#bren: BESIDES HANG OUT WITH ME ???

[callsign-rogueone]

the chess game - b.s.

Brennan Sorrengail x reader part four of Brennan and Duchess's story. words: 2.9k 🏷: IRON FLAME SPOILERS, she/her reader in established relationship with Brennan (Duchess!), some heavy-handed chess analogies (do they even have chess in Navarre?), Cat gets her own warning, canonical peril with the venin, tiny bit of angst between you but it’s resolved quickly, suggestive at the end, italic dialogue between reader and Bren is spoken in Tyrrish, proofread this with a migraine lol enjoy

Brennan’s breath catches as you begin your descent of the marble stairs. You’re the picture of a warrior princess; draped in fine black silk that trails to the floor, plates of silver armor resembling tiny dragon scales covering your bare shoulders, a sheathed longsword strapped down your spine. You’ve left your hair in its usual braids, but a spiky diadem sits atop them, silver engraved with runes of protection.

“Lieutenant Colonel,” you greet, surprised. “It is always a pleasure.”

He extends a gloved hand to help you down the last three steps. “The pleasure is mine, my Lady,” he replies, lowering his head in deference and pressing a featherlight kiss to the back of your hand. 

You suppress a shiver at the touch — one you’ve felt many times, but there is something new about it now that you’re out of Tyrrendor and nobody here knows who you are to one another. It almost feels scandalous.

“Allow me to introduce Captain Mira Sorrengail and Cadet Violet Sorrengail.” 

You dip your chin to them in acknowledgment, smiling warmly. “I must thank you both for all that you’ve done for our people,” you say with a look to Xaden. 

“It has been our honor, Lady,” Violet says, smiling back. 

Mira resists the urge to roll her eyes at the finery, instead eyeing your hosts with deep distaste and suspicion — she’s never been this close to a gryphon flier without trying to kill them.

Xaden and Violet are staring each other down, undoubtedly fighting across their bond — he’s mad that she showed up unannounced, and she’s mad about him leaving her in the dark about all of this.

Brennan watches you carefully, the two of you doing some silent communication of your own.

You have every piece you need to win this game. You just need to think three steps ahead of your opponent.

————————————————————————

The three Sorrengails clean up well.

You can only imagine the amount of coercion it took to get Mira into that dress, but it looks good on her. Violet wears a similar one, her hair down and flowing over her shoulders instead of her usual tight coronet, and Xaden can’t seem to pull his eyes away from the soft silver strands.

You can’t help but smile at Brennan. He must have packed the formal uniform himself, knowing the level of dress required at these types of dealings from the complaining you’d done every time you’d returned. 

It looks near-identical to the one he’d worn on your wedding day — that one now hangs in a closet in your parents’ estate in Lindell, beside your white silk dress, but that jacket did not have quite as many adornments; he’s earned a few more stripes in the last three years.

You may not be close to him now, forced to remain a professional distance away, but you take solace in the fact that your hands have been all over that uniform before — that you’d sewn on the Lieutenant Colonel’s insignia for him last year, that you’ve stripped that jacket off of him more than once.

The Viscount wastes no time making his first move. “Have you given any more thought to Drake’s proposal, Lady Lindell? He is quite eager to hear back from you.”

Your heart pounds against your ribs; you weren’t expecting to discuss this now. “I have, actually.”

Brennan has never been a jealous person, never quick to anger, but right now he looks like he’s going to break a bone in his hand from how hard he’s clenching it into a fist. 

You choose your words carefully, knowing that these negotiations may be over in seconds if you say the wrong thing.

“I must decline. Tyrrendor is still working to recover from the events of years past, and we are now being presented with new threats as well. It would be wrong to divert any attention from my people at a time when they need leadership most.”

“Always so noble, Lady,” Tecarus praises with a sly smile. “It is easy to see why he is so enamored with you, despite your differences. Perhaps the two of you could discuss it again after this matter is resolved.”

Of course he won’t take no for an answer. 

Brennan has relaxed, but he still looks upset, avoiding your gaze. 

You can’t seem to quell the bubbling fear in your chest. Does Brennan doubt your affection for him, your commitment to him? Surely he understands that this is strictly business, that you aren’t seriously entertaining the idea of leaving him for Drake Cordella.

“Do not take his distance to heart, royal one,” Ban says firmly. “He loved you through his dying breath, and he will continue to far beyond the next.”

She’s right. You’ve never given Brennan any reason to believe otherwise, and you’d probably feel the same, should he have received a marriage proposal from another.

You realize exactly why you’d doubted yourself — Cat is staring daggers at you from her uncle’s side.

“That’s not the real reason, is it?” She asks, and the discussion that you hadn’t really been listening to suddenly grinds to a halt. Every head turns toward her, then follows her burning gaze to you. 

If she wants to fight this fight, you’ll let her. There is no getting under your skin, under the crown you wear; you’ll play her game, and you’ll win.

“I had hoped the Viscount and I would continue this conversation privately, as it is not the focus of our gathering,” you reply in the cold tone you’d use to discipline a cadet. “There are multiple reasons for my declination, which I shall not discuss in present company, but the foremost is that I have already found the one I wish to share my title with, and it is not your cousin.”

Cat simmers with rage and embarrassment, clearly not done with you, but you revel in the look on her face nonetheless. 

You can feel Xaden’s eyes on you, burning into your skin, but you do not turn to look in his direction. You will not apologize for anything tonight. You will not retreat an inch.

“If she says another word, I’ll roast her and her bird,” Tairn purrs, making a rare appearance.

“Not until the luminary is secured,” his mate replies, almost playful — she’s just as sick of the girl as he is.

You build up the mental wall, but leave some gaps in the brick; enough to send a message, but not to block them out completely. They do not protest, leaving you to your business; likely headed off to sample Poromiel’s sheep.

The night air here is just as cold as in Tyrrendor, and you’re rather underdressed for the chill as you step out onto the balcony. You open the door of your father’s library just a crack, allowing yourself to draw a tiny fraction of Ban’s power to warm yourself, letting the gentle heat flow through you as you rub your palms over the exposed skin of your arms.

Brennan comes to stand at your right, maintaining a professional distance between you. 

You keep your eyes forward, surveying the arena, and speak quietly, even though nobody else here knows the language. “Have I ever told you how much I love seeing you in a proper officer’s uniform, Lieutenant Colonel?”

You can see him redden in your periphery — you’d found out after his latest promotion exactly how much he likes hearing you say that title.

“It does not hold a candle to you in that dress,” he deflects. “You’re always regal, even in flight leathers, but this…” he blows out a nervous breath, not daring to finish the sentence. 

“It took two ladies maids to do up all these clasps,” you say, a mischievous smile on your face. “I could use your help taking it off tonight — I know you’ve always been good with your hands.”

Xaden interrupts before Brennan can reply, the words coming out angular and unpolished. “Stop mind-fucking each other and focus.”

“That’s rich coming from you,” Brennan scoffs. “You’re always looking at my sister like you want to eat her.”

You shoot the younger man a glare of warning, already knowing what his next words would be. “Don’t.”

Xaden rolls his eyes in response, but stays quiet.

Mira and Violet head down the stairs, and you step forward, intent to join them.

“Ah-ah, lady. You don’t want to get too close,” the Viscount says, and two of his men tug you back by your upper arms.

The wall you’ve put up is starting to crack, the emotions behind it slipping through as you realize there’s a very real chance that whatever’s in that chest is going to kill them.

The guards tighten their grip on you, likely instructed to keep you out of harm's way until this is over. You don’t struggle, focusing on your breathing, trying to reinforce the wall, to maintain the mask you need to wear tonight.

“Say the word, and we bring the castle down,” Ban growls.

“Not until we’ve made a deal,” you snap back.

It must be obvious to Xaden that you’re losing your grip. “He wants me to tell you two not to do anything stupid,” Sgaeyl forwards, sounding like she’s rolling her eyes. 

You don’t respond, don’t look to the boy to reply; you can’t tear your eyes from the lawn below you, where a living, breathing venin is standing less than fifty yards away from the two Sorrengail girls.

The wall crumbles in its entirety, rage and fear flooding through you. The guards pull their hands back, hissing in pain — you’ve scalded their palms.

Brennan is already heading down the stairs.

“Take this,” you call, finally able to form words. He turns, and you unsheath your sword in one quick movement, tossing it to him over the edge of the balcony.

You pray he won’t need to use it, but there’s nothing else you can do; even if you ran down there right now, it’s raining too hard for you to create a shield of fire around them, or to burn the thing to a crisp yourself.

All you can do is watch as the three siblings press themselves together, Mira screaming as she uses everything she has to shield them from the wave of decay.

“Incoming!”

Tairn is the first to arrive, swooping down into the arena to lift Violet up as lightning strikes the soaked grass -- electrocuting the venin. It crumples to the ground, dead.

The other four dragons weren’t far behind. They perch on the stone edge of the arena, eyeing your hosts with contempt. Ban appears to debate whether or not she’s hungry enough to polish off a whole gryphon, Sgaeyl looking like she wants to torch the gaggle of Poromish nobles that had appeared to watch Violet wield.

Relief floods your body, but it’s quickly replaced by anger -- anger that Tecarus would dare to risk Violet’s life in this way, to risk everyone’s lives by releasing a venin on his lawn.

Xaden is already on it; you turn back to see shadows curled around the man’s throat, his feet six inches off the ground as Cat pleads with him to release the man. There must be some silent communication between him and Violet, as he unhands him soon enough, sending him straight to the floor rather unceremoniously.

Mira still looks a little pale, but she’s standing on her own. You rest a hand on her arm, the other on Brennan’s, sending a soft wave of warmth to each of them; they’re both soaked to the bone and shivering.

Brennan motions for you to turn, sheathing the sword at your back. His fingertips brush your spine gently, both a soft gesture of thanks and a reminder that he is still here, despite the events of the last five minutes.

You take a breath, willing yourself to relax and building the wall back up. The game is nowhere near over.

————————————————————————

You wait in steely silence as the four other riders change back into dry flight leathers, your gaze not leaving the two guards who had restrained you earlier. They eye you with a healthy dose of fear, keeping their distance from you and your fellow riders.

You take this chance to rearrange your pieces, taking a different seat than you’d been assigned earlier. The other four fall into place silently; a united front of the Aretian leaders in the middle, a Sorrengail sister at each end. You sit eye to eye with Tecarus, Violet with Cat — both intentional choices. 

Everything you’ve done tonight has been a message, a statement, and you are barring no holds, taking no prisoners after he’d put your family in mortal danger.

You are not the ranking officer at this table, nor the ranking royal, but they let you make the call; it is obvious to them that you’re enraged. 

You keep your composure, letting the anger smolder as you speak. “I believe we have upheld our end of this deal, Viscount. We will-”

Tecarus cuts you off. “I’m afraid you are no longer in a position to be bargaining here, Lady.”

What?

“That’s ridiculous,” Brennan argues. “You won’t help us protect this entire continent, because she won’t marry your nephew?”

Your heart swells at Brennan’s unwavering defense of you, but you quickly realize what he’s done — and so does the Viscount.

“The fair knight is always ready to protect his queen,” Tecarus muses, a sly smile on his face. “But he isn’t just a knight to you, is he, Lady?”

You do not hesitate for a second, ready to put this business to bed, to finally be done with Drake Cordella’s advances and his uncle’s ceaseless meddling.

You turn to Brennan, your eyes not leaving his as you speak. “He is not just a knight. He is my husband, and when the day comes, he will stand beside me and take the title of Duke Consort of Lindell. We cannot be separated, even by death, and he is the one thing I will not compromise on.”

Brennan gives you a soft smile; after three years, you’ve finally told someone about the two of you, someone who wasn’t immediate family and hadn’t attended your wedding.

He reaches for your hand under the table. You take it, intertwining your fingers and lifting your clasped hands, resting them on the smooth wood for all to see, your rings now on full display.

You look back to Tecarus, who is uncharacteristically silent.

Brennan takes a turn to speak. “I will remind you that she is the one who has been weaving the runes embedded in those daggers my Lieutenants have given you. Should you continue to disrespect her, you will soon find yourself defenseless against a force beyond your comprehension.”

Check.

The Viscount smiles, though the expression doesn’t quite reach his eyes. “Very well. In that case, I would like to change my terms.”

You nod, giving him permission to speak at his own table.

“I have taken in a hundred flier cadets and their leadership following the destruction of their academy. Take them with you back to Aretia, and train them to fight the venin, and the luminary is yours.”

You don’t bother to look to Xaden or Brennan to confer; it’s clear that everyone absolutely despises this idea.

“Fine,” you respond. “This threat is a threat to us all, and we will be stronger together than we will be separate. We will house and educate your cadets alongside our own, but it would behoove them to tread carefully. Riders and fliers have been enemies for centuries, and many aren’t quite so tolerant as us.”

You don’t need to look at Cat while you say it; she knows the message is directed to her.

“Then we have an accord,” Tecarus says, rising from his chair. “The fliers will be prepared to leave tomorrow at first light.”

“As will we,” you respond. You do not deign to thank him, watching in silence as he and his advisors file out of the room.

“If Drake so much as looks at you…” Brennan huffs, likely imagining the man with a broken nose.

You laugh, resting your ringed hand over his heart. “He can look all he wants, but I will gladly let you defend my honor if he tries anything else — you’re the only one allowed to touch.”

He groans in half-hearted complaint. “You can’t say things like that to me when we’re-”

“Your Grace,” Mira interrupts, bowing exaggeratedly.

“Cut it out,” her brother scolds, embarrassed.

You giggle. “I have a feeling she isn’t going to let that go any time soon, my love.”

“Nope,” Violet agrees, grinning from ear to ear.

“Need I remind you that you are in a very similar situation, sister?”

“You do not,” Xaden answers, stepping up behind her and wrapping an arm around her waist.

Mira nearly gags at the sight, still unused to seeing her sister with the Riorson boy.

You smile, looking at your family for a moment. “Excellent work, all of you. Now get some rest; we have a long flight home in the morning.”

You don’t need to tell them to stay on their guard — they know that this castle has eyes and ears everywhere, and that not everyone in it can be trusted.

The three of them nod, turning to head up the stairs.

You gasp softly as you feel one of the many buttons at the back of your dress come undone, your hand flying up to hold the fabric to your chest.

“I was never assigned a room,” Brennan murmurs, his warm breath ghosting over your neck. “Mind if we share?”

[icy-bluez]

Picture Perfect

Warnings: slightly suggestive, crack fic, fluff.

Characters: Rafayel, Zayne, Xavier

Synopsis: Weird / endearing pictures you have of them.

A/N: Icy has nothing to say cuz Icy currently has a smooth bren.

Rafayel

Man's got cake.

Nah, he's got a fucking bakery.

And you were extremely slightly jealous.

(Unless your thang be thanging too.)

You have definitely clicked pictures of his ass on multiple occasions, especially when he's wearing those fancy clothes of his, tight with swaying buttcheeks as he walks. And then you probably proceeded to spank it.

"Rafayel, I have a question." You ask while he was spacing out, sitting in front of a giant canvas full of beautiful hues of colours.

"...Yes?"

"If you fall on your butt do you bounce back up from the sheer plushness of the muscle on your rear en-"

Rafayel almost snaps his neck when he turns his face towards you with a loud dramatic, "Say what-!?"

Let's just say he got really flustered and you got to see for yourself if he really did bounce back up when he fell from the stool.

Besides that you also have a shit ton of pictures of him pouting or sulking because you're pretty sure he does the picture perfect pout better than you when he's just...well....sulking.

Xavier

Some...incredibly weird sleeping positions.

You were on your way out of Akso hospital one day and saw fur, fluffy and golden hanging out from the tree. You assumed it was a cat.

You reached up to grab it. The cat-human entity grunted.

You jumped away like a startled cat yourself, only to see sleepy blue eyes peek from under a lowered tree branch. Lo and behold, it was a wild Xavier. Snap, went the camera.

You definitely have pictures of his chest, like, how are they so huge and squish-able. You've also wanted to lick the sweat off his abs once in a while because he's just so damn muscular and glows like a goddamn glowstic- (concerned personnel are requested to not try this at home unless they are also in possession of a wild Xavier or similar-)

"Xavier. Shirt off." You ordered with a slightly unhinged expression on your face.

"W-whuh? Y/N?"

"Now."

"W-wait why-"

"Shut up and let me worship your knead-ables."

Don't pretend you did not relish in his moans after you were done with worshipping his body. It did not stop at his chest though, you definitely went lower.

PS: He fell asleep on his knees once, while he was hugging your legs and his head was on your lap. You clicked a picture and never let that one go.

Zayne

Zayne, pinching his nose bridge, sighing, his eyes closed and head leaning back against the couch. Before he could even register what was happening, he heard around fifty snaps of pictures being taken, going off from the side.

Zayne is just a very sexy man in general but you, as his girlfriend, obviously have weird/endearing pictures of him. Like the time he started gleefully laughing like a child. A giant cat was finally, finally being overly affectionate with him, licking his hands, neck and all over his face.

(Are we jealous? Yes we are!)

Zayne barely ever lets his guard down therefore little moments when he would fall asleep on your lap or just anywhere random in general after being thoroughly exhausted, you would take a picture.

You have definitely forced him into couple photoshoots with you. Asking him to put on cat ears with you, carry plushies on his shoulders, making hearts with your hands, drawing one half of a heart with a red lipstick on your cheek then smushing it against a reluctant Zayne's cheek to form the other half of the heart. That picture was now your lockscreen wallpaper.

Besides that, he had really broad shoulders and an impeccable stature. Not that you wouldn't peck it.

"Mm, can I?" You ask, seductively pulling his shirt open as you reapply your lipstick.

"Isn't this a bit too..."

"Is it a yes or a no?"

"...You can continue."

Now you also had a picture of Zayne flushed red and littered with lipstick marks all over his neck, cheeks, chest, abs, maybe lower. Definitely not because you were jealous of a cat.

Oh and he probably got his revenge as well.

ANTHOLOGY LIST

[hugheshugs]

okay thought, ik she probably doesn’t have the time for a sport, but what if she were part of something like track (an easier sport to be apart of) and on senior night when everyone’s parents are supposed to show up for photos and celebrations brendan never shows so she thinks she’s gonna be the only one without a parent or someone there then thom shows up cause she’d been talking about it for days and he wanted to make sure she had someone for her !

"what do you mean you aren't coming?" thomas asked as he stood in front of your school.

"i can't make it, there's this dinner and—"

"a dinner's more important than your daughter, really?" he cut brendan off aggressively. "bren, i'm tired of your bad parenting, are you fucking kidding me? she's waiting for you, she's been looking forward to this for weeks."

"first of all, i'm not a bad parent," brendan sighed through the phone. "i'm doing what i think is best for both of them. you aren't their dad, i'm doing what i can."

"yeah, i see that," he scoffed. "i guess i'm going to be the one dropping her home then, right?"

"... can you?"

"god, bren," he groaned, running a hand through his hair. "yes, i can, but you gotta do better."

"i will, okay, i will."

he rotated the bouquet in his hand. "i gotta go. i'll see you when we get home."

"home?"

"i-i mean, her home— your house. when i drop her home, to your house," he stammered, eyes wide.

"right. see ya."

he uttered a small goodbye before hanging up and shaking his head. after taking a deep breath, he fixed his posture and made his way to find you—which wasn't that hard considering all he had to do was follow the other parents.

you stood in the corner of your room, all by yourself as you watched the other students with their families. thomas spotted you immediately, his heart clenching at the sight of your face. you looked defeated, as if you knew your dad wasn't going to show.

you hadn't noticed him when he began walking towards you, too distracted by all the happy faces around. it was when he came up beside you and tapped your shoulder that you flinched and looked at him.

"thom, what are you doing here?" your eyebrows raised in surprise, glancing down at the flowers in his hand.

"i'm here for you," he gave you a smile, holding the flowers out for you to hold. "these are for you."

your lips parted and you grabbed them at a loss for words. "thank you."

"anything for my best girl. now c'mon, let's go take some pictures and have fun. rub it in your dad's face a little," he said almost playfully.

you chuckled. "i like the sound of that."

--

part two

[mooneloquence]

•They say you're dangerous, but you're my safe. 💜🧡 for the Wizards.

Hey! It's been a little while, but I'm still studying while filling these. This prompt gave me a ton of ideas, and none of them were canon compliant lol. This is an au, and one that's been on my mind for a while. All you need to know is Bren never broke (outwardly) after Ikithon's test and went on to become his right hand man, I believe the rest is pretty clear in this! Thank you so much for the prompt, anon 💜 I really hope you like how this turned out! I'm still taking prompts from here, send me an ask!

Cw: implied/referenced non-consensual drugging.

They say you're dangerous, but you're my safe. (1.3k words, T)

Solitude and confinement were driving him mad, that had to be it. There was no other reasonable explanation for what was going on in his mind. The scourger? Really? Certainly he was far more agreeable than any other person that had come into contact with him during the last... he couldn't remember. Time was one of his specialties, and he couldn't remember how long he'd been trapped in what Trent Ikithon called a guest room in only the Light knew where.

