#There’s another kind of favorite. The kind you drag through the mud behind you every day | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

guqin-and-flute · 4 years ago

Text

And A-Fu Makes 4--Ch. 3

[Happy belated birthday, Jingyi! 🥳]

[Ao3 Link]

Things got a little better in school. Not too much. What they were learning was so boring that paying attention didn’t really make it better even when he did use his new rocks so his ears woke up. His ears just didn’t like what they were hearing. When Yellow-Father visited the Cloud Recesses and gathered him up and asked him all smiley what his favorite thing from class today was, A-Fu scowled. “When I leaved. ”

Yellow-Father’s eyebrows went crinkly. “An education like this is a great privilege, Fufu. You’re very lucky.”

“Yeah, well, I don’t feel lucky. Not never.”

His father’s crinkles turned into a little frown and he said, all serious, “There are a great many people who never get to go to school, let alone have the life you’re going to have.”

“Then they’re the lucky ones.”

After that, Yellow-Father closed his eyes and took a deep breath before smiling and asking if he found any good bugs lately--which was such good timing because A-Fu had ! He got to show Yellow-Father the little house he had made for them in the back garden with mud and sticks and a couple rocks--unfortunately, only a couple had actually stayed inside. And maybe that was because they were too busy sleeping on their backs with their legs all curled up but that was okay, because he held them up all proud and Yellow-Father agreed that yes, they were a very nice find and now he could go and wash his hands.

What actually really started to make school lucky was that they began going outside to train and use their practice swords more. A-Yuan may have been good at everything else and just a little bigger than him, but A-Fu was starting to feel great when he got to swing his sword around all strong and fast like his fathers. Up until now, no one at Cloud Recesses had let him whack anything, practically--it was all ‘hold it like this’ and ‘bow like this’ and ‘etiquette etiquette etiquette’. Blah blah blegh. Just another thing to forget. But A-Fu was finding out that his body was pretty good at remembering things, even if his brain wasn’t, and one time, even the teacher passed by and nodded, saying, “Just like that, Lan Fu,” and the sun came up in his chest all sparkly and happy.

He grinned over at A-Yuan, who was concentrating really hard on swinging straight down and didn’t see him, but it was totally okay, because the teacher had told him that he was good! He was doing so good!

After class, he ran all the way home through the sun coming down through the trees to the Hanshi and told the whole entire thing to Blue-Father about 5 times as they walked to the secret bunny patch in the woods. He even stopped on the path to stand with his practice sword to show him his stance and everything. “I’m so proud of you,” Blue-Father had said with a wide, warm smile, waiting for him to catch back up. “You’ve been working very hard.”

“I have! Watch, watch--I can do it so fast! So much faster than A-Yuan! I’m gonna kill all the bad guys!”

Blue-Father shook his head, still smiling, turning to walk beside him with Shuoyue held behind his back. “We should use our swords to protect people.”

Right away, A-Fu copied him, holding his practice sword behind him with his shoulders all straight and his chest puffed out. Their footsteps crunched on the white rocks, every once in a while matching up on a step. A-Fu tried to make them match more, but Blue-Father’s legs were too long. “Yeah, from bad guys that I’m gonna kill! When is the next war?” he asked, looking up at his blue father, all calm and tall against the trees. “Are we gonna win it?”

“Wars are not scheduled, silly boy. Nor should we wish for them.” He held out his hand--A-Fu switched his sword hand and took it as they kept walking. “Your die’s have fought very hard to give you a world free of war.”

What? That was the worst news! “No more wars ? How is people supposed to be heroes, then? That’s not fair, all you got to be heroes! Die, you shouldn’t have ruined it for the rest of us.”

Blue-Father gave a small hum of laughter through his nose before looking down at him with a smaller smile, shaking his head again. “In truth, wars aren’t about glory or heroes. A good leader sees them as a last resort, not something to seek out. The ones who suffer the most are the people who cannot protect themselves and those left behind--and so we dedicate ourselves to the service of those who need us. That should be your goal if you want to be a hero, not the killing. It's what your Uncle Wangji does, when he can. He is known for being where the chaos is.” He looked out into the deep green of the forest shadows. “There is nothing wrong with a peaceful life.”

A-Fu rolled his eyes and leaned way over, hanging from Blue-Father’s hand. “Boooring. I wanna fight--kshh kshh ksshhew!” he added really loud as he reached out to beat up a rock right next to the path, whacking it so loud ‘tok’s echoed around them, scaring a squirrel up a branch.

Blue-Father’s hand squeezed and tugged him back carefully. “A-Fu, don’t treat your sword that way, use it with respect.”

Sulkily, A-Fu stuck it behind his back again.

“And you will have plenty of opportunities to fight, in the life we lead. What’s more important is to have empathy and kindness. Ah, Wangji.” He nodded to him as they finally stepped into the little meadow, bunnies hopping up eagerly to see if they had treats in their pockets. “A-Yuan!” He added with delight as A-Yuan raced up and grabbed onto his thigh with a big grin.

Excited, A-Fu pulled his hand away and wrapped around his other leg, linking his feet behind his heel. “Walk! Walk!” he hollered and so Blue-Father did, walking with careful straight leg steps all around the bunny patch while they both giggled into each others faces when they swung by and the little white puffballs of rabbits scattered in front of them.

A-Fu loved playing near the rabbit hutches with his family--it smelled like sweet hay the rabbits ate and the clean water smell of the stream nearby which made cheerful noises. Some sun came through the thick leaves, but not a ton, so it was green and shady, even on sticky hot days. The grass was thick and fun to jump around and dance and wrestle on.

After 3 times around the whole meadow, Blue-Father shooed them off so he could sit, and A-Fu shyly went with A-Yuan over to go say hi to Uncle Wangji where he sat watching them with a guqin on his knees and a bunny nestled in the corner of his thigh. A-Fu showed him that he still had his rocks from school, tucked in his inner pockets, snug and warm. Uncle Wangji nodded with a little smile and A-Fu felt all shiny and bubbly and thought that this was maybe one of the best days ever. He sat right next to him, leaning on his leg, and told him what songs he wanted them to play when Blue-Father took out his xiao. The grownups played lots of music while they were there; dancey ones and pretty ones and boring ones they played all slow and sad. It was nice because the music was kept close by all the huge trees, like a private recital. A-Fu danced with A-Yuan to the fast ones, pretended to be underwater for the slow ones, then chased the bunnies around when there were too many of those--until A-Yuan made him stop.

Eventually, though, fathers started talking in between the songs, and that got long enough that the instruments just stayed in their laps and A-Fu got bored. Then, he had the greatest idea. He grabbed A-Yuan’s hand and pulled him up so his special speckley rabbit hopped out of his lap. (A-Fu had named it Poop-Eater and A-Yuan had named it Turnip and they both would not use each other’s name--A-Fu because he thought it was lame and A-Yuan because he thought it was gross--even though it was true , because he did eat poop, A-Fu had seen it.) Dragging A-Yuan over to where the grass was long and soft and pretty un-nibbled, he said, “Let’s do a dueling!”

A-Yuan held out his arms wide, showing him in his sleeves. “But I don’t have my practice sword.”

“Hmph. Well, okay, I have mine...so the duel is who can swing the sword the best. You go first.”

A-Yuan scrunched his face up and looked back at where Blue-Father and Uncle Wangji were chatting quietly about something, both petting the sleeping bunnies in their laps. “Do I gotta? I’m playing in bunnies and I'm tired.”

“Yes, we gotta, for really real! We can play in bunnies after!”

After one more longing look at the rabbits, A-Yuan sighed. “Okay.”

They practiced, back and forth and back and forth, and since A-Fu was so good in class, he was able to tell his cousin that his hands weren’t holding it right. Then, that his feet weren’t right, and then that he wasn’t swinging it fast enough or straight enough. It felt great to be the one in charge, the one who knew all the right answers, for once. Eventually, he rolled his eyes and asked, all smug, “Did you even pay attention in class? It’s not that hard. Are you trying at all?”

Right away, he knew he messed up.

A-Yuan’s face got all wobbly and red and his eyes went shiny. He dropped the sword and ran to Uncle Wangji sobbing, saying that A-Fu was being mean to him. A-Fu’s tummy dropped into his feet like when he had jumped off the too high wall. He ran to go hide behind his father--but, of course, he didn’t let him. Blue-Father found his hand and tugged him to his feet and made him stand up straight and tell them what happened. Uncle Wangji sat on the grass and held A-Yuan under his chin and listened to A-Fu explain with a quiet face that didn’t show what he was thinking at all. “I wasn’t making fun of him! We were playing!” There was a long silence, and A-Fu squeezed his eyes shut and covered his ears. “I’m not lying!”

Blue-Father’s even voice said, “Then tell us, A-Fu.”

Desperately, A-Fu looked up at him where he stood, still covering his ears. He was looking down at him with a serious face, eyebrows raised. He wouldn’t let Uncle Wangji yell at him.

...Right?

“Diedie… ”

“We need to take responsibility for the hurt we have caused. There is no getting out of it.”

“You were making fun of me,” A-Yuan sniffed, all miserable, turning in Uncle Wangji’s lap to look at him.

Everyone else was looking at him, too, and A-Fu got all hot and squirmy and ashamed because now everyone was mad and hated him. “I was just...I was teaching him...he wasn’t doing it right…” he whispered, his eyes all blurry.

He just wanted to be good at something. Why was he in trouble for being better than A-Yuan at something when A-Yuan had so many other things he was better at? It wasn't fair.

Uncle Wangji looked at A-Yuan, whose lip trembled as he said in a voice like a wobbly guqin string, “But you said it so mean.”

“I didn’t! That’s how they teach me !” A-Fu cried, pulling his hand down from his ear to scrub at his tears.

“Do you know it is wrong?” Uncle Wangji’s voice was quiet--which definitely wasn't yelling but it sure felt like it.

A-Fu just covered his face and didn’t say anything.

“Should you do it, if you are aware?”

“...No.”

Blue-Father knelt down beside him, putting a hand on his shoulder. “You know that this is not how we treat people. You need to practice empathy--think of how he is feeling. If it hurts you, it will hurt him. What do we say to A-Yuan?”

When A-Fu looked back at A-Yuan, seeing him still crying made A-Fu start crying again, which made A-Yuan start crying again and they hugged and A-Fu said he was so so sorry and he would never ever say anything mean to him ever again. A-Yuan forgave him right away, like he always did and hugged him back super tight. A-Fu saw Blue-Father smile a little at Uncle Wangji--who gave a teeny smile back. (A-Fu was getting better at being able to see them. They were there! Just quieter.) Then they both curled up on Blue-Father’s lap and played with the bunnies while Uncle Wangji played more nice songs on the guqin and things just all got so much better.

‘Empathy’ was a Blue-Father word--A-Fu noticed it popping up, like Blue-Father kept it in his pocket. Whenever he yelled when he got too mad or did something without thinking or talked before his mind caught up, it was ‘empathy empathy empathy’. Maybe it was his favorite or something.

Some of his other grown ups had pocket words, too--Great-Uncle Qiren’s was ‘Prohibited’ or ‘Impertinent’ and Yellow-Father’s was ‘Careful’. When A-Fu started looking, he kept noticing it more and more--when he played with A-Qiang a little too rough or balanced on the edge of the koi pond, he got a 'careful'. When he ran around right after a bath, he got a “Fufu, careful! ”

One time, he got a ton of ‘carefuls’ in a row, when he was in Koi Tower and he snuck out behind the nanny’s backs again. He went around and around in the halls to lose them until he was almost dizzy and when he finally stopped, he realized he didn’t recognize anything--there were no windows and more doors than usual, dark and sturdy. The walls didn’t have as many fancy curlicues and dangly bits as the rest of Koi Tower, more plain blue with just some gold circles studding the pillars every once in a while. Well. A-Fu just had no idea where this was.

He wasn’t worried, though, because when he poked his head around a corner, he spotted Yellow-Father facing away, talking to a black and gold someone in a doorway, so he dashed down the hall and catapulted into his father’s legs and yelled a hello with a big grin. It wasn’t until he looked up at his father’s face that he noticed he wasn’t smiling back like he usually was. His expression was all tight and unhappy, his eyes darting between A-Fu and the man he was talking to.

The man was smiling down at him, though. But his eyes weren't friendly--they were dark and... waiting. They glittered like a snake and A-Fu even liked snakes--but he was pretty sure that people shouldn’t have the same sort of eyes.

Yellow-Father’s hand squeezed his shoulder as he tried to turn him around quick. “Fufu, you are not allowed down here, you need to--”

But A-Fu spotted something and he squirmed back around in his hands. “Why do you have that?” He pointed at the man’s hand where it sat on his hip with only the pinky covered by the black leather of his glove. “That’s weird.”

“Lan Fu-- ”

The fact that Yellow-Father just full-named him flew out of his head because A-Fu decided right then and there that he didn’t like this guy when he said, “Wow, you’re a rude little shit, aren’t you?” Then, the stranger man tilted his head, his wide, weird smile growing wider and weirder. “Ooooh, is this Er-ge’s spawn?”

A-Fu jutted his chin forward and folded his arms. “No, I’m--”

“That’s enough. I think you have somewhere to be,” Yellow-Father said. And A-Fu froze, looking up at him with wide eyes. Because Yellow-Father was never rude, no matter what--but his voice had been rough and cold like ice and he was staring at the snake eyed man. And he was finally smiling; all hard like a warning.

For some reason, that seemed funny to Snake Eye Guy and his teeth peeked through. “You’re not even going to introduce us?”

“No.” Yellow-Father took A-Fu by both shoulders and turned him, marching him right back down the hall.

“Rude. Do you like sweets, brat?” Snake Eye Guy called after them.

A-Fu scowled back over his shoulder as Yellow-Father kept steering him in front down the hallway, almost tripping him on his feet. “Yeah,” he said, super tough, just like Gray-Father would. “Why?”

“Come find me if you ever want any.” Then, he laughed, delighted when Yellow-Father’s fingers tightened on his shoulder like claws. “Oh, what, Lianfang-zun? What do you think I’m going to do to him? It’s just candy.” His mocking followed them around the corner A-Fu had to take at a jog.

Yellow-Father had hustled them down the strange corridors until they found the sun again. He was still squeezing until A-Fu yelped that he was squishing his bones out, and he let go right away. When he stopped to kneel down and rub them, he started scolding with a worried frown, “Fufu, you cannot keep doing this. You need to stay with your nannies and out of places that are not meant for you. You have to be more careful.”

A-Fu just wanted to know who that guy was and why his hand was like that and why he was so weird and why was Yellow-Father so mad at him and did he really have candy?

And Yellow-Father wouldn’t answer any of his questions at all. He just kept saying, so serious, that A-Fu could never be around him again or talk about him and that he needed to be careful. And usually A-Fu was annoyed at new rules, but this one seemed to make sense. It would also be pretty easy to follow, because he gave him the creeps and he didn't really want to have to talk to him again. But he still wanted to know-- “Why?”

“He’s not someone a child should be around. If he ever tries to talk to you again, you come and find me right away, Fufu. Do you promise me?”

“Who was he?”

“Do you promise ?”

A-Fu had to think. “Yeah. Why?”

“Just...don’t worry about him. You shouldn’t see him again, but if you do, leave at once.”

“Are you mad? Why can’t I talk about him?”

“...Because it would be gossip. Gossip is forbidden.”

A-Fu guessed that made sense. Maybe. He reached up and grabbed Yellow-Father’s hat dangly, asking, “Are you mad? Are you mad at me?”

Yellow-Father sighed and rubbed his face and then finally smiled at him, all squinchy and small and harassed. “No. No, I’m not mad. I’m sorry.” He pulled A-Fu in close and squeezed, kissing his forehead.

“Is he a bad guy?” A-Fu asked Yellow-Father’s neck. “I can beat him up for you, I’m getting really good at swords.”

Yellow-Father huffed out a breath and smoothed A-Fu’s hair down. “I’m sure you are. But no. Just...just be more careful. Don’t come here again. Stay with your nannies.”

“Why? Careful what?”

Yellow-Father pulled back and rubbed his temple. “It’s time to go back, now--and no more escaping! You can’t be so naughty, what are you going to do to my heart, making me worry? I’m going to have to have a talk with your nannies….”

If ‘Careful’ was Yellow-Father’s pocket word, maybe one of Gray-Father’s pocket words was the grownup word 'Conviction'. A-Fu first learned about it when he went to stay at the Unclean Realm for a whole entire month in the summer.

It was so much fun--he went into town with Uncle Huaisang a lot and hid in the sweet smelling fabric at the silk shops and got a little toy fan, just like Uncle Huaisang’s. Almost every day they went down and both got candied hawthorn sticks as they walked around and looked at things. A-Fu’s favorites were the toy stands--he got pinwheels for him and A-Yuan and A-Ling and A-Kui. He tried to get them in all the Clan Colors but they didn’t have red, so he got A-Kui yellow, too.

Sometimes, though, they would go into the forest and find a little stream where Uncle Huaisang would tie up their sleeves and they would try to catch fish with their hands. Uncle Huaisang was really bad at it and A-Fu told him so. He got so offended that he splashed him and got his robes all wet. And one day, they followed a little blue bird for-ev-er until A-Fu started complaining and scared it away. Uncle Huaisang had paid him in candy to not repeat any of the words he yelled at the sky as it flew off above the trees. Oh well. A-Fu liked hunting for things on the ground more anyway, like frogs or turtles. They couldn’t fly away and they were easy to stuff in his pockets or his sleeves. One time, he brought back, like, five toads and Gray-Father said the same bad words as Uncle Huaisang when they got on his important letters. From then on, toads were banned from the Unclean Realm, which made A-Fu grumpy. But at least he still had the 3 salamanders he found and he was learning new vocabulary words, like he did for school.

Other times, he would help weed and water the vegetable garden out behind Uncle Huaisang’s room. They had planted it together the last time that A-Fu had stayed a million years ago and things were still growing--but there were a couple beans and lettuce and carrots he got to munch on after they rinsed them off. It was kind of boring, but he got to look for worms and eat, so it wasn’t so bad.

Nie Zonghui, Gray-Father’s second in command, always had a nice smile and showed him how he could use his double sabers, which was the coolest thing next to Baxia. Now that he actually knew things about swords, A-Fu followed him around a lot when he was doing practice drills in the training yard with all the pink flower trees around it, copying his moves with sticks, since his practice sword was back in the Cloud Recesses. “I’m not certain I should be teaching you these,” Nie Zonghui said with a smile down at him as A-Fu hacked at a practice dummy’s butt. “Sabers and swords use different techniques and I don’t want to spoil your learning before you even start.”

“Well, if it’s my sword, I can use it how I want, right?”

“Mm. Not quite. You’ll be taught Lan skills.”

A-Fu frowned, wiping sweat off of his face with his sleeve, then shoving his headband up when it slipped. “Then I’ll get two--one sword, one saber and I’ll use them in two hands like you and it will be the coolest thing anyone has ever seened.”

Nie Zonghui grinned and looked over at the Nie shijie that was snickering nearby at the next dummy. “Uh, that will be a sight. I look forward to it.”

A-Fu nodded firmly at them. “Yeah, you do that.”

When Gray-Father stopped doing boring work talking to people and came out on the training grounds, A-Fu would challenge him to a duel and fight him with a Nie practice saber. It didn't always go so well because Gray-Father knew more moves, but when it got too complicated, A-Fu just whacked his shins and knees really hard and then tackled his tummy so they fell on the dirt and laughed. When Gray-Father wasn’t around, the cool Nie disciples sometimes let him whack them in the knees! He just had to promise to avoid the nards, which he thought was fair.

He would go walking and playing with Gray-Father on days where he was back from Night Hunting and meetings, riding on his back or one shoulder like he was Clan Leader--or even a King! When he sat up there, he was so tall, he could probably be in charge of anybody! Sometimes Gray-Father was grumpy and not in the mood for a lot of wrestling. Sometimes he told A-Fu to ‘calm down and cut it out’ when he got super bouncy or loud. But most times, he was happy to see A-Fu and threw him up into the air or pretended to eat him or asked him all about his day. And A-Fu was so super happy to see him too, because he missed him.

Sometimes, though, he got a little sad and missed Blue-Father and A-Yuan and his Cloud Recesses friends and the bunnies and Uncle Wangji and even Great-Uncle Qiren. Sometimes, he had nightmares where he woke up in a place he didn’t know and no one would look at or talk to him. Those times, Gray-Father would let him crawl into bed once he knocked on the door. He would hug him close to his chest and pat his back and say that he missed Blue-Father, too, and he wouldn’t ever leave A-Fu anywhere he didn’t know. The Unclean Realm was his home, just like Cloud Recesses and just like Koi Tower, but he just had a whole bunch more practice of Cloud Recesses. He was used to the night noises of the bugs and the shush of the tree outside his window when the wind blew. Well, he told his father, A-Fu just needed to stay here more often, that’s all! And he had smiled.

When Gray-Father heard about how good he was getting at swords in school, he was so totally proud of him. His father ruffled up his hair and smushed his cheeks and said, “Practicing a lot, are you? You’re going to be a fearsome warrior just like your die? Smite all the evil?”

A-Fu got that happy sparkly feeling bubbling up again. “Yeah!”

Uncle Huaisang grinned and fwipped his fan shut, patting A-Fu’s shoulder with it. “Ah, good job, good job! What about reading and writing, xiao-Fu? I bet your calligraphy is going to be impeccable!”

A-Fu wrinkled his nose--peckable? "We don't keep birds like that in the Cloud Recesses, shushu," he reminded him, all patient. Ugh, did he ever think about anything else besides birds?

His uncle and his father looked at each other. "Oh, of course! My mistake. But I bet with your shu-gong on your case, you're the top of the class!"

A-Fu shrugged, flapping his toy fan open and closed really fast, the way that made Uncle Huaisang wince (and he did). “I hate reading. It’s stupid and hard. I like doing swords way more, I’m better at stabbing. ” When he said it, he jabbed the fan forward with both hands toward Gray-Father’s chest.

Gray-Father did a complicated twisty thing with his hand and snatched it right from A-Fu’s fingers, bopping him on the head with it. “Good boy, practicing.”

A-Fu wrapped both arms around the sting and scowled. “Hey!”

Uncle Huaisang sighed. "Aiya, another one. Promise me you'll at least still paint with me?"

Before he could answer, Gray-Father asked, “How are you with a bow and arrow? Have you started yet? Maybe we could try hunting sometime soon.”

Uncle Huaisang made a scrunchy face, folding his arms. “Da-ge, don’t you think that’s too rough for him? And... would Er-ge approve?”

Some of the happy went away from Gray-Father’s face and he looked over at Uncle Huaisang. “I went out with die around his age. And Xichen has agreed that he should have a broad education.”

“But he’s just a baby!”

What!

Extremely offended, A-Fu puffed up and raised his fists. “I’m not a baby! I can hunt! Die, die, I can hunt, can’t I?”

“Of course you can. I can take you later today. How about it?”

When A-Fu cheered, Uncle Huaisang rolled his eyes and muttered something, fanning himself real fast.

When they went, it was still a nice day but the sun was so bright when it peeked through the leaves, A-Fu had to squint against it and sweat kept trickling down his neck, even though the air was cool up in the mountains. They were both clopping through the forest on Gray-Father’s big brown horse, Leiting, with A-Fu perched in front on the saddle. He felt very important and tall and he kept very quiet just like Gray-Father told him to be, looking around with his practice bow in his lap. When he snuggled back against him, he felt Gray-Father chuckle in his belly and he reached down to pat A-Fu’s chest. Then, his father sat up, straight and quick, and twisted to the side, shooting his bow with a twunnnnng before A-Fu even knew what was happening.

And it turned out that Uncle Huaisang was actually right.

Because when they got down and found the arrow butt poking up from the bushes, A-Fu’s tummy clenched up tight like a fist. The other end was stuck in a bunny. It was lying there all floppy with blood coming out of its mouth and nose. The one dark eye he could see was looking at the sky, reflecting the sun coming through the leaves. It wasn’t moving. It wasn’t ever gonna move again.

It was dead.

And all A-Fu could think was that this bunny wasn’t ever going to feel the hot sun again or eat a flower or anything.

He had heard about killing before, and he knew what dead was. Kind of. Sort of. He had just never thought about it for Really Real, actually happening. It was for stories and legends. It hadn’t meant anything before now.

Suddenly, the nice day was horrible and awful and he burst into tears, startling Gray-Father and Leiting, who swung his huge head around to stare at all the noise. Then, he puffed out a breath and shook his head with a jangle.

“Why did w-we gotta shoot it!? It’s j-just a bun-unny!”

Gray-Father frowned and knelt down next to him, a hand on his shoulder. “What did you think hunting was, child?”

“I do- hic- on't know! Why did you do that?!”

“We hunt animals and take them home for their fur and meat. For food.”

He stared down at the bunny’s big gray body, just laying there on the ground. “Food?!”

“That’s how we eat. What did you think was in rabbit stew?”

“I don’t k-know ! Bits! P-Parts!”

With a face screwed up, Gray-Father pinched his nose with his fingers, then looked at A-Fu again. “You thought we just cut parts of an animal off? That would be cruel, their legs and things don’t grow back. Chicken is chickens. Pork is pigs. We kill them and eat their meat, just like wolves and tigers do. It’s the natural order of things.”

This was the worst news in the world. All this time, he had been eating silly chickens and fluffy rabbits? They were dying? No wonder there were Lan rules about not eating meat or killing in the Cloud Recesses! He wrapped his arms around his tummy and yelled, “I hate it!! I’m-m never gonna kill an-nything ever!”

Sighing, Gray-Father picked him up. A-Fu put his arms around his neck and wiped his nose on his shoulder, smushing his face into his chest. He smelled like leather and the sun. With a thump, Gray-Father sat down on something, maybe a log, patting his back. “We are cultivators. One day, it will be your job to kill evil things--”

“Bunnies aren’t bad guys! They never hurt anyone! ”

Pat pat. “I never said that. Listen to me. You don’t have to like it, but it’s important to know what goes into your food. Everything in this world has its price.”

“I’m n- never gonna eat meat ag-gain!”

“Child--”

“No ! Never! It’s ho-horrible!”

A-Fu felt him heave another sigh as he kept pat-patting. “Alright, alright, deep breath. It’s your choice--you’ll be like your Blue-die and rest of the Lan. If this is what you decide, then we’ll make you vegetarian food when you come here...and I’m sure the cooks in Koi Tower will do the same. But you can’t be picky about what you eat, because you need to grow up strong. You’ll eat what’s put in front of you.” Gray-Father peeled him back and looked down at him with a serious face as A-Fu sniffled. “That means no more of Jin-shao-furen’s rib and lotus root soup or pork bao. No sneaking things with meat from the kitchen just because you get tired of it. If you have a conviction about something, you stick to it. It means nothing if it changes when you please--that’s not conviction, that’s convenience. Do you understand?”

This was obviously a way bigger decision than he had thought when he first said it. He scrubbed at his eyes and stared at the threads sparkling on his father’s robes in the sunlight as he thought. They were bright gold in the dark green, like the fish scales in Uncle Zixuan and Aunt Yanli’s koi pond. “...N-no more pork bao? Or bo-mu’s soup?”

Gray-Father raised his eyebrows and nodded. “Or chicken or fish or any sort of meat.”

He snuck another peek over at the arrow poking up out of the bushes, then stuck out his chin, crossed his arms and announced, “Yes. Never.”

With a big, rough thumb, Gray-Father wiped his tears away from his cheeks, then rested his hand on his shoulder. It was really warm. “Alright. Think more before you decide, because it’s a big change. And if you believe in something, I expect you to mean it.”

A-Fu wasn’t going to think more because he meant it, he really, really did. He didn’t even look at the body of the rabbit as Gray-Father brought it home and he hid behind his hands when they stopped by the kitchen to drop it off. When a golden Jin butterfly fluttered from the sky, Gray-Father scowled and lifted A-Fu down from Leiting’s big back and set him on the ground. “Go find Huaisang. I’ll be by later.”

Instead, A-Fu first wandered to his room and ate the rest of the sticky candied hawthorn that he had forgotten next to his bed and felt a little better. Then, he went and found Uncle Huaisang. He burst right into his room and announced how terrible hunting was. “Did you know they kill the animals!?” he demanded up at him. “Did you know that? I think everyone should!”

Uncle Huaisang pressed his lips together, looking at the door like it had said something rude. Then, he took A-Fu out into their garden and together, they threw seeds on the warm ground and watched the different birds come fluttering down, bright as little bits of colored cloth. He even showed A-Fu how to follow them from behind and reach down to catch it. He wouldn’t let A-Fu try on his own, cause he might grab too hard, but he let him hold one really, really gentle in his hands after he caught it.

It was tiny and smooth and he could feel its little heart beating super fast against his fingertips through its fluff as it looked around. It was so light and small that he all of a sudden got worried that he would squeeze too hard and kill it, so he let it go.

The rest of the day while he played and ate and ran around and snuggled with Gray-Father, the rabbit totally wasn’t even in his head.

But that night, after he was tucked into bed and the lantern got blown out, he laid there and thought about the bunny and death. What if they killed a baby bunny's mommy and now it was all alone in the dark? What if it was a Cloud Recesses bunny's cousin? What if they had just killed A-Yuan's bunnies’ A-Yuan? A-Yuan would cry and cry and cry all day if he had seen.

Rolling over onto his back, he watched the branches outside wave against his ceiling in the moonlight, rustling outside his window in the wind that blew in the sweet smell of flowers. Death seemed to be what big, strong things did to littler, weaker things. It made sense--people were bigger and stronger than the bunny, so they killed it. Tigers were bigger and stronger than regular people, so they killed them.

Were his birth parents small and weak? They had to be. Had someone shot them through the heart, just like Gray-Father did today? He squeezed his eyes shut and rubbed them, green and black speckled clouds of stars squishing around in the dark. Before today, they had just been a story Blue-Father told him. It hadn’t been real life. And he never really thought or wondered about them dying; they just were dead already. But he guessed that they didn’t just come that way because dead people couldn’t have babies. It was weird.

It was better that he had his real fathers, now. They wouldn’t ever leave him and Gray-Father could beat up every tiger.

When he got back to the Cloud Recesses at the end of the month, he made sure everyone knew what hunting really was. “And the bunny just died!”

Great-Uncle Qiren sipped from his tea cup, then set it back down in front of him. “Yes, that is the nature of hunting. If you’re worried, it does not sound like the creature suffered.”

“Uh…” No, he hadn’t thought about that. “That’s good. I guess.”

Blue-Father squeezed the base of his neck, comfortingly. “That must have been quite a shock if you weren’t expecting it.”

