#get off the hill and come sit with me in the valley. the water is cool and refreshing. we can both drink our fill and admire the sunrise | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

sunlightmurdock · 3 months ago

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AETERNA | Four

Three | Masterlist

chapter synopsis: rooster gets a glimpse of what he’s been waiting for.

warnings: bradley bradshaw x reader x jake seresin. supernatural circus au. smoking; the fic takes place in the 70s and so 70s era things will happen; this fic has mature themes and is intended for adults, minors pls dni. spooky stuff. word count: 8.8k

There is a river on the O’Malley land that comes from way up in the mountains, spilling down into the valley that Atwood was built upon. Across some pastures and some trees, there’s a quiet spot where nobody ever comes — not even the seasoned pros who got their fishing licenses direct from Mr. O’Malley himself.

In the early mornings, Rooster gets antsy. He tosses and turns in the swelter of his camper for a while, counting the rays of gold that pass across the weathered ceiling. He can hear everyone else tossing and turning too.

He hears Paulie and the guys still up talking from the night before. Waylon snoring wildly from a few rows away. Erin and Tomas feeling each other up in their tents.

It has become his common routine to now give up sleeping once the morning sun crests the roof of the farmhouse up on the hill. On those mornings, he goes walking.

He came across the spot where the horses are buried. Where the blackberries grow and brambles have started to consume an old chicken coop. Then, he came across the spot by the river.

As he plucks at the strings of his beat-up, old guitar on Monday at noon and tries to pretend that he’s all alone, Rooster regrets ever telling his chosen few about this place.

It had been fun, at first, when the eight of them had taken the walk out there and spent a couple of hours cooling off. But now, he’s stuck with the sound of Jake’s voice while the others play in the water in front of him. He should be grateful that the rest of camp hadn’t bothered to invite themselves, too.

The next place he finds, he won’t be as quick to share.

Jake basks in the sun, his skin shining gold. He’s laying in his boxer shorts on the smooth rocks that verge the O’Malley’s access to the river, his arms crossed under his face and his eyes closed.

Rooster sits at the edge of the rocky riverbank with sunburnt shoulders and a guitar in his hands, strumming absently at something old. He’s watching his friends swim; Natasha sits on Bob’s shoulders and Callie sits on Rueben’s as they chicken fight in the clear, moving water around them.

The conversation between himself and Jake fell stagnant a few moments ago. His brown eyes track the blue dragonfly as it plays around the reeds that stand tall, out of the water, thinking of what Jake had last said. He can’t let it go.

There isn’t a lot left for them to argue about, these days. Something shiny and new comes along and the habit strikes back up.

“If she’s got any sense, she’ll stay away.” Rooster sounds much older than he is sometimes, and that’s why all those lonely older ladies love him so much. Jake doesn’t bother to lift his head, but Rooster can hear his smile through his words.

“She’s got a sense of adventure, old man,” Rooster is only a year and a half older, technically. Jake teases him anyway. Rooster plucks at the strings like it doesn’t bother him. “And the sweetest tits. She’ll be seein’ me again.”

Rooster misplucks.

Jake grins against his arm, a beaming smile from under his sunglasses, content with the idea that he has gotten under Rooster’s skin.

The sun scorches above them, one of the first days in early May where the sun dares to be this hot. There’s still a light breeze, one that makes the heat just about bearable outdoors, but one that makes the river a straight godsend.

Callie shrieks as she topples off of Rueben’s shoulders and crashes into the cool water, sending droplets of water flying over Rooster’s thighs.

It’s a very unassuming scene, these town newcomers playing at such normality, right as the Redbrook River fishing season picks up. It’s far from secluded, just not frequently stumbled upon this far out.

Jake lays undisturbed, grinning against his arm, as Rooster tries not to picture your tits — more specifically, Jake’s hands on them. It’s bad enough he had to listen to it all. It’s a conflicting thing to have enjoyed so much about what he was hearing, and to have known it was all for Jake’s benefit.

“Keep dreamin’, bud,” Rooster answers right back. Their group of friends continue to splash in the water, long past the days of being fazed by Jake and Rooster’s competitive streak. “She thinks you’re a freak.”

Jake’s lips quirk and he twists his hips and rolls onto his back, draping an arm over his eyes. The sun covers his chest gladly, bathing him in mid-morning light. “I can work with freak. She thinks you’re a stick in the mud with an attitude problem.”

Maybe I am, Rooster acknowledges bitterly.

“If she likes you so much, why’s she chasing me?” Rooster counters.

Jake takes his arm away from his eyes and props his elbows against the flat, warm surface of the rock under him. As he lifts his sunglasses, the light catches on the green of his eyes, twinkling daringly as he looks across at Rooster. His grin stretches wide across his lips, dimpling at just one cheek — practically the only thing not symmetrical about his face.

Rooster stops plucking at the guitar. He fucking hates when Jake smiles at him like that. Smug and daring— and Jake knows how much he hates it.

He sets the guitar down swiftly and stands up, shaking his head. “Fuck you.”

They’re joking, but Rooster knows you won’t come chasing after Jake as easily as he would let on. He scared you last night; really scared you. Gave Rooster the impression that you’re smarter than he gave you credit for when you had first come poking around out here, all by yourself.

From the second things felt wrong, you had hauled yourself out of that truck like your hair was on fire. And, you hadn’t left your friend behind.

You had gone home last night, and you had checked that the latch on your bedroom window was locked. He had heard it click from across the fields, but only because he had been listening out for it.

In theory, he likes you. He’s sure that the two of you would get along just great. But, way out here is no place for a lady.

“You act like it’s my fault your balls haven’t seen action since Roosevelt died.” It’s a slight exaggeration. Rooster’s moral compass sometimes loses its true north, and he winds up rolling out of someone’s bed before sunrise once again. It’s easier when he knows he’ll never see them again.

Jake tends to be a little more… sentimental, about things.

Rooster opens his mouth to speak. He’s standing there with water droplets drying like flecks of gold on his freckled shoulders, his curls wet at the nape of his neck and his blue boxer shorts clinging to his thighs and what hangs between them. Jake looks him over, pushing up onto his elbows, venom on his tongue.

The words die in Rooster’s throat as he looks up the riverbank and finds where the faint ringing in his ears is coming from.

Upstream, nestled in the shade of the pines, Amelia watches them all. He wouldn’t notice her if he wasn’t specifically looking for her, tucked halfway back into the treeline and sitting down, her sketchbook open wide in front of her.

Her hair is wild and messy, like it always is. She must know that Rooster is watching her, but her eyes are on the ones in the water, cold and blue. Too calculated for a girl her age.

“I’m going into town,” Rooster decides, not speaking to any one of them in particular, but loudly enough for them all to hear. Amelia looks at him. Her pale skin and sharp eyes remind him of a porcelain doll sometimes, and not in a good way. “Don’t need me.”

They will, undoubtedly, need him for something around camp. Everyone around here earns their keep, despite frequently having no place in the world to be but right here. Given that Rooster no longer performs, his duties around camp look a little bit different to everyone else’s.

He breaks up the fights, and man there are plenty. He’s the one who heads into town; he can keep his head down and get what he needs, a polite face and someone not interested in finding new friends. He keeps the customers where they’re supposed to be on show nights.

Rooster pulls on his jeans and he takes his guitar.

On his walk back to their settlement, through the trees and across the fields, he gets to thinking about how much this sprawling land reminds him of fuzzy childhood memories.

He remembers his parents in shades of blue. The broken porch swing at the front of their house that his mother wasted away in. His parents’ bed with the slight dip in the middle. The car rusting away in the back, while he was still too young to drive it. He remembers everything about his mother and her sickness.

His feet brush across the grass and he thinks about his existence back then. Growing like a weed, always feeling hungry and always being too tall for his jeans. Playing with the neighboring boys in the street out front. Looking at that picture of his father in his service wear on the mantle, wondering what he would look like at that age.

Far beyond it now, Bradley hasn’t much considered his similarities to his parents. In some ways, his life is better than theirs ever was. Hell, he’s seen more of the continental United States than they ever could have dreamed of from their West Virginia trailer. He has time, which they never seemed to have enough of.

That being said, he’s glad they never got to see who he would become.

“Mornin’.” The voice startles him, which is a surprising feat in itself. Jeans unbuttoned and his shirt fisted in the same hand as his guitar, Rooster spins on his heel to look, finding Gus O’Malley himself sitting on the front porch of the Big House that Rooster had been passing by.

“Oh. Good mornin’.” Rooster tries to find it in himself to be polite, like he doesn’t know the kind of man who sits in front of him. He saw the fist-shaped hole in the house’s back door. “Sir.”

Gus is an average-looking man, with thinning hair and sun-reddened skin all over. Sun damage across the tip of his nose and his forehead, wrinkling him beyond his years. “Where are you headed?”

He looks Rooster over with an especially spiteful kind of envy.

“Just back from the river, I cut through the field.” Rooster explains with a quick gesture back over his shoulder.

Gus, red-headed and sitting with his hands on his rounded stomach, gives Rooster a look over.

“Yeah, I saw y’all out that way,” Rooster tips his head slightly, studying the amused shift in Gus’s tone. “That one with the dark hair, she your girlfriend or something?”

A pang of protectiveness strikes him. It’s not just about the fact that Natasha, who had been sunbathing on the large, flat rock that protrudes from the middle of the river, is like a sister to him. It’s that Rooster hadn’t once spotted Gus.

He hadn’t heard the heavy rattle of his strained breathing, or the lazy thudding of his heartbeat. It prickles at him like heat.

As much as Natasha can care for herself, and take care of men like Gus, Rooster doesn’t want his bulbous nose poking anywhere around their digs. His mouth tips toward an aloof smile, disarming.

“Or somethin’.” He tells Gus with a soft nod, despite having never touched Natasha in his life. Gus smiles back at him approvingly.

“How are you finding it here? — I heard Maggie was putting you to work.” Rooster knows that Gus considers this question to be a test, and that he’s gauging exactly how close Rooster has been getting to his wife.

“Quiet. Nice to have somethin’ to do sometimes.” Is all that he offers up.

Gus’s mind ticks over the answer. He leans back in his rocking chair and nods his head. “Well, you kids stay outta trouble.”

The saying is that trouble tends to follow — and that isn’t quite the case for Rooster and his crew. They usually just happen to be where the trouble is already occurring. Well, that isn’t quite the case either. There’s nothing incidental about those two things.

You too, Rooster dreams of saying aloud. Instead, his eyes spark with a calm and polite smile as he nods his head and takes that as his dismissal. “Yes, sir.”

It plays on his mind as he pads his way back to his camper, images of Gus leering at them from his truck, probably drooling something fierce. Had it been while Rooster was teaching himself that Ray Charles track, or was it while he had been bickering with Jake? — What had he been so distracted about that he hadn’t noticed?

Gus hasn’t been around much since their tenancy began, and Rooster hopes that things will be that way for the majority of the summer.

His trip into town requires more clothes than are generally needed around camp. Shoes, for one, are a must, and shirts that are actually buttoned and paired with a tidy undershirt are appreciated too. He combs some tacky, woodsy-smelling pomade through the sides of his hair to tame the air dried, river-mussed mop of curls.

Perfectly presentable to go into town and hang fliers all afternoon. He could have taken Jake and Javy with him, maybe some of the others, cut his task load in half. But the alone time is worth the hundred or so extra papers.

As some kind of sick testament to the joke that Rooster will never really be rid of Jake, Elvis on the radio accompanies him into town.

He hears you before he sees you. Smelling of daisies and cheap cigarettes and a fresh pack of gum, he twists his neck around at the stop sign and starts to wonder if he’s losing it. It’s not until the truck comes around the bend that he finds you.

Perched on the back steps of a large, brown-stoned building with a cigarette in your hand and a worried little frown plastering your face. Your hair is scraped all the way back, tucked into a neat updo, and you’re wearing a candy-striped tunic with white knee socks and Keds. Perfectly presentable.

It makes him think of the first day that he saw you, on the seats of that truck on all fours and waving at him in those little shorts.

“Maybe not branded,” You muse, letting your head fall back against the wall behind you while Olive studies the new baby blue colour on her nails. “Is there another word for when someone burns a shape into your skin?”

You don’t notice the green pickup truck pull past and head for town as you fret to Olive. It’s been a while since you had a man to complain about, but this isn’t your usual kind of conundrum.

She smirks. “Maybe it’s something freaky-deaky.”

The back-and-forth repertoire thing that brought the two of you together fails today. The witty remark dies on your tongue with a wistful sigh. You wish you could laugh with her. He laughed it off pretty easily, waved you goodnight like nothing had happened.

It just doesn’t… feel right. There’s an unsettled feeling in the pit of your stomach that you just can’t shake. “D’you think it’s like a cult thing?”

That’s no joke. You hear the stories about the hippies still hanging out in the countrysides, girls going missing across the country. Mansonites that didn’t wind up on death row.

Your folks let you get away with a lot, but joining a cult might push the boat out a little.

Olive doesn’t seem half as fazed. The miserable guy who named himself after the least impressive animal on the farm hadn’t seemed too worrying to her, beyond his attitude. “His hair was short. Guys with crew cuts aren’t in cults.”

She’s still kidding. The comment wasn’t meant to reassure, and it doesn’t.

“Yeah.” You guess, knees tucked up to your chest as you mull over the idea. He looked tidy. Smelled good. His hair was certainly a little longer than a crew cut. Rooster’s hair was longer again. Neither of them looked particularly unkempt — Jake had smelled like a piney, masculine cologne.

Cultists surely didn’t take such a pride in their hygiene.

Now, Olive knows not to joke with you too much. She had seen the dazed way you had stumbled back into the bar, colorless and rendered silent. It hadn’t taken a genius to figure out that whatever went down in the cab of that truck wasn’t a joking matter.

She just hadn’t expected it to be so strange.

You hadn’t been expecting him to let you go. Surely if he was so dangerous, he wouldn’t have helped you back into your shirt. Maybe you’d had too much to drink, but you don’t remember the last thing he said to you.

Something along the lines of taking care of yourself, making sure you got home alright. Entirely unthreatening, as he had remained in the cab to buckle his belt and wait out his boner, you guess.

“Why didn’t you just ask him what it was?” She frowns at you, plucking her cigarette from her lips and stubbing it out on the wall. Break time is over and soon Conrad will come looking,

You don’t remember that either.

You must have made such a fool of yourself scrambling out from under him and offering no explanation as to why his tattoo gave you the jeebies so bad. But then, he hadn’t exactly offered to settle you about it.

Your nose wrinkles as you straighten out your dress and follow your best friend back inside.

The Pines has this perpetual kind of dust smell. Olive joked once that it was something to do with all the time running out around here. It’s a joke that sticks with you sometimes when those years of dust are making your sinuses itch.

Faded yellow walls and deep blue carpet. Stock-image paintings on the walls. It’s an okay place to send your parents, in the grand scheme of things.

Your mind is far, far from the Pines today. Out past Airport Road, following that narrow winding road up the O’Malley driveway. You think of the two strange, strange men who live out there now.