Still, that was no excuse to be thinking of him like that. It was true that there was something in his demeanor that intrigued him: it was in the way he talked and the way there always seemed to be an inquisitive glint to his eye, as if trying to discern something about Essek but could not be sure of it quite yet. It was probably just part of their training, he told himself. The scourger wanted to get in his good graces however possible so that he would more readily cooperate when his master forced him to work on the Beacon. He knew he could not let that happen.

Except that it already had.

The hour they spent together every day was the only good thing he had to look forward to. Bren said that his longer stays in the heavily warded room were not something Ikithon was aware of. Ha. As if he, a dunamantic prodigy and Shadowhand of the Bright Queen, were naive enough to believe that. But if it made the human happy to keep up the charade, who was he to stop him? No matter what Ikithon said, he was a prisoner there, even if his cell was a decent room and not a dingy hole on the wall.

They had met on his third day of captivity after fleeing the Dynasty to avoid being executed for treason when they inevitably found out. It had been four years, and they were getting so close to the truth he could practically feel the shackles around his wrists, the nullifying collar around his neck. Essek didn't believe in fate nor divine justice, so it was just his luck that the Assembly had found him like a ripe plum hanging from a branch. All they'd needed to do was—pluck him for themselves.

His mind was still a bit hazy with the bitter drug they gave him in the mornings to keep him docile and without access to his magic when the door opened and in came a man. He carried a tray with food, and his rolled-up sleeves left the mazes of black ink on his forearms out in the open for anyone to see.

"You're dangerous," said Essek, brain too muddled to ask what he really wanted to know. Why do they send a scourger to bring me food?

Apparently, it had been enough for the man to know what he was getting at. "You as well, Herr Thelyss," he replied, his accented voice surprisingly genial. Essek just stared at him. Drugged like this, he was no more dangerous than a newborn kitten, and they both knew it.

After that, Bren had introduced himself. At first, the drow had refused to hold a conversation with him, but after what seemed like months, his resistance was weathered down. Besides, if he played his cards right, he might convince the younger wizard to help him escape; wishful thinking, but his best shot at getting away with his head still on his shoulders. The scourger was interesting—much more interesting than the insultingly small amount of books he'd been allowed, half of which were in Zemnian and thus unintelligible for him—and he didn't know when, but he had started to think of him as his safe space in this hostile place. Their relationship was hinged in manipulation and deception, but that didn't mean he was not allowed to find solace in the company. During that time, he had also noticed that he felt a little bit stronger every day, even if they kept drugging him every morning. It could just be that his body was getting used to the foul substance, but that did not explain why Bren always asked him how he was feeling that day at the start of their conversations. Essek suspected he was planning something, but he could never decipher what it was, and Bren always skirted around his careful prodding.

It only served to make him more intriguing. And Light be damned, Essek was attached.

Under any other circumstances, he would have welcomed the sound of numerous locks being opened that signified the arrival of food and company for the day. But wary as he was, he only turned away from the door, moodily staring at the stone brick wall.

No more than a few seconds later, the door closed.

"How are you feeling, Herr Thelyss?"

That was the strange part. Essek felt completely fine, his mind clear as the night sky during a crisp winter. He had not dared to attempt magic, not wanting to risk disappointment after many iterations of the same. Still, he replied plainly, "Normal."

Bren left the food tray on the small wooden desk that matched the chair Essek was currently on. "Normal enough to use your magic?"

He frowned. "Why do you care so much?" he asked, suspicion poisoning his mood further. If he told him, he might tell his masters, and who knew what they would do if they found out.

Silence.

After a while, soft footsteps went around the desk and by his chair; Bren came into view.

"Because I have heard of your prowess in your field, and I need you in optimal shape if we are to get away from here and kill Ikithon."

Essek studied him without saying a word. The guarded scheming was no longer present in the scourger's blue eyes, replaced by firm, earnest conviction.

"Do you truly believe me so naive?" he replied coolly. But it made sense, it made all the sense. That was it, the missing puzzle piece. Still, he didn't want to believe it. Bren furrowed his brow, lowering to a crouch before him.

"I have planned this for so long, even before you were here. I— I have seen what that man is capable of, I have experienced it first-hand. He is a cancer in my nation, Essek, and this is the first time I've had the hope of actually being able to excise it." From under his jacket, Bren produced a brass amulet molded and engraved to resemble a closed eye. He offered it to him. "Do you trust me?"

Did he? He wanted to say no. "Yes." A terrible decision had gotten him to where it was, what was one risk more to him? Taking the amulet from Bren's open palm, he inspected it, wanting to Identify it, but of course, he was missing his focus. Almost like he was able to read his mind, Bren took out the platinum and amethyst ring from another pocket. Essek accepted it. The room was most probably proofed against teleportation, but still that was a risky gamble on the human's part; if his master's prisoner was capable of magic, he could find himself crushed into bloody pulp in a matter of seconds.

"A token of my trust," he said. "Your spellbook is still under Ikithon's protection; I'm sorry."

Essek nodded. He still remembered the absolute, disgusting greed and satisfaction in the old man's eyes when his Wristpocket had been dispelled, the elegant tome bound in blue leather finally in his hands.

Putting the ring on, he made a gesture and his eyes flashed silver for a moment. An Amulet of Proof Against Detection and Location. He put it on. "I assume you intend to execute your plan today, yes?"

"I do, but, ah, you need to attune to that for a while first, an hour."

"Then, you have that long to tell me about it, Bren. I am all ears."

[i-drink-and-i-write-fics]

In The Midnight Hour

In The Midnight Hour - Sunny x Nix (Nix Pov) (One-shot? Seems more like a chapter piece at this point lol!):

Summary: Nix and Bren catch up on their day’s events, with Nix confessing her worries about Sunny. But Bren thinks there’s something that Nix is missing. And when the nightmares from that day find Nix, Sunny finds her.

TW: mentions of drug use and sexual harassment.

Notes: Requested by Bren. You wanted a part 2, you got it!

Even though there were no other marks on me besides the one on my cheek, Sunny still had me visit the doctor, Vernon. And after he confirmed the same - along with checking my cheek and giving me a fresh bandaid - he sent us off with instructions for Sunny on what to do when the shock did hit me.

Bren was sitting out front when Sunny rolled up on his bike, me clinging to his back. He raised an eyebrow but changed directions when he noticed my eye go to his bandaged hand. 

“Eventful day?”

“Could ask you the same,” I snarked back. 

“Let’s get you some food and water,” Sunny was at my back, silently prodding me into the house.

I nodded my head and let him take the lead. He spared me from having dinner with the Baron’s family and I couldn’t silently thank him enough for that. Though, part of me wondered if he was delaying telling Quinn what happened. 

Sunny made sure I ate my weight in comfort food and enough water to drown a person before he would even consider something to dull the pain.

“The, uh, doctor said you may be in pain.”

I shrugged, “nothing too bad. My cheek stings but I’ve had worse. I was a chef in my old life and I could show you the scars I got from that occupation. Just give me a couple of Tylenol and I’ll be good.”

Sunny’s confusion was loud on his face.

Sighing, I leaned back in my chair. “You know, pain meds? Asprin? Ibuprofen? Motrin?”

He cleared his throat, “we have opium.”

“Great,” I tilted my head back to stretch my neck before looking at Sunny again. “Whiskey then?”

Sunny studied my face for a moment. “You are the second person to turn the opium down.”

My thoughts immediately went to Bren and his wrapped hand. “Yeah, well opium isn’t our vibe, for a lack of a better term. Basically, it was not used at all by most people and I don’t want to go down that rabbit hole.”

He nodded his head and turned towards the door. “Follow me, please.”

Sunny lead me down a few hallways before we reached what looked to be a cross between a study and a living room. Where Bren was already nursing a glass of rum. Sunny grabbed a decanter and poured me a glass before silently exiting the room.

“So,” I nodded to Bren’s hand as I sat down, “how bad is it?”

“Boxer’s fracture.”

“Makes sense,” I took a sip of whiskey. I could say what I wanted about Quinn, but the man had good taste in liquor, no question.

“And you?” He eyed my cheek.

I didn’t want to worry Bren, he was already dealing with enough - broken hand and all. But I had joked back in our world that we had become two halves of a whole idiot. He would know if I was lying.

“Sunny and I ran into some Nomads as we walked back to his motorcycle. He took care of them very quickly.”

“Not quickly enough, it seems.”

I took a deep breath, “one snuck up on me and cut my cheek as I turned around. I managed to get his sword…”

Bren waited for me to finish.

“I killed him, Brenoir. And not just him. Another nomad tried to sneak up while Sunny was checking on me. I pushed him out of the way and used his dagger to kill the other nomad.”

“Jesus,” Bren breathed out. He launched out of his chair and tackled me in a hug, both of us barely hanging on to our glasses. “Is that why Sunny ran you off to the kitchen?”

“Yeah, doc’s orders. Made sure I had food and water in me to soften the shock. I don’t know what I’ll do when it finally hits.”

“Find me. Do you hear me?” He pulled away to look into my grey eyes. “Nix, you find me. We’ll sit up all night talking if need be.”

I just nodded my head and we sat back down. After a pause, I told Bren everything that happened after he left with Quinn to get his hand fixed. And after asking again if I was ok, he became silent. And I look I recognized came over his face.

“Seven Hells, what?”

“You say Sunny was concerned?”

“Considering these douche canoes wanted to take me and gods do you-know-what to me, I would be highly offended if he hadn’t been concerned.”

“That’s not what I’m referring to, Phoenix, and you know it. He could have just patched you up and brought you back.”

“Bren, you’re reading too much into this. He needed to make sure I was ok so I wouldn’t fall off his damn motorcycle.”

He got that look on his face, saying without words that I was a dumbass. I just shook my head at him.

“Nope, uh uh. Not today, Satan. He’s just doing his job. He was supposed to babysit me and he did. Then end. And as fun as this has been, the adrenaline is wearing off. I’m going to be.”

“If you say so,” he took a sip of his drink. “You know where to find me.”

Indeed, I did. But he also knew as well as I that I would stubbornly fight the dream alone. So I slipped into my room alone, not even bothering to change as I chugged the rest of my whiskey. If the dreams were coming, I refused to run screaming out of this room in some flimsy nightgown like some eighteenth-century ghost. 

My brain didn’t disappoint as it replayed the fight over and over again in my dreams. Only this time, Sunny wasn’t fast enough. I wasn’t quick enough. We weren’t strong enough. 

I woke up in a sweat, the room disorienting me for a moment. And once it dawned on me where I was, that wasn’t really any better. I was stuck in a world I didn’t know. A dangerous world where it was quite literally kill or be killed. And I had done exactly that. 

Flinging the covers off of me, I made a quiet dash to the kitchen to get some water. I had never been out of my room at night and I really hope whoever was on security wasn’t the ‘kill first ask questions later’ type. I had never been so glad for there not to be any guns. I could dodge a blade long enough for said security to recognize me.

But no blade ever came for me and so I finished my water before heading out for a nightly stroll. 

As I walked, I found a greenhouse towards the back of the main house and quietly stepped inside. And was instantly greeted with the beautiful smells of night-blooming flowers and ferns that had grown beyond their pots. The only gardens I had frequented back in my old world were one filled with edible plants, wanting the freshes plants possible to cook with. Bren would love this place.

And then I felt him, as I always did before I heard or saw him. My watcher. Not outside the glass walls, but just behind me.

“You’re lucky I can pick up your presence now, or I might have jumped out of my skin at someone sneaking up on me.”

Sunny snorted. “I don’t believe that any more than you do. Even in your shock state, I highly doubt you scare so easily.”

I couldn’t help the smile on my face as I turned to face him. “Your faith in me is astounding.”

He smirked back, “it’s almost as high as my loyalty to Quinn.”

I couldn’t help the snort as I tried to hold back a laugh. “Big praise from the Regent.”

He frowned at that. “Back to formalities?”

I could feel my face heat up at his words for some reason and was glad I didn’t blush. “Only when teasing. I think you’ve earned that after saving my ass today.”

His smile was genuine as he looked down at me. “And you saved mine.”

“I guess I did.” I awkwardly paused as I had always been bad at expressing emotions outside of writing. “Thank you, Sunny. For saving me today. I have a very good guess as to why those men wanted me. Great to know no matter what world I’m in, I’m just something warm on a lonely night.”

“Nix…” but I shook my head.

“No, please don’t try to sugarcoat it. I’m old enough to know better. I’m not blind. Those men have been out in the wilderness for a very long time. Even if I wasn’t built like…well, not important. The outcome would have still been the same. I’m used to coming across guys like that.”

Sunny gently reached up and touched my chin. “Nix, has this happened to you before?”

“Not this exact scenario. But in my world…it’s not uncommon for women to have stories like this. To some degree. And not some women. All woman. I have yet to come across a woman or a woman presenting person who hasn’t had some form of sexual harassment happen to them.”

“Nix,” his voice was so soft as he said my name that I almost fell into a trance.

I reached up and grabbed his wrist, meaning to move back. But my body refused to obey. “It’s ok, Sunny. It’s the nature of the world, unfortunately.”

“It doesn’t have to be.”

“With men like Quinn in charge? I’m amazed neither he nor the other Clippers have tried anything yet.”

“Are you amazed I haven’t tried anything?”

“Sunny-” I tried to look away, but he grabbed my chin tighter to look into his brown eyes.

“I’m serious, Nix. Do you think I could do that?”

It was hypnotically quiet and all I could hear was our hearts beating. “No, Sunny. I don’t. I may not have known you long, but the one thing I can brag about is my ability to read people. You may be a Clipper to Quinn, but I can see you’re a good man. You would never take what wasn’t given.”

“What wasn’t given,” he whispered.

I could almost read what was going through his mind on his face. But then a loud bang from someone stumbling into the garden tools just outside broke the moment and Sunny and I jumped apart.

A Clipper’s vows are like marriage vows, and Quinn’s a jealous husband.

Bren’s words rang in my ears. This was dangerous territory.

Sunny seemed to be on the same page, or he actually could read my thoughts. “Let me take you back to your room. You really should try to sleep.”

I nodded my head and let him take me back, the question of what-if left behind in the greenhouse.

Tagging Crew

Everything:

@itsafansworld07​

@that-chick212​

@keetnerj01​

Into The Badlands:

@themerriweathermage​

[stargazing-imagines]

Songwriting Blues (Steve Sanders)

Summary : you are the younger sister to Brenda and Brandon Walsh who unfortunately don’t attend West Beverly , and you are having a hard time coming up with an original song for your songwriting class so you go to the peach pit to seek inspiration which doesn’t go so well

Pairing : Steve Sanders x Fem!OC

Warnings : None

Y/N Walsh was the youngest Sister of the twins Brenda and Brandon Walsh, people would say that she was a little bit different then the two twins.

Y/N was very... unique, and talente

Instead of you attending west Beverly high with your siblings and their friends, you attended a preforming arts school. It was different but you grew to like it.

You were in your room working on a project that your music teacher had assigned as you were trying to come up with lyrics.

"Ugh this project is so hard," you exclaimed as you planted your face into your hands frustrated about the project.

Your older sister Brenda came in as she looked at you, you sensed someone looking at you so you looked up.

"Need some help?" Asked Brenda as she smiled before walking into your room, you on the other hand were losing it. 

"Mr Hoshburger expects everyone to come up with an own original song by tomorrow and here I am sitting here and I got nothing," you said "I wish I was attending west Beverly with you and Brandon,"

"Hey you were the one that convinced mom and dad to let you attend the school," said Brenda "besides you auditioned so there's no turning back now,"

"Yeah I'm starting to regret that," you said as you flicked your pencil down

"Hey me and Dylan were going to go to go to the peach pit, why don't you come with us?"

"Wait, you want me to come hang with you and your friends at the peach pit?" You asked as you scoffed "that's new,"

"I know but maybe getting out of the house will motivate you to writing an original song plus Who wouldn't want to hang with Dylan McKay?" You looked at your sister Brenda as you pondered on the idea "Maybe your right, I'll come with ya guys,"

"Great we're leaving in 30 minutes," said Brenda as she got up from your bed walking towards the door

———

You, Brenda, and Dylan arrived at the peach pit. You walked in with your notepad/song book, you were about to sit where the counter was before Brenda stopped you

"Why don't you say hi to my friends? There'll love you," said Brenda as she dragged you to where Kelly and Donna were sitting

"I don't know Brenda I don't want to intrude," you said as you looked at your sister, who rolled her eyes "Come on, please?" Pleaded Brenda

"Bren if she doesn't want to go over there she doesn't have to," said your older brother Brandon as he walked to where the two of you were

"Brandon, she would rather hang out with my friends then with your friends,"

"I don't know guys I only came here to get ideas on this song project, so if you excuse me I'll sit over here," you said as you walked to a booth before sitting down

"Great you scared her off," said Brandon as he raised an eyebrow to his sister who scoffed

"Oh who cares," said Brenda as she waved it off at Brandon before walking over to her friends.

———

It has been a few minutes and you still had nothing except for greasy fries and greasy Hamburgers.

"Have you made progress?" Asked your brother Brandon as he bought over a pie before sitting across from you, you looked up

"Nope," you said as you sat your pencil down “and I’m getting worried,” as you placed her forehead into the palms of your hands

"I thought you and your friends never come in here what made you come in here?" Said Brandon “because it was to... uncool for you,”

"We don't but that’s not point I just want to come up with a song but I can't because your bothering me,"

"Hey if you need an idea for a song why not write about me?" Asked a curly haired boy as he tried to flirt with you

"I could but I don't know you," you said as you looked up "who is he?" You asked looking at your brother who laughed

"That's Steve, Steve this is my younger sister Y/N," Said Brandon, Steve examined you as you went back to your song, he smiled before speaking

"I didn't know the Walsh's had a sister, how come I've never seen you at West Beverly?" Flirted Steve as he looked down at you

"I go to a performing arts school that's why," you said "now would you please leave me alone?"

"Again, why not write a song about me?"

"In your dreams," you said before walking out leaving Steve standing there as your brother tried not to laugh at your comeback

"She wants me," said Steve as he looked at Brandon, who laughed before stopping

"Yeah sure pal," said Brandon as he patted Steve on the back before going back to work

_____

Beverly Hills 90210 masterlist

[professorthaddeus]

Out of Sight

This is a companion piece to @io-kj-cr‘s heartbreaking fic, Decisions, an AU of 2x128 where Caleb gives himself up to Trent. Would highly recommend checking it out!

also on ao3

—————————— 

They let him go. 

The chips were down, they were out of options with enemies at the door, Mama and Yeza and little Luc were not going to be trapped in a building with Icky-thong, and in that moment of weakness, they let him go.

“Cad, what do you see?” Fjord, grim. Caduceus is standing at the one window in the room, chosen for his keen ability to read people to keep an eye on the exchange.

The exchange. They’re selling Caleb back to the grossest person in the Empire, to his literal lifelong tormentor, and they’re just sitting here like it’s nothing. 

“They’re not hurting him. They’re just talking.” Caduceus’ voice rumbles in a steady cadence, ever the rock in the rapids. But Jester sees how his knuckles are clenched white around his staff. 

“Is he… how does he look?”

Veth, piping up from the floor, clutching Caleb’s spellbooks to her chest. Yeza’s holding her, Luc sitting uncharacteristically still by their side. He’s got a book in his hands as well. Jester’s heart thuds painfully when she recognizes the title as a collection of Zemnian fairy tales.

“He’s standing tall.”

Of course he is. They’ve all seen Caleb file away his fears and stitch himself together in the moments that really count. They’ve also seen him shake apart immediately afterwards.

This time, none of them are going to be there to help him pick up the pieces.

“This doesn’t sit well with me,” Yasha says quietly, fingers twitching toward her swords.

“Yeah, no shit.” Beau, pacing, coiled like she’s ready to pounce. “This was such a bad plan. I say we go ahead and attack them now. They’re busy with Caleb, so we could absolutely ambush them in a pincer move, or—“

“They’re gone.”

“What do you mean, gone?” Beau rushes to the window, where Caduceus is stepping aside. He leans back against the wall, looking lost in a way Jester hasn’t seen since his first time on the sea.

“I mean he and his friends stepped into a portal and disappeared.”

Beau’s jaw tightens. “They’re not his friends.”

“I don’t know,” Fjord murmurs, though Jester knows he would definitely be fuming as well if Beau wasn’t so close to the edge right now. “They did warn us they were coming.” He holds up his hands when Beau shoots him a withering look. “It could be a good thing. They might help us get him back.”

“With or without their help, I wasn’t kidding when I said our next step was going to be a jailbreak,” she mutters.

“Agreed.”

Veth lets out a shaky breath. “And he’ll be okay until then. He just has to hold on for one night, and we’ll go get him. He’s the smartest, most capable of us all; he’ll be fine.”

