#because escaping with their friends for their life from a music festival her husband were murdered in the car they were in. she saw him die | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

valdomarx · 4 years ago

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“Geralt. My dearest friend. My closest companion. Light of my life, fire of my-”

Geralt narrows his eyes. “What do you want, Jaskier?”

“Seeing as how I’ve made you famous, and I flatter myself that this has eased you path somewhat, why, this very inn not only took us in but even offered us a discounted rate-”

“What do you want, Jaskier?” Testier this time.

“Ahh. Well. Let me put it plainly: I’m in need of a favour.”

Geralt raises one eyebrow, in an expression he knows speaks volumes.

“I need you to come with me to Lettenhove this winter and pose as my fiancé.”

Geralt nearly drops the sword he’s sharpening. A million thoughts whip through his mind, but one is most pressing: “Why, for Melitele’s sake?”

Jaskier waves a hand in a vague and non-descriptive gesture. “It’s a court thing, you know how families are, and my mother has made it abundantly clear that it’s time for me to settle down and this year I’m to return affianced or else she’ll select someone for me. And I can’t get hitched to some local lady, Geralt, I simply can’t, it’ll ruin my bardic appeal, not to mention my employment prospects, and of course I won’t be able to travel with you, and it’s-”

Geralt holds up a hand to ward off the wall of words. The idea of no longer travelling with Jaskier is unconscionable, not that he’d ever admit that out loud. And they spend so much time together they’re practically married anyway. How hard could it be to pretend for a few days?

“Fine,” he says gruffly.

“Oh, Geralt, you are wonderful.” Jaskier beams and throws his arms around Geralt’s neck. Geralt growls, but secretly, it’s actually rather nice.

“Mother, this is Geralt, my fiancé.”

Cold, clear eyes look him up and down, assessing him, and pinch into an expression suggesting he has been found wanting. Geralt decides against opening his mouth and further cementing that opinion.

“A witcher.” Her voice has the familiar twang of Jaskier’s, but with the flat, expressionless cadence he associates with the higher echelons of the aristocracy.

“A witcher!” Jaskier confirms in a cheery tone. “Isn’t that exciting?”

She sniffs in a manner which makes it clear that exciting would not be her first choice of word. “I see. He will be joining us for this year’s Yuletide?”

“He will.”

Her face draws back into the impassive mask of the well-bred. “Very well. You will stay in the east wing.”

“Thank you, mother.” Jaskier executes a stiff bow which Geralt copies and they beat a hasty retreat.

“That went rather well!”

Geralt blinks. “Jaskier, I’m fairly sure your mother means to have me killed in my sleep.”

“Oh, don’t mind her. She’s always like that. She’s actually softened up a lot since dear old dad died, gods rest the grumpy bastard.”

Geralt struggles to imagine how such staid, cold people could possibly have produced a son as bright and warm as Jaskier. They might as well be a different species.

Jaskier pushes open a door to a grand suite, all plush velvets and gold ornamentation, a thick woven rug underfoot. It’s the most opulent room Geralt has ever seen, but Jaskier pays it no mind and throws his bag casually on the bed.

“We’ll have to stay here together,” he says apologetically, not looking Geralt in the eye. “But the bed is plenty big, or I can sleep on the sofa if you’d rather -”

Geralt is still taking it all in: The space, the furnishings, the frankly enormous bed which looks divinely comfortable. And there, through the next room, that looks like-

“Is that a copper bathtub?” he asks, eyes wide. Such luxuries were a rarity indeed.

Jaskier grinned. “It is. Let me get some food sent up and I’ll wash your hair?”

Geralt grumbles, just for the effect, and decides that putting up with tedious aristocracy might have its benefits after all.

Yule festivities in Lettenhove are, mercifully, a mere matter of days. First there is the fitting for formal attire, which Geralt scowls through but Jaskier promises will be made up for with plenty of good food and wine. Then there are several deeply tedious aristocratic parties, which Jaskier sails through and Geralt spends mostly hiding in dark corners, as is his wont.

Occasionally, Jaskier will grab him by the hand and introduce him as, “Geralt, my husband-to-be,” and something funny will flip over in his stomach which will require several drinks to settle. When he returns to his dark corner he’ll find his heart pumping a little faster as his eyes track Jaskier flitting around the room. It’s probably just indigestion from all the rich food.

Then there is the formal family Yuletide dinner, a spectacularly awkward and singly unpleasant evening spent around a long, cold table with Jaskier’s mother and various cousins, who regard Geralt with expressions ranging from bland disinterest to active hostility. The food is heavy beyond measure and the conversation cruel and bland by turns.

They cover the need for raising taxes, the many failings of the servant class, and the petty squabbles over jewels and titles that seems to be the bread and butter of these people. With each hateful line, Geralt feels his blood rising. If it weren’t for Jaskier making pleading eyes at him, he’d take great pleasure in explaining some hard truths to them.

When a cousin begins expounding on useless lazy peasants in the estate, complaining that they can’t work because of plague, but we all know they’re simply idle, Geralt grits his teeth so hard that he swears the sound must be audible.

Beneath the table, Jaskier takes his hand and gives it a gentle squeeze. Staring down at their joined hands, Geralt detaches from these awful people and their awful conversation and focuses on the simple warmth of Jaskier’s fingers intertwined with his own.

They make their escape from dinner as soon as can be considered polite, and Geralt takes a second to lean against the door to their room, breathing deeply.

“You did well not to throttle anyone,” Jaskier says with a reassuring smile. “If we’d had to listen to cousin Edrick for a minute longer, I might have launched over the table with a carving knife myself.”

Geralt reaches for him without thinking, and once again Jaskier’s hand slips into his own. It’s grounding, to feel something genuine in this place surrounded by artifice.

“Come on,” Jaskier says. “Let’s get out of here.”

Geralt doesn’t even ask where they’re going before nodding.

They sneak away from the estate out of the servants’ door and follow a winding path toward a cluster of lights in the valley below. The path into Lettenhove town is quiet and calm, and as they walk the snow begins to fall in soft flurries, covering the ground in a peaceful white blanket.

The town looks picture perfect when they arrive, a charming jumble of thatched cottages and a small, cosy inn from which bright light spills out into the snowy night. When they enter the barmaid runs over to hug Jaskier and the proprietor slaps him on the back, and Jaskier has a kind word and a waved greeting for every person in there.

Geralt feels something unwind in his chest, something he hadn’t realised was tight and twisted until now. Seeing Jaskier in his element, among people who love him for who he is, instead of among that cold, hateful family, he feels right in a way he hasn’t for days.

Jaskier is already buying drinks and passing them around, and he excitedly waves Geralt over. “Bree, Geoffrey,” he addresses the couple behind the bar, “This is Geralt.” A shy smile sneaks over his face. “My fiancé.” The couple gasp in delight and congratulate Jaskier, then they’re embracing Geralt like old friends and pushing a drink into his hands.

“Come on, Geralt, join us!” Bree smiles warmly. “It’ll be the ten o’clock bells soon, and we must have Jaskier lead us in a song.”

The evening is a whirl of music and dance and loud, terrible singing, which the entire town seems to join in. For once there is no corner for Geralt to hide in, so he stays by Jaskier’s side, basking in the reflected glow of these people’s clear adoration of his bard.

When the midnight bell chimes and Geoffrey turns them all out for the night, the revelers wend their way home still singing and drinking. As the place empties out, Jaskier slides over to Bree to press a kiss to her cheek and a bulging purse into her hand. She tries to wave him off but Jaskier tucks the money behind the counter all the same, and Geralt watches, a deep wave of fondness sweeping through him.

The snow is still falling when they step out into the now-quiet street, soft, fat flakes drifting lazily from the sky and sticking in Jaskier’s hair. His cheeks are flushed pink and his hair falls in an messy sweep over his eyes; without thinking Geralt reaches out to brush it away behind his ear. Jaskier’s blush deepens as he does so, but he shivers in the cold.

“Here.” Geralt unclasps the thick cloak from around his neck and sweeps it over Jaskier’s shoulders. Jaskier’s mouth forms a little o of surprise and he looks up at Geralt, something tender in his eyes.

Geralt’s gaze is caught by the snow flakes settling on Jaskier’s lashes; he’s so focused that he almost jumps when Jaskier reaches out to take his hand. The sky seems to glow with a soft orange light as the clouds reflect the last few fires in the town below; everything is warm with Jaskier’s hand in his despite the chill in the air.

“Thank you,” Jaskier says softly. “For being here with me.” And leaning in, his breath caressing over Geralt’s face, he touches his lips to Geralt’s cheek in a ghost of a kiss.

Suddenly it occurs to Geralt that this will be it, tomorrow they’ll head back on the path like none of this ever happened, no more holding hands or being close, no more being introduced as Jaskier’s betrothed. And despite the hellish parts of this experience he really doesn’t want it to end. He likes being Jaskier’s person, and he likes Jaskier being his.

They are still standing close together, mere inches between them, and it’s no effort at all to lean in, slowly, cautiously, to find Jaskier’s lips with his own, to place a tentative kiss there. And then Jaskier’s hands are fisting in his shirt and tugging him closer still, and his arms go around his waist and Jaskier is kissing him back like he’s been waiting for it, their mouths slotting together like they were made to fit each other, and everything is blazingly bright like the white of the snow.

When they pull apart they stay with foreheads pressed together, breathing the same air, and Geralt can see a smile cracking wide over Jaskier’s face.

“I like being engaged to you,” Geralt says quietly, unable to keep it in.

Jaskier’s smile widens even further. “I like being engaged to you too,” he says. He kisses him again. “Fiancé.” Another kiss. “Husband to be.” And another. “Partner.” One more. “Beloved.”

“I like the sound of those.” He suspects he may be wearing the same dopey grin as Jaskier is.

“Then let’s make it official.” Jaskier bites his lip. “Marry me?”

Jaskier is a picture of perfection, eyes gleaming and cheeks ruddy, snowflakes in his hair. Geralt’s heart has always been right here.

“I’d be honoured.” He considers for a second. “But not in Lettenhove.”

Jaskier’s laugh sparkles with joy. “Anywhere but here.”

#PLEASE ENJOY THIS HOLIDAY ROMCOM NONSENSE #i am feeling festive and also sappy #geraskier #the witcher #my writing

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loki-hargreeves · 4 years ago

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Klaus Hargreeves x Reader - Kidnapped

Warnings: kidnapping, mentions of torture, blood, vulgar language, angst, hurt/comfort Word Count: 7,8K Summary: Instead of Klaus getting kidnapped by Hazel and Cha-Cha, they kidnap you. Klaus wants to find you before it’s too late. Author’s Note: I started writing this at 4 AM so keep that in mind. Anyway, I hope you like it! :)

YOUR POV

“I’ll ask you one more time, and you better answer me, because I am getting sick and tired of your games!” The masked woman yelled at you, which she and her partner had done for hours now. Their questions were ringing in your head and you were exhausted, which almost made you forget about just how terrified you felt.

“Where’s Five?” She asked you again. How many times she had done so, you weren’t sure. You had lost count after the first ten or so attempts.

Tears ran down your face as you sat there, tied down to a chair. There was a piece of tape on your mouth and it barely stuck to your skin at this point. It had been torn off a few times so the glue had dried, just like the blood on your skin.

Her partner, the man walked over to you and removed the tape, which meant you had to answer them. Shivers ran down your spine as you tried to think, think, think! If you told them anything at all, that could put Klaus and his family in danger. It was the last thing you wanted to happen. You were afraid that they would kill you soon if they didn’t get what they wanted.

“Spit it out, we don’t have all day!” The man was impatient. He wasn’t as aggressive as the woman, but terrifying nonetheless. Their masks were creepy and you knew that if you’d survive, you’d see them in your nightmares. You remembered that he was the reason you were there in the first place. The sight of him made you angry, but you didn’t express it.

“I p-promise you, I don’t know,” You whimpered quietly, afraid your answer would disappoint them and they would torture you again. They had waterboarded you earlier which had been the worst part so far. Although it felt like they were pushing you over the edge soon, you were impressed with yourself. It had been hours now and they had barely learned anything at all.

To your surprise, you didn’t get injured, at least not yet. The lady stood up straight and sighed, giving her partner a look of disappointment - you could tell, even without seeing her face.

“Bathroom, now!” She tilted her head toward the small bathroom in the motel room. Relief washed over your body when you watched them disappear from your sight. Even if it was for a moment, it meant they wouldn’t torment you.

How long had you been there?

It felt like days by now since you had been at the umbrella academy, although it had only been several hours. You had just been there with Klaus. Usually, you would have been at your apartment, but he had been at the academy with his family after their father’s death. You had been there for him through it all, which had come to no one’s surprise.

Klaus had been bathing as you had fallen asleep in his childhood bedroom. The next thing you knew, you were woken up by gunshots which had scared you. Before you had managed to escape, the man had found you. You had tried to fight him, but he was stronger and more experienced in combat. When he had grabbed you by your neck to choke you unconscious, you thought you had seen your last days. But oh how wrong you were.

They had taken you to a motel as a hostage. Why? They must’ve thought you were part of Klaus' family. You were just there for Klaus, you didn’t know anything about Five’s mysterious return or what he was up to. Not that you’d let them know. Otherwise, they wouldn’t have had a reason to keep you alive.

As they were in the bathroom, you tried to free yourself from the chair. They had tied your arms and legs down tightly and by now you could hardly feel your fingertips. No matter how hard you pulled and tugged your limbs, it didn’t do much. You were stuck and you felt hopeless. What were you supposed to do? If you yelled for help, they would certainly shoot you. They kept guns on them at all times which you had noticed.

Tears of frustration washed down your face. To keep quiet, you bit your lips together and tasted blood which made you sick to your stomach.

Were the others alright?

Was Klaus okay?

You knew that your disappearance must’ve been hard for him. He had been struggling for a while now and this wouldn’t help either of you at all. The stress must’ve been a heavy burden on his shoulders. Oh, if only you could be in his arms instead of that torturous hell you were in for now.

After another miserable attempt of freeing yourself and failing, you felt like screaming but it took every ounce of strength you had to not do that. If you wanted to survive, you had to stay focused and strong. When you felt like giving up, you only thought of Klaus and remembered what you were fighting for.

Eventually, you heard their footsteps and soon enough, the two of them were standing beside you again. You were surprised to see them without their masks. It made everything so much more real. They were people too and they were capable of hurting you and others in monstrous ways. What did they want to do with Five? You weren’t sure if you wanted the answer to that. It couldn’t be good.

As the lady stayed with you, you noticed that the man was rummaging through your stuff. You had been wearing a jacket when he found you in the hallway. After you heard the gunshots at the academy, you had tried to find Klaus and escape. You had only grabbed your jacket when you left his room. Now the man was going through your things and you wondered if he'd find anything useful.

“What were you doing with those freaks?” She changed the way she approached you. Although it was a harmless question, it worried you.

“I was visiting my friend,” You explained, giving away as little information as possible. It was hard to keep eye contact with her, but looking away would’ve made you seem like a liar, so you forced yourself to face her.

“A friend?” The man seemed doubtful. He returned to you with your wallet, holding it open to show a picture of you and Klaus that you kept in it. Seeing it made your heart swell with both affection and pain.

“Last time I checked, friends didn’t look so cosy around each other,” He glanced at the photo again. You had taken it a few years previously when you and Klaus had been to a music festival. You both had silly makeup on and you were kissing his cheek in the picture. You looked happy.

The woman glanced at it as well and after a while, she smiled. “Is he your boyfriend? Husband?”

“Does it matter?” You didn’t want to talk about Klaus. The less they knew about him, the better.

“It seems like he matters a lot to you,” She stated the obvious. By now, she could tell you were afraid of them finding out about him. But she wasn’t dumb. She already knew Klaus was important to you and she couldn’t wait to use that against you. It was all fun and games for them.

“Who is he to Five?”

The words got stuck in your throat. Suddenly, you felt just as troubled as you did a few moments ago. They were onto something and you didn’t know what to do.

“Answer me!” She snapped, making you flinch.

“Okay!” You quickly stated something to avoid further disappointing them. “He’s...he’s Five’s brother.”

“Ah,” She seemed pleased to hear that. She and her partner shared another silent look, almost like they spoke to each other with facial expressions alone. “So you’re sleeping around with Five’s brother?”

You couldn’t imagine how that was relevant to them. You didn’t feel the need to answer her.

The man grabbed your jacket and tried to find anything else from your pockets. He didn’t seem too interested in the photo anymore. The way he was acting was strange. It felt like he didn’t even want to be there, not really.

“Okay, okay,” She was thinking out loud. “What has Five been up to? You’re obviously aware of who he is so don’t play stupid with us again.”

You remembered when you heard of Five’s return. For as long as you had known Klaus, Five hadn’t been in the picture. All that you knew was that he was missing. Klaus had told you about the day it happened and how life had been afterwards.

When you learned that Five had returned, you were shocked. It was even more shocking to see him like that. He still looked like a kid! If you hadn’t been with Klaus and around the others for so long, it would’ve surely been harder to believe.

“Hello? Don’t make me break your fingers!”

You didn’t hesitate for a second that she wasn't joking around with that statement.

“I don’t know! He showed up a few days ago and he hasn’t spoken much to anyone since,” You were honest. Five had been busy ever since he returned. It was odd, but you didn’t feel like you were in a position to question his actions. After all, you barely knew him.

“Why is that?” The man had given up searching for clues in your jacket. Now he was right by his partner’s side and it worried you.

“He’s working on something but he won’t talk about it.”

“Elaborate," He demanded, making a gesture with his hand for you to keep talking.

For a moment, you tried to think. What had he been up to? You remembered how Five had needed Klaus’ help with tracking the owner of a glass eye. You had waited in the car as they were inside the lab. When they came out of there, you were so surprised to see the blood and glass on Klaus’ face that you didn’t even think about anything else that had happened. Now, a few days later, you realized it had been quite strange. What did a glass eye have to do with anything at all?

Your thoughts were interrupted when the man tilted your chair backwards, making it feel like you were about to fall. It startled you and broke your train of thoughts.

“What is he working on?” He demanded to know.

“I don’t know!” You cried now, feeling how hard your heart was beating. It felt like it was going to jump right out of your chest any moment now.

“Do you think her boyfriend is chattier than she is?” The woman turned to her partner.

They couldn’t be serious! You felt doomed when you realized that they could target Klaus next. There was no way you could let them hurt him like they were hurting you.

Although it made you feel rotten deep to your core, you decided to aid them. “Please...don’t drag him into this!”

The man put the chair down so you weren’t at risk of hitting the floor any time soon. It was a small relief that didn’t make you feel better, not really. You were about to do something you knew you’d regret.

“If you want to keep him safe, you gotta talk to us,” She explained how simple it was. It was gross to you how casually they dealing with all of this monstrosity.

Every inch of your body felt cold. You were trembling by now and you weren’t sure if it was the exhaustion of the pure terror you felt that caused it. Everything hurt and you hated yourself for being in a situation where you had to protect Klaus by giving those sick people clues as to where Five was.

“Five was looking for the owner of a glass eye,” You finally told them something. It felt like your blood turned to ice as you finished that sentence. “Last time I heard of him, he was parked in front of the lab that manufactured the fake eyes.”

The confusion on their faces didn’t surprise you. You too remember how bewildered you were when Five first mentioned the glass eye.

“A glass eye?” The man had to make sure he heard right. All you could do was nod, confirming it.

“What’s so special about a glass eye?” She inquired furthermore.

At first, you didn’t know what to say. Then all of a sudden it clicked in your mind. Five had mentioned something about the apocalypse, but you thought it was nonsense. He said that they lost their chance of saving people, and a bunch of other things which didn’t make any sense at all.

“I’m not sure, but he made it seem like the fate of the world depended on it,” You didn’t think it meant anything so you felt like sharing that information. To your horror, that seemed to make more sense to them that it did to you. It looked like a light bulb lit above the woman's head.

“Five, that son of a bitch!”

You worried that you had said something wrong. They no longer were interested in you, as they finally had a lead. You just hoped ever so dearly that Five wasn’t there anymore.

The man grabbed a new piece of tape and put it over your lips. You didn’t even try to fight it anymore. Then he grabbed the chair and started dragging you after him to the closet. “We’ll be right back,” He promised you, but you hoped it wouldn’t be true. Although being held there against your will was appalling, it wasn’t that bad when you were by yourself. At least, they couldn’t hurt you when you were alone. Just like that, he closed the doors and left you all alone in the dark. Your only company were your lonely thoughts.

They left and you were scared that you had just sent those lunatics right to Five. It made you feel so guilty like you had swallowed battery acid and it was bubbling in your stomach painfully. If miracles were real, you wished that one would happen now.

What if they’d find Five? Would they hurt him?

Of course, they would! They had been torturing you for hours just to they could find Five. Whatever they were going to do to him wasn’t going to be pretty. If they would find him, you weren’t sure if you’d ever be able to forgive yourself. Now all you could do was think about worst-case scenarios.

Please be okay, you thought about all of them. As long as they would be unharmed, you’d be happy.

Klaus couldn’t remember when he had last felt so sick and anxious. Knowing that the people who had stormed into the academy and given everyone a hard time possibly had you captured was like a living nightmare for him. Klaus couldn’t believe that they had been attacked and he had hardly noticed it - until it was too late.

He hadn’t been able to sleep or let alone sit still for a second after you disappeared. Luckily, his siblings were there to help in, in their own special ways. They knew that the intruders were looking for Five, so Diego and Luther knew they had to find Five first. Not only did they want to find you, but they also wanted to protect Five from those people.

After what had felt like forever, they had found Five. He was drunk to the point of passing out, sitting in the library with that mannequin. It was a miracle they had found him at all.

Now they were taking him to Diego’s place where hopefully Five would sober up enough to help them. Dealing with his drunken brother was frustrating.

“I need you to sober up, Five!” Klaus tried to reach him, but Five looked cosy in Luther’s arms, holding onto the mannequin for dear life. Klaus was almost envious of the state Five was in, so drunk that nothing else really mattered.

“Funny you’d say that,” Five laughed nonchalantly. He didn’t seem to know what was at stake. Or perhaps he just didn't care.

“Hey I’m serious, Five! Your friends came looking for you-”

“Hazel and Cha-Cha?” Five didn’t sound too worried about it. “Of course they did.”

Luther was curious to learn their names, “How do you know them?”

Klaus couldn’t imagine how that mattered at that moment. He was impatient and the worry made him act before he could think, “They have Y/N!”

Five opened his eyes just enough to look at the dirty mannequin. “Did you hear that, Dolores?”

Was he serious? That little shit! Before Klaus would lose himself, he heard Ben’s voice, “Don’t fight him, that’s a waste of time.”

It was almost like Ben could read Klaus’ thoughts. Although he wanted to yell his frustration out at the top of his lungs or drown his worries away with something stronger than water, he couldn’t.

“Yeah but he better sober up quick,” For once, he agreed with Ben. If he wanted to find you, he couldn’t fight the only person who possibly knew where you were.

Nonetheless, it felt impossible to stay calm and collected. Every second that passed made him feel worse. Klaus didn’t want to let his mind go too far. He knew you were alive. You had to be.

They made it inside Diego’s place. As far as they were aware, no one had seen them enter. They felt somewhat safe since no one else knew about their location. The last place they wanted to be at was the academy. They couldn’t risk running into Hazel and Cha-Cha when Five was so...out of it.

Five was still sleepy, but the reality weighed in on him. He had mumbled something about Hazel and Cha-Cha earlier, and Klaus assumed they were the people who had taken you.

“It would be really helpful if you started talking, you know?” Klaus felt worse the longer they just sat there. His arms were crossed in front of his chest and he was bounding his leg nervously. His body was craving a relief, but he wasn't going to get high when he had to focus on finding you. He wondered what these people wanted in the first place. What could be so important that they’d attack them and take a hostage?

Five hung his head low as he sat on the bed, feeling nauseous. But of course, before he could answer, they were interrupted. Someone was approaching the door, and Diego shushed everyone and grabbed a knife. Had Hazel and Cha-Cha found them?

Klaus stood and watched, hoping that it would be you although the odds were slim. When he heard an old man’s voice, he was greatly disappointed. It felt like he was doused in ice-cold water when he had expected something warm.

“You throw another one of those goddamn knives at me, I'm pressin' charges!” The man yelled at Diego. If Klaus hadn’t been so worried, he would’ve found it amusing.

“What do you want, Al?” Diego lowered his weapon. He didn’t sound too excited.

Klaus listened halfheartedly. He didn’t care about whoever this Al was. All he could think about was getting some answers out of Five as soon as he possibly could. Klaus wished that Hazel and Cha-Cha had taken him instead of you. Oh, what he’d do to be in your shoes now.

“I ain't your secretary.”

“Yeah-”

Their conversation was a big blur by now. Klaus leaned against the wall tiredly, but he didn’t want to accept how exhausted he was. “They have Y/N, you know,” He reminded Five. Sure, he mentioned it earlier, several times, but Five had been so drunk that he had probably not even registered it.

“As sad as it is for you, Klaus, it doesn’t really matter,” Five explained coldly.

What?

Even Luther seemed shocked by that, but he didn’t make a comment. He watched Klaus and wondered if he would buck heads with Five soon. Things weren’t looking too good between them right now.

Klaus couldn’t believe what he was hearing.

“Why would you say that?” He barely got the words out of his mouth. Frankly, he felt offended for her sake that Five didn’t think her life mattered.

Five faced Klaus and narrowed his eyes, “Because we’re all gonna die in a few days anyway! We can’t try to save your girlfriend when everyone is at risk! We don’t have time for that.”

Klaus was speechless for once. He just watched as Five rubbed his temples, trying to chase his headache away. He had mentioned the end of the world before, but Klaus didn’t think too much of it. Five had been missing for years and now he was saying a bunch of absurdity. Had it been true all along?

“Klaus!” Diego interrupted them.

“Yes?” Klaus turned around abruptly, struggling to focus on his brothers. They were always nagging and fighting, but now that he was so stressed, it was agitating.They were getting on his nerves by now. Why didn’t they care about you? Was the world actually ending? Klaus wondered if he should’ve spent the day with Allison and Vanya instead. Would they have found you by now?

