#Childrens Horse Riding Lessons Near Me

[londonbelow]

American Honey

in which Harry is a single dad/rancher and our faceless/nameless female MC babysits for him while he goes on a date warnings: age gap (both parties are consenting adults over the age of 21), a hint of choking, unprotected sex, dirty talk, squirting, nothing too kinky... this is literal shit im sorry ily anyways

I didn’t know how I got roped into babysitting for the man I was completely in love with, but here I was, pulling into his long gravel driveway on a beautiful September day. If you asked me a few months ago how much I enjoyed children, I would have laughed in your face and told you that I didn’t enjoy them at all and that you couldn’t pay me to spend time with them. 

That was until I met Harry. 

My best friend Kelsey was his niece. She introduced me when she began to take horseback riding lessons on his ranch shortly after he moved back to town. He wanted to be closer to his family after his wife had passed away, so he packed up his life and moved back to his hometown. 

The first time I saw him, his strong body mounted on top of a large brown horse, my breath got caught in my throat and wouldn’t dislodge the entire time I watched him ride. That day, most days, he wore a ratty old t-shirt that clung to his muscles and a pair of dirty brown cowboy boots under his tight jeans. He traded off between a black cowboy hat and a backwards baseball cap, one that boasted some sports team I had no idea about. Tattoos littered his strong arms and I knew they spread across his torso as well from all the times I drooled over him as he did manual labor around his ranch. 

He had a six year old daughter named Maisy that looked just like him, one who worshipped the ground he walked on. She followed him around like a baby duckling, excitedly showing him things he couldn’t possibly care much about, but he always reacted in a way that told her he did. It was endearing, watching him smile brightly at a large spider his small daughter caught and decided to name Annabelle. He shivered and grimaced as soon as his back was turned to his child, never letting her know that her affinity for bugs grossed him out. 

He was an angel with her. So patient and kind and goofy. Watching them together made me ache for something that I didn’t know I even wanted—a family. I was far too young to be thinking that way, of course, but it didn’t stop my heart from compressing every time I watched him hoist her up onto her pony to go for a ride. 

He was all rough around the edges but a gentleman nonetheless. The first time he met me, he removed his hat and bowed his head a little and called me honey in his luxurious sounding accent. He’d been calling me by that ever since then, claiming it was because I was “sweet as”. He didn’t call anyone else that I knew at the ranch by any sort of nickname, not even the pretty brunette veterinarian who came to tend to the animals. 

He asked me if I was interested in riding lessons and I lied immediately and said yes, absolutely. I was terrified of horses, actually, but I would have done anything he asked of me, as long as I could stare at him while doing it.

He was around 20 years my senior, not that he looked it. He had little crinkles near his eyes and smile lines from years of laughter. His skin was tanned and freckled from the sun, his arm and thigh muscles bulging from all of the physical labor he did. I knew I had daddy issues, but I had never been attracted to an actual dad until Harry. 

I had spent the last two months taking riding lessons with him, keeping my crush as lowkey as I possibly could, although every time his hands brushed my hips or my leg when he was helping me on and off the horses, I felt like I could just melt. 

We grew comfortable with each other and there were times when I thought he may be flirting with me, but it never went anywhere. I started to think I was delusional, that there was no real tension between us like I thought there was. Especially when he asked me in the shyest of tones if I would babysit his daughter for him while he went on a date. 

So here I was, huffing and puffing in annoyance as I sat in the driveway of his home, angry with him for dating someone else and angry with myself for agreeing to babysit so he could. I felt like an idiot. I enjoyed hanging out with his kid because she was a little weirdo like I was at her age, but I didn’t enjoy knowing he’d be out with some lonely housewife throwing herself at him. 

I let out a loud whine as I banged my head against the steering wheel a couple of times, letting my theatrics empty from my body before I sat up straight and composed myself. 

“Get a grip, he wouldn’t touch you anyways. You’re 25 years old. He’s your best friend’s uncle. Of course he wants someone his age, you’re basically a fucking child in his eyes.” I muttered to myself as I reached over for my bag and lugged it out of the car with me. 

It was filled with things I thought Maisy might enjoy, like my black lipstick and some Halloween decorations I had packed away. The child lived for all things horror, she treated every day as if it was Halloween and nothing scared her. It was one of the reasons I completely adored her, despite never liking most children. 

I looked down at my outfit as I made my way to the front door. I didn’t know how late I’d be stuck here, so I dressed comfortably, in little black shorts and a loose crop top. Slinging my bag over my shoulder, I reached up to press the doorbell when the door flung open. 

My breath got caught again at the sight of him. His cheeks flushed red as he looked at me, a slow smile tugging on his mouth as he reached out to grab hold of my arm. 

“Hi, thank god you’re here, I need your help.” Harry tugged me into the house quickly. 

His hand on my skin sent goosebumps all over me. He pulled me with him through the corridor and the kitchen, toward his large bedroom. I felt a thrill run through me at his urgency to get me in there, but it settled as I remembered quickly that he wasn’t dragging me there to ravage me like I wanted him to. 

My eyes took him in as he pulled me behind him. He had on his usual jeans and a t-shirt, his usually unruly curls set into a more tame hairstyle. He hadn’t shaved, which I was grateful for, but he smelled fresh and clean and looked like he might be sick at any moment. 

He pulled me to where he had three different outfits laid out on his bed, gesturing to them and then looking at me helplessly. 

“Mr. Styles, I—” 

“Harry, darlin’. I told you to call me Harry.” He corrected me, his hand sliding down my arm, making my stomach flip around, “Now… which one?” 

“Where are you taking her?” I asked, reaching out to touch the fabric on one pair of pants. 

“The Lodge?” He said, sounding as if he were unsure. 

I made a face, impressed with his expensive selection but annoyed that it was going to another woman. He took my reaction the wrong way, assuming that I thought it was a bad choice for a first date. He put his head in his hands and groaned loudly. 

“It’s too much, isn’t it?” He breathed out, “I should just cancel. I don’t know what I was thinking. I’m not ready for this.” 

“Woah, hold on, I didn’t say that. It’s a nice restaurant. If you really like this girl…” I trailed off, swallowing hard over the lump in my throat. I looked down at the outfits he selected and smiled at his effort. I touched the edge of one of the more casual ones, “D-do you? Really like her?” 

“Well, I… like her. I don’t know if it’s worth a ‘really’ yet.” He smirked, shrugging his shoulders. 

“Wear this one. You’ll look great.” I pointed to the outfit. 

“Yeah?” He breathed out, moving closer to me so he could reach down to touch it as well, “You think?” 

His arm brushed against mine as we stood next to one another, looking down at my selection. I felt like I couldn’t breathe every time he touched me, even if it was accidental. I reached over and squeezed his arm, feeling my stomach clench up again when I did. This man did something feral to me. I wanted to get naked and display myself for the taking. I wanted him to take and take and take. 

“She’s a lucky lady.” I loosened my grip, letting my fingers brush down the length of his arm gently. 

He turned to look down at me, so close that I could feel his breathing against my forehead. He was much taller than I was, so much so that I had to crane my head back to look up at him. I saw his eyes slide down over my frame, so quickly and discreet that I almost missed it. He averted his gaze back to the clothes on the bed, nodding. 

“Thanks, honey. I should, uh… I should finish getting ready. Don’t want to be late, do I?” He reached up and scratched the back of his head, “Maisy’s in the living room watching the Addams Family again.” 

“Of course she is.” I laughed, moving to his door, “Hey, if she tells me you said it’s okay for her to watch Halloween, she’s lying right?” 

“She’s absolutely lying.” He scoffed, rolling his eyes with a smile, “Nothing above PG-13.” 

“She’s six years old.” I stated dryly, watching him smile brighter as he reached for the bottom of his shirt. 

“Try telling that to her.” He joked, peeling his t-shirt off right in front of me. I felt saliva gather in my mouth at the sight of his tattooed torso, his muscles flexing as he moved. 

I stood there like an idiot, just staring with my lips parted, feeling as if I might start drooling any second. He looked at me, an amused expression on his face, lifting his eyebrows. 

“You okay, sweetheart?” He asked. I reached up immediately and touched my mouth, forcing my lips closed and checking for drool at the same time. 

“Yep, sorry. I’ll give you some… privacy.” I cleared my throat, feeling my cheeks heat up as I forced myself to leave his room, yanking the door shut behind me. 

I leaned against it and sighed heavily, composing myself before I went out to the living room where Maisy lounged. 

“Hey scream queen, you watching the Addams Family again?” I plopped down onto the couch, looking over at her. 

She was spitting image of Harry. Really, if I hadn’t seen photos of her late mother I would think he cloned her to look exactly like him. She had the same soft brunette curls, the same green eyes that looked blue in certain light, the same pouty pink lips and the same little accent as him. The only difference was the streak of temporary purple dye in her hair, which I put in for her a week ago. 

“Yep! When daddy leaves, do you wanna watch Halloween?” She whispered the question to me, smiling slowly like the little evil thing she was. 

“I will not be held responsible for your nightmares tonight, little one.” I reached over and brushed her hair out of her face. 

“Please, please, please.” She begged, grabbing onto my face with her tiny hands, squishing my cheeks together, “I won’t tell him, I swear! You’re my favorite babysitter ever, nobody else is as fun as you are.” 

I narrowed my eyes at her buttering me up, “You are good.” 

“I know.” She giggled loudly as I began to tickle her sides, watching her fall back against the couch cushions and squeal with delight.  

I didn’t notice Harry walk over to the living room at first. He just stood there, silently, watching me tickle his daughter with a smile on his face. I stopped when I finally noticed him, wondering how long he had been watching us. He seemed perfectly content to stay right there, his eyes steady on me and his daughter. 

He lifted his eyebrows and pushed himself off the door frame when he realized I had noticed him. 

His cheeks went slightly pink, “Alright, girls. How do I look?” 

We both watched him as he did a slow spin, showing off his outfit. I felt my heartbeat quicken at the sight of him. He looked incredible—wearing tight black slacks with a matching button-up shirt under a suit jacket. He left a lot of the buttons undone, showing off his chest where his shiny crucifix necklace was teasing me. I could have gotten down on my knees right then to pray. 

His eyes darkened slightly when they took in my reaction to him, so much so that I swore he could read the arousal I felt all over my stupid face. I swallowed hard, averting my gaze from him as my cheeks went up in flames. 

“You look nice, daddy!” Maisy said, rushing over to him and into his arms. He picked her up into his arms and gave her a toss into the air that made my heart stop for a second, but he caught her with ease and she screamed happily. 

Harry grinned at her, leaning down to rub his nose across hers, giving her their special bunny kisses. It was the cutest thing I’d ever seen. 

“You smell good, too!” She said, wiggling out of his arms and back down to the ground, “Will Miss Casey smell you tonight?” 

I almost laughed, but the reminder that Harry was going on a date with the local kindergarten teacher—a beautiful 30-something year old who was fantastic with children—made my heart drop into my stomach.

“I’m sure she will at some point.” Harry said in a bashful tone, reaching up to nervously scratch the back of his head. 

Maisy called my name, running back over to me and grabbing my hand, dragging me to her father, “Smell daddy!” 

“Uh, Maisy, I don’t think…” I started, but Harry smiled and shook his head to stop me. 

“I’d actually like to hear if you think it’s too much. I don’t wear cologne very often, only on special occasions.” He said sheepishly, “Do you mind?” 

Special occasions, like the date he was about to go on. My heart made another leap into my stomach, making me frown. 

“No, I… I don’t mind.” I said breathlessly, forcing a smile and stepping closer to him. 

I placed my hand against his shoulder even though I didn’t have to and then I leaned in close to him. I shut my eyes as I inhaled his scent, trying to force the moan down my throat. It came out as a soft “mmm” instead. 

He smelled delicious. Just the perfect amount of spicy and sweet mixed in with his natural musky scent that was so familiar to me after all the time we’d spent together. I wanted to nuzzle my face into his neck and inhale it again but instead I forced myself back from him, nodding like a crazy person. 

“She’ll love it.” I said quietly, watching his soft eyes follow me as I stepped backwards, my hand reaching out to take Maisy’s, trying to anchor myself back down to earth. She squeezed my hand tightly once before letting it go and running back to her movie. 

“K, bye daddy!” She called out, once again glued to the TV screen as Wednesday Addams tortured her brother for fun. 

I walked Harry to the door, my eyes scanning over him as much as I could before he took notice. I wanted to tell him not to go, to stay here with us instead. I wanted him to see how badly I ached for him and to take me up on the offer. I knew the idea was a complete delusion, I knew that he could never see me that way, but I couldn’t help my fantasies. 

He turned to face me at the front door, tapping his fingers gently against the edge of it as we looked at one another. There was so much staring between us, it felt like longing. He’d drape his slow gaze over me, not saying a word, making me tingle all over. 

“Okay, um, call me if you need anything. I shouldn’t be out too late. You know her bedtime routine…” He trailed off, patting his pockets to ensure he had his phone and his wallet, “Are you… are you sure I shouldn’t cancel? Stay here with you and Maze and watch Halloween movies instead?” 

Yes. Cancel. Forget her and stay with me, please. Please. My throat felt like it was closing up at my thoughts, too scared to say them out loud. I shook my head to him, forcing a smile.

“You need to go. Put yourself out there. You deserve to be happy, Harry.” I said to him, reaching up and patting his shoulder. I let my hand linger there for a long moment, just rubbing him in what I hoped was a comforting manner and not creepy. 

He reached up and put his hand on top of my own, squeezing it gently as he looked at me in a way that I hadn’t seen before. I felt like I couldn’t breathe as he pulled my hand from his shoulder, his fingers tightening around my own just for a moment before he dropped it. I clenched it into a fist, desperate to hold onto the feeling of his skin on mine. 

“You are something else, honey.” He said quietly, shaking his head slightly, “Thanks again for watching Maze, you know how much she loves you.” 

“Anytime.” I murmured, smiling, “Have fun tonight. Call if you’re going to be late, okay?” 

He smiled and nodded, taking another long moment to look me over. He flipped his car keys in his hand and let out a loud sigh before he turned away from me for good. I watched him leave, waving from the door as he backed out of the driveway, heading off to the last place I wanted him to go. 

I sighed heavily and locked the door, heading back to Maisy, who was digging through my bag greedily, giggling in delight at every new treasure she found. 

“I see you found my bag of goodies.” I said to her with a grin. 

“Are these for me?!” She squealed and I laughed, nodding as she pulled out a big stuffed bat that I picked up from Target. 

“They are, you little sneak. You could have waited for me to give them to you myself.” I laughed as I sat down behind her. 

“So…” Maisy climbed up to my lap, smiling, “Halloween?” 

I sighed and smiled, “You can’t watch that movie, Maisy.” 

“I’ve already watched it!” She whined. 

“How about Casper instead?” I suggested. 

She made a face, offended, “That wimpy ghost?” 

I laughed loudly, breathing out a sigh, “Okay, fine. But you’re covering your eyes for the bad parts.” 

Maisy rushed off my lap, clapping her hands in delight and jumping up and down next to me, “Can we have popcorn too? Can I have juice? Can I have candy?” 

“You are an absolute terror.” I grabbed her shoulders to stop her from jumping, listening to her laughter. I scooped her up and carried her to the kitchen anyway, unable to say no to her. 

“How about we make my famous brownies? That way your dad has something sweet to eat when he gets home.” I suggested to her as she climbed up onto one of the bar stools, starting to pull out all of the ingredients I needed. 

“Daddy doesn't need sweets when you’re around, on a count of you being honey and all.” She asked me, kicking her feet out over and over again as her eyes carefully watched me. 

“Oh? Is that so?” I laughed, raising my eyebrows. 

“I heard him talkin’ to Mr. Davis about it!” She nodded confidently, smiling at me at her knowledge of her fathers private conversations. 

Mr. Davis was Harry’s closest friend and one of the ranch hands. They were always shit talking and shooting the breeze whenever they had free time. I had no idea that Harry mentioned me at all to him and I couldn’t help but probe Maisy for further information. 

“And what exactly did your daddy say to Mr. Davis?” I narrowed my eyes, pulling different ingredients out of the fridge and placing them on the countertop. 

“He said that he bets you taste just like honey, sweet as can be. He told Mr. Davis that he’d love to try it some time.” She squinted, “Do you have lots of bees at your house? Can I come see them?” 

I had to force my laughter down at her misunderstanding of what her daddy meant. I felt my face heat up at the confirmation that Harry thought about me in the same way that I thought about him. I had to press my hand against my chest to try and calm my breathing before I turned to face the little girl who was talking to me. 

“I do have lots of bees, but you better watch out, because they’ll sting you!” I turned and poked at her sides, tickling them and sending her on a laughter frenzy. 

“Now, back to business. We need a mixing bowl…” 

Maisy and I spent the rest of the night baking brownies and decorating them for her father. Then she ate way too many of them and passed out from a sugar crash about five minutes into Halloween. I carried her into her bedroom and tucked her in, starting to clean up the living room and the kitchen. 

It was still early when I finished up in the kitchen and I flicked the lights off, figuring I’d settle into the dark living room to finish watching Halloween by myself. I curled up onto the couch and shut all the lights off, stretching my body out.

I couldn’t stop thinking about what Maisy told me, her little innocent mind not even realizing that Harry was talking about going down on me. I wondered if she heard him right or if I’d make a fool of myself by making a move the next time I saw him. 

I must have dozed off thinking about it, because the next thing I knew, I heard Harry’s key in the door and listened as he quietly shut it behind him. His gentle footsteps made their way into the living room and I barely opened my eyes to look at him. 

He stood by the entryway, staring at me, his eyes roaming over my body carefully. My breath got caught when I realized he was checking me out. He took his time, drinking in the outline of my body in a greedy manner. He ran a hand through his hair and started toward me, looking more and more full of want as he got closer. 

My eyes fluttered open as he pulled a blanket off the couch, intending to cover me up with it and leave me. I wasn’t ready for him to leave, I wanted to spend more time with him, so I made it known that I was up. I reached over and touched his hip, watching him pull back to look down at my face. 

“Hey…” I said sleepily, stretching my body out, a quiet moan releasing from my throat. 

Harry swallowed harshly at the sound, shifting on his feet, “Hey, sweetheart. You must have dozed off.” 

“Yeah, sorry.” I sat up slowly, once again stretching my limbs out before I stood up from the couch, “How was your date?” 

We were standing insanely close to one another, so much so that my chest nearly brushed over his own. I leaned forward so that my breasts would touch him, just barely, and he didn’t move back from me like I thought he would. 

“Horrible.” He whispered, shaking his head.

“Oh no, I’m sorry. How about I make you a drink and you can tell me all about it?” I offered him, watching him smirk at me. 

“Are you even old enough to drink?” He teased me, to which I gave him a playful shove against his chest. 

“Very funny. I’m not that young.” I said to him sternly, raising my eyebrows, “I’m old enough to do a lot of things. Things you couldn’t possibly imagine.” 

I watched his eyebrows hitch high on his forehead at that and then I smirked at him. I turned and walked out of the living room with that, knowing that he was watching me go, his eyes steady on my ass as it jiggled into the kitchen. I went to his bar, which was a locked cabinet, getting up onto the tips of my toes to try and reach the key that he kept hidden high up. 

I knew my shirt was rising up as I reached, exposing the underside of my breasts, and I swore I heard a small groan from Harry as he watched me.

“Harry? Can you help me?” I said softly, turning to look at him over my shoulder as I continued to try and reach the key. I knew I had no chance of getting it, but I also wanted him closer to me.

He obliged like I hoped he would. He came up behind me, his body pressing against mine too closely for it to be a mistake or a casual thing. He raised his arm to take the key down and I turned my head to look at him as he did this. Our faces were so close, if I moved just a few inches forward, I could kiss him. He could kiss me. I silently willed him to do it, but he didn’t. 

He just watched me, his eyes more intense than I’d ever seen them. He studied my features, moving slow as he handed me the key. Our fingers brushed lightly as he passed it to me, his hand so warm against my own. 

“Thank you.” I whispered, watching his eyes fall to my lips as they formed the words. 

He cleared his throat and backed away from me slightly, but not enough that I wouldn’t bump into him when I bent over to dig around in the liquor cabinet. 

“So tell me… what went wrong on the date?” I asked, carefully turning to bend over, my ass brushing over the front of his pants just barely when I did. 

I swore I heard him let out a gasp, but he didn’t move back from me like I thought he would. He stayed exactly where he was, hips solid as I leaned back slightly on my heels to give him a little more pressure. 

He froze in place as I did this but he didn’t pull his hips back. He did the opposite. It was subtle, but he flexed his hips forward against my body, letting me feel how hard he was for a second before he pulled back again. 

I stood up, turning to look at him with a bottle of bourbon in my hands. I eyed him, keeping my back to him as he moved in closer to me, close enough for his hips to graze over my ass again, his chest touching my shoulder blades. 

“Honestly?” He whispered, moving even closer to me, one of his hands brushing up against my hip as he did. 

“Tell me.” I replied, my voice hoarse, strained from the close contact between us, which made me feel like I was on fire. 

Harry’s eyes flickered down over my face, taking me in, and he swallowed harshly before he confessed, “Couldn’t stop thinking about you all night, honey.” 

My heart was pounding harder than ever before, going wild in my chest. Did he actually just say those words or was I hallucinating? I watched them form on his lips but it still felt unreal. I blinked at him, pulling my bottom lip between my teeth to bite down and make sure I was awake. He reached up and touched my chin, tugging my lip back out. 

He cleared his throat and shook his head, “Not bourbon.” 

His eyes were dark, narrowed down toward me as if he were angry, but I knew he wasn’t. He was turned on. Ridiculously so. I also knew that he loved bourbon, so turning it down meant that he wanted me to bend back over and pick up a different bottle. I didn’t ask him which liquor he wanted instead, I simply bent at the hips again and pushed my ass back into him as I put the bourbon bottle back. 

His hips once again made contact with my ass cheeks, his hard cock pushing up against me in a desperate manner, his fingers digging into the skin of my hip. I pretended to poke around in the cabinet, letting him keep himself pressed to me much longer than the first time. I snagged a bottle of vodka and stood up, pulling myself away from him abruptly. 

“How about this?” I asked breathlessly, licking my lips slowly as I turned my head to meet his stare once again. 

“Not that.” He shook his head, his eyes falling down to my mouth for a long moment. His voice was strained when he spoke again, “Bend back over and try again for me, sweetheart.” 

This time, I smiled slowly at him before I turned away, bending at the hips and jutting my ass out as an offering for him. He did the same thing as before—let me back up against him, let my ass press into his crotch. He was subtle in his movements the first two times, but something came unhinged for him this time. 

Maybe it was the way my loose shirt slid up and exposed my breasts when I bent that time. Maybe it was the way I reached back and grabbed onto his thigh to steady myself on the way down. He lost all sense of self-control, both of his hands now grasping roughly onto my hips and yanking me hard against him. 

A low moan released from his throat as he pulled me into him until my back was pressed against his front, burying his face in my neck. His hands clawed up my sides, hips grinding into me slowly, sensually, like he wanted me to feel all of him. 

“Fuck,” He moaned, “This is wrong… so so wrong.” 

I whined, clinging onto the edge of the counter as he continued to grind himself against me, my cunt dripping with desire for him, “Don’t stop. Please…” 

He grabbed onto both of my arms then, pulling them behind my back and holding them there, bending me over the counter so my bare breasts and my face were pressed to the cool marble. 