“Yeah, he’s way more powerful than them,” Jester adds, automatic. Something twists in her chest.

“Sure, except he doesn’t even have his fucking spellbooks.”

For once, Veth flinches instead of snapping a retort back at Beau.

“You keep these safe for me until I return, ja?”

“I don’t like this, Cay. There has to be another way.” There’s a tremor in Veth’s hands as she takes the books.

“There isn’t, and we are running out of time. Besides, he won’t kill me. He… ah, he has said many times already he simply wishes to talk.”

Jester winces. It’s going to be a long time before she forgets the haunted look that appeared in Caleb’s eyes every time Trent’s voice slithered into his ear today.

“Be good for your mother and father,” Caleb’s saying, ruffling Luc’s hair. 

He straightens to look at the rest of them, meeting their eyes one by one. Jester can almost hear him counting in his head. 

A wall slams down over his expression as he squares his shoulders.

“I am so sorry about all this.” He continues before any of them can protest. “Thank you all.”

Jester tries not to think it sounds like a goodbye.

She shoves the image of Caleb’s pale, determined face out of her head, swallowing the building lump in her throat. The last thing she needs—the last thing Mama needs—is for her to break down right now. 

“Well,” she hedges into the silence, “he’s got like, a really good memory, you guys. Maybe he doesn’t need them. Maybe he remembers all his spells.”

“I don’t—“ Beau starts, before taking a deep breath. Yasha’s hand is slipping into hers. She softens her tone. “I don’t think that’s how it works, Jes.”

“Oh.”

“Jester, I’m so sorry.” Mama speaks up from where she’s been sitting anxiously beside her. There’s so much regret in her face. “Your friend, he—”

“No, no, Mama, no.” She’s been so strong today, and Jester’s so, so proud of her for facing her fears, but she never should have been forced to do it. “This isn’t your fault at all. We brought them to you.”

Technically, she brought them here. Caleb can blame himself all he wants, but Jester’s the one who put a target on Nicodranas in that letter to Astrid all those months ago and the one who dropped Mama’s name into a conversation with an enemy guard just a few hours ago.

“Who… are they?”

“They’re, um.” Her voice wavers. She swallows again. “They’re bad people. Really, really bad people.”

“Oh, my Sapphire,” Mama hums, and it’s kind of crazy how those three words can sound like music from her lips. She reaches up to cup Jester’s cheek. “You and your friends are some of the most amazing people I’ve met. “And you,” she brushes her thumb gently across her skin, “are more creative than anyone in the world. You’ll find a way.”

Mama presses a kiss to the top of her head and then takes her hands. They’re smooth, warm. Jester looks down. Red and blue, just like when she was little, except now her hands can’t be fully covered by Mama’s. She’s grown up and stepped out of Mama’s arms and the sanctuary of their Chateau. Just like she always dreamed and plotted with Artie. It’s all she can do not to cry.

“Yeah. Yeah, you’re right,” she manages, tries for a watery smile.

“Jester,” Yasha ventures gingerly. “Can’t you talk to him?”

She shakes her head, blinking away the blurriness. “Not until tomorrow. I don’t have the energy left to cast a spell.” 

Caduceus clears his throat. “Good.” The rest of them look to him, startled. “Now there’s nothing to do but get some sleep so we’ll be ready for tomorrow. Mr. Wensforth, can you help us set something up for the night?”

The poor goblin looks up from where he’s been wringing his hands in the corner. Jester doesn’t blame him. 

Man, Yussa’s gonna be super pissed when he wakes up to find so many people in his tower.

She can’t imagine how she’s supposed to fall asleep, but Caduceus makes her drink some tea, and eventually she feels the tension of the day seep into her bones. Before it claims her consciousness, she brings the symbol of the Traveler to her chest.

“Artie, look out for him, okay?”

——— 

In the morning, Beau and Caduceus wake her and the others, careful not to disturb Mama, Yeza, or Luc.

Jester tucks the blanket around Mama a little more securely before heading out.

They all cluster together in a smaller room off of one of the tower’s winding stairwells. Caduceus starts passing around breakfast, but she declines, sitting in the middle of the floor instead and prepping a familiar spell. 

Fjord gives her an encouraging nod, holding ten fingers up at the ready. 

She focuses on the image of her friend, on the furrow in his brow as he wields magic like a weapon, on the way his eyes crinkle when he offers one of his soft, rare smiles. She fires up Sending.

“Caleb! Are you alright? Where are you? Are you hurt? Are you in Rexxentrum? I’m sorry, I had to wait until today to Send to reach you but we’re—”

Fjord’s nudging her, signaling the end of the spell. Jester blows a strand of hair out of her face, tapping her fingers against her knee.

She waits five seconds, ten, a minute. No response.

She bites her lip. “You guys—”

Beau’s there already, tugging her into a hug as Fjord gives her shoulder a reassuring squeeze. Veth lets out a muffled noise of frustration.

“He could just not be in a place where he can talk freely right now, we don’t know,” Caduceus says evenly.

“Maybe I should try Astrid?”

Beau shifts, but she doesn’t let go. “I dunno, man, I don’t trust her.”

“She loves Caleb,” Veth says, but again, none of her usual ferocity is there.

“Yeah, maybe.” Beau’s face darkens. “And now she has him back.”

Her words hang heavy in the air.

Jester shakes herself. “Look, fuck it, I’m just going to do it.” She takes a deep breath.

“Astrid,” she chirps. “Is Caleb with you? Tell him to talk to me when he can. Oh also, if any of you hurt him, we’re totally gonna find you and make sure you never—”

“That’s it, Jester.”

“You should send another one. Let her hear the end of your threat,” Yasha says, and Jester swears she can hear thunder roll beneath the mild suggestion.

Fjord cracks something resembling a smile. “As entertaining as that would be, I think—“

Jester shushes them as Astrid’s voice comes back. 

Good morning, Jester. Bren is well and unharmed. He is here with us and under no restraints or compulsion. He is home now.

Jester growls. 

“What did she say?”

“That Caleb’s okay and like, he’s home, or some total bullshit. She’s wrong, obviously.” She has to be. Jester ignores the building pressure in her chest, flicks her wrist to cast again.

“Please, tell me something, tell me anything, tell me you’re fine, or dead, but please, we need to hear from you, we need to plan our next moves and we can get you out of there as long as you just—” Fjord squeezes her hand. Stupid, stupid spell with stupid word limits.

Nothing on the other end anyway. Her eyes sting, and this time, Jester doesn’t try to stop the sob in her throat.

“I’ll keep messaging you, please Caleb, we’re scared and worried, please tell us where you are, we can fix this, we can get you back!”

Finally, finally, Caleb speaks.

I am well, Jester; returning was my decision, and I am unharmed.

He sounds so tired.

I need you all to stay away. Stay safe. I am sorry.

Silence once more.

Jester’s messages have reached across thousands of miles, over oceans and barren wastelands and enemy lines. This is the first time she’s felt the yawning distance the magic has to travel.

She swipes at her eyes, glaring through her tears. 

She knows what he’s doing. It’s what he’s always done, protect and shield and give and give and give like it’s all he’s good for. But she’s also seen him start to unfurl, seen him laugh more and trust more and take one careful step after another out of the shadows of his past. He knows he’s part of their family. They just need to help him remember what that means.

“He said something,” Veth guesses.

“Something awful and self-sacrificing?” Beau mutters. 

“Yeah.” 

Jester pushes back her sleeves, and she can feel a breeze drift into the chamber, the rustle of a green cloak at her side.

“It doesn’t matter. We’re going to get him, now.”

[themerriweathermage]

Whiskey and Cinnamon

Summary: Bren doesn’t remember all the details of how he’s ended up at The Fort, nor does he expect of all things for his company to be Quinn. But the baron stays regardless of Bren being awake and conscious and maybe, just maybe...

Pairing: Baron Quinn X OMC (Bren)

POV: 1st and 3rd Person

Taglist: @my-fandom-musings​

WARNINGS: Mention of Torture, Mention of Drugs, Lots of Angst

Divider Credit: firefly-graphics

“Are you, are you comin' to the tree?

Where they strung up a man, they say who murdered three

Strange things did happen here, no stranger would it be

If we met at midnight in the hanging tree.”

I don’t remember my world going dark. I don’t remember anything but a white road. There’s a voice that lingers in my memory, in the back of my mind, and a song that I know from a world that is not this one. There are pillows beneath my head, a bed beneath my body. But I can’t open my eyes-- I can’t open my eyes and be greeted with the fact that this is only a dream. I clutch the pillow in my arms closer to my body, nuzzling into it. There’s a scent here that I can’t immediately place, whiskey and cinnamon, and... “Quinn.” The word slips out in a whisper, torn from a raw throat.

“Mmmm.” A low noise sounded from beside the bed, and I opened my eyes slowly. The room was fairly dark, save for a lamp illuminating the corner and a chair that was occupied by Quinn. I blinked slightly, sinking back down into the pillows. Why was he here? Why was he... oh this was just a dream, wasn’t it? It always was; they were always just out of reach. “Did you just call my name?” Quinn turned in the chair, sleep growl still in his voice, and I doubly blinked, raising up slightly.

“You’re real?” 

Quinn would never admit it, but the shock in Bren’s voice utterly ruined him in that moment. Did he think this was a dream? Perhaps so... Quinn had never walked that path; he had never been captured-- not as a Colt, not as a Clipper, and definitely not as a Baron. He would have never walked with his capturers so willingly, but he couldn’t fault Bren either for knowing his own strengths and weaknesses, and knowing he was outnumbered seven to one, eight if he counted Ryder among that mess. Instead Quinn offered his hand across the bed, wrist bandaged, and breached into Bren’s personal space.

“I’m real.”

He was offering his hand to me, laying it across the pillow. Would to take it mean to acknowledge that this was real? I reached for it, only to immediately recoil, hand going to the stitches on my neck and collarbone as I hissed out a curse between my teeth.

“I’ll get the doc. I’m sure he’ll want to give you a dose of...”

“No.” I panted it out softly. “I don’t want the opium.” I leaned back into the pillows. Oh, now the pain was starting to rear its ugly head. Now, it felt like I’d been... tortured. Well, there it was, wasn’t it?

“Bren, you’re in pain.” Quinn started. Did he just call me by my name? That thought was quickly overshadowed. It hurt to breathe, let alone everything else. I gave him a sideways glance; he was half out of the chair, giving me a questioning glance.

“Along the river outside the Fort grows white willow. The bark can be harvested from the new growth, dried, and used to make tea.” I muttered.

“I--”

“It contains salicin. It’s used as a pain reliever and a fever reducer.” I wet my lips, finding my mouth rather dry. I was surprised to find a glass at my lips not a few moments later, Quinn holding it for me to drink.

“Would Vernon know it?”

“I would think any good healer should. Its use out-dates modern medicine.” I took a sip of the water. Never have I been so grateful for such a thing in my life. Drinking river water had been a necessity but it was dangerous, especially without proper supplies.

“I’ll see what I can do.” Quinn murmured, nearly out the door as soon as I’d finished drinking.

“Quinn.”

“Hm?”

“Watch out for the hornet’s nest.” Just the hint of a smile twitched to his lips and he nodded in my direction. 

His leave was surprisingly replaced by Lydia, and oh, I couldn’t tell her how much I didn’t want her to be in there, with the knowledge that I was her son’s executioner. Quinn likely didn’t care; I knew Lydia would. So I just shut my eyes and tried to block out the pain, tried to block out the images that filtered into my mind. It had been about survival, yes, but I could have survived without killing Ryder. Being the baron’s son gave him power, not prowess and not strength. And I had killed him in cold blood.

I shifted to the side best I could, burying my nose back into the pillow. She hummed out an amused sound. “Quinn has a soft spot for you.” I didn’t answer. At this point I knew that if I started talking, it would all just spill out. “I don’t think I’ve ever seen him so wound up about someone. Hells, even when Ryder was taken, Quinn didn’t give a shit like this.”

I must have taken her off guard when I finally did speak, voice even, measured, but incredibly flat. “Please leave.” Lydia was startled, giving me a glance.

“What?”

“Go. Get out. I don’t want you here.” I’m sure my voice carried no threats but she stood regardless.

“But Quinn...”

“Get out. Get Sunny or Nix or even Waldo, but don’t come back in here.” She disappeared through the doorway and I breathed out a heavy sigh, sinking back into the heavy weight of sleep.

“Willow bark tea...” My eyes fluttered to the sound of Vernon’s voice. “You know you’re the first person in a long time to explicitly ask for anything other than the opium. Baron Quinn would never let it be anything less than the finest quality in all the Badlands.”

I let out an annoyed grunt, opening my eyes wearily. “Of all the foolhardy, stubborn seeds to survive a literal apocalypse, why in the seven hells did it have to be the opium poppy?”

“Well, it’s...” Vernon moved about the room, setting to brewing the tea. “Medicinal and recreational. Popular.”

“So is cannabis but I don’t see it wandering around the Badlands like a cash crop.” Vernon gave a dry chuckle.

“Cannabis is picky. The poppy is, as you said it yourself, foolhardy.” He took a seat in the formerly occupied chair. “You went through hell. You survived. Opium will take your mind off that trauma.”

“I don’t want it.”

“May I ask why?” Vernon asked. I regarded him quietly.

“Because I know myself, and if I start down that path, I won’t stop.” I replied. “Whatever you can do with herbs, do with herbs and keep the opium out of it.”

“Do you think you could eat?” I shook my head slightly.

“I just want to sleep.” And sleep and sleep and sleep. Sleep until the pain goes away. Vernon nodded.

“That’s to be expected.” He moved again, pouring a cup of the warm steeped tea into a mug and helping me to drink it. I let myself drift after he left, barely registering Quinn coming back in the room to occupy the abandoned chair. He was staying?

This time when I woke, morning light was beginning to stream in through the windows. Sometime in the midst of the night Quinn had apparently laid his arm across the pillows again, and I had apparently taken his hand for my own. None of this was familiar, of course, and he was rather sprawled out in the chair, legs propped up on a footstool and head tipped back... He was asleep? Given the rhythmic breathing, I’d say so. 

Why had he stayed? I tentatively studied his hand, calloused no doubt from the blade or his time in the fields. And then my eyes flicked to his bandaged wrist, fingers tracing a line up into his palm when he jerked awake. “Did I do this to you?”

“Mm?” Quinn furrowed his brow, glancing in my direction with a confused look. I traced the rows of the bandage on his wrist.

“Did I do this to you?”

“Mm.” He tipped his head back again. “One of the nomads slipped through my defenses.” That sounded believable, even if it somehow didn’t sit right. “However, you did bite me.” I nearly snorted, burying my face against the pillows. Even in the seriousness of it all, that sounded like something I would do.

“‘M sorry.” I mumbled out.

“You were fighting for your life. You didn’t know who I was.” Quinn replied. “I will not fault you for making a quick decision in the heat of the moment.”

“You came for me?” His eyes flicked to mine. “I don’t remember.”

Bren looked so broken. Shock and surprise and... something else, hidden behind the pain in his eyes. “You are safe here.” Quinn murmured. With me.

[laurelleghuleh]

OCAF | Ch. 4 “A word to the wise”

Warnings: read the masterlist first

Songs: “Poison” by Bren Faiyaz, “Pacify Her” by Melanie Martinez 

LEVI'S POV (from the night before)

I tried to slow down my breathing. I was panting.

"C'mon captain, it's time to go to sleep, right?" she whispered softly, like she was trying to reassure me. I could sense her eyes traveling all over me, but I couldn't even dare to look at her, so I continued staring at the door's handle beside her right arm. Then I saw her raising her hand to her chin, massaging slowly all the way to her jaw and cheek too. Did I hurt you? I hurt you. Why did I react like that? What got into me all of a sudden?

I grabbed her hand. It was my fault. I shouldn't have acted like that. I'm sorry. Daphne, I'm sorry.

While I stopped her right hand with mine, I slowly raised the other one, cupping her cheek. Her skin felt so smooth... so silky under my touch. Did I hurt you? Then, I placed my palm on her neck, moving slowly my thumb on her jaw. Does it hurt? Tell me where it hurts. Daphne, I'm sorry.

I wanted to tell her, to tell her how sorry I was but my pride silenced me. I only stared at her.

Her eyes trembled. As far as I could tell she wasn't sad or even afraid, she rather looked... embarrassed? Her cheeks got suddenly red. Maybe I am actually making her uncomfortable. I should stop. I should just let her be. And so I did.

I sighed soundly and after stroking her cheek once more I left, without saying a word. What a coward. I really was.

I quickly rushed into my room, shutting the door behind me with all my strength.

What got into me? What was I thinking? Conflicted thoughts populated my mind. I'm sorry.

I know I should be suspicious of her. We still can't fully trust her. Even though... She is actually behaving herself. Since we arrested her, she didn't anything wrong. She's always neat, her uniform tidy, and her scent, her scent it's making me going crazy these days. She smells really good, like something sweet and warm. Anyway...she's never late or rude to anyone – well except for those who deserve it... and me. I quite deserved it too. I wasn't the nicest to her either.

She did well at her training sessions, during the assembly and then she even helped Hange and Eren. The way that night she apologized for Farlan and Isabel, what kind of criminal do such a thing? She's probably a decent human being.

And yet, I needed to make all this up, act bossy all the time with her to test her, to test her loyalty. I should just continue like this, after all, I am the captain and I should be impassive with her. I cannot make exceptions. I cannot, even if she smells good. Even if she comes from the underground, just like me. Even if she worked as a prostitute, just like my mum. How could I possibly forget what she told me last time? I'm the only one who can actually imagine the pain she's been through.

And yet, I acted like a dick all the time. That being said, I can't even treat her better just because I pity her or else... Even though, I don't think is pity what I feel for her... However, four-eyes is right for once, I should just cut her some slack. If I want her to trust us, I firstly should trust her.

First thing in the morning I picked Eren up and we went to the cafeteria. This time, as I was preparing Daphne's breakfast, I foolishly thought about getting her a bigger plate, full of everything I could have found there before that flock of brats came. What am I even doing? I'm glad Eren didn't ask me anything about it. He was still too afraid of me to stick his nose in my business... and to be honest, I didn't even know what I could have ever answered if he'd asked. What am I even doing?

However, she was already there. On-time, as always. So, I handed her the plate and the cup I had prepared.

She definitely noticed the difference. She smiled at me, giving me a better look at her face, illuminated by a ray of sunlight, coming from behind me. I checked over her face and neck to see if there was any sign of yesterday. She noticed me checking her too. She looks fine. She even looks tranquil. I'm glad.

Nevertheless, I discharged both of them soon after and went outside to meet the rest of the squad. I informed them that both Eren and Daphne would have traveled with us to the castle.

"Tch, really? That girl is coming with us?" I heard. I knew it was Oruo.

"Exactly. And you better watch your mouth this time or that will be your last words. Understood?" I spat.

"Y-yes, sir"

"You are a boor sometimes, Oruo" said Petra.

Once Eren and Daphne had joined us, we departed. During the trip Petra tried her best to interact with Daphne, asking her pretty general questions. They look so different and yet so similar. I observed them the whole time. At some point, we arrived and the castle looked worse than I expected. It was a mess.

"Listen up everybody. I want this place spotless" I commanded "Let's start from the inside. Eld, Gunther you two will take care of the towers and the last floor. Petra, Oruo, the dorms and rooms on the second floor. Eren, Daphne, on the first floor. Then we'll proceed with the rest of the building when the other soldiers will join us"

"Yessir" They shouted in chorus.

DAPHNE'S POV

I patted Eren on the back "Let's go, buddy". In response, he only snorted.

The captain provided us with all the essentials for cleaning, therefore we started straight away.

"So, captain Levi is a clean-freak... I thought it was just a rumor" said a quite annoyed Eren.

"Well, how could you blame him? This place looks like a dump" I replied.

"It's not only about cleaning..." Interrupted us Petra entering the room "He wants everything spotless, to the point where he can see his reflection on the surface" she lightly laughed.

"Oh, Eren try not to look so discouraged" she then continued "You Daphne, on the other hand, you don't seem that much bothered by it"

"Cleaning is not a big deal. The satisfaction after it is the reward, I suppose"

"Oh no, she's one of them!" playfully shouted Eren.

I laughed, he looked so silly "When I was younger, I was the one in charge of the housekeeping – If you could call that a house I thought - among my... - sisters?- sisters, so I'm kind of used to these things"

"Oh, so you have sisters! Are you the oldest?" cheered Petra.

"Not really, but I've always acted like I was-"

"More cleaning, less speaking" said Levi entering the room. He started sifting through the whole room, passing his index on each surface. Though we did work hard, so he couldn't complain much.

"Since you're almost done here, Daphne you'll go downstairs and start cleaning there. Eren when you'll be done with those curtains, you'll help her out down there. Understood?"

"Yessir" we answered in sync.

And so I did. When I passed beside Levi to leave the room, he looked at me with a glimpse of satisfaction.