“Yeah….Did my birth parents get shot by an arrow?”

Blue-Father took in a quick breath, but it was Great-Uncle Qiren who said, in a quieter, kinder voice, “No, Lan Fu. They died in battle, protecting their Clan. You don’t need to know more than that.”

“Why?”

“There is no need to trouble your mind with such knowledge while you are young. Know they did what they could to protect you. As Xichen does now.”

“I won’t be troubled!”

Great-Uncle Qiren shook his head, mouth a tiny bit smiley under his moustache. “Enough.”

“Will you tell me later? When I’m older?”

He tilted his head a little. “Perhaps.”

“7?”

“No, it will be many years. Do not ask again, I will not answer.”

A-Fu looked up at Blue-Father, who was petting the ends of his hair where it laid over his shoulders, watching him with a soft smile. “I’m never gonna go hunting again,” he said, firmly. “I’m gonna eat like a Lan always.”

Blue-Father’s eyes curved up and Great-Uncle Qiren made a little bit of a pleased face and nodded. “It is wise of you to consider the sanctity of life and purity of your body. It is why we have this rule.”

Huh! There were good reasons for rules! A-Fu never knew.

When he told his class, some of them already knew about it, like the older kids and A-Yuan--which wasn’t surprising because A-Yuan knew everything. But a lot of them asked questions, which he did his best to answer while feeling very important. They asked him things like ‘did you see its ghost?’ and ‘was it scary?’ and he demonstrated being dead a couple times, then Gray-Father being the hunter. After a while, they all wanted to try and they ended up all taking turns pretending to die and kill each other in a big game around the practice yard, which was really fun! Until Teacher Lan Hai came back outside and had them practice tightrope again.

#my fic #my stuff #3zun raise jingyi au #3zun raise jingyi au content #3zun

54 notes · View notes

whatareyousearchingfordean · 4 years ago

Text

Mile Six

Summary: The Kings, and Queens, of Con take on the Central Texas Tough Mudder Competition and have a good time doing it.

Pairing: Jensen Ackles x Reader

Word Count: 2.3K+

Warnings: Language, suggestive themes

Author’s Note: So, this little thing was inspired by this post (x). I saw it and instantly went weak in the knees and thus this was born. I hope you enjoy my little musings. As always, I love to hear what you thought xo Alex.

Check out Alexandra’s Library for more works by yours truly!

Trees lined the wide expanse of the field, the grass below shimmering against the Texas sun that had settled high in the afternoon sky. A slight breeze blew across the space, rustling the edges of the leaves and sending a chill down the breadth of her wet body.

“Your turn, Y/n,” the quirky voice of her team member had slipped past her consciousness as she watched the sun be eclipsed by a wisp of a cloud. “Y/n!”

“Hmm, what?” The woman snapped her head back to the obstacle in front of her.

“Go, Jensen’s gonna boost you,” Rob urged her forward with a hand on her shoulder. She shook off her daze, the exhaustion fogging not only her muscles but her brain as well. The team had officially hit the halfway point of the obstacle course and she knew that she was going to be sore for days.

“Come on, baby,” Jensen smirked at her from where he was squatted against the tall wooden wall. He cupped his hands in front of himself and indicated for her to step one foot into his palms. Y/n halted in front of him as she placed her right foot in his hold and rested her hands against his broad shoulders. She glanced up at Jared and Rich sitting on the ledge, ready to help her in whatever way she needed. “You’ve got this.”

The mud-caked woman smirked back at the actor, who was still grinning from ear to ear. She rolled her eyes for effect but leaned in and pressed a quick peck to her husband’s lips before using her leverage on his shoulders to jump. Jensen responded easily, lifting her in one swift movement as if she weighed nothing and guiding her to step on his shoulder with her left foot. As soon as the ledge was in reach she wrapped her gloved hand around it and allowed Jared to take her other to assist. Every muscle in her body protested the action, but she pushed through until both legs were swung over the wall. She wasted no time in climbing down the other side just far enough that it was safe for her to jump the rest of the way.

Cheers erupted from her team waiting on the other side, much like they had after every other obstacle they had overcome. Y/n ran straight into her best friend, Genevieve’s, arms and embraced her tight. Both of them knew they were kicking ass at this, having argued with their respective husbands about being able to keep up with the guys. They trained for months beforehand, building up their strength and nothing made them more gleeful than proving they deserved their spots on the team.

The two relented their embrace as the three remaining team members clambered from the barrier. They all exchanged high fives before setting off down the trail. It didn’t take long before they arrived at yet another pool of murky water directly in their path. The group wasted no time in heading straight into the muddy hurdle. Despite the rays of the early spring sun beating down unhindered, the water was bone-chilling slowly. A shiver ran up her spine as soon as it met her heated skin and she couldn’t be sure if it was refreshing or just shocking. Y/n could also feel her feet sinking into the thick mud at the bottom of the pit, making each step difficult and slowing their process through the course.

Once on the other side, getting back out of the pit proved difficult, the sheer weight and stickiness of the surrounding sludge seeming to want to drag her back down with every advance. She finally made it out, running to the nearby grass to rub away what she could from her sneakers as her teammates joined her one by one. When everyone was back together, they once again continued on.

They jogged a few hundred feet before the majority slowed down as the day began to wear on them. Rich pulled the recording camera from Osric’s head as he squeezed through the group. The spritely man stuck it in everyone’s faces, asking a myriad of questions.

“That footage is going to be hell to cut together in the end,” Gen turned to Y/n with a giggle.

“I know that true,” she agreed before sending her only female counterpart a wink. “Watch this.” Y/n jogged ahead to be closer to the group and hollered. “Hey Speight, toss me the camera. I know what the fans are gonna want to see.” The guys all turned to look at her, confusion evident in their expressions. Rich frowned but obliged the woman’s request, who caught the small camera with ease. Her steps slowed to give the guys space, allowing her to fall back into stride with Genevieve. The woman rubbed the dried mud from the display as she steadied the recorder and pointed it at her target. Gen watched over her shoulder as her friend focused on the men’s backsides, one at a time.

“This is the view Gen and I have had all day,” she narrated, emphasizing ‘all’ for her intended audience. As she came up behind her Texan husband, he peered over his shoulder at her, taking in where she had the lens directed. He rolled his eyes at her as she rounded the group and jogged to where Jared was leading a couple of yards ahead.

“Now what are you doing?” Jensen furrowed his brow as she kept the camera pointed on them, now walking backward as the group continued to advance.

“I’m getting ahead of you so I can get you all in the frame,” she explained, her eyes still trained on the display to ensure she was getting at least semi-quality footage.

“You can see all of us, it’s a wide-angle lens,” Jensen retorted gruffly, earning a grimace from his wife. Her jaw dropped in offense to his comment, turning the lens on Jared.

“Alright, I see Ackles got an attitude around mile six,” she huffed to the towering man who just shook his head with a grin. Y/n spun back around, now seeing the group gaining on her and Jared.

“Turn it off, I’ll show you an attitude,” Jensen indicated the camera delicately balanced in her grip. His wife nearly choked on her breath, his unexpected words settling a heat deep in her belly.

“Oh, will you now?” The woman was quick to steady her composure and cocked a challenging eyebrow at the bowlegged man who now took up a majority of the display she was observing. The look set him off and he reached her in two swift strides, snatching the camera out of her hand and ducking to pull her over his shoulder before she could react to his movement. Y/n let out a shriek that faded into laughter as her husband gripped her legs against his body with both hands. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw him quickly toss the camera to one of the guys, jetting off away from the path and the crowd.

“Aw, come on, Ackles,” Jared’s voice faded as Jensen carried the woman to the nearby tree line. “Be quick!”

Shade enclosed the two completely before he set her back on her feet. Jensen pushed her back a step until her body hit rough bark. He placed one hand on either side of her head, caging her against the oak. She took a deep breath now that her stomach was no longer restricted by his shoulder and looked up at her husband through her lashes her stomach fluttering as she took in his hooded gaze.

“I feel like you want to say something.” A hint of a smile twitched at the corners of her lips which was instantly reciprocated by the actor. He raised a gloved hand, trailing his exposed fingertips light as a feather across her jaw and down her neck. His eyes were trained where his digit tucked into the collar of her destroyed tee and pulled it away from her skin.

“You’re cold,” he noted, the smug upturn of one corner of his lips telling her he had noticed her condition a long while ago. Y/n followed his gaze, noting the faint outline of her nipples seeping through the sports bra. She cursed silently, having hoped the material would have done a better job at hiding her modesty throughout the day.

“Maybe-”

“Maybe?” His eyes flickered up to hers, amusement hidden throughout the familiar verdant iris’ that she loved so much. Dragging out the moment, the woman chewed on her bottom lip and took the opportunity to enjoy the visage of her husband. His hair was a wild mess, pushed away from his face with a sweatband that matched the color of his shorts and tennis shoes. He was caked in mud from head to toe, much like she was. A lot of it had dried and caked to the skin of his face and his beard while his body was dripping with the foggy liquid and his sweat. Even through all of it, he was somehow still as beautiful as ever. Still Jensen Ackles.

“Maybe I’ve just been enjoying the view,” she teased him, her hands gripping the stretched-out material of his shirt to pull his body flush against her own. He was warm and refreshingly cool at the same time. Y/n breathed in his musky scent, mixed with the fading aroma of his signature cologne. It was her favorite thing in the world, something reserved just for her and the times he spent ravaging her body.

“I can’t take you anywhere can I?” The hot breath of his chuckle fanned over her face. He let go of his hold on her tee, the material shrinking slowly back against her wet skin.

“Not when you are looking like a whole damn meal,” she purred before pushing up on her toes to press her lips to his. He froze at first, his brain taking a second to catch up to her before he responded in kind. His hands fell from the tree to cradle her head in place as he deepened the kiss. Y/n let her body relax against the wood as her husband sucked her tongue into his mouth, pulling a moan from inside her chest. He picked up the pace, devouring her in the shadows of the competition that was continuing around them. As her hands dropped to the elastic of his shorts, he begrudgingly pulled away and gripped her wrists to halt her movements.

“Fuck, we can’t,” he whispered, resting his forehead against hers. His eyes were screwed shut as he breathed deeply. She exaggerated the pout on her face even though he wasn’t looking at her.

“That’s unfortunate, considering your little problem there.” Y/n jutted her hips forward, coming in contact with the situation now in her husband’s pants.

“Oh, I hate you so much right now,” Jensen pushed away from his wife, putting a respectable distance between the two of them.

“Hey, you are not the only one suffering right now. Lucky for me, my panties were already soaked.” Before he could utter a word, she ducked away and back into the heat of the Texas sun. He watched her jog away, but not before she glanced back over her shoulder, a wide grin on her face.

It didn’t take her long to catch up to the group, her and Jensen having not been gone as long as she thought. Her eyes scanned the crowd of people for Jared, knowing his tall frame would stick out to her first. And she was right, the mess of hair on top of his head towering over everyone else, guiding her to where they were huddled waiting for the group ahead to finish the next course.

“Where’s Ackles?” Jared chirped as she moved through the people to come and stand with the Kings of Con.

“He should be right behind me,” she snorted out the words in an attempt to hide the laughter bubbling up inside her. Jared narrowed his eyes at her as if he didn’t believe what she was telling him. Not that it mattered much, as her husband’s voice drifted towards them.

“I’m here, I’m here,” he promised, only slightly out of breath from sprinting to meet up with them. “What’s next?”

“‘Hold Your Wood’,” Jason answered as he turned to where a massive log was being placed in front of the lot of them. Y/n nearly fell over as the barely contained laughter spilled from her lips. She brought a hand to her face as the laughter turned silent and tears ran down her cheeks, the action muffling the squeals of delight that came with each breath.

“Yes, it’s all very funny, babe,” Jensen frowned at his wife, the downturn of his lips only fueling the hysterics inside her.

“What the hell is wrong with her?” Rich had the same look of concern on his face as the rest of the group. Even passersby were beginning to stare at Y/n where she stood shaking with laughter.

“Wood,” was the only word she could force past her lips as she held up her hands, gesturing to indicate length.

“Jensen had a boner,” Jared clarified for the group, ready to keep moving.

“Dude!” Jensen smacked his friend upside the back of his head, sending his wife into further giggles.

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry,” Y/n finally was able to force a semi-coherent sentence. “Jay, you are just too easy.”

“That’s what she said,” Rob and Rich shouted in tandem.

Jensen rounded on Osric, who still had one of the action cameras attached to his head, and pointed at the lens. “You can cut that out.”

“No,” Y/n protested, grabbing her husband’s arms as he reached for the Go Pro. “Keep it in.”

Forevers: @22sarah08 @440mxs-wife @akshi8278 @anathewierdo @asgoodasdancingqueen @atc74 @awesome-badass-cafeteria-sauce @briagallen @callmekda @dawnie1988 @deandreamernp @deangirl93 @deanwanddamons @ellewritesfix05 @emoryhemsworth @foxyjwls007 @hobby27 @janicho88 @jbsgirl4ever11 @jensengirl83 @lunarmoon8 @lyarr24 @mishacollins4evah @miss-nerd95 @mrsjenniferwinchester @msmarvelouswinchester @polina-93 @sleepylunarwolf @squirrelnotsam @stiles-stilinski-24-dylan @suckmyapplejacks @supraveng @tatted-trina6 @thoughts-and-funnies @traceyaudette @tranquility-or-chaos @waywardbeanie @winchest09

A line through your URL means Tumblr won’t let me tag you... sorry :/

212 notes · View notes

blackkatmagic · 4 years ago

Note

Dooku/Nico, where they each have one of the Skywalker Twins as a padawan

“You what?” Luke says a little too loudly, voice echoing across the Archives.

Nico can see the instinctive, predatory way Jocasta snaps to attention, head coming up like a nexu scenting a wounded nerf, but before she can move to engage he clears his throat delicately, drawing her attention. Jocasta looks over, entirely unimpressed, and raises a brow at him, and Nico raises one back, flicking a pointed glance over at where Dooku is leafing through past mission reports from the planet he’s been assigned to. Half of his attention is trained on Luke, though, and from the suspicious slant to his expression, he’s still convinced that Leia is a bad influence.

Which is ridiculous, honestly. It’s Nico who’s the bad influence. Leia just helps things along.

Jocasta gives him a gimlet stare from across her desk, but after a long moment she rolls her eyes and clearly surrenders to the nonsense that’s about to invade her Archives. That might as well be permission, so Nico smirks and goes back to his diagrams of the palace of the most recent Hutt crime lord to think he can encroach on Republic space and sentient rights, counting down in his head.

It only takes until a count of thirty before there's a scuffle, a yelp, a hiss, and then Leia promptly drags her twin out from a bank of computer terminals and frog-marches him straight towards Nico.

“Master!” she says, not quite too loud, but only because she’s run enough missions with Jocasta working alongside them to have a deep respect for Jocasta’s aim and the vase full of rubber balls she keeps at her elbow at all times. “Master, Luke wants to come with us on our mission.”

Across from Nico, Dooku freezes.

Nico does not stroke his mustache as he sits back, if only because Tae says it doesn’t hide his smirk at all. Instead, he gives Luke a kind smile where the boy is hovering behind Leia, looking hopeful.

“Come with us?” he echoes, perfectly innocent. “You are always welcome on our missions, Luke, and I truly love having the company of another skilled swordsman, especially as few are your sister’s match. And we could likely use the help, given our target. But I'm afraid the decision lies with your Master. I cannot take another Jedi’s padawan without permission.”

“And you aren’t going to get it, Diath,” Dooku says pointedly, turning and rising to his feet to loom over Nico's table. Nico would be more intimidated if he didn’t remember Dooku before he hit his growth spurt, and he raises a brow, deliberately leaning back in his chair. Slouching insouciantly, his old Master might have said, but if anyone has earned insouciant slouching by being an insufferable asshat, it’s Dooku, so Nico has no regrets.

“I won't?” he says, feigning surprise. The way that Jocasta presses a hand over her eyes says he’s going it badly, but Leia is the only one who would call him on it and she currently looks impossibly smug, because she knows precisely what’s happening. “Training with other Masters is an important method of growth for young Jedi, Dooku. Would you really deny your padawan a learning experience?”

On cue, Luke fixes a beseeching look on his Master, all wide blue eyes and tentative hope. Clearly Leia isn't the only one who’s realized what’s happening here.

“A learning experience, no,” Dooku says precisely, looking down his long nose at Nico. “What you run, however, are not missions, Diath, they are disasters. I will not have my padawan getting involved in such things.”

Leia scoffs, folding her arms over her chest, and levels a dark look at the back of Dooku's head. Nico doesn’t waver, simply raises a brow at him and deliberately turns his diagram of the Hutt’s palace around.

“It’s on Nar Kreeta,” he says, perfectly mild. “I do so remember how you love Nar Kreeta, old friend.”

Dooku's face does something complicated, finally settling on contained rage. “You are not dragging my padawan to Nar Kreeta alone, Nico, I refuse—”

Jocasta drops her head onto her desk and quietly thumps her forehead into the wood, radiating disbelieving despair.

“Oh?” Nico says, pouncing on the opening. “Then you’ll come, how delightful. All right, Luke, Leia, off you go. Get your things and meet us at the upper landing platform—”

Dooku splutters. “Diath, I am not—”

It’s entirely useless. Luke and Leia bolt for the main doors, moving faster than Nico can recall seeing them do so before. They're gone in an instant, and Dooku takes one step after them, looking helpless, and then freezes like he just realized he showed a weakness.

If he thinks that’s the sort of thing Nico is bothered by, he forgets that Nico used to grind his face into the mud in the gardens and somehow still appreciates it as a nice face. Snorting, Nico shoves the chair on the other side of the table out with one foot, waving Dooku into it.

“If you keep making that face, it will stick,” he says, more than a little smug. Dooku gives him a dark look, and Nico smirks in return. “Really, Dooku, if you ever let your padawan do anything interesting, you wouldn’t have this problem—”

Dooku settles primly in the seat, snatching the diagrams out from under Nico's fingers. “You’ll forgive me if I don’t take advice from someone who had to be rescued by his former padawan and a bounty hunter two weeks ago, along with his padawan,” he says acidly. “If you’re letting her cavort with Jango Fett—”

“I rather think it’s Boba Fett she’s more interested in cavorting with,” Nico says, and pegs Dooku between the eyes with his stylus. Jocasta isn't the only one who cultivated perfect aim during their padawan days. “And it’s bold of you to throw stones when your grandpadawan is Anakin Skywalker, Dooku. I heard all about the run-in with Captain Ohnaka.”

Dooku's grimace is deep, unhappy, and pained, even as he deliberately tucks Nico's favorite stylus into his pocket. “Close your mouth, Diath,” he says, and Nico laughs in his face.

“Back to Nar Kreeta,” he says, raising a pointed brow at Dooku. “Force, but it’s been…twenty years?”

“Fifteen,” Dooku corrects automatically, and then freezes like he’s been caught out.

Nico isn't tasteless enough to keep harping on his victory when they both know that he’s won. Well. He’s not tasteless enough to do it every time, but considering how often Dooku is wrong that has to count for something. “Fifteen, my mistake,” he corrects easily, and when Dooku glances up, eyes narrowed, Nico catches his gaze and holds it. Taking Anakin as a padawan, to fulfill Qui-Gon’s last request, was a good change for him. Nico will admit that without hesitation. Everything that’s come after has only helped. “Do you think that beach is still there?”

Dooku doesn’t say anything for a long moment, but his fingers tighten on the edges of the map, and he looks away.

“Yet more proof that you treat the sacred role of the Jedi as nothing but a joke,” he says derisively. “It’s no wonder your hellion of a padawan is such a bad influence.”

“I seem to recall,” Nico says, “that we were hellions in our own right once. Back before you abandoned your sense of adventure on a mission and never went back for it.”

“You mean when I finally acquired a sense of taste?” Dooku shoots back, and Nico scoffs. He’s out of styluses, but he reaches for a thick book as Dooku starts to rise threateningly—

“Oh, for the sake of the Force and all who dwell in it,” Jocasta says, vastly annoyed, and rounds on them. “Get out of my Archives and flirt somewhere else, the both of you!”

[On AO3]

#my writing #thelastbattlecry #kat answers #nicodooku

111 notes · View notes

bonjour-rainycity · 4 years ago

Text

Double Heart | Chapter Six ~ Haldir

|previous part|

Pairing: Haldir x OFC

Rating: PG

Word count: 4044

Warnings: None

**Read on Ao3 under the user “bonjour_rainycity” if you prefer!**

A/n Happy Thursday! Thanks for all your responses so far -- I’m so grateful! Alright, time to see what Haldir thinks of all this!

We are sixteen days into our journey when we reach the mountains.

We made good time, considering all the stops and adjusting for our human guests. Now that I know they are more capable than I anticipated, I will be pushing us to clear the ranges in five days. I do not want to travel these mountains any longer than necessary.

Everyone feels the tension. My right hand never leaves the hilt of my sword and I know my brothers travel in a similar fashion. While I am always careful when traveling through the orc-infested mountains, this time more so than usual. The stakes are higher. Lavandil is trusting me to deliver her betrothed to her in one piece. My brothers and Baranor are trusting me to guide them safely on this treacherous journey. And the humans…

Well. They can’t possibly know what they’ve gotten into, so that’s on me, too. They have no experience in battle, nor do they seem ready for a fight. I worry they’ve never even seen an orc, at least not that they can remember. I am as responsible for them as I am for the kin that accompany me.

I turn on Faervel to face my companions, trusting Orophin to watch my back as I take in those that follow me. My brothers are watchful like I am, one hand on a weapon, one hand holding the reins. Their eyes constantly observe our surroundings, never lingering on one spot for too long. Baranor looks mildly nervous — this is only his fifth pass through the mountains and I know his mind is running through his previous journey, remembering the warden we once nearly lost to a poisoned arrow. A dull ache throbs in my left shoulder. The wound is long ago healed — the memories, however, are not.

Cosima holds tight to Rumil, looking around worriedly. I never told her what we might face in the mountains, and maybe that wasn’t the right decision. Every sound makes her jump — she’s obviously expecting to be attacked at any second.

My eyes shift to Alexander, the most recent addition to our group, and I fight the urge to narrow my eyes. I don’t trust him. Not that I automatically trusted Cosima, but she hasn’t given me any reason to be suspicious. She helps with the chores and talks with us freely, even if she has been pulling back a little lately. Alexander can’t boast the same. He’s been nothing but standoffish and keeps himself isolated from the group — dragging Cosima with him.

He glowers at me, and I return his glare. Of course, mine has the force of nearly three thousand years as Marchwarden behind it, and the human quickly looks away.

I return to my inspection of the group. Cosima’s cloak is a beautiful, vibrant red—obviously made for style rather than the stealth and durability needed for travel. I haven’t the faintest idea why she would choose to dress that way if she knew she’d be traveling, nor what kind of leader wouldn’t catch it and make her change. This only serves to irritate the thought that’s been budding in the back of my mind since her arrival. Maybe she really isn’t from our world. Stranger things have happened. Alexander, too, has an unusual cloak, though not as bad as Cosima’s. His is a deep forest green — expensive, the kind that would take months of precise dyeing. Still a suitable color for travel, but not at all practical — already, it’s darkening with mud kicked up on our journey, ruining the maker’s handiwork. I don’t understand it and the mystery of their origins are too much to ponder on the road. So I resolve to deal with what I can now and handle the rest later. At present, Cosima can’t travel through the mountains in that bright red cloak.

I get her attention. “Put your cloak away in your bag, it’s too noticeable. If you get cold, someone will lend you theirs.” She visibly blanches at my words but balances herself atop Roch to do as I say. She is so clearly frightened and part of me wants to reassure her, to tell her not to worry, it’s just a precaution. But I can’t. Lying might make her feel better, but it would also set her at a disadvantage. It is better for her to be on edge. It will keep her sharp, and staying sharp can be the difference between life and death. I wouldn’t sugarcoat it for one of my wardens, so I won’t sugarcoat it for her.

Still, I can’t help myself from offering her some measure of security. I instruct Rumil to take position behind me and send Orophin to guard the back of our line. Perhaps Cosima will feel better being towards the middle of the group rather than at the very back — it is safer.

I put on my most well-practiced fortifying look and address the group. “Remember to ration your water — we won’t come across another stream for some time. With luck and perseverance, we will reach Imladris in five days. Cosima and Alexander — if we are attacked, stay on your horses. Rumil and Baranor will protect you.”

Rumil chuckles lowly and leans back in his seat to whisper to Cosima. “I can’t keep you safe if you strangle me first. Relax.”

Cosima laughs sheepishly and seems to make a concentrated effort at loosening her arms around Rumil.

I pull my eyes away, turning to look the right way down the path.

And off we go.

{***}

Weather in the mountains is unpredictable. There’s a faint breeze hinting at the possibility of rain, and I pray against it. Humans are so fragile compared to elves and I worry the two newcomers won’t do well in another day of downpour. I don’t mind the harsher conditions, my brothers, either — Valar knows how many drills we’ve run, battles we’ve fought in the extremes. But the humans, even Baranor, aren’t so conditioned.

I stop our company a little later than usual and send Rumil and Orophin to take first watch. Baranor pulls Alexander aside to redress the wound on his leg. Cosima and I stay to tend to the horses.

She glances at me from where she brushes Roch’s coat. I raise an eyebrow, cleaning my own horse. She purses her lips and I can tell that she’s scrutinizing me.

“You don’t like the mountains.”

There’s no point in lying. “No. Too many places for the enemy to hide.”

She’s silent for a moment, likely thinking through my words. Unexpectedly, I feel the bite of regret — I probably just scared her again. I should have kept my mouth shut.

Thankfully though, she doesn’t seem frightened. She smiles, a sort of serenity settling on her. “It’s kind of pretty though, if you can find a moment to enjoy it. Did you see the sun sinking over that peak way in front of us? It turned the sky purple and gold.”

I did notice the sky, but only briefly. I hadn’t even stopped to ponder its beauty, only checked to ensure no one hid on the horizon.

She sees the answer in my face and grins, shaking her head. “Maybe you’ll be able to relax once we reach Imladris. What’s it like, there?”

Now it’s my turn to smile, recalling my second favorite place in the world. “Beautiful — much more so than these mountains. There are waterfalls taller than any I’ve ever seen and they cast rainbows at sunrise and sunset. The main city rests on those falls and you can see the water sweeping under you, falling over the cliffs.”

She stares at Roch’s coat, a distant look in her eye. “How long are you planning to stay?”

You. Her question hangs between us as I analyze her use of the word. She didn’t say ‘we’ or make any reference to herself and Alexander. She’s making no promise to stay. That realization shouldn’t bother me, but, nevertheless, I feel discomfort settle in my stomach. I try to distract myself by answering her question. “A month or two, three at most. The journey home will take about three weeks and I want us in Lothlórien well before winter sets in.”

“What’s your favorite food?”

I blink, trying to follow her line of reasoning. I’ve got nothing. “How does that relate to what I just said?”

She closes her eyes, the peace leaving her and morphing into a pleading, distressed look. “Please just answer the question.”

The feeling in my stomach worsens and I hurry to say something to try and put her more at ease. “Honeyed breadrolls,” I blurt, not even sure if that’s my favorite.

She laughs weakly, looking at me from the side of her eyes. “That’s not a balanced meal.”

I grin, relieved to see the stress beginning to fade from her face. “You said favorite food, not healthiest.”

“Oh right, my bad.” She rolls her eyes, a playful light there that wasn’t present before.

Evidently annoyed with the lack of attention, Roch bumps his head against Cosima’s shoulder, snorting noisily. She giggles and pets the horse affectionately.

“He likes you,” I observe, the sight of them bringing a smile to my face.

Cosima shrugs. “He just wants snacks.”

There’s a pause and I feel a sense of urgency, needing to fill the silence before the conversation can come to an end. “What’s yours?”

She furrows her eyebrows. “Hm?”

“Your favorite food.”

“Oh.” She pauses, looking at the ground in thought. When her eyes return to mine, she looks a little lost. “I don’t know. I don’t mind the lembas bread and fruits, though I couldn’t say for sure if it’s my favorite because I can’t remember much from my homeworld. I guess—well, I do remember some food here and there, but nothing stands out as my all-time favorite.”

Her admission seems to make her sad. I can understand that — it must be terrible to not know who you were or what your life was like. Once again, I feel the need to make her feel better. “Elrond won’t let us go hungry. There will be many new things for you to try.”

She opens her mouth, a spark lighting in her eyes, ready to respond.

The loud, heavy footsteps give away Alexander’s approach. Cosima hears it too and turns to see her incoming friend.

I let my face fall into a neutral expression, not entirely pleased with Alexander’s arrival. He is a lost human in need of help, just like Cosima, so I will offer him my protection and aid, just as I did to the woman at my side.

But that doesn’t mean I have to like him.

From what I’ve observed, he has a manipulative streak that I do not trust. I can understand not being ready to accept his new reality, but Cosima is trying to move on. He shouldn’t try to interfere with her progress.

He addresses Cosima only. “I’ve got dinner for us both. Meet me on the rock when you’re done?”

She shifts her feet, looking uncertain.

“No, you will stay with the main camp.” I hear my voice before I make the actual decision to speak. Cosima nods automatically—and, is it my imagination, or does she look a little relieved?Alexander only grimaces.

“Why?”

A muscle twitches in my cheek. I’m used to leading wardens that follow my every order. In this environment, one that is fraught with danger and requires constant attention and strict regimentation, I don’t like my orders being questioned. It’s not only a waste of time, but a danger to us all. I know well from the battlefield that hesitation—that single moment of questioning—can be the difference between life and death.

I raise an eyebrow, meeting the human’s challenging gaze. “The danger is heightened in these mountains. While you travel with my company, I am responsible for your safety. I will not have you all spread out — it makes it more difficult to protect you should the need arise.”

“I don’t want to sleep on a rock, anyway.” Cosima surprises us both by speaking up.

Alexander squints, looking quite caught off guard that she’s sided against him. “What—“

“Haldir’s right. It’s too dangerous and besides, the grass is softer.”

Alexander opens and closes his mouth a few times, then exhales, shaking his head and stomping back to camp. Cosima turns to Roch and resumes brushing his coat, a new tension in her jaw.

I try to broach the subject delicately. I’m not entirely sure it’s my business, but I suppose any information into the pasts of these mysterious humans is useful. “Do you remember much of your relationship with Alexander from before? Do you know what he was like?”

She closes her eyes—something she does when she’s stressed, I note—and sighs before opening them again. “I’ve been asking myself that a lot recently. I get that this whole…whatever it is, is impossible. I know that. And he does, too, which is why he’s having such a hard time adjusting.”