“I’ve wanted to do this for so fucking long.” He slid his free hand around my hips, finding the wet spot at the front of my shorts and pressing into it, “You’re soaking wet…” 

“Oh god!” I cried out when he rubbed a circle against my clit, sending a shockwave through me. 

“Shhh…” He ordered me, “Shh, baby. Be a good girl and stay quiet for me, okay? Can you do that?” 

I whimpered and nodded, willing to agree to anything if only he would touch me again. I wiggled my hips back, needing more contact from him, and he grasped onto my shorts, yanking them down to my ankles. He got onto his knees behind me and I shut my eyes with a soft moan as he palmed my thighs, prying them open so he could get a good look at my pussy. 

“Fuck, look at this pretty little cunt.” He breathed in the scent of my arousal, groaning in pleasure, “I need to taste you, honey. I need to…” 

“Please, Harry…” I gasped out just as his tongue slid up my slit slowly, lapping up all of my juices. 

He moaned again as his tongue went wild, slipping up and down my slit and licking up every drop before dipping inside of me, trying to get as much of my arousal as possible. I couldn’t believe how deeply he was tongue fucking me, the sounds of him slurping up every drop sent my eyes rolling into the back of my head. 

“More, more, give me more…” He groaned against my cunt, the vibrations sending a new flood of arousal through me that he lapped up immediately. 

I was shaking, still clinging to the countertop, my face warm now against the marble. I swore I was going to start drooling soon if he kept diving his tongue deep into me, the pleasure being nearly too much for me to handle. 

“You are everything I’ve dreamed of and more.” He murmured as pulled back, standing up to his full height so he could unbutton his pants, “You gonna take every inch of my cock, baby? You think you can handle that?” 

“Yes, yes… please…” I moaned out, nodding in hazy delusion. 

“Stay still, gonna start slow for ya, since you’re being so good for me.” He panted out, removing his cock from his pants but leaving all of his clothes on otherwise. 

I glanced down, seeing how swollen and drippy he was with precum, desperate to be touched. His cock was beautiful, it was thick and long with delicious looking veins protruding from the sides. He fisted himself carefully, dragging his hand up and down it a few times, precum squeezing out. I wanted to lick it up, wanted to taste every inch of him that I could. 

He lined his hips up behind me and positioned his cock between my slit, pressing against me. He rocked his hips back and forth carefully, letting my pussy coat him with my arousal, getting it slippery wet. The head of his cock bumped up against my clit with every thrust he made and I let out a nearly-silent cry at the teasing. 

He reached his hands around to slip them up against my breasts, his fingers pinching my nipples, making them harden at his touch. He buried his face in the back of my neck again, inhaling me, his lips trailing roughly across the sensitive skin there. 

He kissed along every inch of my neck, brushing my hair away from my skin so he could kiss more and more. He pulled me back against his body, his hand moving up over my chest and throat to grasp my chin, forcing my head to the side. I looked at him, craning my neck around as much as I could, offering him my mouth. He leaned in closer to me, our noses brushing, lips parting as we both panted heavily into each other's mouths. 

“I shouldn’t be doing this. You’re so fucking young.” He whispered, leaning his forehead against mine, still thrusting his cock up against my wet cunt but not entering me.

Both his hands went down to my hips, clinging to them tightly, his fingers digging into my skin as he tried to control himself. He was shaking as he pressed his cock against me over and over and I could see him unwinding for me.

“So then stop doing it.” I teased him, grinning wickedly. 

“Get over here.” He ordered me, pulling back so he could force me to turn around. His lips found mine right away, his tongue pressing into my mouth and flicking across mine. His large, calloused fingers took hold of my naked hips, shoving me up onto the counter and spreading my legs apart for him. 

“You want me to stop, baby?” He pulled back to whisper, his fingers slipping into my cunt, immediately stroking upward, making me feel things I’d never felt before in my life. 

“Oh fuck!” I cried out loudly, unable to keep it down. 

He slapped his hand over my mouth, keeping his face right in front of mine so I’d maintain eye contact with him. His fingers began to stroke me faster, harder, pressing into what I assumed was my g-spot. I’d never felt anything like it. My stomach rolled in the best way possible and my legs began to shake. My cunt clenched and gushed around his fingers, so wet for him that it was spreading all over my inner thighs the rougher he finger-fucked me. 

“There you go, that’s my girl… give it all to me, honey.” He murmured, tightening his fingers over my mouth when I moaned behind them, “Shh, come for me, come all over me, I want every fucking drop.” 

He began to finger me harder, faster, his fingers jerking up and down instead of in and out and I felt something explode inside of me. My orgasm hit hard, making me cry out from behind Harry’s hand, and he replaced it with his mouth, swallowing up all of my moans and curses. 

A warm liquid gushed out of my cunt and shot all over Harry’s torso as I came hard. That had never happened before. I pulled back from the kiss and looked in a panic to see his reaction, expecting him to be as confused as I was, but he looked overjoyed by it. His mouth found mine again, tongue excitedly taking control of my own. 

He kept his hand firmly inside of me, his thumb brushing through my public hair down to my clit, rubbing it in slow circles. He moaned into my mouth, his free arm going around my waist to tug me to the edge of the counter. 

“I want you to come like that all over my cock.” He murmured against my lips, kissing me desperately again as he removed his fingers from my pussy. 

He brought his wet hand up to our mouths, pulling back from kissing me so he could offer me his fingers. I sucked my arousal off of them, wiggling my hips down lower so my cunt was on full display for him. I spread my legs as far as I could, wanting him to have all of me. 

“Desperate little thing, aren’t you?” He whispered, to which I nodded, pulling off his fingers with a soft pop. 

“Been waiting for you to notice me.” I whispered back, “Took you long enough…” 

Harry sighed against my lips, shaking his head as he smiled slowly, “Crazy, crazy girl. I’ve been obsessed with you since the day I laid eyes on you.” 

“Really?” I whined out, watching him nod, licking his lips and leaning down to kiss me again. 

“Shh now, pretty. Need to be inside you so bad. Gotta be quiet for me.” He whispered, waiting for me to nod at him in confirmation before he pressed forward. 

I felt the swollen head of his cock pressing up against my cunt, begging for entrance. I rolled my head back, exposing my throat to him as he pushed slowly into me, filling me completely. My cunt stretched to accommodate his size and I gasped out at the slight sting of pain I felt as he kept pushing and pushing inside of me. His cock was big, but I had also only been with one guy before who was below average in size.

“God, fuck,” He gasped as he filled me to the hilt, holding still as he reached a hand up to brush my hair back, “You okay, angel? Hmm?” 

“S’full…” I mumbled, my mouth finding his, kissing him deliriously, “Feels so good… need more.” 

“Yeah? You want more? You wanna feel me so deep inside of you, stretching you out?” He murmured against my mouth, tongue slipping out to tease along my upper lip. I gasped when he pulled back, rolling his hips forward into me hard, “I know it feels so fuckin’ good. Look how you take my cock like the perfect fuck toy you are.” 

He grabbed onto my face, squeezing it as he made me look down between our bodies at the way his cock slid in and out of me, shiny with my arousal. We looked back up at each other in unison and I slid my arms over his shoulders, fisting a hand into his hair. I pulled his mouth back to mine and kissed him deeply, only pulling back to gasp for air or moan his name. 

“Made for me, you’re fuckin’ made for me…” He whispered against my lips as he thrust deeper and deeper into me. When he wasn’t kissing me, he’d slide his large hand over my mouth to keep me quiet. 

“This is mine now.” He ordered me as he slipped his hand between our bodies, fingers finding my clit so he could rub quick circles against it, “Tell me, tell me your pussy belongs to me now.” 

I moaned at his hushed tones, at the strain in his voice as he tried desperately to keep his voice down so we didn’t wake his daughter. He laid kisses down my jaw and to my neck, sucking at the spot right by my ear that sent goosebumps all over my skin. 

“It’s yours, I’m yours. Fuck, don’t stop.” I gasped out, clinging to him harder, digging my nails into his back, “You feel so good, I’m gonna… fuck!” 

He began to pound into me, fingers gripping my thighs so tight that I knew I’d have bruises there the next day. I didn’t care. I wanted him to mark me all over, to claim me as his own, to leave me with reminders of what we did in this dark kitchen. 

Harry grabbed my face in  one hand, squeezing my cheeks hard as my lips fell open in ecstasy. He slid his tongue against my own, coaxing it out, licking across every crevice of my mouth in a sloppy manner. I felt consumed by him in every sense of the word, felt completely claimed in a way I hadn’t expected to feel. I knew I’d never get over this, never be able to go back to fucking guys my own age after experiencing him. 

“Good girl… wanna feel your cunt squeezing me, milking every drop outta me. That’s it, baby. You feel like heaven, oh god.” He gasped, his lips brushing mine with every word, “So fuckin’ hungry for my cock…” 

“Harry… Harry, Harry, Harry…” I moaned out as he reached down to grasp the back of my thighs, shoving my legs up until my knees pressed into my torso, bending me in ways that I knew would leave me sore. 

His eyes fell down to watch his cock pound into me, his breath quickening at the sight, “So fucking wet, baby… god. I’m gonna come, do I need to pull out?” 

I shook my head wildly, whimpering at the intense feeling building up in my abdomen, “On the p-pill. Fuck, Harry! Need you to fill me up. Please, please, come inside me.” 

My legs went over his shoulders as he grabbed me by the throat, applying the slightest of pressure as he tugged my mouth to his own, kissing me deeply. 

He stopped kissing me and I let my eyes flutter open, finding his dark green ones staring back at me. He looked so intense, so full of desire, it made me shiver all over. 

“Look at me, sweet girl. God, you’re beautiful. Don’t look away… right there, baby.” He nodded his head and then his mouth fell open, a moan releasing from him that tipped me over the edge. 

I kept my eyes on his own blown out ones as I came around his cock, my cunt clenching over and over with each wave that hit me. I gushed all over him and he moaned louder at the feeling of it. I clung to him desperately, digging my nails into his back as I pushed my hips forward, trying to ride out my orgasm as long as I could. I never looked away as I watched him come, his cheeks flushed and lips shiny with my spit. 

He moaned my name as he came hard, his body shaking and trembling against my own. I slid my fingers into his sweaty hair, watching the way he came undone. He kept eye contact with me the whole time, drinking me in, like he couldn’t get enough.

Harry kissed me, his tongue moving over mine sensually, his fingers releasing their harsh grip into my skin. His breaths came hard against my cheek as we kissed, but he didn’t pull back to catch it until he had kissed me as long as he could. His hold went from rough to gentle, arms slipping around my back, his fingers a whisper against my spine. We stayed like that for a long time, with him nestled inside of me, our breathing and heartbeats both slowing back to normal. 

“Let me clean you up.” He whispered, slowly pulling out of me, rubbing his hands over my thighs when I dropped them down. 

I felt like jello, like I would melt into the countertops if he didn’t hold onto me tight. He massaged my thighs for a long moment before he reached over for some napkins, using them to clean all of his cum off of the both of us. I watched him bend over to pick up my shorts and underwear, which were left forgotten on the kitchen floor. 

He pressed kisses to my ankles and calves as he carefully slid my shorts back on, waiting for me to lift my hips so he could pull them all the way up. I was grateful for the help as I knew as soon as I stood on both legs, I’d be wobbling all over the place. 

Harry pressed his hands to the counter on either side of my body, leaning forward until his face was inches from mine. His eyes were dark, his gorgeous mouth so close to my own that I could feel his warm breath as he let out a long sigh. 

I thought maybe this would be the moment he tells me that this shouldn’t have happened, that this couldn’t continue, that he was too old or I was too young and we were both stupid with lust. I braced myself like I would for a punch. 

But he didn’t say that. He leaned in and he kissed me passionately, lifting his hands to cup my face between them. He brushed my hair back and then pulled my lips from his, his eyes finding mine right away. 

“The next time I ask you if I should cancel a date,” Harry smiled slowly, lips brushing over mine, “Say yes.” 

[verdemoun]

Kieran not having good horse access in the modern era makes me so sad so this is my petition to get him some

(Although him getting fired from his one stable job is so real, barn owners often suck. Even ones that cater to people with high support needs get pissy with people that just need extra patience)

But I have a horse IRL and she’s the best. Like, friend to all children and capable of visiting retirement homes The Best. She also lives at at barn that’s tucked away at the end of a string of suburban dead end roads. You’d never know there was a barn there. On several occasions I’ve considered putting up an ad to see if there’s anyone with a horse crazy kid that wants to come hang out with her, or maybe some old lady that is in a wheelchair but misses horses. Anyone really. She just wants friends

Like there’s gotta be someone with horses hidden in the backyard near Bessie’s house who would love to let Kieran hang out with them. It’s not like he would need lessons- guaranteed he knows more about horses than most modern owners. I’d give him my horse no questions asked. He deserves horse time

Getting fired from his one stable job was definitely not based on a dear friend's anecdotal experience. As always the horsegirl and never the horse owner, give your precious mare some extra kisses for me. And since you asked so nicely.

Honestly the whole gang were furious about Kieran losing his regular contact with horses because it was so obvious the impact it had on him. They care about their little stable boy and sure they all miss horses but it's so obvious how much Kieran needs them. It's tough, but it's also somewhat okay because Kieran has a 6th sense for horses and will get his fix regardless. For a few months he gets his fix in suddenly sprinting off on outings because horse senses were tingling, and horses are a shockingly common sight in Blackwater. The mounted horse division of Blackwater Police, who are familiar with the gang (ISAAC), will stop and let Kieran pat the horses for a minute or two. Or slow down because they can see him staring from a distance and hell watching horses for him is enough to satiate his brain. Carriage horses are a common tourist and Kieran trap with most more than happy to let Kieran brush their horses between trips because free labor and the horses do look amazing afterwards.

But he finally gets his frequent contact with horses restored when less than 12 months later a massive, tragic, horse hoarding situation was found terrifying close to the city with over 20 emaciated horses kept in a barren dirt scrapyard of ankle-deep mud. After bawling his eyes out at the report and pacing around plotting the murder of the people involved, Bessie contacted the group who took them in on his behalf and offered Kieran as an extra pair of hands. He isn't just a horse girl: he actually has those decades of practical experience taking care of and reading horse behaviour. He could handle The Count. He handled Arthur's 'I jumped on this wild horse 5 minutes ago'. He knows so much about actual horse care and homeopathic medicine. It was the longest Kieran has ever spent outside of the house - he slept in the barn for 6 nights before Arthur had to go help forcibly remove him. But the managers adore him and he volunteers there at least twice a week.

When Arthur gets his own place which is on just enough land to meet the minimum county requirements for having a horse, Kieran immediately talks/puppy-eyes Arthur into adopting a former bronco called Compost from the rescue that no one else would even dare to touch. Compost is a dick who will bite or kick out just because she felt like it and is impossible even for them to ride. Arthur and Kieran both love her.

[bullet-prooflove]

Choices!Series Part 9: Don't Give Up - Nestor Oceteva x Reader

Tagging: @annetje @anime-weeb-4-life @danzer8705 @drabbles-mc @alwaysachorusgirl @witches-unruly-heart @mysoulisasunflower @im-just-a-mississippi-girl @est1887 @the-wandering-lunatic @vannabanana1995 @multifandomloversworld

Part One: First Date (NSFW) - Nester and you have an unusual first date.

Part Two: Familia - (Feat: Marcus Alvarez) - Marcus discovers your relationship.

Part Three: Fair Trade - Miguel makes a proposal.

Part Four: Slaughterhouse Rules - Nestor deals with the problem.

Part Five: Stay With Me - Nestor takes care of you.

Part Six: Run - Nestor can't give you what you need.

Marcus takes pity on him or that’s what Nestor assumes it is when he’s invited in for dinner after dropping Marcus off at his home. He sits in the Escalade and stares at the building as the two of them side by side.

“What else you gonna do hijo?” Marcus prompts as he undoes his seatbelt. “Sit alone in that apartment and drink away your sorrows, you can do that here, at least you’ll get a home cooked meal out of it.”

Nestor looks at the other man and nods grimly because the truth is he doesn’t want to go back to that apartment, he doesn’t want to look at that jar of paper roses and wonder where you are and what you’re doing, if you’re being safe.

It’s thoughts like that that keep him awake at night.

It feels like he hasn’t slept in years.

He follows Marcus into the house and is immediately swallowed up by the chaos of two children, yelling as they play Hungry Hippos at the kitchen table. He isn’t prepared for this, isn’t prepared to be around other people, ones that have no idea of the life he leads. His eyes land on Santi and it feels like a fucking punch to the throat. He remembers the day Mikey killed his father, with a golden gun of his father’s that jammed with every single bullet. It was painful to watch. Paco didn’t have to die; it wasn’t even his fault that Dita had taken the car that day. However, that grief over his mother’s death was eating Mikey up, it made him unstable. It had also made Santi an orphan. Nestor didn’t know what would have become of the boy if Marcus and Izzy hadn’t taken him in.

“Coat in the closet.” Marcus tells him pointedly, tilting his head towards the closet next to the front door. Nestor knows what he means, he has his shoulder holster on under his jacket. He wouldn’t want the kids anywhere near the guns either. He removes his jacket out of sight, along with the holster, storing them on the highest shelf out of reach of the children.

He’s quiet during dinner but polite. He doesn’t taste the food, not really, everything tastes like ash in his mouth these days, he eats for sustenance because at this point his job is the only thing he has left. He sits and absorbs the conversation; he learns that Tessa is enrolled in horse riding lessons and that Santi’s fanatical about Lego. He finds himself on the floor with the two of them building a house, complete with stables for the black and brown Lego horses he didn’t know existed. He’s surprised by how quickly the time goes by; how good it feels to be doing something with his hands other than killing.

When Izzy ushers the kids off to bed, he sits at the kitchen table with Marcus, a beer in his hand and finds himself staring at the polaroid of you and Tessa on the fridge. It leaves an ache in his chest, one that increases the longer he looks at it. He thinks of the last time he saw that smile, the morning before your meeting with Miguel. You’d stolen a piece of toast from his plate, exchanging it for a kiss before you hurried out the door. You’d wanted to hit the library when it opened, those books, the ones you’d taken out, they’re still sitting on your nightstand untouched.

“She’s not coming back, is she?” He says finally, dragging his gaze away and focusing on the taste of beer. It’s from a local brewery, something with citrus, it tastes sharp on his tongue.

Marcus sighs before taking a sip from his own bottle.

“I don’t know.” He tells Nestor. “The last time… I didn’t hear from her for almost a year.”  There’s a pause before he lowers his bottle. “I can’t give up on her.”

Nestor reads between the lines. Marcus is giving him his blessing to walk away, to go back to the life he had before. One with less complications, and a partner whose actually there when he needs them. Nestor sags back in his chair, his fingers trailing over the label of the beer bottle.

“I’m not ready to either.”

-----------------------------------------------------

You’re five hours into an eleven-hour drive when you realise you aren’t going to make it home. The windows of your rented car are rolled down and you have the radio turned up to an almost mind-numbing volume in an attempt to stay awake.

Over the last twenty miles that you’ve started to feel lightheaded, a deep-set exhaustion is settling in your bones. The nausea is back, it churns up your stomach as you pull into the roadside motel carpark. You don’t need to check the stab wound to know that at some point over the past few hours, it’s started to seep through the makeshift bandage. You zip up your jacket as you leave the car to hide the stain on your shirt as you head to the office.

By the time you make it to your room, your head is spinning. You collapse on the bed, your eyes fixating on the ceiling before you burst out laughing. You’ve been in this room before, you recognise the watermark by the light fixture from the last time you and Coco hit Reno. The sound of your phone ringing cuts through your thoughts, you remove it from your pocket before placing it against your ear.

Part of you hopes that it’s Nestor, that he’s reaching out again. You’ve ignored his calls over the past three months, but now you’re ready to pick up. You long to hear the rumble of his voice, to tell him you’re sorry, that this thing you had endured had been too much to handle at the time.

“It’s Coco.”

“You checking in on me?” You ask him, your eyelids fluttering closed as you suck in a deep breath against the agony that’s searing through your side.

“You sound like shit.” He tells you.

You swallow hard against the well of emotion that was building in your chest because Coco always told the truth, no matter how harsh the reality.

“Yea.”

Your fingers pinch the bridge of your nose, there’s a pain gnawing at your temples, your mouth dry.

“Tell me where you are.” He requests. “I’ll come get you.”

“Remember that weird watermark at that motel on the way to Reno?”  You ask him, your eyelids feeling heavy as the room tilts on its axis.

“The one you thought looked like a dragon?” he questions, you could see the shape of it forming in your mind as you remembered that night in question. Smoking Purple Kush on a bedspread that had seen better days, listening to the couple next door fuck so hard you thought they might come through the wall.

“It’s still here.” You pause, your jaw clenching against the lance of agony that stabs through you. A low grunt erupts from your lips before you speak, your voice a dull whine. “Coco, I think I need help.”

“No shit, that’s why I’m already in the fucking car. Can you sit tight for the next few hours?”

You stare at the vivid red blood staining your trembling fingertips.

“I don’t think I have a choice.”

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Like My Work? - Why Not Buy Me A Coffee

[leighsartworks216]

The Viper: Rewritten

Chapter Three

Ch 1 - Ch 2 - Ch 4 - Ch 5 - Ch 6 - Ch 7

Jaskier x gn!Witcher!reader

AO3 - I recommend reading it there

Warnings: blood, violence, death, mentions of killing animals + children, grief, a lot of angst in this one boys

Word Count: 4059

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“You would have killed him.”

The gentle clinking of buckles stopped. Within the silence, footsteps approached, heavy and self-assured. Geralt stood like a disapproving parent at the door to the stall.

Determined to avoid his burning stare, you continued saddling up your horse for the long ride ahead. Bayard, a dark brown horse, speckled with white and grey on his flank, bobbed his head at the Wolf.

Your answer went unspoken, and yet was quite clear to him.

“Why?”

Even as you said it, it felt wrong. “Because it’s what I was hired to do.” It left a sour aftertaste in your mouth. Bitter, ugly guilt.

He said nothing. You were young, younger than most Witchers he knew. You were practically an infant still learning the harsh realities of the world and a Witcher’s place in it. He’d made mistakes in his own time - it was guaranteed you would make some, too.

You grabbed the bridle off the wall and slipped it over Bayard’s head easily. You were fortunate to have a horse that enjoyed riding so much. He was a gift, after all; you could not simply leave him behind.

“What happened?” you asked after the silence stretched too long.

Geralt sighed, crossing his arms and leaning against the wooden frame of the stall. “Duny,” he enunciated the strange name, “insisted he needed to repay me for saving him. I called the Law of Surprise.”

“Didn’t learn your lesson, then.” The tease fell flat as he shook his head.

“Pavetta’s with child.”

You stared at him with wide eyes. He studied your horse to avoid your gaze.

“You… So you’re going to claim the child?”

The Witcher grumbled, displeased at the idea of raising a little one of his own. It was no wonder why. All Witchers were ill-suited to family life. The constant traveling, the emotional distance, the contracts they had to take - their whole lives were like a warzone for younglings.

“Mousesack is staying, to look after it.”

“‘It,’” you mimicked, half-amused. “You should have asked for money.”