Once there, I could smell something strong, which was almost intoxicating me "I better get to work... This place looks more like a basement rather than a prison. I wonder how low it goes...".

A little curiosity sparked in me. This is an old military base. This place goes a couple of levels under the ground. What if this place could hide some passage? Could that be possible? When I was looking for secret passages to get my sisters out of there, I remember reading about the undisclosed routes used by soldiers to get a faster way to the underground. Could I-?

Completely distracted by my own thoughts, I tripped into something. What the heck- a handle? Could it be a... trapdoor? To the underground?

I wasn't overthinking it too much and I promptly opened it. Dark, I can't see a damn thing...Well, now or never, let's go. The descent was very difficult since I couldn't see much, but I tried my best to follow the walls of the pipe. At some point I suddenly fell into a hole, hitting hard on my spine. That must have been a dozen meters.The pain got even worse when I realized how dirty it was. I was completely covered with mud and dust. Once I had recovered a little, I tried to look around me. My eyes already got used to the dark and I could see a couple of corridors in front of me, one of them more illuminated than the other. Here goes nothing I thought getting closer to that corridor.

The light was feeble and it came from a couple of manholes on the ground. Oh my...And then I saw it. The underground. Right there. Its pungent smell. Its lifeless colors. Its desolation.

Damn, how high am I right now? I could never make it from here... unless... unless I could use my 3d maneuver gear. I could use it. I could and I will. Maybe tonight or tomorrow night, if Levi doesn't follow me. There's no other way. I don't know the surface. I would never make it to the underground traveling around the districts up there. I don't know where to find a gate to the underground. Instead, this passage will take me right where I want to go. This is my only chance to escape. I'll think about it, but now I really have to go before they realize I'm gone.

Going back, I heard some noises coming from above.

I rushed back but I found myself stuck in the middle of the corridors where I had fallen before. The hole was too high and the place too dark.

"Oi, are you there?" I heard coming from above. Is that Levi? Oh no... oh no... ok, don't panic. Don't panic.

"Captain?? Is that you??" I tried to scream like I was scared or else.

"Take this rope" he shouted.

"Ok, I'm coming up"

I started to climb, but the mud on my hands made me slipped twice. I eventually made it almost to the end of the rope, but still I couldn't see anything. I suddenly felt a hand under my forearm and another one behind my back.

"C'mon you're almost there" I heard Levi saying, pretty close to me.

He caught me off guard with that move and I almost fell. But in that position, he was able to catch me. I practically collapsed on him as we ended up on the ground, in a sort of weird embrace.

"Are you ok?" asked Levi, only a couple of inches from my face.

"Y-yes. T-thank you for rescuing me..." I stuttered.

"Eren, couldn't find you, so I rushed here..." Did he rush here? To find me? Oh yeah. What if I escaped, right? What if your dear prisoner made it out of here?

"What the fuck were you doing down here?" He continued, getting up. His tone had suddenly changed. Maybe he had realized that I could have actually escaped down there.

"I was cleaning and I suddenly fell in the trapdoor...C'mon, let's go back" I promptly replied.

He didn't say anything and just followed me. Once out of there, some curious scouts were waiting for me in the hallways, mumbling and whispering behind my back, as I passed between them completely covered by dirt.

Once close to the dormitory hall, Levi started to talk again "What were you actually doing down there?"

"I've already told you. I fell" I replied.

"You fell onto the trapdoor... and then walked all the way to that hole? Did you roll or something?"

"Funny. Very funny. No, I just couldn't see anything, I was so confused and then-" My fake excuse was providentially interrupted.

"Daphne! What happened- Oh, captain Levi, I didn't see you there" said Eren, running towards us.

"Ehi kid, don't worry. I'm fine. I just fell" I said eyeing Levi.

"Ok, that's good to hear. See you at the cafeteria then..." and so he left.

"If you excuse me, captain, I'll go and take a shower now. You should do as well" I said entering my room, once again next to his.

"Tch" I heard coming from him and nothing else.

Another close call...I thought. I hope he won't mind too much. But I know, he will.

It was time for me to head to the cafeteria. Leaving my room, I saw Levi coming out of his. What a coincidence, lucky me.

"Captain" I said. But again, nothing. He stayed silent, glaring at me. Then, he gestured me to follow him. I'm this close to punch him, but now I'm not in the position to make him even angrier with me. Calm down, Daphne, calm down.

When we entered the cafeteria, everyone was looking in my direction, again. Don't get anxious, don't get anxious. Maybe they are looking at Levi.

I was following Levi to his squad's table when I heard someone calling my name. It was Eren.

"Daphne, the guys wanted to ask you if you'd like to join us for lunch..."

"Ehm, I don't know if I'm allowed to..." I eyed Levi like I was asking for his permission. He left without saying a word, so I followed Eren to his table, where Mikasa, Armin, Sasha, Jean and Connie were.

They were all pretty nice to me, I must admit. We spoke about everything and anything.

"I was wondering how old are you Daphne?" said Eren at some point.

Jean immediately hit him on the back of his head "Don't you know you don't ask a woman's age".

"No biggie, your question is totally fair. I'm definitely older than you. I'm 24".

They were all impressed by my answer. "I'd have bet you were 19 or 20. However, you look younger than you are" said Connie.

"Thanks, I take it as a compliment, Connie" I softly smiled. I'm still not used to receive compliments or things like that.

Soon after Mikasa, who was right in front of me, spoke "I wanted to thank you Daphne... for the other day, at the sentence. I could have made it worse if you didn't stop me..."

"Oh, don't mention it. I was as confused as you were, but I kept my faith in captain Levi's actions" I replied straight away. She shyly smiled in response.

"Talking about the captain..." started Sasha, next to me "Isn't he staring at you?".

"No, he's probably surveillingme" I said without overthinking it. On second thought, he was actually staring at me. I sensed his eyes from the opposite side of the room. He was looking at me so fiercely, I could feel his eyes directly into my soul.

Without looking away from me, he continued eating and drinking. I couldn't tell how much time passed. "Well, if you call that surveilling..." said Sasha, like she was hinting at something else.

What the fuck does Levi want from me?

"If you don't mind me asking... But, what kind of relationship do you have with the captain?" I don't know who asked me that, probably it was Sasha again, but I was still focused on Levi. He wouldn't stop staring at me. And I felt like I couldn't look away from his grey eyes, like the first night we met, they were haunting me even from a distance.

"None..." I mumbled still staring at him "He's just plotting my death, I guess. If you can call it a relationship..." I added sarcastically, now facing the others. They all laughed and we turned our attention back to the food.

"Cadets" I heard someone saying. It was Levi. When did he arrive? "Today you'll train with the adults. Don't be late" He eyed me once more and then left.

"Yessir" we all answered in chorus.

When our lunch was over, we all headed together to a big room where the training was held. A big soft carpet was right in the center of the room, almost covering the whole pavement.

"Well, make yourself comfortable. You can stay with your t-shirt or tank top, bare chest, whatever it's fine. Then choose your partner for today. Please, try with someone you've never paired, so that you can challenge yourself a little more, alright?" said Nanaba, a veteran member of the corps, as far as I knew.

I was looking around me, thinking about my possible partner. Mikasa would be a great opponent or maybe I could ask Gunther, he seems a strong soldier.

Pondering the situation, I sensed again Levi's gaze from the other side of the room. He was sitting behind a desk with another squad leader. I was so pissed off by his staring, so I said only moving my lips "What are you looking at?".He rolled his eyes and turned his attention back to the others.

I saw some other girls taking their shirts off, staying only with their sports bra or tank tops. I still wasn't that confident to show my body to them, but on second thought that was just a training session, so I had to be as comfortable as possible. When I finished unbuttoning my shirt, I was wearing my sports bra only and I caught Levi out of the corner of my eye, once again staring at me.

So, I turned around completely to face him and I gestured him to close his mouth. He was so pissed off I could see his jaw clenching from a distance.

However, I had caught someone else attention too. Jean coughed behind my back and then said "Hey Daphne, may I ask you if you want to train with me? You seemed pretty skilled last time..."

"Sure" I answered unfazed.

"Oh great, ah ah, perfect, perfect" he started mumbling "So let's get started, ok?"

"Ok" I said. Before he could do much, I knock him out, making him fall to the carpet.

"Ouch, that was... Ok, let me try again. Let's start again from the beginning" he said getting up and positioning like he knew what he was doing. Thus, I waited for him to attack me. I crossed my arms and stared at him.

"Oh, it's my turn. Ok, so..." and then he started to get closer to me, throwing a punch in the air. I promptly caught it, twisted his arm and made him fall to the ground. Again.

He hit the ground pretty bad, so I decided to help him out. I offered him a hand and he grabbed it straight away. Once up, he didn't want to leave my hand and he started whispering "Wow, Daphne, we need to set up a couple of sessions together. You have to teach me those moves..."

"You just need to talk less and practice more, Jean, but not with me" I whispered back.

At that exact moment, that little gag was interrupted by the one and only Levi, who was now wearing only his white tank top.

"If you want to practice, at least choose a decent opponent" he said looking at me, then he turned facing Jean "Cadet, go wash your face. Once you are back, find someone at your level. Leave her to me". Jean only nodded and run off.

"Bring it on, captain" I said, bowing. We positioned ourselves, as everybody turned around to watch us.

As I slightly moved my feet, he promptly moved towards me. I started to throw some punches but he caught them all. I was able to parry his kicks and punches too, but he was definitely stronger than me. I turned around to avoid another punch, leaving him space to attack me from behind. He locked my neck with his right arm as I tried to grab it with all my strength.

Even though I was almost suffocating, I managed to say "Us like this... It brings me back to some lovely memories captain, don't you agree?"

He groaned. I soon got out of his grip, escaping from the free side of my neck, whipping a leg back just to distract him, but he promptly grabbed it, making me lose my balance. While I was trying to not fall, I grabbed his top to steady myself, instead I just dragged him with me down to the floor. Here we were again, one on the other in the most awkward position ever, while the other scouts were watching us.

Levi seemed caught completely off guard by what happened and he just stared at me with his mouth open, breathing heavily. I didn't overthink it too much and I rapidly threw him away, switching our positions. Now that I was on top of him, I could have punched him better, but he promptly grabbed my hand again, pushing me aside and switching our position again.

"This is your punishment for lying to me this morning" he whispered, leaning closer to my ear. I was still struggling to escape from his grip.

"Captain, what are you talking about? I would never lie to you, sir" I said sarcastically, managing to push him again onto the floor.

We continued rolling all over the carpet trying to knock out the other one, until a voice interrupted that little show of ours.

"Oh, c'mon you two, get a room! There are minors here too!" said Hange laughing "Levi, spare that poor girl. I need her for my experiment tonight. Are you down for it, Daphne?"

"Y-yeah, sure" I answered. Levi was still on top of me, blocking both of my hands with one of his, over my head. So, I coughed and then said "If you could kindly take off of me, sir..."

He eyed me fiercely, then stood up and went back to his desk. Everyone also got back to their business as I followed Hange out of the room.

"So tonight, after dinner, come to the courtyard of the castle. I can't wait to introduce you to my two little children: Sawney and Bean" she said.

"Two little children?" I started asking her, with a puzzled expression painted on my face.

"Yeah, the two little titans we captured last time! Don't worry, we'll have so much fun together! See you there!" and so she left.

Still confused, I felt a couple of pats on my back "You did pretty well against the captain! You know they call him humanity's strongest soldier?" said Sasha enthusiastically.

Soon after, all the other soldiers joined us, as we walked to the dorm's hallway. I was about to turn left to my room when Petra approached me: "You stood up to Levi".

"Barely, the captain is very... strong" I replied.

"Yeah, Levi is the best" she said, underlining again the captain's name "I'm totally in awe whenever I see him fighting".

"Indeed, he is the best. I have a lot to learn from him" I said trying to cut that awkward conversation and get back on my way. What the fuck is she trying to hint?

"Well, I'm always in awe when it comes to Levi. A girl is allowed to dream, right? I think you can understand me..."

"No, actually I'm not following you Petra" I replied.

"Oh dear, I see the way you look at him. I used to fantasize about him the same way..."

"I'm not looking at him in any way!" I interrupted her, but she didn't pay that much attention to me.

"But don't dream too much" she continued "he's not interested in anything other than fighting titans. I know what you're trying to do, but it won't work" she then added, while I had already turned my back to her. This bitch...

"I think you totally misunderstood the whole situation, Petra. I don't know what you're hinting at" I said, trying my best to not lose my cool.

"A word to the wise is enough..." she said and then smiled at me. I bit my tongue and smiled back. We stared at each other like we were silently fighting. Soon after she left me there wondering what the fuck she was actually about. Maybe she's just jealous. However, I hate it when people jump to conclusions. I hate it with my whole soul.

I sighed and got back to my room. Fuck, I need another shower.

Closing my eyes under the comforting flow of hot water I couldn't stop thinking about Petra's words. And immediately his face appeared on the back of my eyelids. Levi, right on top of me, sweating and panting just a couple of inches from me. His bare forearms extended over my head to prevent himself from collapsing completely on me. His eyes trembling and going back and forth from my eyes to my mouth.

I groaned so loudly I echoed in the whole bathroom. What am I doing? Am I feeling aroused just by the thought of him? What the fuck is happening to me? I must be going insane.

I rushed out of the shower, trying to keep my mind busy, eluding the image of Levi... of Levi swinging his wet hair over my face, almost brushing my forehead. Stop. I said stop. Stop thinking about him.

I practically shoved my dinner down my throat, avoiding almost everyone in the cafeteria. I successfully made it and then headed to where Hange was waiting for me.

Once arrived I realized what I had signed for. Hange had mounted two big tents under which her "two children" were catching some sleep. Or at least were trying to.

"Daphne, welcome!" she whispered waving at me.

I waved back at her, getting closer suspiciously.

"Oh, don't be afraid. Tonight, we're going to have some fun!" She smiled widely, but I still looked quite concerned. "So, as I've already announced you, under here we have Sawney and Bean. We need to monitor their resistance in the dark, are you following me?"

"Sure" I answered straight away.

"Excellent. The first has just fallen asleep, so we need to keep up only with this one and see how he behaves"

"Sounds like a plan" I smiled at her.

"That's the spirit! Anyway, this is Lauda, one of the members of my squad and, today, my assistant" Lauda shyly shook my hand and bowed her head.

"I'm Daphne, nice to meet you Lauda" I said.

Then we entered the tent where the titan was held. It was rather annoyed by our arrival.

"Calm down, big boy, a long night awaits us" said Hange sarcastically.

"So, how long do you think it will take?" I asked her.

"The first one collapsed not long after the sunlight faded, only a couple of minutes before you came. But with this one I can't tell. However..."

"Good evening" I could recognize this voice among millions. Levi, I thought.

I didn't even dare to look at him.

"Oh Levi, I'm glad you joined us, but I don't recollect inviting you" said Hange.

"You didn't. I wanted to see what kind of freakshow you are up to" replied Levi, with his usual unfazed tone. Yeah sure, that's the reason why you came. Sure. You're not here to keep an eye on me.

He sat down on a sort of pillow next to Lauda, who was right at my left, but slightly rotated in my direction.

"Cadets" he said, greeting us. "Captain Levi" Lauda replied immediately.

On the other hand, I felt like my words were trapped in my throat. Still not looking at him, I whispered "C-captain".

It's really going to be a long night.

[winchester90210]

The BH 90210 Rewrite. 1x20: Spring Training.

Rewrite Masterlist

Read the previous chapter here!

Chapter Summary: Alongside Brandon, you take a dive into the world of little league. 

Word count: 2,000

Warnings: Swearing, brief mention of violence. Also... I know nothing about baseball.

A/N: Hi everyone! Hope you enjoy this week’s episode! Took an extra week off to focus on my mental health and am feeling much better with everything now. I hope you guys are as excited as the next chapter as I am! It’s almost time for the spring dance :)

My work is to not be reposted/republished, and/or edited without my expressed written consent. (Reblogging is great and encouraged!!)

Feedback is very appreciated and encouraged!! :)

-

"With my dad laid up, we need all the help we can get. We’re practicing today if either of you want to join in on the festivities," Brandon persuades the two of you as you round the corner of the Peach Pit to sit at your usual booth. The familiar scent of pie crust and burgers fills the air, instantly putting your soul at ease. 

"Thanks… but no thanks, slim," Dylan rejects him, sliding into the seat opposite of you while Brandon follows suit. 

"Dylan, I thought you were a total baseball freak!" You tell him.

"I am, but listening to these parents berate their kids from the sidelines all day long," he shakes his head, cringing, "Brings back a whole slew of bad memories."

"But it shouldn't be about the parents!" Brandon protests, "It should be about being on a team, learning fundamentals, having a good time!" 

"That's very noble, Brandon. But when I was playing? It was about winning at any cost necessary.” Dylan argues. Brandon sighs in defeat, looking to you.

"What about you, Y/N/N?" 

"Not a chance,” you laugh. 

"What? Why not?" 

"Brandon… me and 20 kids, in an extremely competitive state? Did you learn nothing from the summer of '85?" You jest. Brandon chuckles at your extreme rejection, sliding a laminated menu your way. 

"Wait… what happened in '85?" Dylan's eyes flicker cluelessly between the two of you, awaiting an explanation.

"Look, it was no big deal. Things got a little heated during one of Eric's little league games," you shrug dismissively, flipping through the Peach Pit's menu as if you didn't get the same thing every time. 

"She beat up a nine-year-old,” Brandon quips.

“I didn’t beat up a—“ you pause, taking in a breath. “To put it simply I… put a kid back in his rightful place. He was picking on my brother, nothing happened that he didn't deserve." 

“What’d you do, tackle him out on the field?” Dylan lifts his eyebrows, amused smile on his face.

“No, of course not!” You duck your head back into your menu, mumbling, “I went out there and hit him in the groin with his bat.” 

-

The kids run out into the field, taking their positions with their needed equipment in hand. You lean back onto the warm metal fence, slipping a pair of sunglasses over your eyes to get a better look at Nat’s team. Without the glaring sun in your eyes.

“This is pathetic!” A young boy, adorned in a bright yellow Dukes uniform comes hurdling out from behind the fence to join Brandon and Steve. “They’re not even wearing uniforms!” 

“So what?” Brandon shrugs, voice hardened, “It’s a practice game.” Steve leans into Brandon to whisper something to him, but since he lacks the levels of common decency that most people acquire by the age of five, he talks loud enough for the whole team to hear. 

“They don’t look so good, Brandon.” 

“It’s okay. They came to play, that’s the important thing.” Man… sometimes Brandon felt too good to be true. You’re convinced there has to be a catch at this point. Gorgeous, smart, great with kids. What’s next? He opens up an animal sanctuary for underprivileged strays? Buys a soup kitchen? “Listen up, you guys. The way you treat your competition is a direct comment on how you play the game. Good sportsmanship counts big time with me and my old man…” as he continues to ramble on, your thoughts begin to shift elsewhere. Like how good he looks. It’s purely criminal for anyone to look so hot in yellow. It’s an inherently unattractive color. Yet, there he is—coaching children in the blazing heat, instilling them with good sportsmanship, and all you want to do is to get him to yourself. That bastard. You shake it off, chalking it up to teenage hormones, and try to focus on the game.

“Hey doofus! You really eat toads!” The same kid whining about uniforms earlier is now directing all of his pent up privilege and ten-year-old angst towards the poor, sweet, small child from Nat's team, the Pitts, further solidifying your desire to never procreate. 

“You’ll throw it better next time, Manny!” Nat encourages the little boy wholeheartedly, clapping for him as loudly as he can. 

“Hey Corey! Throw it to the doofus, he’s a real toad!” Does this kid only know two insults? The smaller brunette, the less athletically gifted child hangs his head, kicking sand around the base plate in frustration. Brandon takes note of it, immediately bounding out into the middle of the game.

“Time out! Crawford, get in the game for Noah!” His voice is stern, and as he approaches the boy he’s in total coach mode. It’s kinda hot... Well, it’s not your fault baseball’s boring. Gotta keep yourself entertained somehow.

Steve stops Randy Crawford from going out from the fence with the back of his hand, and going after Brandon himself, sand slipping from under his shoes. You can’t hear what they're saying but you know it’s not the happiest conversation. Knowing them, you know exactly how this is playing out. You don’t even need to hear them. You can see Steve furrow his brows from the sidelines, and Brandon’s gesticulating with his hands wildly as they talk but can’t make out any words that are flying from their mouths. Brandon, the moral center of Los Angeles wants Noah out for being a little jerk. Steve, being Steve, would probably rather keep the better player in than save the self esteem of a little boy before it’s too late and it no longer exists. It’s not long until Brandon pats Steve hard on the shoulder, storming off the field in a blur of sand and sweat.

Well, that’s your cue to leave, isn't it? You go to follow Brandon out, but Steve stops you short. 

“That boyfriend of yours is a total Boy Scout,” he spits. 