I bristle at the insinuation that I and my world aren’t real, but then make myself relax, putting myself in Cosima’s shoes. How would I feel if I woke up in a world completely different from the little I could remember?

She continues. “But I like it here. It’s beautiful and exciting and there’s so much to explore…I’m making friends.” She smiles up at me shyly, and I immediately return it. We are friends. I don’t know when or how it happened but we are. I like having her around.

“But with Alex…” She shrugs her shoulders. “I don’t know. I’m having a hard time not accepting my life here because it’s all I really know. I don’t have anything else to hold on to. Alex can’t seem to do that…I wonder if he remembers more than he lets on.”

I keep my expression carefully blank. I’ve been pondering the same thing. Something she said does bother me, though. She didn’t say she’s having a hard time accepting our world, but not accepting it. What’s holding her back? I try to dig around. “Cosima, this is your world now. Why wouldn’t you want to accept it?”

She shakes her head slowly, the sadness creeping back. “I can’t accept my life here because there’s no way it’s possible. I trust you and your brothers and Baranor, but something about this place is off. It’s completely unnatural—from what I remember of my world, we don’t have elves. We have cars instead of horses and ways to communicate that stretch across the globe.” Her voice rises in pitch, the first misty hints of tears entering her eyes. “And there’s only one world. There’s no way to go back or forward in time or hop to another planet or—”

“That you know,” I correct, unable to keep my mouth shut any longer. Seeing her struggle is not only upsetting, it’s frustrating. She is here, and this world is as real as she is, as real as I am. All this back and forth is pointless. “You said it yourself—you don’t remember much about your home world. And even if you remembered everything, who’s to say that you could know everything? For all you know, you fell asleep in your world and woke up in mine. And, at present, I don’t know of any way to send you back. Elrond or the Lady might, but that’s not a question we can answer until later. So for now, you need to accept this world. Because you are here. This world is real and your life here is real.”

She takes in a shaky breath.

I freeze. Oh Valar. I’ve made her cry.

I hurry to try to undo it. “Cosima—”

“No.” She cuts me off, wiping the corner of her eyes with her sleeve. “I needed to hear that. You’re right. I’m only wasting time and stressing myself out with all this. Because regardless of what I think is logical or possible, the fact remains that I am here in Arda and I feel real and alive. And so does this world. And so do you.” Her eyes, still shiny with tears, meet mine and she offers me a watery smile.

I accept it with a breath of relief and work consciously to soften my tone. “I’m sorry. I did not mean to make you cry.”

“Oh,” she chuckles softly, still wiping away her tears. “I don’t think it’s your fault. I’m just tired and stressed and—what was it you said again?” She throws me a teasing look and I know she’s about to bring up my earlier comment. “You said I was sensitive. That’s right.”

I hold back a groan. Probably not the most well-advised thing I’ve ever said. “I only meant that you are more expressive with your emotions than I or others that—”

“Nope. I’m gonna stop you right there.” She holds up a hand, thankfully still in a joking mood. “You’ll only make it worse for yourself.”

She’s probably right. So I halt my attempts, shaking my head and laughing at myself. “I suppose I should apologize for that too?”

She shrugs off-handedly. “Nah. Because for the record, about the time you decided I was sensitive, I decided you’re way too serious.”

And, with that, she sets Roch free to graze and jaunts back to camp.

{***}

Aside from the brief interlude with Cosima, I don’t allow myself to relax as we continue through the mountains. There are too many peaks and rocks and caves and crevices where the enemy can hide. All it would take is one well-aimed arrow to fell one of my companions, or myself. I have to be vigilant. They’re trusting me, and I must not let them down.

{***}

On the third night in the mountains, Rumil and Orophin stage a sort of intervention, trying to force me into a full night’s rest.

“Brother, you have stood watch every night for the past five nights and most of the nights before that.”

“I am fine,” I retort, straightening my back. “I am perfectly capable of sacrificing rest to keep watch of our surroundings.”

“But without rest you will grow weary and slow,” Orophin adds, planting himself to stop me from walking past him. “You will not be at your best and cannot keep us safe as you could if you had proper rest.” He raises his voice to drown out my protests. “Rumil and I will stand watch all night—we will be vigilant.”

“Now, go lay down and get a full night’s rest willingly, or Baranor is prepared to drug you.” At this, Rumil smiles broadly. He is only joking. And, capable though Baranor is, I have no doubt in my ability to stop him from forcing herbs into my mouth.

But my brothers have a point. Though I am used to many restless nights from battle and my patrol of the borders, I have not slept for more than a few hours in many nights. I feel the heaviness in my eyes, the weariness in my bones, and, though I know I could push through, it is of no benefit to my company. So, reluctantly, I sheathe my sword, nodding to my brothers. “Wake me if there is any trouble.”

Orophin agrees readily. “Of course. You’ve trained us well.”

At this, I must grin, remembering the countless hours I put into developing and perfecting their skills. “I know.”

I leave the outcropping of rocks that has become our watch station and jog the short distance back to camp.

“Wow, look who’s decided to join us for a change,” Cosima jokes. There’s a note in her voice that tells me she had knowledge of, if not a hand in, my brothers’ plan.

I roll my eyes, matching her teasing tone. “I couldn’t leave the three of you unattended for long—who knows the trouble you could have gotten in?”

“Oh, yeah. Baranor was about to redress Alex’s wound — troublesome, indeed.”

I sit on the empty mat in between her and Baranor, greeting my elven friend with a nod. Alexander doesn’t acknowledge me, so I don’t acknowledge him.

Cosima passes me a bundle of leaves containing a ration of lembas bread and a handful of blackberries. I smile my thanks and take the food eagerly—I haven’t eaten since morning.

“Glad to see you resting, mellon nîn,” Baranor nods in my direction then returns his attention to Alexander’s leg. The herbs and healing power in Baranor’s spirit have done wonders, but the traveling aggravates the wound. Really, he should take a few days to rest, but we do not have that luxury.

Cosima breaks a piece off her own bread. “How long until we reach Imladris?”

“Within three days, I imagine.” It’s an estimate, but a fairly accurate one, I’d wager. After many journeys, I know these mountains quite well.

She smiles. “That’s not too bad.”

“Agreed.” Baranor sighs and nods, indicating that he’s done dressing Alexander’s wound. He returns to his mat on the other side of our bags, completing the circle we lounge in.

A particularly strong gust of wind blows my hair around. Cosima shudders, pulling her blanket tighter over her shoulders — her cloak is still in her bag. Temperature doesn’t bother elves in the same way it does humans, I remember. I shed my cloak of deep grey, holding it out for her to take. “Here.”

Her eyes go wide, and she shakes her head vehemently. “Oh, don’t worry about it. I don’t want you to be—”

“Take the cloak, Cosima.”

She bites back a smile, and I know why. Even as I was trying to be nice, I still ended up making it an order. Oops. But it did the trick. She takes the cloak, wrapping herself tightly in it and then adding the blanket for an extra layer of warmth. “Thank you.”

I only nod in response. After all, it’s my job to see that each member of my company is cared for. That includes fragile humans who could possibly die from exposure to the elements. And, thankfully, she does look much warmer now — her shivers have subsided and the wind only has the chance to bother her face, as the rest of her body is encapsulated in a cocoon of cloth.

“So Haldir, what do you do?” Alexander’s direct question catches me off guard, as well as the suspicion behind it.

I bristle. “Pardon?”

Alexander raises his chin, eyes narrowed at me. “What is your job? Because you seem awfully comfortable ordering people around.”

I forget how immature humans can be. I push against the annoyance that rises within me. “I am charged with the protection of my realm.”

“So you left it unguarded?”

I speak through clenched teeth. “I took leave.”

“So if you’re on leave then why are you still in charge? We’re nowhere near your realm.”

I feel my pulse quicken. “The others have accepted my authority. I am the most experienced—”

“Have I accepted your authority? Has Cosima?” He raises a challenging eyebrow.

“Uh, don’t bring me into this,” Cosima practically yelps, pulling the fabric tighter around her.

“Yes, this is a good time to stop,” Baranor interjects, looking completely serene — the exact opposite of how Alexander and I must look.

“It’s getting late,” Cosima agrees, darting nervous looks between me and her human friend. “We should all get some sleep.”

Alexander and I stare each other down. I feel no small amount of pride when he breaks his gaze first, then admonish myself for my immaturity. I should have handled that better — I know better than he does. Unbidden, my eyes dart to Cosima. Has my arguing with her closest friend upset her?

But thankfully, she smiles at me when my eyes meet hers, then reclines on her mat. Her voice rings over the small clearing, effectively ending any discussion between us all for the evening. Probably for the best. “Goodnight.”

And, though I am still angry, my body and mind cannot ignore how exhausted I am after days of insufficient sleep. It doesn’t take long for me to find rest.

A/n Thanks for reading! Likes, comments, and reblogs make my day :) Let me know if you would like a tag! And if you’re having trouble being tagged, try subscribing on Ao3! That will notify you automatically when I post there.

|next part|

|masterlist|

Tolkien tag list: @anangelwhodidntfall @eru-vande

Double Heart tag list: @lainphotography @fangirl-nonsense @themerriweathermage @thophil2941btw @kenobiguacamole @wishingtobeinadifferentuniverse @from-patroclus-with-love @boywivlove @tolkien-apologist @ordinarymom1

**Strikethrough means Tumblr won’t let me tag you**

58 notes · View notes

winchestershiresauce · 4 years ago

Text

Play Your Cards Right

Summary: Plus-sized hunter!Reader runs into Dean Winchester in a dive bar. Things get steamy.

Dean x Reader

2237 words

Warnings: NSFW, 18+ - smut

Note: I posted this on AO3 forever ago but I’ve decided to come to tumblr now that I’m writing more. I’m pretty proud of this one! Enjoy!

You sat heavily on the barstool, half a cold beer in your hand. Your head rested between the pointer finger and thumb of your other hand. You were a bit sore and a bit tired, but mostly, you were just happy that this hunt was over. This stupid werewolf in stupid Nowhere, MO had caused you more frustration that you’d like to admit, but you’d finally ganked the bastard.

Your eyes drifted around the room, taking in the dive bar for all that it was. The lights were dim, the varnish was peeling off the wood bar, the coasters were falling apart, and everyone was wearing jeans with holes not meticulously put there for fashion but by good, hard work. It was just your thing. Here, no one gave a shit that your hair was up in a messy ponytail, your boots had mud -- and shit, was that blood? -- caked on them, and your “more cushion” body was packed into comfy jeans, a tight tank top, and a loose, open flannel. Here, you could drink too much beer and stumble across the street to your sketchy hotel room and not worry about whether you were impressing anyone or not. Hell, you’d be out of this town by noon tomorrow and you’d never see any of these people or places again: just the way you liked it.

“If I didn’t know any better, I’d say this bitch beat us to our case,” said a familiar voice as his solid form sauntered over to your side of the bar. Well, so much for never seeing anyone from this bar again: you were quite familiar with the hunter to whom that voice belonged. You lifted your head and turned to face the man addressing you.

“What a surprise, I’ve beaten Dean Winchester to the punch again,” you replied with a smirk. He draped his arm around your shoulders and motioned to the bartender for two shots of whiskey.

“You don’t have to be so smug about it, sweetheart,” Dean answered, feigning offense, “How have things been? Killed anything exciting lately?” You rolled your eyes a bit and readjusted in your seat. While you and the Winchester brothers weren’t exactly close, you considered them friends. There was something to say about the camaraderie (and slight competition) between hunters.

“Aside from the werewolf you were apparently coming for?” you retorted. The bartender brought over the whiskeys and Dean threw money on the bar. He handed you one of the small glasses filled with just-barely-above-bottom-shelf golden whiskey and held the other up. The two of you clinked the glasses together and tipped the god-awful-but-at-least-it’s-booze spirit back into your mouths and down your throats. Dean pulled another bar stool up close to you and sat down, his arm still draped over your shoulders.

“I fully blame Sam for miscalculating the lunar cycle,” Dean replied with a small laugh. “But maybe if I play my cards right, I’ll get to conquer a different kind of beast tonight.” He gave you a quick wink before taking a sip of the beer the bartender had set down in front of him. You raised your eyebrows and placed a hand on his denim-clad thigh.

“How good of a card player are you?” you asked with a hint of sass.

His lips curled to mirror your smirk as he replied, “I’m a damn good card player, and you know that.” He leaned in close to your ear: so close that his bottom lip lightly brushed your ear lobe as he whispered, “And that’s not the only thing I’m damn good at.” His hand moved to squeeze your thick thigh and he licked his lips. Your breath hitched in your throat a little. God, he was good. You’d certainly thought about fucking the smug hunter before, and you were really thinking about it now.

“Tell me more,” you responded, trying to play it cool. You took another swig of your beer, choosing to pretend that you could not feel your arousal beginning to soak your panties.

Dangerous lust flashed across his eyes. “I’d rather show you,” he said, each word piercing through to your core. The two of you had never done this before, and you were a little surprised at how quickly things were moving. You weren’t insecure about your chubby body, but you briefly thought about how you definitely could have dressed in a way that flattered your assets better. You shouldn’t have been surprised that you would pick someone up -- or, more accurately, be picked up -- on the night you had put zero effort into your appearance. You would’ve worn a different, tighter pair of jeans tonight if you’d known Dean Winchester would be strutting into the bar.

You nodded wordlessly as he gripped your soft thigh a little tighter. His other arm slowly dropped down from your shoulders to wrap around your waist. His calloused fingers touched the soft bare skin of your partially exposed belly and sent electricity throughout your skin.

“I think tasting you is long overdue,” he whispered as he stood up beside you. Suddenly his arms were wrapped around your middle and his chest was pressed against your back. His hot breath caressed your neck and you were done for. You may be a hunter, but you were still a red-blooded human with needs. You stood up, threw twenty bucks on the bar, and turned to face the other hunter. You reached up to tangle your fingers in his hair, causing your tank top to lift a bit more, exposing the stretch marks that ran down your side.

“I’m not usually this easy, Winchester, but get your ass to my motel room,” you said into his ear. You placed light kisses along his jawline and he groaned softly as he pulled you tighter to him.

“I thought you’d never ask,” Dean replied. He grabbed your hand and all but dragged you out into the night air. You silently thanked every god in the book that your motel was just across the street as you felt the familiar hunger of lust pulse through your body.

The instant you closed the motel room door behind you, Dean had your back pressed against it. He grabbed your face roughly in both hands and his slightly chapped lips collided with your own. With one hand in his hair and one hand on his hip, you pulled him in close to you. You parted your lips enough to let his tongue tangle with yours, and you could feel yourself getting exponentially wetter by the second.

With his hand in your hair, he tilted your head back to more thoroughly expose your neck to him. Before you could even react, Dean was placing hungry kisses and light nips across the sensitive flesh. You let out a soft moan in response and he moved his free hand to roughly cup your ass. Wasting no time, your fingers found the hem of his shirt and lifted to pull it over his head. He barely missed a beat kissing and sucking at your throat as he allowed the t-shirt to be removed. He ran his hands across your collarbone to slide your open flannel over your shoulders, and you shrugged it to the floor. Next, off came your tank top, and Dean paused to take in the sight of you nearly spilling out of your favorite black lace bra.

“What?” you asked with a slight laugh, unsure whether you should be flattered or self-conscious of his stare.

“Nothing. You’re just even sexier than I expected,” he replied before crashing his lips into yours again. You would have rolled your eyes if you weren’t so distracted by the feeling of need pulsing between your thighs.

Continuing to kiss you hungrily, Dean ran his nimble fingers down the naked flesh of your side before moving to unbutton your jeans. His kisses moved from your lips, up your jaw, and to the sensitive spot behind your ear and he easily maneuvered your jeans off your hips. You could feel his rock-hard erection against your soft stomach and a shiver ran up your spine. You grabbed his face, kissing him harder, and swiftly directed him to the bed. The backs of his legs hit the edge of the bed and, in one fluid movement, he’d turned the two of you around and pushed you back onto the bed. Before you could even begin to sit up, Dean was gripping your jeans and panties and yanking them off of you.

“I told you I wanted to taste you,” he said as your head arched back in anticipation. Dean roughly grabbed your round hips and jerked you to the edge of the bed. On his knees, he moved your heavy legs to his shoulders, giving him the perfect view of just how wet you were. A lustful smirk danced across his lips before he moved to take your aching clit into his mouth. You gasped with pleasure at the sudden sensation, losing your breath as he moved his tongue across the sensitive bundle of nerves.

“Fuck, Dean,” you panted as his mouth danced over your soaked, sensitive slit. His tongue swirled around your aching bud, and you could already feel your orgasm building. With each circle his tongue made around your clit, tension built in your muscles. Your thighs, rested firmly on Dean’s shoulders, tightened with pleasure as he stuck first one finger, then two, inside you. He bent his fingers toward him, stroking against the sweet spot inside your slick entrance as if beckoning for your climax.

“Come for me,” Dean growled, his face still buried in the wetness between your thighs. He anchored his mouth around your clit, his tongue flicking over the tip, and you felt the shockwave pulse through your body. Your thighs clamped tight around Dean’s head as your orgasm quivered through every muscle. He continued his pattern of licking and sucking as each wave of pleasure pulsed through you.

As your body began to relax, Dean ran his hands along the soft, warm skin of your thighs, then your hips, and your belly. He grinned as his every touch sent ripples across your skin. He stretched his hands across your tummy and up to your breasts as he slowly stood. You sat up, moving your legs from his shoulders to his waist, and hungrily pulled his mouth to yours. He let out a soft groan as you teased his lips with your tongue, tasting yourself on every millimeter of his mouth.

His hands moved up your back to unclasp the bra holding your large, soft breasts against you. He placed greedy, open-mouthed kisses across your neck. You could feel your arousal aching for more as he tossed your bra aside and began to tantalize your nipples. He rolled the hard nub under his thumb and you pressed into him. You wanted to feel his touch on every part of you. You ran your hand down his hard chest, sweeping subtly over his own nipples, before reaching to unbutton his jeans. You plunged your hand into his boxers to wrap your soft, nimble fingers around his hard, throbbing length. He bit his lip to stifle the moan and rocked his hips into your hand. You entwined the fingers of your other hand tightly into his hair, needily pulling his whole body against you.

Before you knew it, you were on your back in the middle of the bed and Dean was crawling up to meet your mouth with more hungry kisses, having hastily stepped out of his jeans and boxer briefs. His large hand held the back of your head, pushing you forward to his meet his violent kisses.

“I need you inside me,” you gasped breathlessly in his ear. His cock twitched in your hand as you brought him toward your waiting entrance. It wasn’t that you never expected to fuck Dean Winchester, but the sound of your name cascading from his lips as his erection plunged into you was almost more than you could handle. With one hand roughly on your hip, he delved deep into you and you could feel your breath hitch with each thrust.

Finding the perfect rhythm, your hips crashed into each other as he pumped his cock in and out of you. He took your right nipple into his mouth and tweaked it with his tongue. Your back arched, causing his length to slam into your sweet spot. Your body begged for release as the overload of pleasure and sensation ripped through you like lightning. His pace quickened as he plunged into you harder and faster. His teeth grazed your nipple and you gasped. Your fingernails dug sharply into his shoulder blade and he thrust into you deeper than you thought possible. Your walls spasmed around him as you came again. Your every pore filled with warmth as the waves of your high quivered through you. His grip on your hip tightened as he reached his own high, your name dripping off his lips as he bucked into you and spilled his seed into your tight core. Your hips moved together as you rode through the aftershocks together.

Dean flopped down beside you as your breathing slowly returned to normal. “I guess I underestimated you,” you said as he pulled you into his chest.

“I told you I was good at more than just cards.”

#dean x reader #dean winchester smut #dean winchester #dean x you #spn smut #spn fanfic #dean winchester fic #plus size reader #idk what to tag

160 notes · View notes

eugenesmorphine · 4 years ago

Note

I really love how you write Ronald Speirs! Can I request something like the reader is one of Easy's medics and they're all protective over them but no one knows that the reader and Speirs are married so they're all trying to keep him away from them and something happens where Easy finds out about their marriage? Sorry if that doesn't make any sense and you don't have to write it if you don't want too :)

Secret Love /// Ronald Speirs Imagine

Taglist: @alienoresimagines @hellitwasyoufirstsergeant @punkgeekchic @valterras @floydtab @adamantiumdragonfly

Words: 3,337

Y/N hummed while carrying a crate within her arms. Lugging the crate alongside Perconte. Frank glanced down at the female’s arms and how the strained ever so slightly while she carried the crate. Looking back up at her helmet slipped down in front of her eyes. The big medic cross on the helmet showing even more. Perconte scoffed slightly as he looked at her and slipped her helmet back on top of the paratrooper’s head.

“You sure you don’t need help there Y/N? I can hold it if you would like, can’t have those medic hands of yours hurting,” he smiled warmly at her. Y/N just scoffed slightly and shook her head. Tightening her grip on the wooden crate. Sure it was heavy, but Y/N didn’t want nor needed any help. The guys just always wanted to help her. Like the “gentlemen” they are.

“I told you before, Frank. I don’t need any help. I’ve carried grown men they weigh more than the both of us,” she told him as she continued to walk. Her boots squishing in the mud just a bit. The pair walked past Captain Speirs, and Captain Winters. Y/N shot a small smile towards Speirs. Speirs just softened his eyes and turned his face away. Smiling slightly. While Frank just watched her in awe. Tugging the female along.

“Y/N, what the hell are you doing?! No one just smiles at Speirs unless they want a death wish!” he exclaimed. Y/N just shrugged and smiled to herself. Not too fazed by it, unlike Perconte was more than surprised. Everyone seemed to fear Speirs. A Captain that was full of anger. The horror stories men told about him. And a girl of her size- just smiling and making eye contact with him, and just not fazed whatsoever.

What the men didn’t know was both Y/N and Ronald Speirs were married. They had been together for more than a few years. But to avoid conflict of interest, they barely met up with each other and kept quiet about their relationship. The only people to know of their relationship were the officers. And they even kept their mouths shut.

The few times they would come see each other was late at night when there were no emergencies for either of them to take care of. It was odd that they ended up together. Two completely different people. Y/N was a medic who was known to have a gentle touched that healed many. A set of soft E/C eyes that were warm and welcome. Whilst Ronald Speirs was a man of not hatred, but seemed like it. A hard exterior with what seemed like an even harder interior. A man feared by almost every soldier and Kraut. But not even that kept Y/N away.

///

The two had met during Paratrooper training. Even though Y/N was a part of Easy Company, she was busy patching up one of his soldiers after a group training exercise. Nothing serious, but Speirs had to go and collect his soldier.

He had approached Y/N as she was bandaging up a private’s arm after he fell and cut it up pretty good. Mistaking Y/N for a nurse and questioning why she was on the post since medics were only allowed. Which Y/N turned and smiled up at him. And that is when a jolt of electricity shot through his body. She simply just responded with, “No, sir. I’m the third combat medic with Easy Company, sir. First woman in the airbourne to experience real combat.” She was all proud. And that is what intrigued Ronald all in the start of it all. A woman to make it this far and make her way to get to go on the front lines of combat during World War II was a huge deal.

From that day forward, the two began to bump into each other more and more. Almost like fate brought them together. Sooner or later, they just got together. They disclosed the information to Winters and the other officers, and decided just to keep it quiet with the other men so it wouldn’t seem like favoritism. But they loved each other more than ever, they just kept an eye out for each other on the field, they snuck kisses behind the large trucks when no one was around, it showed their own type of love during such a time in history.

///

Dropping the crate off into one of the larger trucks, she felt Liebgott come and help her push it in. Rolling her eyes she looked up at the lanky man with an annoyed look. “When will the two of you get it through your skulls that I don’t need you guys taking care of me? I can take care of myself!” she exclaimed. Taking a moment to stand on her toes to reach into a few crates to grab some supplies that she needed to refill. That was before they pushed her back slightly to dive their hands in there to hand her some gauze and wraps. Morphine and stitches. Y/N groaned and just stomped her foot. While the boys seemed to not care, just chuckling and helping her.

Ronald and Richard watched the group of three from afar. Ronald crossed his arms as he watched. Winters just chuckled and shook his head slightly. Turning towards his fellow officer. “Are you ever going to actually tell the men? It’s been what? Two… three years now? You guys are married. The men wouldn’t care, Speirs. Plus, they are trying to shelter her away from you,” he snickers. Only receiving a heavy and agitated sigh from the soldier besides him. Frankly, Ronald and Y/N had no particular reason to hide their relationship from the guys. They just kind of did. Never ones to disclose or talk about themselves all that much. They just naturally were private. Their relationship was more of a relationship in private. Work was work. War was war. And that is how they always enjoyed it the past three years.

“Man I don’t know, Dick. It just turns out that way, Y/N doesn’t seem to mind. It seems to keep rumors down, you know,” he said honestly. Captain Ronald Speirs was a difficult man to read. And even harder to understand. But oddly, Dick Winters understood. Another chuckle leaving the redhead’s lips as he shook his head slightly.

“Whatever you say, Speirs. Get your men ready. We are pushing through Foy,” he told him. Patting his shoulder softly and turning to walk. Nixon on his trail. Ronald stood alone as he turned and looked at his woman from afar. Maybe this game of hiding has gone on for too long. Of course Ronald wasn’t one for PDA. But he would enjoy even speaking to her. Maybe even sit in the same foxhole as her from time to time. Maybe it was time..

///

Y/N hid with her back pressed tightly against a building. She worked carefully to wrap a soldier's wounds. He was shot, nothing bad though. The bullet went straight through the lone Sergeant’s leg, missing any main arteries. Tying off some dressings she stood. Her head turned to the forest line. Seeing Ronald have a sharp eye on her as he watched. She shot him a soft smile and turned to run out through the mortar shells and bullets. It was scary. No doubt about it. But she was prepared for it. She couldn’t let fear rest within her and take over. Y/N had a job to do. And the fear of losing her lover or losing her life couldn’t be her top priority. But it still was.

Ronald watched as stress surged within his body and mind. The German military were circling in on his men. And Lieutenant Dyke was sitting there and doing nothing! He was livid. But when he saw his wife sitting out there, trying to keep her head low while she worked on a soldier that had his arm blown off from a mortar shell. And it was when the tip of Y/N’s helmet was hit with a bullet and it flew off her head. Landing in the snow somewhere about six feet away from her. But she kept working on the soldier. Not even blinking twice. Ronald’s teeth grinded down onto each other. His chest heaved as his eyes never left his woman. Gripping his weapon and his dirt coated nails dug into the wood of it. And once he heard those orders from Winters to take over, he definitely took over that position. Sprinting through Foy to link up with I company.

Y/N watched in shock and in horror as she watched her husband. It was brave, but also do idiotic. Standing up and looking at him as the Germans sat there in shock. “Ronald!” she screamed. Her eyes coated with shock and fear as the cold wind whipped the stray strands of hair in front of her face. Her shocked stance quickly ended as she felt a bullet whiz past her face. Slicing her cheek. Dropping to the ground behind the little cover. She poked her head out by the corner as she watched Ronald dive over the small wall. A small sigh of relief. Biting her bottom lip as she waited for a small moment to run to another wounded soldier. Grabbing onto the fabric of his trooper shirt and dragging the man to cover. Beginning to work on his injuries.

Peeking over the cover to do a quick scan for more wounded, she caught a glimpse of her Ronald climbing back over the wall. Her eyes widened as she stood up. Now the Krauts began to fire back. But they missed every shot. She watched as Ronakd took cover and began to fire at the Germans. She shook her head and laughed in shock. Focusing back on her task at hand, she would just yell at him later. Jogging her way to another wounded man. It was war after all. Sometimes you needed stupid decisions that would just quite work. And sacrifices did help. But Y/N never really did pray, but in her head she prayed. She prayed to her lord that she was thankful that Ronald hadn’t made the ultimate sacrifice that day to save them.

///

After I company linked up with Easy Company, taking over the German’s was a piece of cake. I mean after the attack of the sniper. But Y/N was busy helping the other medics with the wounded. Getting men up on Jeeps to be sent to the nearest hospital. And she helped pick up some of the dead to be identified and brought back to town to be sent home. Wiping the sweat off her head as she placed her hands on her hips. Taking some water from her canteen to clean off some of the blood that rested and dried on them. Wiping her wet hands off on her trousers as they began to get cold from the frigid air all around them. Her eyes darted to the side as she saw Ronald walking past her and towards the rest of the Easy Company boys. Placing her helmet onto her head as she turned and gritted her teeth. She was blinded by worry and fear after watching him run through Foy. It turned into anger. Y/N was a patient woman, don’t get me wrong. But when it came to her husband, it was an entire different situation. Especially when he did something as stupid as he did. And boy did Ronald already see it coming.

Y/N turned and began to march over to him. Clenching her firsts as she walked past the groups of men. Liebgott nudged Buck and pointed at the woman. The look of anger yet her eyes laced with worry got their attention. But seeing her march towards Spiers, that is what scared them the most. No one even dared to stare that man in the eyes of that man. Yet there she went, the look of fury within her. They watched for the show as they went to reach out to stop her, but they couldn’t think of which one they feared more. An angry female medic, or a murder crazed paratrooper officer. They just wanted to wait and see.

“Ronald Speirs!” she yelled. The officer turned around with questioning eyes. But they softened slightly as he saw her. But when he saw the anger on her features, he narrowed his eyes at her. Y/N took her helmet off her head and shoved it into his chest. “Are you an absolute idiot?!” Y/N yelled. Leaving the rest of the men within Easy to have their eyes bulge out of their heads. Ronald was just as shocked in all honesty. Not only was he not used to the other men talking to him like that. Coming from his wife, it was a shock. “You could’ve gotten yourself killed! And what would I do? I would be stuck in this war alone!” she yelled into his face. Pressing her pointer finger into his chest. Now the men were confused. What was she going on about?

“Come on, Y/N. I had to do it,” he tried to say to defend himself. His voice wasn’t as harsh as normal. He looked down at the woman and reached to place a fond hand on her shoulder.

“Don’t even try to touch me right now, Ronald! I’m so mad at you right now! You had me scared half to death on that field. I didn't even pray and I sat on the field while patching up a trooper, muttering prayers. What would I have done if you got shot? I would half to patch you up and do you understand how terrifying that is for me?! We are fucking married you asshole! And it seems like you don’t care sometimes! Even if it is a good hunk of cash, I don’t want that ten thousand dollars if you die!” she yelled. The men of Easy had their mouths hanging open as Ronald was finally left speechless for once in his military career. Staring down at her woman as her chest heaved up and down. But when she realized what she had actually said, the blush from the cold on her face changed to the blush of feeling embarrassed. She just spat out their secret. “I.. I’m sorry,” she said. But in a few moments, Ronald snagged her waist and yanked her forward. Planting his lips onto hers. Y/N raised her hands in shock as her eyes opened wide.