“It could’ve been really traumatic.” There can’t be a lot of ways that someone winds up with a cross branded into their skin that aren’t traumatic. Olive doesn’t think that way. She gets her answers when she wants them. She would have asked him then and there. She’s braver than you, like that.

“Yeah. You wouldn’t want him asking about Wes.” Olive sometimes speaks without thinking. His name hits like a ricochet, which is a strange thing. You spent your first seventeen years hearing it every day. It’s a shame that now his name is tainted— it will always bring sorrow.

You’ll never scream it when he’s taunting you again, never again write a gift tag addressed to him. You swallow. You almost have to shake your head to bring you back to what the original conversation had been about— not your big brother.

“No.” You agree. Atwood knows what happened to Wesley. The story spread like wildfire that late July. In a way, you’re glad that it had — you hadn’t ever had to explain a thing for yourself because everyone already knew.

She’s back on the topic of Jake quickly. “So, you think you’ll see him again?”

You linger in the hallway as she knocks on to Mrs. Palmer’s bedroom door. “Didn’t give him my number.”

“But you know where he is.”

“Yeah,” You mull over the idea. Seems a little pathetic to drag yourself all the way out to the O’Malley farm for the third time this week. Not very ‘California’ of you to spend your time stressing over some Carnies. “I dunno.”

“Maybe it’s just a war thing.” She considers, closing the door behind her and leaving Mrs. Palmer with her morning meds. You watch Mrs. Palmer’s blue rinse disappear behind the wood, her head turned toward the window. “He was over there, probably.”

“Probably.” You agree. It’s hard to find a guy born before ‘55 that doesn’t have a thigh full of shrapnel or a jagged scar somewhere he can’t hide. But you’ve never seen anyone with a wound like Jake’s.

Teetering on the verge of hidden and displayed. He covered it up, technically, with the ink and the necklace — but he wears both on top like a badge of honour. You just can’t shake the grin on his face when he noticed that you had noticed.

Like he was excited by it.

Rooster, three blocks away, feels eyes on him from before the heel of his boot first hits the sidewalk. It’s nothing too new for him. These small towns are always filled with people who like to stare, and people who like to ask questions.

Jake’s the entertainer of the bunch, not him.

He’s got his to-do list crumpled up in the pocket of his Lee’s and that’s all he’s here for.

Hanging fliers always comes last. He has found that townsfolk don’t generally take too well to strangers coming and sticking up what they consider to be trash all over their streets. First, comes the library to get those books that’ll keep Amelia from getting bored.

The door opens with a jingle, the bell above it swinging wildly to alert the aging, half-deaf librarian of the stranger in his midst. Rooster’s boots are silent across the worn carpet, heading for the fiction section.

“Afternoon.” He nods towards the staring librarian as he passes him by, earning himself a sound of acknowledgement at least.

Amelia reads a lot, and she passes her books around camp once she’s done. She must have library fees all across the Continental US by now, but they keep her put— out of trouble.

She’s the youngest of their settlement. Maverick’s daughter when the cops come asking, just the kid he had found on the side of the road when they don’t. She’s not like the rest of them. Rooster knows that she likes him, she finds him funny and he doesn’t treat her like a baby — but he steers clear of her when he can.

She’s too curious for her own good. That’s landed them in trouble before. Trespassing seems to be in her nature, and Maverick usually has better things to do than to keep the twelve-year-old occupied. Their crew doesn’t exactly roll with too many babysitters, either.

In spite of all of that, she’s a good contortionist. Rooster watches every weekend as people in the audience gasp and lurch away from the way her joints bend and pop at will. They don’t even notice, half the time, that she’s the same grinning kid who does the aerial tricks in the first quarter.

She’s been good at making people squirm for as long as he’s known her.

“Could I check out these three, please?” He sets down the three dust-covered novels, broken spines and peeling covers included, and looks the gentleman in the eye.

“You’re into thrillers.” The man comments, picking up the top book from the small pile and inspecting it. Rooster doesn’t care to make conversation, or to correct him. He smiles and nods like that’s the case. “I’m not going to ask if you’ve got a library card with us, because I know you don’t. Are you new to town?”

Rooster bites back a sigh.

He smiles something polite, albeit tight-lipped. “Yeah. Working just outside of town, got a lotta downtime during the day. You need my name first?”

Bradley taps on the counter as the man takes down some vague details, asking his small-talk questions each step of the way. He doesn’t take his eyes off of Atwood’s desolate Main Street, where the afternoon heat has driven people back inside.

The whirring fan behind the librarian's head kicks out more dust and lint than it does cool air, growling in complaint with each circle of the fan blades.

Perspiration beads at his weathered, wrinkled skin. The long arm on his smudged watch face tells Rooster that the seconds are ticking on as normal, even though everything here feels so much slower.

He’s grateful for the heat because at least it means fresh air; leaving the librarian behind with another abrupt jingle of the bell above the door.

With barely enough time to walk back to his truck, Rooster realizes that you’re heading his way. Thoughts are buzzing around your head like radio chatter, almost enough to make him wince. He doesn’t even realize you aren’t alone until he catches the scent of Old Spice walking next to you.

He lifts the tailgate and swings it shut with a bang. You notice him as he turns his head. Walking in your cute candy-striper uniform with your bag on your shoulder and a guy at your side.

He almost smiles. This wouldn’t be the first time that Jake’s kissed a girl with a boyfriend and suffered the consequences. But, he knows better than to assume. Plus, the step that you take away from the boy at your side is instinctual.

Barely even a conscious decision, but Rooster sees it and understands what you’re telling him. The blond in the coveralls at your side is not your boyfriend.

In no mood for a conversation, or to upset the poor kid who probably thinks he’s got a chance with you, Rooster opts to give you the same polite nod he had wanted to offer everyone else that has crossed his path today, and turns his back. He walks around to the cab and flings open the glovebox, grabbing the red fliers.

Shoes tapping delicately across the pavement. Perspiration and Old Spice beading along the back of your friend’s neck. The thoughts whirring around that pretty little head as you sneak closer. You’re leaning against the truck when he straightens back up, one elbow popped against the side and your brows furrowed through the glaring sunlight.

Rooster gives you the benefit of pretending that you got the jump on him.

“Hi.” It’s a greeting by nature, but there’s something accusatory to your tone that tells him, yet again, he seems to be being held responsible for something Jake did.

“Afternoon.” Rooster answers you, lifting his head to check on the sulking guy about a foot behind you, watching this exchange with his hands in his pockets. His train of thought isn’t half as pissed off as it could be.

“Are you by yourself?” You ask him, subconsciously reaching back to feel for your updo, smoothing back some humidity-stoked stray hairs.

“Jake’s a big boy, I figured he could watch himself for one day.” He replies, not sounding exactly kind in the way he refers to his buddy.

Convenient for you at least, to be able to corner an inside source. The thought does cross your mind that maybe Jake is being punished in some way for his behavior last night, kept at their camp like a grounded kid.

“So, who’s watching you?” You poke at him, trying to get a feel for the type of mood he might be in today.

He turns his head and looks at you, his expression serious. Maybe it’s the look on your face, or maybe it’s that he likes you, but his hardened expression cracks and he breaks a smile.

“Looks like that would be you, doesn’t it?” He replies, tilting his head to the side, flashing you his stack of papers. “It’s gonna get pretty lame, just warnin’ ya.”

You turn your head and shoot a glance back at where Billy stands a couple of feet back. His hands are balled into the pockets of his overalls and he might as well be tapping his damn foot at you, but he just sulks instead.

Rooster had this look on his face when you’d left last night, just this knowing expression— a real ‘I told you so’ kind of thing. He’s more of a straight shooter than his buddy is, maybe you would get some real answers out of him.

“Well, you need some help?”

She thinks you’re a stick in the mud with an attitude problem, and yet, here you are offering to traipse all over town with him sticking these things up. Rooster looks over the top of your head, glancing back at your friend.

As much as he would get a kick out of watching you hop into the truck and stick with him, Rooster knows better. He’s already shaking his head before he speaks, certain. There’s a place for you, and it’s not with a guy like him — or a guy like Jake, for that matter.

“No, you two look like you have plans and I’m starting way out by the Shop’N’Save. I’ve got this.” He shakes the papers once and leans back against the door of the truck. He isn’t expecting you to give up easy, but he isn’t expecting you to step around him and grab the handle either.

You’ve already made your mind up. “Well, I actually wanted to talk to you, so y’know— two birds, one stone and stuff.”

Rooster stands up and watches with furrowed brows as you pull the door open and step up into the cab. Then, he looks toward your friend. Your forearm grazes at Bradley’s, your skin against his as he stares ahead.

Billy. Closer to a family member to you than a boyfriend with the tepid attitude you’ve got towards him. There’s a loyalty and affection there that Rooster would be grateful for if the roles were reversed.

Rooster looks between you, settling down onto the tan leather seat, and Billy, blue eyes are narrowed and he looking just about ready to rush him. Rooster catches the handle of the door. He considers telling you to get out. He should.

You hit him with an expectant raise of your eyebrows, and crane your neck back to look at Billy. “I’ll call you later. Take Lori out on that date!”

Billy’s mouth opens and closes. Rooster presses his tongue to the inside of his cheek, his decision made for him. Even if he’s your excuse, he’s not going to make you get back out and walk home with the kid when you’re so clearly trying to ditch him. It’s just not gentlemanly.

Your mouth twitches, equally surprised at his compliance as Rooster swings the door to the truck shut with a resigned smile, walking around to his side without much acknowledging your friend at all. You’re watching Billy through the side mirror as Rooster starts the grumbling ignition.

“He’d follow me around forever if I let him.” You mumble quietly. Then, it’s like you remember yourself. You shake your head and sigh. “That sounds conceited, and I don’t mean it like that, but girls ask him out, y’know and — he just— he’d rather pick me up from work and sit in the same diner we’ve always sat in.”

There’s quiet on the other side of the cab, Billy is already walking away in the rearview mirror. You turn your head and he’s watching you, one hand on the wheel and the other out of the window.

“This is what you wanted to talk to me about?” He prompts you, knees spread and his thighs straining against the blue denim, fingers drumming against the exterior of the door. He cocks an eyebrow at you, waiting for your response.

For the second time in twenty-four hours, you’re sitting in the cab of this truck and your mouth is watering. But, you’ve got better sense this time.

“Okay, fine. Look, I want you to give me a straight answer,” You turn in the seat, tucking one knee under you and creasing your features sternly. “About what’s up with you guys. Did Jake say anything after last night?”

He considers relaying the comment about your tits, just to further ruin Jake’s chances, but he plays dumb.

“No, but I figured you didn’t have the best time when you came running back in like that.” Rooster shrugs.

“He just gave me the jeebies,” You admit, fiddling with the hem of your uniform. Your tone is light but your skin is prickled like you’ve somehow found a chill on this warm summer afternoon. “Like that tattoo on his neck, it’s like a scar, right?”

“Yeah, somethin’ like that.” You’re studying him from your side of the bench, and you’re good at it, looking for the smallest little tell. Eyes on the road, he gives you nothing but a shrug. “The scar’s what freaked you out?”

“No, like — it’s weird. How’d you end up in a circus? — Are you on the run or something?”

His mouth twitches. He turns his face toward the window, smiling at the scenery rather than at your face, shaking his head all the while.

“Maybe some folks just get their kicks juggling,” He taunts you with a shrug of his broad shoulders, craning his neck as he turns off of Main and toward Third. “You don’t hear me questioning your career choices.”

“Okay, fine,” You’ve seen Jake drop an entire marquee into stunned silence with his act, he’s undeniably good at what he does. You swipe through the fliers absently. “I just— I got this weird feeling from Jake last night.”

Clearly today, he’s in the mood to play. He quirks one eyebrow and smiles out at the road ahead. “Yeah, they usually tell you all about that feeling in Health Class, I think.”

You swing out a hand and smack at his arm, scoffing out a distinctly unimpressed and unladylike sound. “Shut up! I’m not talking about that, I’m talking… like that tattoo on his neck? — Was that— Was it a burn? — What was that?”

He pulls over to the side of the road coolly, killing the engine and looking across at you like you’re asking him to explain the intricacies of geometry. The Shop’N’Save is dead empty this time of day, feels like you’re the only thing around for miles. He reaches for the door handle and leans back, itching for some space, needing some fresh air.

“Means that Jake’s an idiot who’ll do just about anything on a bet.” He answers as bluntly as one can, taking the fliers from the middle of the seat and the shiny new staple gun from beside them. “He wasn’t gonna hurt you.”

You’re hot on his heels as he steps out of the truck and heads for the telephone pole, taking the fliers as you duck around him.

“I figured that much.” There’s a bite to your tone as you take the page and hold it up against the wooden pole, narrowing your eyes at him. He lifts his brows, unimpressed but amused. “I mean, I’m standing here, aren’t I?”

Standing on a stretch of road that you’ve driven by a thousand times but never once walked down, the breeze catches your skin and makes your white and pink striped skirt blow around your thighs. His gaze flickers between your face and your hand on the pole with a beat.

His boot tucks itself between your tidy white sneakers, his shoulders seeming to stretch wider as he steps up close.

He places his hand over yours and tugs it upwards, readjusting the flier to a height that he deems appropriate. Pinning your hand with his palm, he lifts his other hand and strikes a staple into the wood.

“Call it baggage. Things with us tend to get complicated,” He nails another staple into the other side of the flier, and turns to look at your face, a grin ghosting at his lips. “Hell, why don’t you put that kid you were with out of his misery and go out with him?”

As you open your mouth to argue back, he drops your hand back down to your side with a squeeze and takes a look towards the two buildings to his left. Anything to cut this conversation short.

He jerks his head toward the stores behind him. “Feel like helping a guy out and asking to stick these in their windows?”

“Fine.” You thought he was a lot cuter when you couldn’t hear what he was saying that day out on Airport Road. He leans back against the door and watches you walk inside in your uniform, thinking to himself that you’re plenty cute right now.

Just like he had expected, both the gas station and the liquor store allow you to hang the fliers without so much as a question about why. Rooster wouldn’t have gotten the same treatment.

He lifts his fingers and waves them at you as you cross the small parking lot back towards him.

“Let’s go, unless you want to be out here all day.” You hear him laugh to himself as you walk around the truck and pull yourself into the passenger side. He fixes his smile, knowing that it’s just likely to provoke you.

As much as he’d rather not have you in his passenger seat, you’re useful when it comes to navigation. He wouldn’t have even tried half of the side streets that you point him down. He humors your questions for two hours, giving you barely there answers as the beat-up, old truck rattles down oak-lined streets.

The afternoon sun fades from golden to gray somewhere between Sixth and Elm. The sky hangs low, darkening, a covering of dark clouds threatening a downpour.

By the park, Bradley pulls over and hops out with a stack of fliers, offering you little more than the instruction to, “Stay there.”

He slaps the red papers up where he can, smoothing the papers out with his palm and working them into wooden surfaces with the staple gun. You are left with the rather cushy job of sitting pretty in the cab, while he does the hard work.