He hummed, agreeing, as you guided the Appaloosa from the stall. Bayard followed your movements easily, as though he knew precisely what you would do next. You could drop his lead and he would walk to the open doorway of the stable and wait for you to get on his back. You ran a hand down his neck affectionately.

Geralt’s eyes shifted down to your other hand. The cut he made to get you to drop your weapon was wrapped neatly with a fresh bandage. It would heal.

“Where will you go now?” he asked. Word spreads fast, he was really saying. The humans will try killing you before they let you help. You understood nonetheless.

Nilfgaard would be more trusting than the North, since you were one of their own. Your thoughts returned to the Viper Keep, flashes of your brothers bickering and the expansive library held within its walls. It eased your heavy guilt, golden eyes mellowing at the memories.

He followed you most of the way down the stables, but stopped by a separate stall with a brown mare inside. With a foot in the stirrup, you hoisted yourself overtop Bayard and adjusted yourself in the saddle, all the while turning your steed so you could better see the Wolf.

“Home.” Pride swelled and simmered in your gut. You swallowed it down to admit, “I still have much to learn.”

He said nothing, but hummed in silent agreement and commendation. It was hard as a youngling with enhanced abilities and magics to admit when they have done something wrong. At least you could own up to them.

You tilted your head respectfully to the other. “I’ll see you on the Path, Wolf.”

-

After a week in the saddle, you were overjoyed to be home at last. Nights of sleeping on cold, dirt ground and slicing down pesky beasts that got too near to the road would all be worth it to wander the grand halls and fall back into your old, worn-out cot. The time it took to ride up the mountain was over in a brief moment as excitement lifted your spirits-

No.

No, no, no.

Please, no…

Your blood ran ice cold as you bore witness to the horror in front of you. Flames billowed out of windows, banners turned to ash carried along the wind, blood covering every inch of worn cobble.

Bayard snorted and whinnied, anxiously moving his feet as the heat of the blaze hit him.

A body lay prone on the bridge from the Keep. Without thinking, you slid off Bayard's back and rushed forward. The stone scraped your knees as you fell hard by the corpse’s side, but you could not feel it. You didn’t care. Shaking hands turned the scrawny, scorched body over.

A sob ripped from your throat as the face, wide-eyed and mouth agape in terror, came into view. Oalvir. The idiot didn’t pass his final test when you did; he was forced to stay behind and continue training until he could. If he had just killed that stupid ferret, he could have- He wouldn’t have…

It didn’t matter.

None of the scenarios you could dream up would change the outcome. It could not bring back your brother. Hot, fat tears blurred your vision and fell onto his singed clothes. Dead, empty eyes stared into the smoldering sky as you closed his mouth and pushed his eyelids down. Your chest heaved and throat ached as another sob forced its way out. You tried to fight it. You were a deadly assassin - you shouldn’t be crying.

You shouldn’t…

It was useless. You wrapped your arms around him and held his body against your chest, and pressed your face against his silenced pulse, letting your emotions take over as your home was reduced to ash and burnt rock.

“Hey!”

Your head shot up, a flicker of hope igniting in your heart. The scratch of blades being drawn snuffed it out.

“It’s another Witcher!” the man called behind him. He was haloed by the fire pouring from the doorway of the Keep. Your tears blurred him until he was merely a moving smudge of black.

Three men, clad in the armor of the Nilfgaardian, advanced on you. You gently laid Oalvir back on the stone, crossing his arms. May he find rest in a merciful and kind afterlife.

As you stood, you wiped away your tears on the back of your wrist. They would serve you no longer. Dual blades were pulled silently from their leather sheaths. The soldiers held their blades up.

“Stay where you are, Viper,” the first spat. Your very existence repulsed them.

Good.

You rushed forward, reckless, at the man in front. Your steel blade collided with his, pushing him back with the force. With his attention on one hand, your other reached past the interlocked weapons and sliced his throat. He gurgled on his own blood as he collapsed.

The other two hesitated. They did not expect their friend to go down so quickly. The one to your right charged forward with a battle cry. You rolled under his wide swing and came to your feet behind him. Your steel dagger swung in a wide arch behind you and slotted itself under his helm. His body froze as shock took hold. You ripped the blade out. He fell atop the first, a sticky pool of blood stretching out like tendrils as it flowed along the cobble.

The last soldier backed away as you approached. Your steps were calculated and unafraid. You had nothing to lose - your brothers were dead, the mentors were dead, Ivar Evil-Eye was dead. Stuldweck was dead. Everything you held dear was ripped from you. You could walk into the Abyss and face down scores of demons without flinching.

“Stay- Stay back!” he cried. His voice trembled. You did not stop. His foot caught on the uneven stone and he fell backward, helmet flying off with the blow. One arm held his sword up as the other helped him crawl back. “Please! Please- I have a family!”

In one flowing movement, you shoved his sword away and sliced off his hand at the wrist. He screamed. You stepped on his chest and pressed down against his sternum to keep him in place. His hand clawed at your boot, desperately trying to shove it off him. You leaned forward, elbow resting on your knee, until you were nearly face to face with him. He groaned under the pressure.

“So did I,” you hissed. He whimpered. You scowled as his blood tainted your boots. “Who ordered this attack?” He sputtered and pleaded for his life. You pressed your dagger to his throat, an obvious warning. “Tell me, else I’ll cut off all your fingers and toes, your ears, your-”

“Alright! I’ll say! I’ll say!” He sobbed, resigning himself to his fate. You would kill him either way. His chest shuddered under your foot as he inhaled. In his last moments, he wanted to be thinking of his wife and kids. “The Usurper. He ordered it.”

“Why?”

“I don’t know!” he cried. Tears poured down his face to the stone below. “Please, that’s all I know, I swear.”

You studied his face for a moment, then sighed. “Rest easy.” His eyes met yours, confused, before the light faded from them. Your dagger lodged itself in his heart, through the tough leather of the armor. A quick death.

You looked up at the school. Memories of kinship and growing up went up in flames with the scrolls and books you studied. Loss and grief filled the hole. Your eyes flicked to the spot in the courtyard where you completed your final trial to become a Witcher. The dark blood against the snow, melting it with its heat. Your precious steed, dead at your hand. You had cried for a week in Stuldweck’s arms.

If you hadn’t killed Bayard, you would not be here to mourn Oalvir’s death, nor the death of all your fallen comrades. You would have fallen with them; side by side, one last time, with your family.

There was nothing left for you here.

You exhaled shakily. Your limbs felt heavy. Your soul felt heavier.

You retrieved your dagger from the soldier’s ribcage and wiped both clean on the cloth of his pants. Bayard watched from the start of the bridge as you slowly trudged back to him. He pressed his nose against your body, sensing your sadness. You only managed a slight pat on his neck. His hooves against stone and the crackling of the great fire followed you back down the mountains.

-

These woods were supposed to be quiet. It was late at night - the moon was high in the sky, and crickets were singing their sad songs. The next village wasn’t for several miles yet. Not only that, you knew there were no individual huts or shelters nearby.

So why did you hear music?

Your first thought was bandits. It wouldn’t be unusual for them to camp out in the woods, waiting for unsuspecting travelers to jump. But, if it was bandits, why would they draw attention to themselves by playing an instrument and singing? It was a lute, or something stringed, by the sound of it. The carefully plucked notes hid a tentative voice. A bard, perhaps?

Then came the second round of questions. Why would a bard compose his music in the woods? Surely, he would prefer the luxuries of an inn or even a brothel, should he desire company.

You couldn’t imagine this being a camp of the men you were after. The village never mentioned any inclinations towards music, nevermind that they ran away several days ago. They would not linger this close to the town they were running from for so long. No, this was something else entirely.

Curiosity took its hold as you slipped off Bayard’s back and led him off of the dirt road into the trees, opposite of the bard’s music. Satisfied he was hidden enough from anyone traveling late at night, you crossed the path and made your way through the underbrush. Only the wind and stars knew of your presence.

Leaves and twigs whispered your whereabouts as you stepped upon them, or as they snagged onto the fabric of your riding cloak. It seemed to blend in to the breeze that rustled the trees. This, after all, is what you had been trained for.

The orange glow of a fire guided you like a beacon through the dark forest. As you creeped ever closer, you were surprised to find the bard from the banquet, alone. He sat propped up against a log, lute cradled in his lap as he seemed to speak to himself. Wasn’t Geralt supposed to be traveling with him? Surely the Wolf hadn’t abandoned him out in the wilderness.

You tensed, your whole body becoming rigid as cold steel touched your neck. As slow as you could manage, you turned in your crouched position to see who your attacker was, hand farthest from them coming to rest on the blade at your hip where they would not see. A tall, hulking brute of a man stood over you, white hair glowing in the moonlight. His eyes were hidden by the shadows of night.  Your face was hidden by your hood; all he could make out was from the tip of your nose down. Two strangers ready to strike at any moment.

Quickly, you pushed his sword away with the back of your hand against the flat edge of the blade and stood, gathering a safe distance. Distantly, the singing stopped.

You each stood there for a brief moment, assessing and waiting for the other to make a move. Your dagger glinted in the firelight as you flipped it around in your hand. He stepped forward and swiped at you with his sword. You easily deflected the hit, using the momentum to guide it along your dagger and away from your body. He recovered too quickly for you to attack within the opening, and struck again.

It was a dance amongst the brambles. You deflected or dodged his every swing, and he shut down every opportunity you could find to attack him. It felt oddly familiar. Everything about the man’s fighting style was reminiscent of the fight you had months ago, within palace walls and along polished floors.

You were briefly distracted by the thought. He swung his blade in a motion that would easily cut off your head at the shoulders. You backed away just in time for it to avoid your neck and catch the skin of your cheek instead. It did not hurt, as adrenaline was pumping through your veins, but you could feel the warm ooze of blood as it slipped down your face.

He seemed… relieved to have cut you, as though you could have been a mere figment of his imagination. The fact you could be hurt only grounded you into reality. You used the opportunity to lunge forward and slice at his belly in a wide arc. Your blade was mere inches from his body, stopped only by the shout that pierced the haze of battle.

“Geralt!”

It was not the fact someone shouted that kept you from reaching out those few more inches - pleas for mercy often fell upon deaf ears. It was the name.

The arc of your attack stopped short as you rapidly backed away. The man you were fighting stood still and tense as he studied your actions. The bard stood just before the underbrush, blocking the firelight as he looked back and forth in horror.

You squinted into the dark; it was almost too thick for your enhanced senses to peer through. Sure enough, as the man turned his head toward the bard (perhaps to tell him to back away and stop being an idiot), the orange light of the flames caught his yellow irises.

Your dagger lowered as realization set in. “Wolf?”

He stopped and stared. You lowered your hood with one hand, revealing your face to his enhanced vision. The bard couldn’t make out any features.

“... Viper?” His sword fell uselessly to his side.

You huffed as you sheathed your weapon and stepped closer to punch him in the shoulder. As you stepped into the light, the bard recognized your eyes and the face they belonged to. You effectively saved his life that night; he wouldn’t dare forget your complexion for the great kindness you did for him.

“You son of a bilge rat!” you cursed, pulling him back to the present. “You should know better than to sneak up on people like that!”

He huffed a laugh. “Look who’s talking.”

-

You rummaged through Bayard’s saddlebags for herbs. He snorted and playfully reached back to nose at your shoulder. You couldn’t fight back the smile as you shoved him away. All the while, Geralt tended to the campfire and the bard talked his ear off.

“This is the Witcher that protected me that night!” he exclaimed in a hushed voice he thought you would not be able to hear. He went on in dramatic fashion. “It’s just as I said: a table, carried by the powerful winds of love, came hurtling toward us! In a flash, they covered me just as it slammed into the wall, shooting splinters in all directions!”

“I was only repaying the favor,” you added on as you joined them by the fire. The bard seemed startled at your input. You expected him to flinch as you leveled your yellow eyes on him. But just as he had months ago, he wasn’t afraid, merely fascinated. “It was you who protected me first after I slammed into the wall and had the air stolen from my lungs. It can’t have been easy to remove all that glass from your hair.”

Geralt looked to the bard, a hint of a smirk on his lips. The bard flushed and nodded his head to the side. “Yeah, well… The selflessness of a hero.”

Geralt scoffed. ‘Selfless’ was not a word that could be used to describe his traveling companion in a thousand years.

You picked apart the herbs you retrieved - celandine and white myrtle petals - and dropped them together into a mortar. The soft grinding sound filled the air. “I don’t think I ever caught your name, bard.”

“Oh, my sincerest apologies!” He stood and bowed deeply, still holding his lute in one hand. “I am Julian Alfred Pancratz, Viscount de Lettenhove, but you may call me Jaskier.” When he rose, Jaskier’s face was split in a brilliant smile.

He sat back down, waiting for you to introduce yourself. Geralt couldn’t help noticing the way your face fell, your eyes distant and unseeing, before you focused back on your herbs. After a moment, you cleared your throat.

“Viper,” you answered. You forced a strained smile at the bard. “You may call me Viper.”

Before Jaskier could ask questions (having missed your constrained emotions), Geralt changed the subject. “Where are you headed?”

Your body relaxed into the new topic. They watched as you set the mortar on the log next to you and drew a blade. The reflective surface, although not perfectly clear, helped you to see where the cut on your face was. With one hand holding the dagger by your face like a mirror, the other scooped up some of the makeshift salve and brushed it overtop the inflamed skin.

“I picked up a few contracts.”

“Monsters?” came Jaskier’s voice, hopeful.

The White Wolf stayed silent.

You shook your head and stood to return your new ointment to your saddlebags. You pulled two flyers from the pouch and held them out for the other Witcher to take. “Deserters,” you explained. “They ran away a few days ago; were headed out this way. Seen them?”

Jaskier leaned over, pressing against Geralt’s side, as they looked over the ink faces.

WANTED

50 CROWNS

DEAD OR ALIVE

“No,” the Witcher grunted.

You sighed and took the papers back. “It’s no matter. If they’re smart, they’ll be heading for Novigrad.”

Jaskier sat up straighter. “How come?”

You stuffed the flyers back into your bag. “Novigrad is the best port to take if one wishes to get to Kovir and Poviss,” you said. You sat back down on the log. “Kovir is bound to strict neutrality; it’s unlikely anyone would search for them once they get there.”

You look at Geralt. He was focused on stoking the fire once again. “Where are you off to, then?”

He hm’d. “Next town over to look for work.”

“Have you ever fought a djinn by any chance?” You and Geralt turned to the bard. He seemed to flounder under the attention. “I just m-mean, uhm, we happened to encounter one recently and I wondered if you’d ever dealt with one before.” Jaskier strategically avoided making eye contact with Geralt, who glared so intensely at the bard he could feel it burning his skull.

“Once, with one of my brothers,” you admitted.

Your eyes darkened at the memory of Oalvir laying on the bridge.

“What happened?” he pressed, fingers resting on the lute’s strings.

You swallowed down the past. “A woman was bringing up water from a well when she found its pitcher. When she realized what it was, she wished for it to grant her freedom from her husband. From what we gathered, he was a right bastard. Nobody liked him.

“It twisted her words. That night, she was hypnotized into killing her husband where he lay. And it forced her to kill her children, so she no longer had any ties to the man. She was distraught with grief at what she’d done. We found her body in the well.

“My brother and I worked to send the genie away before it could latch onto any of the other townsfolk. The only way to get rid of a djinn is to have it grant three wishes. It was a bloody mess when we finished.”

Jaskier’s eyes were wide, mouth agape in awe. He stumbled over his words and himself as he rushed to his own bags to grab his journal and pencil. “Tell me everything. This is- Geralt never tells me details!” You almost laughed at his enthusiasm. “Start at the beginning. How did you get the contract? Where was this?”

“I would love to stay and have a glorious ballad written of my exploits,” you mused as you stood and worked to untie the knot in Bayard’s lead. “Unfortunately, I must be on my way.”

“You’re traveling at night?” Geralt spoke up.

You hummed. Free from the tree he was tied to, he followed as you led him past the campfire and toward the road. “It’s better for my work if I do,” you said. “Most travelers, deserters, bandits, what have you - they travel during the day. Less monsters that way. But at night, they’re stationary. It’s easier to catch up to them this way, and there’s less traffic.” You grinned slightly at the bewildered way they stared at you. Your methods confounded and amazed them.

“Wha- When do you sleep?!”

“When the job is done.” You turned to guide Bayard through the trees, but stopped. You took a hesitant breath and looked to Geralt, watching with attentive eyes from the fire. “Wolf…” Your mouth opened, ready to tell him of everything that happened to the Viper Keep. To warn him that if Gorthur Gvaed could fall, he should be wary of the same thing happening to the Wolves. But no words came out. The wound was still too fresh.

Your face was one of pure concern and seriousness. He couldn’t see the child you were as easily anymore.

“Stay safe out there.”

His brow furrowed, but he asked no questions. He nodded; a silent promise. “You, too.”

Satisfied, you walked with Bayard through the trees and underbrush, back to the dirt road, worn down from decades of travel. Your steed bobbed his head and kicked up the dirt, excited to ride and run once more. You were barely in the saddle before he took off in a gallop.

Back on the road. Back to your contracts, to your job. To your life.

As the last Viper.

---

Tag List:

@writeawaythepain

@sleepyqueerenergy

@lex-caspartine

@lastwandastan

@adozenforks

@plaguedoctorsnake

@solomonsimp

[ridingancientrome]

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[lifeofresulullah]

The Life of The Prophet Muhammad: The Battle of Uhud and Afterwards

THE BATTLE OF UHUD: Part 10

What Happened to Abdullah b. Jahsh

On the intense day of the battle, Abdullah b. Jahsh and Sa’d b. Abi Waqqas stood aside and prayed God Almighty. Sa’d said, “O my Lord! Make me confront a great enemy and defeat him; make me victorious!” Abdullah b. Jahsh said, “Amin” for his prayer and then said, “O my Lord! Make me confront a great enemy and be martyrized. Let my nose and ears be cut off. When you ask me on the Day of Judgment, ‘Where were your nose and ears cut off?’, I will say, ‘O my Lord! They were cut off in Your and Your Messenger’s way’.”

Abdullah b. Jahsh were among the martyrs and his nose and ears were cut off just as he had prayed. When Sa’d b. Abi Waqqas saw it, he could not hide his astonishment.

The Prophet near the Dead Body of Mus’ab b. Umayr

Mus’­ab b. Umayr, the standard-bearer of the Islamic army was also among the martyrs. The Messenger of God approached his dead body and recited the following verse: “Among the Believers are men who have been true to their Covenant with God: of them some have completed their vow (to the extreme) and some (still) wait: but they have never changed (their determination) in the least.”

They could not find anything as a shroud for Mus’ab. He had his kaftan on him. When they covered the top part of his body with it, his feet remained open; when they covered the bottom part of his body with it, his head remained open. When the Messenger of God saw it, he said, “Cover the top part of his body with his kaftan and cover his feet with izhir (dyer’s madder: a kind of plant with a nice scent).”

To make all kinds of sacrifices in the way of God, His Messenger and Islam, to face all kinds of difficulties and to be a martyr in the end, to be deprived of a shroud to be covered and to be covered by plants! A scene full of lessons to be drawn and full of honor!

Then, the Messenger of God led the janazah prayers of the martyrs. It is also narrated that the janazah prayers of Uhud martyrs were not performed then and that they were performed eight years after they were buried.

Then, the Prophet ordered the weapons and armors of the martyrs to be removed and then to be buried with their blood and bloody clothes. The Companions asked, “Who shall we bury first?” The Messenger of God said, “Bury the one that knew the Quran the most.”

Hazrat Ali is Sent to Scout out

The Messenger of God was worried that the polytheists would walk toward Madinah and kill the women and children. Therefore, he wanted to find out whether the enemy really went to Makkah or not. He called Hazrat Ali and said to him, “Go and follow the polytheists! Find out what they are doing and what they are planning to do? If they travel on their camels and take the horses in tow, it means they want to return to Makkah; if they ride the horses and herd the camels, it means they intend to go to Madinah.” Thus, he sent Hazrat Ali to scout out.

Hazrat Ali went and saw that they were riding the camels and taking the horses in tow. He returned and told the Messenger of God about it.

The Prayer of the Prophet after the Battle

After the Companions that were martyred were buried, the Messenger of God set off to Madinah together with the mujahids. When they reached the place called Harra, the Prophet stopped his army and made the following emotional supplication:

“O God! Praise be to you.

O God! There is no force that can roll what you spread and that can spread what you roll. There is nobody that can guide a person that you deviate and that can deviate a person that you guide. Nobody can give what you do not give and nobody can prevent what you give.

O God! Give and send to us your mercy, abundance, grants and generosity!

O God! I ask your bounties on the day when I am poor and your security on the day when I fear!

O God! Make us love belief! Decorate our hearts with belief! Make us hate unbelief, rebellion and oppression! Make us one of those people who know what is harmful for our religion and world; make us among those that find the right path!

O God! Make us live as Muslims and die as Muslims! Include us in the group of righteous and good people; they never lose their honor; nor do they abandon from their religion.

O God!  Punish the unbelievers who deny your Prophet, turn away from your way and fight your prophet!”

The mujahids said ‘Amin’ for that moving, sorrowful and thought-provoking supplication.

God Almighty accepted that prayer of His Messenger; He destroyed the enemies of Islam in a short time!

Returning to Madinah and Being Welcomed

The Ansar women were on the streets; they were watching the army that was coming; they wanted to find out whether the Messenger of God returned safely or not and to see him. The Islamic army entered Madinah on the 7th of the month of Shawwal toward the evening. The women were crying for their husbands that were martyred. When the Messenger of God heard them, he started to cry, too.

[zippyequestrain]

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[humburgerr]

The Maiden’s Dart (a Percy Jackson fanfiction, first part of the “Sacred Blood” series)

Chapter 1: (LEA) “Welcome to my life, I guess…”

I don’t hate flying.

Like, really, flying is cool: I was six when I first had a plane ride. I recall quite clearly how amazed I was when I glanced out of the window and I saw the mountaintops deep below us, and I will never forget how excited I was, two years later, when dad decided to take me horse-riding with him. The old black pegasus neighed quite a bit when the both of us settled on his back, my father’s arms around me, so that I wouldn’t fall off, as he laughed.

- Blackjack, you know that doughnuts aren’t good for your health! - He told the pegasus.

Then, uncle Jason’s strong grip around me as we darted across the sky Superman style, feeling the cool breeze of Summer’s clouded evenings and joking and laughing…

Yeah, flying is cool, a lot of my good memories are associated with it.

Does that mean I love flying?

Hah, nope.

But let’s start by the beginning of the story, shall we?

It all started last winter, when Athena, my divine granny and caretaker had the incredible incredibly terrible idea that I somehow needed to start practicing early to get my driving licence as soon as possible when I turned sixteen.

Now, that doesn’t sound like a bad idea, right? WRONG.

The thing is, although in the last thirty years or so the gods tried to be closer to their half-blood children, and although many of them actually became better parents, they - being these immortal, super-powerful cosmic beings - still had some trouble actually understanding the way mortal bodies worked, and how many limitations they actually had. They just assumed we had been much like minor deities all along, minus the immortality feat and the sick powers.

So, like, if the King of the gods lost his Master Bolt, none of them saw a gargantuan logic fallacy in assuming that it had been stolen by some weird kid with ADHD. Hermes had stolen Apollo’s cattle mere hours after his birth, after all.