Ronald pulled away as he smiled softly at how shocked Y/N was. Liebgott and Toye looked at each other while Perconte and Luz sat there in shock. Small smiles coming to their faces as the company bursts out into cheer. Winters and Nixon standing in front of all of them chuckling.

The group approached Y/N as she kept her face to the side to hide the blush. “So when the hell were you going to tell us this? How long have you all been together? Married even!” Gaurnere said with a smile yet shocked looked in his eyes. Y/N held her left hand up to show the silver band on her ring finger. He didn’t show it, but Ronald had the same band on his right hand. He had stolen them when scuffling through some town. They fit perfectly onto their fingers and it was just them with each other.

“Three years. We started dating in the middle of Toccoa. Got married about a year ago,” she said softly. Dropping her hand to the side of her as she scratched the back of the neck with the other. A small, yet shy smile on her lips. “So I guess the cat is out of the bag,” she said softly, a chuckle following out soon after. Chewing on her bottom lip as Ronald draped an arm across her shoulders and stared down at all the boys.

“Yeah. That means if I see any of you soldiers flirting with my wife, I’ll have your heads. Now scram. You guys have jobs to do,” he told them. The men piped up with a “Yes, sir” then ran off. Laughing and joking in shock. Y/N smiled at Ronald and pulled away softly.

“As much as I would love and be your wife, we would have to wait till later on. I have duties along as you do too,” she said softly. Standing on the toes of her boots to press a soft kiss on his cheek with her chapped lips. Ronald smiled softly and nodded. Handing her helmet back to her. “I will see you later on, Captain,” she said with a soft smile. Turning around and walking off towards Roe. Placing her helmet back onto her head as she walked. Y/N always walked with pride. Her head held high. Even if she never noticed it, Ronald always noticed it. And it always made him fall even harder for her.

Nixon approached his fellow officer. Patting his shoulder softly. Captain Speirs turned around to look at the man. “So Mr.Speirs, it seems you are soft for your wife after all. I mean, letting her talk to you like that and all,” he teased. The officer just grunted and shoved his hand off of his shoulder. Furrowing his eyebrows as he could feel his blush crawl up onto his cheeks.

“Aw shut it, would you, Nixon? Why don’t you search for alcohol somewhere, you drunk,” he huffed. Only to have Nicon stifle a laugh in return. Nixon looked at Ronald’s back and turned. Going to walk towards their new main headquarters within the town of Foy.

“Whatever you say, Speirs,” he said walking into the distance. Waving him off as he walked. Ronald just grunted again and ignored the man. But his eyes went to look back at the female in the distance. She was already carrying crates between helping Paratroopers that came to her with problems. He smiled softly as he looked down at his ring. Then back up at his woman. She was having Roe place a bandage on the slice she had on her cheek. He didn’t feel jealous. He didn't feel anything negative. He found himself smiling at his wife. The woman he loved oh so dearly. He was never happier and he never regretted this decision. Not once, and he never will. And in that moment he promised himself. When this shithole of a war was over, he would give her the wedding she deserved for all her hard work. The biggest and best house man could create to keep her warm and safe. And all the kids she would ever want. He found his person. And Y/N was an angel walking on this Earth to him. Ronald would never let her go. He was going to keep her safe. She changed his way of thinking deep down. Ronald would worship the ground his little medic walked on. And it was only for her. No one else. No more, no less.

He was hers. And Y/N knew that. No doubt about it. Anyone who has seen her smile has known perfection. She instills grace in every common thing and divinity in every careless gesture. And Ronald knew he was graced to be the cause of that smile, that he would get to see her smile every day. It meant more to him than anything. He would live for her. He would die for her. He was in love with her. He breathed her essence. And that’s all he wanted for the rest of his life. And as did Y/N. They were made for each other. Their hearts beat the same. Their mind’s were opposite, but that’s what conjoined them.

Y/N and Ronald Speirs were the definition of soulmates. Their lives would be spent together. Never apart. They were the flames that kept each other going and moving. They would be together to the end. No doubt about it.

#band of brothers imagine #band of brothers memes #band of brothers headcanon #band of brothers meme #band of brothers #ronald speirs #ron speirs #ronald speirs imagine #hbo #hbo war #hbo mini series #hbo war imagines #HBO Series #hbo imagine

91 notes · View notes

kookie-doughs · 4 years ago

Text

Y/N L/N AND THE HALFBLOODS

Percy Jackson X Reader -Y/N L/N met Percy Jackson and everything was now ruined.

CHAPTER 4: THE DAY I LOST EVERYTHING

We have to loose them Loose who? He'll take them. Who? We can't save them now. But I want to save them. "Y/N! Focus on running!" My dad yelled who was right behind us. I stopped in the middle of my tracks everyone turned to me. D/N was barking loudly, as if telling me to move. Everyone was telling me to move "I will save you don't worry." I said looking at my parents. "What---" As on cue lightning struck them. They aren't gone They aren't gone We will save them someday We will save them Now run My heart felt empty. I knew I was supposed to be sad, but I wasn't. It was like someone was directing me what I should do. Finally getting in on the car they all looked at me worried D/N nuzzled to my lap, Percy and Grover looked at me emphatically. Mrs Jackson was driving but occasionally glancing at the mirror. We tore through the night along dark country roads. Wind slammed against the Camaro. Rain lashed the windshield. Every time there was a flash of lightning, I looked at Percy sitting next to me and I wondered why I chose to be with him and not feel the weight of loosing my parents. I pulled D/N closer and hugged him. I didn't know what to do. Percy then broke the silence, "So, you and my mom... know each other?" Graver's eyes flitted to the rear view mirror, though there were no cars behind us. "Not exactly," he said. "I mean, we've never met in person. But she knew I was watching you." "Watching me?" "Keeping tabs on you. Making sure you were okay. But I wasn't faking being your friend," he added hastily. "I am your friend." "Urn ... what are you, exactly?" "That doesn't matter right now." "It doesn't matter? From the waist down, my best friend is a donkey—" Grover let out a sharp, throaty "Blaa-ha-ha!" and cried, "Goat!" "What?" "I'm a goat from the waist down." "You just said it didn't matter." "Blaa-ha-ha! There are satyrs who would trample you under hoof for such an insult!" "Whoa. Wait. Satyrs. You mean like ... Mr. Brunner's myths?" "Were those old ladies at the fruit stand a myth, Percy? Was Mrs. Dodds a myth?" "So you admit there was a Mrs. Dodds!" "Of course." "Then why—" "The less you knew, the fewer monsters you'd attract," Grover said, like that should be perfectly obvious. "We put Mist over the humans' eyes. We hoped you'd think the Kindly One was a hallucination. But it was no good. You started to realize who you are. And not to mention there turns out to be two of you which is worse than what I thought!" "Who I—wait a minute, what do you mean?" The weird bellowing noise rose up again somewhere behind us, closer than before. Whatever was chasing us was still on our trail. "Percy," my mom said, "there's too much to explain and not enough time. We have to get you to safety. You and Y/N." "Safety from what? Who's after me?" "Oh, nobody much," Grover said, obviously still miffed about the donkey comment. "Just the Lord of the Dead and a few of his blood-thirstiest minions." "Grover!" "Sorry, Mrs. Jackson. Could you drive faster, please?" Don't worry. They won't hurt us. Have you thought of who you want to be your parent? We have plenty of options, I'd prefer if it was either Zeus or Hades but I wouldn't mind to be Ares's or Hephaestus's. I guess Athena isn't so bad as well. Who was your Father and mother's favorite? I want my mom and dad... to remain the same... Don't change them. As you wish. We have to leave soon. The moment you go get in the borders, we will loose connection. Who are we? I lied, we're not you. We're only messengers. We don't know when you'll contact yourself. But it's not anytime soon for sure. Only half of the prophecy has been fulfilled after all. But... you came and... told me to stay with Percy. Maybe you did try to make a connection. I only came to ask who you want parent to be. "Y/N!" "Huh?" "Do you know who your parent is? Do you know what's going on?" "What?" "You were talking about Greek gods..." Percy said. "I-I... was?" I asked looking at D/N as if he'd know the answer. "Where are we going?" Percy asked. "The summer camp I told you about." Percy mother's voice was tight. "The place your father wanted to send you." "The place you didn't want me to go." "Please, dear," his mother begged. "This is hard enough. Try to understand. You're in danger." "Because some old ladies cut yarn." "Those weren't old ladies," Grover said. "Those were the Fates. Do you know what it means—the fact they appeared in front of you? They only do that when you're about to ... when someone's about to die." "Whoa. You said 'you.'" "No I didn't. I said 'someone.'" "You meant 'you.' As in me." "I meant you, like 'someone.' Not you, you." "Boys!" Mrs Jackson said. She pulled the wheel hard to the right, and I got a glimpse of a figure she'd swerved to avoid—a dark fluttering shape now lost behind us in the storm. "What was that?" I asked. "We're almost there," Percy's mother said, ignoring my question. "Another mile. Please. Please. Please." I didn't know where there was, but I found myself anxious to arrive. I gripped Percy's hand as he leaned forward. Outside, nothing but rain and darkness—the kind of empty countryside you get way out on the tip of Long Island. There was a blinding flash, a jaw-rattling boom!, and our car exploded. I remember feeling weightless, like I was being crushed, fried, and hosed down all at the same time. I don't know how but I wasn't hurt... or didn't know until I saw D/N had grown... bigger. Big enough to hide someone. He had cushioned my fall. "I'm okay boy, thanks." He shrunk and barked. He had a confused look as well as I did. "Percy!" I heard someone shouted. "I'm okay..." I tried to check on Percy. "You sure?" "Yeah..." He replied. The car hadn't really exploded. We'd swerved into a ditch. Our driver's-side doors were wedged in the mud. The roof had cracked open like an eggshell and rain was pouring in. Lightning. That was the only explanation. We'd been blasted right off the road. Next to Percy in the backseat was a big motionless lump. "Grover!" He was slumped over, blood trickling from the side of his mouth. Percy shook his furry hip. Then he groaned "Food," and Percy sighed in relief. "Percy," his mother called, "we have to ..." Her voice faltered. I looked back. In a flash of lightning, through the mud-spattered rear windshield, I saw a figure lumbering toward us on the shoulder of the road. The sight of it made my skin crawl. It was a dark silhouette of a huge guy, like a football player. He seemed to be holding a blanket over his head. His top half was bulky and fuzzy. His upraised hands made it look like he had horns. I swallowed hard. "Who is—" "Percy, Y/N," his mother said, deadly serious. "Get out of the car." Mrs Jackson threw herself against the driver's-side door. It was jammed shut in the mud. I tried mine. Stuck too. I looked up desperately at the hole in the roof. It might've been an exit, but the edges were sizzling and smoking. D/N must've read the situation and jumped out through the roof. "D/N!" He started digging on the mud occasionally barking. "There! Climb out the passenger's side!" Percy's mother told us. "Y/.N, Percy—you two have to run. Do you see that big tree?" "What?" Another flash of lightning, and through the smoking hole in the roof I saw the tree she meant: a huge, White House Christmas tree-sized pine at the crest of the nearest hill. "That's the property line," Percy's mom said. "Get over that hill and you'll see a big farmhouse down in the valley. Run and don't look back. Yell for help. Don't stop until you reach the door." "Mom, you're coming too." Her face was pale, her eyes as sad as when she looked at the ocean. "No!" Percy shouted. "You are coming with me and Y/N. Help me carry Grover." "Food!" Grover moaned, a little louder. The man with the blanket on his head kept coming toward us, making his grunting, snorting noises. As he got closer, I realized he couldn't be holding a blanket over his head, because his hands—huge meaty hands—were swinging at his sides. There was no blanket. Meaning the bulky, fuzzy mass that was too big to be his head ... was his head. And the points that looked like horns ... "He doesn't want us," my mother told me. "He wants you. Besides, I can't cross the property line." "But..." "We don't have time, Percy. Go. Please." Percy helped me climbed across Grover and I pushed the door open into the rain. "We're all going together. Come on, Mrs Jackson." "I told you—" "Mom! We are not leaving you. Help me with Grover." He didn't wait for her answer. I scrambled outside, Percy was dragging Grover from the car. Together, with Mrs Jackson they draped Grover's arms over our shoulders and started stumbling uphill through wet waist-high grass. I followed carrying D/N in my arms. Glancing back, I got my first clear look at the monster. He was seven feet tall, easy, his arms and legs like something from the cover of Muscle Man magazine—bulging biceps and triceps and a bunch of other 'ceps, all stuffed like baseballs under vein-webbed skin. He wore no clothes except underwear—I mean, bright white Fruit of the Looms—which would've looked funny, except that the top half of his body was so scary. Coarse brown hair started at about his belly button and got thicker as it reached his shoulders. His neck was a mass of muscle and fur leading up to his enormous head, which had a snout as long as my arm, snotty nostrils with a gleaming brass ring, cruel black eyes, and horns—enormous black-and-white horns with points you just couldn't get from an electric sharpener. I recognized the monster, all right. He had been in one of the first stories my parents talked about. But he couldn't be real. I blinked the rain out of my eyes. "That's—" "Pasiphae's son," Percy's mother said. "I wish I'd known how badly they want to kill you." "But he's the Min—" "Don't say his name," she warned. "Names have power." The pine tree was still way too far—a hundred yards uphill at least. I glanced behind me again. The bull-man hunched over our car, looking in the windows—or not looking, exactly. More like snuffling, nuzzling. I wasn't sure why he bothered, since we were only about fifty feet away. "Food?" Grover moaned. "Shhh," Percy told him. "Mom, what's he doing? Doesn't he see us?" "His sight and hearing are terrible," she said. "He goes by smell. But he'll figure out where we are soon enough." As if on cue, the bull-man bellowed in rage. He picked up Gabe's Camaro by the torn roof, the chassis creaking and groaning. He raised the car over his head and threw it down the road. It slammed into the wet asphalt and skidded in a shower of sparks for about half a mile before coming to a stop. The gas tank exploded. "Percy, Y/N," his mom said. "When he sees us, he'll charge. Wait until the last second, then jump out of the way— directly sideways. He can't change directions very well once he's charging. Do you understand?" "How do you know all this?" "I've been worried about an attack for a long time. I should have expected this. I was selfish, keeping you near me. I'm not like (Father's Name) or (Mother's Name), I can't hide you for good." "Keeping me near you? Hide me? But—" Another bellow of rage, and the bull-man started tromping uphill. He'd smelled us. The pine tree was only a few more yards, but the hill was getting steeper and slicker. I could tell the Jackson's were having a hard time with Grover. The bull-man closed in. Another few seconds and he'd be on top of us. Mrs Jackson must've been exhausted, but she shouldered Grover. "Go, Percy! Y/N! Separate! Remember what I said." I didn't want to split up, but I had the feeling she was right—it was our only chance. I sprinted to the left, Percy went the other way, we turned, and saw the creature bearing down on Percy. His black eyes glowed with hate. He reeked like rotten meat. He lowered his head and charged, those razor-sharp horns aimed straight at his chest. The fear in my stomach made me want to bolt, and help Percy but I knew that wouldn't work. So I held my ground, and at the last moment, he jumped to the side. The bull-man stormed past like a freight train, then bellowed with frustration and turned, but not toward Percy this time, toward Mrs Jackson, who was setting Grover down in the grass. Thankfully its like they never saw me. We'd reached the crest of the hill. Down the other side I could see a valley, just as Percy's mother had said, and the lights of a farmhouse glowing yellow through the rain. But that was half a mile away. We'd never make it. The bull-man grunted, pawing the ground. He kept eyeing Mrs Jackson, who was now retreating slowly downhill, back toward the road, trying to lead the monster away from Grover. "Run, Percy! Y/N" she told me. "I can't go any farther. Run!" But Percy just stood there, frozen in fear, as the monster charged her. She tried to sidestep, as she'd told me to do, but the monster had learned his lesson. His hand shot out and grabbed her by the neck as she tried to get away. He lifted her as she struggled, kicking and pummeling the air. "Mom!" I ran towards Percy to try and hold him back. She caught my eyes, managed to choke out one last word: "Go!" Then, with an angry roar, the monster closed his fists around Mrs Jackson's neck, D/N ran to bite the Minotaur's arm but they both dissolved before our eyes, melting into light, a shimmering golden form, as if they were a holographic projection. A blinding flash, and they was simply ... gone. Both Mrs Jackson and D/N... "No!" The bull-man bore down on Grover, who lay helpless in the grass. The monster hunched over, snuffling him, as if he were about to lift Grover up and make him dissolve too. Percy stripped off his red rain jacket. "Hey!" I screamed, waving the jacket, running to one side of the monster. "Hey, stupid! Ground beef!" "Percy what are you doing?!" He shot a glance at me, "Trust me?" "Yes?" "Bad choice." "Raaaarrrrr!" The monster turned toward us, shaking his meaty fists. "I hagve an idea—a stupid idea, but better than no idea at all." He pushed my back to the big pine tree and waved his red jacket in front of the bull-man, "I'm thinking we jump out of the way at the last moment." But it didn't happen like that. The bull-man charged too fast, his arms out to grab me whichever way we tried to dodge. Time slowed down. My legs tensed. I couldn't jump sideways, only thought running in my mind was Percy's safety. Taking his hand which seemed to surprise him, I leaped straight up carrying his weight lighter than I had thought, kicking off from the creature's head, using it as a springboard, turning in midair, and landing on his neck with Percy in front of me. How did I do that? I didn't have time to figure it out. A millisecond later, the monster's head slammed into the tree and the impact nearly knocked my teeth out. The bull-man staggered around, trying to shake us. I locked my arms around Percy while he went for the horn, to keep us from being thrown. Thunder and lightning were still going strong. The rain was in my eyes. The smell of rotten meat burned my nostrils. The monster shook himself around and bucked like a rodeo bull. He should have just backed up into the tree and smashed me flat, but I was starting to realize that this thing had only one gear: forward. Meanwhile, Grover started groaning in the grass. I wanted to yell at him to shut up, but the way I was getting tossed around, if I opened my mouth I'd bite my own tongue off. "Food!" Grover moaned. The bull-man wheeled toward him, pawed the ground again, and got ready to charge. Percy had hit my shoulder with his head and pulled at the horn. Easing up to a more comfortable position to hold on, I got both hands around one horn and we pulled backward with all our might. The monster tensed, gave a surprised grunt, then—snap! The bull-man screamed and flung me through the air. I landed flat on my back in the grass. My head smacked against a rock. When I sat up, my vision was blurry. Percy was on the other side, with the horn in his hand. The monster charged. Percy rolled to one side and came up kneeling. As the monster barreled past, he drove the broken horn straight into his side, right up under his furry rib cage. The bull-man roared in agony. He flailed, clawing at his chest, then began to disintegrate—not like my mother, in a flash of golden light, but like crumbling sand, blown away in chunks by the wind, the same way Mrs. Dodds had burst apart. The monster was gone. The rain had stopped. The storm still rumbled, but only in the distance. I smelled like livestock and my knees were shaking. My head felt like it was splitting open. I was weak and scared and trembling with grief I'd just lost everyone. I wanted to lie down and cry, but there was Grover and Percy, needing my help. "Percy..." He looked at me weakly and took my hand. "Let's get out of here..." His voice was hoarse. This is where I say goodbye... Don't leave. I need you most now. I am always with you. And you have successfully brought yourself to another world. We will talk once you leave camp. I'm scared. You have Percy Jackson. Hold onto him. And you shall meet another hero. Save Percy. Save Luke. Save all of them. And you won't ever be scared again. Looking down at our linked hand I nodded. Stay with him. Save them all. You've hidden well, but its time for you to show who you are. I will declare who your parent is. I hope they claim us. Okay. We managed to haul him up and stagger down into the valley, toward the lights of the farmhouse. I was crying and so was Percy, calling for his mother, so I held on to him—I wasn't going to let him go. "I'll be here... I won't leave you..." Successfully reaching the top, I could see eyes on us. Percy had lost his consciousness. I was tasked to carry the weight of these two. Seeing two people approach us, I didn't have time to process who, I cried, "Help them. Please." Before collapsing on a wooden porch, looking up at a ceiling fan circling above me, moths flying around a yellow light, and the stern faces of a familiar-looking bearded man and a pretty girl, her blond hair curled like a princess's. They both looked down at me, and the girl said, "It's one of them. They must be." "Silence, Annabeth," the man said. "The girl's still conscious. Bring them inside." "Percy..."

Previous | Masterlist | Next

Taglist?

@gayer-than-the-gayest-gay @the-natureofme @booknerd-3000

#Percy Jackson #Percy Jackson X Reader #Percy Jackson X Y/N #luke castellan #Luke castellan x reader #Y/N L/N #Y/N L/N and the halfbloods #Book 1 #Chapter 4 #Lightning thief

73 notes · View notes

syilcawrites · 4 years ago

Note

Angry confessions,,,like accidental angry confessions,,,confessing angrily,,,

a/n: hello it’s been a while but I finished!! I kind of based it off of “are you in the clouds or the rocks right now” hope that’s okay huhu.

summary: Link.exe stops working because Zelda accidentally confesses to him in the midst of a heated conversation :~)

ao3

a carved heart on the back of your hand

Link hates the rain.

It wasn't supposed to rain today, but it did, and now everything is ruined.

Zelda wrestles her wrist from his grip once they stop at a nearby run-down house; his right hand is still trembling and it feels like his muscles and tendons have been ripped from his left arm. It's better than feeling nothing at least—he can still feel the fabric of his sleeve against his skin. Link rolls his shoulder slightly, wincing. It's not broken.

She sighs out with an irritable huff, and he hears the Hylian Shield he gave her earlier clatter between them.

"Why did you do that."

He shrugs as he stares at the broken stone wall in front of him. He can't stop shaking his leg. "We should wait," he says quietly.

"I'm ready. You even said I was ready!"

"Why do we have to rush this?" He braves a glance back at her, and it's just as bad as he thought—she's fuming—face red with her chin held high and her lips twisted into an angry frown. She wants to rush back into things—rush back into correcting Hyrule, to make up for all those lost years. He gets it. Of course he gets it; it's exactly how he felt when he first woke up. There was a sense of duty he knew he wanted to follow through with even though he lacked any of his memories.

"There's a centuries' worth of responsibilities I have to catch up on. And to survive in this Hyrule of today, I need to learn how to carry my own weight." Zelda looks away from him, her frown deepening as she crosses her arms. She squeezes her eyes shut for a brief moment before she glares up at him. "And you—" The anger returns to her face as she takes a step toward him. He flips around to face her completely, holding up his hands in slight defense. "Do not jump in front of me like that again. It was completely irresponsible of you to rip the shield from my arm."

It was dangerous, even he will admit that. He knows she's capable—her precision with parrying is nothing short of amazing—but Guardians who could still slither around were different from the ones who were immobile.

And when it crawled on top of an empty body of a decayed Guardian, it aimed down directly at her forehead. Which isn't anything new, no. It always aimed for the head. That's how it usually goes, and he knew that. He knows that. But what if the Guardian slipped because of the rain? And then just like that, it could've hit her in the chest, arm, leg—whatever. It could've hit her.

Last-minute parrying is probably one of his least favorite things to do, but his legs were already moving through the sluggish mud and his mind was trailing too slow behind his feet.

Guardian, rain, Zelda.

Those were the only three words chasing each other in his mind at that moment. And the next thing he knew, he had the shield in his arm, the Guardian had toppled over, and Zelda was yelling at him.

He doesn't regret doing what he did.

"It was the rain's fault," he says. The rain got into his eyes, his ears, his nose.

"What rain?" she asks, furrowing her eyebrows in confusion. "It wasn't raining."

"It was raining," he trails off, unsure now.

Was it raining?

"Link, you know that I love you, but for Hylia's sake!" Zelda exclaims, narrowing her eyes as sharp as knives. "What you did was extremely, unfathomably—and might I add ridiculously—reckless and dangerous."

Love. Not loved, but love, as in a I love you right now kind of love.

"Wait, really?"

"Yes really!' she exasperates, groaning as she rubs her temples. "Sure, Calamity Ganon is gone and the Guardians are a bit weaker now, but that doesn't erase the high threat that they still pose."

"No that's not—" Link quickly averts his gaze to her feet. Wait—he's supposed to be the triforce of courage. He shifts his gaze back up at her, and it takes every inch of his strength to maintain eye contact. He's been through death—he almost lost his head to a laser beam about five minutes ago—so this isn't… it shouldn't feel worse, but it does.

He gulps.

"You love me?" His stomach flips. He wants to drag the words that he has haphazardly thrown out into the wild back into the deepest parts of his mind, because now she's looking at him with a very, very weird expression: mouth twisted, eyebrows strained, nose scrunched.

And his voice sounded scratchy, so scratchy when he said that. He needs water, but there's no water near them because they drank the last of it early afternoon before they made their way to Hyrule Field. Outskirts Stable should have some… or maybe—what was closer? Riverside? But Akkala has the best water, so maybe he should go there instead. She did say how it tasted cleaner than other areas. It would be quick, in and out within two seconds tops if he used the Sheikah Slate. It's Autumn and the days are shorter and—

Link pats his hips frantically.

The Sheikah Slate is attached to Zelda's hips. They've been switching off, and of course, of course she has it today.

Link exhales. This is a-okay, shrug it off. It's not like she'll bite his fingers off if he asks for it—the both of them are probably really parched right now anyway since they just ran for who knows how long. And he knows Zelda, she'll definitely realize how perceptive and practical he's being with his proposition, and let him go swiftly without much argument.

"Are you thirsty?" he asks confidently, breaking the suffocating silence between them.

"Excuse me?"

"I can get us some water in East Akkala Stable, if you give me the Sheikah Slate."

"Well, I suppose so…" She unhooks it from her hip slowly, fumbling with it a little when it catches onto the metal of her belt. "Oh—!"

Link quickly reaches out for it before it can hit the ground—but Zelda does too, and then their hands touch. Link draws back immediately, and the Sheikah Slate smacks against the face of the Hylian Shield before bouncing off onto the broken pavement they're standing on. Link almost slaps his cheeks—their hands always brush against one another. Why'd he react like he got shocked by an Electric Wizzrobe?

"I'll be right back," he says quickly, swiping the Sheikah Slate up. His fingers hover over the screen as he licks his lips—how does he turn on the screen again? Tap it once? Twice? Five times? If Hylia is out there can she help him remember, please?

"Three times."

"Huh?" Link snaps his head up.

"Tap the screen three times to open it up," she mutters as she picks up the Hylian Shield from the ground, her eyes still on him.

"Thanks," he says, staring back down at the blue-lit screen. Akkala, upper right. Click the glowing icon and press yes. He looks back up at her, and she's situated herself under a part of the broken house, with the shield resting against her legs and a hand placed against the sheathed dagger attached to her hip. "I'll be quick," he promises, as the blue light begins to eat away his vision of her.

Zelda's face scrunches up like she's about to burst into tears.

He blinks, and instead of seeing her torn face, East Akkala Stable sits in front of him. And now he's definitely sure it's raining because this time he can feel a light, cold drizzle pelt against his skin. "Idiot," Link whispers as he tussles his bangs with frustration.

He just needs to be away for a second—it's hard thinking clearly when he's with her for some reason, and it's even harder trying to mask his emotions around her. In all of those memories, he was as stiff as a plank of wood. Even he couldn't read his own expressions when he remembered them. And sometimes he can manifest that part of him back, but with Zelda…

If he lingers too long in that feeling of emptiness, he knows he might stay like that forever. Most of those memories were filled with quiet conversations and sad smiles—he doesn't want to create more between them.

Link pulls out both of their water pouches as he nears the nearby spring reservoir, opting to avoid the stable altogether—he sighs again as he crouches down, sticking them into the water. The bubbles rise and burst with that awful glugging sound. He pointed out how weird it sounded to Zelda one time, and they both watched the pockets of air float and pop to the surface of the water as if it was the greatest thing in the entire world. He figured that the simplicity of it mesmerized the both of them. It seemed like she appreciated it when he pointed out random stuff to her—it's what initially drew her out of her half-dazed stupor for weeks after they defeated Calamity Ganon.

He sits by the water for an extra twenty minutes after he finishes filling up the water pouches, just soaking in the light drizzle dripping down his hair; leaking into the seams of his clothes, until he can feel it soaking into his skin. The rain washes away his thoughts.

He really hates the rain.

When Link returns, he finds her stabbing into the edge of some random piece of log with her dagger, a little ways away from the worn-down house. He can't tell if she's stabbing it out of anger or out of pure concentration. He raises an eyebrow as he comes closer, noticing that she's not actually stabbing it, but carving something.

"Zelda?" he calls out. She jumps at the sound of his voice but doesn't turn around.

"You're back already?" she asks, briefly glancing over her shoulder at him after a heartbeat. If she thought he was quick with his water trip, then she really was in the zone. "Wait—don't come closer."

He pauses about ten lizalfos' away from her, holding both of the water pouches in his hands. He watches with growing curiosity as she continues to stab and jab at the piece of wood a couple more times before she sheaths her dagger back. She rips something out of the log—hard enough for her to fall down onto her bottom, and Link instinctively takes a step forward with an arm slightly outstretched to her.

"Hm." She stands up as she looks back at him again, her expression troubled. "Why are you drenched from head to toe?"

"It was raining," he says, pressing his arm back to his side, "actually raining this time." He jogs over to her to close the distance between them. A humorless smile quirks upon her lips as she turns around with her arms behind her back.

They stand there awkwardly for a few moments.

"Well?" Zelda eyes his hands.

"Oh—" Link almost hits her arm as he quickly extends his hand out to her.

"Thank you," she says, grabbing it. She stares at the lip of it before holding out her other hand to him. "You said you lost that rock during the fight with Calamity Ganon?"

Link furrows his eyebrows together.

"The… that one rock you found on Death Mountain. The heart-shaped one. You called it your good luck charm?"

Oh, right. Somewhere in the midst of flying up in the air and running everywhere like a madman around Calamity Ganon, his heart-shaped pebble had fallen out from inside of his Champion's Tunic.

"Well," she says, tightening her fist, "I'm sure this is certainly not the exact way it looked. A craft such as wood carving takes years and years of practice, so this is the best I can manage." She still hasn't opened her fist—in fact, her knuckles have gone white. "You know that I always put my best efforts into whatever I am doing."