A couple of kids whizz past on their bikes, calling out loudly as they cycle home. Atwood is the kind of place where mothers are more than fine with saying goodbye to their children after breakfast and not seeing them again until sundown in the summers.

While following them by, you catch sight of a glinting metal at your feet. Just to check, you feel at your earlobe. Sure enough, your earring sits in the footwell.

As the driver’s side door creaks open, Rooster stands on the sidewalk and frowns at the way you have folded yourself downwards and are reaching for something under the seat. His brows knit together as you strain uncomfortably.

“You okay down there?” He prompts.

You huff, still struggling. “My earring. I hit it all the way under the seat when I was trying to grab it— I must’ve left it last-“

Last night. When you were sprawled across the bench with Jake’s tongue in your mouth. Rooster smiles at the way you stop mid-sentence, like that’s going to save his feelings. Like he hadn’t stood inside and listened to every last part of it.

“Got it!” You pop back up, holding the dainty thing between your fingers and smiling at him. It stretches across your cheeks and your eyes glint with delight. The afternoon sun seems to brighten with you, despite the clouds rolling in from the east.

His eyes widen with a dramatism that tells you you’re being mocked. “Thank god.”

Caught somewhere between shooting him a glare and laughing, your face settles into a reticent smile as you fold your arms over your chest. “You’re a jackass, you know that?”

“So I’m told.” He agrees, settling back into the driver’s seat as the rain clouds decide to make good on their promise. Clicking his tongue, he sits back in his seat and glances across at the very much paper fliers he had just hung. “You hungry?”

“Hungry? Mm, a bit,” You shrug your shoulders, he nods, the answer spurring him into action as he heads back towards town. “Does that make this a date?”

He huffs out a small chuckle, which wounds your ego more than you would like to admit, reaching across your body to tug open the glovebox. “Depends if you’re as scared of me as you are of Jake, doesn’t it?”

Now, that’s the type of comment that doesn’t deserve an answer. You’re not afraid of him. He’s too honest to be frightening. Raw and witty, maybe a little grumpy, but man — that smile is one worth working for. You like him, a lot.

Your lovey-dovey thoughts come to a sudden stop as you track his hand. More aptly, you track what his hand nudges out of the way.

Unfazed, Rooster reaches past the box of Trojans and fishes, instead, for cigarettes. He plucks one from the pack and sets it between his teeth, then looks across at you. Watching him with an unimpressed expression that’s halfway to being a full-blown scowl.

He smiles around the cigarette.

“What? — Did you forget how that earring wound up on the floor?” He taunts you, reaching back across with little regard for your personal space, in search of a lighter.

You knock his hand out of the way and hand him the silver flint-wheel lighter from your own pocket. “It’s a big box, is all.”

He steadies the wheel with his knee, cupping his hands around the flame to ignite his cigarette, shrugging his shoulders. “It’s not my truck.”

“Hm.”

He looks across at you, one brow quirked, and a smile of disbelief toying around the cigarette.

“I’m not saying anything,” You answer, defending yourself with little conviction, arms still folded over your chest. “Just didn’t realize this passenger seat was such a tourist spot.”

He coughs out a laugh around his cigarette, his cheeks warm and crinkling around his endlessly deep brown eyes. His freckles are darker under the gray clouds, dotting his nose. He reaches across the cab and swats at your arm as you had gone for his.

You press your tongue into your cheek; keeping yourself from beaming as his hand comes up and covers your mouth, smelling of the cologne on his wrist and the cigarette he had held.

“Cool it, kid — that spot’s all yours,” He’s still laughing as he talks to you, glancing across at you. Blinking at him with his hand settled across your jaw, the gold ring on his pinkie finger sitting against your chin. He pulls it back to hold his cig, his touch leaving you longing. “Now, what do you want to eat? — I’m buying.”

You crane your neck to look at the brown leather watch on his wrist, already knowing that you’re going to be in the weeds for missing dinner back home. Damage already done, you decide to introduce him to Atwood’s finest— the shitty little diner owned by Billy’s uncle that has had the same shitty menu for thirty years.

It’s the perfect spot, in a hometown kind of way.

You hold your head a little higher than usual as you stroll through the place.

There are a couple of girls who work at Louie’s that will just die when they see you with the tall stranger, and you enjoy that just a little. Rooster enjoys it a little, too.

He’s busy looking around at the decor as he slides into the wooden booth, not exactly critical of it but not impressed either. He shucks a hand through his dampened curls and settles down into the seat, spreading his knees and kicking one of his feet between yours under the table.

“That’s the bridge out by us, right?” He asks, pointing to one of the paintings on the wall. Just another oil canvas in a dusty frame that you’ve never taken much time to critique. You purse your lips as you study it.

“Yeah, you’re right,” You come to realize, glancing back at him. “You’ve been exploring out there?”

He sits back a bit, as a tall brunette comes to fill your water glasses, brown eyes on you and a small smile on his mouth. “Yeah, a little. It’s quiet out there.”

“Lonely?” You prompt, lips stretching into an amused grin. Man, it almost gets him again. He bites at the inside of his cheek to keep from matching your look, rolling his eyes as he looks back towards the painting.

“Get real.” He mutters.

He watches you resting your chin on your palm and batting your eyelashes and simply shakes his head.

“This isn’t a date, by the way,” He’s cool as can be, staring back at you like you hadn’t seen the look in his eyes when you had him laughing. “You did me a favor, so this is me bein’ nice.”

“Well,” You hum, tapping your fingers along the edge of your glass, “I’m glad we’re on the same page.”

Louie’s isn’t exactly a busy spot at the best of times, but especially not on a Monday night. It’s just the two of you, the waitress who was rude to you in the playground all those years ago, and maybe a couple of line cooks in the back.

The entire place is wood-paneled three quarters of the way up the wall, with green paint covering the rest. There are family photos and mass-produced paintings on the walls, and dust on the lampshades. Roy Orbison playing on the jukebox. A candle in a glass jar lit on the table between you.

He pays attention as you recite your usual order, finding the items on the menu as you go. Then, probably to make this thing easy and over sooner, he decides he’ll just take the same.

Begrudgingly, he has to admit that your choice and your order is better than he had been expecting. Good, even. It feels good, being out and sitting across from a pretty girl, picking at fries that are a little too salty, like nothing had ever happened. Trying not to laugh too hard at her jokes, even when his lips keep twitching around the straw of his ice-cold Coke. It has been a long time.

It’s almost disappointing to settle the check, and to have to see you walking ahead of him back to the truck. The rain has stopped and the air is grassy and piney, the sky a fading lilac, casting shades of blue across your skin.

Cooler breeze passes you by, bristling at your skin just enough to make you appreciate the fading heat of earlier that day.

He starts by turning up the radio, tires rolling through a deep, mud-splattered puddle as he pulls out of the parking lot. You should feel exhausted after being at the Pines from the crack of dawn, but he’s got your stomach alight. Tapping his foot to the drum beat absently, one hand on the wheel, his jaw set and his shoulders straight.

“Which way?” Like he couldn’t piece it together. You were walking home today, you’d hightailed it to the right after leaving Dutch’s last night. It would take him minutes to find his way to your front door.

Stretching your arms above your head, you sigh and settle back against the door. “Next left and then right at the lights.”

He was right. The guesses in his head would have led him to the Post Office near the park, and then he spots that station wagon in the driveway. He lets you direct him to the right house anyway.

Sturdy car in the driveway, flower boxes on every window, and the greenest lawn on the street. It looks like a nice place to have grown up. If he had grown up in a place like this, he wouldn’t be itching to leave half as badly as you are.

He looks back to you, watching him and trying to figure out how to route the conversation back to what had happened in that dark parking lot last night.

“Thanks for helping me out today.” The plain white fabric of his t-shirt stretches around his arm as he cards his fingers through his curls.

You bite at the inside of your cheek. Fingers skimming over the stitching in the seats as you try to figure out your next move. Late already, he’s in no hurry.

“I guess I’ll see you Friday.” You decide.

His brows draw together. “Friday?”

You smile, pointing down at the significantly smaller stack of red papers now between the two of you. “Uh-huh. Friday at eight.”

Friday at eight. You’ll stroll through those lit arches, looking for him. His brows knit a bit, but he doesn’t tell you to stay away, that’s not in the rules.

He flattens his mouth a little, almost a smile but not the same kind where his eyes had lit up so bright.

“Right,” He nods. “Friday.”

You smile at him, reaching across and giving his arm a quick squeeze before you turn and hop down from the truck.

If this was a date, he would walk you to your door and sneak a kiss before your overprotective mother found an excuse to come to the door and introduce herself to him, which is when he would be charming enough to impress her but cool enough not to embarrass you.

Your heartbeat ticks steadily in your chest. You’re already thinking about what you’ll wear on Friday night— whether you’ll bring Olive, or Georgie— absolutely not Billy. He watches you climb the porch steps and let yourself in through the creaking, blue door with the glass pane in the middle, not stopping to look back at him because you’re worried that your parents will notice it was a stranger who brought you home. Your mother greets you from the kitchen.

His mouth dries as he pulls away from the curb.

He could be like Jake, and let himself enjoy the feeling. Pretend that he hasn’t done the things he has, pretend that he hasn’t sat and listened to all the thoughts you have about him.

He could pretend that he really doesn’t want to see you at the show this weekend.

But, the sun has already set on his day of normalcy. He turns the sound dial, tapping his foot to the only radio frequency that doesn’t drop out on the backroads out of town, windows down and the scent of fresh-cut, wet grass and new deliveries of hay carried by the evening breeze.

Fingers draped loosely around the cracked leather of the wheel, shooting the occasional glance over to the empty passenger seat.

Lilac skies casting shadows across the rolling fields all the way out of town.

It’s forty minutes before the truck pulls onto that gravel driveway with a growingly familiar crunch. He stops it in his spot by Jake’s trailer and steps out onto the mulchy, wet grass, following the sounds of conversation until he gets to the yellow RV.

The yellow RV houses Natasha, Bob and more recently Mickey — but that’s just until he apologizes to Reueben. Most nights, that’s where you can find the guys. It’s the furthest vehicle on the row, and Natasha always lays out rugs and the camping furniture that’ll fit in the storage space.

Like he knew he would, he finds his friends busied with a game of poker, settled into the chairs they could scrounge up, illuminated by a couple of camping torches.

Jake’s tall tale about one of their times back on the West Coast falls flat, trailing off until it stops all together. He watches Rooster cross the lot, headed right for them.

Wordless, Rooster greets his friends with a cool smile as he steps right by them and plants himself into a wooden chair at the far side of the circle.

“You were gone a while.” It’s Javy that comments first, meaning well, not doing the best job at hiding his cards as Natasha studies them shamelessly from his side.

“Yeah.” Rooster agrees, sitting forwards as Callie kicks her legs up and stretches them across his. “Deal me in.”

Jake’s brows draw together, their round seemingly dead in the water as Bob starts to collect the cards back in. He studies Rooster through the warm light of the lantern, narrowing his eyes just a bit.

“You want to play?” Jake scoffs.

Rooster rarely plays with them. He usually makes a point of keeping to himself, when they’re all together. He likes Natasha, and he’ll keep her company, when he’s not with Maverick. Everyone knows that he likes to pretend that he’s stuck with Jake, rather than accompanying him by choice.

Rooster’s mouth twitches, reaching out and letting Bob set the cards in his hand, meeting Jake’s gaze for the first time since he sauntered past him and sat down.

“Scared you’ll lose?”

…

NEXT CHAPTER

TELL ME WHAT YOU LIKED

tags: @sunflowercharlie13 @spinning-away @eloquentdreamer-blog1@a-reader-and-a-writer@breezyweazybeezy@mel119g@hersuitisbanana@one-sweet-gubler@atarmychick007@ximehs@nnatel@topherwrites@seitmai@yepyeahuhhuh@cherrycola27@ohtobeleah@roosterbruiser

#bradley bradshaw #bradley rooster bradshaw #miles teller #bradley bradshaw smut #jake seresin #rooster bradshaw imagine #rooster x you #jake hangman seresin #jake hangman Seresin au #jake Seresin au #bradley bradshaw au #Aeterna

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vibratingskull · 1 year ago

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"Can you write Thrawn telling his children about his childhood ? And catching up with them as he returned back home ?" -anon

You're tidying up your big, empty bed when you hear the doorbell rings.

"Qiagusa can you go see who it is ?" You demand your son, too occupied at the moment.

You look at your double bed, wondering when was the last time two persons sleeped in it together. A decade, easily, since Thrawn's departure. You let out a discouraged sigh. You mourned him for years, and sometimes you wonder if you did well to never remarry and not giving à father figure to your kids.

"MUM!" Your son calls.

You come running down the stair, almost breaking your neck in the process, ready for anything to be thrown at you.

Anything.

Except that.

When you arrive your daughter is also here, they both look at you with apprehension. A third person is at the door. Another Chiss with silver hair on the temples, a stern expression on his face he ports himself haughtily, the back straight despite his age and an air of control emanates from him.

Despite his age, you know. It's him.

Your eyes lock and you see his sparkling despite him remaining cold. You dare not pass the door to join him, afraid to break the spell and that this apparition disappears.

"I am home."

_______________

Without hinting at fatigue he continues to walk on the sinuous trail that spread over the Mountain, both of the young adults behind him. They follow him with clear unenthusiasm in their demeanor but follow nonetheless.

It’s been more than a decade but he still remembers the way to the secret place, he turns back to see them both keeping behind with some difficulties.

“Nrequi’agu’sairte, Nreqi'beam'esdora. Do not fall behind.” He only gets grumbles in response.

“Can we take a break?” Qibeames ask, almost stumbling on a root.

“No. A Chiss must prove to be physically capable.” He simply shaked his head. “Besides, we are almost here.”

They both sigh, shuffling along and following reluctantly. They had plans for today and following Thrawn in the deep cavernous mountains wasn’t one of them. They escalate hills and slopes, cross rivers and chasms. Finally, after several hours, they arrive at a cliff with a splendid point of view on the valley under it. Thrawn puts down his backpack and takes the time to appreciate the view. Behind him, they drop theirs on the ground and drop down on the floor, their lifestyle didn’t prepare them for such a hike.

Thrawn breath deep, grounding him in the moment.

“We used to come here regularly with your mother.”

“We know.” Qiagusa sighs “Mom already took us here before.”

“She did?”

“Yeah.” Qibeames takes a large gulp of water from her flask “And she already spilled the whole story. Sorry to break your fantasy of being a good dad, but you’re a bit late for that.”

Thrawn doesn’t take note of the insult, thinly veiled, walks up to them and sits down with them. They consciously or subconsciously retract their legs to prevent him from getting too close.

“What did she tell you?”

“She spoke about you, if that’s what you’re asking. She bored us about how great of a man you were and how she never believed you were exiled. No matter how the fact contradicted her!” Qiagusa goes on.

“Qiagusa…”

“That’s Nrequi’agu’sairte to you.” He claps back

Thrawn remains silent, looking at the twins, detailing the appearance of the now young adults that once were babies he could hold in his hands long ago.

Long, long ago.