You can imagine the shock when Will Solace, the newly appointed GoAT (as in Godly Anatomy Teacher, and not Mr. Underwood’s lower half) explained to them how slowly human grew up, and how they had to learn everything from scratch. Oh, the look of absolute horror on the gods’ face when they learned that humans shed their first set of teeth and grew new ones.

Now, most of the gods were taking these anatomy lessons very seriously, but some of them… well, let’s say that some gods really liked to skip class.

Granny Athena was one of the latter. Being the goddess of knowledge, she felt extremely disgusted by the thought that she would have needed to learn something - anything - from a mere mortal. Being the goddess of wisdom, she also should have known better than to give up a chance to expand her knowledge.

If you know Athena, however, you probably also know that she is prideful. Too prideful for her own good, I might say (but I won’t).

Anyway, one morning I woke up with the goddess of wisdom storming into my bedroom, up in Mt. Olympus. If I had been a bit more awake and in control of myself, perhaps I would have suppressed it, but given that I had woken up in that same instant and my brain was still set in “this is a dream, you can do whatever you want” mode, I gave her a quick look and burst out laughing right at her face.

She was dressed like a traffic officer, with the uniform and the plastic helmet over her head, the white gloves and the traffic signs hanging from her belt, right near a plastic walkie-talkie. The fact is, the uniform was too perfect, the helmet a bit too shiny, the boots looked like they had never seen a real road in their entire life. She looked less like a real cop and more like a silly tv advertiser, one that stood near a row of happy children traversing the road and said to the camera something like: Make people happy, join our lines! It will be fun, I swear! The kind of propaganda that would have won over the kids in New Rome after like three seconds.

Athena gave me one of her bad looks, and I thanked the Universe that she wasn’t the goddess of gravity, because otherwise my entire body would have been completely splattered all over the pristine clean marble floor. However, her glance still managed to send shivers down my spine and to make my laughter run straight back into my throat.

Finally, she averted her eyes and I started breathing again.

- Gra… Lady Athena. - I caught myself before calling her granny.

- Achillea, - my full name felt like an icy stab in the gut, and she probably noticed, because her voice slightly softened - get dressed, Hatchling. We are going out for a while. I’ll wait for you in the throne room.

Then she vanished into thin air, like she had never been there.

I stared at the door for what felt like a solid minute, with my brain whispering in my ear that it would’ve been pretty sweet if I put my insomniac butt back to sleep. I agreed with my brain for maybe half a second, then the look in Athena’s eyes came to haunt my mind again, and I got out of bed.

“But the pillows! - My brain pleaded - The soft blankets!”

“I know buddy. - I told my brain - but we heard sweet old granny.”

My brain fell silent, which, me being me, was a pretty common occurrence.

The moment my bare feet touched the floor, invisible hands began to fold the blankets, straight up the pillow and generally remake the bed. The maids talked to each other in a sweet, low hum, their words so whispered that I had trouble hearing the full sentences. I cleared my throat, and they became perfectly silent, and totally still, I could guess, since I couldn’t hear their soft breeze anymore.

- Well, guess I’ll be going to take a shower and get dressed. If you need anything, you know where to find me.

I was about to leave the room, when one of the maids spoke up.

- M’Lady, - she started, and by the low hum of her voice, I could identify her as Mia, the First Maid - Lady Athena has sent another servant to your baths.

My veins frosted.

- What.

The maids started whispering to each other, and even tho I couldn’t fully hear them, I picked up a few words: angry… spite… punishment…

It took me an instant to put two and two together. They feared I was angry, and that, since I couldn’t lash out at my divine granny, I would punish them instead. It took me slightly more to realise that I spoke to them in a cold, firm tone, and that I unconsciously channeled some of my power to make that sound even more intimidating.

I regained my cool.

- Hey girls, - I said in a much more informal tone - I didn’t mean to scare you, really. And I am not angry. Neither towards you, nor towards my grandma. It’s just that I felt… surprised.

Surprised wasn’t the word I was thinking at. And, to be fair, I was hating Granny Athena a little bit, but I wouldn’t have dared to punish these friendly spirits just for that.

Mia spoke again.

- If it displeases you so much, M’Lady, I could still tell the servant to leave the place. We truly understand, that after what happened with Rya-

- That was just an incident! - I interrupted her, careful, this time, not to scare them anymore - It was just an unhappy incident.

None of them replied, and if I must guess, they all nodded in agreement.

I waved my hand, and left them to their tidying.

My bedroom was on the farthest side of my small apartment, which was on the farthest side of Athena’s palace, on Mt. Olympus.

Perhaps you might really want to know why I live in Olympus, and not at Camp Half-Blood in New Athens, with the rest of my family? Am I, maybe, a goddess? Did I give up my mortal shell to bloom into a beautiful, undying being?

No, I am very, very human. And well… to say it with an understatement, it is fairly complicated. I didn’t choose to live here, not exactly. It just came with the age, I could say. One day Athena showed up in our living room and demanded for my mom and my dad to give me to her. I don’t remember the details, because as soon as the conversation heated, mom sent me and my big brother, Michael, to play outside.

Then, Athena came out, told me to pack my things, and we both disappeared from our backyard in a ray of cold light.

The End.

Now, now, I can imagine what you are thinking: “OmG LEA WerE yOu AbDUctEd?”

No, I don’t think so. Well, at least I hope not.

From what Athena told me after that, my parents were having troubles with me: my powers were too great, and they were showing up too fast for them to really be prepared to handle the situation. They, however, were stubborn. They really didn’t want to let go of me (and can you really blame them?) but at the same time they didn’t know what to do. Basically, things were getting really dangerous. For me, and for those around me. That’s when my grandmother stepped in and decided to take matters into her own hands.

So, I get to see my parents and my brother during summertime and during mortal festivities such at Christmas and Easter and so on. For the rest of the year, I stay up above the clouds with the gods. I guess I should consider myself lucky, because at first Athena wanted me to stay up here all year round, and trust me, you don’t want to stay up here all year round. Everyone who stayed beside the gods nonstop would either go insane or become as petty as them. And I sincerely can’t decide what might be worse.

Anyway, my apartment had a circular shape, like a Thòlos, although I preferred to think of it as a Monòpteros, the latter not being the direct definition of a Micaenean tomb.

The main walls were surrounded, on the outside, by a circle of twelve white marble columns, each of one bearing the vessel of a different Olympian. It was supposed to be some sort of protection (I didn’t dare to look into it), but to me it mostly seemed like each member of the gods’ Assembly had tried to claim a part of the house for themselves.

On the inside, it was much more cozy: the Central Room’s marble floor was enchanted so that it could appear like any type of pavement i could wish for, and most of the time it showed a forest soil filled to the brim with beautifully colored leaves, like the ones that fell from trees during Fall. As I walked through, however, I noticed that the floor was showing a different scene: sand. Beautiful golden sand, ad if I looked hard enough, I could even spot a seashell here and there. This made me smile. Christmas time was near, and with that, my homecoming was drawing closer at hand. I already felt nostalgic.

As I passed by, I waved my hand at the little girl who tended the fire, right in the middle of the room.

She somehow had the power to be everywhere and nowhere at the same time. She was right at the Heart of Olympus, in the Throne Room, to make sure that the gods got at least a bit along, and then she was in her own small temple in New Athens, where old campers could ask for guidance of just stop by to have a little chat. She was in Camp Half-Blood’s dining hall too, making sure that all offerings would be split up evenly among the gods.

Hestia wasn’t a difficult goddess, and she didn’t play favourites.

She simply took good care if the fires, and showed up wherever she felt like she was needed.

Since that day of almost eight years ago, when Athena brought me to Olympus with her, the goddess of the Heart stood by my side every single day.

When she didn’t respond to my greeting, I instantly knew something was wrong. Upon closer inspection, in became clear that something was bothering her. She was looking deep into the flames with a frowned expression. No, not just frowned. I knew that something else was happening, that she wasn’t simply looking at the flames, she was seeing straight trough them, as if they were some sort of holo-screen that let her browse for informations.

- Lady Hestia! - I called for her, managing to get her attention, if only briefly - Is everything all-right?

She looked at me wide eyed for a single second, and then she turned back to the fire.

- Oh, good morning dear… - she said with a soft voice that immediately warmed my heart - Yes, everything’s okay, why shouldn’t it be? Don’t worry, dear. Athena’s waiting for you.

She said nothing more, and focused back to the flames.

Don’t worry. As if. The thing about Hestia is that she is so genuinely kind that everyone among gods, demigods, and even some monsters, tends to grow quite fond of her. This means, obviously, that if Hestia has a problem, it becomes everyone’s problem. Because no-one, no-one, wants to see Hestia suffer.

As much as I wanted to help her, however, I figured that wouldn’t be of much aid if my grumpy granny turned me into dust for being late, so I headed for the bathroom.

As soon as I entered, she smell of saltiness spread through my nostrils, and I felt like I was standing right on the seashore. The bathroom’s walls were painted pearl-pink, with sea-green marble furniture. The style was a strange mashup of minimalism and ancient greek sculpture, which made the gods’ bas-relieves carved into the sides of the sink and the bath tub seem like strangely shaped stick-men. The scene of Stick-Apollo fighting Stick-Hercules over a tripod had ben carved right into the lower half of the toilet, and I was been pretty sure that it had been Artemis’ idea.

When I looked at the figure of Stick-Hercules, my brain sprung shortly back to life.

“That’s where you belong, you scumhead!”

Then it fell asleep again.

I flinched, and for a short instant my hands trembled. A familiar sense of headache pierced my head, as if I had just forgot something vital.

Then I shook my head, and the sensation was blown away like petals scattered by the wind.

Something moved at the side of my vision and I reacted faster than I could think. In the blink of an eye I found myself with one hand pressing against a girl’s neck, and the other closed in a fist, fully loaded with adrenaline and ready to strike right at her solar plexus.

- Oh my gods! - the girl squeaked, barely able to hide the rush of terror that had clearly taken her - Do you try to kill every maid that Lady Athena sends you!?

I blinked a couple of times, while my brain translated those words into informations. Then I paled, and let her go. I hadn’t even realised that I had pinned her against the wall.

- Oh my… I’m so, so sorry, I swear I didn’t mean to-

I tried to mutter some apologies, but she raised her hand to stop me, and released a long, shaky breath.

- No, no, that’s okay I guess. Lord Poseidon had warned me that you were quite the wild horse. I don’t know why I dared to expect to meet you in a different way.

When she named my godly grandfather, I took a step backwards and took a good look at her.

She was slightly taller than me, probably by an inch or two, and her skin was grey. She had wide eyes, perhaps a little bit too wide, and they were totally black. She was slim, athletic, with large shoulders and long, webbed fingers. Each of her nails was carefully painted with stylised images of fishes. She had long, kelp-like hair, although this specific type of kelp was bioluminescent and gleamed neon blue light.

She wore a simple blue chiton, and nothing more.

- A nereid - I guessed. A very strange nereid. But I kept the last part for myself.

- Yep.

After a moment of awkward silence, I extended my hand.

- I imagine you already know my name, but please, do not call me Achillea, nor M’Lady. Lea is good enough.

She studied my hand, probably wondering if it was poisoned or boobytrapped with invisible fart-trinkets, but then she shook it with some good energy.

- Ichtya. And don’t worry, I wasn’t planning on calling you M’Lady anyway.

After this first bizzarre encounter, Ichtya the fish nereid and I got to work. I made instantly clear that I was pretty capable of showering by myself and that, no, she didn’t need to clean my butt for me. What she could do, however, was to help me with the scheduling of the bathroom. It wasn’t much, just preparing my toothbrush while I was busy in the shower, putting my laundry right at hand’s reach while I dried myself… as I said, small things that gave me a few seconds of advantage.

- Thank you, really. - I said while she brushed my hair, a task that I was never capable of bringing myself to do.

Her cheeks assumed a slightly darker shade of grey.

- No need to thank me. - She said, but I could feel she had very much appreciated the gesture.

I took a moment to look at my reflection in the mirror: a blonde, sea-green eyed five and an half feet tall girl looked back at me. The girl’s lightly tanned skin, my skin, was full of old scars and bruises, and a sea of clear freckles spread around my nose and my shoulders. The fact that I could see them, even if with some difficult, made my mouth twitch. I looked at my athletic, slightly muscular body for a more few seconds, then I reached out to Ichtya.

She handed me the white, simple peplum, and helped me put it on. The fabric immediately shifted and began to change. The tickling sensation almost made me laugh again. And then I found myself wearing a pair of worn-out light grey jeans and a sleeveless blue T-shirt with a black hippocampus printed on it.

- Wow… - Ichtya whispered, amazed - You really wear these things on a daily basis?

- Uhh… yes? Why shouldn’t I?

She looked embarrassed.

- The only being I’ve ever seen wearing mortal clothes was Lord Poseidon, so I just thought… well…

She didn’t dare to finish the sentence, but she didn’t need too. I nodded sympathetically, imagining a world where everyone wore gross Hawaiian shirts and crocks. The thought alone made me shiver. The girl really needed some good shopping time. This was the least I could think of to restore her faith in humanity.

Then I remembered good old granny, and I left the nereid to her new duties.

Thank the gods I was very, very fast. A normal person would have needed at least thirty minutes to traverse the Olympian Gardens at full running speed. I jogged into the Throne Room in half the time, and yet when Athena looked up from the anatomy text she was reading, I knew that I still was about to get scolded.

- You’re late. - She said. And that was all. But she didn’t need to say anything else. Her cold voice had been harsh enough tor me to tremble before her. I nodded, trying not to look at her in the eyes, but it was impossible. They were like magnets.

As she got up from her throne, I gladly saw that she had changed: instead of the silly advertiser uniform, she now wore her usual sleeveless peplum, adorned with glittering gold edges.

Her stormy grey eyes were still fixed on me. She wore her raven hair down on her shoulders and her pale skin radiated a weak, cold light, that conferred her a certain holiness. If anyone saw me and her side to side, they would’ve never guessed that I was her daughter’s child. Athena looked young enough to be beautiful and old enough to be considered wise. I knew that gods existed in many planes of reality at once, and so that people could see them in totally different ways, but to me she looked like she was in her mid-thirties. An high-school teacher, perhaps. A very lethal high-school teacher.

I averted my eyes from her, and glanced around.

Hestia took care of the Heart, but aside from her, and us, the room was completely empty. As Athena advanced in my direction, her form shrank, until she was about the same size of a normal young woman. She reached her hand out.

I gulped, and then I took it.

Her light blinded me, and the next second we were standing in front of the Bestiarium, the chamber of beasts and monsters. One of the strange additions of my mother’s design, after the Second Titan War.

- Why? - I asked.

- Lesson One. - The goddess replied, before pointing at the enormous bronze doors that towered before us.

They must have been at least sixty feet high, and were adorned from top to bottom with figures of monsters and other mythological creatures. Unlike the ones in my bathrooms, these bas-relieves were so realistic that I almost feared the hellhound would detach from the doors and launch itself straight at me.

- Lesson One? What does it mean?!

The doors opened soundlessly, and the goddess of wisdom escorted me inside.

- It means - she said as we passed through a corridor that was as large as a football field and seemed to have no end - that you will be sixteen soon, Hatchling, and as soon as you age properly, you’ll have to get your godly license.

- My what?!

- Your godly driving license. - She explained, while we walked past one of the cages. The Hydra inside raised her fourteen heads and looked at us, then she went back to sleep.

Athena kept talking.

- Every god has one. Without it, we would be legally restricted from performing air travel, or flying around the world with our godly mounts. Demigods usually do not need it, because they never fly that high, and there is only that much speed that a pegasus can take, but there have been certain… cases… when we had to make an exception.

She then fixed her eyes on me, and I squirmed uncomfortably under her gaze. She kept staring, as if she truly believed that I could give her the names. We walked in silence for another minute, while I tried to remember some of these so called ‘cases’.

- Uhmm… - I said at last - … Phaethon?

Athena nodded.

- That guy was a total mess. - She recalled - He tried to drive the Sun Chariot even before we could give him his first class. You have no idea of how enraged Zeus was when he saw that punk on the heavenly roads.

- Phaethon was a son of Helios, right? - I asked - He set the sky ablaze and created the Milky Way.

- And my father blasted him out of the skies with one of his Bolts. Helios was fired and Selene resigned in protest, and the chariots were inherited by the twins. That - Athena said - had been a very messed up week.

- Anyone else that you remember? - She asked.

I frowned, and then a name came up in my mind. Yes, obvious. It was one of the most famous stories.

- That guy with Pegasus. The one that slew the first Chimera. The one that murdered Bellero, king of Corynth, and took his throne.

Athena’s lips curved slightly upward, and she nodded in agreement.

- His true name was Hipponoos, but people still remember him as Bellerophon, ‘Bellero’s Murderer’. He was one of mine, you know. I gave him the license myself. He was intelligent, knowledgeable. He became a worldwide known hero, who even managed to tame Pegasus himself. He could have lived as a king, but his hybris got the hold of him. His arrogance drove him to think that he could reach the gods, that he could fly even higher than us. Father didn’t like that, and neither did I.

She didn’t need to tell any further for me to know how the poor guy met his demise.

I recalled that one time when Grandpa Poseidon held a meeting with the immortal lord of horses: Pegasus had strange, long scar lines all’over his hide, that reminded me a lot of lightning streaks. Now I knew how he got them.

We walked side by side, and I listened to the many stories she told me. It felt less like a lecture and more like a deep dive into the clean waters of the past. Her tales flooded my mind: tales of demigods and mortals who dreamed of the stars, and tried to reach them in so many ways.

She told me of the first hot-hair balloon, of the Wright brothers and of Leonardo’s tragic attempt at rebuilding Dedalus’ wings. She told me of long dead children and of many former lovers of hers.

Then we stopped.

- Here we are - I heard her say - hi Glaux, long time no see, huh?

[END OF CHAPTER 1]

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[thetravelerwrites]

Akjan (Finale)

Rating: Explicit Relationship: Female Human/Male Orc Additional Tags: Exophilia, Monster Boyfriend, Orc HusbandForced Marriage, Trial Marriage, Reader Insert Content Warnings: Sold Into Marriage, Illegitimate Child, Execution, Domestic Abuse, Suicide Mention, Rape Mention, Sex, Oral Sex Words: 7243

With a battle looming in the near future, the reader becomes desperate to avoid bloodshed and makes an impulsive move that could earn her a severe punishment. Please reblog and leave feedback!

The Traveler's Masterlist

The atmosphere around the stronghold was getting tenser by the day, and your guilt mounted every time you saw how many people crammed into the main hall for each meal. Children ended up having to eat on the floor against the walls, as there was barely enough room on the tables for the adults, let alone the children. There was enough food in the reserves to last for months, since the one thing strongholds were designed for was to defend against war and invasions, but it didn’t change the fact that all of this was your fault. 

If you had done a better job of convincing Akjan, if you had stuck it out for the year and managed to gain Akjan’s affections, you could have solved all of this without the battle. You knew it was unlikely, considering his position in the stronghold, but if you had been as pretty or as smart as one of your sisters, you might have pulled it off. But you weren’t. You weren’t pretty, you weren’t smart, you weren’t lucky. You were a burden to everyone around you, you knew that, and it was all the worse because you couldn’t do anything to change it.

It was the day Akjan got word that the count’s army was a week out from the stronghold, marching steadily toward it, that you snapped. You couldn’t let this happen. All the count wanted was his deal, right? One horse would be enough. It didn’t matter if the horse was male or female, as long as he got one of the horses. 

Being the servant of a nobleman who bred horses, you had some knowledge about how to care for and groom them. You’d only ridden one once when you were thirteen, when a stablehand gave you a lesson in exchange for sneaking him some sweets from the kitchen for his daughter’s birthday. It was enough for a single ride out of the stronghold, at least.

Late that night, when the bunkhouse was still and quiet, you got up from the cot you were sharing with your new sister and left everything, except for the cloak Akjan had made and a pack of hardtack and water you’d secreted away while working in the kitchens. You wished you’d had the chance to say goodbye to your mother, but you hoped she’d understand. She was finally happy, and you would protect that happiness, even if you had to sacrifice your own. 

One thing you were good at, at least, was moving quietly without being seen, since staff in the count’s house were taught to be neither seen nor heard, as if they weren’t there. As such, you moved through the stronghold, ducking around the guards, and made the short run between the stronghold and the horse ranch. The ranch itself was not inside the stronghold proper, but it was connected through a specially crafted below-ground tunnel under the main hall. Since there was a degree of trust inside the stronghold, the trapdoor that led to the tunnel wasn’t locked or guarded. You imagined that might change now. 

A ten minute walk through the tunnel led you to the ranch’s trapdoor, though you had to be careful, since you weren’t sure where it led or if it would be locked. Thankfully, it wasn’t locked, but it led into the cellar of the ranch house, which was latched from the outside and you couldn’t get it open, at least without drawing attention from whoever was in the house. 

However, there was a small crawl space accessible from the cellar, likely because the cellar was built before the house and they hadn’t accounted for the difference in size, that led out to under the porch of the house that you were able to squeeze your body into. It was closed off by a metal panel screwed into the boards to keep out animals, but it didn’t take long for you to be able to wrench it off of the boards. Conscientiously, you replaced the panel when you got out.

You were now in the ranch’s front yard, and you could see the stable in the distance. Not all of the horses were in the stables; two of the mares had gotten pregnant out of season by the very smug stallion looking out at you from the enclosed paddock, and they were being kept away from the other mares to prevent them from going into heat. 

Perfect, you thought. Two for the price of one. And the price was… well… theft. You hoped one day you’d have a chance to repay the stronghold for everything. You weren’t sure how you could repay this… betrayal was the only word you could think of… but if you survived long enough, you’d find a way if you could.

You went to the stable and grabbed a basic halter, lead, and a riding blanket. You went out under the moonlight and chose the most docile one, a pretty palomino. It wouldn’t be to the count’s taste, as he preferred the flashy horses that made good first impressions, but you would take what you could handle and the count would just have to settle for it. 

She stood still and obedient as you adjusted the halter and threw on the blanket, then you led her to the fence, opened it, led her out, and then closed it behind you. Using the railing to climb up, you settled on her back, feeling a little off balance, and started toward the road at a trot. There was another gate down the pathway that you had to dismount to open, but finally you were out of the stronghold and on your way back to your awful father. 

The count would likely follow the main road so that everyone would see him and his army marching, so you'd just have to follow the road and you'd run into him eventually. You knew he would want everyone to know what he was doing, wanting people to be impressed and awestruck by his prowess, so he would be as loud and flashy as possible. He only had a couple dozen personal knights of his own, so he likely borrowed a few hundred from nobles he was friendly with, seeing as he was going against a stronghold that was more than 300 strong, all of whom were trained to fight as soon as they were old enough to hold a short sword. 

The sun rose a few hours later, and you were growing tired since you hadn’t slept, but you wanted to get more distance between you and the stronghold before you stopped for rest. You planned on riding until at least midday before resting, since you were sure no one would notice you were gone until at least then. Honestly, you expected they’d notice the horse was gone before they noticed your absence. You weren’t sure what the punishment for horse stealing was in the stronghold, but at the count’s estate, you knew it included forty lashes and the cutting off of one or both hands, and you’d prefer to avoid that. 