“Well, someone’s gotta be," You scoff, eyes rolling, ”They’re just kids, Steve! This isn’t Major League Baseball. There’s no trophy, there’s no prize. There’s absolutely nothing at stake here. What they need to be doing is having fun, and while that snot-nosed little jerk is out there on the field, they’re all gonna be miserable.” 

-

You flop down onto Dylan's couch, feet up on the armrest as he grabs a soda from the fridge and parks himself on the ottoman beside you. You exhale, eyes fluttering shut for a moment.

"Rough day out with the little leaguers?" 

"Rough day out with Steve," you snort. “I’m so used to being around Brandon I forget that people like Steve Sanders even exist.” 

“Come on, Steve isn't that bad."

"Dylan, you're talking about the guy that got carjacked by a girl he was trying to hook up with, and still bailed her out of jail--despite the fact she robbed him justminutes before--in the hopes of getting laid, only for her to steal his wallet." Dylan's face screws in a mix of amusement and total disbelief.

"Okay, so he's that bad," Dylan laughs. "Sorry to break it to you, Y/N/N, but not everyone is a part of the illustrious Walsh family."

"Not everyone can be," you tease. He gently tosses you a throw pillow from the chair across the room, and you use it to prop up your head. "It’s a tragedy.”

-

“See, what did I tell you? Isn’t he sweet? Isn’t he great?” Brenda watches as you comb through the stray dog’s long gray fur. He really is cute… wet black nose, shaggy gray hair, big puppy dog eyes. But you can’t keep him. “I think he likes you!” 

“Bren, as much as I’d love to take this puppy home, my parents would kill me!" 

“Just take him for a trial run, and if you like him, keep him!”

“Bren—“ 

“Please?” 

“Bren—“

“Come on!” She pleads.

“Fine! Okay, okay. I’ll see if we can take him in tomorrow night,” you concede, giving the dog one last pat on the head. Brenda squeals happily, a grin on her face as she wraps her arms around you. 

-

“He’s great! You’ll love him!” 

"Fine. See you later... Wally."

The four of you watch silently, perched up at the counter of the Peach Pit as Nat's baseball team chows down on slices of pepperoni pizza. We've got Nat to your far left, wondering how the hell they're going to survive against the team from Beverly Hills, then we've got Dylan to your left debating on whether to finally help Nat and shack up with the struggling team, Brandon to your right who hasn't lifted his hand from your upper thigh this whole time which is seriously distracting, and you, wondering how such little boys could devour so much pizza in so little time. 

"You know the improvement from one week to the next is remarkable." You mumble.

"Oh yeah… the kids are showing a lot of promise." Brandon nods absentmindedly, bringing his cup to his lips. 

"But…" Dylan begins, "you still need a pitcher that can put the ball over the plate." 

"Yeah," Nat sighs, "but win or lose, the most important thing is how good the kids feel about themselves." He's trying to convince you, but the more he talks the more you know he's trying to convince himself. 

"Absolutely." You agree. 

"Totally." Brandon nods. 

"Yeah, I mean, in the long run that's all that counts," Dylan shrugs, his voice coated with scepticism.

"Absolutely." Brandon concurs.

"Totally…” You say. “Y’know, I was talking to Andrea about this and she knows a pretty great player from the valley."

They all turn their heads, slowly, with Nat glancing from you to the phone. You roll your eyes at the boys, making your way over to the payphone. The group watches with bated breath behind you as you slip in the quarters and dial her number, waiting for her to pick up. 

"Hello?"

"Andrea, hi! Listen, uh, do you remember the other day? You told me you knew some kid in the valley who was a major blue-chip little leaguer?"

"Oh, yeah! Avery?"

"Yeah… Avery." You twist your head back, giving them a smile and a thumbs up. 

-

"What's Dylan doing? Bringing in a ringer?" Steve scoffs, twisting the metal bat in his hand as he cleans it. You exchange knowing smirks with Brandon as Dylan helps Avery get ready on the sidelines. She takes off her ball cap, releasing the foot of long brunette pony-tailed hair. Gasps are heard from center field, seemingly originating from Noah. Shocker.

"Oh my god! Dude, it's a girl!" He laughs out, adjusting his cap against the wind.

"Poor Dylan, he's really scraping the bottom of the barrel, huh?" Oh, if only you and that misogynistic head of yours knew, Steve-O. And surprise, surprise—Every pitch she's involved in ends up in a home run for the Pitts.

And little by little, much to your joy, Steve is getting progressively more aggravated— tapping feet, flaring nostrils, bugged-out eyes. You’re beginning to like baseball.

Eventually you make your way over to Brenda, off by the sidelines. You watch as they send Davey from the Dukes out, and Manny, the small, athletically challenged boy from the Pitts, isn’t far behind. Brandon perks up, calling a timeout to give what you can only assume is another one of his infamous Brandon talks to his team. After a moment the team breaks up, moving into their correct positions and as Manny chokes up on his bat ready to pitch. You cringe, hiding your face in your hand.

 But it's nothing short of a miracle as Davey throws the ball. It makes contact with Manny's bat, soaring across the field as he jets off across the bases. The catcher from the Dukes runs for the ball, tripping over his own foot and skidding across the grass. The whole team erupts into ecstatic cheers, rushing out and lifting Manny onto their shoulders. You know that Davey blew the pitch for him, you’ve seen him pitch a hundred times. But seeing the joy on that little boy's face, you knew that it didn't matter. 

"Poor kid," Brenda sighs, looking out to the opposite direction to Randy Crawford, the catcher that landed face-first into the grass. "I mean, he really gave it his best-- Wally!" 

"Wally? Bren, what're you-- oh my god! That is Wally!" Off in the distance, you can see the gray ball of hair hurdling towards the baseball diamond.

"That's not Wally! That's Rupert! It's my dog, he's back!" Randy gasps, watching in amazement as his shaggy mutt runs across the crowds and into his open arms. 

"Hey uh," Brandon comes to greet you, but is looking out into the field as well, "isn't that supposed to be your dog, Y/N/N?" 

"No, Brandon," Brenda shakes her head, light smile lacing her lips. "I guess that's Randy's dog…" You sigh, but seeing the little boy giggle with glee as Wally-- er, Rupert, laps at his cheek, there's no troubling emotions to be found. 

"I'm sorry, Y/N/N," Brandon laces his fingers with yours, grabbing your attention with a soft kiss to your temple. 

"I'm not," you assure him. You smile, the sight of the boy reuniting with his long lost dog something straight out of a movie scene. One last look and you turn away from the boy, eyes meeting your boyfriend’s. “Hey, Brandon... have a date for that dance yet?”

-

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Taglist: @be-patient-be-good​ @mpmarypoppins​ @bevelyhills90210​ @blueoz​ @princess-ghost-alien​ @hueycat2004​ @l4life​ @keepcalm-and-beyou​ @isthatabutterfly​ @rosy-pugs​ @thewalshess​

[nothingbutfangirlsmut]

The Trials of Emi

Pairing: A little Minho. A sprinkle of Frypan. Gally x Emi(OC)

Summary: Emi, her twin brother Thomas, and a small group of gladers had been rescued and taken to a safe haven. Or so it seemed. It doesn't take long for Thomas to realize something is wrong. What happens next is a true trial for all of them but Emi's trials began the moment she was ripped away from a dying Gally. Watching someone you love die right before your eyes truly takes a toll.

Finally meeting the right arm could have been the end but betrayal leads to even more chaos and loss. A new mission to rescue those taken from them leads them to a city. The last city. After Emi finally comes to terms with everything that's happened something unfolds that changes everything again. She will have to not only deal with helping her brother take down WCKD and save their friend but also deal with all the new problems in her head and her heart.

Rating: As of right now it’s at most PG13. Some strong language that’s about it but it could change.

(This is the 2nd part/book to my other story "The Maze trials: A Gally Fanfiction". This will cover the events of the scorch trails and the death cure.)

Chapter Nine

Thomas and Minho both kept me talking so I'd stay awake. The ride hadn’t seemed as long as it actually was but when we got to the mountain pass Jorge slowed the truck to a stop. In front of us looked to be a bunch of old abandoned vehicles blocking the road. We all got out of the truck. I stumbled a bit but Minho caught me then kept a hold on me.

"Well, I guess we're on foot," Jorge said.

We started walking slowly up the road. Minho kept his arm tightly around my waist as I tried to keep myself steady. My vision was blurring making my head swim even more than it already was. A few of the guys were checking the cars as we walked past them. We were around the middle of the abandoned cars when shots rang out making us all dive for cover. I fell against a car between Minho and Newt. A minute passed as we all listened for more gunfire.

"Is everyone ok up there?" Thomas shouted.

"We're fine!" Teresa shouted back to him.

"Anyone know where those bloody shots came from?" Newt questioned loudly.

I could feel my breathing waver. It was like my heart was trying to beat faster but my body wasn’t letting it. I saw Thomas peek over the car he was hiding behind then more shots rang out as he dived back down.

"Minho" I whispered feeling myself falling into unconsciousness.

My chest grew heavier making it harder to breathe.

"No, Emi, you gotta hang on. We're almost there." Minho said frantically as he held my face in his hands.

"Emi" Newt said.

"Everybody get set to sprint back to the truck and hold your ears!" Jorge shouted.

"I can't" I panted as I shook my head.

"Drop it" I heard a girl command.

I looked up to see two young girls with a cloth over their faces. They were both holding a gun and pointing it down at the place Thomas and Jorge were hiding.

"Now! I said drop it! On your feet, let's go. Let's go!" The dark-haired girl shouted.

Jorge and Thomas got to their feet with their hands raised.

"Move! Back up!" The dark-haired girl shouted again.

As Thomas and Jorge moved backward towards us the girl pointed her gun at Minho, Newt, and myself.

"You three over here now! Don't be stupid." She ordered.

Newt and Minho both helped me to my feet. Minho took over holding me once I was righted.

"Slowly," the blonde girl said as she pointed her gun at the rest of the group that was joining us.

The dark-haired girl lowered her gun as she looked at us in confusion.

"Aris?" She questioned.

We all turned to look at the small boy. He stepped forward towards the girl.

"Oh my God, Harriet?" He questioned then quickly hugged the girl.

"What the hell are you doing here?" Harriet asked him.

"Sonya," Aris said to the blonde girl then hugged her.

"Aris, you're lucky we didn't shoot you're dumbass." Sonya chuckled.

"What's happening?" Minho asked clearly confused.

"We were in the maze together," Aris said to our group.

Harriet turned then whistled loudly.

"We're clear guys come on out!" She shouted.

Several people with guns started appearing on top of the mountain around us.

"Thom-" I started to say but at that moment my body completely shut off.

All I remember is feeling myself falling then hearing my name being shouted by several different people.

When I finally came to I was laying on a cot in what looked like a tent. I sat up slowly to see Brenda laying on the cot next to me. Jorge was sitting in a chair between both our beds.

"Easy Emi" Jorge said.

"What happened?" I asked him.

He shared a look with Brenda who was now sitting up as well.

"You passed out on the mountain pass. Minho caught you then carried you with us all the way here to the Right Arm camp." Jorge explained.

"The Right Arm? We found them?" I asked him.

Jorge and Brenda both nodded.

"What happened to you?" I asked Brenda.

"I was bitten when Thomas and I were separated from the rest of you. The doctor here gave me some of Thomas' blood. She said it would slow the infection." Brenda explained.

"Shit" I breathed.

"Mary, the doctor, she stitched you up properly then gave you a shot of something. She said it would help you get back on your feet from the blood loss." Jorge told me.

I looked down for the first time noticing I was only in a tank top. My shoulder had been wrapped in a clean white bandage.

"There's some warmer clothes for you right there." Jorge pointed to the chair on the other side of my cot.

I slowly got to my feet. I pulled on the sweater and the coat they had left for me. I instantly felt warmer. Jorge dismissed himself to step outside. I sat back on the edge of my cot.

"Are you feeling alright?" I asked Brenda.

"I feel better than I did." She shrugged.

Jorge ran back inside quickly. The look on his face could only be explained as one of pure panic.

"Get up we need to go. Now!" He shouted.

Brenda and I scrambled to our feet then quickly followed Jorge out of the tent. The people in the camp were shouting as two helicopters approached in the distance. Jorge pulled both me and Brenda behind him as he ran threw the camp. He grabbed two guns. He threw one over his shoulder then tossed the other to Brenda. I found one as we ducked for cover. Only a second after we covered ourselves the helicopters were overhead and dropping explosives. They fell randomly exploding the moment they hit the ground. One of them fell right next to the tent the three of us had just been in. Thomas suddenly ran past us as he caught sight of the now burning tent.

"Emi! Brenda!" He shouted frantically.

Brenda jumped out then ran to him. She grabbed his arm turning him to face her.

"You dumbass" she shouted at him then pulled him behind her.

They ran back to Jorge and I. Thomas fell beside me instantly hugging me tightly to him.

"Are you trying to get yourself killed?" Brenda asked him.

"We have to go, now, while we still have the chance," Jorge said quickly.

"I have to find the others," Thomas stated.

"No! No!" Jorge shouted as he grabbed Thomas to keep him from moving.

"Look, look, you can't help them," Jorge said pointing his finger.

Thomas and I followed his finger to see Minho, Fry, Newt, Harriet, and an older man on and around a truck in the midst of firing guns. As we watched several WCKD guards attacked them. One guard threw something then everyone on and around the truck was electrocuted.

"No!" I shouted trying to get to my feet.

Thomas pulled me back down. He wrapped his arms around me keeping me close to him.

"I'm sorry. There's nothing you can do for them. If we don't move now we won't be much better off." Jorge told us.

"You guys have to go right now and take Emi with you. Keep her safe." Thomas said pushing me towards Brenda.

"What?" Brenda and I asked in unison.

"I'm not leaving you Tommy," I told him sharply as I jerked out of Brenda's hold.

"They're not looking for you. You'll be safe but you have to go now." Thomas said as he looked between the three of us.

"Thomas" Brenda whispered.

"I can't leave without them," Thomas said.

"Neither can I!" I shouted at him.

"Good luck you two. Bren, we have to go come on. Come on." Jorge said as he pulled Brenda with him.

Thomas narrowed his eyes at me.

"You can scold me all you want but you're my brother and those guys are my family. You're all I have. I'm not going anywhere." I told him sternly.

He sighed as he looked down. A smile spread across his face making me look down too. Jorge left his backpack. As the guards rounded everyone up and sat them in rows on their knees Thomas dug threw the bag until he found what he was looking for. He pulled out two small items. I took the slightly bigger one from him to look at.

"Careful Emi that's a bomb." He told me quietly.

He tried to take it from me but I pulled it away from him.

"Are you gonna blow them up?" I asked him.

"All of us if I have to." He said sternly.

I looked at him in shock for a moment before understanding what he meant. I was with him no matter what his plan was.

"I'll keep the bomb. You keep the detonator." I said as I stuffed the thing in my coat.

Thomas started to retort but Janson's loud voice grabbed both of our attentions.

"Where's Thomas and his sister?" Janson questioned loudly.

Thomas stood and I followed him without question.

"Right here" Thomas shouted as he raised his hands.

I did the same as him. We were both grabbed then shoved forward to stand in front of Janson.

"Thomas" Janson said with a smile.

Janson punched Thomas roughly in the stomach making him double over.

"You bastard!" I shouted as I launched myself at him.

A guard was quick to grab me then throw me to the ground. Janson chuckled.

"Get them in line." He said then turned to whisper to another man.

We were both shoved onto our knees in line with the others. Thomas was next to Minho and I was next to Thomas.

"Why didn't you run?" Minho asked quietly.

"I'm tired of running," Thomas said simply.

A minute later a large aircraft was landing in the middle of the camp. Out of that aircraft came four more guards and Ava Paige. Ava and Janson had a quiet conversation before Janson turned to the guards.

"Let's go! Get them on!" Janson ordered.

The guards instantly started grabbing kids to take onto the aircraft.

—

[loverontheleft]

The Honeymoon One

Or actually - this’ll be several “ones.” I’m at 10k words currently and not nearly done, so I’m going to post it a thousand words at a time, probably 1k words a day. I might even queue it up!

AU. Brendon x reader.

Warnings: So...we’ve (@beautiful-tragic-fallout) created a points system for smut. Also! The new decade brought us new scale items. Enjoy. 😘

0.25 for handjob

0.25 for fingering

0.25 for masturbation

0.25-0.5 for (mild) cum-play

0.5 for blowing him

0.5 for going down on her

0.6 for cockwarming

0.75-1.0 for sex, vanilla

1.5-2.0 for sex, advanced positions

3.0 for bondage, spanking, other kinks, or public sex.

This piece has a smut score of WOW ACTUALLY ZERO, and other warnings include language.

Word count: 1k

-||-

“You know that feeling when you’re walking down the stairs and you miss a step? And your foot sort of free-falls through the air and you know it’s gonna land somewhere, but you don’t know where? And there’s that sick feeling of dread and fear and complete panic because you could literally plunge down the entire flight and not be able to stop it?” Brendon looks at you over the edge of his wine glass. His eyes are bright and laser-focused on you. It’s the first he’s spoken all night, and this is the first weekly dinner he hasn’t canceled or just flaked on in three months. You honestly weren’t expecting him to show tonight, so you’re even more surprised when he breaks the silence.

“Yes,” is all you say. You leave the moment hanging between you, encouraging him to keep talking. He sighs and settles back in the formal dining room table chair. You lean forward and look at him expectantly. He meets your gaze for a moment but his eyes start darting between yours and the tablecloth.

Finally, he takes a deep breath and drains his glass in one swallow. “That’s what it felt like when she told me it was over.” It’s a heavy moment. Your face falls and you reach for his hand. He allows you to touch him for one moment before he shrinks away and sighs. “I’m trying to be better, Y/n. I really am.”

“Bren,” you whisper. “You don’t have to - no one is rushing you to be back to your old self. Really. Healing - you can take as long as you need. You were together for a long time. You were enga-“ you cut yourself off before you can get the whole word out.

“But it’s been three months,” he groans, dropping his head into his hands. “I should be better.” The last part is muffled as he presses his face firmly against his palms. “And the trip is coming up.” You wince. You’d forgotten. No, you say silently. You hadn’t really forgotten of course; you knew it was coming up. You just hadn't realized how soon it was. “I leave in two weeks.”

“Wait - you’re still going?!” You don’t mean to sound so shrill, but you can’t help it.

“So much of it was non-refundable. It’d be a waste of money to not go.” He’s silently pleading with you to understand.

“Yeah, but-“ you’re aghast. Waste of money or not, surely he sees how harmful this could be to any amount of progress he’s made in the time since she left him for her research partner.

He stares at you desperately. He’s tapping his fingers against the wood of the table and not blinking. He’s chewing his lower lip and his eyes dart back and forth frantically. His chest is heaving with shallow breaths. You’re not sure what’s going through his mind when he blurts out suddenly - “come with me.”

You blink once. Twice. “Sorry, what?”

“Come with me,” Brendon repeats. “I have two tickets. And there’s a second person for all of the stuff I booked.”

You’re avoiding eye contact and you pinch the bridge of your nose, trying to process this. “Bren, it’s probably all sexy, romantic stuff,” you finally protest, your mind and heart racing at the possibilities. “You don’t want me-“

“I can’t do it alone,” Brendon says softly. “I can’t bear it alone. You’re my best friend, Y/n. I can’t do it alone. Please.” He allows his words to hang in the air for a long moment. “Please,” he says again. His eyes are wide and innocent and you can feel yourself caving. “Y/n, please. You need a vacation. You work too damn hard and are underfuckingappreciated. You need a break. Let me give you a break.” He’s talking faster now. “It’s all already paid for; it won’t cost you anything. You’d be doing me a favor, really. Please. Take a vacation with me.” The air between you is sizzling with his intensity and you knock back the rest of your wine.

“I don’t even know that I can get the time off,” you warn him and he crows in triumph.

“You have easily eighty vacation days accumulated since you started there.” Brendon grins at you knowingly. “You’ve never taken a sick day. You don’t take vacation. That day trip to the beach does not count,” he cuts you off swiftly, seeing you about to protest. “Because you got a client’s deposition instead of getting lunch with me.”

“In my defense,” you say, “you did pick Hard Rock Cafe for lunch. I was smart to skip it.”

He grins. “You admit that you skipped lunch then?” When you nod, he turns to an imaginary judge sitting beside him. “Your honor, I move to acquit Ms. Y/l/n from work in two weeks for two weeks. Clearly she has met the qualifications for insanity and needs rehabilitation time in the form of alcoholic drinks and delicious food and total relaxation with her best friend in his time of need.” He nods solemnly and then turns to you. “How do you plead?” His eyes are wide and needy and you melt a little. He’s your best friend. He’s your best friend and he needs you. He’s your best friend and he wants- no - needs you and you do need a vacation.

“Guilty by reason of insanity,” you say with a laugh, giving in to his playacting and ruffling his hair affectionately. He arches into your touch, pressing his head into your fingers for more, and you silently will yourself to stay in control of your own feelings. “Commit me to rehab, your honor.”