Link nods, waiting for her to drop the object into his palm. "Everyone knows you put your all into everything you do."

With a sigh, she opens her hand, and the small object falls into his palm with a light thud. It's a crudely carved heart-shaped piece of wood. It looks more like a weird hexagon, but at a certain angle he can see the heart in it. It looks nothing like the heart-shaped pebble, and that's exactly why he loves—

A short laugh escapes his lips before he realizes it.

"I'll make a better one once I get more practice!" she insists as she puffs out her cheeks. "I don't want your luck to run out, so just keep it for now."

"No," he says, running a thumb against the unevenly rough surface of it, "this one's perfect."

"Perfect? You insult me Link," she scoffs. Wisps of hair escape from her carefully pulled back braid, framing around her cheeks. Absentmindedly, she brushes it away from her skin, but it keeps falling back into the same position.

He wants to cup her cheeks, but both of his hands are occupied.

"I—" They both begin, pausing. Zelda purses her lips, but she keeps her gaze level with his eyes.

"I love you too," he blurts out before she can say anything, and presses the wooden heart against his fluttering chest. Red blooms onto her cheeks immediately—it's faint, but there. Maybe it's from the cold, since the wind picked up two minutes ago.

Her surprised expression melts into a soft smile—a smile with her lips slightly parted, carrying a sort of gentleness that is usually masked by the weariness of the world.

It's one of his favorite smiles.

#zelink #botw #breath of the wild #my fanfics #hope you enjoy it!!!#ty for sending a prompt to lil ol me hoho #i hope i didn't miss anything... i have a feeling i have LOL #enduracarrotchips

66 notes · View notes

sennextheassasinkingoflight · 4 years ago

Text

To My Grave

Geraskier Rated T to be safe. Cross posted to Ao3

Prompt: I told you I love you, I thought I was dying, but I lived and now I have to deal.

Summer was of course Jaskiers favorite time of year. Not to say that he did not miss the opulence of the city, or the balls, or even the conversation and study of the arts while he was away. To say he did not miss the shade of the trees in the courtyards of Oxenfurt, or the breeze that often blew off the river would be a lie. And yet, summer brought with its adventure, travel, inspiration, and of course, his friend Geralt of Rivia.

Despite the excitement that summer brings him, today Jaskier is quite miserable as dust rises into the air with every hoof fall of Roach and Pegasus against the dried, cracked soil of the road. The sun hanging high in the sky drowns them in wave after wave of stifling heat as he follows behind the Witcher heading towards Vizima. They’ve easily another day beyond tonight before they reach their destination, but word of a winged beast has reached Geralt and he is insistent on finding out what it is. Jaskier for his part can’t bring himself to mind. There are plenty of winged beasts that wreak havoc, and he can’t wait to find out what it is. He’s certain it will make for another great tale. Beyond that, there is rumored to be a bardic competition beginning in the next few days, and Jaskier desperately wants to compete.

“Geralt?”

The barest shift in his friend’s demeanor encourages him to continue. Where it was once hard to read the Witcher it is now a language in which he is more fluent than he believed he would be. Shifting in the saddle to ease the discomfort in his lower back, a side effect of aging, he continues his speech.

“How long do you think we may be in Vizima? You see there’s this competition and I was hoping to, well, compete while we’re in town. I know, of course, that it will depend on what kind of “winged beast” it is that we find upon our arrival, but have you perchance any ideas on our time frame?”

“I could leave you there.”

“Come now Witcher, I’m being serious.” He laughs out. Geralt hasn’t threatened to leave him behind, seriously, in almost a decade.

“So was I, bard.” Geralt tells him with a slump in his shoulders that indicates he isn’t serious at all.

“Hmm, I don’t think I believe you.” Snarks Jaskier like it’s the easiest thing in the world to do. And for him, it might as well be. Perhaps he is too comfortable with his companion. Still, he wouldn’t change this for the world.

“I won’t stop you from competing with Jaskier. In fact, maybe you’ll be too busy to get in my way.” Geralt grins over his shoulder and any retort Jaskier had dies in his throat. He rarely sees those smiles, so he focuses, captures the moment to memory and smiles in return. The lapse in conversation is hardly a new commonality for them. Instead of being uncomfortable it has become a token of their friendship, and Jaskier has learned how to put the silence to use for him at some point in the last fifteen years.

As the sun continues to glare down at them, Jaskier drinks water skin and then pulls out one of his many notebooks and a broken piece of charcoal. He has yet to master playing the lute and riding a horse at the same time, but he can take down notes, even if they are a bit of a mess. Messy notes are much better than no notes at all. Absently he wipes sweat from his brow, unintentionally leaving a streak of charcoal dust across his forehead. With the same movement, he unbuttons the top of his doublet. It is unusually hot for this early in the summer he thinks as charcoal meets parchment again.

The rhythmic clip clop of the horse’s hooves is melodic in his ears as he continues brainstorming. Certainly, he could start another conversation with Geralt, but sometimes it was best to save that for around the campfire. Instead, he watches Geralts back, jots down some ideas and notes, and then watches his surroundings. A slight rustling in the bushes to the left catches his attention. Geralt is saying something but he can’t make out what it is over the cacophony of shouting surrounding him, or the burning in his stomach.

Gasping he falls from Pegasus. The trees look lovely from the side, canopying the road like they may actually cast it in shadow from time to time. With a thud his shoulder comes into contact with solid earth and he groans. Unconsciously he curls into the fetal position on his uninjured side and grits his teeth against the sharp pain below his ribs. Squeezing his eye shut against the ringing of steel in the air and the sun above him he tenderly seeks out the wound with tips of his right-hand fingers. There is an arrow lodged below his ribcage, just below his left lung. Well, that’s lucky isn’t it. He thinks to himself as he assesses the damage as much as possible without the use of his eyes. Slowly he forces them open, blinks against the white in his vision and tries to observe his surroundings.

He watches despondently as Geralt disappears into the woods chasing something, bandits, his brain supplies as he forces himself to roll onto his back and breath as deep as he can. It hurts. It hurts worse than anything he has felt before. Whimpering he considers what he needs to do and blinks back tears trying to keep them from sliding through the dust on his face and turning to mud. Shaking he manages to get to a sitting position, his head spins wildly and he presses his eyes closed so hard he can hear the fluttering of his eyelids. It doesn’t take long for nausea to set in and he vomits to the side.

When he has caught his breath, he looks down and tries to ascertain the extent of the injury. Due to its location he can’t tell exactly how bad it is, between his doublet getting in the way and the poor angle. Exhaling a long, low whistle of air he looks around and notes Pegasus nearby and Roach grazing peacefully to the side, waiting for Geralts inevitable return. Which, Jaskier admits to himself, could be a while if he’s found reason to kill them all. Unlikely, but a good beating, certainly. Hesitantly he tries to stand and fails. Pain like fire rips through his side and the wound begins to bleed worse. Instead he uncrosses his legs and scoots, and starts and stops to the side of the road.

When he finally makes it to the grass he moans. He aches all over and he is shivering cold, despite the heat of the sun against his skin. Sweat beads across his brow, down the nape of his neck and across his back. The station of the sun tells him some time has passed and the only feasible explanation is that he passed out. It doesn’t surprise him. He can’t remember much beyond falling to the ground and Geralt giving chase. Trying to relax his body he lays back feels at the wound, the arrow has been jostled in his movement and it comes loose without much prodding. He inhales too sharply and grimaces, clenching his teeth as air tickles his insides. With a groan he rolls onto his good side and curls up. There is little he can do on his own. He knows he should try and stop the bleeding but he can’t as black shapes swirl in his vision.

+++++

When he comes to the throbbing in his head and side are enough to make him grunt in pain. He can’t seem to formulate words, and despite the darkness that surrounds him when he tries to open his eyes, he is burning up. He lets his weight shift to the right and feel his forehead come into contact with something hard and cool. He moans, pleased and leans further into the item. Leather? His tired mind supplies and he sighs.

“Hold on Jaskier. Just, hold on.” Geralt says nearby, voice rough like gravel, and all he can do is form a strangled sound in response.

++++++

When he wakes a second time, there are two voices whispering urgently somewhere nearby. The first is melodic, clipped and paced. Designed to be listened to, informative. He wonders if the face that belongs to it is soft? If the lips that form words are plump? Are her eyes gentle? The second voice is familiar, like gravel beneath boots. It puts him at ease. He’s to tired to try and open his eyes, though he wants to. Everything burns and aches. Fire courses through his veins, and his side is the source of its fuel.

He tries to speak, but his tongue is heavy in the pit of his mouth. It feels as though someone has poured sand into it while he has slept. His lungs, too, feel as though they are dry as the deserts to the east. He tries to move, to make any sign of life and it is impossible given how barren every part of himself is. If the fire continues to rage, he knows he will not wake up. The thought terrifies him, puts him on edge. Something is placed on his forehead and it feels like boiling water, the cloth like horsehair against his skin. It makes him want to squirm, to lift his hand and throw the blasted item off.

“Jaskier, rest.” The voice like gravel says and so he tries. No. You cannot rest now, Julian. There is something you must tell him before you go. A voice inside his head tells him, and he’s tired enough to listen to it. Aching to fall into oblivion and never return. He is in agony.

“Ge- Grlt.” He manages through parched lips. He tastes blood on his tongue, and in some sick way it is soothing, his mouth finally feels wet, like it should.

“Jask. Sleep.” Geralt says, and he can’t. How could he possibly sleep when he has something this important to say? He tries to swallow, fails, coughs weakly and chokes.

“I.” He wheezes. These words are mummified deep within the caverns of his body. They are dust in his lungs; never meant to be pushed up the dried canal of his throat, never meant to pass through the forbidden gate of his vocal cords, over the desert plateau of his tongue, and carried by hot air through the cracked dunes of his lips.

“Love you.” He finishes voice rough as a sandstorm, before the call of darkness’ cool embrace drags him into the depths of her inky waters.

+++++

He wakes to cool air against his skin, darkness surrounding him when he manages to pry his dried eyes open, and the smell of rosewater and ivy encompassing him. Altogether it is a pleasant change from the last two times he woke up. Of this he is certain. There is very little pain in his movements as he pushes himself into a sitting position.

The bed beneath him is soft, comfortable, expensive. The pillow he shifts behind him is down, and he almost grins, then remembers he has no idea where he is, and in the darkness, he cannot see anything. There are no candles, or fires in the room, and the faint starlight shimmering at the edges of what appear to be heavy curtains does nothing to illuminate the shadows dancing around him. He opens his mouth to call out and whimpers when his lips crack. Tentatively he licks them and finds them bloodied. After a moment he swallows and tries again.

“Hello.” It’s hoarse, and coarse, and too quiet to have been heard, and yet the air to the left of the bed stirs. He shifts to listen more attentively and is surprised when he receives an answer.

“You’re awake!” Its melodic voice and he can’t help but smile at the joy he hears in it.

“I. Yes.” He manages.

“You must be thirsty, let me get you something.” The disembodied voice says and he smiles.

“Thank you.” He blinks away the tears that form when there is a sudden burst of light in the room. Several candles lit themselves across the expanse of the chamber. He watches as the woman moves to the table and pours water from a pitcher, likely there for that very reason. She is lovely, brown hair in ringlets and dark skin shining in the flickering light. When she brings him the water he accepts it gratefully and sips at it.

“Geralt?” He asks after the silence has stretched too long.

“He went out after your reveal. He hasn’t been back yet, but he left Roach so I’m sure he will be back at some point.” She grins, eyes revealing nothing but amusement and understanding.

“I’m sorry, but my wh— oh.” The word comes out of him like he’s been punched in the gut by a witcher. “Please, tell me, it was more than three words?” He begs, voice very quiet, eyes turned towards the cup in his hand as he tries not to spill it. He focuses on keeping his hand from shaking as the woman giggles and then speaks.

“Well, four if you count his name.”

“Lovely. I’m sorry, I don’t know your name.” He mumbles and then smiles up at her.

“Triss, Triss Marigold.” She says with a smile and refills his water.

“Thank you for staying with me while I recovered. And for the water, I feel as though I could drink a lake dry.”

‘After the fever you had, I’m certain it feels that way. Are you feeling hungry at all?”

It takes him a moment to process the question, and when he does he simply shakes his head no. He doesn’t have much in the way of an appetite, but he is exhausted. Tentatively he brings the glass cup to his lips and drinks the rest of the water. Triss smiles encouragingly at him and he can’t help but return it.

“Miss Marigold, perhaps this is tactless of me, but did you use magic on me? I seem to notice a lack of hole in my gut.

She laughs and her eyes crinkle with glee, “Yes, some. Though I specialize in plants, which is what cured your fever. My magic and Geralts potions did the rest.”

“Witcher potions. He used, a potion on me?”

“Before you got here. He was… concerned you would not make it. You’ve been out for a while, but you haven’t been resting. Try to go back to sleep and we can speak more in the morning.” Triss stands, takes the cup from him and returns it to the table. When she reaches the door she turns to look at him one final time.

“If you need anything, I’m down the hall on the right. Good night Jaskier.” With a wave of her hand she plunges the room back into darkness and the door closes behind her with a soft clunk.

Sighing to himself, Jaskier snuggles down into the thick duvet and curls onto his side. He’s alone with his thoughts and the knowledge that his best kept secret is in the air. He would scream if it didn’t feel like it would drain him of every drop of energy he has. Instead he growls into the pillow with frustration and lets out a long winded sigh. Well Julian, He thinks, this is great. Look what you’ve gone and done now. Ha! You weren’t even awake to see his face. Cowardly now aren’t we. Of course, when haven’t we been? Then again, this wasn’t something we counted on right? No. No it wasn’t. This is fine. This is completely fine. I was dying, right? Yes. I was dying, and feverish. Geralt can’t blame me. We’ll…. We’ll just pretend it was never said and that will be that. Yes, that’s all there is to it. I’ll just pretend not to remember. Geralt probably won’t bring it up and that will be the end of it. Or so he tells himself as he drifts off to sleep in an oversized, overstuffed bed.

Bright light filters through his eyelids and wakes him the following morning. With an unamused groan he rolls over in bed and pulls the duvet over his head. Whose idea was it to open the blinds without warning him. Did they want him to go blind? The smell of food draws him from the cave of warmth he’s created. Sitting up he looks towards the table where Triss is sitting amusedly waiting for him.

“You’re in good spirits this morning.” He grumbles, the effect somewhat ruined by a yawn.

“Of course, I am. You're alive. Geralt is back. The king listened to me for once. It doesn’t get much better than that around here. Now, eat your bread and broth. Nothing heavier for a few days. You’re still recovering.”

Languidly he stretches before slipping from the bed and joining her at the table. In the light of day he can see that the room is smaller than it appeared in the dark. The table is situated a short distance from the hearth, there is a finely woven rug between the table and the bed, a chest and wardrobe against the far wall, and an end table beside the bed and the chair which yet remains beside it.

“Well then, it seems as though everything is going to plan for you today.” He smiles and sips at the steaming beverage in front of him. It soothes his throat on the way down and tastes sweet.

“For now.” She agrees. They eat in companionable silence until heavy footfalls pull them both from their thoughts. He doesn’t have to look up to know that Geralt has entered the room. He can feel eyes on the back of his neck. Triss smiles at him, then looks passed him.

“Well I have some tasks to attend to. I’ll check in on you later, Jaskier.” She says politely and makes her way out of the room.

Jaskier chews his bread slowly, waiting. He will let Geralt speak first, let him decide where this conversation is going to go. Straightening his back, he takes another gulp of his drink and finally Geralt comes into his line of sight. With obvious discomfort the witcher sits across from him.

“You’re awake then.”

“Obviously, Geralt. I am sitting up and eating, or is this a dream?” His lips pull up in a half-hearted smile. He’s too tired to pretend but he will do what he needs to to put Geralt at ease.

“Right. Yes.” Geralt coughs and oh gods, he can’t do this.

“You seem…. Unnerved, my friend.” He winces internally as Geralt makes eye contact with him and just as fast breaks it. Well Jaskier, way to act normal. He closes his eyes and scrubs at his face.

“You almost died.”

“I remember and its far from the first time.” Geralt stares at him and the words catch up with him. He comprehends them and wants to go hide in the folds of the blankets. The silence stretches long and tense between them. It’s uncomfortable in a way it hasn’t been in a long time. Jaskier catches a glimpse of himself in a mirror and notes the slight wrinkles around his eyes, the way his hair is gathering grey at the temples. He shifts, winces at the slight pain, and thinks, better to have said something now than live to regret it, I suppose. He watches Geralt watch him from time to time, face impassive and unreadable, and finally he drops his gaze from golden irises. Geralt will speak when he is ready, and in this Jaskier will not push him for an answer, only… he can’t quite keep his mouth shut.

“Like you said, I was dying, and I know I was feverish. We can pretend nothing was said if you like. We're good at that. At pretending. So why don’t we just move on? It’s not like we haven’t pretended in the past.” He manages, and his voice sounds weak, disappointed, even to him.

“It did happen.”

“Yes, but I’m saying if you want to pretend it didn’t then say so. Look, I was dying, I didn’t really think I’d be alive to deal with the repercussions of my words.” He flicks his eyes up to Geralts and freezes. Geralt looks vulnerable, like he’s battling something inside himself and he thinks he should look away but he can’t make his eyes obey.

“Did you mean it?” Jaskier almost misses the question, caught completely off guard by the earnestness in Geralts tone.

It takes him a long time to answer. Not because he doesn’t know the answer, but because he is trying to choose his words wisely. He opens his mouth and closes it more times than he likes to admit and holds up his hand to stop Geralt interrupting him when the witcher tries to speak. Finally he does speak, slowly, as though he doesn’t really know the words he wants to say and hopes that they will instead flow from his mouth.

“I did. I do.” He takes a breath and perseveres, “But I think, what you mean is: How do I love you? What makes you different from any of my dalliances?” Geralt simply nods noncommittally.

“You are who I think of when I think of home. If you ask me where I want to be at any given time, the answer is always; with you. When we began traveling together, I counted the days to when I would go back to Oxenfurt for the winter to work on finishing the manuscripts I start in the summer. Now, at some point along the way, that shifted. It came full circle and all I can think about when I’m supposed to be teaching is where we’ll be going next. It’s consuming, and it’s not fair. It’s an ache and a longing, and a hope. I don’t know how to best answer you, for that much I am sorry.”

Geralt nods slowly at him, hums in understanding and they lapse back into quiet. It’s not as tense or uncomfortable as before, but it stretches nearly as long.

“And if that feeling were returned?” Geralt asks, looking right past him.

“I would have died happy.” It’s the best he can offer. To say more risks never traveling with the Witcher again. As it is, it wouldn’t completely surprise him if Geralt packed up Roach and took off. Told him to go back to Oxenfurt and never come back. He hopes that won’t be the case, that at worst Geralt goes along with pretending. At best, he hopes that the feeling is returned, that the question isn’t just cryptic, and curiosity fueled. Geralt sits straighter and rolls his shoulders.

“Triss says you need a few more days to recover and I still need to deal with the gryphon. You missed your competition.” Geralt says briskly as he stands.

“I imagined as much.” He responds dutifully, tries to keep the bitterness from his voice as Geralt leaves the room. He lets his head fall back and stares at the ceiling. It could have been worse, he tells himself, he could have sent you back to the university. For now we pretend, and that has to be enough. With a mournful sigh he gets to his feet and makes his way to the window, his food forgotten. Leaning against the wall he watches as Geralt prepares to go on his hunt. Idly, he wonders how long it will be until this all crumbles around him, tries to console himself to contentment as he soaks in the morning light. Summer is his favorite, but he worries this will be the last one that fits into the category as he watches Geralt ride out.

Happy (ISH) Epilogue:

The summer had continued in a kind of stale peace. They’re actions, hesitant and second guessed at every turn. Neither comfortable around the other. Awkward in each other's presence in a way they hadn’t been in years. Every dance and rhythm they had gone, replaced with missteps and uncertainty. More than once, Jaskier wonders if he should return to Oxenfurt, but he is greedy and if Geralt isn’t actively asking him to leave then he will stay. June fades into July, and July bleeds into August before they know it, and still they’ve only just begun to return to the familiarity of longstanding friendship.

The sun is setting, and the smell of their supper has settled heavy over their campsite when Geralt speaks softly across the fire. The Witchers voice is soft enough that Jaskier doesn’t realize he’s being spoken to right away, over the sound of his lute. He fumbles the strings at the oddity of it and blinks rapidly at Geralt. It was unusual for him to start the conversations, they had reverted back to Jaskier being the chattery one and Geralt being the monosyllabic one since their conversation.

“I’m sorry, what?” Geralt stares at him and shakes his head in what appears to be amusement. Jaskiers heart somersaults in his chest and he can’t help but be happy about it. Maybe normalcy is returning to their relationship.

“I said, there is a competition in Redania. Do you want to go?”

“Yes. Yes! Of course I want to go, Geralt!” He grins and strums a bold chord. Geralt shakes his head and rolls his eyes at the boisterousness of it all.

“Good. I thought… it would be nice. Since you missed the last big event.” Geralt mutters to him, as he stokes up the fire, carefully avoiding Jaskiers eyes.

“Wait,” He begins slowly, uncertainly, “You don’t have a contract that’s taking us to Redania? You’re offering to go simply for the competition? You’re not a doppler are you?” a laugh bubbles out of him by the end. Geralt glares, unfortunately, Jaskier grew an immunity to them almost immediately.

“I am not a doppler. Not that you would know one if it bit you on the ass, Bard. I’m certain I’ll find contracts as we travel.” The Witcher sighs and lies back on his bed roll.

“Why?” Jaskier asks, voice quiet. He knows Geralt has heard him, but he also knows maybe it’s pushing the boundaries a little. When no immediate answer comes, Jaskier lies down for the night too, watches as the stars come out and light the night sky. His eyes have grown heavy and he lets out a small yawn. When he’s settled and nearly asleep, Geralt finally answers, voice steady in the dark of night.

“So, you can die happy.”

He grins into his bag, Geralt was never one for words, but Jaskier has always been good at understanding what he means. It’s no secret to either of them, that Jaskiers days will end before Geralts unless some freak accident happens. And maybe, mentioning death isn’t the best way to say “I love you”, but nothing about them has ever made sense to anyone else.

#The Witcher #Geraskier #Prompt fill #Writing'#Fanfiction #Jaskier #Geralt #Triss'#I confessed my love for you because I thought I was dying but then I lived and now I need to deal.

35 notes · View notes

roman-writing · 4 years ago

Text

bring home a haunting (4/12)

Fandom: The Haunting of Bly Manor

Pairing: Dani Clayton/Jamie Taylor

Rating: M

Wordcount: 20,133

Summary: Dani almost has her life together, when a familiar face arrives back in town after ten years. A childhood friends AU written with @youngbloodbuzz

read it below or read it on AO3 here

It was well and truly autumn. The air had a bite to it and the ground crinkled with every footstep. Everything had lost its vibrant edge and had become brown and wet and stagnant. Nothing but mud and rain and fresh crops on the produce shelves in the grocery store. The nights grew longer and the days shorter, and winter would be fast upon them.

In other words, Dani's least favorite time of year. She had long come to the conclusion that she was not built for the cold. Even now, sky overcast and gloomy, struck through with bared tree branches like black lightning, she wore a thick coat, scarf, and hat. Her boots were splattered with mud from the walk, and she would occasionally admire the way her breath steamed in the air like a cloud with every exhalation. Meanwhile, Jamie wore nothing more than a woollen jumper over her usual t-shirt and jean ensemble. Her scuffed and battered shoes looked even more worse for wear with a layer of caked dirt all up the soles.

They were digging through the illegal dump found midway down the abandoned rail line, affectionately called 'Mount Tire' by the locals. Dani had heard her mother complain about it along with other townsfolk at the annual general meeting of the Council, as though it were a dark mark on the face of the town rather than a treasure trove of objects that otherwise might have gone without a home.

From further along, Jamie made a triumphant noise, and Dani lifted her head.

"Did you find something?" Dani asked.

Jamie's reply was a series of grunts and the sound of something clattering. Dani wandered over to find her brushing off an unearthed bicycle that had seen better days.

Jamie held it propped up with both hands while she inspected it with a critical eye. "I can fix this," she said.

Dani's eyebrows rose and she gave the bike a dubious once over. "It's missing a seat."

Jamie made a dismissive sound while she crouched down to test the chain. "Damn," she swore. "This'll need replacing. Spokes are fine though. And it all looks like surface rust to me. I can fix it."

"Again," said Dani, pointing out the obvious. "There's no seat."

"Always such a Debbie downer," Jamie said even as she aimed a grin at Dani over her shoulder. She straightened. "C'mon. Let's go down to the petrol station."

"What for?" Dani asked, following along beside Jamie as she guided the bicycle with her hands, rolling it along down to the train tracks.

"Tires are flat," Jamie said, tapping one of said tires with the toe of her shoe for good measure. "Tread's fine, though. They've got free air down at the station, and I want to see how bad the damage is."

It was miles away to the gas station, but Dani didn't mind. Not when it was with Jamie. Not when their Saturday was free and they could spend their time aimlessly chatting about everything and nothing in particular. They were still talking and laughing when they arrived at the station, the bike ticking like a clock with every rotation of its old wheels.

Jamie propped the bike against the wall outside before they went in. The owner, Mr. Thompson, was wearing a baseball cap and reading a magazine inside. His head lifted when the bell attached to the door rang, but as he saw who it was that entered — not a customer, just a few kids — he swiftly lost interest. His gaze dropped back down to the magazine on the counter.

"Afternoon, Mr. Thompson," Dani greeted with a little wave.

He grunted a wordless reply, then said, "I don't do candy discounts."

Beside her, Jamie bristled. "We're not that young."

As he flicked to another page — some sort of automobile magazine with shiny cars and motorcycles splashed across it — his eyes moved up to them with a lazy sort of indifference. "You really are, kid."

There was a determined set to Jamie's jaw as she approached the counter and placed her hands on it. "I want to use your air pump outside."

"It's free, isn't it?" he said, his attention firmly back on the magazine. "Don't need to tell me you're going to use it. Just use it."

"I also want to buy some stuff to fix up a bicycle. Tire repair kit. New chain," Jamie ticked off items on her fingers. "Do you have anything that'll help clean up rust?"

Mr. Thompson was watching her now, cheek resting on one fist. "Matter of fact, I do."

"And I want to use your tools out back."

His eyebrows rose and he blinked slowly at her. "You got money to back up that mouth of yours, Miss Taylor?"

Jamie dug her hands into her pockets and pulled out a few crumpled up bills and spare bits of change. She slapped them onto the countertop. Mr. Thompson glanced down. "That's enough for a new chain and none of the others. Sorry, kid. Come back when you have more."

Slowly, Jamie deflated. She began to drag the money back into her hands from the table, but Dani stepped up beside her, rising up on her toes to better be seen. "Excuse me?"

Both of them turned to look at her.

Clearing her throat, Dani forged on. "Can we pay in something other than cash?"

Mr. Thompson's brow crinkled. Somehow he still managed to look bored despite it. "Like what?"

"Well, no offense, Mr. Thompson, but your shop -" Dani gestured around them, "- is kind of a mess. How about we clean it? Windows. Floors. Or -" she said hurriedly as he leaned back, "- we can operate the pump for anyone who comes around? That's -? That's worth something? Right?"

Glancing around the shop, he tipped back his baseball cap with the knuckle of one finger, then swiped at his nose with a thoughtful sniff. Jamie opened her mouth to say something, but Dani stood on her foot and surreptitiously shook her head. Jamie scowled but closed her mouth and kept silent.

Finally, he waved towards the door that led to the little warehouse and service shop out back. "Brooms and cleaning equipment is back there. And for God's sake don't touch the pumps. Last thing I need is you two spilling gas all over the road."

The effect was immediate. Jamie's face lit up like a Christmas tree, and she began tugging Dani towards the back room, saying, "I get the windows! I'm taller!"

"Hey!" Dani complained, but grudgingly accepted mop duties when push came to shove.

It was slow work, with very few customers to interrupt the boredom. Jamie made a game of pulling faces at Dani through the glass as she cleaned the windows from outside. Dani laughed and would pretend to descend down stairs as she walked. Mr. Thompson kept an eye on them from behind the counter, shaking his head and flipping through his magazine with a mutter under his breath, "Kids."

When a car eventually did roll up to one of the pump stations, Mr. Thompson straightened in his seat. Dani and Jamie were just about finished cleaning when Judy stepped out of her car and saw them. She hesitated, cocking her head curiously, before striding inside. As she opened the door, she kept it propped open with her hip and lifted her sunglasses so that they were perched atop her head.

"What on earth are you two doing?" she asked, looking between Jamie and Dani.

"Trading," said Dani.

"For bicycle parts," Jamie added, and she gestured with a rag towards the old bicycle leaning against the wall.

Judy aimed a questioning look at Mr. Thompson. "That right, Hunter?"

If anything, he looked a bit bashful. "Place needed cleaning, and they don't have money," he grumbled. "Didn't think there was any harm in it."

With a shrug, Judy said, "All right, then. If everyone's happy, then I'm happy. Can I get this filled up?" She pointed to her sedan. "Should only be half a tank, but I'm driving to Cedar Rapids to visit my sister tomorrow."

"Sure thing," Mr. Thompson said. He rose from his seat and ambled out to fill up the car.

Judy kept the door open for him and remained standing in the doorway. She crossed her arms. "And what are your plans for Christmas this year?" she asked Jamie.

Jamie lifted a spray bottle and squeezed some solution onto the window before wiping at the glass with the rag. "Dunno," she answered. "Same as last year. Home with Nan."

"Well, Dani's coming over to my place with her mom," Judy said, nodding towards Dani in question, who listened with a keen ear. "Why don't you and Ruth come over like you did for Thanksgiving? We usually open presents in the morning and have a big lunch."

"Oh, uh -" Jamie hesitated. She glanced through the glass at Dani, who was nodding furiously and all but bouncing on the balls of her feet. Even then, Jamie's expression was unsure. "I'll have to talk to Nan about it."

"Well, you tell Ruth to give me a call, all right?"

Jamie nodded and mumbled something that was too muffled through the glass for Dani to hear properly. Whatever it was made Judy laugh. "Oh, you're going to be trouble one day, Missy," Judy said with a good-natured chuckle.

Jamie’s only response was an impish grin.

When Mr. Thompson had finished refuelling Judy’s car, Judy approached the register to pay. As she pulled out a few bills from her wallet and handed them over, she said, “You know, you should hire the Jones’ boy. Stanley? I hear he’s looking for part time work.”

