very interesting question before trying to splatter that on me."
Heather nodded, "Alright, what is it?"
"What is it about a man in uniform that makes a woman's blood run hot and needy?" he practically purred in her ear.
A small shiver ran down her spine, making her body heat up with the question. Hell, how could she answer such a thing when she wasn't sure herself? She glanced at him again, every fiber of his uniform tight and neat, as if he was ready to serve the royal families just for the thoughts to finally hit her.
"Well, what comes to me, is how handsome you are in it. You look mature, defined, strong...safe even. It's almost like a feel-good thing."
He narrowed his glare at her, "So this is a good thing then, what you are seeing before you?"
"Duh."
"Well, then, guess I have to wear this around when I want things done." he said taking a tiny bit of her frosting and dotting her nose with it.
"You did not?!" she exclaimed, taking the spatula like knife to his face, "Two can play that!"
Oliver tried to evade her, grabbing onto her wrists, yet she prevailed. A long mess of the frosting coated the side of his face as he stared at her in awe, "You cheeky thing, you!"
Within minutes, the two of them were battling it out with the frosting and utensils, laughing and carrying on. Heather felt giddy with him as she nailed him again, striking his forehead and making his hair stand up. In truth, she hadn't been that happy for as long as she could remember. There was no pain, no drugs, no beatings or forcing; just her and Oliver.
Suddenly, Oliver pinned her hands above her head as he pushed her into the wall, "Now then, I finally have you."
"Do you now, Captain of pink and yellow frosting?"
He smiled at her, "Yes I do. And I know how to make you surrender to my authority."
She raised her brow at him, "Well, do tell."
Before she could say anymore, his lips crashed into hers, sending her into a world of pleasurable bliss. She felt herself relax against him, melting into what he was giving her as the world slowly disappeared around them. How she loved it when he kissed her. There really was nothing else but them. She tried to pull her hands away, arching her back and pressing into him just so she could wrap her arms around him. He finally gave her what she wanted, wrapping his own around her torso, her arms circling around his neck, pulling him closer to her.
Suddenly, he pulled away, "Sorry poppet, don't want to get too carried away."
She gave a begrudging groan, watching him head to the stairs, "You tease."
"Now now, don't be that way." he smiled at her, "Besides, I'm cleaning my uniform and self as you clean this area that you made."
She grabbed a dollop of frosting, whipping at him just for it to splatter against the wall, "You helped it!"
"Sorry can't hear you." he sang going up the stairs.
Heather sighed as she heard the door close, giving in to cleaning the place quickly and wiping the frosting off of herself. She thought about what she had gained so far, weighing the pros and cons, yet every time she did, he came to her mind. That wicked cheshire grin, those dazzling eyes, the messy hair, his lean body to even his kiss. There was nothing that could possibly make him better. Yet her mind wandered. Taking a stroll within her fantasies of him, the very ones she read within his library, ones that she wasn't sure he would ever give her.
Glancing over the kitchen once more, she went against her better judgment and went upstairs, curious as to what she would find. Her stomach flipped here and there, tossing her past with present with the actions in mind. She knew it was risky to ask, never knowing what could open his darker half up, yet it was just this one time.
His room was open, the bathroom light illuminating the space before her but no sign of Oliver. The uniform laid upon the dresser, neat and clean, ready to be placed back in its home. Her hand touched the buttons, feeling their cool details as she pressed her fingers to the red cloth, the soft texture almost matching his own. Heather shook her head, she had to think of other things, not what he would be like naked before her.
"Heather, what are you doing?"
She turned around to just gawk at him. He stood there, towel tight to his waist, eyes curious as to her actions and being within the room, "You alright?"
"Yea." she squeaked out, "I'm ok."
"You sure?" he approached her lightly.
All she could do was nod at him, the ability to speak long gone as she looked him over. His chest was as defined as his abs, soft yet there, as his light skin was dusted with freckles. He was so much more than she thought he'd be, and her body was reacting harder to him.
"I don't believe you." he said, standing before her, "Are you positive? What's going on in that head of yours?"
She tried to swallow past the lump in her throat as fear and desire swam in an intriguing dance just to finally blurt out her thoughts, "I don't really know what I'm feeling, it's new but I like it."
His eyes widened, "Oh, how so?"
"Like..well...I'm not sure...but..." she stumbled over her words, "I want to be with you."
Oliver chuckled lightly, "Well, wouldn't you call what we have being-"
"I mean more than that."
He paused, glancing her over as the familiar pink swirls danced in his sweet blues, "Are you sure you know what you're asking, Heather?"
She finally closed the distance, pressing her hand over his bare chest, feeling his heart race beneath her hand, "Positive. Show me what it's really meant to be like, Ollie."