“Let’s go,” Diego already made his way to the door. Usually, Diego avoided Klaus at all costs when he was leaving. This was an unexpected change of events.

Klaus didn’t hesitate as he followed Diego, completely ignoring Luther who offered to stay behind and accompany Five, “Wait! Wait, where are we going?”

“I think I know where she is,” Diego explained seriously.

Those words were like music to Klaus’ ears. A glimmer of hope sparked in his heart and he almost lost his breath. Finally, some good news!

“Wait...how?” Klaus was struggling to find the right words. The idea of finding you left him astonished.

“Patch has been looking into these lunatics, Hazel and Cha-Cha. She called me about a location and said she found someone,” Diego was convinced it was you. Who else would it be?

“Holy shit,” Klaus replied in disbelief, feeling a knot in his stomach. "You're not joking, right?" He didn’t want to be convinced it was you only to not find you in the end. Could she really have found you?

“Well, Patch told Al she found someone’s girlfriend and I don't know who else it could be,” Diego explained right as he opened the car door.

Although it wasn’t certain, Klaus felt oddly hopeful. Quickly, he climbed into the car as well so they wouldn’t waste more time. The entire ordeal with Five had been just a mess and waste of time, or so it seemed like.

Klaus knew that life often found a way to say ‘fuck you’, no matter how good things seemed. So for now, Klaus just tried to stay calm and told himself to expect the worst. They still didn’t know what condition they would find you in and he wasn’t sure if he wanted to think too much about it.

“Hey,” Ben had followed them, which wasn’t a surprise. “She’ll be fine,” He sounded oddly optimistic. He was certain that you had been found. Everything would be much better once you and Klaus would be reunited yet again.

“I sure hope so,” Klaus sighed nervously. He didn’t know what he’d do if anything bad happened to you.

You couldn’t believe your luck when the door opened and you saw a familiar face. Eudora had found you! How? You didn’t know but it wasn’t the time to ask. Tears of joy stung your eyes when she released you from the bonds that had kept you there for so long. The blood flowed back into your fingers felt amazing, although it caused a tingly sensation.

She ordered you to hide as she made her way further inside the crappy motel room. As quietly as you could, you did as told. She pointed the gun toward the end of the room as you crawled on the floor. The ventilation system caught your eye. It wasn’t even closed properly because one of your captors had hidden something in there.

Once you opened it, you saw a briefcase. It was odd that they’d hide it, so you assumed that it was important or valuable. You grabbed it to take it out of your way and that’s when you heard a loud gunshot which hurt your ears. Your heart leapt to your throat and you looked behind you, seeing the woman with a smoking gun by the door. She walked further inside and to your horror, you saw Eudora’s body on the floor. She had been shot right in the back!

You almost screamed out in shock and pain, but you managed to drown it. Tears escaped your eyes, rolling down your face uncontrollably. They had shot her as she was saving you.

No, no, no

This was bad

Were they going to kill you too?

Adrenaline was the only thing keeping you going. You knew you had to run if you wanted to survive. Although it physically pained you to leave her behind, you didn’t think you had much of a choice if you wanted to live. The door was wide open and you bolted for it. Seconds later, they were after you.

“Stop!” The man yelled at you and you heard his footsteps coming closer and closer. Why didn’t he shoot you?

You held onto the briefcase tighter as you ran down the stairs, almost falling over because you were so dizzy. Thankfully, the railing kept you from flying to the ground. At the bottom of the stairs, you heard another gunshot. A bullet hit the ground right next to your feet which made you jump, startled by the loud noise. It had missed you, so you assumed it had been a warning shot.

They stood at the top of the stairs and they both had guns aimed at you. The sight of them and their weapons made you freeze on the spot in fear. Was this it?

“Drop the briefcase!” The guy wanted it back.

Quickly thinking, you decided to use it as a shield. It was the only thing keeping them from shooting you. What was so precious about it that they couldn’t risk losing it?

“If I drop it, you’ll just shoot me!” You weren’t a fool. There had to be another way out of this.

Standing there made you feel like a deer in headlights. The other motel residents had heard the gunshots but no one was opening doors, which was good for them. The blinds were drawn shut so they could either hide or continue with their lives as if nothing unusual was going on. Had someone called for help?

You wondered how Eudora was holding up. You were afraid the bullet wound had been fatal. The thought of her dying in there, alone, was breaking your heart.

“Fuck it,” The woman knew they couldn’t stand there and wait. They needed to get on the move, but they also needed the briefcase. She narrowed her eyes and tried to get a good aim at you. You didn’t doubt she’d find it. After all, the briefcase could only shield you so much.

“Drop it or I’ll shoot!” She gave you one last warning. The gun was loaded and her finger was on the trigger, ready to pull it any moment now.

What you did next was risky, but you panicked. You threw the briefcase in the other direction as hard as you could and then ran, disappearing behind the cars in the parking lot. She shot at you, but you assumed she must’ve missed. They ran after the briefcase that was making bizarre sounds and you had your chance to escape.

You lowered your body on the cold, hard ground and crawled behind a car, sitting in front of the back tires so they couldn’t see you from underneath it.

It was dark outside and only half of the streetlights were functioning, you that kept you somewhat hidden. As you sat there with your back leaning against the car, you noticed that your body was trembling. You were terrified that they would find you and hunt you down like an animal. After everything you had been through, you didn’t want it to end like this. You thought about Klaus and felt like sobbing, but you had to force yourself to be quiet. Finally, the reality of everything was beginning to hit you. It was so hard to believe you had gone through that agony and you were still alive.

A car engine roared further away and you just had to look. The woman was behind the wheel, but the man was nowhere to be seen. Something was burning on the ground further away. It looked like the briefcase. How had it set on fire?

The sound of a gun being loaded startled you. You tilted your head to your side and saw the man standing right in front of you. He was going to shoot you. You could’ve sworn that your heart skipped a beat at the sight of him, so close with a gun in his hand and you were staring into the barrel hole. There was barely a meter of distance between you two.

“Please…” A silent pledge was the only thing you could say. The fear had paralyzed your body.

He held onto the gun tighter and clenched his jaw. Why did he look so troubled?

Suddenly, he aimed the gun a little further away from you and pulled the trigger. Once again, the loud bang hurt your ears. Your arms quickly tried to cover your body in self-defense. For a moment, you wondered if he had shot you, but you didn't feel any pain. You blinked a few times and then stared at the spot on the ground he had shot. It confused you.

“Don’t move until we’re gone,” He demanded quietly and glanced at his partner who was waiting for him in the car. Then just like that, he walked away in a hurry.

You sat there in shock and disbelief. He had an opportunity to kill you, but he hadn’t. Why did he spare your life?

Once you heard them driving away from the motel, you felt so relieved. With trembling hands, you covered your face so you could muffle your cries of both joy and horror. Everything felt so surreal and you were overwhelmed with emotions.

But what mattered was that you were alive.

Then you remembered Eudora, who was still in the motel room. Immediately, you felt guilt building up in your heart. Sure, she had been working, but she had been shot as she was saving you. Now that the two kidnappers were gone, you felt safe enough to consider returning to Eudora. She needed your help because so far, it seemed like no one else was coming for her.

As you stood up again, you felt a sharp pain in your leg which made you draw in a sharp breath. You leaned against the car once more and then looked down, only to see fresh blood all over your lower leg, oozing out of a wound you didn’t notice until now. Even in the dark, you could make out how crimson red it was. The bullet had scraped your leg and now it stung like hell. It could’ve been worse, but it didn't make it any less horrific. Why did it hurt so bad once you had seen it?

In a state of shock, you forced yourself up on your feet, using the car for support. You didn’t care that your blood got smeared over the fine polish. You were more worried about the stairs you had to walk up if you wanted to reach Eudora.

Another car drove up to the scene, and for a moment you feared that they had returned. Without hesitating, you lowered yourself on the ground and hid behind the car as well as you could. Why did they come back? Did the man change his mind about you?

You heard two sets of footprints and they were running. That’s when you dared to peek at them from the side of the car. The sight of the people was almost too good to be true. You saw Klaus and Diego rushing to the stairs together. It didn’t matter how and why they were there. The only thing that mattered was that your kidnappers hadn’t returned and now you could see that Klaus was alright.

“Klaus!” You called out his name as tears washed down your face. Knowing that he was alright made you so happy.

Klaus heard your voice and he turned around quickly, letting Diego continue whatever it was that he was doing. At first, Klaus didn’t see you and he wondered if he had started hearing things. But then he saw you crawling into sight from behind a car.

“Holy shit,” Klaus couldn’t believe his eyes. Seeing you alive was like a dream come true, but his joy was short-lived. He saw your injuries and the blood trail you left behind you as you tried to stand up. Quickly, he made his way to you before you’d fall and get hurt even more.

“Oh god, please be okay,” Klaus wished dearly that you weren’t hurt too bad. The world around him was spinning and it felt like everything was caving in. By the looks of it, he believed you'd be alright.

Once Klaus reached you, you more or less threw yourself into his arms, needing to be close to him. Klaus hugged you tightly and finally, he let out a breath he had been holding in. His hand cradled your back and eventually the back of your neck, pulling you closer to him. You were very much real and it made him feel ever so relieved.

Klaus grabbed your face gently just so he could see you properly. Immediately, he noticed the tears that had mixed with dry blood on your cheeks and the bruises that had formed, which broke his heart. Klaus couldn’t wrap his mind around the fact that someone was capable of harming someone as precious as you. It was so wicked.

“I’m so sorry.”

“No,” You couldn’t let him blame himself for what had happened, “I’m okay, I’m okay Klaus,” You reassured him. Sure, you had suffered from injuries and the events would haunt you for a long time, but it could've been worse. You were alive, but you weren’t so sure about Eudora.

Klaus quickly searched you for more wounds. “Are you okay?”

You nodded, since it was hard to find your words. It was truly a miracle that you were in his arms again.

“I was so worried,” He admitted to you, nearly choking on his tears. He still felt as if he was on edge. The danger was far from over but at least he had you. Tears of relief escaped his emerald eyes and he didn’t care that you could see he was crying.

He was just so relieved to hold you again. The moment was emotional for both of you. For a moment, he almost forgot about everything else. But of course, no bliss could last too long. Sirens wailed in the background and they were coming closer at an alarming rate. Klaus looked ahead in the distance and saw the blue lights nearing them.

“We...we gotta go!” Diego’s broken voice caught their attention. He had blood on his hands and tears in his eyes that threatened to spill any moment now. He looked miserable, to say the least.

“What about-” Klaus wondered, but he was cut off.

“She’s gone,” Diego didn’t want to waste any more time. He knew that if they stayed there for a second too long, they would look like suspects. Besides, they had no time to waste with the police when they had to stop the apocalypse - which was coming, according to Five. As much as it shattered Diego’s heart, he knew he couldn’t stay there. You all had to leave the scene.

With their help, you got into the car. Klaus joined you in the backseat and Diego drove off.

Being alone with Klaus after everything that had happened felt surreal. Everything was on repeat on your mind, like a broken record, as you sat in Diego’s bathroom in silence. Diego, Luther and Five were arguing on the other side of the wall, but you paid little attention to it. You had overheard them mentioning the masked people’s names. You knew now that Hazel and Cha-Cha were the ones responsible for everything.

You sat on the closed toilet seat as Klaus was washing your wounds. He was holding a wet towel that he used to wash your face with ever so gently. When he dabbed it against your bruised cheek, you tried not to react. It didn’t hurt too much, it just stung against the cuts.

Klaus couldn’t stop picturing how this had happened. With every blink of his eyes, he saw them hurting you and it made him so nauseated and furious. You didn’t deserve to be hurt, and for what? Just because you happened to be around his family. Klaus was considering leaving you so nothing like this could happen again, but there was no way he would have the strength to do that now. When he looked at you, he felt his heart aching madly. Why did loving someone have to hurt so much?

Neither of you knew what to say. It was rare that you and Klaus were both at a loss of words. At that moment, speaking was just too hard. You were afraid that one word would break you and push you into a breakdown.

He had washed your leg wound which had stung madly, but after the pain you had endured in the past day or so, it wasn’t too bad.

Now he had to stitch it up, which was going to hurt. Klaus was trying to get the thread in the eye of the needle, but his hands were trembling so much that he couldn’t get it through. After several failed attempts, he grew frustrated and then dropped the needle and thread on the floor.

“Hey,” You noticed that he wasn’t doing too good. Seeing him like that made you feel awful and all you wanted was to hold him. Since your wounds were clean now and the bleeding had stopped, there wasn’t a rush to stitch it up. Carefully, you slid off the seat and sat down on the bathroom floor with him. He couldn’t look you in the eye.

“I thought...I thought I’d lost you,” Klaus admitted. When he saw the mess Hazel and Cha-Cha had caused, and how they had put up a struggle against his siblings, he had immediately wanted to find you. Klaus had searched the entire place without stopping for a moment, desperately trying to find you hidden somewhere. When he had to accept the fact you weren’t there, it had been devastating.

You grabbed his trembling hands into your own. His were warmer than yours and it felt good to just hold him. Gently, you brought his knuckles to your lips and kissed his skin tenderly.

“You didn’t lose me, Klaus,” You reassured him, “I’m right here.”

Only you seemed to know how to make him feel better. Klaus nodded and tried to focus on the present. He wanted to cherish the fact that you were safe from harm for now.

Klaus scooted over so he was now sitting right next to you, which allowed you to lean against his body. The moment he wrapped his long arms around you, it felt like your body just collapsed. All the fear, the pain and exhaustion finally took a toll on you and you felt incapable of moving away from him. As much as it had scarred you, you were so glad to be alive and in Klaus’ arms. His oh-so-familiar scent filled your lungs, which made it all so much more true. You were safe. You were really there, right by Klaus' side where you were the happiest.

You held onto Klaus a little tighter, afraid that he’d vanish into thin air and you’d open your eyes, only to wake up in the motel room again. The thought alone was enough to make you feel unwell.

“They wanted to hurt you,” You whispered as you remembered their threat. Hazel and Cha-Cha were still out there and you were scared they would hunt you down again. They were still looking for Five, right?

Klaus was puzzled as he heard that. “Me? Why?”

“They found a picture of us,” You recalled. That’s when the guilt you felt doubled. Not only had you put Klaus and his family in danger, but you felt like you had led Eudora to her death. “They said that if I didn’t tell them where Five was, they would get the answers from you.”

“That wouldn’t have been your fault,” Klaus could tell how you were feeling. He had known you long enough to tell. “Besides, if they had found me, I would’ve given them a taste of their own medicine,” He attempted to make you feel better. You could only imagine what he meant by that and you had to admit that Klaus would’ve found a way to get under their skin. But the idea of him getting hurt because of you was too painful. You tried to avoid the thoughts of what-ifs and all that.

“What if they find us again?” You wondered quietly.

“I’m sure Five has a plan or something,” Klaus tried to sound confident. Five seemed to be several steps ahead of them, but then again terrible things had already happened.

Klaus was drawing small patterns on your skin, being careful not to hurt you. He was yet to see the true extent of the torture they had put you through, but he would soon. He'd have to stitch your wound before you could take a bath together. Usually, Klaus loved bathing with you because you could be so close with one another. It was quite domestic and fun when you were in a good mood. But this time, the thought was dreadful. He wondered how many bruises were hiding under your bloody clothes.

Right now, he just wanted to comfort you which in return helped him unwind. He too couldn’t help but wonder if Hazel and Cha-Cha would find everyone, but he wasn’t going to feed that fear and make you worry about it.

You just needed to stay calm and possibly get some rest. There wasn’t too much you could do about Hazel and Cha-Cha at that point anyway, especially not in your current state.

After a while, you felt like dozing off against him, but you knew you couldn’t sleep on Diego’s bathroom floor. Or could you? Did it matter?

You closed your eyes and tried to listen to what they were talking about in the other room. By the sounds of it, Diego had left. You could only hear Luther and Five talking. Was Diego trying to find the people who had killed Eudora?

“Poor Diego,” You opened your eyes so you didn’t have to remember the gruesome sight of Patch’s body on the dirty carpet floor. You couldn’t believe she was gone.

Klaus didn’t know what to say, but he agreed with you. He felt bad for Diego and the detective. What had been so important that Hazel and Cha-Cha had done all of these things?

A knock on the bathroom door surprised you. You tried to hide your face by hugging Klaus a little tighter as Five walked in. You didn’t want him to see you like that.

“Oh hey,” Klaus didn’t sound too enthusiastic about being interrupted.

“How are you?” Five sounded genuinely concerned. He stood there with his hands in his pockets and he took in the sight of you and Klaus being huddled together on the floor. He saw the needle and thread on the floor as well, not too far away from you, and assumed things hadn't gone quite as planned in there.

Klaus sighed deeply. He remembered what Five had said earlier about how little you mattered. “So now you care about her, huh?”

“Yes, Klaus!” Five stated like it was obvious, “I never said I didn’t. My priorities are just different than yours right now.”

“Yeah, I’ve heard,” Klaus felt a headache forming as he thought about the alleged apocalypse that was coming. He had almost lost you once, so the idea of losing you in just a few days was awful. Why was life so cruel?

You were beyond exhausted at that point, but their conversation caught your curiosity. Quickly, you wiped your cold tears away and looked at Five from the safety of Klaus’ embrace.

“I’m okay,” You didn’t want to complain. After all, you could be dead by now so you tried so hard to focus on the positives. “Why were they looking for you?” You wanted to know.

Five didn’t look too happy about that. “I wasn’t kidding about the end of the world,” He told you with a straight face. “They probably want to kill me so I can’t stop it.”

“Why would they want to end the world?” Klaus asked what you were thinking.

“It’s a long story,” Five had just told Luther everything. He was going to tell Klaus more about it eventually but now wasn’t the time. “Y/N, did you happen to see briefcases with Hazel and Cha-Cha?”

“Yeah, why?” You were a little bit confused and tired. Had they stolen something from Five?

“Would you happen to know where these briefcases are?” Five knew that they should carry them with them at all times, but he had overheard Hazel complaining about his wrist hurting and that he didn’t feel like carrying it everywhere. Even if there was a tiny chance that Hazel kept it locked somewhere, Five wanted to find out.

“No, they took them with them when they drove off,” You explained shortly. “I think one of them broke.”

“It broke?!”

“I threw it away and it made weird noises and then later I saw it burning,” You explained what you remembered. When it had hit the ground, it almost sounded like a toaster had exploded, but then again you had heard a gunshot as well that had been quite distracting. The briefcase hadn’t interested you too much when you were running away in the other direction, scared for your life.

Five seemed frustrated, but he tried not to take it out on anyone. “Well whatever, it was worth a shot,” And just like that, he walked away, shutting the door behind him. Had you done something wrong?

A few seconds passed before Klaus broke the silence, “Don’t care about him. He’s just...well he’s just being his usual Five self. Who knows what he’s up to.”

You tried to seek comfort in his words. Frankly, you felt too exhausted to care too much about the briefcase.

A yawn was drawn from your lips which didn’t go unnoticed by Klaus. Neither Klaus nor you could stay awake for much longer. It had been a long day and you needed sleep, whether you liked it or not.

“Tired?” He asked, which was a foolish question. He already knew the answer.

“A little bit,” You admitted.

Klaus wondered if it was safe for you to return to the academy. Last time you two had been there, Hazel and Cha-Cha had attacked the place and kidnapped you. Then he thought of your apartment, which wasn’t too far away. Would it be any safer?

“Do you think Diego will mind if we crash on his bed for a while?” Klaus thought of the easiest option. Diego had left and if he knew his brother at all, he wasn’t coming back in a while either.

There was only one way to find out.

A/N: Why is it so hard to end one-shots? Anyway, if you made it so far, I would love to hear your feedback! Thanks for reading 💚

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moonlights-inkwell · 4 years ago

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I’m Weak, My Love (And I am Wanting)

Jaskier x Reader

Word Count: 5,525

Summary: After a night of drinking, you dance with a stranger. Jaskier is jealous. Jealous enough to do something extreme

A/N: Two Fics in one day? Who is she? I have no idea.

This fic is dumb and super unbeta’d but oh well, sorry for any bad writing and junk. I’ve mentioned Jaskier being jealous before and wanted to write something to go with it.

Title from Her Sweet Kiss.

Warnings: Public Sex, slight degradation, Reader is drunk, Jaskier is insecure.

You feel the eyes on you before you even really understand what they are, hairs on the back of your neck standing up on end. It’s distracting as all hell.

“Fuck!”

The word comes out loud and slurred as you stumble over your own feet mid-dance. You’re drunk, or if not drunk then tipsy enough to know that you soon will be- the feeling is more than welcome. Working, fighting as you have been, it leaves little time these sorts of festivities, the kind that reminds you of home. The rush from guzzling down tankard after tankard of sickly-sweet apple cider is unrivalled in its ability to make you feel girlish and giddy. And so, you’re dancing. Or were, as it may be, before you tripped.

Your compatriots don’t join you, but you rather expected that before abandoning the table. Geralt seldom allows himself to indulge in such luxuries- like smiling, or engaging in pleasantries, so you assume that dancing is far beyond his capabilities. He doesn’t even tap his foot when Jaskier performs catchy, often bawdy songs, in his honour, so this music, pretty but lacking in lyric or any type of familiarity is unlikely to rouse him to his feet. Besides, crowds are hardly something the White-haired man enjoys, standing out like a sore thumb amidst all of the mundane people of the village you’re staying in.

Jaskier, however, Jaskier staying at the table is a little odder. The bard adores crowds, feeds off of the energy that a group of people exudes and is able to talk to anyone, a trait you find intriguing and intimidating in equal measure, but he's sat. The tavern has a band of bards, all playing in unison to form something overwhelming and beautiful, so there is no chance for him to perform, to wink and sashay about while strumming his lute and lapping up attention. That had rather taken the wind out of his sails when he realised, souring his mood to a point where he isn’t even trying to dance with you. It had been upsetting at first, how he had essentially ignored you in favour of scowling and fingering the frets of his lute like the strings will make the other musicians disappear.

Ever since meeting the bard, you’ve thought him beautiful. Not beautiful, beautiful isn’t quite the right word. He's amazing. The kind of person for whom a natural sort of charm radiates from them, who would be attractive from personality alone, even if he wasn’t one of the most attractive men you have ever laid eyes upon. Ever since the two of you began... whatever it is the two of you have been doing, he's done his part to act as if you’re the only person in tge world to him, but right now? He only has eyes for the band. The coin that he could have earned would have been a godsend, but you don’t care about that right now, all you want is to dance with the bard. He's just. Sat there, scowling and sitting instead if dancing with you.

It’s such a simple thing to bring so much pleasure; dancing, especially when coupled with somewhere to do it, and this tavern certainly feels like an appropriate place for it. It’s heaving, overrun with people you assume must b locals, all laughing and chattering like they haven’t a care in the world. Perhaps they don’t, their only troubles coming in the form of what ale to drink and who they should dance with. You envy them that. Truly, you can’t remember a single one of your concerns from before you packed up and abandoned your life go travel with a wandering Witcher and his Bard. Logically, you know you must have had them, but not a single one is important enough to linger in your mind. Any domestic issue pales in comparison to fighting beasts, arguments about corsets and how near you may go to the woods forgotten in lieu of how best to fell a Wyvern or exactly where to hit any man who means to do you harm. It’s selfish to envy these people their lives when you know that you wouldn’t trade the life you have chosen for all the gold in the world. Mid-stumble, you catch yourself, and stand upright once more, bringing your tankard to your mouth and draining it before moving to place it on a table, only to fall over your feet once more, flinching for fear of impact with the ground. But it never comes, instead a pair of arms wind about your waist and tug you up to the body of one of the boys who had been dancing around you. He’s a pretty thing, a mop of blonde curls hanging about wide green eyes that stare at you like you’re a prize that’s fallen into his lap, and you grin up at him gratefully. It takes less than a second for him to tug you closer still and begin another dance, hand on your waist and the other gripping your hand; it’s nice, nice to feel wanted, even if it’s only for a night, a dance- there are worse ways to spend a night than hanging off the arm of some pretty stranger. Serves as a nice distraction from the bard as well. Well, it would be nice, if not for the feeling that you’re being watched, that has you craning your head to see who it is that is staring. Then, your eyes meet a gaze all too familiar.

Jaskier.

His eyes are narrowed into slits, brows knitted together and mouth downturns in a look that you don’t recognise on his face, but know all too well. A scowl. Jaskier doesn’t scowl, that’s a look used by Geralt or yourself, but right now he's scowling at you, glaring daggers into you and gripping the neck of his lute so tightly it looks as if it might break.

“Something wrong, Pretty Lady?” The blond asks playfully, making you turn your gaze away from the glowering man across the room to meet the eyes looking down at you.

“Oh. No. No, I just. Thought someone was looking at me.”

“The man in the red?” He asks, looking straight at Jaskier before chuckling, spinning you about and causing you to fall against his chest once more. “I don’t think he likes me very much.”

“What?” You ask incredulously, eyebrow raising. It's such a weird thing for him to say about a complete stranger, and you can’t really understand what he means. Jaskier is scowling, yes, but you assume it’s because you’re able to enjoy yourself while he cannot perform.

“He looks like he might murder me.” The boy tilts his head and leans his head in, mere centimetres from your face in such a way that has you thinking that he might kiss you. “Your husband?”

His question flusters you, only serving to make your cheeks flush bright red and a nervous laugh to escape your lips. Jaskier? A Husband? The idea of him being wed is so alien, even when applied to you. You spend too many nights with him curled about you, but you aren’t even courting, never mind being anywhere close to marriage.

“No!” You say the word a little too forcefully, and your dancing partner grins. “We're traveling partners, he is not my husband.” You don’t know what you are. You kiss, settle in his arms like it’s where you belong, spend far too many nights with him bucking up into you and swallowing down your moans, but you aren’t courting. He isn’t your gentleman caller. Your lover, yes, your friend, always, but you have no clue how to articulate that to this stranger, and so don't.