Mr. Thompson took the money and punched in a few buttons on the register to get her change. “Shop’s fine.”

Judy took the change with a shrug. “If you say so.” And on her way out, she paused, door held open. “Don’t work them too hard, Hunter. I’ll see you girls later.”

After her car had pulled away from the station and they were left alone with Mr. Thompson once more, Dani and Jamie turned to look at him. He had returned to his place ensconced behind the till, magazine open on the countertop, hiding behind a row of confectionaries and chewing gum. When he felt their eyes upon him, he went very still, hand frozen in place as he turned the page of a new magazine.

Sighing, he jerked his thumb to indicate the wall behind him. “Tools are in the back. Don’t hurt yourself. Especially you.” He jabbed his finger in Jamie’s direction. “Your grandmother puts the fear of God in me.”

The news of it spread like wildfire across the school the moment it happened. A fight in the east wing.

Dani and Eddie were already on their way there in search of Carson and Jamie who were late to lunch, when other students rushed past them shouting back the news. The pair exchanged a worried glance before taking off, following the clamor around the corner to where a group of kids were shouting and cheering on at a pile of indistinguishable bodies scuffling on the floor, swinging and pulling violently on each other.

Dani’s stomach dropped, and immediately cast her eyes around in search of Jamie, worrying at her lower lip when she couldn’t spot her in the crowd. In that same moment, a group of teachers came rushing through.

“All right, all right, settle down!” Mr. Roberts shouted, pushing his way through the crowd and pulling apart the wrestling bodies with the help of the art teacher, Mr. Keller.

When Mr. Roberts pulled up the recognizable form of a disheveled Jamie, breathing heavy, her nose bleeding, and a righteous fury burning in her eyes that Dani hadn’t seen since that day in the back alley, Dani sucked in a sharp breath.

Eddie sighed exasperatedly. “Again?”

“Nan’s gonna kill her,” Dani murmured, frowning in concern. When Jamie wiped at the blood pooling from her nose down to her mouth and chin with the sleeve of her shirt, wincing as she smeared it over her face, Dani winced along with her.

It didn’t make any sense. No one had bothered Jamie since the first year she arrived at North Liberty after her fight with Roger in the stairwell. The knowledge that Jamie was perfectly capable of defending herself, and fought like a caged beast when cornered had grown widespread across the school. Dani knew. She’d seen Jamie fearlessly tackle one of the twins during a playfight session at the river where, at the time, Tommy had already stood well over a foot taller than Jamie.

Dani took a step forward, scanning the pile of students being pulled to their feet to see who was responsible. A hand grasped her arm, pulling her to a stop.

“Danielle,” Eddie hissed.

Dani almost spun around to glare at him, but her eyes unexpectedly caught Jamie’s. Jamie’s eyes darted pointedly to a corner in the hallway before catching Dani’s again. Dani frowned, but Jamie only responded by pressing her mouth into a thin line and jerking her head towards the same direction, slowly being pulled away by the arm down the hall.

With one last grimace of a smile, Dani watched her go as another teacher began dispersing the crowd. When Jamie turned a corner, Dani finally exhaled, her shoulders dropping from where they had bunched up, and she scanned the direction of the hallway where Jamie gestured towards. Stepping towards it, she was once again tugged to a stop. She looked down at her hand where Eddie’s had at some point slinked down from her forearm to her hand, holding it in a loose grip. Dani darted her eyes up at him to see that he wasn’t even paying attention, still frowning uncomfortably at the laughing kids who still loitered the hallway.

Dani huffed. “Eddie.”

“Yeah?”

“Can I have my hand back?”

He turned to blink blankly at her, and then down at their clasped hands. “Oh,” he said, snatching his hand away, his cheeks turning pink. “Sorry.”

Dani sighed, and returned to scanning the hallway, stepping further through groups of her classmates, until she spotted a familiar figure on the ground, curled up and trembling against the lockers with their head buried in their arms.

Dani gasped. “Carson!” She rushed towards him, kneeling on the dusty floor and pressed a hand to his shoulder, “Carson, are you okay?”

He flinched away, head jerking up to stare at her with wide watery eyes. He relaxed when he saw it was just Dani, his face crumpling in relief as he nodded and wiped his cheeks.

Eddie kneeled on the other side of him, eyes fearful. “Are you sure? What happened?”

Risking a glance around them, there were still students being ushered away, some even staring and snickering in their direction. Dani’s stare hardened into a scowl. “Not here,” she said, pushing to her feet, holding out a hand for Carson, “Let’s go outside.”

With downcast eyes, Carson took her hand for her to help pull him up and didn’t let go as she guided both boys outside to their usual spot along the brick walls. They huddled together in a circle with their lunch bags in their laps.

“Well?” Eddie said, his knee bouncing, wearing a worried frown. “What happened?” Carson sighed and didn’t answer. “Are you in trouble?”

“No,” Carson said, then twisted his face. “At least, I don’t think so.”

“What do you mean you don’t think so? It’s a yes or no question.”

“Eddie,” Dani said, and his mouth promptly snapped shut, looking sheepish. Shaking her head, Dani returned her gaze back at Carson, the youngest O’Mara looking so unusually despondent. She shifted a little closer to him, their knees knocking together, rested a hand on his back and said softly, “It’s okay, you can tell us.”

Carson sighed again, and after a moment, he finally said, “You remember those guys I told you about?”

Dani’s heart sank, knowing immediately what he was referring to. She caught Eddie’s eyes and saw the realization slowly hit him, his face pulling into a grimace. It was only the natural state of things, when Tommy and David graduated from elementary school to the golden gates of high school, for opportunities to arise on the pecking order. With the twins gone, they had taken with them a safety net that had left their little group in peace for the past few years, and out of all of them, the ire of a particular group of the student body had zeroed in on Carson.

“What did they do?” Dani asked.

Carson shrugged morosely. “Calling me names again. Shoving me. Whatever.”

“But why was Jamie there?” Eddie asked, pushing his glasses up his nose.

“She walks with me to lunch sometimes,” Carson said.

Slowly, Dani softened, recalling all those moments in the past month where Jamie would rush off after the lunch bell rang, claiming to need the washroom, and arriving later at the lunchroom with Carson by her side.

The rest of the story came out of Carson gradually. Jamie not being there on time to accompany Carson to lunch. Being cornered by a group of boys in the hall, and by the time they were shoving Carson and getting aggressive, Jamie jumped into the fray.

“And she just -!” Carson’s eyes by now were wide and fervent, “She came out of nowhere and told them to the piss off!”

“Please don’t say that in front of mom,” Eddie groaned.

“And then, I don’t know, someone started shoving again, and suddenly they were just all fighting,” Carson said, taking a wild bite of his sandwich that he had pulled out in the middle of the story, “Oh! And then Roger jumped in — “

“Roger?” Dani and Eddie blurted in unison.

Swallowing hard, Dani leaned forward with a worried frown, “Was - was he fighting Jamie, too?”

The thought of Jamie taking on not just three, but four boys by herself sent her heart crashing, but Carson was already shaking his head before Dani even finished the question. “No! He was helping her!”

Dani blinked. Roger Simmons helping Jamie in a school fight. Maybe pigs really did fly.

As Carson’s story began to wind down to what Dani and Eddie already knew, Dani sobered, biting at her thumb. “I think you should go to the principal and tell them what happened.”

Eddie frowned. “Why?”

“Because he was there and the fight started because they were bullying him in the first place!”

Shifting on the concrete, Eddie hunched his shoulders. “I don’t know. It might make things worse.”

Dani huffed. “How?”

At Eddie’s noncommittal shrug, Carson shrank back, his eyes darting between Dani and Eddie before landing back on Dani. “I didn’t mean to get Jamie in trouble, I swear,” he mumbled.

Dani sighed and grasped his hand. “You didn’t,” she said, “Jamie knew what she was getting into. But if we go to the principal’s office now and tell them what happened, she might be in less trouble if they knew she was defending you and herself.”

Nodding eagerly, Carson was already haphazardly packing away the rest of his lunch and pushing to his feet. Dani almost smiled as she followed him to stand, but the tight lines of Eddie’s mouth stopped her.

They retreated back inside and towards the school office in silence. When they arrived, Dani immediately scanned the room for Jamie, but there was no sign of her and the office was empty. She eyed Principal Davis’ office, her brow knitted as they stepped towards Ms. Reeves.

After a short conversation with Ms. Reeves, Carson was guided towards the principal’s office with Ms. Reeves' hand on his back. Dani balled her hand into fists and bit her lip as she watched him, his shoulders bunched and his head bowed. Beside her, Eddie was anxiously bouncing on his toes, before abruptly blurting out, “Wait - uh. Ms. Reeves?” At the sound of her name, Ms. Reeves glanced back. Eddie stood up straight, pushing his shoulders back, and said, “Can we come with him?”

Ms. Reeves sighed and gave them a sympathetic smile. “I’m sorry, honey, but no,” she said,

“But he’s my brother.”

Ms. Reeves gestured towards the bench. “You can wait here for the rest of lunch if you’d like, but I’m afraid unless you have something important to add, you can’t go in.”

Both Dani and Eddie deflated, giving Carson one last grim smile and thumbs up that he returned with a small wave. When Ms. Reeves knocked and opened the principal’s door, Dani craned her neck for any sightings of Jamie, but all she could see were the backs of chairs populated by boys, and a stone faced Principal Davis. Carson was guided inside, and then the door was shut with a thud of finality.

Giving them one last pointed look, Ms. Reeves gestured towards the bench before retreating back to her desk, picking up the phone with a sigh.

There was nothing more to be done except to take a seat and wait, pretending like they couldn’t hear Ms. Reeves explaining to parents that they needed to come down to the school. Dani winced, a pool of dread whirling in her stomach for the oncoming hurricane of Nan. They snacked on the remains of their lunch as they waited silently.

When ten minutes had passed, and Carson still hadn’t made a reappearance, Eddie sighed anxiously. “He’s okay, right?”

Dani almost didn’t hear him, absentmindedly snacking on peanuts as she stared at the principal’s office door. “Yeah, if Jamie’s there, of course he is,” Dani replied.

“God, mom’s gonna kill me.”

“Why?” Dani finally pulled her eyes away to frown at him.

“‘Cause I didn’t watch out for him like Tommy and David,” he said, bouncing his knee, staring at the floor, his face distressed. “Or like you and Jamie.”

Dani’s shoulders dropped and she reached out to grasp his hand, easing it out of its clenched fist to clasp their palms together. “It’s not your fault,” she said, “There was nothing we could’ve done. Jamie was just lucky to be there at the right time today.”

Eddie huffed, his mouth twisting, still visibly concerned and displeased. Dani didn’t know what else to say, she opened her mouth, hoping to find the words to comfort him, but the distinct ominous sound of a tapping cane stopped her. At the sight of a scowling Nan marching in the office, the first to arrive as if the wrath of God had lit a fire under her, Dani immediately shot upright, pulling her hand from Eddie to stand.

Nan’s mouth thinned when she caught sight of her. She tisked, tapped Dani on the ankle with her cane, and said, “Sit.” Dani did as she was told, biting her lip as Nan stared at her, and then said, “Well? Where is the little shite?”

Swallowing hard, Dani pointed towards Principal Davis’ office. “Already in there,” she murmured.

With a grunt, Nan didn’t even bother checking in with Ms. Reeves. She marched towards the door and knocked hard on it with her cane. “Harvey Davis, open this door before I break it open.”

The door swung open to reveal Principal Davis wearing a grim smile, just short of paling. “Good afternoon, Mrs. Heron, thank you for — “

“Shut it, and let’s get this over with,” Nan said, pushing past him in the room. Principal Davis exhaled and shut the door.

Lunch passed quickly after that, a few other parents arrived but there was still no reappearance of Carson or either one of Eddie’s parents yet. They unwillingly shuffled off back to class where they waited out the rest of their day anxiously. Eddie was only able to finally relax when he received a note from the office telling him that Carson was taken home early by their dad, his head thunking on his desk with a loud sigh of relief. Dani chuckled at him, but she still felt worry pulling at her stomach. By the time the final bell rang, Jamie hadn’t returned to class at all, not even for the few things still remaining atop her desk. Dani took it upon herself to gather it all up and stuff them in her locker, careful to keep any loose pages wrinkle free.

When they were outside, free from school for the weekend, walking towards the beige car that was already waiting for them by the curb a little ways down the street, Eddie looked to her with an eager expression. “Hey, do you want to sleep over this weekend? David and Tommy promised to play Dungeons and Dragons with us.”

Dani’s face twisted. “To play what?”

“Don’t you remember? I told you ages ago. You said you’d play with us.”

“Oh, I - I wanted to go to Jamie’s to see if she’s okay,” she said, grimacing, and then added, “I was gonna sleep over.”

Eddie’s face fell. “But you promised.”

Dani did remember promising, absentmindedly nodding along to the idea in the O’Mara’s basement where they had all congregated around the tv to watch the latest animated Robin Hood movie, snickering quietly to Jamie’s commentary.

“I know,” Dani said, “I’m sorry. I’m just worried.”

Eddie rolled his eyes. “She’s probably fine.”

“She was bleeding everywhere!”

“So? She gets hurt like every other week, it’s nothing special,” he said, scowling at the ground.

Dani grabbed his arm and pulled him to a stop, her mouth thinned. “I’m sorry, Eddie,” she said, “I promise we can hang out soon, but Jamie’s my best friend, I can’t just not see if she’s okay.”

“I’m your best friend, too,” Eddie shot back, his face flushed and his eyes bright, and then froze, ducking his head with a timid expression, and murmured, “I just wanted to hang out.”

Dani’s heart sank. She didn’t know what else to do or to say. She squeezed at his arm that she still held and moved to slip her hand down to his, but he pulled away with a huff.

“It’s fine, just forget it,” he said, and continued towards the car.

She followed after him. “Eddie,” she called out, “I’m sorry.”

“It’s fine,” he said, resignation in his voice, not looking at her.

Quietly, Dani worried at her lower lip and followed Eddie into the car where Mike was waiting for them. They settled into the backseat and buckled up, both visibly troubled that Mike twisted in his seat to give them an awkward consoling grin. “Hard day, huh?” Mike said, eyes darting between them. “Don’t you kids worry. Carson’s doing all right.”

When they both silently nodded, Mike’s gaze landed on Dani. While for the most part, Dani and Mike rarely spoke more than five minutes at a time with each other, he was still always a kind and welcoming man. He gave her a tight grin and a nod. “Jamie, too. I think. Lord knows with that grandmother of hers. Never seen Davis turn that color before.”

Dani breathed out a chuckle.

“Ah, there it is,” he said, shaking a finger at her, “Knew that was hidden there somewhere.”

Dani ducked her head as Mike twisted back around in his seat to start the engine. As they took off down the street, Dani risked a glance at Eddie out of the corner of her eye to see him already staring at her. When she caught his eyes, he spun his head away sharply. Dani rolled her eyes and nudged at his feet with her own. When he didn’t respond she did it again, knocking it hard enough that there was an audible thud. He sighed and gave her a look that she returned with a grin. He huffed and turned back to the window, but Dani could still see his smile in the slant of his profile.

When they arrived home, Eddie was the first to offer a murmured goodbye once they got out of the car. Seeing the peace offering for what it was, Dani hugged him tight and said, “I really am sorry.”

“I know,” he murmured, a dejected slump to his shoulders, before pulling away and starting towards the front door of his house where Mike was already shuffling inside.

With the O’Mara’s front door shut, Dani was off like a shot towards her own house. Unlocking the door with her keys and shoving her way into the empty house to rush upstairs to her room and pack.

Nan gave her a withering stare when she finally opened the door to Dani’s insistent knocking. Lungs just short of burning from speed walking to the white bungalow, Dani almost shrank back when Nan arched an eyebrow, but she stood her ground and gave Nan a hesitant grin.

Breathing out sharply through her nose in what bizarrely sounded like laugh, Nan shook her head and dryly said, “Took your sweet time, did you?”

“Um.”

Nan huffed, and jerked her head towards the house. “Well, get inside. I’ve got a pot brewing already,” she said, disappearing back into the house. “And take your bloody inhaler before you pass out on my floor.”

Dani did as she was told, shuffling inside and shutting the door behind her to peel off her shoes and coat. She could hear Nan moving around in the kitchen, porcelain cups and plates clinking as Dani quickly took a puff from her inhaler, feeling better already as she stuffed it back in her bag and followed the sounds.

Nan was already setting the table with three sets of cups and a blue tin that Dani knew held Nan’s coveted cookies, the old rickety table wobbling with every gentle movement due to its uneven legs. Dani dropped her bag in the corner of the kitchen as she scanned the rooms, not finding Jamie anywhere. “Where is she?” she asked quietly.

“Out back working on that mess of a bike,” Nan said.

Dani eagerly turned to make her way to the door leading to the backyard, but jerked to a stop when Nan held up the length of her cane to Dani’s stomach. She darted her eyes up towards Nan, blinking in surprise. Nan’s mouth thinned and she jerked her head to the table. “Sit,” she said in a tone of voice that brooked no room for argument.

Feeling her stomach sink, Dani spared a glance towards the back door, and followed Nan to the table, sitting opposite where she stood, stiff in her seat and her hands balled into fists in her lap. “Is she grounded?” Dani carefully asked.

“Aye, she is,” Nan said, busy making a single cup of tea and setting up a saucer of what Dani recognized were Jamie’s favorite cookies.

Dani waited for a moment before asking, “How long?”

“As long she needs to be,” Nan sharply replied.

Dani sank back into her seat, biting her lip, watching as Nan set the cup of tea and saucer of cookies onto a small tray before sliding over an empty cup towards Dani. “Make your tea,” she said, her eyes so piercing that Dani slowly sat back up and reached for the pot. Nan nodded once and gathered the tray in her hand. “Wait here,” she said, and started towards the back screen door.

Straining her ears towards the backyard, Dani made her tea as silently as she could, hearing the tap of Nan’s cane and the whooshing sound of the door being pulled open, letting in a cool draft. But when all she could hear from the pair outside were muffled voices, words indistinguishable and muted, Dani huffed. For a moment, she strongly considered sneaking closer, taking advantage of her socked feet sliding against the floor, but the fear of getting caught kept her rooted to her chair.

The muffled voices abruptly grew louder. “But that’s not fair!” Jamie whined.

“You don’t see me complaining about missing half a day’s paycheck, do you?” Nan retorted, “You sit out here, have your cuppa and biscuits, and keep your hands busy or so help me God.”

“But —”

“Oh, for Christ’s sake, girl. It’s not the end of the world,” Nan said, and stomped back inside, closing the screen door shut with a hard thud.

Wincing in sympathy, Dani could easily picture the indignant glower on Jamie’s face, her cheeks flushed and her brows deeply furrowed.

Nan returned with a scowl, sitting in her seat opposite Dani and resting her cane on the table that wobbled slightly at the movement. Holding her cup in her hands, letting the heat warm her skin, Dani sat quietly as Nan made her own cup of tea, not knowing where to start. It wasn’t that Nan was that terribly difficult to talk to, with her shrewd eyes, endless tales of her time during both World Wars, the spite that kept her going, and a sixth sense for whenever Dani and Jamie somehow managed to find themselves doing something they shouldn't, but well — she was difficult to talk to.

Shoving the tin of cookies towards Dani, Nan gave her a sharp look and said, “Before you get ahead of yourself, I’ve already heard the sorry tale of it.”

Dani paused, and then reached into the tin for a Jammie Dodger. “So you know it’s not her fault?” Dani tried, blinking her eyes innocently, taking a small bite of the cookie, “That she was defending herself?”

Nan snorted, pointing at her with a cookie. “Don’t try that look with me,” she said, “It may work on Judy, but it sure as hell won’t work on me.” Dani ducked her head and took a morose sip of her tea. Nan continued, “I know she was defending the O’Mara boy. But she broke her promise. Got into another fight. Got into trouble. Sure, she helped the boy, but she got nothing for it except a week's worth of detention and the threat of suspension. Again.”

Dani shrank further back in her seat, her frown deepening as she let the words sink in and ate her cookie, and finally said, “But she did though. Get something out of it, that is.”

She looked up and caught Nan’s eye, expression unchanged save for the arch of an eyebrow. She opened her mouth to speak, but nothing came out. What she wanted to say — that Jamie proved how much she cared, that Jamie earned a wealth of loyalty that Dani witnessed bloom in Carson’s eyes that she hadn’t seen before — all of it seemed to lodge itself in the back of her throat. Instead, she needed Nan to know the truth of it, she needed Nan to see Jamie for who she was, the importance of it pressing on her chest.

“Jamie’s a good person,” Dani finally murmured.

Nan’s mouth pulled tight. “Well, of course she is,” she said sharply, “She may be a bleeding pain in my arse, but she’s a far sight better than her mother and her knob of a father.”

Dani blinked. Taken aback at not only Nan’s irritation, as if annoyed that Dani reminded her of something that should’ve been obvious, but at the mention of Jamie’s parents. Parents who Jamie had never once mentioned before besides that one time during Dani’s birthday. Always shrugging off questions and changing the subject when mention of them were brought up. It felt strange, discussing something so deeply personal about Jamie, something that Jamie seemed to avoid at all costs, when she was only a few feet away out of hearing range. Dani chanced a glance behind her to where the screen door would be, fearing that any second Jamie might crack and stomp back inside.

“Doesn’t talk much about them, does she?” Nan said, pulling back Dani’s attention. At Nan’s questioning stare, Dani quietly shook her head. Nan hummed, and then she too shook her head, leaning forward on the table, ignoring the way it shifted again, the pull of her stare so acute that Dani couldn’t blink or turn away.

“Now, you listen here. I’ll tell you exactly what I told her,” Nan said, ”She did a good thing, truly. But she went about it the wrong way, you see. There are more ways to go about things than with the end of your fist. I won’t tolerate it. Not in this house. Not again. Nothing good will ever come of it if she keeps it up. Do you understand?”

Dani was quiet for a long moment, absorbing the words, and then nodded.

“Good,” Nan said, leaning back and taking a sip of her tea. “Figured as much. Lord knows the girl was as wild as the wind blew back in England. But ever since coming here and meeting you, she’s been mellowing in her own way, so I suppose…I suppose I should offer you my thanks for your bit in it.”

Dani’s eyes widened, a hot flush warming her cheeks and spreading across her chest. It wasn’t often Nan handed out such free praise or thanks. A pleased thrill ran down Dani’s spine, and the corners of her mouth curled into a shy smile that she hid behind her cup as she finished her tea.

Tisking, Nan took a healthy bite of a cookie. “Don’t let that get to your head. And don’t expect me to ever say that again. You both still drive me mad,” she said, and after a moment, she sighed. “And I reckon you should be getting home now before it gets too dark. Last thing I need is your mother over here.”

“Oh,” Dani murmured, and then finding her courage, she added, “Could you — um. Could you not tell Jamie that I was here, then? I just — I don’t think she’d be happy that I was here, and she didn’t get to see me.”

Nan harrumphed. “Would serve her right,” she said with a displeased twist to her mouth.

“Please?”

Nan watched her for a long moment, expression blank save for a squared jaw, and said, “I’ll think about it.”

Dani’s mouth dared to pull into a grin. Nan huffed and stood, moving to gather her cup. Seeing this, Dani rushed out of her seat to help, gathering both her own and Nan’s cup to set in the sink.

“Buttering me up now, eh?” Nan said, a hand on her cane and the other on her hip. When Dani merely grinned and shrugged, Nan shook her head and then abruptly paused, her eyes scrutinizing. “Did you walk all the way here?”

Nodding, Dani ducked her eyes away from the intensity of Nan’s gaze. Nan hummed again, made a gesture towards the front door and simply said, “Get your things.”

While Nan disappeared somewhere deeper in the house where the bedrooms were, Dani gathered one last cookie, her bag, and slipped back on her shoes and coat. As she waited by the door, itching to see Jamie just once before she left, Nan reappeared wearing a thick coat. Dani offered her arm for Nan to hold as she pushed her feet into a pair of boots and spared one last glance towards the back of the house, letting Nan guide her outside.

The drive home was silent between the pair, the cabin quiet besides the rickety rumble of Nan’s truck and the radio on low playing some oldies station. When Nan pulled up to Dani’s house, the skyline pink and purple in the evening twilight, she turned to thank Nan only to find her scowling towards her home. Frowning, Dani followed Nan’s gaze to look it over, seeing nothing amiss. An empty driveway, a neat lawn, porch lights off.

“You got something to eat for dinner?” Nan abruptly asked.

Dani caught her eyes again and shrugged, vaguely recalling leftovers in the fridge. Peanut butter and bread in the cupboard. “I think so, yeah.”

“Best pop over to Judy’s then.”

Her eyes drifted away to the O’Mara’s house, recalling Eddie’s dejected face. A spark of hope lit inside her. Maybe there was still time to turn things around. Turning back to Nan, Dani nodded, and said, “Thank you for tea. And the ride home.”

Nan grunted in response, and just as Dani unbuckled her seat belt and moved to open the door, Nan’s voice stopped her. “Dani,” she said, her voice demanding attention. Dani paused as Nan gave her a look, knowing and firm. “Two days. Then you’ll see her.”

Dani nodded faintly. Two days. Two days without Jamie. An entire weekend. Almost a lifetime really. Not once in the past two years could Dani recall going more than a day without talking to or seeing Jamie. The idea of it felt almost like cutting off a limb.

“Two days,” Dani repeated, nodding again. She could manage that, she thought, resignation settling heavy on her shoulders. What could be worse than two days?

The moment Dani saw Jamie stepping foot back on the school grounds the following Monday morning, Dani nearly took her off her feet in a running hug. Jamie grunted upon impact, forced back a foot or two.

“Ow, fuck.”

“Sorry, sorry, sorry,” Dani said, starting to remove her arms from around Jamie’s shoulders, but Jamie just laughed, pulling her back into the hug.

“Missed you too,” Jamie said, a smile in her voice.

They stood there hugging for a good minute, giggling as they roughly rocked each other back and forth, as if they hadn’t seen each other for years instead of two days.

“Okay, okay, let me see,” Dani finally said, pulling away to rest her hands on Jamie’s shoulders, getting a good look at her face. Jamie sighed and rolled her eyes under the scrutiny, but sure enough, her face was a discolored mess. The skin around her left eye was bruised purple and red, looking tender to the touch, and her cheek and jaw were mottled a dark purple. Dani winced and said, “You look worse than you did last time.”

“What? You don’t think it brings out the color of my eyes?”

Dani snorted and shoved her by the shoulders. Jamie allowed herself to rock back with a good-natured grin.

“Least my nose didn’t break, thank god,” Jamie said, gently prodding the bridge of her nose, knuckles also discolored, then grimaced. “Though one wanker did manage to get a grip on my braid. Felt like my scalp was gonna rip off. Had a headache all weekend.”

Dani winced again, leaning closer to get a better look, and then gently poked at her bruised cheek. At the slight touch, Jamie jerked back as though Dani had struck her. “Ow! Christ, what’s wrong with you?” she said, though there was a teasing glint in her eyes.

Biting back a laugh, Dani poked her again, this time in the chest. “You don’t get to do that again,” she said, sobering.

“Or what? You gonna call the sheriff on me?”

“No,” Dani said hotly, “You just — you scared me. And I’m pretty sure Nan will lock you away forever next time, so please don’t.”

Jamie’s face blanched, and then shook her head, scowling. “That old nag has it out for me, I swear.”

“She cares for you.”

Jamie gave her a look. “That right?”

“Yes,” Dani said earnestly.

At that, Jamie’s shoulders dropped, her face softening for a moment and then she huffed. “Right. Or you were just that bored without me,” she said, smirking.

Dani rolled her eyes. The weekend hadn’t been a complete waste in truth. Eddie had brightened immeasurably when Dani returned with only the simple explanation that Jamie was grounded. He had even managed a sympathetic grin before leading her deeper into the house. It was like any other weekend spent at the O’Mara’s, except this time there was no Jamie with her silly commentary or teasing as Dani fumbled her way through some game involving fantasy creatures and dice. It almost felt like the days before Jamie and Nan had arrived at North Liberty, except now there had been a distinct large gap of the puzzle missing.

Before Dani could respond however, there was the sound of shoes slapping on concrete.

“Jamie!” was all the warning they both got before Jamie was once again nearly bowled over by the slim frame of Carson. Dani laughed when Jamie swore again, hugging Carson back and laughing, ruffling his hair.

When the bell eventually rang to signal the start of the school day, they made their way to class. There wasn’t much fanfare to Jamie’s return beyond the quiet stares and hushed whispers behind hands through the halls and during class. Jamie at this point had learned to ignore it all, sighing and rolling her eyes whenever she managed to find herself the centerpoint of gossip. Dani on the other hand had no issues with scowling back until those staring spun away. By the time lunch rolled around and they were settling in their seats in the lunchroom, Dani was in the middle of pinning a smirking Jackie with a hard stare when Carson slid next to Jamie with a large tupperware in hand.

Jamie snorted. “Don’t tell me you brought an entire meal with you for lunch,” she said, pulling back Dani’s attention.

Shyly shaking his head, Carson pushed the container towards Jamie. “It’s for you.”

Jamie blinked. “For me?”

Nodding, Carson grinned and said, “Open it!”

A look of uncertainty crossed Jamie’s face. She caught Dani’s eyes, quirking an eyebrow, but Dani just shrugged in response, at a loss herself. Shaking her head, Jamie finally opened the container and her eyes went wide at the sight of a pile of chocolate chip cookies and a big ziploc bag of puppy chow packed inside.

“Holy shit,” Jamie said. “This all for me?”

Biting into his sandwich, Carson nodded and grinned around a mouthful of food. Chuckling, Jamie immediately snatched up a cookie and took a bite. Dani laughed, and reached forward for one of her own.

Jamie swiped at her hand. “Ah, haven’t you heard? These are mine,” Jamie said. Eddie snorted into his own lunch as Dani scoffed, pulling her hand back. “What? You telling me you don’t have your own stash somewhere at home?”

“No,” Dani glowered, her mouth threatening to pull into a smile.

“We made them only for you,” Carson said.

Jamie paused, frowning. “Why?”

Growing shy again, Carson shrugged. “When mom heard what happened, she thought it would be nice if we made you some cookies.”

A grin slowly grew on Jamie’s face. “You helped make these?” she asked, gesturing with the half bitten cookie in hand. At Carson’s slow nod, her grin grew wide and she stuffed the rest of the cookie in her mouth, “Think you’ve found your future calling.”

Carson brightened, shooting upright, but then pulled his lips between his teeth, growing visibly anxious. “I’m sorry you got in trouble.”