“I used to have a sister when I was young.” The twins snarl but remain silent. “I loved her dearly. But she soon went away, called by the Ascendancy to protect her people. Then it was my turn, I left my blood family behind to become a Mitth and protect my people to the best of my ability.”

He stares off in the distance with a sigh as memories overflow him.

“I met your mother and I became the most blessed man alive. She graced me with both of you and my work became even more important for I had now three treasures to protect more than anything else.”

They keep silent, the animosity slowly quitting their eyes, leaving place to a prudent distance.

“Then the Ascendancy called for me to step in. It called for me to take action to protect what I hold dear. I had to leave you behind to fulfill my mission, and it tore me apart. But I knew it was the right choice. I knew you would be in good hands with your mother, so I left reassured and with certainty I would come back.”

He looks at them both.

“For you.” They don’t dare look him in the eyes. “Even if it took me more time than what I first anticipated, I am glad I am finally back to see the adult you have become. I know I do not have the right to call you my children for now, too much years have been robbed from us and I was not here for you. But I want you to know that you never left my mind and I am delighted to see you again...”

He smile faintly.

“Even as a simple stranger.”

Qiagusa and Qibeames look at each other, a bit embarrassed, before taking the floor.

“You abandoned us.” She gulps.”Despite everything, mum told us to never resent you, that you only did your best every time. She told us the night before your depart you hold on to our hands in our sleep. That you never wanted to leave us behind, but you did for us.”

Thrawn slowly nods as he listens to her. Finally, Qiagusa speaks.

“It will take time… But I’m sure… Someday you’ll be able to use our core names…”

He silently reach for their hands, after an hesitation they take his and he squeezes them.

Father, son, daughter. Finally reunited.

@Bluechiss @thrawnalani @justanothersadperson93 @al-astakbar

@thrawnspetgoose @readinglistfics @elise2174 @debonaire-princess

#thrawn #grand admiral thrawn #thrawn x reader #thrawn x you #thrawn x f!reader #mitth'raw'nurdodo #fanfic #vibratingskull

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lostinwildflowers · 2 years ago

Text

Arthur Morgan x Reader

Summary: On a quieter day out in the fields, you suggest cooling off in the creek. Arthur isn't so sure about it until you get a little... wild.

Word Count: 4.0K

Warnings: me not knowing anything about RDR2 but trying my best, fluff, suggestive themes, mentions of undressing, implied feelings and thoughts, some mutual pining

A/N: Hey y'all!! This is for my lovely dear and amazing bestie @bluebellhairpin for being an absolute sweetheart. I know about 0 things about RDR2 but I tried my best so please be kind😅 -Birch<3

It was an unusually warm day out in the west, the trails rocky and red with the stain of the harsh dirt. The landscape was ethereal, with large mountains diving into deep gorges on either side, opening into the wide valley where you were riding.

The valley was your current home, with fields of wispy green grasses and low-hanging brush. There were trees near the edges of the fields, and large pines that had been there for generations.

It was a warm day, and a windy one too. The sun was beating down on you and Arthur, making a sheen of sweat build up on your brow.

The wind whipped through the valley, making the only sounds audible those of the trees and grass rustling, and the faint whisper of a creek trickling in the background.

The sound of your horse walking underfoot was almost mute to you, as hours spent in the saddle made you accustomed to the four-beat walk of your horse across the rough terrain.

Bourbon, your trusty bay stud horse, was also enjoying the day. His neck was low, walking quietly behind Boadicea, his black tail flicking off flies casually. The sun beating down left his brown haircoat curled with sweat on his neck and under his mane, but he didn't seem to mind.

You reach down and pet him on the neck with your free hand as you mumble, "Just a little longer, we're coming up on some water soon." Arthur was just ahead of you, determined to lead until he was sure it was safe enough to take a break.

The call of a hawk overhead snaps your eyes to the sky, your straw cowboy hat blocking most of the sun's bright rays. Your (colored) eyes lock onto the conglomerate of crows and hawks circling in the sky, your brows wrinkling as you try to locate what they're hovering over.

"Arthur," you call wearily, "There's some birds up ahead, might need to be on the lookout for bears."

You see him just wave his hand in acknowledgment, and you roll your eyes before you kick Bourbon into a trot, veering off to the side of the small deer trail where the two of you had been scouting.

You sit deep into your saddle as you climb up the small hill, squinting as you look for the kill the birds were waiting for. Bourbon looks attentively ahead, his feet shifting nervously under you as your gaze locks onto the carcass of a dead cow elk in the dip below you.

You can hear a gruff call from Arthur behind you, but you ignore him as you spot a thin coyote chewing on the exposed and worn bones. You turn your head and say, "It's just a 'yote, we should still stay aware though."

When you turn over your shoulder to see if he heard you, Arthur is waiting at the bottom of the small hill, a frown on his face as he grumbles, "Well, I was gon' tell ya we could see that kill just up ahead. But you ain't never listen to me."

At that, he turns and heads back up the trail, aiming for the sound of the faint water in the distance. Your gaze trails after him, and you feel hot, your pearl snap shirt feeling heavy against your skin. And it wasn't because of the sun.

Bourbon was still dancing under your feet at the sight of the wild dog, and you scan the small field again to keep an eye out for any other large predators. Where there was one, more would certainly follow.

You see, Arthur and the rest of your crew were getting ready to move camps, with your current spot only being for overnight as you headed south slowly toward Valentine.

Dutch and the others were still north at Colter, so you and Arthur were out trying to find the best way to get south without being noticed. Thus, you had to spend some warm hours in the saddle, locating the best resources and safest places to travel while staying stealthy.

You and Arthur both decided to just take your horses and leave the wagon for now, as you didn't think it would take you very long. You see, you were a master of the land. You knew every type of plant, the color of every rock, bird, and meat, and which berries were safe to eat. You were a true survivalist, and that's why Arthur kept you around.

It wasn't the only reason, but Arthur definitely saw your strengths in the group, which led him to his current predicament- being alone with you. Not only were you an asset to the group, but you were also gorgeous.

After leaving Eliza, he was set on never showing emotion again, rather keeping to his business and leaving feelings out of the mix. But when you showed up, with Dutch smiling and talking to you, he knew he was going to be in for it.

With your braids of (colored) hair and gleaming (colored) eyes, Arthur knew he wasn't going to be able to make it work. And what was worse, is that you were sweet. Just a truly kind-hearted individual who cared deeply about the others around you.

As you gazed out across the valley, you didn't catch Arthur's glance toward you, noting the way your hair curled around the edges of your hat. Even the way your tan and burgundy striped pearl snap shirt clung to every part of you, he knew that you could seduce a man.

He hated the way he felt toward you because he knew he had messed up in the past. He knew he couldn't do that to you, you were too good for the life he lived.

You turned Bourbon to follow him back up the path as you grumbled, "That sucker thinks he knows better than me 'bout what's out here." Little did you know, Arthur heard you and a small smile tugged at the corner of his lip at your sass.

"Water's up ahead, Y/n/n," he calls over his shoulder, the nickname flowing off of his tongue before he could stop it. He feels a pang run through him as silence fills the air, but he doesn't dare turn around to look at you.

But you were just taking a drink from your canteen, and you froze in place at his words. Bourbon stops as your body stills, and Arthur just barely rides out of sight as you process what he said.

Y/n/n? Is he alright? Whatever, I need to refill my canteen, you think to yourself. You shove the bottle into your pack on the back of your cantle, petting Bourbon on the neck as you trot up the trail after him.

"Lookin' pretty clear to me," you state breathlessly as you break to a walk next to him, panting from the heat of the sun. Your (colored) gaze lands on his face, and you feel butterflies erupt in your stomach at seeing his handsome features.

Even with sweat on his brow and grime on his hands, he never looked better. He had cuffed his sleeves and rolled them up his forearms, exposing the thick muscle.

His hair was longer, and while tangled from the wind and not having been washed in a few days, it still looked soft. His eyes were always masked with emotion so you could never tell what he was thinking, but over time you've learned some of his small intricacies.

You could see the water up ahead, and you shoot Arthur a wide grin as you cut Boadicea off with Bourbon, sliding in front of him as he yelled, "Aye! What're you thinking woman-" "Just live a little, Arthur!" you call over your shoulder, loud giggles falling from your lips as you rush up to the widening creek.

You swing your leg off of your horse, stepping down onto the ground, the thin leather of your shotgun chaps brushing against the red dirt. You pull your reins down from Bourbon's neck, giving him a gentle pat as you grab his halter from your saddle.

You pull his bridle off and slip his halter on, hanging the bridle over your saddle horn before leading him to the water. You can hear Arthur behind you, and when you turn around to look at him, you catch his eye.

He's still sitting on Boadicea, watching you intently. You crack a crooked grin and hum out, "You see something you like, Arth?" You laugh as a frown covers his face, and he turns to get off of his mare as you snicker to yourself.

This is how it usually went, you did most of the talking, and you laughed at his reactions. Bourbon happily drank from the stream as your eyes scanned the banks of the water on the other side, no predators in sight.

Arthur leads Boadicea next to Bourbon, also having slipped her bridle off and letting her drink. Your giggles settle down as you let out a happy sigh, combing through Bourbon's black mane as he finished swallowing.

Once both horses were content with their levels of thirst, you lead them to a nearby tree, loosely tying them so they could nibble at the grass.

You turn around to tell Arthur to fill up his water jugs, but your mouth closes at the sight of him. He had undone the top few buttons of his shirt and was crouched down by the edge of the water. In his right hand was his hat, tucking it close to his chest while his left hand dipped into the water, scooping it up to splash on his face and neck.

Heat flooded over you, almost like a wave of nausea. In an instant, your chaps were way too warm, and you go to start unbuckling them. You feel almost itchy after having looked at him like that, so you try to focus on getting your chaps off.

You unsnap the sides and sigh at the feeling of what seemed like cooler air rushing into your slightly damp jeans, before unclasping it at the belt.

Arthur watched you from the corner of his eye, and he felt his throat drying up at the sight of you. He swore it was just the heat from the sun coming down stronger, but he couldn't deny it. You looked good.

Once your chaps hit the ground and you could take a breath again, you say, "We should refill the water jugs." Arthur nods and stands up with a quiet, "Yeah, go 'head and grab 'em."

You nod in return, turning your back to him to grab the canteens and jugs off of the horses' saddles. In his head, Arthur fought everything in him to not glance at the curve of your waist and hips.

You had this natural sway about you, and as you bent over to grab a bottle you dropped, Arthur cursed to whatever higher power there was that he couldn't tell you what he was thinking. A moment later you appear in front of him, a soft smile on your lips as you hand him a couple of the bottles, your arms completely full.

"Sorry," you mutter as one bottle slips from your hands again, and you reach down to grab it before all of the bottles tumble to the ground. A few choice words fall from your lips, and as you grasp at one, Arthur's hand grabs at it too.

For a moment, all you can think of is the feeling of his rough hand on yours, and you cease motion. You look away from the bottles to meet his eyes, and you find he's already looking at you.

"Y/n/n," he whispers, so close to you. You can feel his warm breath hitting your face, and despite the heat of the day, you can't bring yourself to care.

"Arth..." you reply, butterflies erupting in your belly at the intensity of his gaze. You're snapped out of the moment when Bourbon starts coughing behind you and you feel even more warmth across your face as you snatch the bottle and stand up.

"Sorry Arthur, I'm such a clutz," you say neutrally, grabbing another bottle before heading down to the water, glad your straw hat covered the expression on your face; horror.

He doesn't reply, but he throws his own cowboy hat on the ground behind you before grabbing the other bottles and crouching down to fill them. You could practically feel the heat waves and tension kissing in the air, but neither of you said anything.

You finish filling the bottles and carefully take them back to the saddles, putting them in the packs and taking a deep breath. What on earth is wrong with me? What did I think he was gonna do?

You try to brush it off the best you can, hanging your hat over the top of your bridle on Bourbon's saddle, doing the same with your chaps. As you try to cool off, a mischievous idea comes over you.

Arthur had put his canteen back on his saddle and had reached into one of his packs to grab his leather notebook. He plopped down on the other side of the tree from where the horses were, quiet as could be.

You do your best to ignore him, and as you get to the edge of the water, you start taking off your boots. Then your socks. Then goes your belt. And right as you start to undo the buttons to your pearl snaps you hear Arthur.

"What're you doin'?" It's a simple question, no malice in his voice. You smile but don't turn around to face him. "Cooling off," is all you say in return as you undo another button.

"Y/n/n, you better watch yourself," you hear this time. It's a little more firm, but you still don't turn around. A second later, you let the material of your shirt float down your arms before it joins the pile of clothes on the ground.

You don't see it, but Arthur's blue gaze is locked on your figure. He wants to look away, he wants to give you the privacy you deserve, the respect you deserve as a lady. But he can't.

"Y/n..." you hear again, but this time it's lower. Deeper. And more... well, intense. You keep going though, undoing the buttons to your jeans and shimmying out of them.

You're left in just your undergarments, and you can't help but feel the air whizzing around you. It feels electric from the burning of the sun, but also because you know he's watching you. Taking in every freckle, dimple, and curve of your body.

He's never seen this much of you, and you aren't sure why you felt so bold, but you take a cautious barefoot step forward and into the water. You can't help the gasp that falls from your lips as your toes submerge in the cool water, and a giggle follows a moment afterward.

You take a few more cautious steps, and you don't hear anything else from Arthur. Once you're about waist-deep into the water, that's when you turn around.

And for once, Arthur's eyes aren't on you. A pang hits you in the gut. You aren't sure if it's disappointment, relief, or what, but all you can think of is how foolish you feel at that moment.

That's until you realize what he's doing. You had seen him grab his notebook, yes, but you didn't know what he was going to write. Except he wasn't writing at all.

His thick fingers were wrapped around a small pencil, where you could see him scratching out long, smooth strokes. Your brow furrowed in confusion at his movements, and that's when his eyes meet yours.

"Turn back around," he calls, the faintest smirk on his lips as he chewed at a toothpick he had kept in his shirt pocket. You cock your head and reply, "Ya see something you like?"

The words you had said earlier hung heavy in the air for a second, and you could feel your heart pounding in your chest as you awaited his response.

"Maybe I do," is his response. You blink in surprise and swallow thickly at the implication of his words. Yet, you do as he says, and turn back around.

You reach down into the water with your hands, letting the dirt run off of your fingers and into the creek. You then splash a little on your face, brushing the hair out of your eyes and letting the water cool you and your mind down.

You'd never let yourself be this vulnerable in front of Arthur before, but now you just couldn't stop yourself. Something about being with him, out in the fields with your horses put you at ease.

A few minutes go by, with just the sound of the birds tweeting and the water crackling over rocks hanging in the air. You peer over your shoulder, and when you look at Arthur, he's watching.

The notebook he had been sketching in sat closed on his lap, and a wave of embarrassment ran over you. He'd just been sitting there, admiring you. Not in a creepy or predatory type of way, but simply a man enjoying the beauties of the world around him.