“The look on his face has me thinking he might wish to be more than traveling partners, Pretty Lady.” He says teasingly, lips brushing against your own with each word. You are more than that, but the alcohol has you tongue tied. You want to kiss this stranger. Well, that’s not entirely true, you want to be dancing with Jaskier and to drag him down into a kiss, to lean in and close the gaps between your lips, but you'll settle for trying to forget the man behind you who cares far more about music than spending time with you. He seems to have the same thought as you seeing as he kisses you suddenly.

Its soft, sweet, but... felt like nothing. It’s just skin on skin, no different from how his hand on yours feels, and you can’t help but feel disappointed. You’ve only ever kissed one man before, never felt a need or want to either, only ever really wanted a bard who is too tied up in himself currently to kiss you, but every kiss with Jaskier is a world stilling experience, the sort people write songs and poetry about and this feels like absolutely nothing at all. No sudden surge of desire, no need to fling your arms about him, no want for anything at all. It’s deeply disappointing to say the least; like something inside of you is broken, or at least dampened by the alcohol raging through your system. The man kissing you, however, seems to feel something if the quiet moan he lets out is anything to go by, and pulls you closer, but you remain still. You can’t bring yourself to kiss him back, so instead just stand there stock still. Well, stood stock still until you feel a hand firmly grasp your wrist and tug. Hard. The pull sends you stumbling blindly backward, barely able to realise what is going on when you see Jaskier pushing the blond man backwards.

“Get your bloody hands off of her!” He says, words dripping with poison, audible above the music. The people dancing around you stop their movements and stare at what is going on, at the Bard standing in front of you like a guard dog.

Your dancing partner opens his mouth to argue while surging toward Jaskier who clenches his fists into balls, but stops when you quickly say Jaskier's name. This is the closest you have ever seen him to a fight, watching hands that daily cradle a lute clenched to punch someone is so unnatural.

It’s embarrassing, to say the least, to be gawked at by such strangers and turned into a spectacle, and so you reach out to the bard, hand brushing against his back.

“Jask-” You begin, and he turns to you quickly, eyes initially full of anger, but softening slightly when they meet your own; his hand flies out once more and grabs your arm, painfully tight.

“Come on, Little Miss,” He says coldly, walking towards the door to the pub and dragging you along behind him. You drag along behind him, and hear the music start up once more, making you scowl at the prospect of missing out on dancing. There goes the chance at nostalgic bliss you had been enjoying. You’re in the street before you really know what is going on, and Jaskier curses under his breath into the darkness of the evening.

“Shit. Where is the fucking inn...?” He mutters, craning his head about to try and get his barings once more. This isn’t where you recall entering, and assume that you must have left through a side entrance, you’re in some side alley, not the main street. The iron grip on your arm is growing painful and you try to pull it free, Jaskier's grip doesn’t falter. The air is uncomfortably cold, especially against your warm cheeks, and standing like this is doing little to warm you.

He’s trying to work out where you go from here, and you’re wondering the exact same thing; just not about how to get back to the inn. He’s gripping you like he wants to bruise you, wants to leave his mark on you and you don’t know what there is you can say to make his jaw unclench or his hands soften. There are no words. Though you aren’t courting, it’s been quite implicit between the two of you that whatever it is you have, it’s exclusive; he and you are not to be... toying about with other people. You don’t flirt with men hoping for free drinks or cheaper rooms anymore, Jaskier doesn’t bed or even flirt with other women, and between the two of you? You fell at the first hurdle, he has remained loyal to whatever this is, and you let some stranger kiss you. Famous flirt and serial seducer, Jaskier, has not tried to romance anyone but you but with a little ale in you and the high of dancing rushing through you, you let a stranger kiss you; not just kiss you, but kiss you in front of Jaskier. There’s nothing you can say that will change that.

“I’m weak, my love, and I am Wanting.” The lyrics come from your mouth unconsciously. You don’t sing, it’s not something that comes readily to you, but with the ale and discomfort around you, it’s a that you can think to do. Singing is Jaskier's skill, and while drunk you can hardly carry a tune, but you simply need to fill the silence and a song will do. His song too. It feels like an insult, but he turns to you with a smile- all teeth and gums. Like a wolf, a beast, and it’s exciting. Jaskier doesn’t look like a beast, he’s all sweetness and light but given what he’s seen, you suppose it makes sense. You blink slowly at him, and feel him tug you toward him once more, body making contact with his chest and driving all of the air from your lungs.

“What the bloody hell was that all about?” You ask, a little more harshly than you expected it to come out. “I was having a good time-”

“A good time? Is that what you call letting a little toad like him near you?” He seethes, towering over you in such a way as to make sure you must look up at him. You feel like a child being chided, not someone talking to a man who had until this night been seen as your equal.

“We were only dancing, Jaskier. I fail to see how he was taking advantage of me by dancing. You and Geralt were hardly going to stop your brooding and be my partner.” You try to argue, but your words come out stilted and unnatural. Arguing with him isn’t natural: Geralt you can argue with until blue in the face, everything said is forgotten within an hour or so, but Jaskier? He remembers everything, pulls it out at a second’s notice and is a wordsmith. He knows how to build up or tear someone down with nothing more than his words, and well at that. Your argument is childish and nonsensical too- acting as if you were only dancing is an obvious lie. You know what happened, he knows what happened. You cannot deny what he's seen with his own eyes and to try is to insult his intelligence.

He pushes you, and the rough brick of the inn presses into your back, rough and painful enough to warrant a noise of complaint, which dies on your tongue when Jaskier's hands bracket you in place. You let out a gasp, from the sharp pain of the bricks and the fact that he's pushed you and is so near. With him so close, you can smell ale on his breath that you hadn’t seen him drink. Is that your breath? The proximity of your lover so close combined with the alcohol has your head spinning in a way that makes you worry you might just sink to your knees. He looks beautiful. He always does, but somehow, now with chestnut locks falling into his eyes and glaring at you in a manner that is just on the right side of feral, he has your knees shaking. You've never been attracted to dangerous men, but in this moment, with him having all but punched a man over you, you understand how so many women can fall over themselves for men like Geralt.

“You weren’t just dancing, were you, Little Miss?” He growls, leaning in until his face is but a centimetre away from your own. “You let him kiss you.”

“He kissed me.” You attempt to correct him before realising you've basically said the exact same thing he did. Jaskier growls at that, and slams his mouth into yours. It hurts a little, his kiss pushing your head back into the hard wall, mouth working harshly against your own and tongue prying its way into your mouth, world’s away from his usual way of kissing- all sweetness and light replaced by something darker. Almost possessive. You try to move your hands up to grip the satin front of his doublet only to have them pinned to the wall at either side of your chest. His lips leave your own to move down to the column of your throat, not quite kissing but more nipping at the skin.

“You let him kiss you.” He says darkly against the skin, warm breath fanning against cold skin to make you shiver.

“I didn’t kiss him-"

“You didn’t stop him either.” The words are almost a snarl, and your heart all but stills in your chest.

“I didn’t know how! And I didn’t kiss him back, Jaskier, we both know I wouldn't...”

“I don’t believe in sharing.” Funny statement. He’s made a name for himself by bedding married women, but the woman he isn’t courting being kissed is somehow a punishable offence? What’s the difference, you ask yourself, while his lips ghost across your neck, how is some man kissing you any different from what he used to do? Teeth graze sensitive skin and you bite back a moan when a thought enters your mind. Those women weren’t his. They were another man's wife, not someone he shares a bed with, spends his days beside. He hasn’t ever needed to concern himself with the aftermath of adultery, save for running from nobles- never been jealous of who looks at a woman that he cares for.

At once, everything falls into place. All night makes so much more sense, how he had tried to keep a grip on your hand as you slipped from his grasp to the bar, never to return as you joined the fold to dance, the constant watching, the scowling at your dancing partner. No sign of his usual animated chatter, no annoying Geralt, just watching. Unending watching. He wasn’t angry about the other musicians. No, no, it was something completely different all together.

“Are. Are you jealous?” You stammer out which only makes the Bard growl and all but bite your neck, sucking on the skin in such a way that has you certain that there will be a bruise there in the morning. A strange concept indeed. Jaskier is all lover and no fighter, so the thought of him bruising your skin even through kisses is something else.

“Am I jealous of some ugly prick?” He raises an eyebrow and slowly raises to his full height once more, his knee slotting between your thighs and grinding oh so slowly against your sex. “No. What I am, is fucking angry. That some bastard is touching My Little Miss, that you would let him-"

“Y-Yours?” You stammer out as the meat oh his thigh rubs against your clitoris.

“I spend my days singing to you.” He nips at your neck. “My evenings holding you.” He laps at the bite with the flat of his tongue. “My nights fucking you.” His hands release your wrists, one moving up to grope your chest while the other moves down to tug your skirts up past your waist and slides into your undergarments to press the tips of his fingers to your sensitive pearl, letting out a ghost of a laugh upon feeling your fluids covering his digits. “I kiss you; I sleep with you, I live and breathe you and use my mouth on you until you can't even breathe. I think that rather makes you mine.”

He says it in a manner that is so matter of fact that it makes your head spin. His. Logically, you know you should be angry at him for being possessive- you aren’t his partner, not his wife, not anything more than a bed partner- but the way he says it has you dripping, walls clenching around nothing at all while his leg grinds against your cunt. His. It leaves no room for argument or discussion, just a claim of ownership that can’t be disputed, not that you would if your traitorous mouth would allow you to form words. You like that, as much as you know you shouldn’t. It makes you sound like a pet or some kept whore, and the affectation in his voice only serves to remind you that he must be some rich cunt and you should slap him for implying he could ever own you, but really, all you want is for him to breach you with his calloused fingers, make your thighs quake. To be owned by him, at least right now, sounds perfect- to be filled with him until you know nothing but his name and how his cock feels within you.

“You're soaking.” He mutters, dragging his nose against your skin. “Is this for me? Or that prick?” He sounds so smug, but there's an undercurrent of anger running under his playful tone.

“Please... Please.” You whine out, biting your bottom lip so hard you taste blood. He chuckles, fingers deftly circling your clit without ever moving further.

“Please what, Little Miss?” He asks, his smile all teeth. “Please...? Please stop touching you? Please let you go and be touched by that disgusting little-"

“Finger me.” You cut him off earnestly, back arching off of the wall and pressing your chest into his. Melitele, it’s sad how wanton you’re acting, begging to be touched in a place where anyone could walk past the two of you. Quiet is needed, discretion to keep prying eyes away, but you don’t care who hears you as long as he stops playing these games and does what you both want him to do.

“Me or-"

“Gods above Jaskier, please. Please, Jaskier.”

He smirks at that, and you force yourself forward to slam your mouth against his. The vibration against your lips lets you know he has more to say; always has more to say, is never silent. Normally, his voice is something you revel in; how it manages to make even the most mundane thing sound melodic, but if kissing him will keep him from talking more about the man inside then you can deal with him not speaking. Thankfully, though, he ceases his circling to instead push what feels like two fingers into you and your eyes water at the sudden movement. It’s not the first time he’s done this but it is the first time he’s done it with such intensity, thrusting his fingers with such force you're almost afraid it might bruise your cunt, the worry is short lived when the pleasure of it hits you all at once. He’s good with his hands, you’re reminded when you notice the neck of his lute bobbing with each movement of his arm. Musicians’ fingers, calloused from the fruits of his art and not labour, play you like he plays his lute and you bite down on your bottom lip to keep from making a sound, just to spite him. He loves it when you make noise, said once that it makes him sure that he's actually pleasing you, and it’s normally a sign that you two can afford the privacy to be so- there is no privacy here, in an alley outside of a busy tavern where one loud moan could alert anyone of what the two of you were doing. It’s embarrassing how much the proximity makes you want to moan, and almost definitely why he's doing this here. Wants everyone inside, but mostly the blond man, to know how little it takes for you to fall apart for him. That travelling partner definitely isn’t the right term for what he is to you, even if you don’t know what the right words to describe him are.

“Come now, Little Miss.” He coos quietly, fingers on the hand not currently working you into a stupor tracing the visible edges of your teeth. “Sing for me.” His face shifts to your neck and presses a soft kiss to it, before nipping at it, nipping turning to biting and sucking as soon as it had started. His fingers gather more momentum when a third breeches into you and then crooks into a spot that has you seeing stars. A noise that verges on a scream, masked by a sudden burst of loud music and cheering within the pub, escapes you which makes Jaskier grin and peck your lips before retracting his fingers all together.

“Jaskier-" You hiss, eyes narrowed to slits, but stop when he drags your hand to his trousers and places it on top of his cock. The dark had done enough to conceal it from you, but with it beneath your hand you can feel it, hard and throbbing beneath the fancy fabric. It’s good to know that, jealousy aside, he isn’t angry enough to not want you. Dark lashes brush against his cheekbones and his head slumps to the wall beside your head as soon as you touch him, letting out a wanton little moan. “Oh Jask.” Your voice turns tender and your grip on his member tightens as much as it can through his pants and you work it up and down the shaft, feeling how it twitches with every movement of your wrist. The first time this had ever happened, both of you drunk on ale that tasted like piss and hidden away in some cupboard in an inn, he had chuckled at how gentle your touch had been, going so far as to grab your wrist to guide your movements into something more pleasurable: but now he chokes out a moan of something that sounds like your name, hips stuttering in staccato thrusts to chase your hand. You drop your grip of him after a pump or two more, turning your head to press a gentle kiss to the exposed underside of his jaw. It’s little by means of an apology, but you see his lips turn up in a smile while he heaves out a sigh, hands sliding down to his trousers and unlacing them at a speed that reminds you of his strumming.

“Part your legs.” It’s spoken like a request, but you know it’s a demand and even if it wasn't, there was no way you could deny him. With an awkward sort of shuffle, you push your undergarments down to step out of them best that you can before leaning back against the wall and letting your legs part. The skirts still cover you, but you feel so exposed like this. In the near pitch, you can hardly make out anything save for how his arms move to shove his trousers down. Darkness hides too much, you think, as you can’t even make out how his member even looks in this light, but Melitele you feel it against your thigh when he steps closer to you. A cold hand slides your skirt up once more and Jaskier steps between your legs, holding onto your thigh and guiding it onto his hip.

“Can I-"

“Fuck me, Jaskier, or I shall scream.”

The moan that escapes your lips is louder than you would like, but he chuckles and it’s enough to make your heart swell: lips landing on your and moving gently against them as he thrusts into you. He's big, big enough to make your cunt feel full to bursting point each time he enters you, and you can’t help but make noises when he does.

“There we go, Darling.” He murmurs against your mouth, making you wonder how he can string together a coherent sentence in moments like this. “Gods, you’re so tight.”

Thrusts grow faster and with each movement your moans grow louder even against his lips, you can feel them curl around yours. He tugs back from you after a little while and rests his forehead against the wall, breathing heavily.

“You’re so good to me, Little Miss.” He breathes, grip turning to iron on your thigh. “You’re... perfect. My Little Miss.” He speaks so much that his words feel so much more natural than silence, more natural than anything in the world; bird songs, trickling streams, Jaskier’s words. “You’re beautiful, and he wants you... everyone wants you. I can’t lose you...”

“...You know I want you, don’t you?” You ask, voice cracking. The noise that he makes is somewhere between a moan and a sob, breathing shakily against the skin of your throat. “I can't imagine being without you, Dandelion. You... You have no need to be jealous of some stranger who tries to kiss me.” He whimpers, hips stuttering. He's close, far closer than you, but in this moment, you don't care at all. This isn’t about you. This is about him, and letting him know how much you care. Care in such a way that words alone will never be able to express.

“You want me now.” He sighs, thrusts slowing and hand moving to rub your clit once more. “I know that. But you'll change your mind, Little Miss. Everyone does. I ought to savour the time we have...” He thrusts hard at the word savour, and you see white as his cock head hits that spot deep within that makes you weak. “But I know you’ll soon change your mind.”

Oh. That, that was not what you anticipated at all- you had expected some sort of talk about how he wants you too, but this self-depreciation is new. Jaskier is always so confident and this is alien to you. There isn’t a time you know when he isn’t self-aggrandizing, preening and strutting like some fancy song bird, all too aware of how wonderful he is.

“I'll always want you.” You whisper and his head rises from the wall once more and instead rests his forehead against yours. “You. Just you. Wonderful, amazing you.” You mean it too. He'll probably believe it to be drunken ramblings come morning, but you mean every word. You love him, love him, love him.

You love him. Have for far too long, really, far longer than is right to go without saying. It’s impossible not to love him, he’s a breath of fresh air, a beacon of light in a doublet, a lullaby you didn’t know you had forgotten, nostalgia for a life you've never known before. Jaskier. Wonderful, foolish Jaskier, who sings away each day and talks to you like he cannot imagine speaking to another soul, and does his best to stitch up your wounds while chiding you about how you worry him so. Jaskier, who has carried you on his back when he thinks you're limping behind, and sleeps with his arms wound around you and head burrowed between your shoulder blades. You love Jaskier. The thought overwhelms you, and you have to bite back the words to keep them from coming out. You seek his lips out once more, kissing him chastely.

“I'll always want you too, Little Miss.” He admits, he thrusts hard into that spot and presses on your clit and your vision blurs as you moan so loudly your voice cracks, pleasure overtaking you and ensuring you can’t feel anything but pleasure and the rush of his seed flooding into you.

“I mean it, you know.” You say when the world settles once more, Jaskier pulling himself free of you and tucking himself back into his trousers. “About wanting you, I mean.” I mean it. I shall want you till the day I die, till each star burns out and the nights no longer follow the day, till spring doesn’t come. I want every part, every facet and secret, every regret and mistake and treasured memory- and to make a million more. I want to show you each scar and hear every song. I love you. I have never loved anyone as I love you, I will never again love as I have loved you. You make a poet out of me, steal my senses, my very soul; and I want you to keep them until the day you are no longer mine to keep, and then keep them a thousand days beyond so I cannot feel your absence. I love you. I want you.

“You mean it now, Little Miss.” He says simply, hand taking yours. “Now is enough.” He continues and squeezes your hand.

Now is enough, you think, but forever is all you want.

#jaskier x reader #jaskier imagine #jaskier smut #jaskier x y/n #jaskier x you

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streets-in-paradise · 4 years ago

Text

Royal Treatment

Troy (2004) Reader Insert Fanfiction - Part 10

Word Count: + 9 K

Characters ( most mentioned) : Achilles, Mycenaean Princess!Reader, Helen, Patroclus, Ajax, Agamemnon, Menelaus.

Pairings: Achilles x Mycenaean Princess!Reader.

Warnings: Very light smutty undertones.

Summary: Since her last private encounter with Achilles left her with more doubts than certainties, the princess keeps trying to obtain a clear answer from him. During the celebrations, she comes up with an idea to test his interest.

Disclaimers: This was inspired by a mix of greek music ,various drum solos and improvisations of greek folk that I found on youtube and some mediterranean, egyptian and turkish music I have been listening to. Also, I want to apologise if part of this sucks. i’m still learning how to write some stuff and I don't know if this is as good as it was in my head when i pictured it.

Note: My use of the name Alexander here is only a reference. I know that’s how Paris was called in some versions of the myths and I’m only playing word games with that.

Tags: @yerevasunclair @mother-dearest-loves-me

The celebrations started with a short formal gathering in the throne room. The place was slowly getting crowder and the princess arrived later than usual but it wasn’t a concerning time range. Wordlessly, she returned to her spot alongside her father. She noticed the cup of wine he was holding and smiled to the pourer that remained close to him. The servant boy smiled back and the king looked at him like he was ready to order his execution. As a soft gesture of support against his bad mood, she holded his free hand. She knew that words of reassurance trying to explain herself or a convincing tale weren’t enough, so she tried something else. The sudden contact made him stare at her. He was still upset, she saw it in his eyes. Quickly, she changed the intention of her approach. Instead of acting like a caring daughter giving him reassurance, she showed the support of a loyal subdit. She kissed his knuckles and bowed her head in sign of respect, pretending to recognize his absolute authority over her. Agamemnon reacted positively, giving her a half smile that wasn’t exactly of approval but showed forgiveness. He was vainglorious about his self perceived but non existent mercy, appealing to that was more effective than trying to show affection.

The obsequious flatterers of the king started to gather around them, since that part of the festivities was nothing but an excuse to formally celebrate himself. Inevitably, some of the praise fell upon her and she kept her attitude towards it pleasing and passive, avoiding smart remarks or destacable commentary. She wished she could be left alone with her friends, but she had to keep performing for a bit longer. Helen was close to her and right next to her husband, but the distance that implied was a real bother. They shared some complicit glances despite being under the watch of the brothers.

Using their unexpected presence as an excuse to flatter their own egos, both kings started to show off some of the treasures of the conquest presented as gifts for the ladies. Argos wasn’t sacked, there was no need for excessive violence because Achilles speeded up their surrender. Still, as it did for other cities, their submission implied some concessions. Agamemnon got the military control of the land and demanded a share on the treasures of the city. Since he didn’t have a queen, his daughter had to occupy the passive role in his acts of ostentation. She had a collection of jewelry that was entirely based on stolen relics from every city he conquered, having at least one for every place. That wasn’t going to be the exception. The acquired riches were everything he had to brag about after Achilles took the symbolic glory. Knowing that most of the presents must have heard about what the warrior demanded of her, it was also a good way to reinforce her royal magnificence and the image of his control over her. On that occasion, the commemorative object of the victory she got was a necklace.

The young women were the centre of attention, as luxury objects whose value was being increased. Menelaus was acting like a loveful husband to Helen while he filled her with gifts from his share of the spoils, his older brother almost looked like a sweet, prideful father. The ceremonialize praise was hypocrisy, but it was fun for both girls to see their despicable owners pretending to be caring. Fortunately for their exhausted selves, the last and most expectant arrival stole all the attention.

As always, Achilles showed up very late. He tended to skip the pointless ceremonies that weren’t about him and he liked to leave his public hanging. Eudorus and Patroclus entered the room at his right and left side, wondering what he was going to do next. Without minding the context or any appearances of propriety, he walked right to the front of the crowd. Once he found his spot to stay, he blatantly stared at the ladies and saluted them from afar with a smile. Before his entrance, Agamemnon was in the middle of a self complacent speech that he interrupted. The sight of such a simple act creating more distraction irritated him even more. The king tried to save words with him, but Achilles robbed him of the speech before he could carry on.

“ My apologies to the ladies, I almost miss their honors.” He simply commented. “ Quite a charming pair, very sweet. I hope they enjoy what my effort got for them.”

The women stared at each other.

“ It’s not my wish to offend you, brave Achilles, but I don’t depreciate my husband’s courage.” Helen replied with extreme politeness.

“ Father knows my taste in jewelry.” was the princess’s defense.” And he is a smart strategist and clever politician. The brightest conductor of the army, of course.” She smiled to the king, trying to look like a sweet praiser. “ Your alliance is a treasure we must cherish because your accomplishments together are an honor to us all.”

” You honored me, I’m doing the same. “ the myrmidon replied.

“ It was no bother, the glory is yours. Nobody questions that.” The princess gave him the most formal answer that occurred to her in the moment.

Trying to keep with the ceremonial tone, she created an immediate distraction to relieve the tension of the moment.

“ Can we all thank this man as he deserves? This is an historical day for the city. He is the first fully consecrated hero in the times of my father.”

To her exhortation, claps and cheers filled the precinct. After that, Agamemnon decided to put an end to the formalities. There was no way of making it about himself again, so he concluded it. The festivities continued in the banquet hall.

Helen tried to reach her niece so they could do the short walk there together, but her very pleased husband stumbed in their way. Unlike his brother, he was radiant of pride because of the fervent defense that his wife did of him. If he didn’t love Helen, at least he loved how she made him feel.

Agamemnon grabbed his daughter by the wrist before she could escape to their side. Holding hands for the appearances, the started a whispered argument.

“ This is your second mistake in a row. What do i have to do with you?” He reprimanded her.

“ I got away from that shameful situation in the most elegant way, that’s what I’m supposed to do. If i were a man, I would have punched him.” She lied.

“ If you were a man, I wouldn't need him.”

“ Do you think that you would have had your own Hector of Troy if I would have been your baby boy? Quit dreaming, father. This is what you have, I do my best to serve you.“

“ You call this serving me??”

“ Who do you think I was serving when I agreed to bathe him ? Do you think that I enjoyed being degraded into servant work for him ? ” She fakely complained. ” I hate his petty audacious attitude as much as you do, but I stand him because it is what I have to do. You don’t know how hard I’m trying for you.”

She released herself from his grab.

The banquet involved less tension because the informal ambient demanded less interaction between them. She had to sit next to her father and keep with the good behaviour but the distractions kept him too busy to keep bothering her. She remained silent most of the time, but she didn't mind.

Achilles and Ajax were the centre of attention. They had a toast in their honor and people started doing them all sorts of questions. Ajax looked a bit upset because the myrmidon stole what he perceived as his chance to get major glory. He was doing a relatively good act pretending not to care about Achilles's decisive role in the victory and she felt a bit bad for him. One of her very short interventions on the talking was an attempt to validate him, but Agamemnon used her comment as a startpoint for malicious comparisons against Achilles. Using his massive amount of knowledge on heroic tales, Patroclus solved the situation. He did a magnificent defense of both heroes, talking about the complementary balance of their best traits with examples of some of their past feats. His eloquence was impressive for someone of his age, as it was his audacity to argue with the king.

Helen was having the time of her life just by witnessing how Menelaus's nervousness was growing at every instant. It was very strange for her to see him like that, fearing that anything could trigger a suspicious response from his brother. He was having a small sample of the life of lies he forced her into and she loved it. The funniest aspect about the situation was that Patroclus maintained a respectful tone the entire time. He was polite in his corrections and Agamemnon would have been the one looking bad if he would have reacted harshly.

While hearing their argument, Achilles glanced at the royal ladies for an instant. He noticed a slight change in his cousin's attitude, a rush of confidence that he wasn't expecting him to display at least there. He started suspecting their involvement and it's possible partial influence on him. The women glanced back innocently and the three shared their prideful approbation.