“The court reporter records the sentence and it shall be done,” Brendon announces as he pulls back from your hair-tousling, raising his empty wine glass in a toast.

“Just-“ you have one last point to raise and his eyebrows go up. “You know I am not a good flyer.” You give him your biggest, most pathetic gaze and he smiles reassuringly before telling you that you can hold his hand the whole time if you’ll feel better. You tap your glass against his, praying that he doesn’t see what’s flickering on the screen of your mind.

[quasieli]

A Second Chance - Chapter Five

[Chapter Four] [AO3 Link]

“I do not know what you are expecting of this tour, Miss, but, if I may be frank, I do not have much time for comradery.” 

The young boy and woman stood outside of the dormitory door, a silent standoff bubbling beneath the surface. Both knew there was more going on here than what was being let on, but neither knew the other’s side of this story. Vex wasn’t going to back down and let this boy, Bren, she now knew, get rid of her so easily. 

“We do not wish to waste your time here,” she began, folding her arms and standing her ground, “I understand you have a big exam to study for, but what’s the harm in me wanting to get to know a bright, young scholar like yourself?”

“There is no harm, I suppose,” Bren spoke with an undertone of suspicion, “but I am just curious as to why.”

As Vex opened her mouth to speak, the rest of her party joined the two, both looking curious, and a touch annoyed from having to chase the other two down. 

“Are we interrupting something here?” Percy cocked an eyebrow as he took in his wife’s body language, “We can step away if you two need a moment.” 

“Don’t be silly, darling,” Vex relaxed as she hopped over to Percy, laying a quick kiss on his cheek, hanging onto him as she looked towards the boy, “Young Bren and I were just having a nice conversation.”  

Bren squirmed at the intonation of his name, as if it was now somehow dirty. He could not understand why this woman was making him feel so uncomfortable, something about her was getting under his skin. He felt insecure. He had not felt that way in a long time. 

She had been kind to him yesterday, and he did not want to take the kindness for granted, but he felt there might be some sort of ulterior motive behind the seemingly altruistic action. He knew he had to keep his guard up. He knew he had to be an impenetrable wall. He could do that. But then why was it so hard for him to look up at her? 

There was the obvious reason, the reason that made the Archmage call him “weak” and say that he was just coming up with excuses. The same excuse which gave him an unquenchable thirst for arcane knowledge and the nearly airtight memory to recite it back with ease. It was not a weakness then, no, it was just how his brain worked. But no, it was not that, this was something more. 

Taking a deep breath, Bren looked up at the three guests, fighting against his internal urge to look away. He kept his gaze steely, but still, something else was there to give away his nerves. Just as the de Rolos had seen him do the day before, he began to nervously tug at his shirt sleeve. However, this time, Vex got a glance at something more.

“Bren,” Vex said as her face fell into a look of worry, reaching down towards the boy, “what’s that under your sleeve?” 

Vex crept toward the boy slowly, as if not to spook him like an injured deer. Peeking out from the long, crimson sleeve was the beginning of a white wrap, a bandage, Vex supposed. However, she could not get a good enough look before Bren pulled the arm away, tucking it behind himself a little to defensively for Vex’s liking. And then there was that look again, there and then gone in an instant. Vex hated seeing that look. 

“Did someone hurt you?” she asked, her tone soft and face riddled with concern.

“Nein, ach, no no,” Bren stuttered, unsure of why he faltered when he had his answer to this question locked in his head, “Just... a mishap during some training. It is still tender, is all.”   

Vex wanted nothing more than to push forward, to get the truth behind the obvious lie, but she understood that perhaps he was not ready to talk about that yet. She didn’t want to push too hard and risk losing him completely. 

Feeling trepidatious, Vex turned to Percy and Allura, each wearing their own look of uncertainty and worry. Percy’s look then shifted to pensive, Vex could see the bubbling of an idea behind his eyes. The pondering look still on his face, Percy took a bold step forward, approaching the boy.

“You are Zemnian, yes?”

A foreign tongue spilled out from between Percy’s lips, a language Vex had never heard him speak before. It was almost comical how both Vex and Bren cocked a quizzical eyebrow at the man at nearly the exact same time, both curious as to Percy’s sudden dialectical skill. 

“Yes, I am,” Bren responded slowly in the same language, “Is there some sort of issue with that?”

Percy relaxed into a self-satisfied grin, his idea, perhaps, proving worthwhile, “Not at all. I was just curious. My family, a few generations back, is, as well, and came from a place not too far from here. I learned the language as a child, but it has been years since I have practiced.”

“Interesting... Well, your accent could use a little work, but your grammar is spot on,” Bren’s face began to brighten, his cheeks filling with the warmth of his familiar native tongue. 

“That is good to know,” Percy respond, shooting a quick glance over at a still perplexed Vex. “By the state of your accent, I am partial to guess this comes to you a little more naturally than Common. Would you prefer this? I can translate for our friends.”

Bren shook his head, “No, that is not necessary, but it is kind of you to offer. I do miss speaking this beautiful language, but Common is the language of this school,” he paused briefly, “So Common it shall be.”

Percy nodded, flashing a friendly smile at the boy, “Very well, but the offer still stands.”

Bren’s own smile widened slightly at the other man, a hint of nervousness around the edges of it. “Now, if you all do not mind, I am going to retrieve something from my room and then we can continue on,” Bren disappeared behind his door in a flash, but not before sneaking another curious glance Percy’s way.

“What was all that?” Vex asked as she approached her husband.

“Finding common ground,” Percy boasted, “I figured it was worth a shot.” 

“You got him to smile, that’s definitely worth something,” Vex herself smiled, glad to have gotten even just a glimpse of Bren in a more relaxed and authentic state, “That was a really good move, he seemed really happy to be speaking… what language was that?”

“Zemnian,” Percy supplied, “it’s a predominant language spoken in Blumenthal, I thought it was worth a shot to see if he spoke it. Although, he does seem hesitant about speaking it here.”

“Why do you think that would be?” This time it was Allura who spoke up, seemingly having to remind the pair that she was also there.

“As far as I know, Zemnian is not considered a ‘proper’ language, for lack of a better term,” Percy replied with a grumble, “it’s considered a peasant’s language, not something that would be spoken in a place like this.”

“Well, now that we know he is at the top of his class, I think it is safe to assume that he is here on a scholarship,” Vex added, “So, we are dealing with a very smart young man who probably did not grow up with great means and is probably in a great deal of trouble. How shall we proceed?” 

///

He could breathe now, behind closed doors and away from those people. It was strange how the solitude that had brought him anxiety as of late was now providing him with solace. Many restless nights had been spent in this room, pondering the coming days. Bren had reassured himself time and time again that he was doing the right thing; this was for the good of the Empire.

The Archmage had drilled tomorrow night’s plans into his mind over and over again, it was really all very simple, and yet… No, he could not have these doubts. 

Bren did not consider himself a patriot, he loved the Empire and what it stood for, but he believed patriotism was reserved for blind zealots. He knew better. He had been lucky to have the privilege of getting to know some of the inner machinations of his wonderful homeland, and the more he knew, the more he yearned to protect it. All of his training was going towards protecting it. Years of work, finally beginning to pay off in these last few months. He was starting to become the man he always wished to be.

Then why was the sight of a simple necklace breaking him so?

The piece of jewelry had caught his eye the day before, he had not thought much of it, or so he thought. It was not until the half-elven woman interrupted him that he realized just how transfixed he was on the pendant, the bright stone at its center particularly catching his eye. It was a beautiful piece, he had seen others like it at the many harvest festivals of his youth, but this was the first time he may have been able to actually afford it. 

But why would he buy it knowing the plans for the coming days? 

Perhaps it was as an apology, to both himself and his mother, for what he was about to do. But it had to be done. He could not let the safety of the Empire be compromised, no one was exempt from punishment for this crime. Not even his parents. 

He looked once more at the necklace, laying in a small, open box on his desk, a handwritten note beside it. His thumb brushed across the square of paper, written in his fine handwriting were the words “Abba und Eema, ich liebe dich. Liebe, dein schatzi.” 

He sighed heavily, he had to do what was right. Taking the necklace out of its box, Bren placed the pendant in his tunic pocket, having it in his hand made him feel strangely safe. Perhaps that would get him through this day with these peculiar visitors before he would return to his childhood home the following morning for his final test. 

It would have to work. He had to be strong.

[dracoqueen22]

[CR] A Dash of Insight

Title: A Dash of Insight Universe: Critical Role, Campaign Two, Close to Home series, Somewhere Around Episode 62 Characters: Caleb Widogast/Caduceus Clay Rating: K+ Description: In which an exchange of favors leads Caleb to come to a sudden epiphany about Caduceus Clay. For @claylebweek

Xhorhas was not home. It could not be home. Then again, Caleb Widogast did not have a home, did he? Because Caleb Widogast did not, technically, exist. Bren Ermendrud thought of the Zemni Fields as home, but Bren no longer existed either, so why not could Caleb Widogast make Xhorhas his home?

He was a human in a foreign land, a land which did not like humans. Could he make this his home? No, no. The Empire, it was still home. Rotten to the core as it was, he could fix that. He knew he could. He just needed more. Time. Knowledge. Opportunity. All of it. For now, Xhorhas would do. It would help. There were answers here. Access. The Shadowhand, Essek, he could teach Caleb many things. He could be used. This was good. This was very good. He’d made the right choice. Caleb fully believed that. As he wandered through the room he’d picked for his own, a combination library and research room, he had to believe he’d made the right choice. He hadn’t abandoned Bren or the Empire. He hadn’t abandoned the idea of home. He was still working toward that end. This was a step on the path. This was-- His door opened with a quiet creak. Caleb looked up from the bookshelf just as Caduceus poked his head inside, scanning the interior before finding Caleb with ease. He offered a smile and slipped within, bringing with him the calm he seemed to radiate. “This is a nice room,” he said, looking around, ears twitching as he surveyed with that outstanding and unusual perception of his. “You’ve really made it your own, Mr. Caleb.” “Just like you made the tower yours with that tree, eh?” Caleb replied, drawing all the tendrils of himself inward, until he was Caleb again, because Caleb he knew best. "Xhorhas might not be home, but that doesn't mean we can't make it one, since we might be here a while," Caduceus said with his usual infinite wisdom which somehow seemed to mirror and then echo some of Caleb’s earlier thoughts. That was when Caleb noticed the book, tucked under Caduceus' arm. He didn't immediately recognize the spine as it wasn't the one they read during their lessons. "I suppose you are right," Caleb said. "There's no reason we can't be comfortable while we decide our next move. I think we could all use a little bit of downtime." Caduceus nodded, his gaze lingering on the books Caleb had already collected and the paraphernalia he'd found. With time, he might have a genuine library. It was a nice thought. "You know, I always found that the kinds of things that make a home are the people living in it," Caduceus said, and he offered Caleb a smile, gesturing with the book in his hand. "Sharing meals, you know." Caleb tilted his head. "Uh, ja. That is true. We are a family, and this is our home." Caduceus lifted the book so Caleb could see the cover, and now the title. It was a cookbook, though it seemed to be Nicodranian based. "I thought, since you're so patient to teach me a few things, I might return the favor. Want to help with dinner?" "You are asking me to... cook with you?" Caleb asked, uncertain if he'd heard correctly, but not sure there was any other way to interpret the offer. "If you want. You said you weren't very good at it, and I wasn't very good at reading before you helped me, so it seemed like the thing to offer," Caduceus said, and he tucked the book back under his arm. Caleb blinked. "I mean, if you're busy, that's fine," Caduceus added. "I... sure. I mean, no. No, I'm not busy." He should be busy. Caleb had many more important things to do than spend time in the kitchen, soaking up Caduceus' gentle energy, and learning how to cook. He glanced at his books, at the papers littering his desk and the ink beside it, waiting for him to get to work. He thought about the definition of home and family, and how one could easily change their identities. "What did you have in mind?" Caleb asked. He swept off his overcoat, hung it on the back of his chair, and followed Caduceus out of the room. "Well, Jester gave me this cookbook a while back, and we haven't really been anywhere I could make use of it until now," Caduceus said as they headed toward the kitchen, the distant noise of Yasha and Beau sparring in the training room catching Caleb's brief attention. Nott -- or Veth -- was occupied with Yeza, and Caleb did not fault her that. He had no idea what Fjord and Jester were up to. Shopping, last he checked in, he thought. Jester had taken to the idea of furnishing their new home with utter glee, and had easily coaxed Fjord into being an extra pair of arms and eyes to help her. "Sounds good," Caleb said. The kitchen was warm and bright from numerous torches as though Caduceus wanted desperately to make it feel like the sun shone through the windows. It smelled of herbs and spices, and it radiated welcome and comfort, as if it had already absorbed whatever aura Caduceus emitted, so it could reflect that calm back into the world. Caduceus handed Caleb the book. "Why don't you pick something for us to make?" he suggested as he plucked an apron off the wall -- the very same one he'd used on the Balleater -- and tied it around his waist. Caleb set the cookbook on the counter and paged through it, looking for something of interest. He almost skimmed too quickly, and had to backtrack, when something caught his eye. "What about the spatzle," he suggested as fond memories choked at the back of his throat, and he had to take a moment. "It has a mushroom sauce. Or would that be too difficult?" "Hmm." Caduceus leaned over him, peering at the page. He was warm against Caleb's back, and he smelled like he'd been digging in his rooftop garden. "Oh. We could do this. Sure." Caduceus reached around him and picked up the book, placing it in a nearby stand to make it easier to see. Caleb's back felt a little colder. Which was ridiculous. So he shook himself and focused on rolling his sleeves to his elbows. He should probably wash his hands. He'd been organizing his components earlier, and there was phosphorus under his fingernails. "It's not too much?" Caleb asked. "It's perfect, Mr. Caleb. It'll be warm and filling, easy enough for beginners, and I think everyone will like it." Caduceus smiled at him as he pulled his own hair up into a messy bun at the top of his head. "Good choice." "What should I do then?" Caleb moved to the basin and washed his hands, making sure to scrub under his fingernails like his mother had taught him. Cookware clattered as Caduceus produced pots and cutting boards and utensils from all corners of the kitchen. He'd made himself at home here as much as Caleb had made the research room his. "I like to start with gathering all of the ingredients l need," Caduceus said as he started to arrange the cookware. "I've got the equipment if you want to get the rest." "Sure. I can do that." It was easy and companionable, how they moved around each other. Caleb read the ingredients off the recipe and gathered them with no trouble -- Caduceus had taken the time to label their various containers and barrels. The instructions were clear, but easier to understand as Caduceus explained the importance of mixing items separately, managing the heat of the cooking fire, and letting Caleb do as much of the work himself as possible. It reminded him of home. Of hanging on his mother's apronstrings as they baked together, or sitting on his father's knee as they plucked and cleaned a chicken. He did not view Caduceus as a parent, of course not, but the firbolg gave off such an aura of peace, it was hard not to associate the two things, his past and his present colliding and giving him a fierce ache of nostalgia and longing. "It takes patience," Caduceus rumbled as he instructed Caleb on dropping the dough into the pot of bubbling water, small strip by small strip. "But I don't think you have a problem with that." "I am a very patient man," Caleb said, and scraped another inch of the batter into the bubbling water. His skin tingled when Caduceus squeezed him on the shoulder before going back to stirring the mushroom sauce to go over the noodles, the rich liquid wafting a delicious, familiar odor. Caleb’s heart ached a little more. "You would have liked Corin," Caduceus said as he focused on stirring, everything about him radiating comfort and ease. "They are a thinker, too. Always thinking. It could be hard to get them out of their head sometimes." "Maybe one day we'll meet them." "It is a big world, Mr. Caleb. But if the Wildmother means for us to meet, we will," Caduceus said, and there was enough conviction in his voice to make Caleb a little envious. He had not been lying when he told Yussa he had faith in nothing save their little group. Caleb did not trust in a higher power. He did not trust those of higher station or those who declared themselves leaders of any kind. He'd had that kind of faith burned out of him. But he believed in people. Specifically, these seven people (because Mollymauk was dead, he was not gone, and Caleb refused to discount the mark Mollymauk had left on his life). "Family is... is a good thing," Caleb said quietly. He worked his jaw. "My mother, she could not cook very well, but this... this was a bit of her specialty. I never did learn her secret." "Was?" Caduceus echoed, one ear tilting toward him. Caleb swallowed over a lump in his throat. No, this was too painful. It was enough to let himself pick the recipe. No more, no less. "Ja. She is dead. She and my father." He pulled in a heavy breath and lifted his chin toward the counter. "Will you hand me that? I need to scoop these out." It made for a wonderful change of topic. They went back to managing their meal, Caleb studiously forming the noodle clumps while Caduceus finished off the sauce and ensured each boiled noodle was nice and browned in the skillet. They dished a very small portion off to the side for tasting, and Caleb first took a cautious sniff. It smelled edible, very much like what his mother used to make, and when he gave it a tentative lick, the flavor spilled across his tongue, savory and familiar. The dumplings were perfect; the sauce even better. It wasn't exactly his mother's spatzle, but it was close enough. Caduceus, meanwhile, had simply plopped the entire bite into his mouth. His eyebrows crawled upward as he considered before he burst into a large, pleased grin. "This is delicious," he said. "Your mother would be proud." Caleb's heart flipflopped in his chest. Warmth spread all throughout his body. Oh. Oh, no. "I... thank you, Mr. Clay," Caleb said, and hoped his voice didn't stutter, hoped wiping off his hands hid the subtle tremble in his fingers. His ears burned; his face did, too. And Caduceus was far too perceptive not to notice. Damn him. "It's only because I had such a good teacher," Caleb said, struggling to keep his voice even as the epiphany washed over him. Caduceus chuckled and gently bumped Caleb with a shoulder, though it was more his elbow given their height difference. "I'm returning the favor. I have a good teacher in you, too." "I-I suppose," Caleb said, his mouth abruptly dry, and his heart thudding so fast he felt it pulsing in his ears. "I should go get everyone for dinner, ja?" He backed away, untucking the towel from his shoulder to toss it onto the counter. "I think I can hear Beau's stomach growling from here." "Good idea. I'll go ahead and dish this up," Caduceus said. And Caleb? Caleb fled. No, no, no. This was not good. He paused in the hallway to catch his breath, his face afire, his fingers trembling. Heat throbbed through his body in a steady wave, threatening to overfill him with affection. He closed his eyes and drew in slow, steadying breaths, trying to will away the emotion bubbling up inside him. When had it started? He didn't know. It had come upon him gradually, like the slow creep of ivy over an old, abandoned house. It was pretty and decorative at first, until one realized it was too deeply rooted to remove. It nestled into every crack, every seam, and eventually, it might do untold damage, but for now, it was a pretty thing. A pretty thing Caleb knew better than to cultivate. "You fool," he muttered to himself. "You utter fool." This was no time to be falling for anyone, much less anyone in the Mighty Nein, and even lesser, someone as good as Caduceus Clay.

***

Comments and reblogs and squee in the tags are absolutely welcome, if you feel so inclined. Thank you! 