Mid-morning, however, you heard the hoof falls of a horse running quite fast and you looked behind you. Some distance away, you saw Akjan, alone, on an absolutely massive black and white shire horse, barreling toward you at a quick pace. Panicked, you kicked the mare into a gallop and urged her to move as fast as she was able. You weren’t sure why you thought that was a good idea; there was no way that you were going to outrun that big juggernaut of a steed Akjan was riding, but you supposed you weren’t thinking clearly. 

It took mere minutes for Akjan to catch up, and he reached over and yanked the lead out of your hands, slowing both horses to a stop. 

“What the hell were you thinking?!” He roared at you. "Have you lost your mind?!"

“He just wants the horse!” You cried. “You can’t put everyone at the stronghold in danger over a horse!”

“Is that your decision to make?” He asked, incensed. “Do you think I decided such a thing lightly? Do you think this is really about one horse?”

"What else would it be about?"

He swore and took several heavy breaths, as if he had been the one running. “If we give this count what he wants the first time he shows any amount of aggression, will it stop with a single horse? What of other nobles who get it into their heads that they can march right up to our door and demand whatever they want? Must we go to war with anyone who wants what we have? Must we lay down and allow them to walk over us and take what they like, to avoid a battle? Is that what you expect?”

You were quiet. You knew he was right. 

“I had to do something,” You said in desperation. “All of this is my fault.” 

“How could this be your fault?” 

“The entire stronghold and the town is in danger because of me,” You said. “Because I didn’t do what I was supposed to do.”

“And what was that? Seduce me? Change my mind about selling the horses? That was impossible from the start; I can’t even make that decision on my own. The horses belong to the stronghold, not me. I can’t authorize the sale of the breeding horses without a vote. That’s stronghold business, so the entire stronghold has to agree. We’ve held a vote for this very thing several times, and it was vetoed every time. You couldn’t have gotten me to agree to the deal because I am not capable of making it.” 

“Why didn’t you tell him that from the beginning?” 

“Is it any of his business how our stronghold conducts its affairs? No! If we said we’re not selling, the reason shouldn’t matter! The word 'No' should be enough! He’s not getting the deal, and that’s the end of it!”

“Then I should go back to the count, shouldn’t I?” You said in exasperation. “If what you said is true, then I’m of no use to you. I never was! You never had a reason to protect me. You can take me back to the count, and return to the stronghold with the horse, and the problem will be solved.”

“You think I came after you because of the horse?!” He shouted. “This has nothing to do with the goddamned horses! You are my people! We protect our people!” 

“I’m not!” You said. “I’m not your people anymore! You burned the marriage contract, so we aren’t even married! I’m of no use to you! I’m of no use to anyone! I have no value to anyone other than as goods to be traded!” 

“That’s bullshit!” He said. “Are you not a person? Have you no pride or self-worth? Are you not a thinking, breathing human being with much to offer?” 

“I’m nothing!” You shouted back, tears falling down your cheeks. “I’m no one! I’m not worth putting hundreds of people at risk. I’m not even worth the horse I’m sitting on! I’m nothing to no one!” 

“Are you not a daughter to your mother, if nothing else?” He asked, his voice still irate but softening. 

“She doesn’t need me!” You said. “She’s finally happy. I was a child she never wanted and had to raise against her will! She would have been better off if I’d never been born! So would you! I shouldn’t even exist! Isn’t it better for everyone if I leave?”

“It’s not better for you,” He protested. 

“It doesn’t matter what’s better for me,” You replied. “I’m no one. I’m not even worth your anger.”

It was the first time since you learned of your parentage that you realized this, or perhaps that you allowed yourself to think about it. It was true: you shouldn’t exist. You were the result of a terrible assault that your mother suffered, and you were a daily reminder of that trauma. You were her trauma incarnated. You were the fruit of the worst thing that ever happened to her. The thought that so many people were in harm’s way because of someone, something, like you… it made you sick.

You felt empty. You were still crying, but not out of sadness or anger. You weren’t even really sure why you were crying, because you couldn’t feel anything besides cold. 

“We’re going back, My Lady,” He said quietly. 

“Stop calling me that,” You replied. "I'm not a lady. I never was."

Without a word, he turned both of the horses and began the plod back to the stronghold. You hung your head and wept next to him, and he said nothing.

You arrived back at the stronghold just before dark, and your frantic mother ran forward, throwing her arms around you. When you didn’t join her in the kitchens that morning, she’d known something was off. According to her, Akjan left immediately when he learned you couldn’t be found. They didn’t even know one of the horses was missing until Akjan found you riding it. 

From that moment on, Akjan didn’t let you out of his sight. He tied your wrist to his at every moment, only allowing you to bathe and go to the privy without him, though he had a woman of the stronghold accompany you and keep watch in case you attempted to flee again. He took you to every meeting of the chieftain’s council and you slept next to him in the longhouse. He didn’t say much to you other than to insist you eat, as you’d lost your appetite since returning, and to say goodnight and good morning. He hadn’t mentioned what your punishment would be, but you assumed he was too busy preparing for the invasion to be concerned about it and that it would come when the dust settled.

The day the army was to arrive, all of the adult orcs and many of the adult non-orc spouses put on armor and began forming ranks outside of the stronghold. They needed no direction to do this; war drills were a normal part of life in the stronghold, so everyone knew their roles inside and out and required no direction. The children, elderly, and women who couldn’t fight were taken to the fortified underground bunker at the very back of the stronghold, near the forest wall. 

Except for you, that is. You were taken to the house your mother shared with Rourke by the “harem” and your stepsister, and outfitted with a soft, fine, deep green wool gown, a chain mail shirt, leather breastplate, leather bracers on your forearms, and your fur-lined cloak to complete the outfit. Your hair was pulled back and braided elaborately with beads and semi-precious stones, and a silver circlet was placed on your brow. You were led to the mirror and couldn’t believe what you saw: you looked like a warrior queen from those old legends you’d heard the elders liked to tell at dinnertime in the main hall. 

“Is she ready?” Akjan asked. He was waiting outside. 

“Come in and see, Akjan,” Erin said. 

Akjan opened the door and came inside, stopping short when he caught sight of you, slack-jawed. You blushed under his gaze. 

“Perfect,” He said in a low undertone. “She’s perfect.” 

Your blush deepened and you turned away. 

“Ah,” He said suddenly. “Almost perfect. She’s missing something.” He came forward and reached around your waist, inside your cloak, and you leaned back, flustered. You looked down, and saw him fastening a belt with a short sword on your hips.

“There," He said, satisfied.

"Am I going to be fighting?" You asked anxiously.

"Oh, gods, no. This is just presentation."

"Then why do I need the armor?"

"Better safe than sorry. It's better to prepare for things that could happen and don't than to be surprised. Now, come on,” He said, holding out his hand for yours. “The army is just a few hours away. We should greet them, should we not?” 

You took his hand and he led you out to the stronghold’s gate, up the ladder, and the two of you stood in the center of the walking bridge over the gate. Outside of the gate, were all of the soldiers from the stronghold and many of the men of the town, standing in groups of twenty, two groups to a column, four columns to a row, spaced in three equal stations side-by-side. They were still and quiet, like statues. 

“Warriors!” Akjan called out, his voice and presence a command in and of itself, and every soldier raised their weapon in salute. “Our people are threatened! How do we answer!”

“WITH RAGE!” They responded. They were so loud that many birds were expelled from the trees. 

“Our home is under siege! How do we answer!” 

“WITH HATRED!” 

“Our loved ones are endangered! How do we answer!”

“WITH DEATH!”

“Against whom do we spit our rage!”

“THE ENEMY!”

“Upon whom do we unleash our hate!”

“THE ENEMY!”

“Upon whom will we rain death!” 

“THE ENEMY!”

“Let them know our resolve! Death!” 

“DEATH!”

“Death!”

“DEATH!” 

“Call out to the enemy! Call them to their death!” 

The soldiers roared, the sound deafening. The spearmen brought down their spears, thumping a rhythm against the ground. The others beat the rhythm against their armor, and they began to chant, a gruff and threatening sound. The chant was in Orcish and you couldn’t understand what they were saying, but you were certain it was violent. You imagined any opposing forces that heard it would soil their trousers.

“Akjan,” You called over the noise. “Why am I here?” 

“You’re here to show him how much better off you are, how much more happy and treasured you are. Nothing will piss him off more than knowing you don’t need him. Standing above him like this won’t make him very happy, either.”

He had a point. From the height where you were standing, you could see movement on the horizon. As they approached closer and closer, the chanting grew louder and louder, punctuated with roars and growls and hissing. 

At a certain point, you saw the count riding at the front of the procession, and your eyes met. Instinctively, you lowered your gaze.

“Oi,” Akjan said, and you looked up at him. “Why are you looking down, eh? You’re the daughter of a count and the wife of a chieftain, which makes you nothing less than a queen, as far as he knows. You don’t lower your eyes to anyone. Not even me.” 

You smiled for the first time in days. “Alright.” 

“Head up, shoulders back, spine straight. Look down your nose at him, the same way he’s done to you. He’s nothing more than muck on your boot.”

You did as he told you, squaring your shoulders and tilting your chin up.

“You’re doing well, My Lady,” He said. He leaned in close and whispered in your ear, “I’m proud of you. Be proud of yourself.”

You felt tears prick your eyes, but you held them back.

“I told you not to call me that,” You said to him. 

“Try to stop me,” He said with a grin and a wink. It startled a laugh out of you. “Ah, that’s better. I’ve missed that surprised laugh of yours this past week. Your face has been dark and empty recently. It’s made me anxious.”

 You felt a blush creep up your neck and you struggled not to look down and away. He took your hand and wrapped it around his arm. 

The small army finally reached the clearing outside of the stronghold’s gates and filed outward. You saw immediately that they were outnumbered by the orc legion by far, but they lined up in such a way as to make it look like their ranks were larger than they were. You had to admit, it looked as if they were well-trained, but training alone would not make up for the severe disadvantage at which they stood. You could see by the insignia on their armor and the different colors that the men had been borrowed from quite a few nobles, and you felt bad that these men would likely die for something that didn’t involve them.

The chanting carried on for a few minutes after the opposing army took their positions. Akjan called out in Orcish, and the orc army went quiet and still once more. The sound of the chanting had scared away most of the birds and wildlife around the stronghold, so now that the noise had stopped, it was deathly, eerily quiet. 

“Chief Akjan!” The count called out. “Come out and parlay with me if you wish to avoid bloodshed!”

“No, I don’t think I will!” Akjan called back. “I like the view from here!” 

“You have lied to me and stolen my property!” Count Renard said. “Your cowardice knows no end!” 

“I have a vastly different idea of what constitutes cowardice, Count Renard!” Akjan said. “Regarding your own child as property and selling her for a horse while holding her mother hostage seems more like cowardice to me!” 

“She’s mine to do with as I wish!” The count snapped back. “As are my servants! You are guilty of theft!” 

“I am guilty of giving shelter to your victims!” Akjan retorted. “Both of whom are adults and under no obligation to obey you! What you’re describing is slavery! To my knowledge, enslaving your own family and a member of the nobility is against your people’s laws, is it not? Is not the very act of forcing her to marry me illegal in the eyes of your people?” 

A murmur went through the count’s forces, and you were startled to realize he was right. It was illegal for anyone of noble birth to allow their children to marry or sell their children into marriage with someone who was not nobility, regardless of legitimacy. If Akjan had at least a baronial title, it would have been perfectly acceptable for you to marry him, but since he had no such title, the mere act of offering you to Akjan for marriage was against the gentry laws, and since Count Renard was the party pushing for the marriage, he was the culpable party. The only reason you knew this was because a duke friend of Count Renard’s had been fined quite a lot of money when he allowed his daughter to elope with a horseman. It completely slipped your mind that the law included you, because you never thought of yourself as nobility.

“Silence!” The count shouted, and the knights became still. “Are you not also guilty of violating this law?”

“Orcs are not subject to the laws of your people, Count! Strongholds are regarded as independent nations, as you well know!” Akjan retorted. “You have invaded my lands illegally, and therefore it is well within my rights to take any recompense I wish!” Akjan said. “You will have no protection from your king if you continue! I can strike you down this instant with complete impunity, if I choose!” 

“Nonsense!” The count spat. “I am of noble birth! Any violence committed against me will be avenged!” 

Akjan reached into his vest and produced a large scroll and unrolled it. You had no idea what it said, but you recognized the royal seal immediately.

“‘Let it be known, by order of the King, should Count Justice Renard raise a hand against the stronghold of Willowshield and its people, he shall forfeit his life to them. Willowshield will not be held in contempt of the crown, nor will they have committed a crime any greater than the crime committed against them, for defending their people against Count Justice Renard, and we shall have no ill will for them in doing so. Signed this day by Grand Duke Leonidas, ruler of the Leonidas Duchy and the city of Dunmountain.’” 

Akjan rerolled the scroll and threw it down so that the Count could read it himself. The count ordered one of his soldiers to retrieve it and read it, his face becoming pale. He looked up and around him, searching for a way out of the pit he had dug for himself.

“How did you get that?” You asked Akjan in an undertone. 

“I sent the Grand Duke the marriage contract that outlined the terms the count had agreed upon, plus testimonials from members of the count’s household. The evidence was pretty iron-clad. If he had just stopped at selling you off, it would have only cost him some money, but since he marched on the stronghold because of an illegal deal, he’s no longer afforded the protection nobles enjoy against retaliation. And, since he’s borrowed knights from other nobles, he’s also implicated them in an illegal deal, so I’m absolutely certain those nobles will want nothing to do with him anymore.” Akjan snorted. “I can only guess he was banking on the assumption that, as an orc, I wouldn’t know the laws of the crown. It’s too bad for him that I am capable of reading and I’m not a moron.” 

You snickered. 

“Soldiers!” Akjan called, addressing the knights. “You have been lied to and marched here under false pretenses! You may all walk free if you surrender the count for retribution!”

The count spun in panic as several of the knights advanced on him. Knights relied heavily on their code of honor, you knew, and the fact that they had been tricked into participating in an illegal invasion was likely something that angered them. 

“Rourke,” Akjan said. Rourke was in the watchtower with a strung bow at the ready. “Collect him for me, yes?” 

Rourke grinned and nodded, unstringing his bow and heading down the ladder. The soldiers parted to allow Rourke through to the count, who was being held in place by his own knights, and Rourke punched the count hard enough to knock him out. Rourke slung the count over his shoulder and took him inside the stronghold to the longhouse. 

“Men,” Akjan called once more. “Your journey has made you tired. If you bear us no ill will, I invite you to come in for food, drink, and rest.”

The knights glanced at each other, uncertain of what to do. 

“Come on!” Called one of the orcs in the front lines. “I’m tired of standing in formation and I’m hungry. Do you folks stop eating when you become knights? What does honor taste like?” 

There was a wave of laughter that broke the tension, and the knights started forward toward the gates. Several of the orcs went out and helped them bring in their equipment carts and unhook their beasts of burden, leading them to the temporary stables just inside the walls. 

Once the news that the battle was canceled, townspeople began to pack up and head home to Willowridge. As a result, there was more than enough room for the troops to rest around the stronghold. Janiek went out to fetch your mother, and she met you outside of the longhouse. 

“What happened?” She asked anxiously. “Was there a fight? Is Rourke alright?” 

“He’s fine, Mother,” Janiek said. “We’ve got a present for you.” 

Inside of the longhouse was Akjan, Rourke, a knight you knew was the captain of the count’s knights, and the count himself. He was awake, but his face was bloodied. He had been stripped of his armor and was wearing only his trousers. His arms were bound behind his back and he was gagged, and the knight had his boot on the count's back, preventing him from standing.

Your mother let out a shuddering breath of fear. Rourke immediately went to your mother upon seeing her panic and held her. 

“It’s alright, my love,” He said soothingly. “He’s at our mercy and he can’t hurt you. We wanted to ask what you’d like to do with him. He’s wronged you the worst, so you can decide.” 

“The penalty for rape is death in the stronghold,” Akjan said. “And there is no statute of limitations. You are a member of the stronghold, and any offense committed against you is an offense committed against the stronghold. However, the ultimate punishment is determined by the victim. It’s only fair: it’s not like he asked you what you wanted.” 

Your mother shook and looked a bit cornered. “I don’t know,” She whispered. 

Rourke took her face in his hands and pressed his forehead against hers. “I’ll take care of it, alright? You just say the word and I’ll take care of it. Whatever you want.” 

She put her hands on his chest and took a deep breath. “I don’t ever want to see him again.” 

“Understood,” He said softly. He gave her a kiss and had Janiek lead her outside. 

“Are you going to stay or go?” Akjan asked you. 

You looked at the count glaring at you from the ground. “I’ll stay.” 

Akjan nodded and handed Rourke a broadsword. 

“You’ve got no objections?” Akjan asked the knight. 

He shook his head. “No, Chief. I’ve spent twenty years sacrificing my own honor for his. This seems fitting. I’ll be a witness and take the report to the Grand Duke.”

“Very well.” Akjan came up to stand behind you and put his hands on your arms, rubbing them up and down soothingly. “Rourke.” 

Rourke nodded, stepped up to the count, who was struggling, and raised the broadsword, swinging it downward swiftly. The blade cut cleanly through the bones and sinew of the count’s neck, and his head fell forward, his body hitting the ground with a thump.

You felt the bile rise in your throat, and you covered your mouth with your hand. 

“Chuck him on the rubbish pyre,” Akjan said. “With the rest of the garbage.” 

Rourke nodded, and the knight, after giving you a respectful bow, assisted Rourke in gathering up the count’s body for disposal. You felt faint and your knees were buckling. Akjan noticed and put his arm around you. 

“Come on, My Lady,” He said. “Let’s sit you down somewhere quiet.” 

Akjan led you to his cabin, which had been cleared out by then. The fire had burned down to embers, but Akjan threw some wood on it and stoked it back to life, then he sat you at the table and pulled your cloak and belt off. He dipped a cloth in water, knelt in front of you, and began wiping your pallid face. 

“Are you alright?” He asked.

“I think so,” You said. He handed you a cup of water and helped you to sip. Your hands were shaking too much to be able to hold the cup steady.   

“You did a good job, My Lady,” Akjan said with a smile. “You found some bravery in that small body of yours. How did it feel?” 

“Terrifying,” You said with a nervous laugh. “But… it also felt good. I didn’t know I had any.” 

He smiled softly at you. “Of course you did. It was brave of you to take that mare and leave the stronghold by yourself, even if it was also stupid.” 

You snorted. 

“So…” He said. “It’s over now. You don’t have to worry about the count anymore. What do you think you’ll do? Will you stay in the stronghold or move on?” 

“I have no idea,” You said. “I haven’t had the room in my head to give much thought to what would happen when this was over. Honestly, I wasn’t expecting a good outcome, so I’m sort of astounded at present. I'm just happy it ended without bloodshed. Well, innocent bloodshed."

He hummed, smiling. “Well, one thing I know for sure, stepping down is going to be a lot of work. I need to get started right away if I’m going to get it all done before the end of winter.” 

Your head snapped up. “Step down? You mean from being chieftain? Why?” 

From where he was kneeling before you, he raised his hand up and brushed your cheek with his knuckles. 

“Because I want to get married,” He said softly. 

Your mouth fell open and you stared at him in shock. “To who?” 

He laughed at you, incredulous, and leaned forward to press his lips to yours. You inhaled the scent of his skin as he kissed you, and threw your arms around his neck. You felt that need, the one you felt the last time you kissed him, flaring up in your body again, and you pressed yourself against him. He lifted you from the seat and you wrapped your legs around his waist as he stood up straight and carried you to his pallet of furs. 

His hands touched your body gently over your clothes, pinching your small breasts through the dress, and you gasped. One of his hands reached down and drew up the hem of your dress, but he stopped suddenly.

“Are you sure about this?” He asked breathlessly, his eyes searching your face. “You didn’t even answer my question.” 

“You didn’t ask a question,” You pointed out. 

He snorted. “You have a point.” He knelt up between your legs, looking down at you where you lay on his bed, and touched your face. “Will you marry me, My Lady?”

“Yes, Chief Akjan,” You replied with a wide smile. He grinned and wasted no time in pulling the dress over your head. Next went the chemise and your small clothes, leaving you bare on the furs. 

“Gods, you’re so beautiful,” He breathed as he came back down on you, kissing down the center of your chest, sucking your entire breast into his mouth and teasing your nipples with his tongue. “I love how a blush looks on your skin. I’ve always wondered if the rest of your body gets as pink as your face.”

You squealed and squirmed a little under him, feeling the throb between your legs. He reached down and touched your slit, drawing a single finger up and down slowly. You moaned slightly, tilting your hips up in response to his touch. He crawled down your body to the apex of your legs and pressed his tongue to your pearl, and you cried out, your thighs twitching. Akjan held your thighs wide open as he sucked your core, and you gripped his hair, riding out the sensations. He inserted one of his large fingers inside you and rubbed it against the inner wall, and the sweet, hot feeling made your back arch involuntarily. You felt the wash of ecstasy overtake you, and you moaned over and over.

He kissed his way back up your body, undoing his belt and shedding leather. Eventually, he was as nude as you, and he kissed you, tangling his tongue with yours. 

“I am quite large,” He said, kissing your collarbone. “And you are very small, so this will hurt, I’m afraid. I’ll be as gentle as I can be.” 

“It’s alright,” You said, kissing him. “I trust you.” 

He smiled softly and petted your hair, pressing his forehead against yours. He reached between your bodies and led his cock toward your entrance, pressing himself firmly against it.

“Take a deep breath, My Lady,” He said silkily, and you complied. As you exhaled, he clenched hard enough to pop the head inside you. He was right, it was painful, but it was tolerable. You’d heard horror stories from other maids about their first time and it had done a lot to ensure your celibacy until that point. Your breath stuttered as he thrust gently into you, a little more of his length entering you with each thrust. 

“Breathe, My Lady,” He whispered into your hair. “Deep breaths.” He reached down to tease your bud again, and the pleasure overtook the pain in a way that pushed it into the background. It was still there, but you were more focused on what felt good rather than what felt bad. You tried hard to breathe the way he instructed, but it was becoming harder to regulate the breathing between the moans and whimpering. He held you close as he finally seated the full length of his cock inside you, and became still for a moment, kissing you deeply and caressing your face. You could feel the tip of him pressing against your stomach from the inside.

“I love you,” He whispered against your skin. Your breath stuttered again, and you felt the tears in your eyes. He saw them and kissed the corner of your eyes. “I hope these are happy tears.” 

You laughed and nodded, sniffling. “Yes. Very happy. I love you, too, Akjan.” 

He kissed you tenderly and began to move again, slowly and sweetly. One of the things he always joked about was that he didn’t know the meaning of the word “gentle,” but there was no way that could be true: the gentleness he showed you caused you to tear up constantly. 

The pain subsided to pinching, and your tense body relaxed more. He was very perceptive; he began to speed up when he felt the tension ease out of your body. Propping himself up on his hands, he kissed your shoulders and neck, teasing your earlobe with his tongue as he thrust in and out, and you moaned in time with the movement of his body. 

You clung to him as he thrust into you, feeling the pressure in your body rising again, though it was tempered why the discomfort of having his large cock inside of you. He sat up between your legs and put your buttocks in his lap, thrusting inside you and rubbing your clit in circles. Your cries intensified, and you gripped his wrists as he hit that delicious spot inside you, your eyes closed and your mouth open. 