Patroclus's shift on the conversation frustrated the king's intentions of turning one hero against the other. Ajax got his well deserved acknowledgement and the curious boy took his chance to do all sorts of specific questions to him, giving him a moment to shine without entering in disputes with Achilles.

Since her comment started the argument,the young myrmidon tried to engage the princess in his rambling. She wasn't versed in the technical aspects of combat, but she tried to remain as a curious listener. Ajax's point, supported by the boy, was to affirm that he was the strongest man in Greece while Achilles was the fastest. He was trying to impress his listeners with less known anecdotes referring to that quality. Achilles didn't bother in refuting him and he barely paid attention because he was amusing himself by subtly ruining the girl's focus on whatever he was telling. Imperceptible gestures, smirks or just staring at her for longer than necessary were enough to achieve it. Staying concentrated in the talk was impossible for her, but she managed the situation adecuately.

When the meal concluded and the dancing started, Ajax offered her to join the festivities with him. She declined in favor of staying as Helen's companion. Ereny asked the princess's permission to be released from her daily duties and, once it was given to her, both handmaids got it. They knew that the young girl was going for the myrmidon captain and they wished her good luck.

The queen was left once more to witness how her husband chased the concubines. She didn't love him nor cared for what he did with them, but the blatant display was humiliating. She struggled to keep the appearances of love between them, but he made it harder everyday. The prideful public aspect of his cheating upsetted her because it was an insult to her pride as a woman. Her niece stayed with her, promising her that they would only have to wait until the brothers would leave the room with their respective companies.

She was feeling slightly disencouraged as well. That was a great time to lose herself in the dispersion of people, but there were too many stares following Achilles and she would never get there unnoticed. An insane amount of women were expectantly waiting to be chosen by him for the night. The ladies were competing for his attention, some being less subtle than others. She wasn't jealous, but she didn't want to engage in that game. She never tried to compete for attention and she wasn't sure of wanting to start there.

While she remained in her seat watching the crowd, her mind kept focused on one thought: Achilles seemed to fancy her in some way, but she still didn’t know how. She started fearing about the image he had of her. He described her as cute, he said that her face was adorable. Those were compliments fitting for a sweet girl, not an attractive woman.

She didn't have any certains but, if it was the case, she wished she could prove him wrong. He teased her for a very long while and she wanted revenge, but she was the princess and she couldn't allow herself such behaviour. She urged to show him how perfectly capable of displaying sensuality she was and the first thing that occurred to her was dancing.

She never showed off in public about the full capacity of her skills. Immediately as she got older enough to be allowed to stay late night in festivities, she got enraptured by the dancing of the concubines and she ended up learning to dance from them. She wanted to learn it only for herself, because she loved the graceful aesthetical aspects of the movements and she admired their performances. Her father didn’t allow her to do it but, like almost every other thing bringing joy to her life, she did it behind his back.

It was her secret talent. If she could disguise herself in the group of dancers to participate in their performance, it would be hard to difference her from the actual performers. With that in mind, she started imagining Achilles's reaction if he could see her dancing like that. She wondered if he would feel as teased as he made her feel, if he would acknowledge her womanhood and if he would want her.

Her thoughts were interrupted by Helen.

" Do we have to stay like this the entire time?" She complained.

" We have to wait until they leave. It’s the best for now. " The girl replied. " I don't get it. Does he enjoy himself thinking that everyone is watching him cheat on you or what? Anyone would expect that after the devotion you faked he would think it twice and be more discrete but no, there he is... making you look like a fool. "

" I'm thankful to get him away from me. I only wish he could have some decency and keep it private.” The queen confessed. ” I don't deserve this humiliation. I'm a good wife, I do everything he demands of me. All I ask in return is to be respected, at least in public." Her voice was breaking a bit.

“ It’s never enough with them, they only think about themselves. “ the princess reminded. her.” I think we should do the same more often.”

“ What we did classifies as such.”

“ It wasn’t entirely selfish. We saved lifes … and their egos from an historical defeat. I mean a bit of real selfishness. A good payback. ”

“ I just want to be left alone. A lover wouldn’t repair the scars in my pride.”

“Many men would give everything they have for a night with you.” The princess commented to her. “ Do you never feel the need of being desired by a man that you want? “

“ Where did your good judgement go?” Helen mocked her.

“ You know everything about my sentimental life, but we never talk about yours.”

“ What most of those men have to offer is not what I would wish.” The queen explained. “ I have experienced desire. If we are talking about impossible aspirations, I want love.”

“ Why choose? You can have both.”

“ What did I do of you? Are you hearing yourself? Aren’t you the same girl whose goal was to have a nicely arranged marriage planned by herself using political strategy ? ”

“ You don’t want me to give up on love. Why should I let you do it ?

" You know better than anyone why I have to."

" That's not going to happen. My mother was alone, we have each other." the princess remarked. " Look at what we accomplished. We stopped a massacre, made a new friend and I got closer to the man I love, more than I ever thought I would be. "

" I told you, it is too late for me. "

" Helen,I used to think that my feelings for Achilles were a fantasy. I was ready to accept it as a comforting dream and carry on with my life. Thanks to you, I changed my mind. " the girl explained. "You have helped me so much. How can you think that I wouldn't do the same for you? "

" I doubt I would find love in a place like this, but I appreciate your concern. " the queen stated.

" Promise me that, if you do someday, you will let me help instead of giving up."

" We won a battle, dear. Not the war. " Helen clarified.

" We can win many more. " her niece reassured her. " You deserve to be loved and to own your desire."

"To be honest, I feel I’m more aware of what I don’t like in a man than of my actual preferences. I don't know what i like anymore. "

" Don't worry. We have time, i would love to help you to rediscover your taste. If it is not now, we will keep digging into figuring it out."

" It's not wise to get involved with someone that would never be mine. "

" You know what? I think I overcomed that. '' the princess declared. " I don't care anymore. Maybe Achilles will never be mine and so what? I want to be with him, I don't mind how. Perhaps he will never make me his wife and that's fine, I don't need to own him to love him. Love is not only about marriage. If marriage can exist without love, love can exist outside of marriage and you can find it. "

“ You have to tell me now what happened in that excuse of a bathing ceremony.” Helen teased her, encouraged and excited.

The princess tried to explain it to her carefully, watching over her expressions and paranoidly checking for the presence of unwanted listeners. Listening to her cheered Helen up.

“ What are you doing sitting here? “ she reprimanded her.

“ If I’m going to do a move, it has to be safer than this. “ The girl clarified. “ I can’t risk being seen by my father or inspiring gossip.”

“ He could have kissed you right there. “

“ Reason in the form of Hesione stopped me from finding out if he would have .” The princess added. “ I don’t know if i can do it now. Have you seen all those women ready to step on each other's heads for him? I’m not going to do that.“

“ You don’t have to be part of that,you are one step ahead.” Helen stated “ If you want a moment to get things clear. This is it.”

With that, she dragged her up from her seat.

The young ladies mixed themselves in the crowd, trying to have fun on their own. The princess procured not to concentrate in trying to find Achilles and just enjoy herself in the company of her aunt. Helen’s mood improved from the brief downfall it had because she redirected her thoughts. Instead of thinking of the public humiliation brought to her by her husband’s behaviour, she focused on the victory over him that she got. She humiliated him indirectly, her actions caused a situation that made him feel like an idiot in front of his brother. Some justice was served that time and she was able to celebrate. It was a small triumph, but just thinking about that made her start laughing without an apparent reason. The sudden boost in her joyful mood started to manifest in her dancing.

The queen’s grace was famous, but Helen never looked prettier as she did when she was really happy. She irradiated her emotions and the ambient felt renewed around her. Bright of happiness, she started dancing right in front of the musicians and the magnetic effect of her approach made them play the same song for longer, just so she wouldn’t leave. The percussionist was jaw dropping with her and even the princess was impressed by how obvious he was.

He was bewitched, but not in a lustfull way. The handsome young man was worshipping Helen with his music and she started responding with her dancing straightly to him. Since she realized that her niece was right next to her evaluating the situation, she encouraged her to follow her moves instead of teasing them with stares. Then, both girls found themselves dancing for the musicians and letting themselves go to the beat of their music.

Unlike the queen, the princess tried to keep her moves as chaste and cheerful as possible. Still, forgetting all her concerns to the sound of the music almost ruined her intentions . The fastening of the beat betrayed her for an instant and some very inappropriate hip flicks she did under the influence of the stimulation around her impressed her dancing companion. She isolated the movement of her hips to the rhythm of the song with a great synchrony. Sharp hip flicks combined with contractions of the lower belly creating a single circled swing. Cheering from the crew of artists made her realize of how she let herself go completely and she calmed down, going back to her usual style.

It was too late, Helen was too curious to let it go. Once the song ended, she had to abandon her admiror. Then, she started questioning her.

“ What was that?? It was incredible! “ She complimented her.

“ Sorry. The beat was great and you were pushing me in the wrong direction.”

“ When were you going to tell me about this?” The queen recriminated her.

“ Our mystery is solved. I think you are into pretty boys worshipping you with respect. Sweet admiration, not those looks of when you know that the man is mentally undressing you.” The princess teased her to avoid the topic.

“ Don’t try to get away from this. “ Helen teased back. “ You have to teach me that.”

“ I lost control, I wasn’t supposed to do that here .” the princess excused herself.

“ You will explain to me later where that came from, now I want to learn how to move my hips like that.”

“ We all have our unique ways of expression. You have your makeup skills, I have this.” the girl joked. “ I didn’t mean to hide it from you, the occasion to show you never presented. “

“ It presented itself now.” Helen rectified. “ We have music and a proper space. “

She was reluctant, but agreed.

“ Only because it’s you who is asking. I owe you too much to say no.” She admitted. “ This is absolutely inappropriate so i will only show you hip moves. For a proper lesson, I need secrecy."

“ Forget protocols, we are having fun.” Helen encouraged her.

Her niece took the position of instructor and decomposed the otherwise integrated steps of the movement so Helen could learn it and copy it. Very slow like at first, the queen achieved it with great enthusiasm. The princess oriented her into repeating it a few times before trying to find a pace with the rhythm. She guided her into picking that pace and, soon, both were dancing at a matching tempo. Helen looked bright with happiness.

" I don't want to brag, but this makes me feel beautiful." she joked.

" It's not very lady-like, but it's fun." her niece replied.

They were being happy with themselves, not caring about anything else. The relegated corner of the place they picked as their fun zone wasn't the safest spot to feel some freedom, but it was the best they had. For once, they ignored the certain chances of attracting stares, the perceptions and everything that tied them. The princess showed the queen two more combinations of hip movements. They were trying hip locks to the sides when a sudden but partially expected intromision ruined their bubble of concentration.

" Watch out, princess. Those moves look so sharp that you could have cutted me with your hips." Achilles told the mycenaean as he passed by right next to her.

The sound of his voice was enough to make her jolt and she lost herself to it, immediately stopping what she was doing.

" I’m glad to see you having fun. I tought you weren't going to get up. " Patroclus cheerfully saluted them, appearing right after him.

Both ladies at once responded to his greetings.

" What are you doing over here?" Helen inquired. " We saw you dancing right in the center with some girls a while ago. You are doing great."

" To be fair, most only looked at me because I'm standing next to him." the boy admitted. " When we came nobody cared but now everyone does because they found out I'm the cousin of Achilles."

" I'm doomed to always being the daughter of Agamemnon, very few people care beyond that." the princess commented. " I treasure those and don't mind for the rest. "

" Don't worry. You will make a name for yourself soon and that will end." Helen added. " Younger noble girls from big cities can be like that but growing up makes them wiser. In a few years, you will start to be seen as yourself and they will adore you. "

Achilles was impressed by the soft naturality of their interactions. They were comforting him as close friends. He kept listening to their conversation.

" It's fine, It doesn't affect me that much. " Patroclus tried to explain himself better. " In fact, I'm hiding from your husband."

To the mention of him, Helen looked exasperated.

" What has he done now?"

" He was talking with Achilles and I was there with them. " the boy started telling them. " He must be too drunk to care about being too friendly. He started saying nice things about me and ended up offering me a woman. "

Helen got second hand embarrassment.

" I'm sorry, darling. Did he make you feel uncomfortable?"

" He said some stupid thing about how he had her before and she was perfect to make me a man. It was disgusting."

" That's the House of Atreus at it's best. Imagine them at their worst. " the princess added. " Ignore him, Pat. You may be too young, but are already a better man than him."

" I have faith in you." Helen emphasized. " I think you 'll be a great hero because your morals match your potential as a warrior. You will make us all proud."

" We love you. " the princess concluded. " Keep ignoring anything you hear from him or my father. They think they know better than everyone else but they are the worst combination of cruel and stupid. "

" I leave him with you just once and you are already pampering and overprotecting him?” Achilles commented, his mocking hiding a shade of happiness. " He knows that Menelaus is not a good example of what truly means to be a man. "

" He has you. " the queen complimented him. " You aren't perfect, but you are guiding him right. It doesn't matter how many battles you win. To me, he reflects the best of you. "

Patroclus smiled at her. Helen's praise impacted him in a positive way.

" She wasn't a strong supporter of you." The princess clarified. " Her opinion changed after meeting him."

" Spending so much time with people who love you changes the perspective. " The queen hinted, indirectly including her niece in the affirmation." I used to think you were a cold, emotionless man with no care for anything. Your bond with Patroclus is only one of many proofs of how wrong I was. I commited with you the same mistake everyone does with me: I judged you by what you appear to be. "

" Good, It's mutual." Achilles simply replied. " You are stronger than what I thought you could be. I started to see it in all the stories that your niece has told me about your shenanigans. I like you a lot more thanks to her."

" It's the first time ever when somebody likes me first. In Sparta, you will be addressed as Patroclus's cousin." the boy added, mocking him with pride.

" Seeing you again in my lands would bring me great joy. '' Helen stated." I hope that this shameful experience with Menelaus didn't scare you away."

" Don't worry, queen. " Achilles reassured her. "If you are guilty of anything, is of cherishing so much that he doesn't want to leave your side."

" I have new friends that like me for me. Get over it. " his little cousin kept joking.

" I celebrate it. They are a good influence for you. " Achilles replicated." Today you humiliated a king for the first time and you did it so cleverly that he couldn't find a way to argue. Agamemnon, of all kings. I can't be more proud. "

" He deserved it. He was trying to create spite between you and Ajax. That's low, even for someone like him. '' Patroclus explained.

" Thanks for helping me there. If it wasn't for you, he wouldn't have stopped until offending one using the other." The princess told him." Not so long before he used to say that Ajax was a brute fool from an insignificant kingdom, now he wants to make him the next Hercules. He is desperate, he wants so badly to get rid of your cousin that he is willing to accept any other who would obey him.``

" I feel bad for any contestant in the army aspiring to get the same glorification he has." the boy affirmed. " Achilles has you, that's a great advantage. They will never make it."

The princess laughed softly, glancing at the warrior.

Achilles's gaze followed hers, in complicity.

" You are the queen's favourite, you will run with the same advantage. "

" The bright daughter of the highest commander designs political strategies for you… All the rest are doomed."

" You are so sweet!" the princess thanked him.

" I don't see why not pointing it out. "

" Agamemnon is too foolish to see it, but you think like a politician." Helen told her.

" What's greatly convenient, because having to stand polítical tangles is what Achilles hates the most about his work. " Patroclus insisted.

" Odysseus had helped him with that countless times. " the young lady reminded him.

" He is a king, his polítical work is for his own benefit." Helen remarked. " I know they are good friends, but the goal of Odysseus's work is not to raise him up above all the heroes."

" His competence has no chance because now he has you aligned with him and working with his interests. Honestly? I think that's a bit unfair." Patroclus concluded.

" They must have their own tricks." Achilles defended himself. " I guess she is mine now."

" We shouldn't be discussing this here. " the princess warned them. " Can we bring up something else ? This is a party, we are supposed to talk trivial things. "

" Where did you learn to dance? " Helen asked, pretending to be innocently curious.

" Seriously??"

" It is a trivial topic. " the queen remarked before explaining herself to the recently arrived men. " What you just saw was me attempting to learn some incredible moves I saw her doing. I had no idea, it was a total surprise and I'm very curious."

" The story behind it is not as interesting as you think it is." the princess clarified.

" When she says that, assume the opposite." Achilles mocked her.

" I have been secretly involved in dance practices of the palace's concubines for years. I don't like to show it at parties because it is something I learned for my own gratification and my father is not supposed to find out. " She confessed " Helen looks so happy, she inspired me to relax and I forgot were I was."

" Wait, are you a dancer? That explains a lot of things. " Patroclus commented, impressed. " I wrecked you when we were trying to teach you self defense but I noticed that you have some flexibility. "

" It's nothing compared with what it requires to be a fighter. '' the princess corrected him. " Being more specific, I'm not a dancer because it's not my occupation. I learned from actual dancers and I practice for fun. It's very liberating for me, a great pastime during the absences of my father. "

" How is it that we keep discovering secrets of yours? " Achilles asked.

" You are one of the few who know me as i am. " she tried to explain herself. " I discovered my fascination with dancing right after I started being allowed to stay all the way during parties. I saw a performance and I knew then that I wanted to do that. I wasn't paying attention to the lustful men around the dancers, I loved their movements. Men may see it only as their entertainment, but the dance looks like a celebration of femminity. I wanted that."

" How did you do it?" Helen insisted.

" It took some time. " She started telling. " When Agamemnon saw me following the girls at a gathering because I was trying to learn from them he was scandalized. He forbade it to me, he said that dancers were whores and no daughter of his was going to humiliate him behaving like a whore. He tried to make it up for me by sending me to the temple of Artemis to dance with the priestesses."

" Of course, you had to learn from the virgins. How would you dare to question his expectations? " Helen joked, sarcastically following the line of the reasonament.

" It wasn’t my wish, I did it because he said it. Dancing like a priestess was not what I wanted.” the princess kept explaining “ I went to the temple, behaved well, learned what they wanted to teach me and worshipped the goddess in the ritual dances. The priestesses liked me and my father started bragging about how his girl was so pure that the temple of the virgin goddess wanted her."

" He didn't let them have you because he needs grandchildren if he wants his bloodline to continue. " Patroclus guessed.

" I wouldn't have joined them. I honor the gods and sometimes i pray, but i never felt loved by any of them. I respect the dedication of their priestesses, they find fullfilment in serving them. It's not for me, I never felt the mistic call. " She commented. “I did what I was sent to do, I was respectful and that was the end of it. It didn't erase my original interest for the profane dances as Agamemnon thought it would."

Helen laughed briefly. It was always funny to hear examples of the complete ignorance about the sensibilities of women that the Atrides had.

" I waited until his next absence and I went to learn with the concubines of the palace. " The princess kept explaining. " They are not used to being respected by ladies. When I told them that I admired their dancing and I wanted to learn from them they didn't know what to say. It must have impacted them, because they agreed to instruct me in secret. That's how I learned. I keep joining their practices when I can. It helps me to relieve tension and it is my secret way of self expression."

" You managed to make yourself be equally liked by temple maidens and palace dancers? You are a true politician, even outside of politics." Achilles pointed out.

His comment made her smile.

“ Now that I think about it, It is the first time I see you dancing. I didn’t have the pleasure at the wedding party.” He reminded her.

“ I didn’t dance much that time and, certainly, not as i like to when I’m not being watched.” She replied.” This was an accident, Helen was flirting with one of the musicians and the ambient inspired me to lose control.”

“ I wasn’t flirting, I was dancing to his interpretation.” The queen defended herself.

“ You don’t need excuses with us. If you want me to kill your husband, just make a sign.” Achilles joked.

Helen laughed more than what she should have.

“ She is thinking about it!” Patroclus added, cracking of laughter.

“ It is not worthy to ruin your reputation for it, but thanks for the offer.”

“ It can be an accident in the middle of a battle. We can say that he got in the way of my spear.”

The princess laughed harder then.

“ See? She gets me.” The warrior commented.

“ It’s the same kind of grim joke I would have made.” She explained, still laughing.

They shared glances, looking deeply into each other’s eyes for an instant.

“ Do you want to dance with me?” Achilles offered her. “ We couldn’t last time and you are making me curious..”

She took his hand as a sign of approval, smiling with delight.

“ You can dance with me, Helen.” Patroclus playfully added, remarking how they seemed to have forgotten of them.

Helen grabbed his hand and both were laughing,

They walked following the intensity of the music’s sound with the intention of finding the group of musicians again. When they resumed dancing the princess stopped caring about anything else but her partner. It was reciprocal, because Achilles couldn’t take his eyes off her. Remembering some of the wild thoughts she have had before, she unveiled her sensuality for him within her dancing. Her movements were like a soft tease implying that there was so much more that she could be showing to him if the show would have been private. Her hips, waist and chest were the areas of her body that the moves highlighted. Combined with the graceful gesticulation of her hands and arms, it was a very appealing sight.

She knew that he wasn't able to touch her more than what would look necessary because of the context and she was using it at her advantage. Still, since he wasn't able to express himself with actions, he did it with words.

In a particular moment, when he ended up behind her while she was doing torso undulations, he got a chance to grab her hips and whisper close to her ear.

" You should have done this in Phthia, behind closed gates."

They were so close that he was able to smell the scent of her hair.

" It wasn't the right time, but if you invite me back i can take my dancer suit for a private performance." Was her tempting reply. " I have one, you know? My friends helped me to make it."

" I don't think I would let you go after that."

She was melting, her heart was throbbing and her head racing with thoughts of him. However, she did her best to keep going as before because she needed to feel sure of being a woman in his eyes.

While his hands were still on her hips, she changed the move and started doing internal hip circles. The sharp motion, first of her right hip and then the left, incited him to pull away one hand at the time, following the rhythm of her every action. The roundness of the hip rotation made her push her butt slightly against him in a movement that looked accidental but didn't feel as such.

She put some distance between them, enough to spin around and face him again. The song ended shortly afterwards.

" Sorry, It was the music. I almost forgot that you were there. " She apologised, faking innocence.

" Some people may be staring ... Don't you care for discretion anymore?" He teased her.

“ Most people here are drunk. They couldn’t care less, I couldn't care less.” She answered. “ Besides, this was pretty discrete compared to what I can actually do.”

“ Why are you doing this? ”

“ Because I want.” She simply admitted. “ You are the only man I ever wanted to dance for, the first one who has me like this.”

It was a strange confession of feelings. Metaphorically disguised, but it was there.

Achilles didn’t answer. Not because he didn’t wish to, he couldn’t do that at the moment. First, because of the context surrounding them but mostly, because it wasn’t a good time to be open with her. He didn’t want her to confound his own growing feelings for her with a rush of lust. He cared deeply for her, it started fast and it took him by surprise. He felt good having her in his life, even when it was at moments. After each of their reunions he felt a bit more infatuated.

Right there, she was making his body crave for hers, but he didn’t want that to be his first response to her affections. He guessed that she was acting so sensually because she wanted to confess herself but didn’t know how. He thought that she must have heard that was the way in which he prefered to be approached, that she had to make herself be wanted for him. He would have lied if he would have denied that he was enjoying it, but he was trying to avoid thinking with his crotch.

She had given him plenty of subtle signs about her feelings before and he never gave her a direct answer, mostly because he didn't find a good moment for it and part of him felt like he couldn't allow himself to do it. He didn’t want her to assume that he only reacted then because he was horny.

He was trying to do better for her, but she didn’t understand it like that at first.

The princess interpreted his silence as rejection. For the sake of her own pride, she pretended not care. She kissed his cheek,smiled at him and went back to Helen’s side. For the rest of the night,she tried to carry on as it never happened. Internally, she felt stupid, but it was the only way she found to overcome it.

She focused again on helping Helen. Acting carelessly, the first thing she did afterwards was to take advantage of a short pause of the music to talk to the man she was sharing glances with as a way to stimulate her to get closer. The princess started by praising his playing and asking his name in front of her and Patroclus. Smiling proudly, he told them to address him as Alexander. The princess didn’t hesitate in starting calling him Alex. He was very respectful, especially of the queen. He expressed his admiration for her in a kind way and didn't attempt anything on her, clearly seeing her as unreachable. Helen seemed to enjoy his harmless attention. In the conversation, they also found out that Patroclus had musical inclinations. Alexander was a percussionist playing Toubeleki and Patroclus made his contribution to the small talk speaking about his experiences learning to play the khitara. Helen was grateful for the care of her friends, both trying to make efforts for her just because they saw her getting along with him. For obvious reasons, the talk was short, but it was a good start.

They lost sight of Achilles and the princess was secretly relieved for it. She was mortified thinking that her attempt of pursuing him ruined everything between them. Over the course of the party, the three stayed together because they were already comfortable enough with each other.

They got involved in trivial talks with many different people. At one moment, they crossed paths again with Ajax while they were waiting for servants to bring them something to drink. The salaminian hero was doing the same and he greeted their encounter. He was a bit tipsy, but he was good company because he was funnier to be around than what most people assumed. The four fooled around together for a while. They were drinking and joking and the princess almost forgot how bad she was feeling, until he reminded her that she still owed him a dance because he was the first one trying to get her away from the table. He was just joking and It wasn’t his fault, so she tried to keep being sweet to him. Her polite reply explained her refusal linking it to his circumstantial state. Avoiding to sound mean, harsh or sarcastic, she promised him that she was going to dance with him the next time she would find him sober. Fortunately, It made him laugh.

He resumed their previous conversation in an infinitely less formal way, saying that he was perfectly fine because he was the strongest man in Greece and the effect of a few drinks weren’t an impediment for him. He told them that he could show them on the spot how he was able to lift both women from the ground at the same time and Helen considered the discussion about his state over, fearing that he would actually try it. She felt relatively comfortable with him and it was a grateful surprise. For such an intimidant looking man, he was very nice and likeable. After sharing some more laughs, she ended up dancing with him.