Suddenly she was pulled against his chest as his lips molded to hers in a feverish kiss. Strength and determination was what came to mind as he hoisted her against him and she was loving every second of it, even as he tossed her on the bed. Something about him was primal yet reserved, his eyes going into that sweet dusk color she constantly wanted to see. He pressed himself against her, his hands caressing her sides as he kissed her again, his tongue tasting her as she did the same.
It was odd, feeling him so loving yet passionate. His mouth traveled down, kissing the small hollow under her ear just to go along the column of her neck, nipping and kissing her collar bone from side to side. Heather was in euphoria, amazed how her body felt and how he was making it so. Within seconds, her shirt was removed from her, tossed aside as he traveled down to her hidden breasts, making her arch below him.
"Now poppet," he smiled down at her, "Good girls get rewarded when they play nice. Doing that is naughty."
Heather gave a playful bite to his bottom lip, "And if I don't?"
Oliver's eyes narrowed as he grinned, "Then I leave."
Now that wasn't fair, "You wouldn't?"
"Suit yourself." he said leaving her body to the cool air.
"No, wait, Ollie!" she cried out, reaching out for him.
That shit-eating grin was plastered on his face, "See? Now be good as I get you ready."
Her pants were pulled from her, leaving her almost bare to him. She thought of her scars and the marks that covered her from them and the life she lived before, but before she could even attempt to cover herself, his hands entangled with her own, making her look up at him.
"I know what you were thinking, and I don't mind your scars." he kissed her, "It just shows how strong of a woman you really are."
Heather relaxed against him, knowing his words were true with his gaze over her. Slowly, he moved down her body, caressing and gently kissing any mark or scar he came across, showing her a deeper version of love than she thought possible. He removed the binding piece, hiding her away from him just for the cool air to harden her buds. He hovered over her breasts, his hot breath gently wavering over them only for his lips to enclose around one and his hand cup the other. Her head fell against the mattress, awed by the feeling of him tasting and teasing her, moving back and forth from the mounds only to venture farther down.
Within seconds, her panties were gone, having her completely bare before him. She saw as he looked over her, taking every detail that he could of her. His fingers lightly danced over her thighs, leaving little flames run through her veins and making her core grow hotter. He seemed fixated on her lower half, knowing the scarring was deeper there. She worried that there was something wrong with her, that everything they worked up to that point was for naught but all she gained from him was a pained sigh.
"How could they hurt such a beautiful thing as yourself?" he rubbed her legs.
Beautiful? Her? No, never would she have thought that, but under him and seeing his reaction, she started to feel like so. She wanted to say something yet nothing came, no words or thoughts, and it truly died when he went to kiss her hips. His fingers kneaded her inner thighs as he kissed closer and closer to her wanting core. She felt a shiver roll through her body, unsure of what to expect from him now.
"No worries, just making this better." he said, finally having his tongue lap up her slit.
A mix of a gasp and moan left her, repeating itself as he latched his mouth over her, drinking in what she was just to feel a lithe finger slide within her. Another joined, pulling a deeper hum from her body, his fingers curling within her as he teased the sensitive nub unmercifully. She felt her belly tighten, heat pooling to her core as he played with her, bringing a bliss that she didn't want to escape from. And she didn't. Cold air met her body, shaking her senses alive as she reached out for him.
"Told you I was making it better." he said leaning above her, "I'm not a rough person. Well, unless asked. But I'm not doing that to you, you lived that world long enough."
She felt the head of him, sitting patiently before her. Heather looked at him, almost pleading for him to give her that final piece. With gentle ease, he sheathed himself within her, having her adjust to him and fall into the world that was being loved. She was lucky to remember her name or even breath as she felt him within, filling her in ways she never believed possible without pain.
"I'm going to shower you in love that you truly deserve, Heather."
Slow and gentle. That's all he gave, each push and pull to her body came a delicious sensation that she never wanted to escape. He felt whole, perfect, loving. So much that she couldn't even think of any better term for him. He kept the pace, kissing her neck and cheeks, whispering everything he enjoyed about her in her ear. Her arms wrapped around him, one hand burying itself in those rich tangles of red while the other gripped onto his back, feeling the muscle flex under her fingertips as his speed began to grow.
He wrapped his hand around her one knee, pressing it against his waist and lifting it slightly, causing a whole new ripple to claim her body and mind.
"My god Oliver!" she called out.
"Feels good?" he panted against her.
"Yes," she moaned out between breaths, "Please, again, just like it."