The wave crashed into you, wiping out all thought in your head. He grunted as you came and slowed down. 

“You’re squeezing me so hard in there,” He said. “Does it feel good?” 

You couldn’t speak, but you nodded. 

“Want to feel good again?”

You nodded again. 

He sped up once more, rubbing your clit frantically, and you felt a gush of fluid down your thighs and buttocks with the next rush of pleasure. He groaned, covered your body with his, and slapped himself against you. It was a little painful again, but you didn’t mind it. You felt him throbbing and pulsing inside you, and he came hard, grunting over and over, filling you with his warmth. He slowed to a stop and held himself up on his elbows over you, still inside you, and pressed his forehead against your chest as he caught his breath. 

After a few minutes, he pulled out of you and sat back on his heels, looking at your body, splayed out on the furs, with a smile.

“Why are you staring at me?” You asked him.

“Because my wife is so gorgeous, I can’t help but stare at her.” 

You covered your face with your hands to hide the blush.

“Ah, you’re turning pink again,” He said, laughing. “Your chest and shoulders turn a fetching shade of rose, did you know that?”

"Don't!" You squealed.

He chuckled and came down over you to kiss you deep and slow. “Hey, will you do something for me?” He asked.

“Of course.” 

“Can you rebraid my hair? Make it fancy. I want everyone to know I’m betrothed. Plain braids are for the unmarried folks, you know.” 

“I’ll do it when I get feeling back in my legs,” You said. He laughed and lay down next to you, pulling you into his arms. 

“People will come looking for us if we don’t show up for dinner,” He said, toying with a lock of your hair. 

“Hmm,” You said, snuggling into his body. “We have enough time for a nap, then.”

He laughed and enclosed you in his arms, sighing contentedly.

It only took two months for the stronghold to decide on a new chieftain and Akjan was able to step down with very few issues. The new chieftain’s first act was to marry you and Akjan. Akjan was well loved, so the wedding was just as big as the wedding your mother had during the preparation for the siege, with several folks from Willowridge and places beyond in attendance. Your mother was over the moon that you and Akjan were marrying, as she had worried for your future if you were expelled from the stronghold. With that fear allayed, she was more than happy to celebrate. 

Your mother became pregnant before you, which wasn’t surprising, as she was still in her child-bearing years, and she was overjoyed to be having Rourke’s baby. Rourke was beside himself with delight, and Janiek celebrated by making her younger sibling their very first sword.

At some point during the pregnancy, you sat your mother down and asked if she regretted giving birth to you. She looked stricken and asked if that was what you believed, that she didn’t want you, and you reluctantly admitted that you did. She took you in her arms and held you, telling you that your birth had saved her life, as she had been contemplating ending it all before learning she was with child. At first, she was horrified, but she told you that having you gave her a reason to live and a reason to keep moving forward. She told you that if it hadn’t been for you, not only would she not be married and having this second child, but that she likely wouldn’t be alive at all. She thanked you for being born, and you thanked her for loving you, and the two of you cried in each other's arms.

Your little brother, Rakja, was born the next autumn, and by then you were pregnant with Akjan’s child. Akjan fussed over you, worrying about how small and delicate you were compared to how large orc children got, and while it was inconvenient at times, you allowed yourself to be fussed over. It was nice to be doted on. 

“I wonder what’s happened to the count’s estate,” You asked one day the next spring. You were ready to pop any day now, and Akjan had forbidden you from getting up until the little one arrived unless absolutely necessary. 

“As far as I know, it’s been absorbed into the Grand Duke’s duchy,” Akjan said, slicing an apple for you. “The countess and her children have taken refuge at her parent’s estate. As far as I know, her children will have no inheritance.” He looked at you. “Do you feel bad for them?” 

You shrugged. “I feel bad for Justice Jr. He was just a baby. Hopefully he’ll grow up different from his father.” 

“One can hope,” Akjan asked, hand feeding you. “Perhaps it’s for the best that the county was dissolved. I wonder how the crown would feel if they knew there was going to be an orc who had a claim to the title.” He gestured to your belly. 

You snickered. “I’m glad we won’t have to find out. That would have been a mess, I’m sure.” You leaned forward and kissed him. “Can you help me up? I have to pee again.” 

He laughed good-naturedly and lifted you to your feet without effort. “As you wish, My Lady.”

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My Masterlist

The Exophilia Creator’s Masterlist

[ismaet]

Housekid AU Part 3

Part 1 here

Part 2 here

Idea: Casita raises Mirabel

Perspective shift

Mirabel was the first to break. Again.

She had been making Kuya Mariano a looser shirt (his Guard training was giving him so much muscle it's getting ridiculous) one afternoon, finishing off the last of the adaptation stitches (she loved making him new clothes but repairing the arms everyday was such an annoyance) along with some cleaning ones, when the 13 year old himself strolled into the sewing room holding two cups of Chocolate Santafereño.

He sat down beside her with a heavy thud, then whistled in appreciation at the elaborate bucks prancing on flower paths stitched in a beautiful asymmetric pattern from the shirt's shoulders down to the waist.

"Ay, Miraposita! You're getting better everyday!" He smiled, offering her one of the cups as he gently ran his fingers over the finished parts of the embroidery. "It's so cool!"

Maybe it was the sweet smell of the drink, maybe it was the soothing tiredness that came with accomplishing a task, or maybe it was the genuine appreciation in his tone for her work- Mirabel will never know.

"You really think so, hermano?"

Not missing a beat- because he's big old, adorably dumb, supportive and caring Mariano -the older boy nodded furiously (not at all noticing Mirabel's panic). "Of course! Look at the detail! The color and- see? The shine! You're so talented, hermanita!"

Then with a wide smile, his hand reached out and ruffled her curls.

"I can't wait to wear it!!!"

(Her mother was laughing at her, she just knew it. If she didn't then, she definitely did when the same thing happened with Senora Guzman and it took poor Mirabel until 3am in the morning to realize.)

"Good night, Abuelita!"

"Buenas noches, nieta!"

Mirabel, 8 hours later, waking up in a cold sweat: "Wait-"

(Ugh, Mami! Can't you see I'm busy dying inside?)

Somehow, the acknowledgement of siblinghood between the Guzman boy and the youngest Madrigal girl made the following months a hectic storm of fun, bizarre, and strangely educational chaos.

With the increased comfort they had in each other's presence, Mirabel had taken to teaching Mariano parkour, while Mariano had taken to pulling a Casita and deciding that teaching an almost 7-year-old how to use a machete was good payment for her free-running lessons.

Suffice it to say, they had given Senora Guzman more than enough near heart attacks to last a lifetime.

"Hermano! You think you can jump that?"

"Mira! You gotta swing- no, not like- yeah! That! Put all your weight into it! You gotta mean it!"

"Yano, no, you have to duck your head and roll. And- wait! Don't land on your heels!"

"Swing! Up! Down! Swing it, Mira! Swing! Woah, don't over do it- ACK!"

"Catch me, hermano! Ha! You think you can just- wATCH ThE TILE!"

"Okay, just like that, you have to take good care of your machete, otherwise you're just gonna be swinging around an extra hard piece of wood."

"Repeat after me- Yano, please -Don't lock your knees. Ever. ¿Comprender? Buena."

"Okay, it just occurred to me that you are small (Wha- ow! Hey! It's true!). So, how about you try moving your entire body with the swing, not just your arm? Like...hmm... come here, Mira, let's try this..."

"Yeah, yeah! That's it, hermano! Fly, Fly!"

"Dance with me, hermanita. Let your blade sing."

Of course, they didn't stop with just Parkour or Machete fighting- no no. Mirabel then taught Mariano the art of sneaking around, making his footsteps so light they could be mistaken as the scuttering of rats. Mariano, in turn, taught Mirabel all sorts of things his Papa had taught him: hunting with a bow and arrow, repairing things around the house, riding a horse, etc.

You would often see the two children popping in and out of random points in town, either training a skill or learning a new one. A common occurrence during days when Mira didn't have a sewing lesson was a race from La Casa Guzman to a chosen house. They would take turns on using the rooves, horses, or pure speed and endurance on the roads- sometimes, they'd even get other children to join in on the fun. Now, those days were just an utter maelstrom of befuddlement and confused joy.

Though, no matter how chaotic a day would become, Senora Guzman could always count on her two children to return home safe and sound.

Either it be Mariano carrying his precious sister in his arms, or Mirabel riding a horse with a snoring Mariano securely, comedically tied down behind her- it didn't matter. Both would be images forever imprinted onto the old woman's mind, and she was once again thankful for little Mira's sudden, literal drop into their lives.

What would it have been like, if she hadn't?

Casita was very, very pleased with her Candelita's growth. Her threadwork was improving, her Gift was developing quite nicely (she can already feel it shifting sources), and she had even started her ascent to becoming the Madrigal Matriarch- she emotionally adopted two people already!

And that's not even mentioning her better social skills and mental state!

(happypridelove)

Ah, they grow up so fast. One moment she's fumbling with a mop handle and the next she's dancing with machetes.

Hmm... Her little Candelita's birthday is almost upon them again (so soon?). And it wouldn't do anymore, for it to be celebrated by two people alone. But her daughter has yet to reveal her identity- though, not for the lack of trust, mind you. Just simply the lack of a proper moment.

Casita checked the state of her magic.

It's stable enough (though, the piece of her in the Lantern feels strange- she'll have to investigate that later); the Flame's not flickering, the cracks small and slow... it's probable.

Casita grinned then, focusing on young Mariano's location.

Time to make a proper moment.

Her daughter won't have to be alone for another birthday anymore, no senor. Not on her watch.

Mariano was panicking.

Did he do it right? Does it look okay? There- that's good right? Wait- is that a strand or- no, that should be darker-

"Mijo," His mother said, amusement in her eyes. "She'll love it." Her hand was a comforting weight on his back.

"She could do better, honestly." Mariano nervously laughed.

"She could," A light tap to his forehead. "But that's not the point now, is it?"

Mariano looked at the door to the sewing room. Then to the calendar. Then back to the door.

"You sure she won't hate it?" He repeated.

"She won't, Mijo."

Seconds ticked by. He inhaled. "Okay."

With only a bit of fumbling, he hid the present behind his back, and knocked on the door.

"Mira?"

"Come in!"

Mariano walked in, eyes instantly drawn to his hermanita's latest work. It was a shawl, dyed different shades of light green in an asymmetric gradient, embroidered with roses of darker emeralds. As always, it was breath taking.

"Hey, Yano! Abuelita!" Mira greeted, smile already putting the almost 14-year-old at ease. She raised the shawl, presenting it in various angles. "What do you think?"

"It's very beautiful, nieta." His mother said, hand reaching over to caress the detailed stitching. "Such threadwork! Who's this for?"

Mira giggled, then with a twirl and a flourish, handed it over to his mama. "Surprise!"

If he wasn't still nervous, Mariano would've laughed at the flabbergasted expression on his mother's face. In the end, he settled for a fond smile.

"For... me?" She asked quietly, grabbing the shawl with a gentleness that should've been reserved for fragile glass. Mariano couldn't blame her. The first professional level stitching Mira had allowed him to handle, he had done the same.

Mira's grin turned a touch bit shy. It was adorable.

"Yeah...um, as thanks? For letting me learn here. For letting me use the sewing room. For the breakfasts and fabrics and -f-fo-for everything. For teaching me." She fiddled with her hands as she anxiously awaited Mama's response. They were probably very sweaty.

Mira didn't need to worry though, Mariano thought as his mama's eyes glistened. The hug that followed between the two certainly confirmed it.

"Oh nieta! Thank you! And it was an honor being your mentor, mi pequena costurera! You were the best student I've ever had! This is beautiful!"

Mariano couldn't help but quip. "She's the only student you've ever had, Mama."

"Even better!"

Mira's laughter was of twinkling bells. There was relief, joy, and- most plentiful -gratitude emanating from her little body as she was spun around and around in his mama's arms, the shawl trailing after her in her grip like ethereal, wispy wings.

That image was what stripped away the last of Mariano's nerves; and so it was with a puff of air that he grinned wide, catching his hermanita's eyes.

"Hey Mira?"

"Heheha- ye-yeah, Yano?"

"You're not the only one with surprises today, you know."

"Huh?" The little seamstress blinked, confused. Mariano's grin got a little bit excited.

"Yep! Last week at training, someone told me something very important. In fact, it was so important I rushed home immediately to do something about it. Do you know why that is?"

Her face should be illegal. It should be against the law to be that cute.

"...No?"

Mariano softened, and with a flourish and a twirl similar to her own just a few minutes ago, presented his gift.

"Happy Birthday, Mira."

A butterfly crown made of yarn, thread, and the softest of fabrics.

His hermanita gasped softly.

Seeing tears, Mariano gently lifted the crown above her head, and placed it upon her curls with the gentleness of the early morning breeze.

Mira's eyes practically sparkled as she looked at her reflection on the mirror mama had prepared. She was beautiful.

"You... made this... for m-me?" She whimpered, echoing the earlier words of her abuelita.

Mariano smiled. "Of course. It's not as good as it could have been, especially if you had done it instead, but... I hope you like it, Mir-oof!"

Who knew the little 7-year-old had such strength?

"Happy birthday, Mira." Mariano repeated as he hugged her back. She was so small, so precious.

Mira's grip was tight. She mumbled something against his shirt.

"Hmm? What was that, hermanita?"

She mumbled it again, a bit louder. He felt something... loosen in his mind. Or- that's not quite the word- perhaps, more accurately, unlOCKeD-WhereDidShECOMEFROMWHO'SFAMILYDOESSHEBELONGTOWHOAREHERPARENTSSHEHASBIGBROWNEYESABIGADORABLENOSESHORTCURLYHAIRSHE'S-

"Mirabel," She looked up at him, afraid, happy, grateful and relieved.

"My name is Mirabel Madrigal. And I love it, hermano, thank you."

(Later, after the revelations, explanations, acceptance and proper celebrations were done, the Lantern Flared- while the Candle Flickered.)

Perspective shift

"Knock knock knock knock knock, knock on wood," Casita's little Seer muttered under his breath, watching the Family breakfast the morning after her daughter's 7th birthday.

A birthday that has, like her 6th, not even been noticed.

"Juli, Gus, what are you doing?" He asked, knowing the answer.

His hands rhythmically tapped against his table, quiet enough to be mistaken for the scuttling of rats. The vibrations accidentally knock off a few wood shavings onto the floor.

"Your Butterfly's flying away," He said somberly, sadly, "The Flame's led her to the Deer in the forest, she's leaving, she's leaving."

His hands sought activity- finding it in the chisel that laid inert near an unfinished, yet still beautifully crafted crown. Clearly a labor of love.

"You're not following, you're not, you're not," He lamented. "You should be right beside her, sharing currents, the sky, but you're not. Everyone does, will, have, though. I Saw. Unfair, unfair to her."

He looked at the ceiling.

"Unfair to you. Why didn't you tell them?" He asked again, also still knowing the answer.

Casita clacked her tiles with him in unison.

"You shouldn't have to," He groaned in acceptance, gently dropping the chisel and switching to ruffle his head of hair. "I know, I know, but, but, but- this is a problem, needs, needs to be addressed."

Casita hummed in bitter, sad amusement; then drummed a few bamboo into a question.

Would they listen?

At that, her Seer looks down, hair in a tight grip of frustration.

"Juli, Pepi- they would, they should, but," He trembled, "We wouldn't be having this talk, if, if they did. Too tight. Too tight. Mama's holding too tight. I'm choking, Casita. We're choking, Casita. My mouse, my mouse, she's not, not yet, but the noose is still there, Casita."

He looked up at the ceiling, this time pleading.

"Can I still follow my mouse, Casita? Can I still call her my mouse, Casita? My vision, my vision. Will she know that I left for her, Casita? My mouse, I miss my mouse, Casita. Am I too late, Casita? Is the rat left to rot, away from his mouse, Casita?"

Casita had only one answer.

His door shook, then glowed bright.

(It's about time for the rat to come home.)

Perspective shift

Mirabel associated her Tio Bruno with the ticks of a sped up clock. His Gift only justified that fact.

He knocks on his wood, he taps his feet, he clacks a finger against his teeth. It's all quirky little rhythmic ti-ti-ti-ti-tap-taps; his own variation of a custom, really. They signal his presence in a room, they allow you a peek into his current train of thought- it was one of the things that Mirabel loved about her Tio.

"Ay, little Mouse, that's not all. You see, she's also his... Cousin!"

"Knock on wood. Just in case. Do salt, too. If nothing else, it'll hit Camaleon in the eyes. That last prank of his was uncalled for. Hmm? Oh, mi pequena nina, tiny, petty acts of revenge are absolutely allowed."

"Do you see this mierda, my little Mouse? Why would my Gift show me the death of a fish? What? No, it's not April 1st, and my Gift is not sentient."

"The key to being a good performer, little mouse, isn't your skill- no no no. It's Confidence and Flair. You can be the best at acting all you want- but if you're not entertaining yourself or your audience, are you really a performer?"

"Ratoncita, I love you, okay? Gift or no Gift. I love you. I love you. Your Tio loves you. You're my mouse. You're special, mi vida. Nobody's just seeing it yet. But while you wait for them to open their eyes, you also gotta do the same. See yourself. You gotta be one of the first to believe. I already do...."

It was one of the things she missed about her Tio.

...she missed her Tio.

It was nice to know he loved her though. Loved her enough to tell her that fact before leaving.

She sometimes wondered what would've happened if he didn't, though. Would he and Mami raise her together? Or, more funnily, would Mami raise them together? Tio had been very mischievous, after all. Sometimes even rivaling Camilo.

...she missed her Tio.

Sighing, Mirabel puts down the shirt she'd been embroidering for herself for the past few weeks, and stretched; the bones in her spine crackling just right. She then rapidly blinked her eyes to quickly get rid of the extra zoom. They went a little teary.

Ugh, she supposes that was the result of being hunched over and squinting over the tiniest details.

"The devil's in the details, little Mouse. It's the details, the subtext, the double entendre; that hit you where it counts."

Ay, Tio.

Gently caressing the little Hourglasses she had added, she wondered where her Tio was now. Maybe he's started a family, maybe he's alone in a forest, maybe he's still on the road.

Or maybe, Mirabel hoped, he's safe and sound- like the broken clock that reminded her of him in Senor Baltasar's living room. Safe and taken care of.

She hummed.

Maybe it's time she added green to her dress. She'd always been a little bit of her Tio's, even after the Ceremony (He told her so; she can still feel phantom fingers ruffling her curls fondly).

Heh. She could already imagine all the 'fights' he and Mami would have over who got to have the most of their color on her.

Knock knock knock knock knock, knock knock knock- plunk.

Mirabel froze.

Tick-tick-tick, tick-tick-tick, tick.

No way.

Tap, ti-ti-tap-tap, tap.

"A pretty little room for a pretty little mouse. But where's the pretty little mouse for the pretty little room?"

Mirabel had never jumped over her railings so fast in all her life.

The next few weeks are spent catching up with each other. Stories upon stories dripped out of their mouths; right into open, eager ears.

But the day they had met again was somehow even longer than that stretch of time- for Bruno, having this as his first direct human to human interaction in the 2 years he spent behind the walls, spilled to Mirabel all he could.

His reason for leaving.

"A vision of you, my precious mouse. Can't tell, can't tell specifics, but you're the catalyst. Save or destroy. Or both. Or none. But you know, you know. Bad luck Bruno. Bad Luck Bruno. Had to leave for you. Couldn't let them know. They'd see you wrong."

His watching of her growth through the walls.

"I saw, and I Saw a lot of you. Proud. Very. Play Pretend with me sometime. I'm, I'm broken a bit, but I still have a little confidence, a little, a little flair, mi preciosa ratoncita. Remember? Remember? Confidence and flair. Also, also, your work, I love it. Casita took care of you good. You're flying high, little butterfly. Could, could this rat ask of his mouse, some of her work? Your magic's warm."

His missing of her two birthdays.

"I hate, hate, that I couldn't give you company. Casita gave you her present, your Gift and Door, and I was happy! Happy for you. But you were also alone. And I was right there. Also your 7th. Not alone anymore. The Deer, they took you in, you took them too. They follow you. Happy, but also sad. I wanted to follow you too. Wanted to follow you so much. Even if only behind walls. But you were far. Couldn't reach you anymore. Asked Casita if I could still follow you. Still worthy, somehow, in her eyes, that she allowed me here. Am I still worthy of you to you though, my little mouse? Am I your rat still? Here, here, your gifts. I made you still. Even with the chance we would never meet. Thought that counts, they say. But, we met. So here, gifts. I love you."

And all throughout this, there were lots of tears. And hugs. And more tears. And more hugs. In fact, one hug lasted so long they both fell asleep in Mirabel's couch, the little girl right on top of her uncle.

(It was a sight Casita had outright demanded of Mirabel's butterflies to immortalise on photo. They were all too happy to comply.)

Ever since then, the two had been attached at the hip, eager to make up for their 2 year separation. Mirabel had informed her brother and grandmother that she had something important to take care of for a while in advance, and thus she was free to dive straight into work.

The first thing she had noticed the moment she was emotionally stable enough to had been her uncle's unruly hair, and so that was what she began the recovery and catching up weeks with.

She cut his hair (having learned how on a whim after seeing her abuelita doing it to Mariano) short and clean, helped him shave his beard to a more tasteful state, then later awed at his uncanny resemblance to Abuelo Pedro.

"Huh," Tio Bruno had whispered, almost reverently, as he looked at his reflection in the mirror, "I, I... I think I'll keep this, this look. I'll keep it, Ratoncita."

Next, Mirabel set to make her precious Tio a proper set of clothes. No more too long Ruana, no more same, drab color shirt and pants, and no more of said shirt and pants being way too loose and baggy. No more; not under her watch.

The outfit she eventually settled on was a vest with back tails, a shirt with medium-length arms, slightly form-fitting pants, formal shoes, and a fancy cloak.

All appropriately colored in matching shades of his green, of course.

(And laden to high heaven with protective and locator threads. She's not loosing him again.)

"Confidence," Her uncle had said, awed, as he slowly turned around in front of the mirror; eyes sometimes lingering on the elaborate stitching. Then he suddenly grabbed an edge of his cloak and twisted to strike a sweeping pose, "and Flair."

His grin was wide, a little mad.

"Oh, my creative little mouse. You spoil me sometimes."

And finally, the hard part: helping his body and mind heal from his time in the walls.

Here, Mirabel had asked her Mami for help (she knew enough to know that she can't do it all on her own- she's still a 7-year-old, after all. Raised by a non-human magical entity yes, but a 7-year-old nonetheless), and the entity had been all too happy to oblige.

They began small.

Mirabel sleeping with her Tio at appropriate times in his part of her Room (that she made immediately after learning he's been in the walls) to force him into a healthy sleep schedule as well as help curb his insomnia with company, Casita helping her daughter cook a full meal for every eating time of the day, Mirabel practicing her parkour with her Tio around to force him to learn with her (and thus have exercise) just so he could keep an eye on her better, etc, etc.

Those little manipulations stacked up quite nicely in the 4 months it occurred in, excitingly leading to her Tio having built himself a lean, strong, and agile healthy body. In fact, amazingly, about 5 weeks in, when Mirabel left for her weekly visit to her brother and grandmother, her mother had happily reported that her Tio had set to practice parkour without her presence. It was great news; he was gaining confidence, he was getting better!