Their brief encounter cheered the princess up a bit, simply because it was very hard not to laugh with the amount of funny insanity that they came up with. Still, she kept feeling out of place, like if nobody really needed her there. Helen was probably waiting until the end so she could have a longer conversation with the percussionist and Patroclus deserved some time to have fun on his own if he wanted that. She couldn’t help to think that she was ruining the party for them . Openly expressing her wish of not being followed, she excused herself saying that she had enough fun, was too tired and prefered to rest. She hugged her friends, thanking them for their company and wishing them goodnight.

In her walk to her bedroom,the princess speeded up her pace to avoid being disturbed. She didn’t want to be approached by anyone else, wishing to forget about her feelings of shame. She almost reached her destination, but the hold of Achilles's strong arms deviated her in an empty hall.

“I can't deal with this now. " she admitted. " Would you let me go? I will talk to you in the morning"

" If we wait any longer, we will never do it. " He stated, embracing her waist.

" What are you talking about??" She complained.

“ Don’t play the fool now. You can’t try to hide anymore.”

" I know that I ruined everything. "

While hearing her, he seemed slightly confused.

" By now, you must know how I feel for you. '' She explained herself. " I may be good at reading the feelings of others, but I get easily overwhelmed by mines... I have spent my lifetime training myself to suppress them, I don't understand myself sometimes... I wanted you to see me as the woman I am because only then I could make you understand how I feel."

Her explanation made him chuckle for an instant.

" What's so funny ??." She tried to pull away from his contact, but he was obviously stronger than her.

" I see you as a woman, I have always done it. " He replied.

" I know how you act around the women that you like. It is not how you acted with me. "

" Do you think that I don't want you?" A light chuckle escaped from his lips again. " You are so lovely."

" That's it. I'm always the sweet innocent lamb, I can't escape from that. " She complained. " I'm a living, breathing woman with feelings and desires. "

" I'm aware of that. " He reassured her. " That was a very interesting reminder of it, but I know it."

" Then why do you keep ignoring me? " Her voice showed frustration.

" Things between us are not so easy. "

" You know, before you start thinking about it, I have to say that stepping into helping you was a choice I made based on my convictions. " She clarified. " I believe in you, I didn't do it looking for any retributions. Even if you don't correspond my feelings, that wouldn't change anything. I'm still commited to our pact."

" Calm down." He caressed her hair. " Can you stop assuming that I think the worst of you? I don't."

" I don't know what else to do to get a concrete answer from you.” She insisted. “I just want that. I don't mind the outcome. If you don't feel the same, I will respect it. "

Then, he crashed his lips against hers. It was a sweet kiss, intended to serve as a response confessing his affections, but it was charged with the passion of the long craving for it that he also had. She was in such bliss that he felt her body trembling.

He smiled against her lips.

" Are you alright?"

" It’s the longing. " was all she could answer.

“ You didn't have to do anything else to get me. " He clarified. “ I liked you in Sparta, now i think it’s something more than that.”

" I haven't stopped thinking about you since the day we met." She confessed. " I didn't know then that it was going to get that far, but here i am."

.” Odysseus spent half of the way back telling me to stay away from you like a father scaring away a suitor that he dislikes. “ He confessed. “ I did it for a good long while, but you came to me on your own and you dazzled me."

" He doesn't dislike you, you are his friend. " She clarified " He knows of somebody who hates you and he tries to protect me from him. "

" I will never allow that old drunk to hurt you. " He said, in what sounded like a promise.

" Would you steal me from him?" She playfully joked.

" If it's what I have to do to keep you safe, I would."

She kissed him, clinging onto him and refusing to pull away until being breathless. In that act, she condensed years of hidden adoration for him and all her hopes.

Achilles felt it, and he couldn’t help to love her for it.

“ My room is close. “ She offered. “ It’s safer to continue there.”

She giggled and headed first. It wasn't wise of them to be seen getting inside there together, so they had to do it in turns.

The princess arrived first, leaving the door unlocked. Her heart was racing with expectancy. The warrior appeared shortly afterwards, closing the door behind them. Immediately after seeing him, she kissed him again.

" Slow down, lioness." He teased her after she finally pulled away.

" I wish I could." she joked in reply.

" This is what I mean when I say that you are adorable, not that I see you as a cute little girl. " He commented." You are so tender, it gets me."

" Really?" She asked, impressed.

" I love it. " He answered, honestly. " I also loved what you did for me tonight. "

" It didn't look like that. " She pointed out.

" It didn't have to look like that. It was dangerous. " He reminded her. " I like some risk, but you took a pointless one."

" I wanted you to want me and I think it worked."

" You need to know that I don't want you because you did that.” He confessed. “ I want you for you and I want all of you, not just this."

" Then take me." Her proposition sounded like a beg. " I'm ready." She was talking against his lips, holding his hands and pushing them against her body.

" Not tonight, princess." He was teasing her, his cheeky tone got on her nerves.

" Why?? " She complained, her frustration almost made her raise the tone of her voice. “ I want to be with you, I don’t care for anything else. Father will end up selling me for power anyways, It will be the buyer’s problem. ”

" You didn't let me finish." He corrected her. " I'm not going to take you for myself tonight. " He explained as he started to leave a trail of kisses from her jaw in direction to her neck. " But I have many other ways to show you how good you make me feel. "

She gasped and he smiled against her skin.

" The massage was amazing. " He added as he kept descending. " And that dance? You are spoiling me, that’s royal treatment."

" There is nothing I wouldn't do for you."

He stopped for an instant just so he could look at her in the eye, feel the intensity of her love, and kiss her lips once more.

#troy 2004 #troy #troy (2004)#troy 2004 fanfiction #troy fanfiction #achilles #helen of troy #patroclus #ajax #brad pitt #diane kruger #garrett hedlund #reader insert fanfiction #achilles x reader #female reader

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introvertguide · 4 years ago

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The Sound of Music (1965); AFI #40

The next film that we reviewed from the AFI Top 100 was the most successful movie adaptation of a Hollywood play of all time, The Sound of Music (1965). The story was based on the 1949 memoir of Maria Von Trapp, who became a nanny for a retired naval officer and his children. They lived together in Austria and had to escape from the invading Nazi party right before the start of WW2. That story was turned into a musical by the dynamic duo of Rogers and Hammerstein and eventually translated to a Best Picture Oscar winner directed by the great Robert Wise. The film was nominated for 10 Academy Awards and won 5 of them. This truly is a phenomenal story with great music and I can't wait to get into the breakdown. Of course, I do need to mention...

SPOILER ALERT!!! IT IS NOT LIKELY THAT MANY PEOPLE DON'T HAVE AT LEAST AN IDEA OF THE PLOT OF THIS FILM, BUT I REALLY GO OVER THE DETAILS!!! MAKE SURE THAT YOU REALLY KNOW THE STORY AND HAVE SEEN THE MOVIE BEFORE GOING ANY FURTHER!!!

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The film opens on that iconic spinning shot of Maria (Julie Andrews) from a helicopter and establishes the beautiful hills of Austria. The whole movie is set on and around the city and hills of Salzburg, Austria. It is 1938, dangerously close to the rise of the the Third Reich and Nazi occupation, but Maria is not involved in such things at the time. She is young, enthusiastic, and completely lacking discipline. Turns out she is training to be a nun at the millennia-old Nonnberg Abbey and the Mother Abbess (Peggy Wood) is considering what to do with her. It is decided that Maria will leave the abbey for a time and work as a governess for one Captain von Trapp (Christopher Plummer) and his seven children.

On the day she arrives, Maria learns that the Captain cares for his children with strict military discipline and also that the kids have caused a lot of trouble for their previous governesses. It seems that their mother has died and their father is distant, so they act out to try and get attention. The kids put a frog in Maria's pocket and place a pine cone in her chair at dinner, but she instead thanks them for their warm welcome and they all cry out of guilt. That night, the eldest daughter Liesl (Charmian Carr) goes out and meets with a young suitor named Rolfe (Daniel Truhitte). They sing together in the rain and then she returns to the house via Maria's room. While there, a thunder storm begins and all the other children join out of fear. Maria sings with them about getting over their fears by imagining good things and the children begin to trust her. The next morning, the Captain leaves to go to Vienna giving Maria a chance to bond with the children even more.

While the Captain is away in Vienna, Maria decides she will teach the children to have fun and allow them to play. She tears down drapes and makes play clothes for the children, then takes them around Salzburg and the surrounding mountains. She teaches them how to sing, allows them to climb in trees, and piles them in a boat to go rowing. The Captain unexpectedly returns to the villa with rival love interest Baroness Elsa Schraeder (Eleanor Parker), a rich Viennese socialite and widow looking for a new husband, and mutual friend "Uncle" Max Detweiler (Richard Haydn). The Captain and his guests are greeted by Maria and the children returning from a boat ride on the lake that concludes when the boat overturns. Displeased by his children's clothes and Maria's impassioned appeal that he get closer to his children, the Captain orders Maria to return to the abbey. Just then, he hears singing coming from inside the house and is astonished to see his children singing for the Baroness. Filled with emotion, the Captain joins his children, singing for the first time in years. Afterwards, he apologizes to Maria and asks her to stay.

Impressed by the children's singing, Max proposes he enter them in the upcoming Salzburg Festival but the suggestion is immediately rejected by the Captain as he does not allow his children to sing in public. He does agree, however, to organize a grand party at the villa. The night of the party, while guests in formal attire waltz in the ballroom, Maria and the children look on from the garden terrace. When the Captain notices Maria teaching Kurt the traditional Ländler folk dance, he cuts in and partners Maria in a graceful performance, culminating in a close embrace. The children get together and sing a goodnight song to the party crowd and the impressed Max insists that Maria join the group for dinner. Confused about her feelings, Maria blushes and breaks away to change clothes. The Baroness, who noticed the Captain's attraction to Maria, hides her jealousy while convincing Maria that she must return to the abbey. Instead of joining the party, Maria leaves a note and runs back to the abbey.

Intermission

Back at the abbey, when Mother Abbess learns that Maria has stayed in seclusion to avoid her feelings for the Captain, she encourages Maria to return to the villa to look for her life. We get the very appropriate, but perhaps the most out-of-nowhere and cringy performance in the film, "Climb Every Mountain" sung by the Mother Abbess. It is convincing and Maria returns to the villa, only to learn about the Captain's engagement to the Baroness and agrees to stay until they find a replacement governess. The Captain's feelings for Maria, however, have not changed and he breaks off his engagement with the Baroness and proposes to Maria. The announcement of the first engagement, the return of Maria, the break-up, and the second engagement all happen in a single day in film and about 20 minutes of run time, so make sure to pay attention.

While they are on their honeymoon, Max enters the children in the Salzburg Festival against their father's wishes. When they learn that Austria has been annexed by the Third Reich in the Anschluss, the couple return to their home, where a telegram awaits informing the Captain that he must report to the German Naval base at Bremerhaven to accept a commission in the German Navy. Strongly opposed to the Nazis and the Anschluss, the Captain tells his family they must leave Austria immediately. That night, as the von Trapp family attempt to leave, they are stopped by a group of brown shirts waiting outside the villa. When questioned by Gauleiter Hans Zeller, the Captain maintains they are headed to the Salzburg Festival to perform. Zeller insists on escorting them to the festival, after which his men will accompany the Captain to Bremerhaven.

Later that night at the festival, during their final number, the von Trapp family slip away and seek shelter at the nearby abbey, where Mother Abbess hides them in the cemetery crypt. They are about to get cleanly away when the are discovered by the boy who was courting Liesl. Rolfe is sill a boy but is shouldering the responsibilities of a man. He lets the family get by because he can't bring himself to harm them, but he does call for backup. More brown shirts soon arrive and attempt to pursue, but they discover their cars will not start as two nuns have removed parts of the engines. The next morning, after driving to the Swiss border, the von Trapp family make their way on foot across the frontier into Switzerland to safety.

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I think the first thing to mention is the undeniably beautiful music. I absolutely love the music of this film and how each song starts off simple and just builds in complexity. The best songs either set the scene or progress the plot and are magnificently placed. From the opening song that sets the scene, to the discussion of how to deal with a woman that doesn't fit in, to the discussion of what to do when you are afraid, to putting your love and affection towards somebody who can't love you. The themes are incredibly deep when you consider the lyrics of the songs as foreshadowing the rest of the movie. The von Trapp family has to escape into the hills and they do it using their musical skills. When the family is trapped and has to keep quiet despite extreme fear for their lives, they are able to make it through because they have been taught to suppress their fear thinking of their favorite things. "Sixteen Going on Seventeen" has the young German boy talking about being a man because he is slightly older then the eldest von Trapp daughter, yet he is charged with finding the family and turning them over to the German military and he can't do it. The music serves a purpose and the movie would be far less palatable for it, despite the story being a truly fascinating real life drama.

The great actress Julie Andrews does such a good job as Maria. This was most definitely a perfect role for her and might be her greatest performance. It is between this role and the part she played in Mary Poppins the year earlier. In fact, Julie Andrews was much better known for her Broadway performances at the time of this film. Mary Poppins was the first feature film role for Julie Andrews and The Sound of Music was technically her third. She jumped on the Hollywood scene and was exceptionally lucky that musicals were popular and she was a beautiful young triple threat (acting, singing, and dancing). She is the perfect example of success being a mixture of preparation, luck, and opportunity.

One thing I forget about musicals from this time period is how quickly plot points (like falling in love and building relationships) happen. I don't mean in terms of run time, I mean in terms of time passing by in the story. Maria is sent to be with the von Trapp family and the children go from hating her to needing and trusting her in a single day. She goes from being a beloved nanny to running away to rejoin the nunnery in one evening. The captain goes from proposing to the Baroness to Maria returning to breaking off his engagement to asking Maria to marry him in a 48 hour period. The Captain and Maria return to Austria after their honeymoon and enter a singing competition to escape to Switzerland all on the same day. In terms of run time, that first day actually takes up the first hour of the film. That last night takes up the last half an hour. I doubled checked this just to make sure, but it is true: only 4 critical days are shown in the film. Maria leaves the convent and arrives at the von Trapp house. Time passes, The Captain returns to fire Maria but changes his mind and instead throws a party where Maria runs away. Time passes. Maria is convinced to return and arrives to find the Captain is engaged before he changes his mind to leave the Baroness and immediately proposes to Maria. We see them on their wedding day. Time passes. The Captain and Maria return and he is ordered to join the Navy, but he instead using the children's performance that night as cover to escape with his family. End of movie.

Despite the story being about a young family escaping the Nazis, this film has the lightest rating (G) of any best picture winner. Some films were not rated at the time that would now be considered a G rating and Oliver! in 1968 had a rating of GP (general public) that no longer exists. It seems like a movie that doesn't have at least a bit of a serious tone can't win a Best Picture and that comes with a heavier rating. It was funny that the Amazon Prime virtual copy that I saw most recently starts out with a screen that says rated G for violence, language, and adult situations.

There are some funny behind the scenes stories since there were many young children in the film. This means that many of them are still alive and can relive their memories with young fans. We are also lucky enough to have Dame Julie Andrews still working and sharing her experiences like a champ. She really is a treasure. The young girl who played the adorable Gretl von Trapp (Kym Karath) is only in her early 60s since she was only six in the film. it was actually her 4th picture, giving her more experience in film than Julie Andrews at the time. There were plenty of specials commemorating the 50th anniversary of the film back in 2015, so there are actually some really good interviews with the surviving cast that are relatively recent. I would highly suggest the 20/20 review of the film that can be found on YouTube:

NBC|ABC|20/20: The Untold Story of 'The Sound of Music - YouTube

There was some concern from the cast and the producers that a film version of a musical would not be financially viable. Other Rogers and Hammerstein musicals had been adapted to film and had not lived up to the success that was found on Broadway. Luckily, director Robert Wise used the natural lighting and countryside of Austria and Germany to slightly excuse the sudden singing of a musical that seems out of place in film. Also, he had recently directed West Side Story and knew how to best accomplish this. Then again, who wouldn't want to dance around and sing in those mountains? Wise did some things like lowering the tone of the song "Climb Every Mountain" and moving Maria through the countryside while she was singing "Confidence in Me." This helped reduce the cringe factor.

So does this film belong on the AFI top 100? Oh God yes. It is a great story adapted by the greatest American songwriting duo and directed by one of the great American directors who specialized in musicals. The list would be lacking if this film was not on it. Would I recommend it? Oh man, yes. Go watch it right now. Oh, you just saw it? Watch it again. It's that good.

#robert wise #julie andrews #the sound of music #musicals #introverts #introvert #60s #classic film #best picture #Oscar Winner #rogers and hammerstein

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thesubtlegatsby · 3 years ago

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if ur dnd homebrew has a pantheon, talk about its deities!!!

i am going to answer this if i were an overconfident 19 year old in his first creative writing class after a teenagerhood of only reading hemmingway.

once upon a time i created a pantheon for a small and isolated collection of rpers on a site for friends only. i did this because i wanted to and fantasy should have its own religion, so i puttered through the creation of a smattering of simple gods, lovingly stealing the best and most reliable tropes while inverting the ones that bored me. death remained complex and seething with darkness, justice was prone to its own rule-breaking, and thieves hid behind smirks as much as cloaks - but where saddened wives also held vengeance in their bloody hands and love was not designed with passion in mind, but the rounded and well-fed hearth and home where it dwells most comfortably and with the least drama.

the problem with gods is, once you name them, they demand worship. the problem with these gods, is i was the only one left to pay them any mind.

so pay them i did. i paid them in hours of scribbled notes and a new world, not one they were crafted to fit but one crafted to fit them, one where the beginning was theirs as much as the ending and every step along the way was filled with their worship, their mark, and their handiwork.

then i did something i didn't expect to. i killed one of them. i left the hole where she stood, an empty space in the fabric of creation that made your skull itch if you looked too closely at it but underneath the false veneer of godly immortality i hid the truth that gods could be killed and one of them had killed the other. or at least made it look that way - she had stolen what made this goddess a goddess and left her a broken and confused shell of her former self while the world spun madly on without her.

i did all of this before i even sent out a message saying i would be running a campaign.

poetry aside, here's brief descriptions of the pantheon:

Tophyros: god of the sky, dragons, and justice. firm, fair, and so tired of his long long life, tophyros is the backbone of Lucidion's religion and father, brother, or husband to every god known to exist. his major flaw is that lawful is not enough but he thinks it is, so his judgments are flawed for their lack of forgiveness.

Ygriva: his wife, goddess of marriage, women, childbirth, victory, and vengeance. for her i picked up hera and went "what if she knew she was right and also had a knife?" while tophyros putters around with the Above Board Solutions, Ygriva slips back and forth between slipping poisons in opportune mouths and appearing the dutiful wife.

Skyrozh: Tophyros' brother, god of death, ice, and lies. he was once content with his fate in the underworld as its arbiter but has grown weary and has begun his second attempt to free himself and wage war against those who would keep him trapped. Well, that's how the story goes. In truth, something has been taken from him, and its loss has corrupted him beyond recognition, the caring hand of death replaced with a god who corrupts resting souls themselves to fill his armies.

Goldozath: son of ygriva and tophyros (as all gods following him on this list are) and god of war, revelry, fire, and tactics. he is as much the flow of blood on the battlefield as he is the flow of wine at the feast following a surrender. Goldozath was killed in the first war with Skyrozh, but his champion at the time was able to absorb his godhead and take his place without mortals becoming aware. This replacement puts a much heftier emphasis on the party part of his new godhood than the original god.

Zenrava: goddess of magic, secrets, rituals, and knowledge. she created the elves and was jealous that her sister's creation, the humans, were preferred, and nursed that spite for generations. Zenrava pulled magic out of the world when the war began to protect the souls of the elves in an afterlife separate from Skyrozh's, but the very same sister used her champion to return magic to the mortal races, and for this slight among the others, Zenrava ripped away her godhood and hid it, rewriting the knowledge of the world as if she had never existed.

Trensicaya: goddess of the earth, beauty, music, the hunt. she created the dwarves as well as the lute, and is a no-nonsense goddess who is worshipped quite popularly for being responsible for harvests. the major fall festivals are all in her name, and winter itself is said to be when she leaves the mortal realm to hunt in more dangerous fields for a season. She nursed her own resentment of their youngest sister and assisted Zenrava in keeping the secret of their sister's de-godding.

Tamrohx: god of thieves, merchants, luck, and tricks. Trensicaya's twin. he's a little shit with his own band of followers who are basically a glorious little thieves guild. he has six fingers on each hand which he finds super helpful for sleight of hand tricks. he created goblins to help him with his schemes but lost control of them, and the descendants of these escaped goblins are how common goblins came to be.

Rioh: god of rivers, ocean, storms, health, and chastity. for this i went "how do i make the god of chastity look as slutty as possible" and the answer was wet twink who doesnt have sex. he's the most like tophyros in that he's got a lot of rules he likes to follow, but he's much softer with his followers than his father is. one of his champions, Eost, created a river that allowed civilization to expand into the desert, but part of the magic used to anchor the river also cursed the land around its source and now people who live there turn into alligator monsters.

Diraeus: god of the sun, the moon, travel, and choice. he is also two gods - raes, god of the sun, and dirus, god of the moon. when all is well, diraeus cycles both celestial chariots through the sky. when conflict splits the gods, he shatters, Raes standing stalwart at Tophyros' side and dirus often siding with Skyrozh's schemes and helping to hide his plots from the other gods. the campaign began with diraeus splitting and Dirus knocking Raes out of the sky entirely, plunging the world into night.

last is Amaliana, the tenth god. She was killed and forgotten, the mortals having no trace of her existence and the gods all believing her dead. As mentioned, however, Zenrava did not kill her but hid her godhood from her and left her physical form wandering the world, while trensicaya assisted with the coverup. she is the goddess of the hearth, of love, and of family.

and she gave the group their first quest without them knowing it was her.

#lucidion

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especially-in-heaven · 4 years ago

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HOW TO TAME AN OUTLAW - Allan A-dale/OC Fanfic

FANFICTION LINK | CHAPTER 1 |

Prologue: A Girl with a flower crown

8th September, In the year of our lord, 1183.

Wrap. Tuck. Pin. And hope for the best. Be careful not to prick your finger.

Or at least that was the advice Elaine had learnt to making a flower crown. Actually, choosing the flowers was the hard part as the colours needed to work together. Yellow daffodils for the base, Elaine Walker smiled with satisfaction, and for decoration, a bunch of lilac's threaded through. Once she tucked the last pin in place, she held it out to herself, turning and twisting to admire her work. The girls were already playing in the field. If she waited any longer, she'd miss the travelling festival through the village, going onto Knighton and with her mother's strict rules, she wasn't to leave the boundaries of Clun.

Three solid raps on the door followed. Sarah was outside. She always made the best crowns. pink roses intwined with ivy. Elaine was meant to ask where did she find such beautiful flowers inside the village?

"'Lainey, are you coming?"

"Just two seconds." She called back, firmly placing the crown on her head and twirling. Before she left, she caught her reflection in the edge of a kitchen knife. Lovely.

She was just about to leave when her sister hobbled up behind her. With sticky fingers, she grabbed the ends of Elaine's white cloak and begged in a whimper, "Can't I come?"

"That's up to mother." She dismissed.

"Mumma says I can come if you'll look after me."

"Ugh, Meghan. I just want to go to the festival. I don't have time to make another crown."

She could see Sarah waiting outside. They planned to go together; she didn't want to keep her waiting so shoved Meghan aside and fled. The festival music chiming from the hills where the cherry trees grew. In the soft wind, the air infested with a confetti of pink petals. For once, Clun Village was charmed with banners and music.

Arms wrapped between one another, her and Sarah giggled together until their legs beat their heads and they started racing to the top. Elaine won, only because Sarah's dress held her down. They joined the fray of other girls dancing merrily to the tunes. The long grass not fazing them, nor the mud already worn down on her white silk dress. Sarah was quickly dragged by the elbow, a nice man with a nice beard twirled her around. Elaine continued to clap to the beat, forgetting completely -as the band continued through the village, up past the cherry trees and into the trees - her promise to her mother.

"This is brilliant!" Sarah found her again, beaming merrily. Her face red from dancing with the stranger, and new addition of rose flowers prickled in her hair. "Why don't we have festivals every day like this."

"Because not every day is Prince Richard's birthday."

Flutes played - Oh god, how she loved flutes. Dancing to its mellow tune until she'd spun so much the world did also. Nothing felt better than the forest pines under her feet, watching as the leaves twisted in circles as she moved her body.

The trees parted and Knighton hall appeared on her left, Elaine jolted to a stop. She'd only just realised how far she'd gone.

Never had she travelled this far without her mother or father. They'd sometimes come to trade her father's crops for wool here. She recognised the market stand. The Apple tree looked familiar. And Maid Marian of course, everyone knew her. Rosy cheeked and gorgeous, merely thirteen years of age. She didn't join in with the dancing, simply observing with a smile until a young boy took her hand. Sir Edward, her father, rolled his eyes and she giggled, already swept away by the boy into the crowd.

Elaine turned her attention back to her current predicament. She hadn't meant to leave the village, but the music and dancing spun her thoughts away until it was too late.

Needling through the crowd of white, she found Sarah. Two men in either hand and spinning so fast it hurt Elaine's eyes.

"Can I steal her for a second?" She asked, fighting back the panic swirling through her head.

Sarah escaped and Elaine pulled her aside. She urged quickly, "How are we going to get back?"

"Back?" Sarah gaped, "I'm not going back, I'm staying with a friend in Nottingham once this festival ends."

"You never told me that!"

"I didn't realise you needed to know."

Elaine slammed her leg down, in a tantrum of frustration. "Well what am I going to do now? I told mother I wouldn't leave the village and I completely forgot! I don't know how to get back to Clun."

"It's easy. Just follow the path back." But the festival was already moved so far past Knighton hall that the forest edge had disappeared around the corner. "Or come to Nottingham with me and we'll travel back tomorrow with my friend's family."

"Mother won't like that."

"She'd rather you be safe," Sarah reasoned sensibly. Rather rushed, Sarah looked back at the festival. It's music and colour radiating the air, and Elaine knew she wanted to get back to it.

"I should start walking," Elaine decided. Already, she'd held Sarah back and her many suitors would be waiting to twirl her around again. The girls were moving fast into the age of trying to find husbands, and for Sarah it was paramount with her recently deceased father to secure financial safety.