You turn to face him, but as you do so, you completely lower yourself into the water, wetting your hair down to the scalp. When you straighten up, you stay submerged with just the points of your collarbones showing.

"Thinking about joining me?" you ask quietly, a chill running up your spine, but not because of the water. This elicits a laugh from Arthur, a sound you don't get to hear very often.

"Darlin', you're testing me," he chuckles, looking down and flopping the notebook from his lap to the ground next to him. A wide grin slips onto your face as you reply, "Am I? I think you might just want to cool off too, Arth. It's been a warm day."

His gaze every so slightly darkens, and his jaw clenches. It was taking everything in him to not jump up, run over to you, and tell you everything he wanted to do to you. Yet he simply takes a deep breath and says, "Someone's gotta keep watch."

You nod and stand up straight, the water pouring off of you, and you see Arthur's eyes travel from your face, down your body, and back up. You don't say anything as you walk out of the water, heading straight toward him.

He stands up the second you're completely out of the water, and once you're standing in front of him, he takes a deep breath and tries to be respectful with his gaze. Pieces of his dirty blonde hair fall out of place as he looks down at you, and you can't help but feel exposed under his watch.

"Someone's gotta keep watch, right?" you whisper. He nods once as his eyes rake over your face and he mumbles, "Right." You also nod once, taking another half-step forward so you're practically touching him.

"How's the view?" you ask quietly, your eyes blinking slowly up at him, a shaky breath falling from your lips. Arthur locks eyes with you as his right hand gradually comes up to sit on your waist, his fingers gentle and warm against your now cool skin.

He reaches up to his mouth to pluck the toothpick from it, throwing it in the grass behind him without breaking eye contact. Then, with that same hand, he brushes a piece of hair out of your eyes, slicking the wet lock behind your ear.

"I've never seen anything this gorgeous in my life," he whispers. You swallow thickly as you continue to gaze up at him, your heart pounding louder and louder in your chest.

You couldn't think of anything smart to say, so all you can mumble is, "Well, is that so?" Arthur smiles lightly as he catches onto your nerves and he whispers, "Yes ma'am. The most beautiful view I've ever seen."

You find yourself leaning into him, your eyes half-lidded as his grip on you tightened. You can hear one of the horses snort behind you, and as your eyes flick to the noise, Arthur's hand moves to cup your cheek.

His touch brings your gaze back to meet his own blue one, and once again your name falls from his lips, "Y/n, I-" He pauses, his grip on you still firm, but his eyes uncertain.

"What is it, Arth?" you whisper, your features softening. Arthur could hardly speak, with you in his arms, the day warm and your skin cool, he didn't think he could move.

He sighs, his eyes shutting for a few moments before they reopen, and when they take in your face again, he knows.

"I love you."

You don't even blink at his words, you don't change anything about the way you stare up at him. And for a moment, Arthur thinks he's messed up. He thinks he's read the entire situation wrong, that is until giggles start falling from your lips.

A snort escapes your mouth, and he doesn't seem to find it funny. You lean into his chest, belly laughing, and Arthur doesn't know what to do, so he just holds you closer to him as he mutters in your ear, "What's so funny?"

Giggles are still coming from you as you straighten up and say, "I can't believe it took me taking my clothes off for you to tell me that." Arthur groans and goes to release you, but you stop him.

Instead, your hands find each side of the collar of his shirt, and you pull him down into a sweet, wet kiss. The droplets of creek water are still running down your cheeks, but neither of you seems to mind as you pull him toward you.

Arthur goes to wrap both arms around your waist, changing the angle of the kiss to deepen it. His nose brushes against yours, and he can't help but feel like he'd finally died and gone to heaven.

You're the one to pull back first, with a wide grin on your face. You flatten the collar of his shirt before you regain eye contact with him and say, "But I love you too."

His lips come crashing into yours again, pulling you flat against his chest. A small moan escapes your lips as he kisses you, but you could care less. All you were thinking about was the feeling of Arthur against you, and how you never wanted it to stop.

This time, he's the one to pull back, and when you flutter your eyes open to look at him, he smiles. You smile back and quickly lean in to place a small peck on his lips.

It's quiet for a moment before you ask, "What was it you were drawing?" He sighs with a chuckle and replies, "Oh darlin', just the best view I've ever seen."

You giggle once as you lean in and whisper against his lips, "Oh really?" He chuckles too and closes the kiss with a small 'uh huh'.

Needless to say, you weren't getting back to the crew until it was pitch black out, but the feeling of Arthur's lips against your own made any question in your mind lay to rest.

And rather than setting up with the rest of the group for the evening like normal, you found yourself laying next to Arthur instead.

#arthur morgan x reader #arthur morgan #arthur morgan x you #arthur morgan x y/n #red dead redemption #red dead redemption 2 #rdr2 #red dead redemption x reader #red dead redemption 2 x reader #arthur morgan drabble #arthur morgan imagine

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alagaesia-headcanons · 1 year ago

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the wolves' dinner

This is the drabble I mentioned in this post. ( @marimo331 @dayzcakes ask and ye shall receive~)

Summary: Selena spirits Murtagh away to Carvahall so that she and Brom can raise him and Eragon together in peace, hidden from the world. But Murtagh never forgets the truth of his father, possessed of memories that his parents adamantly steer him away from out of their own fear of the past. Yet it does nothing to avert the reconvergence fated for them all...

Word Count: 1,157

Warnings: None

Read below or on Ao3

The field work is done and everyone else has returned to the house by the time Murtagh finishes up his final tasks in the barn. That’s partially by design, as he likes the quiet that arises when he lingers long enough. Selena sometimes chides that he comes in late for dinner, but she always saves him a portion anyway. Brom declares that if he stays out any longer, he’ll provide the wolves their own dinner, but with the good humor of man who’s ensured no such thing could befall him. His parents indulge and love him even as they raise their obligatory fuss. But Murtagh seeks the quiet to think about the things that have no place anywhere else.

Birka nickers at him and he pours a last bit of feed into her trough with a sigh. Judging by the shadows cast by the shaft of light spilling through the doors, he ought to leave soon to avoid another quip about the wolves tonight. Murtagh pats Birka fondly, promising, “I’ll go riding with you as soon as I get the chance.” Then he pulls the barn doors closed and diligently locks them.

In the last dying streaks of sunlight, as he turns to face his family’s secluded sliver of Palancar Valley, Murtagh sees the silhouette of a lone figure on horseback coming up the road. Instead of going directly up the hill to the house, he slowly wraps around the other way towards the road to get a better look, urged by a low, prevailing thrum of curiosity. The person rides into the shadow of a mountain peak, unveiling their colors and features. Atop a gleaming roan horse sits a broad shouldered man wearing a dark, fur lined cloak that looks as heavy as the well worn exhaustion suffusing him. He has black hair streaked with gray and a severe, lined countenance of eerie familiarity.

As his steed trots nearer, Murtagh sees one deep black eye and another of icy blue, and he knows he is looking into the face of his father.

Looking too blatantly for too long, it seems, for the man reins in his horse and throws Murtagh a sharp, skeptical stare with those mismatched eyes. Murtagh makes a token effort to ease his own scrutiny as the man glances at the distant house, then back to him. He scowls, then abruptly swings himself down from the saddle and faces him directly.

“Tell me your name.”

Those words flow like cold water down his spine, rousing him as if from a dream. Because, up until this moment, he could swear he’s had this very dream a thousand times. He cannot tell him the truth, wouldn’t dare, but he must say something. Any lie fleeing him, forgetting every name but his own, Murtagh shakes his head and impulsively answers with a sideways honesty, “I’m no one.”

The man tilts his head and takes a step closer. “Is that so? Because that sounds to me like the answer of a man who’s name could get him in trouble. Tell me.”

Murtagh doesn’t waver despite the alarmingly accurate assessment, pervaded by an incongruous calm. He suggests no guilt or fear. “That’s not what I meant. It wouldn’t mean something so serious because it doesn’t mean much at all. It’d be a waste of my breath and your time because I’m no one, really.”

The distrust in his eyes doesn’t vanish, but it shifts like the thought was shrugged off in favor of something else. “I don’t believe you. You don’t strike me as quite so insignificant.”

“It’s true. Not for lack of effort, but every time I’ve tried to figure out who I am, to make something of myself, the attempt was always disapproved of and cut off.”

The man grunts in acknowledgement. “A very stifled life that will lend you,” he allows.

Murtagh looks down the road in the direction he came, down that valley to the rest of the world, down south, in the direction of the Empire’s heart. “Is your life the same? Or have you tasted more freedom and learned what the world has to offer and made that your own? Do you know what it feels like... to truly come into your own?”

“No,” he declares promptly. “I’m no different. I have nothing to offer you- you’d better look elsewhere.” Murtagh wonders if his mother once felt similarly stifled and if, back then, his father believed differently about his ability to give her something more. “In my life, everything gained comes at a cost far higher than it was ever worth, and there’s no escape from all the loss. So it’s defining. My whole existence is stifled.”

Murtagh knows without a doubt why; his life exists directly beneath the thumb of the king. But he can’t acknowledge that, and it feels stingingly awkward to know the truth behind his bitter remarks far more intimately than he realizes. Instead, he does not confront it at all, gesturing behind the man and replying, “At least it lends you such a fine horse. It must make travelling a great deal more pleasant, because I can’t imagine a better companion than that. I’ve never seen a horse so beautiful. I bet it can race quicker than the wind- I’m jealous.”

Eyes narrowing, his lip curls back and his chin twitches up into a derisive angle, but the motion follows through until he’s turned aside, gaze torn away. He glares fiercely at the horizon, his flash of anger rapidly losing heat until exhaustion has quenched it, which then yields enough room for contemplation. “Well, I suppose you’re right. He’s an exceptional beast. And I appreciate the companionship of any creature that can carry me away, away, away...”

“Away from...?” he feigns, desperate to know what he might say.

The man looks his way, his black and blue eyes suddenly assuming an imposing, indomitable clarity in that moment, taking in every last piece of him. Then he comes a step closer and grips Murtagh’s shoulder, thumb angled down to press into his bicep, stopping his heart mid beat at the sensation of his father’s touch. “For your sake, child, may you never find out,” he intones, like delivering a blessing.

Then he releases him and pulls away, turning back to his horse. After he lifts himself into the saddle, the distance and darkness make the two different colors of his eyes almost indistinguishable. The sunlight dies a fast death in the valley. “Will you tell me your name?” Murtagh asks before he stirs back into motion.

“No,” Morzan says. “No point. It won’t do you any good.”

“Alright. Farewell then, no one.”

That earns him a smile, one so unexpected, his breath falters for a second. “Ha. Same to you, my fellow no one. Good luck coming into your own.” He flicks the reins and his horse takes off at a trot, carrying him away, away from Murtagh.

#eragon #inheritance cycle #murtagh #murtagh morzansson #morzan #my writing #this was primarily a dialogue exercise #i like this idea of morzan being prickly and vindictive in the way a caged animal is #and hes ever watching for a chance to gnaw his way out of that cage #reduced to a lot of raw instincts that result in a lot of harm #(im posting this at an awful time but im exhausted and just want it out there)

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magicxc · 1 year ago

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Hills and Valleys

Synopsis: Legend has it that Halloween is strictly for the scares. With ghouls and goblins, vampires and werewolves, witches and broomsticks, who could disagree?

However, all this friend group wanted was a little trick or treat. Sprinkle in a few party favors, loud music and a cabin in the woods, the myth was bound to come true.

Lurking around the corner is danger like never before, eager to bring this night to a bloody finish.

So join these friends as they fight to make it through a Hallween they’ll never forget.

Word Count: 3506

Warnings: murdaaaa, tha big reveal

Chapter 6 - Jasons POV

A/N: this is legit like my 5th attempt at uploading this damn fic. From the warnings to the word count to the moodboard to the story all the way down to the fucking tagsssss 😩 I am TIRED. Almost turned my phone into jello over Dumblr. So please, enjoy; cause tears def went into this.

Series Masterlist

“What’s with the scrutiny all of a sudden?” Emery challenged. “You know I could say the same for you Jason, the same for all of us really; cause where was anyone when our friends were fighting for their lives?” she sniffled. “All we have to do is sit here til sunrise and we can’t even do that.”

As annoying as I find Emery, she made a decent point. Where was I? Where was anyone and how did this manage to happen unheard? Do I actually believe Lorenzo did it? Not really. He’s lost arguably the two closest people in his friend group, cradling Stephanie in his arms for God knows how long. For a second I almost believed he’d break through the window if it meant he could reach out and hold Julianna much the same; his behaviour eerily composed, reminding me of the calm before the storm - and what a shit storm it’s turned out to be.

Serving in the military, I was taught to survive in extreme atmospheric conditions; training to fight in places as scorching as the desert and as icy as the snow. Our exercises also saw us in unsturdy places such as the choppy currents of the water, arms linked together as we floated on the surface for hours. The sky was no exception either, learning to parachute from altitudes so high the air was all but limited. It wasn’t my dream to fight for this country but, life happens. And while it did come with its perks, I wouldn’t recommend any sane person to join. I’ve scraped so many bodies off the battlefield and sent so many others to meet their maker, I’ve become somewhat desensitized to death - learning to keep calm during the most chaotic and life threatening moments because it’s only then that I was able to live to tell the tale. And that’s what I’ve been attempting since we all found ourselves locked in this place - surviving, lending out my experience to the team who quite frankly doesn't deserve it at this point. All I can do is stay calm long enough to see this night through.

“I think we should waterboard the fucker.”

And here the fuck we go. I’ve never pegged Lynn for such a firecracker but I get it. After all, this night is drawing all sorts of emotions from people: showing our true colors when the universe dangles something so priceless before us.

It's been said that about 1800 people have jumped from the golden gate bridge, yet only 35 have survived the fall. And each person that’s survived has explicitly stated that they regretted jumping halfway through the fall, realising, in the face of imminent danger, just how solvable all their problems seemed. Much like tonight, in what happened to be a party gone horribly wrong, recovering bodies littered around the house like candies during an easter egg hunt, only then do you realise how desperately you want to live. Many people are familiar with the term fight or flight, but what goes most overlooked is a secret third thing - fear. Fear so intense it freezes you to one spot like a deer in headlights, too afraid to move from the oncoming beams of tragedy. But another emotion fear pulls from us is survival, an emotion so fierce that you’d find yourself doing just about anything to have it; even going as far as to commit interrogation tactics of torture.

“Exactly which fucker are you referring to?” Emery questioned.

“Whoever the fucker is responsible for this mess.”

“Go ahead and point them out for us since you know every damn thing.”

They’re on their own with this one. I can't deal with the bickering. I'm used to organized and thought provoking responses in such situations; my irritation rising the more it sinks in just how wet they are behind the ears.

“Lorenzo, you’re one more insult away from me socking you in the face.”

“Whatever Lynn, what you should hit is the books you dumbass,” he retorts.

Throwing her shoe at him, it just barely misses his face; Emery stepping in to call them both childish.

“So help me God if you don’t get your shit together, I’m gonna whoop you like your parents should have.”

“Fuck you Lenny, at least my parents were active enough in my life not to let me get raised by the help.”