Mirabel was proud of her Tio, if you couldn't tell.

And she became even more proud at what happened 3 weeks later: her Tio asking to meet the Guzmans!

"You trust them enough to reveal your identity, little mouse," idly, Mirabel cheered at his recovering speech, "and I trust you and your mother. Besides; I want to meet the family that, that, treated you well. I want to meet your suns. Casita, she's your soil, your shade. I want to meet the people who made you bloom."

Mirabel could barely hold off on just dragging her Tio straight to La Casa Guzman after that little declaration. Could you blame her for being excited at the prospect that her little family (not her bigger one was she still a part of it even?) was becoming one member bigger?

Luckily, her mother set her straight (amusedly), and so that night, she went by 'herself' only- for hopefully the last time -to prepare and explain what might occur in the next few days.

Her hermano and her Tio got along like a house on fire (no offense to her Mami).

With one a poet and one a performer/writer (he had to be, with those brilliant telenovelas Mirabel could remember being shown to her before he 'left'), was there ever any doubt?

Their bond had even grown in the same room Mirabel's had with the two Guzmans; in the sewing room of the house (Mirabel found that fact very amusing and awesome).

With Tio freed from the usual tasks that came with trying to survive in the walls of a sentient building by being her Roommate, suddenly there was a lot of Free time in his daily routine. Free time that he immediately spent by sitting with his niece's embroidery classes; at first to also learn, but then slowly devolving to what was essentially competitively making a novel on the spot: excitedly spewing storylines, dialogue trees, character backstories and plot-points with said niece's hermano.

Their growing connection was a sound Mirabel and her Abuelita had quickly found to be the perfect background noise to their sewing; the strands of stories their ears catch as they fade in and out of the zone very captivating, her mother's reactionary clicks and clacks of boards and tiles a varied but charming melody.

Though, personally, the little Madrigal girl found it the best when all 5 were interacting. The chaos created by a family in sync was something she could never get enough of (something she wished for with her bigger fam with the rest of her fam La Familia Madrigal).

It all came to a head though, when 3 months after the initial meeting, Abuelita suggested that Tio Bruno finally go out in public- under a disguise, of course, maybe something like Mirabel's Glamour Ruana except preferably without the accidental mind-screwing (sorry, hermano) -to show off his amazing and often enrapturing plotlines, and the man in question lit up with the younger one right behind him.

"Your stories are too big to have just our little family of five as an audience to enjoy them, Brunieto," Abuelita had cooed, "Besides, the Encanto could use a little excitement, what with all the peace. I believe your 'Quién soy yo para ti' series, especially Season 4 episode 27, would do that quite nicely. Bet you; people will be theorizing about it for days. I still am!" She chuckled.

The look that the two literary-leaning creative males had shared after the suggestion made Mirabel instantly, happily, know that this was it- this was the point of no return.

Mariano's little squeal of "Dios mio, Tio, if we're really doing this, you have to include-" only served to fuel her sudden burst of joy.

(The Lantern Flares, Bright and Fiery.)

Her Tio was now officially part of her little family, and he didn't even notice! Ha! Exactly like she had before!

(The freakout he was going to have the moment he does realize will be a moment Mirabel awaits with baited breath and a tub of popcorn.)

Oh, Mirabel was so happy, she was practically buzzing with energy. Actually, maybe she was! She was warm and all tingly all over! (There's a sheet of electricity right under her skin- it's comforting, it's empowering, it's- it's Magic.)

The fact that they were also going to have their first ever Family project soon (she could hear the word 'costumes' and knew it was gonna be hers and Abuelita's job) was just the delicious cherry on top!

(The Candle Flickers, Sputters, Fragmented. Someone looks on with sadness, worry- and maybe a little bit of disappointment. Someone finds the Lantern's brightness bittersweet.)

Casita, while happy at the fact that a Madrigal finally followed the rightful Matriarch, winces as one of the larger cracks in her walls made up for the healing littler ones by deepening. It's hot, it's searing- it's a knife, it's a claw, it's raking it hurts it hurts it hurts ithurtsithurtsdamnyouAlma and it's all she could do to keep her precious Candelita from knowing, noticing. It's too early. There's... There's nothing her Little Miracle could do; not yet at least. Casita screams yelps shouts whimpers groans in pain.

Bear it for her.

Do it for her.

Casita loves them, despite all. Her daughter though especially. So, she Stands. She Stands for them. She Stands a little more for Her. She'll Stand until she cannot anymore.

(It helps though, when her daughter smiles. When her daughter laughs. When her daughter is Bright. Because she knows she's the root cause. Because she knows she made that happen. Because she knows she allowed that to happen. She's raising her right, if nothing else.)

(If she was going to Fail, let it not be at being a Mother.)

------

(Part 4 here! Hope you enjoyed this! I made it extra long to make up for the gap of writing silence. Also, Bruno's here! A Madrigal finally joined Casita's chosen Matriarchal Heir!)

Also Bonus concept art(???) of the Guzman Boy and the Madrigal Girl:

[mackeydoodledoo]

A Real Hero

Pairing: Daniela Dimitrescu x (Fem!Daughter of Ares)Reader

Summary: You were lost. You needed to fend for yourself. You were the runt of Ares’ kids. Yes, the god of war himself had told you that you were the runt of the pack, making you fall behind everyone else. However, meeting a certain red-head has you making other plans.

Warnings: Fighting, Small amount of Blood, Supposed Death

A/n: So, I’m Poseidon’s kid... But, I may or may not have a idea for a daughter of Poseidon to be paired with one of the other two daughters. 

“Supermassive Black Hole” - Muse [Play this when Joan splits off with Daniela to go hunting]

---------------------------------------------------------------------

You had nowhere to go. You were shunned out by your brothers and sisters. Even your own father. You were the runt of the children of Ares. Meaning, you were the weakest link. Your own father had dropped you off at the same very forest. Haven’t heard from him, your mother or your siblings since.

Come on Joan... You got this...

You were exhausted. The glistening sweat rolled off your now toned arms as you were practicing your sword play skills. The tree however, wasn't so lucky. All of its peeled bark, all of its scars. Came from you. It looked like it was on the brink of death.

“Not so tough now are you?” You try to stupidly intimidate the nearly dead tree

God you sound stupid right now...

You take one heavy slash to the tree; it begins tumbling down. However, just as you about to chop it further, you hear a scream. Panic sets in as you immediately grab hold of the tree stump. You initially struggle to keep the other end of the tree’s weight. However, You shove it to the side, groaning in pain, clutching at your shoulder.

“Are you okay?” You ask, running over to the woman who screamed

Just barely grazing her shoulder with your finger, you wince in pain.

“Am I okay?!” She asks, turning to look at you, “Are you okay?! You’re the one who- oh my god...”

The other woman was in shock, but also intrigued. 

She looks down at your finger; blood... But, it wasn’t the crimson shade kind of blood. What was seeping out of your finger was a thick and Silver colored.

“How is your blood like that?” She asks, observing your finger like a gentle specimen

“It’s always been like this,” You chuckle

“Does it actually taste like blood?!” She asks

You look at her; her eyes dilated with curiosity. You look down at your feet, trying to come up with the best answer for her.

“How am I supposed to know?” You ask her, “I’ve never been one to taste my own blood.”

“Then let me be the first one,” She says, her tone dropping to a low, seductive tone

“Hey! What are you-” You protest

But it was too late. The tip of her tongue had ran right over the small prick in your finger. Your eyes widen as she begins gagging.

“Oh that was vile!” She wretches

“I tried warning you to not do that,” You chuckle, “But, did you listen?”

She punches your shoulder as she continues to gag out the contents of your blood.

“But for real though, how did you do that?” She asks

“Do.. What?” You ask her

“The... The.. You picked up a whole damn tree!” She exclaims, “No mortal could do that!” 

“That’s because I’m.. Not fully mortal...” Your voice trails off

“You’re... Not?” She asks, her eyes widening once more

“Demigod.. To be precise..” You begin explaining, “It’s when an immortal falls in love with a mortal... And they have kids... Kids like me.”

The woman doesn’t answer you...

Great... She’s freaked out...

“So... Let me get this straight... You’re... Half immortal?” She asks

Girl’s clueless...

“Technically.. Yes,” You answer her

“Wait until mother and my sisters hear when I bring you home,” She wickedly smiles

Wait.. What?...

When you opened your eyes you no longer found yourself basking in the sunshine.

“Just check her blood! She really is half immortal!” The familiar voice 

“Daniela, quit your games,” Another feminine voice calls to the sole familiar voice

“What is the meaning of this?” An older, robust yet soothing feminine voice walks in

“Daniela claims that she’s found a half immortal,” Another feminine voice says, but more hungrier than the other three

“But mother it’s true!” Daniela claims, “Look at her blood!” 

“Enough... Daniela,” The older woman sighs

By the time the arguing had died down, your fingers held your temples as you groaned in pain.

“Half-immortal,” The older woman calls to you

“Ow... What?” You look up

You had to adjust your neck in a slightly uncomfortable position as you stare straight up into the most giantess woman you have ever encountered.

“Tell me child...” She starts, “What is your name?”

“Joan...” You answer, “Joan Arc...”

“Are you truly half immortal?” She asks

“I am...” You say without a second thought

“Then prove it,” The blonde demands

“Now now Bela,” The older woman calms her blonde daughter, “But that you shall do for us.”

“What happens if I refuse?” You ask, standing on your two feet

“We’ll feed your scraps to the pigs,” The brunette growls 

“Cassandra enough!” Daniela demands, grabbing her sisters’ wrist

Cassandra turns to the red head and begins growling at her like a primal animal. You were about to step in before you see the older woman beginning to raise her hand.

“Cassandra... Daniela,” She sighs, “On this evening’s hunt she will accompany the three of you. Cassandra...”

The brunette straightens herself out when the woman called her name. 

“Do show her the armory for this evening,” She gently commands

“Of course mother,” She answers, “Half and half.”

Cassandra turns to you.

Great... A nickname already...

“You coming or not?” She asks

You walk towards her as you felt claw-like fingernails dig into your skin as you are bragged out of what looked to be the bedchambers. You catch a glimpse of Daniela; the woman you had saved from earlier in the day. You give her a small smile before Cassandra rounds the corner, knocking you into the doorframe.

“Come on,” Cassandra growls

“So... Half and half,” Cassandra teases at your nickname, taking a gaze at the weapons in the armory room

“It’s Joan,” You correct her coldly

“What brought you to our castle grounds anyway?” She asks, completely ignoring your correction

“Actually your sister... Daniela brought me here against my will so...” You joke, but also tell the truth

“She doesn’t know when to stop bringing toys into the castle,” Cassandra sighs

Toys?... Is she for real?...

“I was cast off, unwanted by my own father,” You explain, “I was the weakest of his kids... All of my siblings had their backs turned to me when I was casted out of the cabin...”

“That’s rough...” Cassandra sighs

You weren’t sure if Cassandra was continuing to mock you or she actually felt bad about your situation.

“Anyway though, I’m kind of happy that I’m out of there,” You add, “My siblings were a bunch of assholes anyway.”

“I could say the same for my sisters... We’re always trying to out-best each other to please mother... It’s getting tiring honestly.” She sighs

“Then don’t do it to please your mother,” You say, grabbing a sword off of the weapons rack, “Do it so it makes you happy.”

With your back turned to Cassandra, you begin putting your hair up to a ponytail.

“What’s that?” She asks

“What’s what?” You ask

“The thing on the back of your neck,” Cassandra helps, “What is it?”

My birthmark... Well, just a mark...

“The Mark of Ares,” You answer, “All the children of Ares have this specific mark.”

[A/n: Not much but I tried lol]

You nod, “Not the glamorous life as a god though.”

“So you really are half and half huh?” Cassandra continues asking

After grabbing a couple of armor plates, you arm yourself with a sword and a spear. You follow Cassandra back to the main hall where the other three women were waiting for the both of you. 

“All set?” The tall woman asks

“Yes mother,” Cassandra says

You simply nod as you follow them out to what looked like horse stables. However, you only see enough for the four of them.

Great... Will I have to be the one running on foot?

“Joan,” Daniela calls, horse already galloped in front of you

She simply holds out her hand for you to grab. You let out a smile as you take her hand. You were astonished by the amount of strength Daniela had when she pulled you up onto the back of her horse. 

“Strong,” You smile, resting your palms on her curved hipline

“You better hold on tight,” Daniela flirts

As soon as the stable doors opened fully, Daniela slams the reigns on her horse and the horse bolts past the other three. You let out a startled yelp as Daniela’s horse bursts out of the stables and out into the familiar warmth. You hold onto Daniela for dear life; your head against the back of her neck as you hear her giggling.

“The half immortal is scared of a horse ride?” Daniela teases you

“Caught me off guard is all,” You gently chuckle

Daniela continues to giggle as you ease your grip on her slightly. You look over your shoulder and see the other three horses following behind, slowly gaining to where you and Daniela were. You looked along the tree line to see the sunset beginning to dwindle down below the horizon.

“Why hunt at night?” You ask

“It’s too stuffy during the day,” Daniela explains to you, “It’s tolerable... For a certain amount of time.”

You stop at a river that was relatively near the castle for the horses to rest and hydrate as the four of you begin to tread through the woods to go hunting. 

“Why don’t the both of you go hunt on your own, go teach Daniela some hunting techniques would you?” Bela suggests

“Hey!” Daniela yelps, “I can hunt well on my own thank you very much.”

“I’d certainly could ask Artemis to give Daniela some hunting lessons but who the hell knows where she is,” You explain, “Come on Dani.”

Daniela takes you by the wrist and yanks you close to her as the both of you begin walking along the forest trees in hopes to get any kills before dawn arrives.

“Have you.. Actually hunted before?” Daniela asks

“After months of fending for my own,” You say, “Mostly spear-fishing... Spear is normally my main weapon but if I want to go more rough n tough, a sword.”

“Shouldn’t the half immortals be expertise in various weapons?” Daniela teases you

“A lot of Demigods would have their specified weapons,” You say, “Watch and learn baby.”

You roll up your pant legs and your sleeves. You strip off your shoes and slowly begin stepping into the ice-cold riverbank. further to your right was a giant waterfall. You could hear the loud running water go over the edge of the drop.

“If I only had Night vision,” You sigh 

“On your right,” Daniela calls out to you

You immediately spear to your right. Once you had lifted the spear, you had sworn the spear had gained more top end weight.

“How did you?...” You turn to Daniela

“I mostly go hunting at night,” Daniela smiles, “So my eyesight works best during the night.”

“That’s good to have,” You smile

You and Daniela continue spear-fishing as the night progresses through. 

“Have you caught a bear before?” Daniela asks

“No,” You say

“Why don’t we go and catch one?” Daniela suggests

“Well, how would you do it Daniela?” You ask her

“Why are you asking me?” Daniela asks

“Because one, you’re the one suggesting it and two, why don’t you lead a hunt for once,” You smile

Daniela looks at you as you emerge from the riverbank and begin making a makeshift basket to place all of the fish in. 

“You sure know how to craft,” Daniela just simply watches you make

“A lot of things were learned while living on my own out here,” You smile as you look up at her

You stop weaving the basket when Daniela is just kneeling in front of you. 

“You okay Daniela?” You ask her, clearing your throat

“I’m okay,” She answers, inching her way closer to you, “You?”

“I’m fine,” You answer, a bubble caught in your throat, “What-what are you doing right now?” 

“I... Like you..” Daniela says

“Daniela!” You yell

You coil an arm around her waist line as you try to get up but you tumble forward. You look up and see a bear letting out a roar. With your spear crushed under the bears’ foot, you draw your sword and begin swinging, in hopes of it being scared and runs off. However, you stop once it began growling. 

“Joan!” Daniela yells

You felt your body land onto the ground as the sword is knocked from your grip. You immediately prop yourself on your elbows and turn your head.

“Daniela!” You yell to her

Like Hell I’m about to lose her....

Your legs suddenly spring upward, pivoting as fast as they could. You break into a run as the bear begins to stand on its hind legs. You didn’t even think to take your weapon back into your hand as you use your body to slam yourself into the bear.

“Hey!” You call to Daniela

She looks at you.

“I... Like you too,” You smile

“Joan... Joan!!” Daniela screams

As quick as Daniela could, she scampers up to her feet and dives after you, only to come a hare too late. You and the bear had plummeted towards the sharp-rocked bottom of the waterfall.

“JOAN!!!!” Daniela banshee screams as she watches you both and the bear disappear into the misty waters below

“Daniela?!” Alcina calls out

Alcina, Cassandra and Bela emerge from the tree line, beelining it to her. Alcina pulls her youngest daughter into her arms as Daniela lets out wailing sobs.

“We were trying to hunt a bear and- and- I almost got killed but-” Daniela chokes on her sobs, “Joan went over the edge protecting me.. With- with the bear...” 

“I’m sorry my daughter,” Alcina sighs, “The hunt is over. Back to the castle. Now.”

“But-But Joan is still down there!” Daniela begs her mother

“No one survives that drop,” Alcina states, “Not even a half immortal like Joan. We have to go now.”

Daniela doesn’t argue with her mother. She follows her mother and sisters back to their horses to take back to the castle stables. 

I’m sorry Joan...

Night was slowly dissipating as Daniela lay across her bed, crying to herself. She didn’t care about how bad she smelled from the outside world. She was upset at herself for not catching you in time just before you plummeted to your death.

“Daniela?” Bela calls out

“What Bela?...” Daniela wipes away her tears 

“Someone’s in the main hall with Cassandra,” Bela says, less enthusiastic

Daniela dissipates into flies as well as Bela. Daniela follows her sister and as soon as Bela busts the doors open, Daniela felt her heart throb.

“Joan?...” Daniela calls out, materializing into her human form

“Finally,” Cassandra sighs as she pushes your batters and bloodied body towards Daniela

Daniela catches your almost limp body. But, you manage with all of your strength you had left, you wrap your arms around Daniela's neck as she struggles to keep you on your feet.

"I thought you were..." Daniela says

"Dead?" You finish her sentence

Daniela takes you to her bedchambers and begins stripping away whatever was left of the armor and your ripped clothing.

"Ow..." You groan

"Do you... Remember what happened after you plummeted down the waterfall?" Daniela asks

"Well, what I do remember is that the bear wasn't anywhere to be found by the time I had come to. I was bleeding a lot. But, obviously being a Demigod, my slow regeneration process began. But. Took me forever though. Everything still hurts like hell..." You sigh

You lowly gasp as you felt Daniela's long, cold fingers caress your body as she applies the bandages.

"I'm sorry," She whimpers

"It's okay. You're just really cold..." You sigh, smiling

You could feel Daniela's eyes on you as she moved directly behind you. You could feel the tension between the both of you.

"I meant what I said too," You say

You feel her fingers begin coiling around your ribcage and her head resting on your shoulder.

"I know," She whispers into your ear

You sweep your arm underneath Daniela and pull her into your lap.

"Joan!..." Daniela gasps

It doesn't take Daniela long to settle herself in your lap as her wicked smile sweeps across her face.

"Awwww you're blushing," Daniela coos

"Shut up..." You growl playfully

"Well then maybe you should make me," She smirks, her wicked giggle coming out

[A/n: Here is a character board for Joan Arc]

[inarizakibabe]

Changes

As the first prince of his country Suna had just about everything his heart could want. Riches, fine silks and linens, and more food than he could eat. One would expect with a life as luxurious as his he would be happy. Unfortunately his father could see the sadness deep in his son's eyes. Maybe he needed  new hobby or more servants to boss around? Then again looking at things carefully the king noticed his son avoided the servants as much as he could. Just what could cheer up his son and bring back the joy in his eyes? Oh! Maybe that could work.

"You called for me father?"

"Yes Rintaro. I've noticed your sour mood these past few months and I think I know what could make it better." the king smiled down at his son. "I remember entering a funk as you young kids say and your grandfather threw a ball in my honor and I ended up meeting your mother."

Suna fought hard to hide the disgust creeping onto his face. Surely his father didn't really think he wanted to meet someone.

"So that's why three days from now we will have a ball and invite all eligible maidens to attend. Maybe I'll be able to see you smile again,"

"Um father with all due respect I don't really see how a ball will improve my funk as you called it. Maybe if I took a ride around the forest I'll feel better?" Suna hoped his father would get the message but knowing how stubborn he was he'll most likely be engaged three days from now. "I'll even bring my attendants to make sure I'm alright."

"Nonsense going for a ride isn't what you need. Trust me on this Rintaro. A ball is exactly what you need. You're dismissed. You have a ball to prepare for." The king said before turning back to the papers on his desk.

Suna sighed and left his father's office. Maybe if he ran away nobody would miss him. Or the entire kingdom would be put on lock down until he was found. He couldn't put his people through that so there was only one thing to do.

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

The next day Suna found himself taking a walk in the garden. If all goes to plan he wouldn't have to propose and maybe he could get the freedom he was craving. Sure castle life was fun but when you have people constantly telling you how to live and doing every thing fro you it can get tiring. Before he turned eighteen he didn't have as many responsibilities as he does now. Life was simple he would take lessons during the day and after a certain time he was free to do what he wanted until dinner time.

Now he's stuck behind a desk everyday taking on the tasks of the kingdom he father didn't want to do. If he got to leave the castle anymore it was for business and once all was settled he'd come right back home and behind the four walls of his personal office again. His home had become a prison and his office his cell.

"You know if you continue to frown at the ground it's less likely to open up and take you away from here."

Suna looked up and found one of his attendants speaking with him. He had two personal attendants who miraculously happened to be twins. They met each other at the age of six and have been together ever since. The one speaking to him now was the blonde one Atsumu which meant his brother Osamu, with gray hair, was most likely harrassing the kitchen staff.

"That sounds like a dream come true right now. Don't you feel suffocated here? You've lived here your whole and trained to work for me. Was it something you always wanted or was this chosen for you?" Suna asked.

"Sounds like someone is scared of their responsibilities. Alright Rintaro tell me what's wrong." Atsumu offered Suna an encouraging smile until he noticed the deadpan look on Suna's face. "You don't have to look at me like that you know."

"No offense but, actually take as much offense as you can from this but last I checked advice giving wasn't something you were capable of. Where's Osamu?"

"Looking up one of the maid's skirts. Now what do you mean I'm not a good advice giver? I happen to give great advice to people in need." Atsumu huffed.

"Right right remind me again why ten percent of the palace guards quit after you left 'inspiring' words with them." Suna mused.

"Be glad you're a prince." Atsumu muttered dejectedly.

"Threatening the crowned prince? That's grounds for dungeon time. Let me know if you want gray or white sheets." Suna laughed as he continued in the direction he was headed before.

"I'll take green. Look the fact of the matter is you're clearly not happy about something and as one of your attendants it's my job to fix that. I can get your horse saddled if you want and tell your father you had an entire platter filled with cheese." Usually Suna would grimace at the mention of cheese but a ride through the kingdom sounded more like what he needed.

"Thanks but no thanks, after the last time my father would kill me if he found out I ran off again. If you did want to cheer me up you could figure out a way to get him to cancel this ball he's throwing in my honor."

"You know as well as I do just how stubborn your old man is. You'd have better luck raising the dead than changing his mind. Look on the bright side. There'll be cake." Atsumu smiled at Suna who in turn frowned at him.