[rami-pastrami]

𝕗𝕒𝕔𝕖𝕥𝕚𝕞𝕖 ; 𝗿&𝗯

date; 3.3.2020 time; 8pm (los angeles) - 4am (berlin) notes; mostly just soft stuff. also @jlxngz mentions b/c 😏

@brendonisms

brendon

the hotel was cold. despite the large, fluffy comforter burying his tired limbs and the slumbering athlete beside him, the emptiness had still managed to follow him overseas. the endless glasses of jameson did little to remedy this, though he was pouring himself yet another as the familiar ringing filled the quiet room. "hey, you." once rami's features were coming into view, brendon was slouching ever so slightly against his pillow, the lamp on his bedside table the only thing warding off the darkness. "sorry if i'm-" a yawn punctuated the statement, despite the fact that he felt awake as ever. "-ugly right now. jet lag's a bitch.." a tired smile littered his features. "how are you? what time is it there?"

rami

he'd had his own brand of restless nights as of late -- prior to his rehab, he's struggled to fall asleep in he first place. now, he couldn't seem to stay asleep, try as he might, and many hours were wasted laying in bed, willing the sleep to return. it meant that his sleeping schedule was highly irregular and his days were sprinkled with sporadic naps here and there to make up for time lost during the night. stretched out in bed despite the early hour, rami's curls were a wild mess that he hadn't considered fixing before noticing them on his screen after brendon picked up. his eyes narrowed at his own reflection but a smile was quick to follow at the singer's languid greeting, his attention darting from the top corner of the screen to settle on brendon's sleepy features. "you're never ugly, just stupid," he corrected him gently. the lighting was a bit better on his end, given the time, which he had to turn his head to look at the bedside clock to confirm. "seven-ish.. only slept three hours last night though, so i'm pretty out of it," he answered in a low tone. "good otherwise, though... lonely, but you knew that." another soft, upward twitch of his lips and a quick inhale. "how's berlin? s'late there... party too hard?" his tone was light and genial -- anything but judgmental.

brendon

"just stupid. right." rolling his eyes fondly, brendon took in what he could from the screen, everything from those tired eyes to messy curls. though several weeks had passed, the polynesian frequently found himself dwelling on emerald orbs and unexpected confessions, and though rami had admitted to seeking help, the incessant worry seemed too stubborn to give him rest. fortunately, with the actor in his view, it was quieting down. "only three?" thick eyebrows raising at the admission, he was sure to keep his tone non-accusatory as he asked, "why haven't you been sleeping?" the mention of partying was bringing another roll to his eyes, though a smile was soon following. "berlin's.. lit. really lit. practically had to carry j home the first night." eyes momentarily tearing away from the screen, he eyed the slumbering brit before meeting rami's gaze. "jesse, i mean. lingard. the footballer."

rami

each eyeroll just made rami grow a little fonder, and for a moment, he loathed how far away berlin was from LA. "dunno.. trying my hardest, but the brain just doesn't seem to want to be quiet for too long. it's alright, i've been catchin' cat naps here n' there, i'm surviving." an eyebrow quirked at the nickname, and when brendon elaborated, rami couldn't stop the look of disapproval that marred his otherwise happy expression. a grunt came tumbling forth, married with an eyeroll of his own. "jesse? ugh. you'll find better company a the bottom of a barrel of dead fish," he groaned. despite his harsh words, there was something about the way he said it -- and perhaps even the hint of a smirk that danced across his lips -- that indicated his annoyance wasn't fully hostile in nature. "let me know if he dies along the way, i'll be happy to arrange his funeral."

brendon

not incredibly pleased with the explanation, though under the impression that surviving was as good of an answer he could hope for, brendon forced the remainder of his light interrogation down for another time. this became easier as rami's reaction to the footballer fed through the screen. muffling his laughter behind a clenched fist, the polynesian took a moment to catch his breath and ensure he wouldn't dissolve into a louder fit of chuckles before responding. "i always forget how much you guys don't like each other." though, the same could be said about himself and the footballer as well. "it's funny because you're pretty much 'twinning' in every possible way." restless as ever, he fingered at his glass of whiskey before taking a swig, letting the silence wash over him as he sorted his thoughts. "i dunno'.. just didn't wanna' be in la anymore, i guess." the added explanation incredibly delayed, he wouldn't be surprised if the actor struggled to keep up. "tired of my house.. starting to get tired of the studio. just needed a change of pace for a bit."

rami

"fuck, perish the thought," rami grumbled in response to their apparent 'twinning'. "he's dumber than a horse's ass, and about as cute as one, too." a sideways glance to the glowing screen of his phone showed off the full-blown grin that now rested over his look of irritation. it faded a bit at the silence that passed between them, comfortable as it was -- but then brendon was speaking again, and rami had to pause a moment to follow his train of thought. "ah.." he muttered gently, nodding his head. "i get that... shit, i've run off to other countries twice now just 'cause i couldn't stand another moment wherever i was at the time." there was another beat of quiet, and then rami was adding in a hushed voice, "just ah, don't disappear for a year, like i did, okay? n' if you're ever sick of home, you're more than welcome to stay at mine... sami's gone, so i've decided to reopen it to the public."

brendon

“really?” the statement taken by surprise, brendon’s curiosity had gotten control of the reigns. the egyptian’s mental health had only fallen on his radar recently, and the topic frequently found its way into his endlessly running train of thoughts when mornings were quiet or worries especially loud. “i won’t disappear.. i promise.. zack would kill me.” the musician’s manager had gotten so skilled at reigning him in over the years, it made impulsivity in the wake of looming commitments less likely. “where did you go?” fully aware he was toeing the line, brendon gently nudged on. “like.. when you disappeared?”

rami

".. argentina, for the long stint. it was after joe n' i finished filming  the pacific.." he shook his head, closing his eyes while his brow knitted as the ghostly remains of all those complex emotions were recalled to the forefront of his mind. "got it in my head that it'd help with my.. issues.. didn't, obviously, and i ended up back in LA and moved in with my brother. the other time, it was to thailand, for a couple weeks. hid out in the jungle in a little bungalow till i felt better. so.. like i said, i get it."

brendon

“all the way to thailand?” the hypocrisy so painfully loud it was hard to ignore, brendon was hesitating. the similarity between the situations suddenly made the remaining liquid in his glass seem like a sliver, though he resisted the urge to pour himself more, already considerably inebriated. “and.. did you feel better?” by the look of things, apparently not, though brendon asked anyway.

rami

"not particularly. but i knew a few people would be getting worried, so i crawled back to face their wrath. it sucked.. probably wouldn't do it again, at least i don't think i would, but you never can tell with these things." he looked back to brendon, lip pinched between his teeth for a moment before he went on. "i'd at least make sure to tell the one's that'd miss me before i went, i suppose that's the biggest difference between then and now. it was a panic thing... left with nothing but my dog and the clothes on my back, didn't so much as tell a soul where i was." rami smiled gently, almost sadly. "so at least i'm talking to you now, huh?"

brendon

the whole prospect seemed ludicrous. the polynesian had had his fair share of benders to date, though nearly all of them involved another unlucky soul he’d lasso’d into doing his bidding. he’d never been good at being alone which probably explained why the idea seemed so far fetched as a result. “yeah.. no falling off the grid unless you’re getting help.” the hypocrisy leaving a bad taste in his mouth, he was taking another, longer swig from his glass and letting the burn take over his senses. “are you.. gonna’ be hanging around la indefinitely then?” using a ringed finger to trace the rim of his glass, his gaze periodically flickered to the half-empty bottle across the room. “when you’re not sexing up captain marvel, you should.. come over.” any company was better than nothing at that point. “i have penny this month and word on the street is she misses a certain someone so.. mi casa su casa and shit.”

rami

rami's gaze followed the glass as it was lifted to brendon's lips, and he couldn't help the mild twitch of concern in his expression. "roger roger, corporal," he agreed softly, dragging a hand over his face. "mm? oh... for a while, at least. sold the place in new york, didn't uh.. didn't want to see the inside of that apartment again, as you can imagine. thinking about finding a different one instead, but i don't know. don't really have anything keeping me there anymore... it'd just be a stand-in for the occasional hotel room.." a gentle smile spread across his lips at brendon's offer, shaking his head at the thinly veiled analogy for i miss you. "thanks, bren. i will." before he could continue, a naked paw came from the bottom of the frame, toes spread as it stretched to pap him carefully at the corner of his lips. rami made a face, kissing the cat's paw before gently pushing it away with his free hand. "you gonna be back by this weekend, you think?"

brendon

"should be back by this weekend, yeah." should being the keyword. brendon knew he couldn't avoid la forever, especially what awaited him within, but every day spent away seemed to alleviate the symptoms that had been eating away at him since the new year. "i'm heading to seoul for a night or two-" or three. "-might extend my stay if it's especially litty, but i'm pretty sure it's cold as shit over there too, so." he shrugged, already fed up with berlin's frigid climate two days in. "probably will end up missing the city sooner than planned." the weather, at the very least. "so.." no inclined to linger on the topic of his own flighty behavior, he was bringing another swallowed question to light. "..how long have you and brie been an item?" curiosity mostly fueled this. "i know you mentioned being friends for years, but i never knew there was an us."

rami

"oh yeah? that'll be fun. keep warm wherever you end up and for however long, then... my little marshmallow." he added the last bit with a knowing smirk, nestling back and nodding his head as the conversation moved elsewhere. a topic that he really hadn't talked about with anyone, at least not in any great detail... he tended to be a private person, but that dynamic understandably had to change when it came to partners. which... neither brie nor brendon had agreed to such a label, and rami wouldn't be one to push it, but once there were feelings involved, he was more inclined to be forthcoming about equally important relationships. "well.. not long, actually. first week or two of january this year, she'd just broken up with her girlfriend and i went over to offer comfort.. ended up being a bit more than the usual brand, clearly." he shrugged. "normally wouldn't want to end up a rebound like that, but there was a lot more going on beneath the surface.. things we said to one another while it was still innocent. plus, i thought it was going to be the last chance i had--" he cut himself off, his train of thought completely derailing as his brain caught up to his mouth and realized where he'd been headed. no need to bring that up now, it was done and past, and brendon had suffered enough anxiety at his expense already. "... so i just went with it."

brendon

though he only just recently became aware of the actor and actress' relationship status, it wasn't as if it were a huge surprise. his attraction towards the pair were like two halves of the same coin, though the musician was more emotionally devoted to one side than the other. the dance his fingers had been doing with his now-empty glass was coming to a stop as he set it aside and he instead busied himself with a loose string on the end of his long-sleeved tee, rami's words washing over him. "yeah?" he'd murmured following the brief monologue, catching the unfinished sentence though choosing not to acknowledge it. "well.. i'm happy you two are happy." as tiredly as he'd said it, it was true. all the polynesian seemed to want these days were his loved ones general well-being, despite their determination for the opposite. his eyes were instinctively flickering towards the slumbering athlete beside him as the thought fluttered from his mind, and the heaviness was returning in his chest, though he didn't voice this either. "life's too short for what-ifs. second-guessing is so 2019."

rami

a quick, well-intentioned smile was thrown in brendon's direction, but rami couldn't help but feel that something was amiss. "yeah," he agreed quietly, having noticed the shift in brendon's attention. the musician's words floated around his mind for a few moments before he sucked in a gentle breath, doing his best to not let the concern he felt show on his face. "are you happy?" he let the question hang in the air for a few seconds before adding, "i know we've been... well, we were pretty focused on me and my... troubles for a while, but... this impromptu getaway, this need to get out of LA.. you alright? there something you wanna talk about?"

brendon

he'd just about tugged an entire sliver of loose threading from his sleeve when rami's question was dancing from his device, though he waited a few extra beats before choosing to respond. "i'm not.. unhappy." his emotions a feat too complex for even himself to tackle on a normal day, brendon was adding a shrug before shaking his head. "just tired of the city." it wasn't a lie. every day spent in the warm, humid stuffiness that was los angeles seemed to drive the musician closer and closer to madness, though he couldn't pinpoint why -- or simply refused to. "don't worry about me. i'm not.." worth it. "..gonna' vanish or anything. just needed a change of scenery." the lies that'd seep from between his teeth had no taste these days, repetition breeding ease. "i'll probably end up dozing off on you soon though." he was adding in a more lighthearted tone, lips curling into a half-smile. "just a.." a yawn punctuated the sentence. "..warning.."(edited)March 10, 2020

rami

there had to be plenty he wasn't saying, rami could read that on his face despite the pixelated lag. but, he knew better than anyone that sometimes accepting the little lies was the best course of action -- he trusted that brendon would come to him if things became unbearable, or at least bad enough that he wanted to share the load. for now, rami would let him deal with things in his own way and make sure he was always there as a safety net, should the need arise. he hoped, though, that it wouldn't. he hoped that the musician's restlessness would either find a productive outlet, or ease off naturally. "okay," he said gently, giving brendon a small nod. "i trust you." his smile broadened when his counterpart yawned, tongue clicking disapprovingly. "go to sleep, love. ah, but make sure you pound some water first, yeah? gotta promise me." rami's gaze dropped, the fond grin still lingering on his lips. "lookin' forward to seeing you.. i love you. take care of yourself for me, yeah?"

brendon

i trust you. rather than vocalize how that was an ill-advised decision on so many different levels, brendon was nodding curtly, resisting the returning urge to eye the abandoned bottle of whiskey taunting him on a distant table. “gonna’ pound that water real good..” he was murmuring suggestively, a more authentic, tired smile gracing his features at the undertone. “and i love you too.. throw back some nyquil if you keep having trouble and enjoy some wicked hallucinations while you’re at it.” entirely joking, he was carding restless fingers through his messy fringe. “and.. thanks for the call.” he’d added as an afterthought before he was hitting the red button hovering at the bottom of the screen and things were going black.

[mollymauk-teafleak]

Come Home With Me (part six)

Okay, so all I can say is I’m sorry. 

Thanks as always to my beautiful beta readers and friends @minky-for-short and @spiky-lesbian

I always appreciate reblogs, comments and donations to my ko-fi!

-----

“Love, all I’m saying is hear me out…”

“Mollymauk, the answer is no.”

The tiefling groaned dramatically, flopping back, head hitting the wall with a dull thunk. Most of it was exaggerated theatrics, enough that Caleb was fighting back a smile.

“I told you, I don’t perform. I’d be terrible at it.”

Molly jerked back up, eyes wide and emphatic, “You keep saying that but how do you know if you’ve never tried it?”

Caleb put on an exaggeratedly pensive face, ticking off on his fingers, “I can barely speak coherently when it’s my own thoughts let alone anyone else’s, I hate people looking at me, I don’t like wearing clothes that aren’t mine, I get horrible stage fright, I hate being the centre of attention…”

“All of those things you just listed are the things I love about performing,” Molly huffed, leaning against Caleb’s shoulder as if the weight of him could physically push him into agreement.

“Well, we are two very different people, Liebling,” Caleb reached a hand up to start stroking his hair, digging his fingers into it.

They’d been having this argument, or at least a version of it, every day for the past week. Ever since Mollymauk had decided to save them the trouble of packing and unpacking the tent for towns simply too small to contain it comfortably and put on plays instead, using the town hall when offered or the wagon that converted into a stage when not.

Plays had always been part of the circus’ repertoire but now the summer was over and quickly turning to a butter autumn, Molly had decided to rely on them more and more, as they were more portable, a more secure bet in some places and his troupe were more than up to the task.

And some that very much were not.

“The part isn’t that big! It’s half a page at most,” Molly continued, tone wheedling, “And its perfect for you. The guy’s a humble innkeeper who seems so ordinary but then later he’s revealed to actually be one of the most powerful wizards that’s ever existed…”

“And this is perfect for me, how?” Caleb raised an eyebrow.

Molly nudged him with a shoulder, “Don’t put yourself down. You are incredibly powerful.”

“Then let me make the special effects and do the magic stuff I’m good at,” Caleb returned easily, kissing the side of his head.

Molly pulled a face, “You have an annoyingly narrow view of what you’re good at.”

Caleb wasn’t sure if he was being told off or not but he could sense the care and love behind Molly’s words so he let it slide, kissing him again.

One good thing about the days getting colder were the travelling days like today, where Molly drew the curtains tight, pulled a blanket around the both of them and they could let the world roll past with less than a glace, whiling away the hours together, curled up and warm and safe.

Summer had been fun, even Caleb had to admit, the raucous, colourful days in Port Damali had been everything Molly had promised. Confetti and lanterns, music and laughter, the taste of sweet, rich wine and Mollymauk never leaving his lips. But that just wasn’t what he was built for, the handful of weeks had been more than enough. Now, with the blustering wind and bitter rain surrounding their perfect little pocket of warmth, he was content as a cat.

“Believe me,” he said, with a tone of finality, “Your play is better without me in it.”

“Nothing is better without you,” Molly said softly, after the barest pause, his hands finding those fingers of Caleb’s that weren’t busy combing through his own curls.

Caleb hesitated, just a little. Not because the words were unkind but because they sounded more like the start of a sentence, a hanging thread made to be followed. But Molly didn’t follow it. He just cleared his throat and turned back to the script book he’d set hopefully in Caleb’s lap that morning.

For a few seconds, his fingers flitted idly with the page ends, lifting them and letting them fall before sighing, “It’s not a day for working, anyway. Want to try that thing we saw those two exotic dancers do back at the Port?”

Caleb felt his face go red, “Yes. Yes, I do.”

There was finally a break in the rain and Molly had called a halt of the caravans so they could all stretch their legs and get a little air. Caleb tugged his trousers back on from where they’d ended up (strewn on the overhead lamp, somehow) and ventured out into a deliciously fresh day.

Everything was green and jewelled with fallen raindrops, sparkling in the sun which too had come out to stretch and sigh and breathe the air. Puddles like miniature lakes filled potholes in the road and Frumpkin’s ears twitched interestedly as a dappled brown frog went hopping past the caravan steps to wallow in one.

“Don’t you hurt it,” Caleb warned sternly, as his cat slid from around his shoulders where he usually perched like an extravagant stole and plopped down to the ground.

If a cat, or rather a powerful fae being in the body of a cat, could look exasperated, Frumpkin did so, twitching his tail. But Caleb knew he’d listen.

He left Frumpkin to poke excitedly at a very disinterested frog, continuing on through the stalled procession. His friends waved and called out to him as he went by, most to comment on the weather or the state of the road, Jester to comment almost proudly on the hickey the size of a plum blossoming on his chest. Caleb jumped a little, laced up the front of his shirt tighter and thanked her quickly.

At the very edge of the caravan, where the road met the edge of the forest, he found Caduceus, instantly recognisable from quite a way off. Even sat as he was on the very lip of the road, seeming not to mind the black, wet earth clinging to his trousers, the firbolg almost as tall as Caleb and his tail swept lazily behind him. A gentle, swaying metronome rather than the twisting snake of Molly’s that seemed to have a mind of its own.

“Hullo, Mr Clay,” Caleb said conversationally as he paused by his side. Caduceus had never been anything but sweet, reassuring and kind with him and he intended to return the favour.

“Mr Caleb,” the firbolg returned easily, voice low and deep as the wind itself. His eyes were turned out to the forest beyond them, a longing in them that was almost painful to look at. After a moment of quiet, or really the only quiet that could be found in little pockets of near wilderness like this which is to say a quiet full of chirping birds, slow dripping of water, and swaying leaves, he murmured, “It smells of home.”

“I suppose it does,” Caleb replied after a moment, though he wasn’t quite sure how he felt about that.

They’d turned the edge of the circus’ travelling route, kissing the Menagerie Coast goodbye before pivoting and making a slow, winding course in the other direction. They were still so far from anything Caleb had ever known in his younger days but still, in his quieter moments, he’d found himself constantly aware, in an itchy kind of way, that every turn of the wheel now brought them closer to the Empire rather than further away. Closer to Rexxantrum. Closer to Ikithon.

Part of him wanted that. It would be a lie to say otherwise. The anger he’d found in Blumenthal still burned in the very pit of his stomach, like coals that refused to go out. Most days he could ignore it, days where Molly was nearly always beside him or he had a show to prepare for or maps to search through. But it was always there, the desire to see terror in Ikithon’s eyes, the way he’d always seen his own terror reflected. The need to break and tear and scream, part of him that still felt the chafe of the heavy magical chains he’d only recently been able to throw off his own memories. The need for Ikithon to feel even a small fraction of the pain Caleb had been in for years.

But then there was the other part of him that was so utterly and completely terrified of the shrinking miles between himself and Rexxantrum that he couldn’t move. Bren knocking on the door of his mind again, with all of the constant, gnawing fear that Caleb couldn’t understand how he’d ever borne. A voice that still whispered fearfully that if he went back now, as fast as he could, begged Father’s forgiveness, blamed it all on the circus folk, maybe it wouldn’t be so bad.

In the moment, thinking on it, tears stung Caleb’s eyes and he had to blink them away quickly. He just wanted to know when he’d feel okay again. When he’d be gifted the ease with life, the simple contentment that came so naturally to everyone else around him. When he’d feel normal.

When, another part of him thought, he’d feel like someone worthy to ask Molly what else he’d meant to say that morning. And all the other times he’d felt his lover pause, hesitate, like there were more words on his tongue that he was letting go of, like birds hesitant to leave the nest. Maybe even say some things himself.

He’d thought Caduceus was deep in his own thoughts but those almost elephantine ears twitched and he turned, just in time to see the tears before Caleb managed to get a firmer hold on himself.

There wasn’t the slightest hesitation, the firbolg reached out and grasped Caleb’s much smaller hand in his own, squeezing comfortingly. The size difference made him feel half a child but Caleb didn’t mind that right now.

“You were someone else back then,” he rumbled, voice almost like Frumpkin’s deepest, most contented purr, “You are so much stronger now, you can see it in your eyes. Different place, different person, y’know?”

“I don’t,” Caleb admitted, smiling weakly, “But I trust you so I guess we’ll see.”

Caduceus laughed at that, turning back to the forest, “That we will, Mr Caleb.”

“Where have you been?” Molly saw him coming from where he was perched on the wheels of their caravan, by the looks of things to get a good peer at the clouds overhead as if that would help him judge the weather better.

“Just for a walk,” Caleb called, strolling up.

An incredibly muddy Frumpkin, clearly having had a successful hour of chasing frogs, miaowed in greeting and jumped up to his shoulder, leaving a trail of muddy paw prints up Caleb’s arm.

“Well, settle in,” Molly took off his top hat and shook raindrops off it, “Just looked ahead, the road is flooded and a tree’s fallen right across it. No way we’re getting through until it dries up and we can get it clear.”

Caleb frowned, “Strange. This is the king’s road. It should be better maintained.”