“Parent,” Lorenzo enunciated. “Had your dad been able to afford the help, maybe your mom would’ve stuck around you motherless bitch.”

Well shit.

“Jason, do something!”

“Right, uhhh all shoes in the middle of the floor,” I instructed.

“Asshole.”

I don’t know why Emery insists on calling me out. Everyone, despite tonight’s circumstances, in this room is responsible for their own actions. Yet she expects me to jump in the middle of their bullshit every time. I don't know what kind of savior complex they have going on, but I won’t be a part of it. I barely want to be with sugar at this point.

“Lenny you motherfucker, two parents plus the help and yet no one taught you what it means to have common decency; no wonder women can’t wait to get rid of you.”

“Well if it isn’t the whore of Babylon here to teach us a lesson about keeping partners. Tell you what, you teach me how to keep a woman and I’ll teach you how to get rid of the clap.”

“Sex shaming is not cool,” Emery criticized.

“And neither is half the things that's been flapping past Lynn's lying ass lips,” Lorenzo retorted. “If you’re gonna be biased, do so from the corner of the room, cause you’re at about arms length right now and that’s not good for you.

“Would you seriously hit me?” she ridiculed.

I would.

“Are you surprised Em, this is the same piece of shit who yanked Julez arm so hard, it left bruises.”

“You dramatic whore, no the fuck I did not.”

“And that was in front of an entire crowd, who knows what you’re capable of behind closed doors huh? Drowning? Slicing?”

“Sounds like you’re in the mood to find out.”

“Tell me their last words to you as you watched them fight for their lives you piece of shit.”

“YOU GUYS PLEASE.”

Oh my God.

“Shut your mouth Lynn.”

“Tell me every horrifying detail about what fucked you up so bad that you’d turn on your own friends in such a way.”

“I won't ask you again.”

“Steph probably begged you to finish her off didn’t she? Eager to get the hell away from you and your perverted advances.”

For a big guy, Lorenzo’s pretty damn swift. Maybe it’s because all those drinks are still sloshing around in my bloodstream but my cat like senses wasn’t quick enough to catch him.

Angrily lunging toward Lynn his hands are tightly wrapped around her throat, arms trembling from the forceful hold. Beads of sweat drip down his forehead, while spittled foam gathers at the corners of his mouth. Blinking away tears, thick veins line the surface of his neck, incoherent mumbling tumbling past his lips.

Sugar desperately beats at his arms, struggling for air he refuses to give her and my anger shoots through the roof, their foolishness pissing me off for the final time. It takes both me and Emery to tear Lorenzo away from sugar, his grip firm and unrelenting. For a second I feared that he actually intended to kill her. Once we finally manage to drag him away, it takes me putting my full weight on this man, using one of my hand to hand combat moves to lock him into place.

Pinned beneath me, I scream to Emery to grab anything strong enough to tie his arms together. She brings me back one of the kitchen towels and I roll us sideways so that she can wrap it around his hands.

“I - I can't do it, he won’t stop thrashing his arms.”

“For fucksake Emery TRY, there’s only so much I can do right now.

With lots of wiggling and flailing, Emery manages a decent enough knot for me to turn him over and reinforce it. Sugar finally catches her breath before storming into the kitchen.

We sit Lorenzo in a chair while Emery tries to coax him into comfort. Standing up, he head butts me in the face, my nose immediately leaking blood from the impact. My fist returns the favor, knocking him back into the chair. Emery harshly tugs on my elbow, begging me to stop, and it takes everything in me to do just that because this fight was about to turn real unfair, real quick.

Dragging my arm across my face, I look about the room for anything to tie down his legs to the chair, coming up with some loose cloth, which undoubtedly was a part of someone’s costume.

“Fuck all of you,” Lorenzo screams.

“No Lenny, fuck you,” sugar screeched, thumping back to the room; a pitcher full of water cradled between her hands.

“Woah, woah, woah LYNNLEY. Are you fucking serious?”

“As a heart attack.”

“This is Lenny, the same Lenny we’ve known since middle school.”

“People change Em and I'm about to show you just how much.”

“Sugar, maybe we should-“

“Shut up, all of you.”

“I know there’s been a lot said tonight, some things in particular we can never take back,” Lorenzo sighed. “And I know tensions are high right now, but are they so high that you’d all sit there and watch me die.”

“Lorenzo, no one’s gonna kill anyone man.”

“It’s WATERBOARDING, you of all people should know that it can very well get fatal.”

“Enough of this.”

Grabbing a fistful of his hair, she pulls his head back, pouring enough water on him to drench his clothes, before being snatched away by Emery.

It's not nearly enough to kill him, but it does make for some discomfort, much like accidentally snorting a noseful of water once you dive inside a swimming pool. It burns but that's about it.

Coughing through his discomfort, I listen as sugar and Emery go back and forth over the severity of it all; and I briefly contemplate killing myself if it means that I won't have to deal with their nonsense. I honestly don't know if I can make it to sunrise like this and by the looks of it, neither will they.

Their bickering finally subsides, them agreeing only to question the man and nothing more. Of course Lorenzo detests it, that for no other reason than a hunch he’s guilty and lowkey he’s right. But then again, I'm not inserting myself into their madness. They’ve made it this far in this fucked up friend circle, they can make it the rest of the night.

“So lemme get this straight, you went upstairs to find cell signal and somehow found yourself next to a knife stricken Steph?”

“Lynn, ask your damn question.”

“How did you end up there and why?”

“My phone fell out of the window and I was looking for someone elses to use. It just so happened that Steph was the first person I found.”

“I think we should stop asking who may have done it, but why?” Emery proposed. “I feel like if we can figure out who had motive, we can narrow it down.”

“Well this is a pretty fucked up way to narrow things down. I'm literally tied to a chair.”

“That's because you choked me.”

“And I’ll do it again, you’ve been out of pocket since this whole thing started. How do we know you’re not the killer huh?

“Because I’m holding back from killing you now,” she shrieks.

Spitting, the thick glob lands directly on her chest, sugar all but emptying the contents of the pitcher onto his face; angrily clomping back into the kitchen to no doubt fill it again, but not before slapping him across the cheek.

Wet and stinging, that's quite the combination. I fear this has gone on long enough and it's only escalating. As much as I wanted to stay out of it, I think I better intervene.

Following sugar into the kitchen, I try to talk her out of this crazed state, her dazed pupils letting me know that she’s too far gone for reason. Pushing past me, she heads back into the living room where we see Emery struggling to untie the knots off Lorenzo, his violent coughing trying to dislodge the water that seeped into his lungs.

“WHAT ARE YOU DOING?”

“The hell does it look like I'm doing Lynn, this is mad and it needs to stop now.”

“Not until I get some answers.”

“People who talk, talk after their first contact with water,” I bargained. “And he’s not talking.”

“All that means is we have to get him talking then.”

“OR, it means he didn’t do it. You pour a bucket of water over someone’s nose and they’ll tell you whatever you want to hear if it means you’ll stop.”

“And yet you did it anyway,” she glared.

“There was a time where I would’ve died for all of you. I found a family in you guys and it filled a void I didn’t even know I had. And in one night, one measly fucking night I lose it all,” Lorenzo whimpered. “My best friend gets murdered without us ever properly mending things between us. I had to watch the love of my life die in my arms. And now, my other friend is actively trying to kill me, disregarding our decade long friendship all in the name of anger.

“Lorenzo, you did this to yourself!”

“LYNN, how fucking cruel can you be?”

“It’s alright Em, I’ve been known to be a bit of an asshole, though I’d like to think I meant well,” he bitterly chuckled, snot trickling down his nose. “Do me a favor and survive this fucked up night, cause God only knows who Lynn will turn on next. Not to mention that fucker over there,” he says, head nodding toward me. “Ain't it a little odd how all of this starts happening the moment he shows up? Yet I'm the one you helped him strap down to a chair. They ask what would you do for a klondike bar, but you better start asking what would Lynn do for a piece of dick, cause apparently it’s kill for it.”

“Lorenzo, I'm actually on your side. The only reason you’re even tied to that chair is because you attacked two people in this room,” I defended.

“And what's the reason I'm being waterboarded huh? Who weaseled that thought in her mind? You say you fight for your country? Motherfucker you can't even fight for the people in this room, but you like what’s happening huh?

“Not at all man.”

“We get it, I'm a dumb hoe, but you’re about to be a dead one if you don’t fess up.”

“And then what? You’ll let me go free?”

“Jason, please help me untie him,” Emery pleaded.

“Em don’t you fucking dare.”

Lunging toward her, hands get tangled into hair and nails get scratched into skin before I can get between them. It takes more strength than I care to give to hold Emery back, both she and sugar throwing around insults.

“Lynn I swear, you’re more trouble than you’re worth,” Lorenzo taunted. “YOU ARE THE CUM SHOT YOUR MOTHER SHOULDVE SWALLOWED. It would’ve saved your dad a lifetime of headaches and your mother the embarassm-“

Lorenzo’s words get cut off by the splashing of water, his gurgling noises buried under the guzzling of the pitcher. Emery goes wild, hitting my chest repeatedly and I toss her to the ground, jetting over to the scene behind me. Slapping the pitcher from Lynn’s hands, it's on the verge of empty, nothing but a trickle left inside as it splatters to the floor.

Lorenzo’s body furiously thrashes around, his chest caved in and head hung over with water spluttering from his mouth in an attempt to rid it from his body.

“Shit, Lynnley what the fuck did you do,” I screamed.

Emery is struggling to undo the knots, but all she’s doing is pulling them tighter together. I race over and lean the chair forward, hoping for gravity to expel some of the water from his airway, his body jerking about minorly.

“Why are you just standing there, find something to cut him loose.”

Scrambling into the kitchen, I hear dishes clinking and slamming together before Lynn comes running out with a knife, slicing through the cloth as best she can. The kitchen towel, since it was the thickest, took the longest and by the time we got him out the chair and on the floor, his fits has ceased.

Getting into position, I lock my hands together and press down on his chest, 30 times just like we did in training.

“Emery, once I count to 30 I need you to tip his head back and blow two big breaths into his mouth okay.”

“And what do I do?”

“Stay the fuck over there, I doubt he’d want your help at this point,” Emery yelled.

We do five sets of 30 compressions. The CPR forces out some of the water but Lorenzo is still unconscious.

“Why isn’t it working?” Emery wails.

“Em-“

“Why are you stopping, keep going.”

“Stop.”

Pushing against my chest, Emery restarts CPR.

“The lungs are about 9 inches in height, that's a little under a foot.”

“Nobody cares, just fucking help me.”

“The pitcher that Lynn poured over his face looked to be about 64 ounces and she did it twice. That was enough water to fill his lungs three times over.”

“We can do it, I know we can,” she croaked.

“There's no amount of CPR that can expel that much water. And his lungs are so heavy they’re actively swelling as we speak.”

“We won’t know unless we try Jason, you get the mouth and I’ll get the chest.”

“Blowing air into his already expanding lungs won't help Emery.”

“Am I supposed to just watch him die then?” she chided. “Isn’t there a way to drain it?”

“I'm no doctor and neither do we have the tools or the sterile space to do that.”

“Fuck a sterile space!”

“Not only would you infect him but stabbing anything in his chest to ‘drain it’ will only make him bleed out. We would need a very specific and precise needle.”

“No, we can do it,” she answered, starting the compressions again.

The splattering of liquids on the floor lets me know that Lynn has just emptied the contents of her stomach, but I'm in no mood to comfort.

“The body works in 3’s. Three days without water, three weeks without food, and three minutes without air. It’s been about seven now.”

“Shut up.”

“Lorenzo’s lungs are so heavy they’ve probably detached from his windpipe. That, coupled with no oxygen to his brain…at least he was unconscious before it happened.

“Jason either you help me or you leave,” Emery threatened, fat teardrops rolling down her face in droves.

There’s five stages of grief and they’re at the first one. Back against the furniture, I hold my head in my hands, listening to sugars light whimpers and Emery's ragged breathing.

She tires herself out with compressions, fists flying to his chest, pleading for him to wake up. Hands clutched over her ears, sugar rocks back and forth, mumbling out apologies, expletives, and frustrations; guilt no doubt eating her alive.

Hands dropping to my pocket, I rummage around for anything I can chew on, ready to get out of here and never see these people again. Fingers slipping free with the peppermint goodness, I unwrap it and pop it in my mouth.

Some minutes pass by, how many I don't know and the night grows quiet. As tragic as it’s been for everyone, this minute's peace brings about a small sense of tranquility. There’s the occasional sniffle and I watch as the sky transitions from pitch black to a pale pink, the telltale sign of the sun about to rise.

“At least his parents will be home soon right?” sugar questions.

“Yep, right in time enough to see their only son sprawled out on the floor and his friends scattered across the property. So much for the new owners, their home just turned into a crime scene.”

“Do you have any more gum?” Emery asked, voice sore from crying.

Tossing it in her direction, she catches it, face upturned once she removes the wrapper.

“Eww, Jason what the fuck, who the hell buys brown gum? What kind of flavor even is this?”

“It's peppermint,” I answered, popping a bubble.

“Still weird, I haven’t seen this shit since-“

The words die on her tongue. She looks up to me, revelation fresh on her features, which slowly etches into panic, as a sinister grin makes its way onto mine.

#Emmy Writes #Emmy Tries #Halloween Kills #Halloween Series #Halloween #Hills and Valleys #Original Story and Characters #Horror #the big fucking reveal #did you guess it right?#have you known all along?#tell me your thoughts

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nysscientiafic · 2 months ago

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a little Wyllstarion snippet

“Would you sit with me?” He tosses it over his shoulder, casual as you please. Given the circumstances, Astarion can hardly deny him.

Which is how he comes to be sitting, hands folded uselessly in his lap, as Wyll washes blood and filth and monster slime from their clothes. It’s almost meditative, the swirl and scrub and slosh of it all. Astarion takes mental notes: garments to mend; garments to bicker with Wyll about throwing out (before they’ll compromise by turning them into bandages and wash rags).

Into the rhythmic quiet of the laundering, Wyll says, “I don’t imagine you would’ve heard many of the stories.”

Inexplicably, Astarion has to fight against the impulse to tense up. He doesn’t answer.

But Wyll must not expect a reply, because he continues: “The Blade was a more popular tale—well, on the Frontiers.” A tentative sort of half-laugh; bashful, maybe. “But the reputation was that he traveled alone.”

This is something Wyll does, sometimes: talk as though the Blade is some other person. Separate. Astarion hasn’t divined exactly what it means, just yet.

He can’t see Wyll’s face, but it’s easier to just listen, sitting side by side this way. Letting the hills and valleys of Wyll’s confident oration surround him.

“I told people that the solitude was to pursue quarry; travel lighter, move faster,” Wyll says. “But the truth was—sharing camps with anyone else drove me half mad. I would lie awake all hours, barely able to close my eyes, much less get any rest.”

Astarion stops fidgeting with his nails, turns to take in Wyll’s shape leaned over the washtub. He attempts a neutral tone as he prompts, “Would you?”