"For saying that you get purple sheets."

"Wait! Let's talk this out!"

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

The following day Suna found himself in his room being fitted for a new suit. In the twenty minutes he's been standing there he's been pricked by pins three times.

"Last warning tailor. The next time you hurt the prince you'll be charged for treason." Today Osamu was keeping Suna company

''Forgive me your highness. You're more built than I'm use to dealing with. Rest assured this suit will be the most beautiful suit you'll ever wear." the tailor put another pin in the fabric he was working with and prayed he hadn't pricked Suna again. "If I may ask, what occasion is this ball in honor of? The last celebration we had was your eighteenth birthday and I believe your birthday isn't until next year so what's the joyous occasion?"

"You'll find out the day after the ball until then please focus on leaving skin on my body." Suna sighed.

"Of course your highness my apologies again."

"Tsumu talked to me yesterday. What's going on with you?"

"He talks too much. He simply saw me walking in the garden nothing else."

"Oh yeah? I heard that princess you met in Shektor is coming tomorrow. Should I make arrangements that she's your first dance of the evening?" Osamu smirked at Suna who scowled at him. "Oh dear your highness what an expression. Be careful Princess Tsumaki doesn't see it she might think one of the wind goblins is tickling your nose again. In fact I'll write a letter to her right now to bring her special medicine to cure you!"

"Osamu you bastard! Ow! Alright fine enough I'll answer both your questions just stop tormenting me! I should have both of you locked up for treason." Suna growled trying to keep the parts if his sanity he still had.

The tailor and Osamu smirked at each other as Suna began to speak again. "I just felt trapped behind these walls recently. Is everything I'm doing really important? I sit down and sigh papers all day either about farm rations or mining and I just don't see the need to do any of that. The people know what they need to survive and they know how to do what they need to survive so why should I waste time looking over it for them? They're not children who need to be supervised they'd be well off without me. The again if I don't do that then what is my purpose here? What am I suppose to do with my life? Am I just the face the people use when they need something? No wait that's my father's job so I'm just here. I make agreements and trade deals with other countries and attend diplomat meetings my father can't make it to. If I didn't do any of that then I'd be a regular boy in the kingdom maybe doing stable work. Sounds better than being the one everyone blames for everything if things go wrong. My father apparently doesn;t know me very well and thought I was lonely so he's throwing a ball for me to find a wife. What's not to love about that?"

Osamu sighed and pulled one of Suna's cheeks. "First don't talk about yourself like that. Like it or not this is how you were born and there's literally nothing you can do about that. It doesn't matter what kind of job you do even if all you did was tell someone to move a chair you still did something and it benefited somebody in the long run. You can't see yourself for the things you do but me and everyone else around you can. You just need to look at things from a different point of view."

Suna looked away from both of them and sighed while taking in Osamu's words. Maybe all he did need was to view things from a different perspective. Yeah maybe that could work. "Ow!"

"You didn't have to stick him again Mori." Osamu sweatdropped.

"Nope that time definitely was an accident. Please try not to move your highness." Mori smiled innocently.

Or maybe his tailor would take him out first. Whichever came first he guessed.

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

The day of the ball finally arrived and carriage after carriage arrived at the castle holding nobles and royals from near and far. Suna was in his room again watching from the window as carriages entered the palace grounds. Maybe if he's lucky he could make a run for it during the party and jump the fence to get away from everybody to maybe save himself for a little while. Or maybe one of guards sees him and tries to follow him and ruins his plans.

"Just sit through the ball and I'm sure your father will let you leave for an hour tomorrow."

"Yeah right after his engagement announcement. Listen Rin if you don't want to do it then I don't see why you should."

"Don't listen to Tsumu. We'll help you if you need a breather every now and again but we can't cover fro you the entire night."

"Or eat these two slices of cheesecake right now and be excused for the rest of the night." Atsumu suggested wiggling his eyebrows.

It was a pretty solid plan but a night of pain wasn't worth missing the ball. His father might only postpone it and he'd be confined to his room until everything passes.

"Well gentlemen it's my last night a single man. If I'm lucky Tsumaki won't be my future bride. The small bout of freedom I had was nice but it's time for me to be a big boy and do what I have to. Once I'm king the first thing I'm doing is making sure Asami doesn't go through this." Suna sighed.

"I doubt she'd have a problem with it. Which girl doesn't want to be entertained by a handsome man? Bonus points cause he's rich." Atsumu shrugged.

Suna's eyebrow raised in confusion, "Are you calling the princess a money whore?"

Atsumu chuckled softly and smiled at Suna. "You and I both know that's not what I meant. You're really the only person who has a problem with palace life. Asami is actually looking forward to her happily ever after which is something you need to start doing. You can hate it but if it's something that has to be done then you have to suck it up and get it over with."

"You can say that because it's not your life. I need to teach Asami about how dirty boys are. Osamu you'll be the example for what you and Mori did yesterday. Who could've imagined my attendant and the tailor conspiring against me. The mutiny." Suna shook his head in mock disappointment.

"Be disappointed all you want. I did what I had to do. Now you have to get ready for tonight. If you need us you know where we'll be." Osamu left with Atsumu right behind him.

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~**~*

Night fell quickly and two hours into the party Suna finally met all the young women his father had invited. Many were kind and some more beautiful than necessary but all quickly looked away when Princess Tsumaki approached him. The night continued on as his father hoped with Suna being forced to mingle with everyone present. Eventually his social meter began to run out and he retreated to a hidden balcony for air.

A sound close by caught his attention and Suna found a young woman who seemed to be in the same situation as him. If he remembered he remembered her name was (y/n) third princess of a neighboring country. Suna tried to sneak away before you could see him but alas luck wasn't on his side.

"Your highness good night."

Suna counted to three then slowly faced you with a friendly smile, "Good night my lady. I hope you're enjoying the party."

"It's lovely and so is your country. Please give your father my thanks for inviting my family."

"I can assure you he'll give his thanks for attending. If I'm not being too forward may I ask why you're out here instead of enjoying the food?" Hopefully pressuring you like this will give Suna the quiet time he was hoping for.

"Forgive my rudeness but the amount of people inside made the room a little stuffy. I came out here for a little air." you smiled at him.

"Fair enough. I hope the air is to your liking."

"With all due respect your highness it's been a long night and it's exhausting speaking like this so if you don't mind we can call each other old acquaintances and speak like old friends would. It would be an honor if you would call me (y/n)."

Suna blinked at your request and fought the grin trying to rise on his face. "If that's so then feel free to call me Rintaro. Blame my father for taking things the wrong way and forcing us all to go through this."

"We can't really fight what our parents want us to do. Comes with the title really. You seemed upset earlier should I assume that you don't really want to get married?"

Suna sighed and ran a hand through his hair. "I don't mind getting married I just don't think I should get married because my father thought I was in a funk as he called it. Sounds cliche but I actually believe in meeting someone and falling in love."

You blinked at the prince and giggled. "You're very cute Rintaro. I like to believe everyone wants to fall in love that way. Nobody wants to have their partner chosen for them. What good is being married if you're gonna be miserable everyday."

"If it means I don't have to sit through marriage consultations and weird balls like this one then I may just prefer the other way."

"Careful what you say. I think we both know your father is capable of that. I saw princess Tsumaki looking for her Rinnepoo earlier. Maybe I should let his majesty know you've chosen someone." You looked up to find Suna pouting at you. "Careful your highness they may send you back to etiquette classes for making such a face."

"Good evening Prince Rintaro. It's a pleasure to make your aquaintance tonight. I do hope that-"

"Ok! That's enough! Don't you dare repeat that."

Suna smirked and hid his mouth behind his hand. "Pardon me princess. I just found your greeting to me this evening amusing. I mean no harm it's just you were so cute. How many times did you practiced that?"

"Whatever. Let's see what you would do if the roles were reversed."

"Sorry princess but this isn't about me." Suna giggled.

"So you can smile and laugh. I almost thought you were emotionally constipated. Is that the funk your father thought you were in?"

Suna sighed being reminded of the situation he was in. "It's more than that but nobody would understand."

You smiled at him encouragingly. "The whole you're royalty so you have absolutely no reason to not be happy thing?"

"Exactly that. It's gonna sound stupid but I guess I miss the freedom I had before I turned eighteen. Well more I don't see the need for me to do the things I'm doing."

"Ah you feel monarchy should be abolished. Look at it this way crackers taste good on their own but with cheese the taste is elevated. Cheese and crackers is superior to just plain old crackers by themselves or just cheese by itself. Yes your kingdom could probably prosper on it's own but there are situations the people shouldn't handle on their own. Budget distribution, land distribution, diplomatic matters and many other things. We exist to keep harmony in the kingdom. Imagine leaving children to raise themselves. Many would unfortunately die before reaching a certain age. Think of your kingdom as your very own children. They're self sufficient yes but without you to guide them in the things they don't understand they'll be hurt. You can still do the things you love but your children come first. If you don't take care of them then someone may just take them away. "

Suna sighed. "I can understand that but I just don't understand why it has to be me."

"I don't understand why it can't be you. Anyone could've been chosen for the job but you were chosen. I don't know you well enough to speak on certain things but I have heard rumors that you basically run half of your kingdom on your own. The fact that nothing has fallen apart shows that you're more than competent to do your job. You need to have more confidence in yourself. I've only known you for a short time but I can already tell you're a wonderful person. Don't sell yourself short." You smiled at Suna who looked at you unsure.

Suna shrugged, "If you say so (y/n). Are you hungry?"

"I'm alright for now. But I do think we need to get back before someone misses us."

"What's the rush? You know the reason for this party."

"Is that you asking for my company your highness?"

"I didn't hear a no princess." Suna smirked when you giggled.

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

A few months later Suna found himself sitting in his office again. He was hard at work but this time with a slight smile on his face. A knock on the door took him away from the work he was doing and Atsumu stepped into his office.

Atsumu placed a sandwich and a cup of tea on the table in front of Suna "You seem to be in a better mood these days. What's your secret?"

"Sorry but secrets are secret for a reason."

"Keep your secrets then. Simply means I can't tell you the one I just heard." Atsumu smirked.

"I heard the dungeons don't have heat." Suna shrugged.

"Really? Just make sure my sheets are red."

Suna laughed and shook his head, "You little turd nugget. What's going on?"

"Alright fine but only because you asked so rudely. I heard your favorite princess is coming by later today. Maybe if you finish all your work you can be at the doors to greet her."

"Lucky for me this was the last page I had to look over. Prepare two horses and I'll make sure your sheets are maroon."

"And you call me the turd nugget." Atsumu rolled his eyes. "His majesty said you can do whatever you want for the rest of the day once you stop keeping him in suspense."

"Sounds good. Thanks for lunch."

Things were definitely starting to look up and with one simple question later tonight Suna's life was about to change again. This time for the better.

[pathofcomet]

'cause all that you are is all that i'll ever need

fandom: bridgerton series / bridgerton tv 

pairing: colin/penelope

summary: 5 times Penelope said ‘I love you’ to one Mr. Bridgerton, and one time it was out loud. (AO3)

There are many ways to fall in love, surely. It’s called a fall for a reason: mainly that it hurts and it comes at the most unnecessary moments and it’s an entirely ungraceful matter. Just as one might fall down the stairs after too many glasses of champagne, or fall unconscious after being punched in the face, or fall because one’s ankle decided to twist most rudely – so do people fall in love in a various of ways.

Benedict Bridgerton swears it was love at first sight, like being struck by lightning. Laying his eyes on his beloved that fateful day, and knowing with insane certainty that he was going to spend the rest of his life by her side. Then Daphne’s murmured admissions, that it’s like a sigh you didn’t know rested in your chest releasing, rush of comfort and certainty when touching the other’s hand. Eloise scoffs at all of this, but Eloise can scoff because she has refused six marriage proposals, while Penelope sighs, because she hasn’t had one caller in a decade of London’s most notorious seasons.

Romantic stories wouldn’t fit with Penelope, she agrees. Her mouth doesn’t really know how to work half the time during social situations, and her dresses are most painfully unfitting. And if those were her only problems, but she is, to put it delicately and kindly, definitely not what seasonal diamonds want in a friend, not what loving mamas wish for their sons and not what men desire in a woman. It stung only the first time around, afterwards it was most expected. So no, Penelope Featherington’s love story is not romantic because she’s not a typically loveable person.

It doesn’t make it any less precious in her heart. When her bonnet flies with the gust of wind, consequently covering one Colin Bridgerton’s face while riding, and consequently having him fall down his horse directly in a fresh puddle of mud, she is mortified, certain that she is about to ruin her life before it even began. But then he laughs – not to mock her, not in jest and not in anger, unlike any of her past experiences with a man’s laughter, especially thrown in her direction. He doesn’t even look angry, not at her anyway.

And Penelope falls, too, even if not quite literally as Colin. She’s not sure how she recognizes it exactly as love – maybe the desperate flutter of her heartbeat against her wrist, or the fact that she can’t quite unglue her eyes away from his face (though that seems like an overall Bridgerton issue). Regardless, the truth and weight of the moment hung deep in her chest. Instead, what she manages to say, between the warm blush and their mothers’ chatter, is just an apology.

“I’m the one who should apologize.”

But she has a meddling mama, and he’s nothing but a young man despairing at such nagging, and despite how much she cares for this first moment, she knows she doesn’t quite yet exist in his life. And then – with her debut, with her growing friendship with Eloise, she suddenly is.

***

“Enjoying the evening, Mrs. Featherington?” Colin asks, having materialized himself near the refreshments table.

Penelope chokes on her drink, her cheeks reddening, the fingertips of her gloves now stained.  She has been sipping at her glass for the best part of an hour now, wondering how much longer she can wait for everyone to get so drunk that they won’t notice her grabbing one of the cakes on the table. The answer is obviously an eternity, for a lady should never eat in mixed company, especially if she is a debutante. But although this is barely her fourth ball this season, Penelope has already learnt the most important lesson of her life: that she is not what others would necessarily call a catch. Just because that is true, however, doesn’t mean she can do as she pleases, no matter how incredibly tasty the chocolate cream might look to her right now.

Colin obviously seems to have no problem with such rules, as he pops a biscuit inside his mouth. This one Bridgerton son is known for his appetite in particular, and social circumstances seem to not make much of a difference to his need. And the amount of food he ingests seems to not make much of a difference on how handsome he is.

Penelope pushes her glass on the table, straightening her back, though she immediately hunches back, aware that she’s wearing one of her mother’s absolutely horrid choices, and hell-bent on making it as unobvious as possible.

“Absolutely entertaining,” she answers, though the enthusiasm in her voice most certainly does not match her words.

“I’d rather agree,” Colin retorts. “I haven’t been this bored since Anthony got drunk and drawled on about the responsibilities of the first son.”

“Mr. Bridgerton!” she says, raising her fan so she can hide her smile behind it.

“Keep it a secret, Mrs. Featherington, would you? The Bridgertons tend to be quite unforgiving about these things.”

She thinks of Eloise and her adorably brilliant tendency to throw a tantrum about every single thing that bothers her about her siblings, whom she loves very, very much at the same time, which only makes her smile even larger. They’re such a lovely family, and with time, they’ll only grow to seem even more so in her eyes.

She nods her head in agreement, meeting his eyes over the edge of her fan. He looks, suddenly, quite proud to have her on his side. From across the ballroom, Eloise spots them: sending a nasty look at Colin, and waving her friend over.

“And please, Colin,” he leans a bit to whisper this to her, as the orchestra starts playing another song. “As it seems we will be seeing each other quite a lot.”

“Then, Colin,” she breathes, the name still foreign in her mouth, the roll of it on her tongue so strange that she’ll test it out many times over, in the darkness of her room long after she’s supposed to be asleep. “You may call me Penelope.”

She tries not to fixate on the sound of her name in his mouth (or his mouth in general, that’d be a good idea as well), and fails immensely, everything Eloise tells her that night flying over her head.

***

Penelope isn’t sure when the habit actually started: serving her tea once a week in the company of the Bridgertons. Of course, the number always changes, depending on the day’s circumstances, but it’s always more lively than her own home, in the most pleasant sense. Even the gossip doesn’t feel as cutting in here, with the warm banter and somewhat friendly threats. Eloise is now entangled in a complicated conversation on the virtues of marriage with her sister Daphne, and they’re sure on two different sides on the topic. Violet Bridgerton, the matriarch, just sighs. She meets Penelope’s eyes over the heads of her children, and smiles in a kindest manner. Eloise just rejected her second marriage proposal, while her best friend is yet to receive even a caller in her drawing room.

She recognizes the smile as the pity it is, and yet even that doesn’t feel as bad in here. Penelope has always taken only what has been given to her and made the best out of it. It’s hard when that is actually nothing, indeed.

“Pen,” Colin greets, draping himself in an armchair close to the side of the sofa where she is seated.

He doesn’t yet know how incredibly appropriate this nickname of his is, which is why Penelope smiles so brightly when she turns towards him. Violet’s attention has already moved towards Hyacinth and George, her youngest children, fighting quite loudly over the same colour that they both want to use right now in their paintings. She fails exactly to notice Daphne’s on them now, maybe out of lack of familiarity with the eldest sister.

Colin hands her a piece of paper, and she raises her eyebrow at him before taking it. He’s immediately replacing it with a piece of cheese from the numerous platters on the table, and that’s how she knows he is, in fact, quite nervous about whatever this is about. So she opens the piece of paper.

“The itinerary for my Europe tour,” he provides, though it wasn’t necessary, as she obviously recognizes the most famous locations. “Wanted to know what you think.”

The paper almost slips from her hands, unfair as he is right now. Of course, he has no way of knowing that he’s asking the one who loves him what she thinks about having him away. Penelope manages to somehow smile in-between the thundering of her own heart.

“You’re asking the opinion of a soon-to-be-spinster who has never left London?”

Joking is safe, she can cover her misgivings so easily with some humour – and Colin is so good at picking it up, matching her in her banter.

“No,” he says, and his thumb is over his lips, where he’s licking a spot of jam, and Penelope is quite distracted by the sight of his tongue in-between his fingers. “I’m asking my friend.”

Her neck snaps with how quickly she moves to meet his gaze. There’s a warmth feeling spreading all through her body, overwhelming with how pleased she is at the simple fact that he considers her a friend, how shocked at such admission.

“Are we not? Friends, that is.”

“Of course,” she adds, a bit too fast, and he smiles.

“Then?” the tone of his voice now turns teasing again.

“Colin,” she says, and her mouth twists in a smile just at the syllables making up his name. “You’re a young man: if there’s a world out there you wish to see, all you have to do is go.”

Even if she has to say goodbye, even if she has to see him go, just because she knows it’ll make him happy.

***

Penelope can feel herself getting physically sick. It’s been years now, of her silent love growing and growing in her chest – and it would seem that this moment would destroy it all.

Colin, standing in-between his brothers, having just shouted at the top of his lungs that he will never marry one Penelope Featherington, looks quite livid now that the exact person has been standing in the doorway for long enough to have heard him. Their eyes meet, and she wishes, with all the strength she is capable of, that he would say something. She waits – five seconds: the eldest, Anthony, starts finding excuses for his brother, but there’s really nothing else she wants to hear right now.

She knows her hands are trembling, which is why she hides it by fisting the material of her dress. She knows her voice cracks, when she says his name, but that’s just because she will absolutely not cry in front of three perfectly fine gentlemen over something that is entirely her problem. All things considered, she thinks she handled the situation more gracefully than a lot of others would have.

And when the other Bridgerton men leave the room, and Colin is left stumbling through his apologies, she discovers how meaningless she actually finds them. Because even with her heart breaking exactly because of the one she loves, she finds herself unable to love him any less. Yes, her pride is wounded, but he has said nothing that she didn’t know so well so far.

“I assure you, it is quite alright.”

The pain is there, sharp and terrible – but she will play pretend and she will say whatever words he needs to hear right now, because while he was unnecessary cruel, he was never so in front of her, on purpose, and there’s no need for her to be mean in return. And most of all, because she loves him so desperately, she doesn’t want him to be pained over this, not like she is. Anguished, really, and when Colin shakes his head, knowing that whatever apologies he’s given aren’t enough, but certain enough that he can’t give more, she almost runs in her haste to get away from him.

To get somewhere where she can cry her feelings out. Though her love, as every time, always lingers.

***

Her mother should get an award for the most optimist person, seeing how even with two of her daughters married, she still insists on parading a third one through ballrooms and promenades, as unsuccessful as they prove each and every time, and as old as they both keep getting.

Her mother should also get an award for way less flattering awards, seeing how she insists on dressing her daughter in the most terrible, happy colours, and pointing at third-rate suitors even as they’re standing right in the middle of the ballroom and it’s incredibly embarrassing.

In her defence, once they’re there and once it’s obviously clear Penelope is as unsuccessful as during any other social gathering before, she is left pretty much alone the rest of the time. She’s a wallflower, so just standing on the side of the dance floor and looking awkward is what she does best. The worst part is that this situation puts one quite in the spotlight of everyone else present, especially those old enough to have no other occupation but gossip.

Violet Bridgerton elbows her son in his back, hard. Who knew his mother has such incredibly sharp bones, or such a demanding tone? Colin has been home for a total of two days before he’s been dragged to the first ball, and he’s allowed three sips of his drinks before all attention-seeking young debutantes and their sharp mamas accosted him (which included his own dear one). Colin balances his options, and without even hesitating, he walks across the room to join Penelope in her sulking.

“I imagine these fine gentlemen are all waiting for their chance,” he says, looking around at several old lords, twice her age, which he knows she would not consider an eligible match no matter how desperate, “but would you maybe do me the honour of the next dance?”

She snorts. “I see you’re back and as amusing as ever.”

“You find me amusing?” he asks, already grinning.

“Colin Bridgerton, I’m not complimenting you again, lest it gets to your head,” she retorts.

“I missed you too, Pen.”

And it’s true. He didn’t realise it until just this moment, when they’ve fallen to their usual dynamic with no bit of awkwardness, even after the past months with his absence. It shames him just the tiniest bit that it has taken his mother’s most unkind pressure to even come by her side.

The orchestra starts its next song, and he extends his arm to her, which she takes with a blush and a shy smile. He is in fact her first dance for the night, and she has no doubt it’ll be the only one as well, which is a shame, since she always quite enjoyed dancing. Dances with good partners are the highlight of a party. Dances with Colin Bridgerton are the highlight of the season.

“Thank you,” she says, and if Colin wasn’t already leaned quite close to her, he maybe would have missed it entirely.

***

Penelope really should have learnt better by now – that her heart is never entirely safe with Colin. Be it that he has a tendency to step all over it, or that it makes it beat so fast, that she starts understanding all the ladies who faint all over during a season.

Being engaged with him doesn’t really change the situation. Not when his kisses make her feel like everything that she’s considered so bad in herself is worth the entire world, and then more.

With his hands now swiftly unlacing her dress, the shadow of his room all around them – she finds she cannot keep another secret for this man that is to be her husband,

“I love you,” she sighs. “I have loved you for years.”

“I know.”

How unfair he is, to the bitter end. Even as he essentially accosted her in his carriage, even as he asked her to marry him, even as he defended her in front of her numerous family, getting offended on her behalf, getting worried on her behalf… Terrible man that she loves, terrible man that Colin is, he drags out his own admittance as long as possible.

And she loves him for it, too.