"If you want to do that. Just please be careful."

Be careful. Yes – outlaws and beasts lived deep in the heart of Sherwood forest. Elaine wasn't sure what was worse. The tales of yellow eyes monsters, with fangs, leaching on the innocent. So many bedtime stories, that she didn't know if they were tales supposed to be about outlaws or animals.

Sarah was quick to dance back to the party, and Elaine turned with Clun in mind. The forest loomed closer with each step and so did the spike of her heart. Beating. Pumping. The image of outlaws with fangs and patchy skin came to mind. She was sure she saw one or two peeking around the edge of trees – no, that was just her imagination.

They hadn't turned any corners during the dance, had they? She truly couldn't remember and decided to carry on straight with each turn in the road. The forest grew in an arch above her and she couldn't even make out where the sun was to work out her direction. God. Was she lost? Breathe, breathe, breathe… the skies darkened, trees became silhouettes. The constant thought that her mother must be so worried about her, kept her moving. Every whistle of wind, rustle of leaves and owl hoot sent Elaine reeling. She surely hadn't been dancing this long, so why was she walking so far?

"Tom!" Someone hissed. A human voice. An angry human voice.

Elaine jumped. She hadn't heard anything but animal noises for the past hour. She spun, trying to work out where it had come from. She could only see trees. Green blurred around her as he eyes pricked to hear anything even slightly differently-

Something moved. Startled, Elaine stepped back. Without a plan, her body on instinct dashed to the side of path. Maybe if she got to the trees she could hide. Whatever it was, heavy footsteps followed after her. Pinching her eyes shut, preferring not to see whatever it was. Suddenly, a great weight slammed against her. She tumbled forward, head moving faster than her body. Rush of blood swam to her head. Barely managing to catch herself with her hands before she hit the mud.

Roughly, she was pulled around and something hard pushed against her throat. She wanted to scream, but a strange stillness took over her muscles, paralysing her in place.

"Give me all your money!"

"I don't – I don't have any money. Please."

The boy pushed the object harder into her neck.

"I said give over the money!"

He was only a boy, no older than Elaine. His hair ruffled and dirt smudged into his face. If he was an outlaw, he certainly didn't look like the pictures Elaine had painted in her head.

Behind him, another figure approached. I'm outnumbered, she thought in a stir of panic. Thump, thump, thump – was that the sound of another person approaching. No – Just the sound of her heart. She needed to think clearly. Scrunching her nose up to stop the pulsing, she focused on the scene in front of her.

The approaching figure looked similar to the boy, but older. Muscles more defined and beard growing through. Most noticeably, his eyes were a piercing blue. A brother, perhaps?

From the scruff of his neck, he tugged the younger boy on top of Elaine up, like a dog would their pup.

"Tom," the older one growled, "What are you playin' at?"

"What was I playing at?" The boy – Tom – echoed, "I was thinking about getting a decent bed tonight. Or do you wanna sleep on this floor again?"

"Oi, you were the one who ran away from home. I just followed."

Tom jabbed a finger at Elaine. It was then she noticed a knife hadn't been in his hand, but a very blunt stick. She'd been afraid for nothing. "Allan, we wanna live this way, we gotta steal from the people."

"I didn't want to live like this." the older one snapped, clearly irritation by his younger brothers' behaviour. "But she clearly don't have anything. Do you see a purse?"

Whilst they fought, Elaine considered crawling away. However, as the conversation turned to her on the floor, so did their eyes and soon both of them were staring back at her.

"We don't need money, maybe her cloak'll sell for something?"

"Tom, are you thick?"

"What?"

The older one groaned, his eyes popping from his skull. "She's a girl. How's it going to look if we go into Nottingham with a girl's muddy cloak and try and sell it."

Elaine clung the cloak around herself. Her mother had hand stitched this herself and was the most lavish thing she owned… but if it came to it, she'd gladly take it off and give it to them if it meant saving her life. Grabbing at the ties, she undid it and shook it from her shoulders. With trembling hands, she offered it to them.

Neither of them noticed for a minute, still bickering amongst themselves the way siblings do. Then, slowly Tom frowned and took note of the cloak offered to him. Viciously, he snatched it from her grip.

"Ah, see, the girls got some sense. She knows we'll kill 'er otherwise."

The older one snatched it back. "With what? A stick… here, take it." He offered it back kindly, his voice smoothing out as he spoke to her. "We don't want your cloak."

"Allan. That's good money there!"

Elaine shivered, "You're – You're not going to kill me?"

"No," Allan puffed a laugh as if the very idea was ridiculous and was now crouched in front of her. "My brother's the biggest wuss I know, I doubt he'd be able to hurt you."

Tom heaved a huff, "Shut up will you."

"Maybe don't go around, tackling teenage girls then, you idiot."

I just want to go home. Her father's warm embrace was waiting for her, as was her mother's carrot soup. She promised she'd keep it steaming for her. Edging up, she felt confident enough that they wouldn't harm her again, at least while the older brother was there. She made sure to keep him in between them as she rose from her knees.

But as she went to stand, her heel caught the back of her dress and she tripped again. Expecting the hard thud of the forest floor, Allan's arms instead caught her wrists and she remained standing.

"Uh – thank you."

"Look, I'm sorry about my brother. He's a right pain in the arse." Tom rolled his eyes and sulked off into the darkness of the trees. Elaine hoped to never see him again. "Just – uh, please don't tell anyone about this."

If she got out of here without getting killed, she'd be thanking them. Instead of saying this pathetic line, she simply nodded.

Allan mumbled a quite thanks and turned off the forest path to find his brother.

Almost alone again, Elaine spun in confusion. The fading light had gone now and all that was left was a shimmer of moonlight and stars seeping through the trees to guide her way. She didn't even know what way she'd come from.

"Do you…" Finding her voice, she tried again, "Do you know which way Clun is?"

Allan shrugged but looked around as if he'd find a sign that would give him the answer. "I'm sorry, I've got no clue. I'm not from around here. But there was a village just a bit down there that had these pink trees in it."

Delight sprung through her and every ounce of fear she'd just felt immediately evaporated. "Thank you so much!"

"Uh- don't mention it," Allan shrugged, his face darkening in shadow the further he backed away, "Good luck."

"You too," She sung happily. Not bothering to wait around to be attacked again, Elaine sped off, the wind ripping a thousand miles per hour across her ears. She had no intention of being attacked again.

As Clun Village sunk into her vision again, she looked to the sky and said a little prayer for Allan, the blue-eyed wanderer. His brother would surely get him in trouble if he wasn't careful.

#robin hood bbc #bbc robin hood #robin hood #allan a-dale #httao #fanfiction #myfanfic #myedits #how to tame an outlaw #elaine walker #alliene #aka my otp

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xmxisxforxmaybe · 5 years ago

Note

Ahk reuniting with his wife after not seeing for over thousands of years? Lots of fluff? Slight NSFW at end? Pwease?

We love our soft Ahk on this blog 💖

***

A long, long time ago…

Ahkmenrah, King of Egypt, watched from his litter as you helped some of the children finish their paper boats before setting them to sail down the Nile, an offering for the great Osiris. The children were enamored with their Queen, listening intently to every word she spoke as she explained the significance of the ritual.

Ahkmenrah knew he would find you here, amongst all the farmers instead of in a circle of nobility. You were never one to choose comfort above duty, and one of the reasons Ahk chose you for his wife was because you knew as well as he that nothing, nothing in this great land would exist without its people and its blessings from the gods.

“Hello, my love,” Ahkmenrah greeted as he walked up beside you, the children all pausing and some bowing, depending on their age and their understanding of the presence of the pharaoh himself.

“None of that, children,” Ahk said. “We are all the same when it comes to our journey to the afterlife. We must all respect the great Osiris.”

The children rushed to show the pharaoh their boats and Ahkmenrah approved of each and every one of them before they were set to sail.

Once the children rushed back to their parents, Ahkmenrah took your hand in his and kissed your temple, the beads in your hair tinkling like music as nuzzled into your neck.

“You are so beautiful, my love. Your soul shines with the splendor of Ra himself.”

“Smooth, my King. Very, very smooth,” you say, chuckling as you pulled away to place your own boat on the Nile, Ahkmenrah watching you and thanking all the gods he had found such a loving, humble queen.

***

Present day…

“And so, we had the Festival of Wag: Dedicated to the death of Osiris and honoring the souls of the deceased on their journey in the afterlife, this festival, was earmarked by people making small boats out of paper and floating their shrines on the waters of the Nile, toward the west to honor the dead.”

Ahkmenrah listened as the latest exhibit from Egypt pontificated, practicing for when it was his turn to serve as a docent during the Museum After-Dark event. Because of the appeal of the young pharaoh, the museum began expanding their Egyptian exhibit. Ahk had been joined by the mummy of a priest, a high priestess, and a craftsman and his wife. He supported them as they adjusted to their new life, and while he was grateful to be joined by more of his people, every time the museum introduced a new mummy, Ahkmenrah couldn’t help but wish it would be the mummy of his beloved wife.

It was silly of him to even hope because no trace of you had ever been found. Ahk assumed his vile brother sought to it, determined to ensure that his afterlife was filled with nothing but an aching feeling of being incomplete.

“What do you think, your majesty?” the priest, Imhoten, asked.

“I believe people will find the festival most interesting. I know it was one of my favorites.”

Imhoten smiled at Ahkmenrah, delighted his king was pleased.

“Ahk! Ahk!” Larry called, puffing for breath as he ran into the Egyptian wing.

“Larry, whatever is the matter?” Ahkmenrah rose, concern filling his face.

“You’re never—gonna—believe—what’s, well who’s—in the antiquities bay.”

Ahkmenrah ran to Larry and grasped his shoulders.

“Explain. Please, my friend,” Ahk said, his eyes full of desperation.

“It’s a mummy from your time, they think. And it’s someone of importance—maybe a queen.”

Ahkmenrah’s heart sank.

“Thank you, Larry, but do you know what the chance is that she is myqueen?”

“I’m sorry, Ahk. I guess you’re right,” Larry said, his face pulling into a frown. “I didn’t mean to get your hopes up.”

“I know,” Ahkmenrah said, smiling at his guardian. “However, duty calls. Take me to her.”

“About that …” Larry said, his eyes on the floor. “She sort of escaped.”

“Escaped?”

“The appraisers had her sarcophagus open, so when night fell, there was nothing to stop her from awakening. Atilla and his goons nearly had her but she wrangled one of their spears and shucked it straight through General Alaric’s head.”

“My gods!” Ahkmenrah said, his heartbeat picking up a bit because that sounded exactly like something you would do.

“She was last headed toward the Hall of Botanicals.”

“I will try to head her off. If I can just speak to her, I think it will calm her. Can you seal off the other entrance?”

Larry nodded and took off.

Ahkmenrah quickly made his way to the exit of the Botanical Hall, figuring that the new mummy would follow a linear path through the exhibit.

The Botanical Hall ended with an exhibit of jungle plants. It was dark and the sounds of the rainforest echoed with big beautiful birds flying from branch to branch, calling to their mates. There was also a light mist that fell to keep the plants watered.

Orchids, Passion Fruit Flowers, and Bromeliads lined the walkway, thriving in the dense recreation of their homeland, their bright colors almost serving as lights as Ahk walked slowly through the exhibit, his eyes straining to find the scared mummy. A stream ran on either side of the exhibit, littered with dozens of water lilies, and that’s where he saw her, leaning over to run her fingers through the water.

She held her wet fingers to her lips before shaking her head, obviously not caring for the taste.

Ahkmenrah spoke softly in his native tongue.

“Do not be frightened of me. I am like you.”

And that’s when she froze, her body stiffening before Ahkmenrah could see her hands tremble.

“My king?”

Ahkmenrah felt as if he had been doused with cold water, his legs frozen, unable to move, just as his lips. That voice! It could only belong to …

Y/N.

You turned and when you saw him, your husband, after all this time, your breath, so recently returned to you, escaped once more. Your hand covered your open mouth and you slowly began to walk to Ahkmenrah, praying to the gods that your legs would hold.

“Ahkmenrah,” you breathed, your voice choked and full of tears.

“Y/N,” Ahkmenrah said, finding his voice, but not yet his legs.

You continued to walk toward your husband, your heart hammering in your chest. When you finally were close enough to touch him, he moved, falling to his knees and pushing his face into your stomach, crying.

Tears fell from your cheeks as you pushed his crown off and ran your fingers through his hair, clutching his head to you.

“I have so many questions, Ahk. I am so confused,” you said through your tears.

“I can answer them all, my love,” Ahkmenrah said swiping at the tracks of tears that had fallen down his cheeks, finally rising from his knees to grasp your arms, holding you in front of him so his eyes could drink in your features.

“You are—gods, I cannot even find the words,” Ahkmenrah said, lowering his eyes and chuckling and you joined him.

“I understand. I never thought I would see you again, and here you are—just as handsome and full of life as the day hetook you from us,” you said, spitting out the reference to Kahmunrah.

“And you, sweet Y/N. It was your face I saw as Osiris came to collect my soul. And it has been your face I see each time I awaken. I have longed for you. Ached for you, my queen,” Ahkmenrah said, the desperation of his love etched across all of his features.

“Here I am,” you breathed, standing on your toes to close the last bit of space between you and your king.

Ahkmenrah’s tongue tasted just as it always had and for all you knew, the two of you were back in Egypt, the Nile quietly talking in the background as you drowned in each other’s embrace.

You made short work of Ahkmenrah’s clothes and he of yours, both of your hands moving with such practiced familiarity. The intensity of your feelings couldn’t be put into proper words, so you relied on your hands and fingers, your mouths and tongues, to fulfill the hunger your bodies had carried for something they hadn’t had in thousands of years.

“Ahk?” Larry called out cautiously, the beam from his flashlight creeping toward the tangle of Ahkmenrah and his wife.

But neither Ahkmenrah nor you heard. Nothing in the word could have torn your attention away from each other, so when Larry got an eyeful and an earful, he quickly turned and ushered the rest of the hunting party out of the Botanical Hall, locking the door behind him.

He knew he’d never see Ahkmenrah in the same innocent light again, but Larry couldn’t help but smile—his friend had found his long-lost love.

#Ahkmenrah #ahk #Ahkmenrah drabble #ahkmenrah x reader #female reader #natm ahkmenrah #NATM

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ofelia-vance · 5 years ago

Text

Okay so I wanted to keep my character count to two but this gal right here wouldn’t stop knocking at the door so here ya go. Ofelia Vance who got the lucky end of the stick when it came to naming in the family. Her mother is the town psychic, her father died from a heart attack when she was sixteen, she is 22 and running a record store. Oh yeah, and her mom 100% believes that she’s going to die before her thirtieth birthday.

Name: Ofelia Saffron Vance Nicknames: Effie, Fi, Fifi Age: 22 Birthday: May 1, 1998 Occupation: Co-owner of Bluebell Records

@frostfordstart

Family

Mother: Mimi Vance Father: Benjamin Vance (deceased) Siblings: Disco Vance (twin brother)

Information:

Born thirteen minutes after her twin brother, Ofelia is a native of Frostford and has never left the state of Alabama.

Her father grew up in love with music and started his own record store straight out of college. It didn't bring in a lot of money, but it was enough to keep the lights on. He and his family had been in Frostford for generations.

He was 25 when Mimi Blue rolled into town. She was an import, an orphan, and a psychic. She pitched her trailer in Frostford for the summer and set up shop telling fortunes. Most of her customers came to her just for the fun of it. Benjamin Vance went expecting to have something he could laugh with his friends about later.

When he arrived and put out his hand, Mimi clutched it gently in hers, traced the lines gently and smiled. 'Well you took some time getting to me,' she said.

Less than a year later they were married. Effie felt often that her father was more indulging of Mimi's profession than a believer. Certain things she spoke of would fall into place. A windfall of good luck, or the news of an impending storm on the way. She delighted in telling pregnant women what they were having.

Effie and her brother grew up with her version of parenting. Birth charts, palm readings, certain crystals hung around their necks on certain days. While Disco was able to escape the worst of it, Effie was not, because she was sadled with the worst of her mother's superstitions.

Her mother believed, based on an old reading, that there was loss sewn into her fortune. She urged her husband to doctors at any sign of illness, and was constantly vigilant with Effie. She referenced Effie's short life line, the persistent evidence in card readings that misfortune lurked around the corner. At times this was suffocating and drove a deep wedge between mother and daughter.

Ofelia had the same love for music as her father. She learned how to play the guitar from a very young age. She could often be found behind the front desk with earbuds in while she did her homework. Her relationship with her father never wavered. They both had cooler, more logical heads.

Her strongest relationship however would always be with her twin brother. They were joined at the hip and their mother often said that they'd split one soul between them.

When the teen years hit, Effie started acting out more. In school, she was known as the psychic's daughter. Or the Witch's daughter. Or even as a witch herself. She set out to distance herself from that image as quickly and as distinctly as possible. Several nights she was brought to the front door by the police for being caught smoking or drinking. Her grades plummeted despite her previously being a bright student.

At sixteen, on the night she first climbed the water tower her father died of a heart attack. The grief only helped to drive her and her mother further apart. To Mimi it was proof of her fortune, to Effie it was nothing more than tragedy.

The store was run through her mother's name for the next two years, until Effie could graduate and claim it as her own. Instead of going to college she worked at Bluebell's.

She still lives today with her mother, though there are plans to move out shortly and get her own place. They are an odd pairing at town festivals, because despite their troubles they can click into place with one another. Effie would be the first to tear someone apart for making fun of her mother.

She is allergic to bees and constantly carries around insect repellant in her purse.

As a teenager worked many, many odd jobs. Worker at the Bishop Farm, lifeguard, waitress, dog walker, etc., etc.

If anyone asks her to read their fortune, she will gladly do a bullshit version of one for an exorbatant price.

Despite her questioning demeanor, she is often wearing the crystal jewelry her mother makes her and the two tend to share clothes.

Wanted Connections:

Honestly just love the girl, or hate her. Give me the friends, the enemies, the crushes, the people that she has screwed over and more.

#intro

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haruhi1087 · 5 years ago

Text

The Sound of Silence

an Erasermic retelling of Orpheus and Eurydice. Studying myths and figured rewriting them would be a good way to do that, so here y’all go! I expound a little, but for the most part it’s me rewriting all the details of the myths just with anime characters subbed in for the main roles.

A cloud of gloom hung over the festivities, but Yamada tried to ignore it and focus on his friends dancing to his music, to Aizawa smiling softly in the distnace. Despite the happiness that should have accompanied the occasion, however, a tension was present in each tight smile and every worried glance.

Hymen had come to their wedding, a presence that should be a blessing to their union, yet the god hadn’t stayed for Yamada’s song. There had been no happy omen delivered or a sacred speech or even an approving glance. Not only that, but the god’s torch had wavered in the wind, it’s flame flickering and almost disappearing at some moments, at others filling the guests’ eyes with smoke.

None of those were good signs.

Yet Aizawa was here with him, and they were married, and Yamada couldn’t help but rejoice. He picked up his lyre and began to sing again, watching as his husband chatted quietly in the back of the gathering with some well-wishers, then walked into the garden with his friends.

They were married.

Whatever the omens meant, they would face them together.

But then there was a scream coming from the garden, and Yamada was running as fast as he could, his legs tripping over themselves as he raced to his love.

Aizawa lay there, limp on the ground. His face that had smiled at Yamada merely minutes before was now pale with death, his ankle punctured by serpents’ teeth.

Yamada fell to his knees.

This… this couldn’t be happening. They were supposed to face the omen together! Not…

Not alone.

He cried out in anguish, falling on top of his love, tracing the warmth as it fled from his touch.

He filled the heavens with his cries, dragged the world into mourning as his voice called out for his love again and again.

He wouldn’t let it end like this!

Yamada buried his love in tears, and then began his journey. He would find Aizawa again, even if he had to leave the realm of the living to do so.

The tunnel to Styx was darn and damp, the walls crowding around him as he brushed against their mossy sides. All he could hear was his breath as he descended, treading carefully lest he slip and fall.

Smoke drifted around him, gradually growing thick and thicker, clawing down his throat and making it hard to breathe. Shadows drifted through the smoke, pale-glimmering phantoms that warned him to turn back. He couldn’t follow their advice. Not when he was still separated from his love.

Yamada’s eyes watered as he entered the cavern to the underworld. He searched and searched, climbing over rocks and through rivers, dodging the clinging grasps of tortured souls. And then he found them. Persephone and Pluto, the king of the shadowy realm.

Yamada swallowed, slowly unstrapping his lyre from his back. His voice had never failed him before. Surely it wouldn’t fail him now.

And so he sang.

“Gods of the dark subterranean world, where every mortal must descend! Despite nature’s law against entering the winding ways of forbidden truths, if you will hear my plea, I have come not from a curious heart to view Tartarus’ gloomy depths, nor do I desire fame from strangling the three necks of your Medusan Monster with its vile snakes. I have come from grief at the death-poison that a viper spread through my love’s veins, cutting off his years.

If I could bear this wound, I would, but I have been conquered by Cupid, a deity well-renowned across the word, and I doubt not that he is known here as well, unless the tale that you, Lord Hades, were urged by his shaft to steal your wife Persephone. Love has joined you just as it joins others. So I beg of you and your love, by Styx and its void, silence, and shades, renew my love Aizawa’s life-thread!

You control all things, and though we marry on earth for a short time only, and slowly or swiftly must come to your realm, this will be our final home and we will dwell here for as long as you wish, your mastery over us is unquestioned. She will be yours! But I ask that first she will have lived a full life. I beg of you, grant me what to you is a mere few days! If not, if the fates prevent my wish, then my constancy commands me to remain here with her, and you shall rule over two souls having taken merely the one!”

Yamada’s voice echoed in the caverns, ringing smoothly throughout the realm. Bloodless ghosts wept around him. Tantalus’ fingers froze, pausing in their search for water. Ixion’s wheel stood still. The vultures spared Tityus’ liver, the Belides sieve-like bowls sat still, and even Sisyphus sat idly on his rock.

Fame was conquered.

The fierce Eumenides sat, their cheeks wet with tears, and neither Persephone nor Hades could deny his prayers.

Persephone summoned Aizawa, who approached with slow, limping steps, his ankle still stiff and sore.

Yamada ran to him. His arms wrapped around the still cold form, holding him tight and murmuring grateful whispers into his hair. He would never take even a second for granted. Not again.

Hades pronounce that Aizawa could return and they could ascend the path to earth once more, but that if Yamada turned to glance backwards, then Aizawa would once more be forced to descend.

Tearing his eyes from his love made Yamada’s soul churn, but they carefully picked their way through the rocks and back toward the entrance.

Each step terrified him. Each tug of the current, each rock that shifted under his weight, each shadow that stretched toward his form—they were all threats that could steal his love once more.

He had lost Aizawa all because he had failed to watch him! Failed to pay attention to the threats around his love! How could… how could he trust that he would make his way to the surface unharmed?

Just one glimpse, one look to be sure he was still there, still safe…

And he was falling.

Yamada ran. He ran as fast as he could, stretched out his arms, grasping at Aizawa’s hands, but all his fingers clutched was air. He had to rescue him! Had to hold him one more time!

Aizawa’s eyes held only love, no reproach as he shouted farewell, and then disappeared.

Yamada could barely hear the whispered voice.

Aizawa was gone.

He’d fallen to Hades’ realm once more, and was truly lost.

Yamada stood frozen, as if in fear at the sight of Cerberus’ triple necks chained to the floor. His husband’s absence filled him with a terror from which there was no hope of escape. He was petrified, like Olenos, changed completely to stone from the guilt of what he’d done.

Unfortunate Lethaea! You were boastful of your beauty and separated from the lover with whom you were once united, now merely two stones upon mount Ida, moist with tears.

Yamada ran to the ferryman, he begged and pleaded for passage once again, that he could at least stay here in death, but he was denied even that hope.

For seven days he sat upon Death’s river bank, motionless as he stared out over the waters, heedless to the spirits that passed by him. In his misery he was numb to the world, fed by his grief, anxiety, and tears.

Without hope, bewailing his fate and the pitiless gods, Yamada slowly wound his way back through the tunnel, up its steep slopes, and onto the mountain peaks, the chill of the north wind buffeting his very soul.

The sun rose over the world, running its cours across the watery Pisces three times, and still Yamada did not leave—could not leave.

Aizawa was lost, and therefore all company was lost. He would spurn the world. Only Shirakumo from Thrace knew where he was.

#retelling myths #bnha #erasermic #aizawa shouta #aizawa x hizashi #yamada hizashi #eraserhead #present mic #fanfic

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leowenila · 5 years ago

Text

Escaping the Danger Zone Part 5

Hello! This part has been rewritten about seven times and finally last night I finished the final draft because ever since a week ago when I received my first hateful review in my inbox it has been difficult coming up with ideas. But thank you again to the ones who still read and like this, five parts in! Here is the fifth part of “Escaping the Danger Zone,” please enjoy!

Light grey snow clouds remained present high in the sky as both trauma surgeons rested in the comfort of their warm apartment. On an occasion Owen heard loud shoving noises from the kitchen as his fiancee searched multiple locations for holiday decorations. Seconds after coffee finished brewing, the man removed two solid colored mugs and walked into their bedroom to find Amelia standing in the closet’s doorway as she stood on the front part of her feet and her exposed small waist. Owen smiled at the sight in front of him before engaged in speaking.

“Amelia, please let me help you.” Owen sweetly said to Amelia after he placed the warm ceramic mugs on the television stand beside him. The woman ignored his comment and continued to search for items.

“Did you never celebrate Christmas in all the years that you’ve lived here? You literally have no decorations in this whole apartment.” Amelia infuriatingly commented to Owen about the lack of decorations her soon-to-be-husband had. The male trauma surgeon watched as the brunette at last stood normally and placed her hands on her sides to breathe in and out.