Maybe not neutral enough, because Wyll smiles wryly. “I would. I was terrified Mizora would show up—reveal my pact to some bystander; terrorize some poor innocents.”

He slows his work. His hands are probably pruning in the water. “I became something of a hermit, over those seven years,” he muses.

Astarion licks his lips. He feels terribly twitchy, just then, at the idea of Wyll finishing all the washing by himself.

He rises, restless. Clean clothes are slung over the side of the tub; it’s simple enough to busy himself with pinning them to the line. Wyll never pays any mind to which pieces are delicate enough that they need more pins for extra support, so this arrangement is for the best, really.

Even so. Wyll catches his eye—gives him a soft smile that makes him feel like his chest is collapsing.

Then he shakes himself, returns to his story.

“I’m not sure what brought that to mind, exactly,” he says, as though it was some bland anecdote and not a rare glimpse behind his implacable facade. “Just that—I sympathize with having something that’s yours taken away from you, I suppose. In some small way.”

Astarion stills.

He forces himself to finish with hanging up Wyll’s shirt before turning to face the man. “Wyll. You’re telling me that rancid bitch made you afraid to sleep.” His muscles are taut, fingers itching for a blade. What he wouldn’t give to cut Mizora into strips. “Don’t you dare ‘some small way’ about that.”

From his seat near the wash, Wyll’s eyes are wide and his lips parted—caught off guard by Astarion’s vehemence. “I only meant—”

“I know what you meant,” Astarion snaps. “You deserved better.”

Entirely on impulse, he crosses to kneel beside Wyll, one leg folded under himself so he can lean in close. He cups his fingers under Wyll’s stubbled jaw.

“You still deserve better,” he insists, and his voice comes out—oddly rough.

Wyll’s flaming eye is very bright and very round as he stares back at Astarion.

“She visited me at our camp,” he admits—confessional, like it’s a sin of his own. “In the night, sometimes. When everyone was in their own tents.”

“I wish I’d caught her and torn out her throat.” Astarion means every word.

“I wish we’d gone to that clothier,” Wyll replies, non sequitur. “I wish I’d bought out the whole store for you.”

He’s referencing the last town they visited. Astarion didn’t even know Wyll had spotted him eyeing the couturier’s windows.

He surges forward. Wyll meets him halfway.

Astarion would never admit it, but—it’s still a shock, to have the beautiful, pure-hearted Wyll Ravengard want a creature like himself for affection. For sweetness. Wyll kisses him so delicately: not like he is breakable, but like he is detailed. Intricate.

Complicated and worth learning.

His tongue slips into Astarion’s mouth, slick and exploring. Not conquering but curious—as though Astarion is something to taste, not just to fuck.

Warm brown hands enfold Astarion—one lighting on his neck, the other curving on his waist—and this time, his touch feels more than welcome. His hold is mooring; a steadying brace against wild winds and tides. Astarion thrills in the circle of his arms.

And pulls back to nip at his lower lip.

Wyll is welcome to revel in as much saccharine romance as he can stomach; it does nothing to quell Astarion’s rising hunger.

He receives a deliciously shuddering gasp for the rough treatment. A predatory appetite in Astarion’s belly stirs—something entirely separate from vampirism.

“You’re too good to me, lover,” he purrs, sliding the words right into Wyll’s sweet rounded ear.

Wyll’s rumbling laugh tapers into breathlessness. “Impossible.”

#this is the 'for fun' wip i've been working on as a break from my loooong wip for these two #it literally starts with them talking about astarion's underwear. because why wouldn't it #i got stuck for awhile on how much Bad Headspace to include as the real spice was getting started #but i think we're through that and now it's just about writing the smut in earnest #anyway enjoy these two being weird about how they show affection to each other #nyssa writes #gate fic tag

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mybeautifulchristianjourney · 6 months ago

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The LORD Judges the Nations

1 For, behold, in those days, and in that time, when I shall bring again the captivity of Judah and Jerusalem,

2 I will also gather all nations, and will bring them down into the valley of Jehoshaphat, and will plead with them there for my people and for my heritage Israel, whom they have scattered among the nations, and parted my land.

3 And they have cast lots for my people; and have given a boy for an harlot, and sold a girl for wine, that they might drink.

4 Yea, and what have ye to do with me, O Tyre, and Zidon, and all the coasts of Palestine? will ye render me a recompence? and if ye recompense me, swiftly and speedily will I return your recompence upon your own head;

5 Because ye have taken my silver and my gold, and have carried into your temples my goodly pleasant things:

6 The children also of Judah and the children of Jerusalem have ye sold unto the Grecians, that ye might remove them far from their border.

7 Behold, I will raise them out of the place whither ye have sold them, and will return your recompence upon your own head:

8 And I will sell your sons and your daughters into the hand of the children of Judah, and they shall sell them to the Sabeans, to a people far off: for the Lord hath spoken it.

9 Proclaim ye this among the Gentiles; Prepare war, wake up the mighty men, let all the men of war draw near; let them come up:

10 Beat your plowshares into swords and your pruninghooks into spears: let the weak say, I am strong.

11 Assemble yourselves, and come, all ye heathen, and gather yourselves together round about: thither cause thy mighty ones to come down, O Lord.

12 Let the heathen be wakened, and come up to the valley of Jehoshaphat: for there will I sit to judge all the heathen round about.

13 Put ye in the sickle, for the harvest is ripe: come, get you down; for the press is full, the fats overflow; for their wickedness is great.

14 Multitudes, multitudes in the valley of decision: for the day of the Lord is near in the valley of decision.

15 The sun and the moon shall be darkened, and the stars shall withdraw their shining.

16 The Lord also shall roar out of Zion, and utter his voice from Jerusalem; and the heavens and the earth shall shake: but the Lord will be the hope of his people, and the strength of the children of Israel.

17 So shall ye know that I am the Lord your God dwelling in Zion, my holy mountain: then shall Jerusalem be holy, and there shall no strangers pass through her any more.

18 And it shall come to pass in that day, that the mountains shall drop down new wine, and the hills shall flow with milk, and all the rivers of Judah shall flow with waters, and a fountain shall come forth out of the house of the Lord, and shall water the valley of Shittim.

19 Egypt shall be a desolation, and Edom shall be a desolate wilderness, for the violence against the children of Judah, because they have shed innocent blood in their land.

20 But Judah shall dwell for ever, and Jerusalem from generation to generation.

21 For I will cleanse their blood that I have not cleansed: for the Lord dwelleth in Zion. — Joel 3 | King James Version (KJV) The King James Version Bible is in the public domain. Cross References: Exodus 3:8; Exodus 6:12; 2 Kings 12:18; Job 1:15; Job 6:27; Psalm 7:6; Psalm 61:3; Psalm 85:1; Isaiah 2:4; Isaiah 4:4; Isaiah 8:9-10; Isaiah 11:14; Isaiah 13:3-4; Isaiah 43:5-6; Isaiah 66:16; Ezekiel 27:13; Ezekiel 37:25; Joel 2:10; Amos 9:15; Matthew 11:21; Matthew 24:29; Mark 4:29; Revelation 6:12; Revelation 8:12; Revelation 14:14-15; Revelation 14:18,19 and 20, Revelation 19:15

#Lord #judgment #nations #Joel 3 #Book of Joel #Old Testament #KJV #King James Version Bible

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capnjaket · 1 year ago

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The Opposite of Lost - Chapter One

The Opposite of Lost

Pairing: Josh Kiszka x Female OC

a/n: So this is my first fic ever, and I’m super nervous to post but here goes :) It’s set in highschool and will be nothing more than fluff, I’m sorry if that upsets you. Although I love and respect our incredible smut writers, I am unfortunately not one of them :( Anyway, back to the story. The premise is ‘new girl with secrets meets sweet boy’ - very sappy and overdone but whatever. If you like John Denver, I can promise great things for you in this fic ;) This story is a complete slow burn told mostly by Josh’s pov after the first chapter. Also, I’m Aussie so if I get anything wrong to do with American slang, school or spelling please forgive me! I hope you enjoy :)

We will reach a bit of domestic abuse in a few chapters so please be cautious!

Word Count: 4.5k

Chapter One

☾ ⋆･ﾟ:⋆ Joshua

I caught sight of a pair of dungarees ahead in the trail, and watched carefully as she walked barefoot towards us. I looked to the ground for a moment while she came close, not wanting to stare, though I turned my head to her as she passed with a shy smile.

“I swear she’s always here when we are,” I whispered to Jake once she was out of earshot. “It’s almost like she’s following us.”

“I guess.” Jake said absentmindedly, continuing up the hill. But I turned to watch her for a moment, squinting to see her track off the side of the trail and disappear into the woods. My sudden urge to follow her was interrupted by Jake looking back from a ways in front, “Someone in love over here?” At that, I ran back uphill to shove my brother.

We saw her a bunch that week, though I seemed to be the only one to notice the way she was always going off the trails, or how she would be sitting on a boulder on the next hill over when we reached the summit of our usual trail.

I had finally convinced my brothers to explore beyond the trails, and we’d decided to go into the valley that was surrounded by a loop hiking track so we’d be able to find our way out easily. As we reached the ridge, I spotted a clearing around the middle of the valley along the riverbed.

“That’s gotta be our goal,” Sam said, pointing exactly where I was looking. We all grinned in agreement before setting off with a joyful huff.

*❀。• ₊°。Rosemary

Shedding my overalls and crop top, I plunged into the chilly river water in my bikini. I swam a little around the river pool and ended up wading right to the small waterfall where I sat on my special little rock, just as I had everyday since I moved here. It was so perfect here, the waterfall singing its everlasting song while I sat in the sun, just warm enough to tolerate the sprinkle of water from the waterfall. The wash of sound was able to fade out the distant calls and laughter I heard earlier, presumably from the three boys I passed once again today.

I furrowed my brows as that laughter seemed to come back, and upon realisation, my head snapped across to those very boys peeking through the tree line. “Woah,” The tallest said, standing still at the side of the river, far from the waterline, “Guess we’re not the first to find this place after all Jake.” Concerned and confused looks plastered their faces. “Should we go up to her? Maybe we should leave..” he asked.

“Dude no! I didn’t hike all this way for nothing!” ‘Jake’ said

“Well what do we say?” The first retorted.

“It’s not like we have to ask permission!” I chuckled at their bickering.

“It kinda feels like we do… she did find it fi—”

“Are you boys going to swim or did you just plan on standing there all day?” I yelled, putting them out of their misery. I took a good look at the three, the first, a long haired boy with his shirt buttoned so low it seemed to have no purpose; the second, a lankier tall one that looked younger in the face than the other two, and the last, with similar features to the first, but with short curly hair, who I hadn’t seen look away from me the second he entered the clearing. Nor had he uttered a single word to the other two. He was grinning at my call; enough, in fact, to show his dimples, while the others looked at me in shock. Cute I thought.

☾ ⋆･ﾟ:⋆ Joshua

I was in awe from the moment I left the trees. I don’t think I have seen a more beautiful scene in my entire life. The glistening water was beautiful. The waterfall across the rocks was beautiful. And she was beautiful. She was bronzed by the sun, brown hair shiny and slick as she sat on a rock, revealing her soft face, spare of makeup. She looked so natural, one with the gorgeous world around her.

She started swimming over towards us as we stripped to our shorts and started getting in.

“Nice spot you’ve got here.” Jake said, slipping into the water.

“Why thank you! And who may you be my trespassing friends?” She said with a smile.

“I’m Jake.”

“And I’m his bro Sam!” Sam said as he jumped into the water straight on top of Jake.

“I’m Rose.” She said, laughing as they continued brawl. “And you are?” She turned to look up at me with her hand out to shake.

“Jo—” Just as I took her hand she tightened the grip and yanked me into the water. I rose to the surface in shock, but when I looked at her I couldn’t help smile at her giggling. “Josh. Joshua Michael Kizska.” I said finally after she calmed down a bit.

“Well in that case I’m Rosemary June Finch. Pleased to meet you Joshua.” Rosemary replied.

“And you Rosemary.” I returned. We held a beat of eye contact, the moment softened by our smiling eyes.

“Come with me, I’ll show you guys the jumping spot!” She widened her grin as she cocked her head toward the waterfall before swimming over to the edge. I looked into blank space for a moment as she dipped beneath the water until my vision was occupied by Jake, who had a smirk plastered on his face as he looked at me, shaking his head.

After we’d each had our share of jumping off the small waterfall cliff and swimming around, we settled on the rocks to bathe in the afternoon sun.

“You must be new in town Rosemary, I’ve never seen you before. And you look around our age?” I started.

“Yeah, I moved here at the start of summer break, and I’m turning eighteen this year.” She replied.

“I can’t believe we’ve been hiking here for our entire lives and never found this place, and you’ve been here for literally two months and you seem to know the place like the back of your hand.” Jake said, furrowing his brows.

“About time you come off-the-beaten-track then.” Rosemary laughed.

“So are you in like, school or something?” Sam questioned.

“Yeah I’ll be in senior year at Frankenmuth High school this year.”

I sat straight upright from laying flat on the rock. “No way we’re in senior year there too!” I said, motioning to Jake and I.

“You’ll have to show me the ropes then.” Rosemary said with a warm smile.

We each rambled on about the high school experience for a while, trying to warn Rosemary about some of the teachers and students until we were satisfied that she wouldn't die on her first day. Then, we all laid on our backs, listening to the waterfall and the afternoon wind in the trees.

“I gotta tell you Rose, it’s pretty brave to come out here alone and all,” Jake said after a while.

“Oh, I didn’t come alone, don't worry! I brought Jack with me.” She replied, a mischievous smile growing on her face as she turned to shuffle through her bag as everyone sat up.

“Who’s Jack?” Sam said, as we all started looking around for some other person while she pulled out something from her bag.

“Captain Jack!” I turned to see her holding a small hunting knife, removing it from its sheath. A chorus of ‘woah’s and shocked huffs erupted as us boys leaned back a little. “He’ll get me out of trouble. Haven’t had to use him yet, I don’t think I ever will though.” She said as she twirled the thing in her hand, before tossing with a spin and catching it skilfully.

“Any particular reason you didn’t feel like using it on us?” I asked.

“I’ve seen you all heaps along the trails. I know you brawl, but none of you would hurt a fly.” She laughed, placing it back into her bag. We all smiled, seemingly glad to have that thing out of sight. “I think we’d better get moving if you guys want to get before dark. I’ll show you my path back.” We all agreed, putting on our clothes over our mostly dry swimwear before setting off up the hill, following Rosemary’s lead. She was quite mesmerising to watch; bare feet treading carefully as she dragged her hands on some of the leaves and tree stumps she passed. Her eyes were focused, looking ahead for the familiar landmarks that told her she was going the right way, and sweetly, she would often look back with a tiny, upturned lip and bright widened eyes to check that we were all following all right. Once we’d reached the main trail to the carpark she hung back, letting my brothers walk in front, leaving me to naturally fall in step with her.

After a little while of silence, I finally built up the courage to speak. “You should come walk with us next time we’re all around. It’s nice to have some different company for a change. You’re cool.”