Jamie’s chewing slowed. “Don’t worry about it, mate,” she said, shrugging.

Carson’s face twisted. “But, you got beat up! And detention! And grounded! And -!” he paused, pointing at Dani “ — Dani was sad you weren’t with us for the sleepover!”

Pausing, Eddie blinked at Dani. “You were?”

Warmth spread across Dani’s cheeks as all eyes turned towards her. She shrugged helplessly under their stares.

“Well, duh,” Carson said, like it should’ve been obvious. Then he sobered again, remorse in his eyes, “But yeah, I’m — I’m sorry.”

Jamie sighed, and was silent for a long moment before meeting Carson’s eyes. “Well...have any of them bugged you since? Looked at you funny at all?” Slowly, Carson shook his head. Jamie grinned softly in response and shrugged. “Then it was worth it.”

At that, Carson’s shoulders dropped from where they were bunched to his ears, and he matched Jamie’s grin when she ruffled his hair. Even as she did so, she slid the container closer to Dani, who happily took a cookie.

“Ed?” Jamie said, smirking as she shook the container at Eddie. “Biscuit for your clearly shattered nerves last week?”

He rolled his eyes. “Stop calling me that,” he mumbled for what seemed the millionth time, but eventually grinned and took a cookie, “Thanks.”

The rest of the school day passed by in a blur, happy that Jamie was back, happy that things were back to normal.

After waiting out Jamie’s detention, they all exited the school together where Jamie jostled Carson with a wide grin and egged him on into a race towards the car. Before either of them could start a proper countdown, Jamie shoved her books into Dani’s arms and took off like a shot, laughing madly.

“Hey! That’s cheating!” Carson shouted, shoving his own books in Eddie’s arms and ran off after her.

Dani smiled broadly and shook her head as she watched them go, juggling the books in hand. Jamie, already far ahead with her speed and jumpstart, twisted her head around to shout something back at Carson, and abruptly tripped over her own feet in the slick frozen grass and went tumbling across the ground. Dani somehow managed to wince and laugh at the same time as Carson sped past Jamie’s sprawling form, pointing and cackling before tripping himself, going flying on the grass. Even Eddie managed to double over laughing with Dani as they reached the prone pair.

When Jamie hitched along for the ride home, Mike, who had been patiently waiting with a magazine in the car, twisted in his seat to give Jamie a grin. “Nice shiner, bud. Welcome back.”

Jamie’s shoulders straightened proudly. When Dani snorted and rolled her eyes, Jamie nudged her in the ribs, and Dani quickly nudged her back, the pair grinning wide.

But when they arrived at the O’Mara household, a strange tension coiled at Jamie’s shoulders when they stepped inside and slipped off their shoes. Dani frowned curiously at her and the tightness of her mouth and the hard grip she had on her school books that were held together by an old brown belt, an unusual apprehension about her. When they all wandered to the kitchen where Judy already set up shop, chopping at vegetables, Jamie stood even more upright.

“Oh, there she is!” Judy said, brightening into a smile when she caught sight of them. She left her kitchen knife on the counter and made a beeline towards Jamie. “All right, come here. Let me take a look.”

At the sound of the boys snickering, Jamie’s eyes went wide as Judy carefully framed her face with her hands, gently tilting her head side to side, Judy’s face one of concentration as she studied Jamie’s bruises. “Hmm, just as I thought,” Judy said, nodding decisively and smiled wide, resting her hands on Jamie’s shoulders. “A raging case of moxie and a heart of gold.”

Underneath the bruises, Jamie’s face went red as she blinked, the tension easing from her shoulders. Judy merely laughed, and pulled her into a hug, murmuring something that Dani couldn’t hear. Jamie stood stiff before slowly returning the hug, her arms held loose and awkward.

When Judy finally pulled away, Jamie ducked her head and murmured, “Um. Thank you, Mrs. O’Mara.” She raised her head, meeting Judy’s eyes, only to drop her gaze once more. “And for the biscuits, too.”

“I should be thanking you. Carson hasn’t stopped talking about it.”

Carson sputtered, an arm elbow deep in a bag of chips he had pulled out from a cupboard. “No, I haven’t!”

Eddie laughed, making a grab for the bag, but Carson snatched it away just in time with a scowl.

Judy hummed, unconvinced, and turned to give Dani a knowing grin. “He even mentioned what you did, Danielle,” she said, “What you did for Jamie when she first got here.” At the mention of that old memory, of stepping between Jamie and a group of bullies before they were ever friends, Dani blushed hotly, catching Jamie’s eyes as she smirked at Dani. “So, I figured, I’d make us all something special today, just for my two brave girls.”

Jamie blinked again, seemingly frozen as Dani lit up and asked, “Lasagna?”

“Got it in one,” Judy grinned, but then sobered as she looked back at Jamie, “Just please, promise me no more fights? The twins give me enough stress as it is. Not just for the sake of my own heart, but the health of your grandmother’s?”

Jamie’s mouth twisted. “Did Nan talk to you?”

“She may have mentioned it.” Judy’s face gave away nothing.

Jamie’s brows knitted into a slight resigned frown, and slowly she nodded. Pleased, Judy grinned again and gently nudged Jamie towards Dani with a pat to her back. “You kids go wash up and do your schoolwork, and then maybe you could come help me put the lasagna together. And — “ she sighed exasperatedly, returning to the counter “ — boys, put that away before you ruin your appetite.”

Carson nodded eagerly as Eddie groaned, his mouth full of chips, rolling the bag up and stuffing it carelessly back into the cupboard before they both shuffled out of the kitchen. Dani snorted, shaking her head after them, and turned to see Jamie stepping quietly towards her, an odd look on her face.

When Dani led her out of the kitchen, Jamie turned to her, her eyes filled with quiet bewilderment, and slowly asked, “What just happened?”

Dani smiled faintly, recognizing the look in Jamie’s eyes, one that Dani occasionally wore herself after long days in the O’Mara household. If there were words for it, an explanation to it all, then Dani couldn’t even begin to name or explain it, so she shrugged helplessly, grinning when Jamie rolled her eyes.

Later, as Eddie and Jamie were finishing the last of their math homework at the kitchen table, and Carson and Dani helped Judy layer massive baking pans with lasagna noodles, sauce, and various fillings, they heard the sound of the front door opening and the twins crashing in.

“Is she here?” one of them called.

“She better be here!”

Judy pointed. “She’s here.”

Tommy and David rushed into the kitchen, and made a beeline towards Jamie.

“Oh, Christ,” Jamie groaned, already tensing her shoulders.

Judy tisked. “Language.”

Dani laughed, a warmth settling over her as she watched the twins accost Jamie, jostling her shoulders as they proudly remarked at her bruises, comparing them to their own old fighting tokens, and demanded she tell her side of the tale. Jamie tried shoving them off, grumbling and elbowing them in the ribs, but couldn't hide her wide smile.

On the day after the first snowfall of the year, Jamie insisted they go for a walk.

"Don't you have snow in England?" Dani asked.

They were sitting on the back porch of Jamie's house, jamming their feet into boots. Dani was dressed in a pink puffy jacket and swaddled up with a hat and scarf. Meanwhile Jamie had haphazardly tossed on a baggy jacket over her woollen sweater with some ragged fingerless gloves, as if that ensemble would be enough protection from the cold. Years of experience of Iowa winters told Dani that would not be the case.

"Yeah, but not like -" Jamie gestured with one of her boots towards the backyard, "- this."

The blanket of snow was deep and utterly untouched, extending beyond the treeline. The front lawn was another matter entirely. Jamie had spent the previous day shovelling a path from the sidewalk to the front steps until she was pink in the face from exertion, all while Nan watched with a waiting cup of tea in hand as Jamie's reward.

Dani squinted across the glare of sunlight that glittered across the white bank of fresh snowfall. "Not sure why this is so impressive," she said. "It happens every year, and just makes it difficult to walk everywhere."

"You love it," Jamie said.

Dani made a face. "I don’t. It's so cold. And I hate slipping on the sidewalks."

"Yeah, but it means the outdoor track days are cancelled for gym class."

At that, Dani paused. "Well. Yeah. Okay. I do like that."

"Told you." Jamie grinned and Dani rolled her eyes.

Jamie stamped her heel into the final boot, and stood, holding her hands out to Dani, who grabbed hold and allowed herself to be hauled to her feet. Jamie tugged her upright with such force, that Dani — eyes wide — lost her balance, and they went toppling over backwards off the porch into the snow with a chorus of cries and laughter and a spray of white all round.

Dani shuffled into a crouch, Jamie's body warm beneath her and shaking with laughter. "You did that on purpose!"

"I didn't! I swear!" Jamie said, and her smile was so broad it beamed almost as brightly as the sun's reflection. "This, I'm doing on purpose though."

Dani screwed up her face in confusion. "What -?"

In answer, Jamie reached to either side, grabbed two handfuls of snow, and shoved them into Dani's face and neck. A burst of icy water melted down the gap in Dani's scarf, and she shrieked, rolling off Jamie and further into the bank, limbs flailing in her attempts to escape. If this had been the twins, they would have pounced, turning it into a fight to test the trammels of time. Instead, Jamie cackled with laughter and scrambled to her feet, already bounding off towards the treeline with unwieldy steps.

"C'mon!" she shouted over her shoulder.

Shaking herself off, Dani pushed herself upright and started after her, ire singing in her teeth. She slipped and caught herself and stumbled along in Jamie’s wake. Jamie's footsteps were less dainty little impressions and more great gouges taken out of the snow, as though two tracks had been dragged from the porch and off to the trees. Jamie waited for her to catch up beneath the oak from which they had hung a tire swing the two years before. Her dark hair was struck through with snow as if it were a net of clustered stars, and her eyes sparkled. Whatever vengeance Dani had been planning to exact withered and died at the root when Jamie looked at her like that.

"Where are we going?" Dani asked.

Jamie shrugged and turned, stomping away with Dani at her side. "Dunno. Wherever we like. Don't suppose that old tire dump is still a few miles that way?"

"Probably," said Dani. "Why?"

"It's the closest thing to a hill in these parts. I was thinking if it's covered in snow, we might be able to slide down it."

The logic was sound, so Dani nodded. "All right. Are there lots of hills where you're from?"

They stepped up and onto the slightly elevated ground which indicated the train tracks. When Jamie's footing slipped, Dani grabbed hold of her arm to keep her from face-planting into the snow.

"Cheers," Jamie said, but she did not let go of Dani's hand, instead weaving their fingers together and tugging Dani straight down the abandoned track line. "Some hills, yeah. Bigger than here, by far. No mountains though. I'd love to see some honest mountains."

"We can go sometime. You know -" Dani swung their arms back and forth in an exaggerated arc. "When we learn to drive. Maybe before college."

Jamie's brow furrowed. "College? That's not old enough, is it?"

"Yeah, it is. I want to go to one out of state. Somewhere -" Dani hesitated to even voice the idea, but here, alone with Jamie, a pale sky overhead and a pale earth stretching out before her for miles in every direction, she felt brave enough to admit it. "Somewhere not here."

Jamie's gloves were scratchy against her fingers. "You mean university?" she snorted. "Christ. Never imagined myself going to one of those."

"Well, why not?" Dani asked. "Doesn't your Nan want you to go?"

"Not sure if she could afford it even if she did," said Jamie dryly. "But, nah. Not for me. After this, I'm done. Can you imagine me sitting around reading books and writing papers all day? What a laugh."

Jamie chuckled and shook her head, and a fine dusting of snow was knocked loose from the shoulders of her jacket. Dani didn't join her. She contemplated the idea — finishing school here, running off somewhere else, anywhere else, incurring the wrath of her mother, who had always insisted Danielle would go to university — and found the very notion thrilling in a way that made her feel slightly ill. She swallowed, and Jamie squeezed her hand before letting go.

The train tracks were lifted just enough that they poked up through the snow, narrow twin mounds that ran for miles and miles and ended at an old shunt that was still in operation beyond the next town's fertilizer plant. Jamie stood atop one track and walked the steel. The toe of her boots brushed away any snow atop it as she went. She held her arms outstretched to balance herself, and Dani stayed within reach so that Jamie could grab onto her shoulder should she need to regain her balance.

"What do you want to do?" Dani asked.

"Don't know. Don't care," Jamie answered. "I'll figure it out. One day at a time. What about you?"

Dani cast her mind back. She considered the question carefully. Jamie's outstretched hand tapped her on the shoulder, not out of a request for her to answer, but only because Jamie was see-sawing her arms back and forth to keep her footing without needing to hop off the track.

Eventually, Dani said, "Teach kids, maybe."

Jamie snorted, and a plume of white left her mouth like a cloud. "What? Like Mary Poppins?"

Dani could feel her own cheeks burn, and knew she must have been as pink as her puffy jacket. "No," she said primly. "Like Miss Blythe."

Miss Blythe, their new homeroom teacher this year, was young and smart and pretty. She smiled a lot, and she always wore nice skirts and flowing blouses. She remembered everyone's names, and her hair was shiny and dark when she bowed her head at her desk to read their assignments. Dani couldn't think of anyone she would like to resemble so much as Miss Blythe.

Jamie shot her a grin. "You like her, don't you?"

"Of course, I like her," said Dani. “I think she’s wonderful.”

"Not like that. You like like her."

If Dani's cheeks had been flushed before, it was nothing to the way heat flooded her face now. "I -! I do not!"

"Mhmm," said Jamie, and her grin had graduated into a fully fledged smirk now. "Sure."

Dani spluttered indignantly. "That’s not -! I don't -! Well, she's very pretty, but that's hardly -! I just think she's nice. And she always treats everyone fairly. And she - she makes you feel included, and she's so good at - Stop laughing! Jamie!"

"Aw! Poor Poppins with a crush on teacher!" Jamie laughed. "Don't let Ed hear about that. He'll be jealous."

With a huff, Dani shoved at Jamie's shoulder, and Jamie staggered off into the snow — arms pinwheeling — but didn't fall down. Jamie snickered good-naturedly and stepped back into place atop the rail to continue balancing her way down the track. "You'd make a good teacher."

Dani sucked in a lungful of icy air so fast it made her chest burn. She glanced up at Jamie, who was concentrating on putting one foot in front of the other. "You think so?"

"Yup," said Jamie, and for all her earlier teasing her voice now was sure and firm. She did not expand; she had only certainty. Then she added with an exaggerated shiver, "Wish we'd brought a thermos with a cuppa. Bloody freezing out here."

"I told you to bring Nan's extra scarf."

Jamie pulled a grotesque face as though she'd bitten into something rotten. "It smells like mothballs."

"Better that than be cold."

"Rather be cold than smell like pure shite."

Shaking her head, Dani reached up and unwound her own white scarf. She zipped up her jacket the rest of the way to accommodate the cold, and held the scarf out to Jamie. "Here."

Jamie blinked down at her. She lowered her arms and her steps slowed. "Really," she said. "I'm fine. Don't worry about me."

"Just take the scarf, dummy," said Dani, shaking it at her so that one of the tasselled ends trailed from her fist.

"You get cold easier than me."

"True," Dani said. "But my jacket is puffier and I also have my hat."

Reluctantly, Jamie took the scarf with a mumbled, "Thanks."

"You're welcome," Dani replied and began to continue on her way.

Jamie did not immediately follow. Confused, Dani turned around after a few steps to find Jamie still staring down at the scarf with an odd expression on her face, as though she didn't quite know what to do with it.

"Do you need help?" Dani asked. "Is your collarbone okay?"

At that Jamie gave a derisive snort. "Collarbone's fine. That was ages ago, anyway."

Dani frowned. She knew Jamie was stubborn. And she knew that some sub-surface injuries could ache for years. Nan was always cursing about her knee in the cold weather, after all. She herself had never broken a bone in all twelve and a half years of her life, and had only the experiences of others to go by.

Before she could say anything else though, Jamie had begun walking along the track again, scarf stretched between her hands. “It’s just -” she lifted it round her neck “- still warm. Wasn’t really expecting -”

It happened in an instant. One moment, Jamie was balancing her way across the rail track. The next, she had slipped headlong and was writhing on the ground, gloved hands clutching her face. Dani’s eyes went wide. A splash of red sliced all across the snow.

“Fuck!” Jamie’s shout was muffled into her palms. “Fuck!”

“Jamie!”

Stumbling forward, Dani rushed to her side. As gently as she could, she pulled Jamie’s hands away from her face. The honed and frosted edge of the old railway track had split a broad line along Jamie’s chin and lower lip, so that the skin there had burst at the seams like the flesh of an overripe fruit. Blood dripped steadily from Jamie’s chin and the line of her jaw, splattering the ivory-coloured scarf around her neck with wine-dark splotches.

“Are you all right?” Dani asked, trembling hands still holding Jamie by the wrists.

Jamie’s eyes were squeezed shut. She nodded. “Yeah. Absolutely peachy. Shit -!” Her tongue darted out and she hissed when the tip of it touched the gash in her lip.

“Here.” Dani grabbed the ends of the scarf and pressed them tightly against the wound, stemming the flow of blood.

Jamie tried to pull away. “Your scarf - It’ll get all -”

“Who cares about the scarf?” Dani said, and she wound the scarf in such a way that it could act as makeshift gauze. Even after it was tied and tethered in place, her fingers lingered against the warm skin of Jamie’s neck. She brushed her thumbs against the bluffs of Jamie’s cheeks, rubbing away a smatter of blood there. “Let’s get you home. You’ll probably need to see a doctor and get stitches.”

Jamie’s eyes were wide and she was staring up at her. The scarf bobbed as she opened and closed her mouth, but said nothing. Then she winced. “Yeah. Yeah, all right.”

Dropping her hand to Jamie’s shoulder, Dani helped her up and guided her around so they could slowly make their way back to the house. Jamie shivered, and Dani draped her arm across her shoulders to huddle her closer, so that their hips jostled when they walked. When Jamie made a soft noise muffled by the scarf, Dani stole a glance at her profile.

“Does it hurt a lot?” she asked.

Jamie shook her head. Then after a pause she nodded in defeat. She groaned faintly. “Nan’s gonna kill me," she mumbled. "Again.”

"Danielle, slow down!"

Reluctantly Dani did as asked, her boots skidding to a walk. The street between Dani's house and the O'Mara residence was deep with snow. Christmas morning was crisp, the sky a blue so bright it almost hurt to look at. Her breath shivered on the air, and her mother's fingers were bright with the spot of an ember from a lit cigarette. Karen had a hastily wrapped present beneath one arm, while Dani carried the rest, so that she crinkled with foil paper and excitement with every step.

Dani reached the front door first and bounced on the balls of her feet until her mother arrived. Sighing, her mother flicked the cigarette into a bank of snow, where it hissed and vanished in a thread of smoke. Judy was the only person Dani knew who observed a strict ‘no smoking indoors’ policy. Not due to any health benefits, but because she complained that cigarette smoke stained the wallpaper yellow. The moment Karen stood beside her on the top step, Dani reached out to ring the doorbell only for her mother to stop her with a hand on Dani's cheek.

"Look at you. What a mess," her mother muttered, licking the pad of her thumb and using it to rub at a spot of syrup on Dani's cheek, all pink from the cold.

"Mom," Dani whined, but when Karen gave her a look she went quiet. Her nose scrunched up and she closed one eye until Karen deemed her suitable for company.

"I told you to wash your face before we left," Karen said. "Obviously I wasn't worth listening to."

"Sorry," Dani mumbled.

Lowering her hand, Karen made an abrupt gesture towards the door. Dani did not wait a second longer to push the doorbell. She could hear the two-toned chime inside followed by the sound of thudding footsteps, and then Eddie wrenched open the door. His face broke into a beaming smile when he saw who it was.

"You made it!"

"Merry Christmas," Dani said, returning his smile.

"Come on. Let's get these under the tree." Eddie reached out to take some of the presents, but froze when Karen cleared her throat pointedly. "Uh - I mean -" he pushed his glasses further up his nose and shuffled his feet. "Merry Christmas, Mrs. Clayton. Won't you please come inside? My mom and dad are in the kitchen making coffee."

"Thank you," said Karen and as she stepped past him into the house, she pressed the present she was carrying into his hands.

They waited awkwardly for her to take off her boots and leave them on the towel stretched out in the foyer for just that purpose. Only when she had left did Eddie turn back to Dani, "Bad morning?" he asked.

Dani shrugged. "Not really. Just normal."

"Ah.” Eddie nodded in solemn understanding, then gave her a smile. “Okay. Here let me take those." He freed her arms of presents so Dani could take off her own boots and coat and scarf. Then he shut the door with his foot and nodded towards the living room beyond. "Let's go."

Every inch of the living room had been transformed by the addition of Christmas decorations strewn about — wreaths and holly, pine cones and tinsel, a tree that scraped the ceiling and a nativity set on the mantelpiece over the crackling fireplace. Tommy and David were already bickering over a card game, while Carson looked on, whining about not being dealt a hand.

“C’mon,” he said. “I wanna play, too!”

“You can’t,” said Tommy, frowning down at his hand.

“But it’s better with more people! Why is it you two always do stuff alone!”

David drew a card and shrugged, sharing a secret grin with Tommy. “It’s a twin thing,” he said.

The moment Carson saw that Dani had entered the room however, his eyes lit up and he abandoned his older brothers.

“Hi!” he said, rushing forward. “Need help with those?”

Without waiting for an answer, he took what remained of the presents still in Dani’s hands and went with Eddie to place them under the tree with the mound of other presents already assembled there. Dani could see him looking over the presents she had brought for any sign of names, and when he found his own he tossed down the others in favor of shaking the box to determine its contents.

“Knock it off!” Eddie swatted the back of Carson’s head and took the present from him.

“Hey! That’s mine!”

Carson tried to snatch the present back, but Eddie held it high above his head where Carson couldn’t reach.

“Mom!” Carson called out towards the kitchen. “Eddie took my present!”

“Edmund, give Carson back his present!” Judy’s voice called from the other room over the murmur of adults sequestering themselves away for as long as possible before they had to face the onslaught of kids with too much sugar in their systems for ten in the morning.

Rolling his eyes, Eddie shoved the box into Carson’s chest, so that Carson grunted and had to take a step back. “Whatever,” Eddie said. “Just don’t open it before everyone else gets here.”

"Who else is coming?" Carson asked. He turned the box over a few more times and shook it, only to give up and put it beneath the tree.

"Jamie and Nan," Dani said.

"Oh! Great!" said Carson. "More presents!"

Dani glanced around towards Tommy and David, but the twins were engrossed in a way that she knew meant they wouldn't be open to intruders — especially not ones they thought were young and annoying. So, she instead said, "Monopoly?"

Eddie scratched at the side of his head, dark curls mussed beneath his fingers. "Kind of a long game to start. Don't you think?"

"Well -" said Dani, but Carson had already darted towards a wooden chest that doubled as a coffee table, opening it to pull out the Monopoly board.

"I get to be the dog!" Carson called out, yanking open the box's lid and setting up the board on the floor before the Christmas tree.

Eddie sighed, but Dani just smiled at him. She grabbed his arm and hauled him over to play a game while they waited. Dani picked the unassuming little iron token, and led the other two on a merry chase around the board. Fake paper money slowly flowed onto her side of the board, neatly tucked away in piles of descending order, whilst Eddie and Carson frowned and puzzled over how she managed it.

"You're cheating," Eddie said with narrowed eyes behind his round spectacles. "I don't know how, but you're cheating."

Dani held out her hand primly towards Carson, who was glum as he counted out bills and pressed them into her waiting palm. "I am not cheating," she said. "Carson, you've stiffed me twenty dollars."

Carson screwed up his face and stuck his tongue out at her, but handed over the final twenty that he'd slipped beneath his leg in the hopes that she wouldn't notice.

"Thank you," she said in a light sing-song tone that made Carson harrumph wordlessly in reply.

Eddie craned his neck and looked over his shoulder at the clock hanging on the wall. "Where are they?"

Dani glanced up from where she was dividing up her cash into their respective piles. An hour had come and gone, and still no sign of the others. As if summoned, there was a knock at the door.

"Thank god," Carson muttered, darting to his feet and scampering towards the door. "Game's over. Dani cheated."

"I didn't cheat!" she called after him, exasperated.

But Carson was already pulling open the door, and she could hear his voice floating into the living room from down the hall. "Hi, Jamie! Hi Mrs. Heron! You're late!"

"Don't just say that!" Eddie shouted. Then he shook his head and began helping Dani clean up the board. "Still don't know how you managed to get all those hotels."

"Maybe if you're nice to me, I'll tell you," Dani teased.

Going stock still, Eddie blinked at her.

"What?" Dani asked slowly.

The odd expression on his face washed away like yesterday's sunlight, and he shook his head with a huff of nervous laughter. “Nothing.”

Briefly puzzled, she watched him place the lid back over the box and put the game away. There was movement at the edges of her vision, and when Dani looked up it was to find Nan and Jamie removing their coats and hanging them on hooks that lined the wall by the door. Jamie was brushing snow from her long hair, brow furrowed, while her other hand was balancing gifts that were expertly wrapped, not a crease or fold out of place. The gash slicing through her chin and lower lip had healed somewhat since their last fiasco — the stitches removed — but the skin around it stretched and pulled, looking reddened and angry.

Dani waved and Jamie’s expression brightened. Jamie started towards her, only for Nan to reach out and haul her back by the scruff of her neck.

“Where do you think you’re going?” Nan said. “Shoes off. And don’t roll your eyes at me.”

With an extra exaggerated roll of her eyes for good measure, Jamie leaned over to undo her laces and rid herself of her snow-dusted boots.

Judy emerged from the kitchen. "Oh, Ruth! I'm so glad you could make it! Do you want coffee?"

Nan shook her head and began limping in her direction. "No, thank you, Judy. Just some boiled water for me should do the trick." As she went, she reached into her pocket and pulled out a ziploc bag filled with tea bags.

Judy smiled. "Sure thing. I'll stick a mug of water in the microwave for you."

Judy disappeared back into the kitchen, and Nan's expression was completely horrified. Dani watched this interaction and bit her lip to keep from laughing. Nan noticed and glowered. "Think that's funny, do you?"

Dani shook her head furiously. "No, ma'am. It's just — they don't have a kettle."

Nan sighed. "Uncivilized country." And, muttering to herself, she retreated into the kitchen after Judy to meet her fate.

Footsteps padded across the carpet and Jamie approached. "Can I put these down?" she asked, cradling a small tower of packages.

"Yeah, of course," said Eddie, darting up to help.

"Sorry we're late," Jamie said as they arranged the last of the presents beneath the tree. "Nan's fussy about wrapping. Likes everything to be perfect."

"They look really nice," Dani assured her, admiring the pristine packaging with a tilt of her head.

Jamie snorted. "Made me do that one three times. And then I had to clean up everything before we left."

"Mom!" Carson yelled, running so fast down the hall towards the kitchen that he skidded across the wooden flooring in a blur. "Mom! Everyone's here! Can we open presents now? Please?"

Jamie arched an eyebrow after him. "He always this mental during the holidays?" she asked.

"Yes," said both Dani and Eddie in unison.

"Don't see what all the fuss is about, personally."

"Well," said Eddie, drawling out the word in a thoughtful manner, "Getting new stuff is always nice."

At that, Jamie seemed a bit dubious. She scratched contemplatively at the raised pink tissue of her chin until Dani reached out to still her hand.

"You shouldn't scratch," Dani said.

Curling her fingers into a fist, Jamie dropped her own hand into her lap, looking churlish. "Yeah, yeah, I know. Still itches, though." And then her eyes skimmed over Dani’s outfit, blinking, as though now just noticing it. “Why do you look like you just jumped out of one of your mum’s catalogues?”

“Because I did,” Dani said, fighting back a sigh. “Or well, the dress did. Mom got it for me for Christmas.”

Dani glanced down at the outfit in question, a long sleeved dark green dress with a red floral pattern by the hem and a lace neckline. It was a dress that felt more suited to warmer weather, the thin material doing next to nothing to help keep Dani warm, regardless of the white tights she wore or how warm Judy kept the house. What Dani didn’t mention was that while it wasn’t a terrible dress, she’d had a completely different outfit in mind this morning, but when she had pulled out the dress from its box, her mom had held it up to the length of Dani with such a wide pleased smile and demanded that Dani wear it in a tone the brooked no room for argument.

Jamie scanned over the dress again, humming in contemplation, and shrugged. “Looks nice, actually,” she said, catching Dani’s eyes and giving her a grin.

Before Dani could respond, her cheeks warm, the kitchen door opened and the parents began to filter out into the living room. The Christmas tree sparkled, casting a warm glow against Jamie's profile as she craned her neck to watch. Dani barely registered everyone else, and when Jamie turned to find her staring, Dani smiled.

With a befuddled smile of her own, Jamie asked, "What?"

Dani shrugged. "It's just nice to have you over."

"I come over here all the time."

"Yeah, but this is different."

"If you say so."

The couches and armchairs were quickly taken up by adults, while anyone under the age of eighteen was forced to continue sitting on the floor. Nan lowered herself into a chair with care, maneuvering her cup of tea and her cane. Karen perched herself idly on the arm of the couch right beside Judy, sipping on a cup of coffee. Mike sat by his wife, looking tired but content in his Argyle patterned sweater vest and matching socks.

"All right -" Judy started.

"Me first!" Carson blurted out, diving for the nearest present with his name on it.

With a grin and a rueful shake of her head, Judy motioned towards Eddie and Dani. “Just start passing everything around, won’t you?”

Nodding, Dani and Eddie reached for the presents. Dani read out the name scrawled across the wrapping paper and handed it over to Mike, who had to lean half out of the sofa to take it with a smile and a murmured, "Thanks." Carson was already ripping the paper off of a racing kit set for toy cars, but Dani set one of her own presents aside until everyone else had one in their hands. She kept her eyes on Jamie sitting next to her, as Jamie turned over a lumpy package that Dani had wrapped just earlier that morning. The expression on Jamie's face was both odd and awed, as if she couldn't quite believe that she had received presents at all. Every now and then she would dart her eyes towards Nan like she was checking to see that she was even allowed to do this, to be here, surrounded by people who liked her enough to buy her gifts.

Dani nudged Jamie's elbow with her own. "Open it," she said.

Jamie did not immediately do so. She turned the package over once more before carefully running her thumb beneath a fold in the wrapping, tearing through a scrap of tape holding the pieces together. Dani opened the present from Jamie at the same time — which was far better wrapped than her own — and the two of them blinked at each other in startled confusion when they each revealed a scarf.

"I got you one because I ruined yours," Jamie said.

"Well, I got you one because you don't have one," said Dani.