“I spent most of my Christmases working at the hospital or if I wasn’t there; I would drive to my Mom’s place.To spend it with her, Nate and Megan. The more years that went by while you were apparently dead it became more unbearable to celebrate the holidays alone. Amelia; why are you so adamant on celebrating this year?” Owen suggested to Amelia after retrieving his warm mug and drank the contents.

“Don’t you dare bring my six year disappearance into this conversation. You did not once look for me, and if you did, you did a terrible job Owen Hunt! Now where are the stupid decorations?” Amelia shouted back at Owen as she became more angry with the man across the room. He confusingly looked at her before he tears came to his eyes after hearing the last part of her statement by noticing the distress in her voice and the unknown.

“I looked for you every single day, Amelia. And when I came back home to Seattle, I suffered for a long time. Alone. Because I felt like I didn’t do enough. Didn’t search hard enough, didn’t protect you when I promised Derek before we were deployed, that I wasn’t a good enough soldier for losing another major in the platoon. Don’t you think that if I could have rescued you sooner, I would have?”

“You think you had suffered alone? Try having two men involuntary give you drugs causing you to nearly overdose twice which formed into an opioid addiction you will always live with or them punching you so hard in the side of your abdomen that dying would feel better than the pain their blows caused. That is suffering! That is what it feels like you were not a good enough soldier. I need a meeting.” Amelia tearfully confessed before she quickly walked past Owen and grabbed his car keys hanging on the wall along with her sweater, then slammed the apartment door shut behind her. On her way out the door, Owen heard a sniffle escape from Amelia’s nose indicating that she had started to cry but chose not to say anything more after already saying too much. He internally kicked himself as he slid down and sat with his back against the wall with his head in his hands.

Hours had passed until the male trauma surgeon heard his door open as he silently rested on the giant bed with a book in his hands. He remained heavily engrossed in his book but discreetly watched the brunette as she walked through the doorway. With several plastic bags that contained various items and a box under her arm, Amelia set them all down on the kitchen table before hanging the car keys back on the shelf where they originally rested, she sighed to herself before walking into the master bedroom.

“There weren’t as many good choices in ornaments or lights because it’s so late in the season; but I tried to find at least some of the necessities. Along with a miniature tree.” The woman informed the male trauma surgeon once she had seen him place his book down from the original position. He smiled at her which caused her to smile back at him.

“I am sorry for being inconsiderate, Amelia. You have every right to want to celebrate, and I want to celebrate with you.” Owen admitted after apologized to Amelia who started walking towards him. Then she removed her moccasins from her small feet to expose her black socks and without warning, straddled Owen’s larger form and rested her cold hands on his chest before she started to repeatedly kiss his lips.

“It’s okay, Owen. Now help me put this tree up so we can return to making out.” The brunette suggestively requested of the man in between their identical moans and her firm kisses. Both of them found it difficult to unlock lips and continued with their rhythm, before it was her who released herself and stood to her feet again to remove the glasses from the nearby nightstand and put them on her face while Owen walked out to the living room.

Green pine needles quickly scattered around the wooden apartment floor as Owen spread each branch out individually as Amelia opened the box of bright lights for the tree while in the background played holiday music to bring a festive feeling for the evening. Before the engaged couple became too focused on finally decorating, a knock sounded on his door.

“Who could possibly be knocking at the door this late?” The male trauma surgeon scoffed before he stood up from the sitting position he was in while the brunette stood back to see who the possible visitors. Once the door opened Amelia suddenly heard a familiar feminie squeal of one she hasn’t heard in nearly a decade as the woman embraced Owen.

“Merry Christmas, Eeyore!” The younger Hunt sibling shrieked loudly as she hugged her brother tightly before stepping back to look at him, a trait she formed from their mother. As she glanced over him, Nathan Riggs gave Owen a brotherly hug and reciprocated the holiday cheer. Amelia watched on silently before Megan took notice of her.

“Uh, big brother Is that who I think it is?”

Owen and Megan looked at each other as Amelia smiled at the redheaded siblings, one standing in disbelief and one with a proud smile upon his face as his sister and longtime best friend turned soon to be wife reunited after several years.

“Megan; this is Amelia Shepherd.” Owen jokingly bragged as he walked over and placed his arms around Amelia, and acted as though Megan never met the brunette.

“Oh my gosh, I missed you! Are you real? Are you really hear?!” Megan cheerfully exclaimed to Amelia as they hugged each other. Tears collected in the brunette’s eyes as she looked up at Owen before the redhead broke the hug, the two smiled at one another. Once the embrace was released the New Zealander walked over and also gave Amelia a hug.

“Happy to see you alive, Shepherd.”

The week passed by quickly as Megan and Nathan made their temporary housing in a hotel room near Owen and Amelia’s apartment complex, the two couples frequently shared meals together and celebrated holiday cheer. The male trauma surgeon gave both his sister and brother in law surgical privileges so the other two eager surgeons could feel as though they were home. Days passed by until the evening of Christmas landed on the calendar causing every member of their group to grow excited.

In their master bedroom, Amelia completed the packing luggage process as Owen confirmed that every item in the home was shut off to save on the appliances livelihood, as the almost newlyweds finished the final steps before leaving a knock sounded on the door revealing Megan and Nathan.

“You ready to see Mom and give her the shock of her life, Eeyore?” The cheerful redhead questioned her brother as she made her way inside of the apartment, hand in hand with her husband.

“I think you should be asking Amelia that instead of me.” Owen teased with his sister before Amelia handed him his black luggage while she carried the other before they shut their apartment door behind them.

Thank you so much for reading the fifth part!

#seasidescorsone #amelia shepherd #owen hunt #omelia fanfiction #escaping the danger zone

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lostinfic · 5 years ago

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6. Boston, Fall

Summary: He’s photographed devastated war zones, refugee camps and child soldiers. She writes for magazines about luxurious resorts in exotic places and five-star hotels in glamorous cities. For both of them travel is an escape, but he’s had enough of this grim reality, and she’s had enough of this disconnected fantasy. Perhaps together they can find something in between, something real, and stop running from themselves. Each season, a new destination and a chance to grow closer.

Pairing: Alec Hardy x Hannah Baxter Rating: Mature~ish (for now) Word count: 5k

A/N: Many thanks to those who commented on the chapter addition I posted this week, it felt really good to see people still interested in this story despite my absence. You’re the best!

Tumblr | Ao3

He couldn’t believe he was doing this again: waiting for her, unannounced, in front of the cruise terminal. In Boston, today. But it was different because she’d gone to his exhibition in New York and wrote a message in the guestbook, and that knowledge emboldened him.

He zipped his North Face jacket up to his chin against the cold sea breeze. And waited.

Finally she came out, leather jacket, pink travel mug and hair in lazy curls.

“Baxter,” he shouted, his voice betrayed his excitement, and he immediately buried his hands in his pockets, affecting a casual air. With a head tilt, he beckoned her closer.

Her eyes widened at the sight of him then narrowed to a furrowed brow. “What are you doing here?”

She didn’t look as happy to see him as he’d hoped. His stomach clenched.

“I hitched a ride with a mate,” he said.

“To come see me?”

“Nah, I’m a Red Sox fan.”

Sarcasm to muffle his beating heart.

A small smile appeared on her red lips which she hid behind her thick tartan scarf.

“Miss Baxter!” An Asian man jogged up to them. In his white and aqua tracksuit, the cruise line colors, he looked like a figure skater. The too-wide smile and forced eye contact betrayed his marketing position even before Hannah introduced him.

“Jeffrey Allen, the marketing liaison on board. And this is my— photographer, Alec Hardy.”

“Delighted to meet you, Mr. Hardy.” Jeffrey shook his hand with too much enthusiasm. “Now, Miss Baxter, Mr. Hardy, Festival Cruises is happy to provide its esteemed guests with complimentary shuttles to the heart of historical Boston. You will be boarding one, yes?”

“Actually, we—” Hannah began, but Jeffrey pushed her towards a big charter bus. With mild panic in her eyes, Hannah grabbed Hardy’s sleeve and tugged him along.

He followed her to the very back of the bus. She slouched down, pressing her knees against the seat in front of her. She apologized for yawning, she hadn’t slept well.

“Sea sick?”

She shrugged. “How did you know I was here?”

“Your whole life’s online.”

“Don’t you know you shouldn’t believe everything you read on the Internet?”

“That’s right, you didn’t post about seeing my expo yesterday. Not good enough for you?”

She toyed with the lid of her travel mug, twisting it left and right, then taking a sip.

“So you saw my message in the guestbook.”

“I did.”

“There was a photo of me in your exhibition.”

She sought his gaze. She wanted him to say more about the photo. One photo out of fifty. Aesthetically pleasing. That’s all. Or so he tried to convince himself. Her eyes mirrored his own anxious expectations. He wished she’d say more about his exhibition. What did she think? Why did she feel shaken?

She looked away first, bit the corner of her thumb nail. She flipped back to teasing.

“Besides, you need to pay if you want exposure on my blog.” She bumped him lightly with her shoulder.

He had this feeling again, of something on the tip of his tongue, something about her that escaped him every time.

Jeffrey came on the bus too, and they both groaned at the sight of him.

Yesterday, she’d skipped a special shore excursion to visit the World Press Photo event, she suspected Jeffrey would try to oversee her work today.

The man sat beside her across the aisle and monopolized her attention with talks of museum discounts. She listened with a tight, polite smile.

Hardy observed the other passengers, most of them silver-haired, carrying canes and walkers. It wasn’t adding up. He and Hannah may be very different types of travelers, but from her articles, he’d gotten the impression they both preferred to avoid the main tourist attractions to experience local culture. She ate street food, talked to people, danced to their music. This didn’t seem like her no matter how much they paid. But then again, he shouldn’t believe everything he reads online.

“Didn’t think you were the senior cruise type,” Hardy said, interrupting Jeffrey.

“I’m looking for a husband,” she joked.

“Preferably one on the brink of death?”

“And who loves to travel.”

She grinned, and his stomach unknotted.

“Well actually,” Jeffrey began, unprompted and unwelcome, “the average age of cruise passengers is lower than you would think.” He lectured them on the advantages of sea travel for the whole family.

Hardy rolled his eyes.

“I like to think of it as sampling the best of each port of call,” Hannah summed up.

“While dumping a ton of waste in the harbor,” Hardy said.

Jeffrey squinted his eyes at him. “You’re not one of our esteemed guests,” he realized.

He would have thrown Hardy off the bus if it weren’t on the highway. Hardy couldn’t care less, but Hannah’s glare stopped a lecture of his own.

“Don’t make me lose this job too,” she whispered to him.

Soon, the shuttle stopped near a visitor center. Mid-morning Boston was busy and cloudy. the scent of last night’s rain hung in the air, pigeons bathed in puddles. Shop windows sported pumpkins, real or painted or fashioned into garlands.

Hannah wanted better coffee than the one on board and headed for a coffee shop chain to refill her mug. Hardy coaxed her instead towards a local place advertising Fair-trade coffee.

Seven years ago, he’d photographed children harvesting coffee beans in terrible conditions. Seven years later people still didn’t care. Perhaps if he’d stayed in New York he could have convinced a few more people to choose their coffee brand wisely.

He’d meant to pay for Hannah’s beverage— an indication of his intentions— but work had clogged his mind again, and he found her handing him a cup instead.

They stood on the cobblestone pavement, unable to settle on an activity to do, neither wanting to make a decision the other might dislike. They had both been to Boston before. “As you wish,” was uttered more than once without any action following.

Hardy ran a hand through his hair and shifted his weight. Now that he was in front of her, he didn’t know what to say. It had seemed so easy in Singapore.

“I should probably get some work done,” Hannah said. “Check out a few landmarks, take some photos… “

“Right, yeah, don’t want you to be in trouble with Jeffrey. Sorry, I shouldn’t have come.”

Jeffrey interrupted them once more, coming out of the visitor center with a handful of brochures. He was really pushing for Hannah to join one of their guided tours.

Hardy opened a rideshare app on his cellphone. He had to drop by his friend’s place first, get his overnight bag back, but he might make it to New York City in time for Alys Tomlinson’s conference.

“Are you alright?” Hannah asked with a frown.

He hadn’t noticed Jeffrey’s departure.

“I know it’s not your thing, if you’d rather go…” she trailed off.

“Do you want me to?”

“I suppose not. Look, once that’s out of the way—” she waved the brochures— “we can go somewhere nice, yeah? Hang out.”

Maybe it was the caffeine finally kicking in, but there was a light dancing in her eyes as she said this, things promised but unspoken. His heart sped up like a puppy’s tail.

Hardy grabbed a random brochure out of her hands: the Freedom Trail. He studied the map. “This way.” He hurried away with long strides. “C’mon, Baxter, before Jeffrey comes back.” She laughed and caught up to him.

The trail started in Boston Common. In the park, ancient elm and oak trees fanned out their shades of red and orange. Dead leaves crunched under Hannah’s ankle boots as they walked among morning joggers and giggling preschoolers. They picked the shortest way across the park, took a wrong turn and ended up at the Frog Pond. The water surface reflected the cloudy sky, still but for the brush of weeping willow branches. Their pace slowed to a stroll.

“What did you mean earlier, about losing your job?” he asked.

“Well, I lost my job at Elite Travelers because of you and your bloody work ethic.” She poked him in the chest, and he crossed his arms.

After she’d followed his advice and exposed the magazine’s censorship, she was fired. That was only the beginning. Every other media part of the same conglomerate shunned her too. Magazines, newspapers, websites and TV shows she’d worked with before, now didn’t reply to her emails and phone calls. A secretary she’d befriended finally explained HR had blacklisted her.

As for hotels, anything part of Group Peregrine, the Mahal Kita Resort owners, became off-limits too.

“Don’t blame me for your shitty boss,” Hardy replied, though he did feel a smidge guilty.

“I know, I was taking the piss. I thought I could be like you, you know. That it’d be good for my reputation, I’d be credible, get more interesting assignments.”

“You did it for the wrong reason.”

“Alright, don’t worry, I did it for the people of Pulau Kesuma too. It can be both. I just mean I thought good deeds were supposed to be rewarded.”

“Give it time,” he replied lamely.

The cruise line’s offer was the first she’d received in weeks. They needed her to rejuvenate their image. “And I’m always up for a challenge,” she said, and he smiled at her determination.

“But you don’t like it.”

“I prefer to focus on the positive aspects.”

“Thought you were a journalist.”

“Exactly. I’m neutral. Just because something doesn’t appeal to me, doesn’t mean it wouldn’t appeal to someone else.”

“Fair enough,” he said.

“Really, I thought you’d argue more.”

He would have, but he was trying to make a good impression.

He told her he’d sent her article on Pulau Kesuma to Ellie who had translated it in Indonesian for the island population. “The maids you interviewed asked about you. Did you stay in touch?”

“They did?” She smiled, genuinely touched. “I haven’t… I meant to… did you stay in touch with anyone?”

“I try… I’m not great at it. I tell people letting me take photos will help, I give them hope. I have a responsibility to see that help through.”

“I don’t think I could ever do that. The responsibility…” She blew out a puff of air.

“It’s not all bad. I lived with this family in Kuwait, about— well, early in my career. I was young, the mother she fussed over me. She still writes to me. Yesterday, the youngest son had his first child, and they sent me a picture.”

He showed her the picture, saved on his phone, of Omar with a baby in his arms. Hannah leaned closer until their shoulders touched. Her weight against him made him forget what he wanted to say. She glanced at the photo, then looked up at him.

“You’re a good person,” she said.

He shrugged, embarrassed. He never helped as much as he wanted to, but it felt like false modesty to say so. In fact, the retrospective of his work in New York made him uneasy, and he was relieved to escape it for a day. But he knew he should have stayed to talk about the issues he’d photographed rather than go and have fun.

He was about to offer they sit on a bench and he’d buy her a pastry to apologize for her lost job, when he spotted Jeffrey, in his bright suit, on the other side of the carousel.

“I bet he’s spying on me,” Hannah said in a whisper. “We have to shake him off.”

They slowly backtracked and hid behind the trunk of a large tree.

Hardy looked at the Freedom Trail map. “We need to head that way, but he’ll see us. So we take this road to go around and exit the park.”

“Ok. Got it. Ready?”

Hannah grabbed his hand, and it surprised him so, he froze. She tugged on his arm. His legs remembered how to move, and they made a run for it. They dashed from tree to tree, laughing.

He’d once done the same to dodge bullets. This was much more fun.

Once they’d put enough distance between Jeffrey and themselves, they slowed down and Hannah let go of his hand.

They exited the park and reached the next stop on the trail, the Granary Burying Ground. Samuel Adams and Paul Revere were both buried somewhere beneath the time-worn tombstones. Neither Hardy nor Hannah could remember what made these men famous. As they kept walking, Hannah read out loud about the landmark while Hardy guarded her from colliding with anyone.

Two more landmarks and Hannah realized she’d forgotten to take photos for her blog. Hardy took hold of her camera and swiftly snapped photos of her in front of an old brown-brick building.

“Oi, I wasn’t ready.”

“It’s called street photography.”

They strode the streets, still looking over their shoulders for Jeffrey. The imaginary threat pushed adrenaline through their blood. They slalomed between tourists. Their breaths came quick and cloudy.

Old State House.

Quincy Market.

Hardy took shortcuts through private properties. “The trick is to look like you know where you’re going.” She found it thrilling. Their eyes gleamed, their cheeks flushed.

Paul Revere’s House.

Old North Church.

Inevitably, they talked about US politics, but also about history and their work. What they said didn’t matter. They were like two dogs sniffing and chasing each other. A test of sorts. A trial run.

The few women he’d been with since his separation— accidents, convenience— they didn’t feel like this. The gravitational pull of Hannah threw him off course. She tugged at the very center of him. He knew, and perhaps she did too, that they were on the edge of something great. Something all-encompassing. There would be no going back. But parts of her were wild and unknown. Like a wounded beast hides in the shadows. And so he photographed her, as she walked, as she curled her hair around her finger, as she looked at the city. Moments, seconds, like puzzle pieces that might reveal her heart to him. A hint to give him the courage to step over the edge.

In an hour, they reached the last stop on the trail: the Bunker Hill Monument. They stared at the towering granite obelisk.

“I prefer the ones in Egypt,” Hardy said.

Hannah wanted to climb the 295 steps leading to the top. The view would be worth the effort, but a sign by the door warned people with heart conditions. He stalled.

“What are you afraid of, old man?” Hannah teased.

He bristled at that. He couldn’t tell her about his pacemaker precisely so she wouldn’t overthink the age gap and see him as old and sick.

“I’m not old, I’m experienced.”

She snorted a laugh. “At least you’ve still got all your hair… For now.”

“I’ll show ye, Baxter.”

He opened the door to the obelisk and let her go first under the pretense of chivalry.

A narrow spiral staircase led to the top. Humidity beaded on the cool stone walls. By step 60, they started building up a sweat and gradually shed layers: scarf, coat, jacket, collars were opened.

Over the weeks, Hardy had grown accustomed to the foreign object in his chest, but now his hand flitted to his heart every minute.

“Are you alright?” Hannah inquired, noticing the gesture.

“Fine. Keep going.”

“I need a rest anyway.”

Pity. He gritted his teeth. How could he hope to ever get back in the field if he couldn’t even climb a couple hundred steps. No one would pause for him Syria.

“You’re wearing a suit.” Hannah observed now that he’d removed his windbreaker.

“That bad? I had it for the conference.”

“No, I like it. You made an effort.”

She slid her fingers along his collar to straighten it.

“I almost brought you flowers too,” he said and immediately regretted it— she would think he’s old-fashioned.

“Next time,” she replied with a teasing smile.

That affirmation spurred him on. He resumed climbing before he’d caught his breath. Two steps at a time. Proving a point. His heart raced but at a steady rate. The pacemaker held on.

“295!”

The top of the obelisk was a tight space of gray brick, with only four tiny windows under a high, peak ceiling.

Hardy sagged on the sill of the closest window, and Hannah squeezed next to him. She raked her hair back from her forehead, sending a whiff of floral shampoo his way.

Their panting breaths on the glass fogged the panorama. Hannah drew a smiley face with her fingertip and gave it a little beard. She grinned at him.

The fog faded and they stared at the Charles River and its cable bridge beyond the tiny squares of brown bricks. There were other windows with a different vista, but Hannah was here, honey eyes on the horizon, skin flushed with exertion, warm against his sleeve.

They talked in low, dreamy voices about the highest places they’ve visited: the Petronas towers, a volcano in Hawaii, Lake Titicaca, a rooftop bar in Hong Kong, a suspension bridge in the Alps. Up in the clouds, where humans seem small compared to nature and one’s life inconsequential.

They shared a bottle of water, and only moved when other people arrived.

Hannah begged him to let her take a good photo this time. She meant one over which she had control.

“The light’s rubbish in here.”

“I trust your skills. Just let me fix my face, must be all shiny.” She pulled a pocket mirror out of her purse and dabbed her forehead. “If I’d known you were coming, I’d have washed my hair.”

“Don’t worry, you look great.”

“Really?” she asked coyly.

“You know you do.”

“Yeah, but I didn’t know you agreed.”

“I came all the way here, didn’t I?”

“For my pretty eyes?” She fluttered her eyelashes.

“So, are we ever getting to Fenway Park?” he asked with feigned impatience.

“Knob.”

He’d been called that before, but never this fondly.

Hannah reapplied red lipstick. As she smacked her lips together, she glanced at him over the mirror. A sultry look that roused butterflies in his stomach.

He couldn’t tell whether she was serious or messing with him. She’d been straightforward about sex in Singapore, if she still wanted him, she would simply say so, wouldn’t she?

He raised the camera, and, with practiced ease, she flashed the smile he’d seen many times before on Instagram. He didn’t care for it. After a few poses, she asked him to join her for a selfie and his indulgence stopped there.

“Hungry?” she asked.

“Starving.”

Hannah had a list of trendy restaurants in Boston, and he already dreaded the place she would choose. He scowled when she guided him towards a tiki bar, but the restaurant she wanted was at the back of it.

“Half my job is knowing the coolest restaurants.”

“At least Jeffrey won’t find us here.”

Large garage-style doors opened on a courtyard, ensconced in climbing ivy, where small fireplaces and blankets kept the clients warm. It smelled like Guy Fawkes night and camping, green and smokey.

They arrived past one o’clock, tail end of the lunch rush, so a table was available. They sat at the corner of the table to see through the archway offering a view of the river.

The sun had come out, Hannah traded her scarf and leather jacket for a blanket loosely draped over her arms. She wore a tunic underneath with a wide boat neckline, and he was struck by the desire to cover her neck with kisses.

He pulled himself together while the man-bunned waiter explained today’s specials. Hannah asked the waiter what he recommended, and soon they were talking about the creative process behind the menu and his vision for the future of catering. She was fishing for some quirky details to share on her blog, and it fascinated Hardy, her easy smile, the effect of her charm on other people. And on himself. He was just one of many. She returned her attention to him, and the misgivings evaporated.

“Sorry about that. I’m all yours now. What will you have?”

Wherever he traveled, he ate the food laid out in front of him, pigeon stew or roasted guinea pig, he made do and thanked his hosts, and yet in Western restaurants, he became picky. Here, the menu offered only six meals, each one elaborate. Hannah couldn’t decide between duck arancinis and wild boar noodles, and thus his dilemma was solved; he ordered one of the two so she could taste both. They ended up eating out of each other’s plate, a level of intimacy he hadn’t expected to reach so fast.

The coziness of the setting enveloped him. The excellent food, the laughter. He wished the afternoon would never end, but she had to be back aboard the ship at 4pm.

The ticking clock boosted his courage. He touched the tattoo on her inner wrist, a simple black outline of a star or flower, he couldn’t tell. “What’s the story?” he asked. It was a blatant excuse to touch her, and they both knew it. Keeping his thumb there, stroking the delicate skin, filled him with a heady sort of audacity.

“It was supposed to be a compass. Never pick the cheapest tattoo parlor, it’s cheap for a reason. The bloke got bored halfway through, didn’t even write the cardinal points. I used to add them by hand.” She laughed then lowered her eyes. “My best friend, Erin, she got the same so I never had the heart to have it changed.”

“Erin? Is that your friend who passed away? The one you wanted to travel with.”

“Yeah… I was just thinking about her yesterday, your photos they… stirred things up.”

She looked like she wanted to say more, she stroked her collarbone as her eyes flitted between him and the river. He wanted to take a photo to study later and decipher.

“Anyway, how do you know about that?” she asked.

“I read your blog.”

“All of it?”

“You sent me a link.”

“To one article.”

Her knees rested against his under the table.

“You’re a great writer.”

“Really?” she asked, this time no coyness colored her voice.

He leaned on his elbows, towards her, and told her about the articles he’d preferred. The things he’d learned even about cities where he had been. He didn’t feel as out of his depth now, it was professional almost, except her legs were brushing together and it sent a thrill up his spine.

She had written less in-depth articles in the last year as her followers favored shorter pieces with many pictures, and affiliated links generated revenue. She confessed she missed it, sitting with one person and having a real conversation and then finding the words to convey the moment to her readers.

They ordered deserts, despite feeling full; it was a day for gluttony. She insisted on feeding him a piece of pumpkin pie.

She was a great conversationalist, always a funny quip or an unexpected question. She wanted to know people. Yet, when the tables turned, she used humor and flirting to deflect.

He thought of developing photos in a dark room. She revealed herself slowly, like an image in the tray of developer chemical. But if a photo was left in that chemical too long, it turned black, and so did Hannah eclipse herself if pressed too much. However, it was in Hardy’s nature to persist, to question, to get to the heart of things. Of people.

“Why didn’t you tell me you were coming to New York?”

“You didn’t tell me you were coming to Boston.”

“Fair enough.”

“Kind of silly, isn’t it? I mean we obviously— I think— wanted to see each other. Right?”

“Yeah.”

Hannah’s hand was so close to his. Her pink fingernails scratched at the buttons on his cuff. He opened his hand: an invitation.

“I’m glad I came here today,” he said.

“But you haven’t seen the Red Sox.”

“I’ve seen everything I wanted to see,” he answered, looking into her eyes.