Molly shrugged, nimbly jumping down and avoiding a puddle, “If we troupers had our way the roads would always be straight as arrows, the days would be sunny and everyone would tip in silver. Such is life.”

He had to smile at that. Everything was half a poem with Mollymauk.

“Either way, we may as well pass the time somehow.”

Caleb winced a little, “I don’t think I can stand another round, Liebling. I could barely walk as it was.”

Mollymauk smirked at that, looking more than a little proud, “Look how dirty minded you’ve become in such a short space of time. I love it. But no, what I meant was if you’re not going to be in my play you can at least help me run lines.”

Caleb blushed, though not as ferociously as he might have blushed a year ago, his cheeks barely reached the colour of his hair. He liked helping Mollymauk run lines, playing all the different characters to give him his cues, moving through the stage directions with him in an exaggerated manner, using whatever was around them as makeshift props. He would even do voices, delighting when Mollymauk would collapse in laughter.

Performing for strangers was one thing but just making his tiefling laugh was another. Molly made a good audience.

Caleb sat cross legged on the bed, cupping a mug of coffee with both hands, letting the warmth spread through him before he took a sip. They’d splashed out on a bag of the stuff in Port Dumali and though there were only a handful of beans left, every cup still reminded him of sand under his back, the prickling of skin that had been warming in the sun all day, Molly crouched over him, his lips slightly sticky with mango juice as he kissed down Caleb’s neck.

He could sense a lifelong addiction on the horizon.

“Right…” Molly flicked quickly through pages. He always held scripts with a kind of reverence, a respect. People quickly learned not to dog ear their scripts or throw them around carelessly when their ringmaster was around.

But today, there seemed to be a manic energy about him. He swept through pages carelessly, nearly tearing some of them in his haste, as if his hands were occupied but his brain wasn’t. His thoughts seemed to be somewhere else entirely, worrying at something restlessly like an anxious dog.

“Molly?” Caleb pressed gently, worry creeping into his voice, “Is everything alright?”

The tiefling looked up like he hadn’t noticed anything wrong at all, a mask of calm indifference quickly sliding into place, “Yes? Why?”

“Nothing,” Caleb shrugged after a bit of a pause. He chalked it up to his lover’s inherent dislike of having to sit and twiddle his thumbs, not being able to press on with their journey.

Molly found his place finally, “Okay, so this is the climax of the whole thing. Classic tender admission of feelings that gives the hero the push he needs to finish off the big bad guy.”

“Right,” Caleb nodded, smiling.

In the first few weeks since he took up his position, when he mostly haunted Molly’s caravan for fear of Ikithon being behind every roadside shrub, he’d devoured the many plays and scripts and books of tales the troupe kept on hand to whip out at a moment’s notice like colourful scarves. The idea of having all the time in the world to read was too good to be believed at first. He’d read each and every one cover to cover until the tropes were clear as stage directions; the stiff morality plays, the plays where gods and goddesses meddled in the affairs of mortals and everyone came off the worse, the plays where everyone ended up dead at the end with one character left alive to deliver the closing monologue and even the incredibly raunchy plays where every other line was laden like a pack donkey with innuendo and several roles amounted to nothing but making loud sex noises from off stage which most of the troupers found hilarious and loved to be assigned.

A few of that last breed had been brought out to play in Port Dumali as well. Caleb had missed a fair amount of his technical cues whenever Molly took one of the major roles.

But this was definitely not one of those plays. From just that brief description of one scene, Caleb knew it instantly to be a rousing, chest thumping tale of heroics with three magic items- always three- a humble old beggar man who turned out to be a powerful mage, enough vicious monsters to fill the stage and a witty, beautiful love interest.

There was a nice familiarity about always knowing how a play wound end, reading the traditions and tropes as easily as a road map. Even if the ending was sad, the worst kind of tragedy that would keep him very busy conjuring up gouts of fake blood, it was still nice to know what you were going to get. Caleb could see why so many poor folk would scrounge up the dregs of their rainy day money just to see their plays. It wasn’t as much about entertainment as it was about comfort.

Another thing Caleb realised was that he didn’t know this play. The hand was unfamiliar to him and as he scanned his eyes down the character names at the side, none of them sparked any recognition. He hadn’t realised before, having refused to pick it up whenever Molly presented it to him, firm in his resolve to have no part in it that didn’t involve being well hidden from the audience’s view.

“Is this new?” he asked, eyes flickering up to Molly.

“Yeah,” he nodded, “I picked it up in the Port over midsummer. They’ve got the best writers there.”

Caleb paused, hesitation holding him still. You’d think being a performer would make Mollymauk a peerless liar, seeing as it was his livelihood to pick up other faces and other truths but weave them into something utterly believable. But in fact, the opposite was true, at least with Caleb.

Caleb knew what his voice sounded like when what he was saying wasn’t quite the truth, when he was acting a part. It was subtle, nearly untraceable, the difference between being in an empty room and being in a room where someone was sleeping but you hadn't noticed them yet. And it would have been invisible, to someone who didn’t hear Molly’s other voice, his own voice, every single day and treasured it more than anything else in the world.

Caleb could always tell when Mollymauk was lying. And he was lying now.

A wary prickle started up between his shoulder blades.

Molly didn’t notice the slight change in him, smiling and picking up his script book, “Okay. Your line, love?”

Caleb nodded slowly and found his place on the page. No voice yet, not until he got a grip on the character, “I just don’t know what to do. It feels like there’s no way forward.”

Molly smiled and nodded encouragingly. He spoke in his own voice too, not even his acting voice. His own, honest voice, “I know you’ve had a hard life, my love. People have hurt you and lied to you and that’s awful but believe me, you’re stronger than you can ever know.”

A beat of sweat started running down Caleb’s back.

He cleared his throat, looking down to his life, “But what if they were right? What if I am useless and worthless and broken?”

Molly reached out and took Caleb’s hand. It was in the stage directions.

“Look at everything you’ve achieved in spite of what they said. You’re brave and strong and kind and every day, even when it felt like too much, you kept fighting. How many people would do that?”

Caleb swallowed, starting to see where this was going. He wondered where on earth Molly had found someone to bind this, who he’d hired to write it out so his own handwriting wouldn’t be recognisable. So much gold, so much effort...all for him…

The next lines were his. He took a deep breath and found it shook.

“Why are you telling me all this?” he asked, not able to meet Molly’s eyes.

Even without looking at him, he could feel the smile in his voice. Soft and shy and hopeful. The words were there, printed in black ink, stark on the creamy white page but he didn’t need to see them to know what was coming next.

“Because I love you, Caleb Widogast,” Molly murmured, smiling hopefully. The complete and total truth, wholly sincere.

This time it wasn’t a forest silence. It was a total silence, a waiting silence.

The caravan creaked slowly in the wind, rocking a little, though as Caleb sat there it felt like the tossing of a ship in the grips of the worst kind of storm. He felt himself torn into two halves, a rushing, pulsing in his head that was growing sickeningly loud.

And Molly looked at him, eyes red and wide. Grief began to creep into the edges of them.

Caleb threw himself to his feet, barked out, “I need...I...um…” and fled through the caravan door.

Exit stage left.

Not that anyone came particularly deep into this part of the forest, as wild as it was, as thick and green and natural was the darkness. But if they had, they might have seen the scorch marks on the thick, ancient trunks and wonder what kind of beast had been through, rampaging and reeling and managing to gouge out parts of such enormous trees. They probably would have gone back to their villages and talked of dragons, great green dragons with moss on their backs and hungry teeth.

They probably would have been very disappointed to know the actual cause of the marks was an average height, hormonal human wizard, sniffling tearfully as he launched fireball after fireball at anything not sentient in his path and hating himself.

Caleb had never been allowed to be a teenager. He’d never been allowed to feel things so intensely that they burned in his chest, to hate and love without any kind of restraint, to throw things haphazardly around a bedroom in pure frustration. Everything he felt had needed to be kept small and contained, caged inside himself like an angry little animal that would claw and scratch his insides.

So now, twenty six years old, he had no idea what to do with everything he was feeling. He’d had no kind of training, no practise. So, in typical fashion for someone who was at least a teenager in training and a fair way behind everyone else, he was throwing fire around and trying to destroy everything around him that couldn’t actually feel pain.

After a few moments, he’d come exhausted, panting and covered in a fine sweat that made his hair stick to his forehead. But then he’d remember Molly’s face, the way disappointment and anguish cracked the edges of his hopeful expression. Pain that Caleb had caused after he’d been given nothing but kindness and gentleness.

And the fire would flare to life in his hands again and he’d throw it out in front of him, sobbing, “Stupid, stupid, stupid…”

He should be overjoyed. He should be ecstatic. He should be back at the caravan, kissing Mollymauk over and over until his lips became soft and lovingly swollen, letting his hands wander.

He should be saying those words until he ran out of voice.

But instead he’d ran. Like the worst kind of coward, he’d ran, from himself more than Molly’s gentle offer of love. He’d panicked and bolted like a frightened deer, terrified of the emotions he found inside himself.

The rain started up again, thicker and fuller than before until it was like someone up above was simply pouring buckets of water down onto the forest floor, and Caleb’s fire burned out along with his anger. He slumped down onto a nearby stump and let the fat raindrops run down his face until he was completely soaked to the skin. He made no attempt to get under any cover.

He wanted to love Mollymauk. But to love took a kind of bravery that maybe he didn’t have yet. He’d loved before, he’d loved his mama and his papa, and look how that had ended.

To see a fire burning in front of you and plunge your already scarred and blackened hand back into it, what kind of foolishness was that?

The sound of the rain was deafening so Caleb didn’t realise Frumpkin was there until he felt wet fur rubbing against his ankles. He jumped a little, looking down and seeing his cat, looking utterly sodden and very pleased with himself.

“Chased off every frog within a five mile radius, huh?” Caleb grunted, reaching down and dandling those wet ears.

Frumpkin gave a purr that Caleb couldn’t hear over the rain but could feel under his fingertips. He had to smile a little when he felt it, that low rumbling that had kept him going so many times when things had seemed impossible and he’d been lost in his own mind.

And, like all those other times, something inside him became unstuck and he started to talk.

“It’s just…the whole idea of it scares me,” he sighed, voice low under the patter of the rain on the leaves up above, “I’d just accepted that I was never going to know anything even close to love, I’d written the whole idea off. And now…now everything’s changing. And I’ve never liked change, Frumpkin, you know that.”

Frumpkin blinked his amber eyes, like two dollops of honey, and flicked raindrops off his whiskers.

“But…” Caleb bit his lip, “I guess running away from an abusive home and joining a circus is a huge change too. And that worked out pretty well, as far as these things go. And it took a while to get there but it was all okay in the end.”

The smell of wet dirt filled his nose but it was that warm, rich sort of earthy smell that’s actually very nice. There had never been those kind of smells in Rexxantrum.

“Caduceus is right,” he said softly, ruffling Frumpkin’s fur, “I am someone different. I’m not Bren any more, I’m Caleb. And maybe it’s okay that what I want changes. That I want to be loved now and I want to love in return. And it might not be okay at the start…but it will.”

He sat in the rain a moment longer and looked down at his cat, “I should be having this conversation with Mollymauk, shouldn’t I?”

Frumpkin blinked slowly, making it clear that he thought that was obvious.

“Right,” Caleb smiled crookedly.

He stood, let Frumpkin settle around his shoulders and strode off back towards the camp.

The thought had occurred to Caleb but he’d let it pass so quickly, he’d barely even registered it. The king’s road was supposed to run straight and true from one end of the empire to the other, it had done even back when there had been a king. Nothing was meant to hamper it or block it, if it was, crownsguard would remove it quick as blinking.

Unless, of course, something was placed there deliberately. A fallen tree, not swept aside by the wind but cut at the base. Deliberately felled to block the path of a troupe who came this way every year at the exact same time.

Caleb knew something was wrong before he saw it. Even with the rain, it was too quiet.

He stopped, face paling, Frumpkin bristling around his shoulders. No voices, no music, no laughter, making the unpleasant task go faster. Silence like a held breath.

He broke into a run.

It had to be magic fire. The rain would have guttered out any normal flame and still the caravans burned even as nature desperately tried to stem the damage. Caleb ran past it, unable to stop, knowing something worse was ahead.

Molly was in the centre of the worst wreckage, splintered gilded wood and torn fabric, soaked and trampled into the mud so it lost its brightness, all scattered around him. He was soaked and struggling to breathe, looking like a butterfly with its wings torn away. Left there, thrown aside, discarded so he would be the very first thing Caleb saw.

The tiefling raised his head, looking like even that simple motion caused him intense pain, and saw Caleb there. Grief flooded his eyes and he mouthed a word lost to the rain.

“Run…”

Caleb did, though towards him. Of course he was allowed to get maddeningly close, a few steps away from their outstretched hands meeting, enough to hope. Enough that it hurt all the more when the spectral hand closed around him and yanked him back, slamming him down to the ground.

Mud and water rushed into his nose and mouth, bending him double with wracking coughs, incapacitating him with burning lungs. He could hear Molly crying his name, over the ringing and rush of the rain. But then that too was lost as something seized his wrists and yanked them behind his back until his joints screamed, jerking him into an upright position.

“Bren, I can’t tell you how disappointed I am.”

Caleb’s heart plummeted down to the pit of his stomach. He didn’t want to open his eyes, some small childish part of him hoping beyond all sense that if he didn’t, none of it would be real and it would all turn out to be one of his awful nightmares.

But then the pulling on his arms increased by agonizing increments, tugging with a cold, ruthless indifference until it was nearly a certainty that his shoulders would tear from their sockets.

With a dry sob of pain, he opened his eyes, blinking through the streaming water.

Ikithon stood there, holding Mollymauk by a limp arm, his face carved from stone. He didn’t seem to have changed at all since Caleb had seen him last. The same cold eyes, the same hard line of a mouth, the same lantern jaw. And despite everything, Caleb felt the same fear grip him.

He hated how familiar it felt.

“Lucky that I found you before you could do anything too stupid,” Ikithon continued, voice calm and casual like he didn’t have a tiefling whimpering in pain and dangling from his hand, “Not to worry, those disgusting people who spirited you away have been taken in by the crownsguard. They will be duly punished.”

“No!” Caleb rasped, trying to fight against the force keeping him bound, “Please, don’t…”

“Because surely,” Ikithon snapped, his voice hard as ice breaking underfoot, “Surely you, my faithful ward, the boy I rescued from the streets, wouldn’t run away and shame me like this? Tell me the truth now, I’ll take you home and it will be as if none of this ever happened.”

Caleb winced. He knew exactly what Ikithon wanted. He wanted him to denounce Molly and all of his new family, he wanted to hear Caleb lie and blame everything on them, believe that it would truly keep him safe. All so he would have the guild of his admission, that extra crack in his heart, to weigh down on him even harder when they went home and he received his full punishment.

And once, not that long ago, he would have done it. But Ikithon didn’t know Caleb Widogast.

Something gave behind him and his hands were free. Lightning filled his cupped hands, lightning that seemed to come from the fury in his eyes.

But there it stayed.

Because without hesitation, Ikithon dragged Molly bodily in front of him, shamelessly using the younger man as a shield.

“Now Bren,” he counselled, voice low and dangerous, “Do not do anything foolish.”

Wrath and desperation filled Caleb’s voice, “The only foolish thing I ever did was believe your lies. I’m stronger than you, Ikithon, you know I am.”

Something flickered behind those cool blue eyes. Fear. He was right.

All the training, every time he had been beaten into the ground under the guise of teaching, it hadn’t been to make him stronger. It had been to keep him weak, keep him scared, keep him a tool. Because when it came down to it, he could turn Ikithon to ash.

And Mollymauk with him.

“Very well then,” the fear turned to the worst kind of ice cold desperation and he took Mollymauk’s hand, holding one of his fingers in a cruel grip.

The hands Molly held his swords with. The hands he played his lute with. The hands that had held Caleb so many gentle ways.

The hands he depended on for everything.

Ikithon’s hands jerked. There was an awful snap over the rumble of the rain. Mollymauk screamed.

“No!” Caleb wailed, the lightning dissipating to nothing, leaving only the smell of ozone.

Cool as anything, Ikithon moved to the next finger. He would snap each one, snap them beyond healing, and not even flinch, just to see Caleb break. And there was no way Caleb could stop him, not without hurting Mollymauk too.

Caleb felt as though he was immersed in ice cold water, vision foggy, lungs burning, heart gripped with shock. Unable to see which way was up. All he could do was cry out.

“Okay,” he sobbed, falling to his knees, the force taking hold of him again, “Okay, I’ll go with you. Just…just please, leave him alone.”

“Oh, we have gone far past you being able to make demands, insolent wretch,” Ikithon snapped, muscles tensing to yank again.

But Caleb managed to choke his words out faster, “I go with you. You take me, you leave them alone and don’t hurt them anymore. Or I’ll tell everyone what you did to my parents.”

That froze Ikithon where he stood. There was an awful lot an archmage could make disappear, a terrifying amount. But the cold blooded murder of two innocent citizens of the empire…that would be too much.

“Whatever you think you know…” the older wizard frowned, though without much conviction. Caleb had learned over the past year to spot bad actors and this performance wasn’t worth a bent penny.

“I know exactly what you did,” Caleb threw all the venom he’d been harbouring since he’d knelt in the charred skeleton of his first home into his voice, “I saw the ruins myself. I spoke to people who saw what you did. I got my memories back, you fucker.”

Ikithon narrowed his eyes. It was obvious how much he despised this, how much he hated Caleb gaining any kind of ground. A small part of Caleb’s mind whispered the truth that was starting to dawn on the both of them simultaneously.

He’ll kill you, the voice whispered, you’ve made yourself too dangerous. He’s just going to take you back to Rexxantrum and kill you.

Fine then. Caleb set his jaw resolutely. As long as Molly was safe.

“Very well,” Ikithon let Molly fall. The mud soaked into his colourful coat which was torn all the way up the side.

Caleb stood, his legs shaky, shrugging off the binding spell. Ikithon sniffed, though that uncertainty in his eyes spoiled the effect of his previous domineering stare. That gave Caleb a small amount of satisfaction, at least.

“I’m saying goodbye,” Caleb limped his way over to where Molly lay, “You call off the crownsguard. Tell them the troupers are forgiven.”

Ikithon looked over his shoulder, eyes narrowing.

He swallowed, feeling his stomach turn over, “Please. Father.”

The one, petty win was apparently enough. With a dismissive grunt, he walked away, down to where Caleb could now hear the sounds of angry, muted conversation just beyond the trees.

Part of him hoped Molly would have passed out. Part of him didn’t want to have to do this. But something in his brave, beautiful, stubborn tiefling had held out. His breathing was shallow, his eyes fluttered open, as Caleb came over and knelt beside him.

“Caleb…” he rasped, voice pained and weak.

“Don’t try and move, Liebling, it’s okay…” Caleb somehow managed to keep his voice calm even as his insides roiled at the wounds he could see on Mollymauk. He desperately wished he knew some healing magic, “Caduceus is coming, he’ll fix you up.”

“Caleb, please…” Molly’s hand clung to his sodden, filthy shirt, “Please don’t go with him. I…I can’t lose you…”

“And I can’t lose you,” the tears pushed dangerously at him now, he only barely managed to keep them at bay, “It’s like you said, Molly, the best way to make me proud is just…live. Keep going, keep telling stories, keep singing songs. Make people smile.”

“Not without you,” Molly’s face was wet with something that had nothing to do with the rain or the blood.

“Please?” Caleb kissed his hand as he removed it from his arm, “For me? You saved my life, this is just me returning the favour.”

Molly still shook his head, still sobbed but he was too weak to do any more than that. Caleb moved away from him without too much trouble.

“And…I love you,” he whispered, eyes really stinging now with the effort of not dissolving into sobs, “I suppose I should say that too. I’m sorry my timing is so shitty.”

Molly’s wretched cry was what broke him and he turned away quickly before it became too painful. If he looked back, he would be done for.

“Tell the rest of them I’m sorry,” he continued, voice still calm, as if they were simply saying goodbye before the two of them went off to their starting places for another show, “I don’t think I have time to say goodbye to them all so…just tell them how grateful I am. To all of you.”

He could hear Molly shifting behind him, “Caleb…please, don’t, please don’t leave me…”

Caleb swallowed hard. He could feel the dull, pulsing energy of the transportation spell Ikithon must have used to get here, just beyond the tree line. He could feel him waiting for him, ready to make good on the promise his dead eyes had made if Caleb tried to back out on their arrangement. He would kill them all and he would save Mollymauk for the last and longest.

One foot in front of the other. Don’t look back.

“It has to be this way, Molly. Please…have a good life for me.”

Caleb had read all the plays, he knew how they had to end. If he were taller, broader in the shoulders, if he had a magic sword or something like that, he would fight Ikithon and he would win. If he was cleverer, if he told better jokes, he would be able to trick him and save the day.

But some stories just couldn’t end that way. Some stories were tragedies.

Caleb didn’t look back as he stepped into the trees.