They held each other's gazes for a beat longer, until they cracked and snorted with laughter.

"Okay," Jamie said with a grin. "We're dumb."

"Funny, though," Dani replied.

Jamie shook her head, but her smile was broad as she leaned across Dani to reach for another present beneath the tree. "Hey, Ed," she said, tossing the present towards him. "This one's for you."

Eddie caught the gift. "Thanks. I wonder what it could be," he said dryly, weighing the package that was so clearly in the shape of a baseball mitt it would be impossible to mistake.

"A cricket bat, maybe," Jamie said.

Eddie made a face at her, but when he opened the gift to reveal a brand new mitt, his voice was warm when he said, "My old one is falling apart. Thanks, Jamie."

"Thank Nan. I can't afford shit."

"Language!" Nan barked, while at the same time Judy scolded, "Jamie Taylor!"

Jamie ducked her head and grimaced, reaching for another gift and handing it off to one of the twins. "Whoops," she muttered under her breath, not sounding sorry at all.

Dani shook her head but smiled. One by one the gifts were parceled out until Judy's living room floor was a mess of shredded wrapping paper and opened boxes spilling out with packing peanuts and bubble wrap. David and Tommy fought over who got to play the Mattel Electronics Football Game first. Carson had encloistered himself in a corner nearest the fireplace and was busy setting up his racing kit set with a single-minded focus, tongue between his teeth. Dani smiled at a jar labelled 'Travel Fund' that she had received from Jamie in a rucksack that already had a US flag patch sewn onto the red canvas fabric with space left for other future flags. And all of them had received a signature sweater from Judy, which was ugly beyond compare and which made Karen's face pucker up when Dani immediately pulled it on over her dress.

"Do they have to look like that?" Karen asked.

"What?" said Judy with a guileless shrug. "They're warm!"

Sighing, Karen stood and started towards the kitchen. "I'll put on another pot of coffee."

"Ruth, do you want another cup of boiling water for your tea?" Judy asked.

Nan's answering smile looked forced. "Cheers, but I'll be right."

Most of the presents had now been opened. Mike had pulled on a new pair of socks — the same gift he received every year, but which he always seemed pleased — and Eddie was fiddling with a pair of walkie talkies, trying to figure out how they worked.

"Hey, dad?" he asked. "Do we have any batteries?"

"Garage," Mike said, and Eddie went off in search, taking the walkie talkie set with him.

"Bring back some double As for me, too!" Jamie called after him. She waved with the pocket transistor radio that she'd been given by Judy and Mike, and which hadn't left her lap since she had first opened it with wide eyes.

"Yeah, sure," answered Eddie.

Dani ducked down to reach the last of the gifts hidden beneath the low-slung branches, dragging them out into the light. "This one's for -" she tilted her head and twisted the package around. "- Jamie. From Nan."

Jamie opened the gift and rolled her eyes. "A new pair of gardening gloves," she said in a deadpan voice, holding up the leather gloves. "Joy of joys."

"Ones that fit this time," said Nan, nodding. "And if you lose this pair like you did the last, you'll be paying for the next yourself."

Jamie grumbled something under her breath.

Nan sniffed. "In my day, we were thankful if a bomb didn't drop on us during Christmas."

"Oh my god. The Blitz is over, Nan. Give it a rest," Jamie groaned, but dutifully set the gloves aside atop her transistor radio.

From the couch, Judy gestured towards one of the remaining presents with the toe of her slipper. "Danielle, there's another one there for you that you missed."

"Oh." Dani turned it over to see that it was labelled for her from the O'Maras. While she opened it, beside her Jamie began pulling on every article of clothing she had received as a gift — sweater, scarf, and garden gloves — until she was wrapped up and ready to brave the elements at the drop of a hat. Dani grinned at her, but then blinked in surprise at the box beneath the wrapping paper portraying a new polaroid camera.

"Oh, wow," she breathed.

Hastily, Dani pushed aside the wrapping paper and pulled open the box. The camera was small enough to fit in both her hands. She fiddled with it, reading the instructions so she could point the camera and squint into the eyepiece at Jamie. Through the lens, Jamie's figure was slightly distorted. Jamie turned, saw the camera aimed in her direction, and waved. Dani pressed a button down, and there was a resultant click, a flash and whir, and a square slip of film was spat out by the camera. Lowering it, she tugged at the film. Its surface was greyish, the image slowly taking hold, a silhouette as faintly visible as a specter cast in watery sunlight.

"This the last one?"

Dani's head jerked up before she could watch the image fully materialize. When she saw Jamie inspecting the final present to be unwrapped, she set the camera and the square strip of film down. "Yeah. That one's from me."

Jamie's eyebrows rose. "But you already got me something," she said. She took off the gardening gloves and tugged at the scarf wound about her neck, tossing both onto the ground.

"I wanted to get you something else, too," Dani said.

Jamie stared at her for a moment, her expression unreadable. In the background, Tommy had wrestled the handheld video game from his twin brother. Mike and Nan were chatting away about something boring and adult — war and history, perhaps. Judy had leaned back against the couch, neck craned so she could peer into the kitchen and say something to Karen, who was standing in the doorway with an unlit cigarette dangling from her mouth. Dani smiled and made a motion for Jamie to open her final gift.

Clearing her throat, Jamie began unwrapping the present, taking great pains not to rip a single section of the paper no matter how hastily wrapped in the first place. The box beneath was small, small enough to fit in Jamie's palm. Brows furrowed, she opened it and sucked in a lungful of air. The two identical necklaces entwined inside were cheap and plated, but they gleamed in the Christmas tree lights when Jamie pulled them from their box, sinuous chains pinched between thumb and forefinger.

"Why are there two?" Jamie asked.

"One for you," said Dani, reaching out and taking a necklace with a self-satisfied grin. "And one for me."

Even after Dani had put her own necklace on, Jamie remained frozen in place. The simple chain rotated slowly in place, suspended from her hand, and the half dollar piece pierced midway down the length was a match to the coin that now hung at the hollow of Dani's throat.

"Mike helped me drill the holes," Dani said proudly. "But the rest I did myself."

Jamie swallowed, her throat working, but she said nothing.

Dani frowned and said slowly, "Do you want this one instead?" She lifted the chain away from her neck with her thumb.

Jerking as if from a reverie, Jamie shook her head. "No," she said. She cleared her throat and continued, “No, I like this one. Thank you.”

“Dad, I can’t find them!” Eddie’s voice called from down the hall.

Sighing, Mike pushed himself to his feet and went off to help look for batteries. “Did you check the drawer above the tool set, bud?”

“I did!” Eddie insisted. “They’re not there!”

Jamie was tugging aside her braid so she could fasten the necklace in place beneath it. Behind her, Judy leaned forward in her seat. “Jamie, I told Mike that you were working on that old bike you found.”

Glancing up at her, Jamie gave a nod that she was listening.

“And,” Judy continued, “he said you’re welcome to bring the bike around any time to work on it over here. If you need tools or spare parts, the garage is your oyster.”

Jamie lowered her hands and the necklace was a silvery glimmer that hung down her chest, disappearing beneath the neck of her sweater. “Thanks, Mrs. O’Mara.”

“Please. Call me Judy.”

From the sidelines, Nan lifted a finger to point threateningly at Jamie and growled, “Do not do that.”

Jamie gave Judy an apologetic grin and lifted both hands, palms up, as if in surrender. Judy laughed fondly, eyes bright as she watched Jamie resettle her braid. “Honey, you have such beautiful long hair, why didn’t you leave it open today?”

Nan snorted. “Hell would have to freeze over for that girl to leave her hair down.”

Visibly fighting back a scowl, Jamie shrugged and offered Judy a weak smile. “Just gets in the way, is all.”

“Oh, you wouldn’t have to worry about that if you’d let me help,” Judy said, “We could tie some of it back and tame those curls to some lovely waves like Danielle’s hair.”

At the mention of Dani’s hair, Jamie’s eyes darted to the loose blonde waves cascading over Dani’s shoulders, and both Dani and Judy laughed when Jamie failed to hide her wince.

Meanwhile in the nearby corner, Carson threw down a piece of plastic car track in exasperation. “Jamie,” he called across the room. “Can you help me build this? It’s not working.”

“Sure. Hold up.” Seeing her chance to escape, Jamie quickly stood and wandered over to him, crouching down before the warren of track he had assembled already. “What on earth have you done?”

“I followed the instructions!” Carson whined, holding up a piece of paper.

“Why don’t I believe you?” Jamie snatched the instructions from his hand, then rolled them up to lightly smack him over the head with the pages. He spluttered and slapped her hand away.

“Look at them,” Judy said to Nan while they watched Jamie help Carson set up the toy car track. “Aren’t they cute together?”

“Bit young for that sort of thing, don’t you think?”

“Well, she did defend him from all those bullies. And afterwards, Carson spoke of nothing else. It was ‘Jamie this’ and ‘Jamie that’ for a week solid.”

Jamie overheard the adults talking. She shared a befuddled look with Dani and then mimed being sick. Beside her, Carson had gone bright red, trying and failing to pretend he hadn’t heard anything, while Dani bit back a smile.

“Gross,” Carson said under his breath.

“You can say that again,” Jamie muttered.

“Gross.”

“That’s the spirit. Now, hand me that bit of track over there. No, no, the other one.”

Dani’s gaze dropped to the picture she had taken. She picked it up from the carpet to inspect it more closely. It had finally taken form, and she smiled at the image of Jamie’s half-hidden grin behind a big scarf, her hand bulky from the gardening gloves and blurred from movement. Tucking it away for safekeeping, Dani lifted the camera into her hands once more and pointed it in Jamie and Carson’s direction for another picture.

Much later after lunch, still laughing at the way Nan had spooked Mike and the twins into action to clear the dining room table and clean up the dishes with just a single look and comment, Dani and the others had taken to testing out the limits of Eddie’s walkie talkies around the house. At the moment, she and Jamie were holed up in the upstairs bathroom with one set while Eddie and Carson were running around with the other.

“Can you hear me now? Over.” Eddie’s voice came through the speakers, tinny and muffled.

“Yeah,” Dani responded, “Where are you?”

“You’re supposed to say Over,” Eddie said, “Over.”

Jamie sighed and rolled her eyes, pulling the walkie talkie in Dani’s hand close to her mouth, pressing down on Dani’s thumb that she held over the push to talk button. “Just answer the question, you tit.”

Dani snorted as Eddie grumbled on the other side. “Hold on,” he said, and then a beat passed before he said, “We’re in the garage, how about now?”

“Loud and clear, soldier,” Jamie said dryly and let go of the walkie talkie to turn to Dani with a glint in her eyes, “Y’know, I reckon this thing could even reach beyond your house. Could you imagine putting one under his bed and being able to scare the shite out of him and he wouldn’t even know you were a block away.”

Dani laughed, but said, “That’s mean.”

“Oh, come off it. You’ve thought about it.”

In truth, Dani hadn’t. While Carson had already laid claim to one half of the set much to Eddie’s annoyance, Eddie had already quietly offered Dani to share so they’d could have conversations between their houses without Dani having to come over or hog the house phone. It was a sweet offer, and a tempting one, being able to talk to Eddie whenever she wanted, but looking at Carson’s eager expression, she couldn’t bear to take away the excitement from him.

“Nope,” Dani replied, ignoring Jamie’s dubious look, and continued, “What I am thinking about though, is if there’s any cookies left downstairs.”

Jamie’s eyes lit up just as Eddie’s voice returned. “Okay, we’re in the basement, how about now?”

Taking the walkie talkie from Dani, Jamie said, “Perfectly. Are Tweedledee and Tweedledum down there yet?”

“Yeah,” Eddie replied.

“Ask them if they’ve eaten all the biscuits yet.”

“Biscuits?”

Jamie huffed. “Cookies,” she said, then pulled her finger off the button to mutter, “Christ's sake, you Yanks.”

Snorting again, Dani gave Jamie a curious look, but Jamie just grinned at her until Eddie finally responded, “They said no, but they laughed so I’m not really sure.”

“Means they probably left the shite kind,” Jamie said, “Doesn’t matter, I’ve got a plan. Dani’s gonna run down to grab us a plate, and I’m gonna sneak out to her house to see if this thing can reach there.”

Dani’s eyes went wide.

“Roger that, over and out,” Eddie said, and then there was silence.

“Jamie,” Dani hissed, “Nan will kill you.”

The look Jamie gave her was exasperated. “You’d think she’d done it by now after everything, yeah?”

That made Dani pause, recollecting all the moments when she was sure Nan was about to pop a blood vessel, but never once did anything more beyond a light thwack on the head with her hand or on the ankle with her cane.

Seeing the realization creep onto Dani’s face, Jamie grinned. “See? Won’t take but a minute,” she said, already rushing out the bathroom door.

“Wear a jacket,” Dani called out, and in response, Jamie grinned and saluted her with two fingers before disappearing.

Sighing, Dani waited a minute to give Jamie the time to sneak out without making too big of a scene and then finally descended the stairs. When she reached the ground floor with no Jamie in sight, Dani carefully peeked into the living room to see that all of the adults were none the wiser, Christmas music playing on low as they talked and laughed, the tv playing some movie on mute. The only thing that was curious, was that her mom was missing. Shrugging, Dani ventured off to the kitchen.

True to word, there were cookies left, and just as Jamie had said, they were the kind that would always be left for last on the plate or in the tin. But cookies were cookies, so Dani began helping herself pile some on a plate for the four of them, and just as she decided that some milk would do nicely to go with it, her mother wandered into the kitchen from the back door. Her hand jerked back from the fridge door handle when her mother caught sight of her and the plate of cookies on the counter.

“Cookies? Danielle, you just had a big lunch,” Karen said, stepping closer with a near empty glass of wine in hand, her cheeks flushed pink from the cold, and smelling strong of fresh cigarette smoke.

Dani shrugged, and murmured, “We wanted snacks.”

Her mother sighed, a hand on her hip, her eyes darting over Dani’s sweater. Dani looked away, shying away from her mother’s scrutiny, her shoulders bunching up. “Are you going to wear that all day?” Karen asked. “It’s covering up your pretty dress.”

“I like it,” Dani said, chancing a glance up at her mother to see her mouth slowly twist into a displeased frown. Dani quickly added, “It’s warm, and-and it’s a little cold, so I thought — “

“Danielle, if you didn’t like the dress, all you had to do was say so,” Karen said, her voice sharp, taking another step closer.

Dani blinked up at her, taking a step back until she was pressing against the counter. “I didn’t — I didn’t say that,” Dani murmured, her hands clenched into fists. “I like it. It’s just cold.”

Gradually, the firm lines of her mother’s face cleared until she was staring down at Dani with a near unrecognizable expression. Her mother glanced down at the glass in her hand for a moment before slowly holding it out to Dani. Frowning, Dani looked down at it. Dark red wine swirled in the glass, just only a mouthful left. She had lost track by now since escaping deeper into the house with the others; she couldn’t tell if this was the third glass after the first two Dani counted her mother having during lunch, or if this was somewhere in the realm of the fourth or fifth.

Dani glanced back up to give her mother a questioning look. “Try it,” Karen said, gesturing with the glass. The wine swirled dangerously near the lip of the glass. “Just a sip.”

Hesitantly, Dani unclenched one fist and reached out to the glass, slowly taking it from her mother’s grasp. She swallowed hard, staring down at the ominous burgundy liquid, and darted her eyes back up to her mother for any sharp glint in her eyes, any tension to the corners of her mouth, any clue to see if this was some trick, some test. But her mother only breathed out a laugh and murmured, “Go on.”

Taking a second to gather her courage, Dani lifted the glass to her mouth and took a small sip, and almost immediately twisted up her face. It was bitter, settling heavy and thick on her tongue even as she swallowed it down. Her mom laughed at the expression on her face as Dani pushed the glass back in her hand, wine still remaining at the bottom.

Dani wiped her mouth as though the motion could remove the sour taste in her mouth. Her mom stepped away, still laughing and lifting a finger from the glass to point at Dani. “Consider yourself lucky,” she said, “The first drink my father ever let me try was scotch when I was nine. Now that burned.”

That made Dani pause, staring at her mom as she downed the rest of the wine with ease. It wasn’t often her mother spoke of Dani’s grandfather. “He always used to do that,” Karen said, a rueful look in her glassy eyes, “He was always such a sweet man when he was drinking, like it was the only way he knew how to show affection. But when he was sober though —” her mother chuckled, a short bitter thing “ — that was an entirely different story.”

Dani stood frozen, watching her mother swallow thickly and clear her throat, opening a cabinet to pull out a bottle of wine. An uncomfortable churning began in Dani’s stomach, though she couldn’t tell if it was from the sip of wine she tasted, or from watching her mother pour herself another glass, more than she had in previous drinks. As though sensing Dani’s discomfort, her mother stared at her, resting the bottle on the kitchen table with a heavy ominous thud.

“Don’t you start,” Karen said, her eyes suddenly and inexplicably hardened.

“Start what?” Dani asked, her eyes darting up to her mother’s, curling further into the hunch of her shoulders. She hadn’t done anything beyond stare at the wine with some measure of concern, but at the sight of mother’s face shadowed with a severe frown, Dani knew immediately that she had misstepped somewhere over the course of the day.

“You think I haven’t seen your little looks all day? Counting? Judging?”

Dani could hear it then, the slight slur to her mother’s voice. Could see it in her piercing glassy eyes. Could feel it in the way her mother stepped closer again, her shoulders tense and feet moving with purpose. The urge to run struck Dani hard in the chest, but she remained frozen, pressing back harder into the counter behind her as her mother loomed over her.

“I didn’t - I wasn’t doing anything,” Dani stuttered, her heart crashing against her ribs.

Karen scoffed. “No? So, I imagined it then. Like a fool.”

“N-no, I — “ Unable to look her mother in the eyes anymore, Dani bowed her head to stare at the ground, her feet so small compared to her mother’s stocking covered pair.

“You couldn’t give me just this one day, Danielle,” Karen said, “You know how hard Christmas can be for me.”

Dani nodded, words trapped in her throat. Her mother exhaled sharply. “You always have to do this, don’t you?” Karen said, her voice low and acrid with strained bitterness. “First with the sweater, and now this.”

The words seemed to wrap around Dani’s heart and clench painfully tight until a dull but deep ache spread across her chest, leaving her throat thick and her eyes burning. Any cheer or joy Dani had managed to revel in throughout the day seemed to slip away and vanish like a cloud of smoke.

“I’m sorry,” she finally murmured, “I won’t do it again.”

Her mother scoffed again, and just when it felt like she was about to say something else, there was a distinct tapping sound nearing the kitchen. Her mother paused, and after what felt like an eternity, Dani watched her feet step away with a sigh. All at once it felt like Dani could breathe again. She glanced up as the tapping cane came closer, and fiddled with the cookies on the plate.

“Ruth,” Karen said, her voice sounding so clear, as if nothing had just transpired, “Would you like a glass of wine?”

Dani reached for a cookie and bit into it, with nothing else to distract her from the roiling in her stomach and the thickness in her throat.

“None for me, thank you,” Nan said, stepping towards the sink, “Afraid I’ve damned myself to another cup of microwaved tea. Dani, be a dear and fetch me the milk.”

At the sound of her name — her preferred name — Dani jumped, twisting around to blink at Nan who was already busy filling her cup with water from the tap. Dani stared, frozen for a moment before jumping into action, setting down her cookie to pull out the carton of milk from the fridge without looking in her mother’s direction. After a moment of contemplation as Nan heated up her mug in the microwave, Dani helped herself and poured the glass of milk she had wanted for the cookies in the first place, a noticeable tremble in her hands.

With nothing more to do, Dani stood there staring at the glass, the room eerily silent save for the buzzing hum of the microwave, until —

“Dani,” Nan said. Jerking just slightly out of her reverie, her hands clenched into fists, her eyes darted to Nan who was watching her steadily, soft around the edges and so unfamiliar that Dani could do nothing but blink. Nan gestured her head towards the kitchen entrance, and murmured, “They’re all waiting for you downstairs, love.”

Dani nodded, biting her lip hard at the unrelenting feeling of her mother’s piercing gaze on her back. She picked up the plate and glass of milk and slowly made her way out of the room, her head ducked. In between the moments of taking her leave from the kitchen and gradually making her way down the stairs towards the basement, Dani’s heart settled and she managed to push down the lump in her throat, but the ache in her chest remained.

When she reached downstairs, the room packed with mismatched furniture and a tv in the corner that was surrounded by the boys arguing over which program or movie to watch, there was Jamie, laughing brightly with her cheeks flushed red and her hair cluttered in a starburst of melting snow. But when Jamie turned, catching her eyes, instead of a smile Dani expected, victorious from her quick jaunt outside, Jamie frowned and started towards her.

“You all right?” Jamie asked, her eyes darting between Dani’s.

Dani nodded, her mouth pulling into a smile. “Yeah, of course,” she said, and held up the plate for Jamie to see, “These cookies just really suck.”

Jamie glanced down at the plate before returning her gaze to Dani, arching a disbelieving eyebrow.

“Seriously, I think there’s raisins in them,” Dani added. Pulling her mouth into a thin line, Jamie took the plate and glass from her hand to set them on a nearby table. Dani frowned. “Hey, wha — “

“C’mon,” Jamie said, grabbing her hand and pulling her back towards the stairs. “I want to show you something.”

Dani’s stomach twisted. “Jamie — “

“S’alright,” Jamie said, turning to grin at her, her eyes soft. “You’ll like it, I promise.”

Slowly, Dani’s mouth shut, Jamie’s cold hand squeezing her own in a careful grip. Dani couldn’t help but match Jamie’s grin and follow her back up the stairs, the pull of her hand insistent but gentle as she guided Dani up to the second floor towards a window on the landing that overlooked the backyard.

“C’mon, take a look,” Jamie said, leaning against the windowsill with a smile over her shoulder at Dani, their hands still clasped.

Shooting Jamie a puzzled grin, Dani stood next to her to look out the window, and felt her breath catch in her chest. Outside, flurries of white gently floated down from the sky in a dance to unheard music.

“Pretty, right?” Jamie asked, her voice unusually soft. Dani nodded, her eyes wide as she stared up at the sky, the sound of Christmas music muffled through the floor. And then, Jamie carefully said, “Dunno why it seemed like you just went through the ringer in the minute I was outside, but I felt like this could cheer you up a bit.”

Dani squeezed the hand in her own, feeling the ghost of the pressure returned. “It did,” Dani said softly, “Thanks.”

“No problem,” Jamie murmured, and then added, “You wanna come over soon? Escape your mum for a bit? We could eat leftovers ‘til we’re sick and make Nan watch White Christmas again? She may actually try to kill us this time, but worth the risk.”

Dani laughed, feeling an inexplicable lightness to her shoulders and chest, the aching pressure gone. Dani turned to catch Jamie’s eyes, only to see that Jamie was already staring at her with a pleased grin. “Yeah, I’d love to,” Dani said, her smile wide, and Jamie’s hand warm in her own.

The first thing Jamie said when she opened the door was, "You've got to help me."

Dani blinked in surprise. She stood, dumb-struck, on Jamie's front step with an overnight bag slung over her shoulder. Night was already swiftly descending even though it was only six in the evening. Behind her headlights like a pair of eyes flashed through the gloom against the windows as her mother's car pulled away from the curb, where moments before Dani had hopped out and trotted up to Jamie's house without a backward glance. Dani glanced down to where Jamie's fist was clenched around a pair of kitchen scissors, spotted with rust.

"What -?" she asked, and had barely enough time to toe off her snow-struck shoes before Jamie was grabbing her by the wrist and hauling her inside, shutting the door with a kick of her socked foot.

"Shh! Keep it down!" Jamie hissed.

Her head whipped around to see if anyone had heard them, but the living room was empty and there were no tell-tale sounds of the tap of a walking stick down the hall or in the kitchen. Her hair was uncharacteristically down, Dani noticed. Long and auburn-dark as autumn leaves, curled from all its time spent coiled up in a braid.

"Okay," Jamie whispered, "We're clear. Follow me."

Dani made an abortive noise in the back of her throat, but tamped it down as Jamie tightened her hold on her hand. They scurried through the house like thieves. Jamie led them on a circuitous route around the furniture, as though stalking a beast through the jungle. The tops of their heads peeped out over the cushions of a green couch with a lacy throw draped across its back like delicate snow. With a final dart down the hall, their footsteps muffled by the carpet bearing tea stains and cigarette burns — tea stains from Jamie, cigarette burns from the previous owner — they made it to the spare half bathroom, which had no shower. Jamie locked the door behind them with careful precision, so that the sound was only the lightest of clicks against the brass knob.

"What's happening?" Dani asked, voice hushed in the dark.

Jamie only flicked on the light when she had grabbed a towel from the rack and pressed it up against the bottom of the door to keep as much light from leaking out as possible. Then, she rounded on Dani and held up the scissors. "I need you to cut my hair."

"Is that it?" Dani asked, straightening her spine.

Jamie made a motion for Dani to keep her voice down. "She'll hear you!"

Rolling her eyes, Dani nevertheless gamely kept her voice to a low murmur, "Why doesn't Nan just take you to the hairdresser in town?"

"She did! Look!" Jamie pointed at her own hair, which admittedly did look to be an inch or so shorter than when Dani had seen her last.

"What's wrong with it?"

"Everything!" Jamie hissed. "I wanted it all off, but Nan said no! And the barber refused to take the money I tried to give her when Nan wasn’t looking! Fucking coward.”

"And you want me to do it instead?" Dani asked. "So I can face Nan's wrath? No way!"

"She won't hurt a child!" Jamie said. Then after a moment, she added, "Much. Anyway, she likes you. Way more than she likes me."

"Now, that's not true."

"Inn'it though?" Jamie said, narrowing her eyes and nodding as though they both knew the answer to that rhetorical question.

"It's not!" Dani insisted.

Through the door, they could hear a distant cough. Both of them froze, deer in the headlights, trapped in a looming, luminous stare. There followed a shuffling as if of someone shifting their weight atop bed springs, and the papery turning of a page. When it became clear that Nan wasn't coming to investigate, they both breathed a sigh of relief.

"If you're not going to help me, then I'll just do it myself," said Jamie, already grabbing hold of her own hair and lifting the scissors.

With a groan, Dani dropped her overnight bag to the peeling linoleum floor. She held out her hand. "Give me the scissors."

"Oh, hell yes," Jamie breathed.

Scissors in hand, Dani directed Jamie to sit atop the scarred wooden toilet seat. Jamie eagerly complied, facing away from her so that Dani could have easy access. For a moment Dani hesitated. She reached out and touched Jamie's long hair, combing her fingers through the wild tangle of dark untamable curls. It was, she realised with an odd thread of excitement weaving a warm path through her chest, the first time she had ever touched Jamie's hair like this. When she dragged her fingernails lightly along Jamie's scalp, Jamie's shoulders relaxed and she swayed back into Dani's hand with a soft sound.

Dani withdrew her hand as though scalded. "Sorry," she mumbled.

"S'alright," Jamie said without turning around. "Feels nice. You can touch my hair."

"Yeah?"

Now, Jamie did turn her head, angled just enough so that Dani could see her roll her eyes. "How else are you supposed to cut it? Christ. You are thick sometimes."

Dani flicked the back of her head as revenge. Jamie flinched from the contact, but Dani could hear her laugh quietly, could catch a glimpse of her smile.

"Go on, then," Jamie said, squaring her shoulders once more as though readying herself for a march into battle. "Do it."

Carefully, taking her time so that Jamie could back out if she wanted, Dani pulled around as much of her hair as she could so that it draped down Jamie's back. "You're going to owe me big time for this," Dani muttered as she worked.

"Name the price."

"I want the good pillow tonight," Dani said. Jamie's bedroom was small and cramped and there were no other spare rooms in the house, so every time Dani stayed over it always ended up with the two of them crammed together on Jamie's narrow mattress, where one of them — usually Dani — was inevitably stuck with a lumpy pillow from the couch.

"Done," Jamie agreed without a hint of hesitation.

“All right,” Dani said. She steadied herself with a deep breath and placed the flat of the closed scissor blade against Jamie’s shoulder. “Here?”

“Shorter.”

Dani dragged the scissors up a few inches higher. “Here?”

“Shorter.”

Swallowing down her nerves, Dani lifted the scissors so that they hovered over the back of Jamie’s neck just below the base of her skull. “Here?”

Jamie nodded, her head bumping gently against the scissors. “Yeah. Perfect.”

“All right,” Dani repeated. She opened the scissors and held them in place so that a good portion of Jamie’s long hair was folded across the sharp edges of the blades. Still, she did not cut. Her pulse thundered in her ears.

“Hurry up,” Jamie said and she cast a furtive glance towards the door. “She could come any second.”

And, taking her life into her own hands, Dani squeezed the scissors shut. The first section of Jamie’s hair fell away like a curtain with a single clean snip. As if watching herself perform the deed from out of her own body with a kind of dull horror, Dani continued along — two more great big cuts in a horizontal line — until Jamie’s curls brushed the back of her neck and no further.

“Is that -?” Dani lowered the scissors. “Is that what you wanted?”

One of Jamie’s hands reached up and she felt at her own hair with a silent wonder.

“Jamie,” Dani breathed nervously. “Please, tell me that it’s all right.”

There was no mirror in this bathroom. Indeed, the only mirror in the whole house was a small rectangle of reflective glass in the bathroom with only a shower over a bath adjoining Nan’s room further down the hall. And there wasn’t a snowball’s chance in hell they would be braving that tonight.

Jamie turned around so that she sat facing Dani, and she beamed up at her. “Perfect,” Jamie said. “Absolutely bloody perfect.”

The creak of bed springs, and the tap of a cane, and both of their eyes widened.

“Shit,” Jamie hissed, leaping off the toilet so she could lift the lid and begin shoving hair into the bowl. “Help me hide the evidence!”

“Hide the evidence?” Dani repeated incredulously. “You think she’s not going to notice?”

Even so, Dani scrambled to help, while they continued whispering and hissing at one another like a pair of angry geese. Except Jamie was wearing the biggest smile on her face, one Dani could not hope but mirror, and biting her lip as they tried to stifle their giggles and flush the toilet quickly enough.

There was a knock on the door, and Nan’s suspicious voice from the other side, “What are you two up to this time?”

Stuffing the pair of scissors under her sweater even though the door hadn’t opened, Dani straightened, Jamie’s shoulder and elbow jostling her own, and they both chorused in unison, “Nothing!”

#thobm #the haunting of bly manor #damie #dani clayton #jamie taylor #dani/jamie #roman writes #I hate tagging on tumblr #cfau #bring home a haunting

25 notes · View notes