His hand was still splayed opened, and he waited with a lump in his throat. She looked at him as if assessing his honesty. Finally, she slipped her fingers into his palm, and he closed his hand over them. Hannah smiled and tucked her chin in her shoulder closest to him, as if trying to hide her joy.

“I’m glad you came too,” she admitted in a quiet voice.

Affection overwhelmed him, and he impulsively kissed her forehead.

They ordered cups of tea, and continued holding hands as they drank. Her touch warmed him more than Earl Grey.

Clouds drifted in front of the sun and a cold breeze swept the courtyard. Hannah shivered, and he pulled the blanket higher up her shoulders. She caught his hand so his arm remained around her.

He glanced at her lips, within reach, parting delicately, her half-closed eyelids, and he knew she was going to kiss him.

“I’m not…” he began, compelled to warn her but not sure what about.

“You’re not what?” she asked with an amused lilt.

I’m not good at this. I work too much. I shut myself off to the people I care about. I fucked up my marriage. I can’t give you what you need.

Hannah’s expression turned to one of concern, so he pretended to have forgotten what he wanted to say.

His cell phone rang. “I have to get this, it’s my daughter.” He rose and stepped away from the table. His thoughts were scattered. He took a second to regroup before answering. Daisy was coming to join him in New York in two days, and she had some last-minute questions about packing.

While he talked on the phone, Hannah went to the restroom.

He was a dad. She’d imagined him as this free spirit, roaming the world, hurtling towards danger to save women and orphans. But he was a dad. She didn’t want to be a step-mother. They were ugly or cruel or evil. She wasn’t ready for that. She couldn’t deal with a teenager. No way. And with the ex-wife— no fucking way.

Why was she even thinking about being a step-mother? This thing with Alec, it was just a fling. Would be a fling. Nothing more. Whenever she slept with a man abroad, she made a point never to see him again after. Hardy was no exception. She wouldn’t see him again and certainly never meet his daughter.

An impatient knock on the door startled her. She quickly pulled up her pants, though she couldn’t remember if she’d peed or not.

As she walked back to the courtyard, Hannah observed Alec who was lost in thoughts. Why did his sad eyes make her want to blow him so much?

She could have kissed him hours ago— should have— but she’d enjoyed the slow blooming of it. The way her touch rippled through him. He was so starved for it, he didn’t even know. Yet he held back, and she couldn’t understand why.

“I’m not with her mum anymore,” he said as soon as he saw her. “Divorced. There’s no going back after what happened.”

If she asked what happened he would tell. He would open up to her. She didn’t ask.

“It’s fine. Don’t worry about it. I just didn’t know you have a daughter.”

“Well, I didn’t mean to keep it from you. Can’t believe I haven’t mentioned her.”

“So you’re a daddy, that’s kind of hot.”

“No.” He inspected her, a wrinkle deepened on his brow. “Did you want to go?”

She was still standing up behind her chair.

Alec paid for both their meals, and then there was nothing to do but leave. She asked him to walk with her to the visitor center where she would catch the shuttle bus back to the ship. She wasn’t ready to part from him yet. The closer they got to the visitor center, the heavier her heart felt. Alec’s eyes were on the ground with serious dimples in his cheeks. She wanted to say something clever and flirty to lighten up the mood.

They rounded a corner and saw the big white charter bus, with Jeffrey standing beside it. They backtracked a little, just out of his sight, under an old-fashioned lamp post.

Once again, they stood face to face on the pavement, without knowing what to say, but for entirely different reasons now.

“I should let you go,” he said even as he stepped forward, closer to her.

Those eyes of his were on her now, wide, almost pleading. He made her feel so warm and soft inside, pliant, in a way she didn’t recognize about herself.

She stepped closer too.

She’d made her desire abundantly clear, twice he’d turned her down now, the ball was in his court.

Hesitantly, he brushed a strand of hair behind her ear. His fingers lingered on her jaw, and she could have melted in that touch.

He straightened his shoulders, and she sensed he’d come to a decision.

“I can’t leave without kissing you...”

“Go on, then.”

He laughed at her impatience. A deep breath, and he dipped his head to kiss her. Just a brush of lips at first, enough to send sparks through her blood. The day’s energy finally released. His fingers carded through her hair, her arms wrapped around his waist. The kiss deepened, and she felt it to her toes. People walked around them and leaves twirled in the wind, and they kept kissing. It was a day for gluttony. She gorged herself on every bit of lust, sadness and hope.

Hannah kept her eyes closed and Alec rested his forehead on hers. She felt peaceful and high-strung all at once. She relaxed her fists that were clenched into his jacket.

He sought her mouth again, with more confidence, hands splayed over her ribs, wide and steady.

Engine noises alerted her to the shuttle about to depart. Hand in hand, they walked over to it. In front of the door, he pulled her into a hug.

“I wish I could take you on board,” she whispered against his neck.

“I can be a stowaway, I’ve done it before.”

She chuckled and they kissed again, holding each other close. Jeffrey cleared his throat meaningfully.

“Where are you going next?” Alec asked.

“Portland, Maine. Why? Do you have another mate you can hitch a ride with?”

“I could find one.”

“It’s a date, then.”

Chapter 7: Portland

#Hardy x Hannah #Alec Hardy #Hannah Baxter #teninch fic #Broadchurch #secret diary of a call girl #crossover #travelers AU #lostinfic writes stuff

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imagineclaireandjamie · 6 years ago

Note

I’m struggling with anorexia. Would you be comfortable writing one about how Jamie would react if Claire were anorexic?

The Meeting - Part 1

In the pale light of the fake Christmas tree,Claire sat with her hands joined in her lap. It hadn’t been her idea to jointhe group, but her friend (and colleague) Joe had convinced her it was the bestthing. Looking deep into her eyes he had used his least offensive doctor voiceto tell her it was this -- or hospitalisation.

“So,” the overly cheery host began as everyoneelse settled into their seats.

It was cold and uncomfortable in the backroom ofthe town hall which they gathered, but at least everyone seemed friendly.

The scent of the coffee she held between herfingers drifted upwards, covering her face in a comforting warmth as she triedto refocus in on what was being said in the circle surrounding her but she washaving difficulty adapting.

“Claire, you’re new, would you care to share?”

His badge, she finally noticed, read ‘John’ inlarge bold font. And now, not only his, but all of the eyes in the circle werefocused on her. She felt her cheeks pink, the attention causing her heart rateto pick up pace as she gripped her cup tighter. Suddenly her mouth was too dryto speak, the idea of unleashing all of her demons onto the strangers in frontof her sending cold shivers down her spine.

“You don’t have to.” He continued, his browsdrawn together as he watched her shudder minutely. “This is a safe space, youcan open up any time you feel.”

“N-no,” she shuttered, the words eventuallyleaving her mouth as she smiled shyly, “might as well rip the plaster off andget started.” She whispered, to herself more than to anyone else.

Standing, she let the legs of the chair scrapeacross the hardwood floor as she imagined the vast array of people around herto be patients in her care rather than a jury of her peers. “Hello, as Johnsaid, I’m Claire.” Speaking with confidence now, she stood still with her legstogether as if she were addressing family waiting in a relations room. “I firststarted trying to control my relationship with food when my husband left me. Itwas a slow build, really. One I didn’t pay much attention to until I fainted atwork just before a major surgery but gradually, over the period of about ayear, I stopped eating breakfast and lunch and barely ate tea.”

There were a couple of sympathetic nods frommembers of the group (populated by a range of old and young, male and female)all of whom seemed to understand how the beast of this illness grew withinuntil you no longer recognised the person you’d started off as.

She took a breath then, happy that a sort ofsubtle stillness had fallen on the semi-silent room. A mumble of ‘hello,Claire’’s echoed around the room as she took a sip of her drink and satback down again, tucking her skirt under her legs so that the cold plasticchair didn’t touch her bare skin.

The rest of the meeting passed by in a blur asJohn re-introduced himself and a range of others stood to inform the oldermembers of the group of their progress but Claire had stopped listening.Instead she allowed her vision to glaze, the sound of the dripping pipe behindher captivating her as the hour ticked on. At least her name had been tickedoff the register. Joe would know she’d attended - and participated.

Of everyone in her life, Joe Abernathy was theonly one who held any sway over her. He’d kept her fainting a mystery at work,withholding the information from the board so that she had enough time to seekhelp on her own rather than be questioned at length and forced down a differentpath by her employers.

“You’re a doctor, Lady Jane,” Joe had saidcautiously, using his pet name for her to soften the blow, “you cannot treatpatients if you’re not well yourself.”

She had tried to argue with him, to debate theissue and deny that anything was wrong - but it was too late for that. The deepbags around her eyes (that had little to do with the amount of hours she workedand the lack of sleep) showed the extent of her malnutrition, as did the deepcurve of her collarbones. She was gaunt, too skinny to be healthy but she’dtaken all of the mirrors down in her own home and avoided the glare of themirror every time she used the bathrooms at work and so hadn’t taken stock ofherself in a good six months.

Before she knew it, Claire was collecting hercoat, pulling the hood up and heading off into the night -escaping the tepidair of the hall as fast as she could. She didn’t think about where her feetwere taking her, but she was soon sat in the corner of the closest bar with anaged whisky between her fingers.

“Is anyone sat here?” A deep baritone asked, hislow voice making her turn abruptly as she looked up into the eyes of the guywho’d interrupted her thoughts.

“No, help yourself.” She said arching her freehand towards the empty seat as if to invite him to sit.

“Ye seemed kind of distant tonight.” Hecontinued after he’d sat down, his head cocked to the side and a small smileplaying on his lips as he took a swig of his own beverage.

“I’m sorry,” she asked, confused, “do I knowyou?”

“Yer Claire, aye? Ye were at the meeting thisevening. For eating disorders, aye?”

An embarrassed laugh bubbled in her throat andClaire struggled to contain it as she held her crystal tumbler in front of herface. “Oh, sorry. I guess you were right, I was distracted...distant even.”

“Dinna apologise. We all were on a first fewsessions. It’s that crucial moment when yer figuring out whether it’s the rightthing for you, whether it’ll actually help and if yer ready to even open yermouth. But, and ye can trust me on this, it is right. John is brilliant, thoughI’ve never seen him be so direct as to ask a newbie whether they want to sharebefore. He’s usually much more subtle.”

Snorting Claire recalled the moment Joe hadmentioned the group and it suddenly became clear why John had been so forward.

“It’s because he knows about me.”

“Och, knows about ye but doesna ken ye?”

“That’s right. He knows my friend, Joe. He’s themain reason I’m there really. What about you?”

She could see the moment the memory sparkedbehind his eyes and immediately she wanted to take back her question - thoughshe assumed he’d shared his reasons many times before. Sitting in the dankcorner of an unknown bar, out of the safe space designated to them in the weehall, it felt different, less simple maybe.

“You don’t have to tell me, I didn’t mean to--”

“No, dinna apologise. Turnabout is fair play,aye? I ken about ye it’s only right that ye want to know about me”

“It’s just more difficult, isn’t it?”

“Aye. It is. More complex, maybe.”

A silence fell over them, the sweet tang of theair sending an intoxicating ripple through them both. It allowed Claire tofocus on the music playing in the background - White Christmas, she realisedbelatedly. Christmas seemed like an abstract season at the moment, when herlife was so up in the air, but December had begun and so Glasgow hadtransformed into something altogether too festive in an instant.

“You could start by re-telling me your namethen.” She asked, her shoulders relaxing as he leaned forwards, his armsresting on the table between them.

He paused for a moment, just long enough forClaire to realise that his mere presence had relaxed her almost instantly. Hereyes caught his, the seedy lighting making his pale complexion seem almostradiant and she smiled - an involuntary lifting of her lips that he mirroredimmediately.

“It’s James Fraser, Jamie to my friends.”

“Lovely to meet you, Jamie...or should I stickto the more formal -James- until we’re better acquainted?”

“I dinna think we need to stand on ceremony. Iwas in the army for long enough to know that isna necessary.”

“Military man, eh?” She asked, quirking a browas she clinked her glass with his. She could see, though, the storm buildingbehind the blue of his eyes. It was then she saw the turmoil cross his face,the almost unconscious scrunch of his features that revealed the tumult within.She couldn’t, of course, understand the finite details of the thing whichhaunted him but she saw the toxic darkness of it swishing around beneath hisskin as he pursed his lips, blinked rapidly and recovered suddenly as if it hadnever been there in the first place.

“Aye, I was. That’s how John and I ken oneanother. We served at the same time. Were released at a similar time.” Hisvoice was raspy now, as if all of the moisture had vanished from his mouthbefore he spoke.

“Shall we get out of here?” The noise suddenlyburst around them, piercing the bubble that had surrounded them and allowing arowdiness to sever the silence. “Go somewhere more private?” Claire didn’t giveherself time to think about what she was asking, but something about him calledto her and before she could stop she’d spoken.

“I ken a place. Ye have a warm coat, I hope?” Hereplied, a real smile lighting his face.

“Yes. Let’s go.”

#;mod mbd #the meeting au #anorexia au

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thereislifeafterhq · 5 years ago

Text

Flora Devereaux is 44 years young with a birthday on May 23rd. She hails from New Orleans and Shreveport, Louisiana but now lives in Lima, Ohio. She is a Country Singer and Owner of Barkin’ Bones Animal Shelter and looks a bit like Charlize Theron.

Full Name:

Flora Azalea Devereaux

Pronouns:

She/Her

Gender:

Cis-Female

Sexuality:

Pansexual (But currently unaware)

3 Positive Traits:

+ Protective + loving + smart

3 Negative Traits:

- Damaged - untrusting - self-deprecating

Biography:

triggers: Cult Life, Domestic Abuse, Sexual Abuse, mentions of drugs/Alcohol, Adultry, Depression, Anxiety

Flora Azalea Devereaux, was born in New Orleans to Owen and Magnolia Devereaux. The second child of four kids and certainly the one that had the biggest dream. She wanted to be a country star, she wanted to share her gift with the world. It wasn’t her only dream, she also wanted true love. She imagined her prince coming along and they would share love’s first kiss, she wanted love and prayed for it. However, when you grew up in a church like Precious Glory Ministry. Love and dreams weren’t high on the list, not in the eyes of Pastor Gregory Stone. Pastor Stone considered himself God’s prophet and interpreter of god’s will.

The parishioners had roles and those roles were god’s command. Men worked in the fields, built homes, and took wives. The women served the men by cooking, cleaning, and bearing their children. Pastor Stone was allowed to sleep with any wife he wished, no questions asked. The children treated him as a second father and follow his commands without question. As the church grew, Pastor Stone moved them to bigger land in the middle of nowhere- away from prying eyes.

People started to pull away from the ministry, families leaving in the night and others told to leave and never come back. Owen and Magnolia were planning to leave for years, saving money, hoarding provisions, and planning their escape. It was Pastor Stone’s interest in Flora and Rose that finally set things in motion. Flora was fourteen and Pastor Stone turned his attention towards her particularly. Flora felt very uncomfortable with his advances but knew if Pastor Stone wouldn’t take no for an answer. His words, “But God wants me to have you,” were burned in her brain. The night before Pastor Stone took Flora as his new wife, The Devereaux’s fled and left no trace.

Shreveport, Louisiana. A small farm house with just enough lands for a family to build a life. It took some time but The Devereaux found a new church to call home. Flora’s life change drastically, she finally had a chance to follow her dreams. She started to sing in the church choir and one of the church goers happen to be in the country music business. He told her about a band he was putting together and they needed a lead. They were looking for a younger sound and Flora had what they were looking for. When they hit the road, Magnolia tagged along and took Rosie with her. She wanted to spend some time with the band and make sure Flora felt comfortable. A few months in she headed back home and left Flora in the new chaperones hands.

Paul and Avery became her best friends, they were a couple years older and treated her like a kid sister. They were extra protective of her, once they realize just how innocent she truly was. “You never snuck a drink, not even once?” Avery asked in disbelief. Flora explained that she didn’t lie, cheat, steal, or do anything the lord frowned upon. She believed preserving her body with prayer and being optimistic about the people around her, “Oh Paulie we have so much work to do.” Flora stood her ground for some time but decided the lord would forgive her. She prayed about it and decided to try smoking, after her first attempt she couldn’t stop coughing. Drinking did not appeal to her at all but she did enjoy the taste of wine. “I guess that’s a start,” Avery shrugged.

Flora was also a very honest person, so when her Marmee asked how everything was. She ended up telling her everything got an hour long lecture over the phone. That was enough to scare from trying anything else.

After a year, the band finally had a huge break. Their song Baby Girl broke charts and thrust the band into the public eye. Their first huge event was a country music festival in Louisiana, Flora was excited because that meant her family could come and see the band perform. The set was a hit and Flora met many people but only one stuck, a man by the name of Russell Fabray. He was charming, handsome, and older. They spent the whole after party talking before slipping away. Against her better judgment she slept with Russell that night, behind the garden. Russell assured her that everything would be alright. “We’re going to marry and no one has to know.” And she believed him.

During their first tour, Russell would come out to meet her. They would spend every minute together between rehearsals. When Flora found out she was pregnant, she called Russell in a panic. “We need to get married,” He didn’t sound angry or mad and Flora felt relieved. They did it properly and Russell asked her parents permission to marry their daughter.

They bought a house near Flora’s parents, a place where they could start their family. Flora continued to travel with the band, until tragedy struck. Avery had always been one for drugs and alcohol and her lifestyle had spiraled. The more famous the group got, the more she indulged. Flora and Paul did what they could but she wouldn’t accept the help. One night after a show, Avery went out to a party. Paul and Flora passed and opted for sleep, “Sure, thank you for everything.” Those words confused Paul and Flora but they passed them off.

The next morning, Paul and Flora got the news about Avery. After a night of partying she went back to her hotel room and overdosed. Before she took her life, she wrote down everything on her mind- which broke Paul and Flora both. Avery wrote a song for them both and told them to go on and take a piece of her with them. The song was kept secret and Flora kept a copy with her as a reminder.

The death of Avery ended the band, it was just to painful. Paul decided he couldn’t do it without her and Flora agreed. Sugarland was over and Flora returned to Louisiana to take a break and have her family. When the twins were born, Russell was late and Flora finished before he made any appearance. Avery and Daniel Fabray, they were perfect in every way and Flora’s motherly instincts kicked in. She needed to keep them safe from the world.

Eighteen, married and a mother of two. She was overwhelmed and was glad her parents were around to help. Russell was always traveling for work and she was left alone a lot. He would come back to check in, being a strict parent and even more stern husband. He had expectations and she never questioned them, he was the husband and made the rules. He changed after marriage and she found he was quick to temper. He enjoyed his drinking and it made things tense and scary, especially when he started to abuse her. If she didn’t do things to his standards, he’d hit her and call her worthless. She blamed herself for his anger, believing it was his right as a husband to set the rules.

When Russell was away, Flora would do a few local gigs. Singing her own songs and entertaining the crowd. She couldn’t see herself going on tour again, she was a parent now and Russell would never allow it. She needed so much help with the twins and Marmee was a great help during these times. She trusted her mother’s sage advice and told Magnolia everything, “I’m scared, Marmee, nothing I do is right. I try so hard but I can’t do this anymore, I want to leave him.” Magnolia was understanding until the very end, she was quick to jump in.

“Divorce is a sin, Flower. You hang in and god will punish him for his wicked deeds.”

“But Marmee, I-”

“Marriage is hard but divorce is not happening. And, do not tell your paw or brother’s, heaven knows what they’d do to him!” After that, Flora took every punch, squeeze, and harsh word. She stayed silent until his anger turned towards the kids. They were only four years old and Russell went to strike but suddenly the timid housewife turned into a tiger. She pushed him back and grabbed her new weapon. A gun her brother bought her, after learning about Russell and his abuse.

“In the name of the lord I will shoot you dead if you touch them.” He instantly sobered up and called Flora’s bluff, knocking the gun from her hand and going in for the attack. The police showed up but Flora was too scared to admit what happened. She just stayed by Russell and smiled as he explained. “Just a very loud disagreement, Lloyd. Everything is fine, we got a bit carried away.” After that, Russell started to spend more time away from home. His attitude towards the kids changed, especially with Avery. She was his princess and earned her love, she was special to him. Daniel received the most attention but had expectations placed on him, since he was the man of the house.

When she became pregnant with their third child years later, things were good again for a while. She almost forgot about the monster in front of her, he was being so sweet and kind. One night, Flora took him aside when he was sober and had a conversation. “I don’t want this baby to see that side of you, Russ. I want our kids to feel safe, I don’t want them to see you raise another hand.” Russell agreed in his own way, a smile, a kiss, and just walked away. He continued to abuse her but they kept it from the children.

For a few years, Flora continued to sing. Just small little gigs at local venues, the kids would tag along and support her. It was nice for the kids to see that side of her but nothing good lasts. She started to take less and less gigs and eventually went back to being a housewife.

Flora found some confidence over time, able to stand up to Russell more and more. He calmed down a lot over the years and that helped. However, something was eating away at her and she felt that she wasn’t the only, Mrs. Fabray. She did some digging and found he was married to another woman. She was upset and wondered how Russell managed to keep this from her. When she got the nerve to bring it up, Russell admitted he was in fact married to another woman. “How long?” Russell then laid everything out on the table and Flora was broken. A grief she had never felt- everything was a lie. The priest was a fake, the marriage a lie, she had been living in sin for sixteen years. “Why?”

“Because I had to have you, you’re mine.” Those words haunt her until this day.

Now it made perfect sense why Russell never wanted her to mention his name. Why he never wanted to be in the tabloids, or why he allowed her to keep her last name. He never wanted this part of his life to get back to his wife. “Not anymore. Not only did you cheat on me with other women, you cheated on your actual wife with me. You’re an Adulterer and that is a sin in the eyes of the lord, the very lord you use to beat me to the ground. You shame me, our kids, we’re going to be a joke to our entire community! Leave and don’t you ever come back.” Russell was going to argue but when Owen, Jake, and Tucker appeared behind her with shotguns he backed away.

“See you again, I’ll shoot you dead.” Owen cocked his gun and aimed it right at Russell’s head. He knew Owen wouldn’t think twice and made his escape out the door. Everything was kept silent and it was decided that if anyone asked, Russell left and that was that. Flora had the task of telling the kids and it was one of the hardest conversations she had. The twins were about to turn sixteen years old and understood but Juliette had a hard time understanding. She was only nine and her daddy was her everything and now she found out he was a bad man. She promised them everything would be okay and things would stay the same. “This changes nothing because it’s always been us against the world…”

The first step of this new found freedom, introducing the kids to their siblings. Judy was unsure about it but Flora decided it was an important step. The kids thought it was weird that Flora and Judy were friends but they were important to each other. It was weird being friends with your fake husbands ex-wife but It was nice to have someone to share things with. The first meeting with the kids were tense and Juliette seemed the only one interested. The other kids were courteous and made small talk and that was all. Judy and Flora wanted them to get to know each other but at their own pace.

Things were still strained but getting better…

“Solo music?” When the label came to Flora about solo music, she was skeptical about the whole thing. “I don’t know if I can, It wouldn’t feel right to do it without Paulie.”

“You should,” Paul was standing in the corner of the room with a smile, she didn’t even notice him. They had not seen each other since the twins were born. Russell didn’t want him around and now Russell was gone and Paul was here. They shared a long hug and stayed like that for a while. “Avery would want you to sing again, you should.” And with Paul’s blessing and a bunch of nerves she started to work on a new album- which went nowhere. Her fears and insecurities were firmly planted by Russell and she let doubt sink in. She told the label no and went back to her life as a pharmacist.

Over the next few years, Russell continued to show up in her life. Begging to come back home and only once she had a moment of weakness and let him in. Things were good for a short time but then the abuse started up. By this time the kids were off to college and moved away, no where in the house was safe. She kicked him back out but Russell wouldn’t stop trying to win her back. He would leave her flowers, love notes and things escalated quickly. When she refused to return his expressions of love, all four of her tires were slashed. She knew it was him but the police had no evidence, no fingerprints, nothing. Also, the house was in his name and legally she could not keep him from the property. Flora decided it was time to move and get away from him. She took what she needed and packed it away in a car and a moving van. The rest was moved into storage for safe keeping.

Flora didn’t know where to go at first but it made sense, Lima. Her and Judy shared a strong bond and friendship and she needed her friends strength. Flora found a nice home and made it her own but one thing Flora couldn’t escape- crippling depression and Anxiety. Those seemed to follow her wherever she went and it made things hard. The once perfectly pressed and dressed, she started to dress down and ignore her own personal hygiene. Late night trips to the convenience store, it’s sad when the clerks start to know your name.

One night, by pure luck- Flora ran into someone she met online. A girl who she grew close to, Dani. They seemed to help each other and boy something about this girl felt familiar. It only took a few days for Flora to remember the wild child, Avery. They were similar in many ways and now Flora knew the pain, the hurt, the betrayal. She could help Dani and be there to help when she needed it. Before they knew it, Flora became a mother figure and a friend. Both were there for each other and Dani helped her through her own hard times. She even convinced Flora to get a tattoo.

Over the next few months, Flora decided to be more open with her past. Giving her instagram followers a glimpse into her old life, speaking her truth. Which caused a rift with some family but that was their problem, not hers.

Things were good for a bit but got worse when Russell showed up. He found her and started harassing her again, which escalated into sexual assault. Causing Flora to live in fear, even after Russell was found and arrested he was set free. No physical evidence but the second time she fought back, clawing his face. He was on the run and the worry only built up and last year during the holidays- Flora had a nervous breakdown. It was so bad she could not function on her own but her family helped and she found herself again.

Flora was back in Lima before she knew it, stronger and ready to live her life. Russell was caught shortly after New Years, receiving a five year sentence for his crimes. It gave Flora peace of mind and she could finally focus on her life and her new Music career…

Paul had come to her around April and asked if she wanted to go back on tour. Flora wasn’t sure about being in the spotlight but Paul said it was time. “We put this off long enough, Avery would want us to do this.” Flora thought about it decided it was time to get back into something she truly loved.

The last few months she has been planning Sugarland’s return with Paul and working on her self worth.

#flora d #female #bio

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