He didn't deny her. He drove into her, harder and faster, angling her body to find new spots to make her mind go crazy with him. Her fingers dug into his hair and back, no doubt leaving marks or even bleeding, yet she was so far in she couldn't notice. Pants and moans filled the room, skin on skin, the bed slightly creaking with the force he was delivering to her.
"Oliver!" she clawed at his back, feeling the heat pool deeper within her, no doubt her end coming too soon.
"Almost, Heather, almost." his hips grew slightly sporadic.
She tried to hang on, tried so hard yet when he angled her hips one last time, she snapped. Wave after wave of heat and bliss left her, her breath caught in her throat as she pressed her head farther into the bed, her fingers racking down his back. With two more thrusts, he joined her in the spiral of pleasure, twitching within as he gasped against her breasts.
Dear god, what it always like that for people? She felt her body come back to her, small shivers claiming her body as Oliver raised himself off of her. She glanced up at him, seeing him glance down at her, pleasure and happiness written on his face.
"Guess you liked that?" he smiled at her.
"You haven't the foggiest." she sighed, "That was amazing. I missed so much out there."
Oliver nodded, "You did yet, as I should be honest, do have tendencies to get a little rough."
"But not like what I've had."
He pulled away from her body, gathering her in his arms, "True. So that makes me better."
She laid her head on his chest, hearing the gentle thrum of his heartbeat, "Yes, and I love you with all of it."
"What?"
Heather paused, noticing what she said to him. Dear lord, she said she loved him, never in all her life did she even mutter it after being sold and sent away yet there she blurted out to him without a care. Gentle fingers cupped her chin, making her look at him.
"What was that, poppet?"
She swallowed down her worry, "I love you, Oliver."
Pure joy radiated off of him as he pulled her closer to him, "I love you too, Heather."
She could've cried right then, hearing such simple words. Yet from him, it was everything to her. Relaxing against him, her mind went back to their actions just moments ago to the day he found her. And with it all, those little words meant the entire world to her.
Gentle breathing came to him, feeling Heather relax and fall into a deep, well needed slumber. He brushed aside those copper locks, awed how innocent she was as she slept against him. She loved him. Happy day, she loved him. He felt giddy as ever hearing her in his head, speaking those amazing words to him. He felt at peace, whole even when she was next to him. No true desire to kill or torture unless someone messed with her. He just felt perfect.
As quiet as possible, he moved from her, watching as she curled into his pillow and drift farther into sleep. He was too full of it now to just lay in bed. He wanted to dance and sing and celebrate what had happened, and what better way was there than baking.
Donning on his comfortable clothes, he made his way downstairs, seeing how she cleaned the space up after their little play, picking up the spatula knife, "How messing around with frosting lead to that. Who would've thought."
"What have you done?"
Oliver grabbed the long knife from the block, aimed at the voice that came from behind. Dark wine and cigarettes claimed his nose as he found the man glaring at him, "Good gracious, Francois, do you have-"
"Yes, I do."
Something seemed off with the man, more so than before, "What's going on?"
Francois looked up at the ceiling and then to him, "Shouldn't I ask the same?"
"What are you talking about? There wasn't-"
"Bullshit!" he gritted out behind clenched teeth.
"I will forgo the jar for now just because this seems serious."
"You are too involved with her."
Oh, now he was back at that again, "Please, I'm nowhere near-"
"You just fucked her." Francois shot at him, "No wait, let me rephrase that. Fucking would have had more screaming and pain. You, you loved on her. Made love to her."
Now he was getting angry, "And your point?"
"Stop this now. Get your dick out of gear and get rid of her."
"You know, I'm starting to wonder if you're-"
"Jealous. Far from it." Francois lit another stick, "Yet you are too far in. You haven't thought anything through?"
"How so?"
"Does she know what you are?"
Oliver chuckled, "My friend, everyone knows the Mad Baker."
"That's not what I meant. Does she know of the other?"
Suddenly he knew what the Frenchman was aiming for, "What does that-"
"She's a mortal. She will die one day unlike you. You are immortal, a personification at that." Francois slammed his fists down on the table, "There will come a day that she will either learn of this and run or be killed by the knowledge of it. And I don't just mean her dying by age or human disease."
Oliver tried to speak, to defend the two of them and prove that he was wrong, yet the more he thought of it, Francois was right. The moment AlphaCom or any leader got wind that she was alive and with them, they would do countless things to her that even an immortal would wish for death.
"Like I said, Oliver, stop this before it's too late." and then, he was gone.
Oliver stood there, unmoved and unsure of what to do or say to anyone. His mind battled over the thoughts of Heather yet the reasoning of Francois and both of them were driving him insane. He launched the knife into the wall, knowing all too well what would happen or even needed to have happen. Yet it broke him more and more. And now, he was possibly going to have to break her heart as well.