“I think you’re cool too, and I will definitely see you all again. I’m here most days, so we’re bound to see each other at some point… but I can give you my number if you want to actually set up a time and place?” She said, motioning to her bag.

“Sure. But my phone’s in the car, can I give you mine instead?” She nodded, reaching around and pulling out an old flip phone.

“I know it’s old, but I don’t really need it for anything but texts or calls you know? If it ain’t broke!” She explained while I put in my number and name as ‘Joshua’ and texted ‘:)’ to my phone.

“No I think it’s great,” I said, passing the phone back. “I don’t even know where my phone is half the time… they’re just soul sucking little machines you know, I don't what it near me.” She smiled as I gestured wildly in the air to express my disdain.

“Exactly!” She laughed.

“Anyway, you’ll have to show us some other cool spots around here off-trail. I’m sure you’ve found some. That is, if you’re willing to share.” I pouted a little as I spoke, jokingly.

“I can and I will. Their beauty is too beautiful not to share. Besides, they’ve been hidden long enough, and I’m sure they are sick of me.” She turned to look me in the eye.

“Trees can’t get sick of you!” I said with a furrowed brow and a lopsided smile. How could anyone get sick of you?

“Look around Joshua, Everything’s living! Maybe they have hearts and minds and souls too.” She said, admiring the nature around her with a concerned look before our eyes connected once again. Then, we just continued walking happily. I adored the way she viewed the world.

“See ya rose!” Sam waved as we reached the car park.

“Nice meeting you. Until next time.” Jake saluted.

I smiled. “I’m glad we met Rosemary. I’ll see you soon.”

“Bye Sam! Bye Jake!” She yelled to the others. “Bye Joshua. I’m glad I met you too.” And at that we both grinned before parting ways.

☾ ⋆*･ﾟ:⋆ Joshua

I decided not to text her that night. As much as I was excited to see her again and make plans, I didn’t want to freak her out. I had a feeling it would happen naturally. And it did. A couple of days later, we went out late one afternoon once Jake finished work at the record store. I noticed her car in the parking lot as we pulled in. We walked one of the shorter tracks since it was pretty late, and as we reached the summit of the track, I felt a bit discouraged that we would find her. We looked around at the view for a while, enjoying the way the wind was a bit stronger and cooler up where the clearing for the summit was. I felt deflated as I couldn’t see her anywhere around us, but just as we started to leave, I felt my phone ring in my pocket. I took it out - it was Rosemary.

“Rosemary?” I said as I pulled the phone to my ear, hoping I was loud enough that my brothers would figure out what was going on.

“Nine o’clock” She said.

“What?”

“Check your nine Joshua.” Rosemary chuckled. I turned around to my left, darting my eyes across the valley and back down the track a bit, but I couldn’t see anything. At my sudden change of direction, the boys were looking too. “Now look up.”

And there she was. Sitting on a high branch of a tree about thirty yards along the path, waving straight at us. We had walked straight underneath her not five minutes ago. She had her camera out, snapping a photo of our shocked faces staring up at her. Rosemary wore her signature blue-jean overalls today along with a white strapless top, she was leaning against the trunk with one leg propped up and the other hanging down.

“You are wild Rosemary June.” I yelled as we ran to her.

“Well I’ll try to be rabid next time!” She said between fits of laughter, carefully climbing down the tree to meet us. “You should have seen your faces!”

“Yeah yeah,” Jake rolled his eyes, “Should we go sit on magnet rock? I think we’ve got time.”

‘“Sure.” “Yep.” “Sounds good!”’ We all replied.

We walked for about ten minutes until we reached the rounded-horseshoe shaped boulder, sitting down in the bowl of it like a couch.

“Explored anywhere else in Frankenmuth so far Rose?” Jake asked as he laid back on the warm surface.

“Nothing past the grocery store to be honest.” She said, “I can’t seem to stop coming here!”

“Then I think we should show you around a bit. Starting Saturday.” Jake stated.

“If you’re free.” I added.

“That I am!” She smiled, “What’s the plan then?”

“Well, we’re playing at the old pub at seven, so If your parents allowed it, we thought you might like to come and watch. Thats one spot in town crossed off the list!” I said.

“Excuse me, if you’re playing pool at a bar I would certainly be playing too, not watching!” She said, eyeing each of us as we tried to conceal our laughter. “What’s so funny? I’ll have you know I have a lot of pool experience.”

“It’s not pool we’re playing Rose, it’s music. We’re in a band.” Jake spoke carefully as we all searched her eyes for some sort of dismissive thought. But her eyes lit up instead.

“Really?” we nodded. “That’s so cool! What kind of music do you play?”

“You’ll have to find out on Saturday!” I announced.

“What about the instruments? Can't you at least tell me that?”

“Mmm.. now that you mention it, I think we'll keep that one a surprise too.” I replied.

She looked at me with this pouty smile and low-lidded eyes that told me she didn’t mind our bickering.

❀。• *₊°。Rosemary

I walked into the old bar expecting to see the usual Saturday-night crowd for a place like this, but I was shocked instead to see a very large gathering of people, filling the space and favouring the far right corner where I could see a small stage. Wow, okay. These guys must be good. The whole town was basically here, and I was suddenly feeling a bit strange about knowing them. Nonetheless, I ordered a mule from the bar and watched from the only free stool as they started setting up. To my surprise the bartender didn’t mix a virgin mule, he gave me a real one - but I didn’t say anything. Each of the boys were lit up with excitement, and it was wonderful watching them focus on their gear and talking to one another — they were in their element. There was a boy I didn’t know sitting behind the drum kit, which was where I expected Sam to be, but when Sam slid the strap of a bass over his head, it made sense. Still, I wasn’t expecting a four-piece. So as Jake grabbed the electric guitar from behind him, I was shocked to see Josh walk up to the mic stand, twisting a few knobs while looking at the crowd.

He finally met my eyes after a while of looking around and gave me the widest grin I’d seen from him yet. I shot one back with a small wave and he just winked. I was completely giddy to hear them perform now, he was so confident and happy.

☾ ⋆*･ﾟ:⋆ Joshua

I’d never been this nervous for a performance before. I told myself it was because of a large crowd, but once I spotted Rosemary sitting at the bar, I fatefully accepted the fact it was her making me nervous. She was wearing a white mini tee with a patterned vest overtop, and blue jeans that flared just enough at her boots. She was so cool. What if she doesn’t like it? I thought.

That question shuffled aside the longer I stared at her, because I was excited to perform for her, and because she too looked excited — and… maybe a bit nervous? I sent her a wink to be sure while I finished up fiddling with my mic.

❀。• *₊°。Rosemary

I continued to watch Josh as he turned and put his hand on Jake’s shoulder to whisper something in his ear. Jake looked up with surprise and immediately found me and waved. Sam saw him looking and sent me rock horns as they all got into their places.

The opening riff of ‘Layla’ by Derek and the Dominoes played and I watched as the room came alive. Jake and Sam were shredding it, the drummer was bringing the energy and pounding a beat I could feel in my heart, and Josh — His voice was just something to behold. As a whole they were completely captivating, each born to be onstage and radiating their love in this form. Mid way through the song, Sam left his Bass and sat at the keyboard and started playing the piano section of the song, which they all quietly joined in on to create a vamp below Josh’s speaking.

“Welcome ladies and gentlemen to our show tonight, it’s great to be here with you and to bring you love, peace, and music, I’m Josh, behind me here is Danny,” He said, motioning to the boys, “Up here is Sam, and Jake. We’ll be playing some you know, and some we’ve written, and we hope you enjoy. We are Greta Van Fleet.” He spoke clearly but fast into the mic with barely a pause in the entire speech, and was finally interrupted by a strike of Jakes guitar just as he finished the word ‘fleet’.

“Hey, hey, mama, said the way you move,

Gonna make you sweat, gonna make you groove,”

Josh suddenly erupted into singing ‘Black Dog’ from Zeppelin IV. If I thought his voice was incredible before I didn’t even have the words to describe it now. Their set was thrilling, from Joplin to Cream, they had the 60s and 70s covered which the audience clearly appreciated. There was not a soul in the venue who wasn’t mouthing the words, singing along, bopping their heads or tapping their foot. They finished on an original which Josh introduced as ‘Safari song’. Josh hadn’t looked at me at all during their set until now, smiling into the lyrics of the song and making eye contact every now and then. I couldn’t help but smile back, and ‘Safari song’ was instantly my favourite song of the night.

“Thank you!” Josh yelled into the mic, eliciting a powerful applause peppered with shouts and whistles as the boys walked off stage. I decided to stay at the bar for a while and let them be, as they were bombarded by old friends and the like to congratulate them on their performance the second they were off the stage. The boys finally found their way to me after talking to basically every single person in the room. Josh immediately pulled me into a tight hug as soon as I stood.

“Hi” he whispered

“Hi” I giggled back. We pulled apart and I went on to hug his brothers and shook hands with their drummer, who introduced himself as Danny.

“You guys were amazing!” I exclaimed as we turned back to the bar for drinks.

“Really? It wasn’t too… I don’t know, old?” Josh asked, looking quite unsure.

“Are you kidding? I knew every word!” he raised his eyebrows, and the boys all looked at me.

“Even Safari song?” Josh broke out in a grin.

“You know what I mean. Play me some Zeppelin and I’m hooked.”

“Well we’re glad. We would have had to give up a really fantastic swimming hole if you didn’t like it.” Jake nudged me on the shoulder.

“You guys are weird.” I said, raising my glass and taking a sip to hide my smile.

The other boys ordered their soft drinks and mock-tails while Josh sat down next to me, eyeing my drink. “Whatcha got there Rosemary?” He said, grabbing the almost empty glass before I could stop him. He smirked cheekily, taking a sip. Josh’s face fell and his eyes almost bugged out of his head, looking back and forth from the drink to me. I slowly pushed a finger to my lips with a knowing glance, trying not to laugh. I folded as he chugged what was left in the glass, and we both laughed at ourselves, eliciting confused looks by the other boys.

“Hey can I get two more of these man?” I said to the bartender with all the confidence I could. Josh couldn’t hold himself together, looking away from the bar to hide his face. The bartender mixed the drinks and placed them in front of us.

“Only one more though, understand? Otherwise I'll tell your mother Kiszka.” He looked serious, but winked at us nonetheless.

“Let’s play pool!” Sam said, and we all followed.

“Get ready to have your ass beat, Jake!” I said.

“We’re not on the same team? Fine, then I get Danny.” Jake retorted.

“H-hhem - We come as a package deal.” Sam said, putting his arm around Danny.

“Ugh Fine.”

I turned to Josh. He was already grabbing us some cues, one of which he threw to me. “Joshua you better be good at this.”

“Have a little faith will ya?” he said, focusing on chalking his cue.

Jake set down the balls and the game began. We were collectively mediocre at playing, though Danny and I seemed to have the upper hand. Jake and Josh were all talk, yelling loudly or saying something right as the other would go to strike. And Sam was hopeless, spending half the time groaning with his head in his hands after aiming at literally nothing and barely hitting the cue ball.

Near the end, we realised we were pretty even, and anyone could win - and it suddenly became the most competitive game of pool I’ve ever played. Snarky comments and celebratory cheers were made play-by-play, and it felt like the world was going to end every time Josh or I missed.

It finally got to a point with one of each ball type left on the table, and it was my turn, meaning I could win the game if I sunk our striped ball. I took a swig of my drink, leaning down low on the table to investigate my options. Josh put his arm around me, coming down to my level to whisper in my ear.

“You got this Rosemary you can win it, I know you can. Are you gonna hit that left there and bounce it off the wall?” As serious as our faces were, I was giddily enjoying this soft moment up close with Josh. I could feel his breath on my neck.

“Yeah but I don’t know if I can do it.” I replied.

“Nah its easy you’ve got it” He stayed low as I moved my cue into position. The other boys were on the opposite end of the table, holding each other and bending down to our level as well. They looked terrified.

“Nervous Rose?” Jake yelled, making them all chuckle.

“Never.” I said, my eyes never leaving the ball. I could hear Josh laughing lightly into my shoulder at my smart-ass response as I took the shot.

It hit perfectly and our winning ball rolled right into the hole below the boys, their heads following it in amazement. They looked up at us in shock before crumbling, dragging their hands down their faces, hitting them on the table and angrily groaning in disappointment.

Josh and I turned and screamed at each other in joy and danced around wildly, then hugged a long, tight embrace. It was warm and unapologetic. Maybe it was the three drinks I had but this was the best hug I’d had in a long time.

Once everyone had settled down, we finished our drinks and decided to head out, so we all grabbed the kit from onstage and started loading it into the back of their van.

“Okay that's everything, we’ll walk you to your car Rose.” Oh shit. It was just then that I realised I really shouldn’t drive myself home. I stopped dead in my tracks and looked at Josh, and he seemed to have made the same realization. Jake looked at me with concern. “Do you want a lift home instead?” He asked.

I had to think for a moment - I knew I shouldn’t drive, but it was rude of me to ask for a lift home when as far as they were concerned, I didn’t need it. After a while I reluctantly nodded to Jake. We walked to their car and Jake started getting in the passenger seat, waiting for Josh to get into the driver's side.

“I can’t drive Jake I’m too tired.” He said as he rounded the truck to push Jake across the bench seat towards the wheel.

“Yeah, yeah,” Jake shoved Josh in the shoulder and got situated, starting the car. I tried to conceal my laugh as Josh glanced back at me.

I quietly gave directions as we drove through the town. Once we arrived on my street, I said “Here's fine,” making Jake pull up. I hopped out and stood at their open passenger window. “Thanks for a great night guys, can’t wait to hear you play again.” I said, smiling at everyone.

“Thanks for coming Rosemary.” Josh gave me a knowing glance with a bit of cheekiness to it.

“Bye Rose!”

“Bye!”

I hit the roof of the van before standing back to watch them drive off.

☾ ⋆*･ﾟ:⋆ Joshua

I watched in the side mirror as Rosemary walked down the street a bit; sitting down on the porch of one of the houses instead of going inside. Strange.

#josh kiszka #josh gvf #josh kiszka x reader #josh kiszka fic #josh kiszka gvf #danny wagner #jake kiszka #sam kiszka #josh kiszka x oc

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climbthemountain2020 · 9 months ago

Text

Hope of Spring Chapter 11

Find it here on Ao3 :)

For Chapter 10, go here!

Cassian showed up very early the next morning, though Tamlin and Penny were already up and outside warming up. He joined them on their regular workout circuit, and Penny wondered more than once as her sweat dripped into her eyes what she’d done in her previous life to deserve this sort of torture.

She kept up as well as could be expected, and all but collapsed as they took a quick break to drink water. She was laying on the ground looking up at the clouds when Cassian came to sit beside them.

“How’s Nesta?” She rolled and asked, excitedly. “Her story is the most beautiful thing I’ve ever read. It’s so hard for me to believe she’s an actual real person that exists here in this world. Is she coming to train with us at some point? I would love to meet her.” Cassian threw his head back and laughed.

“She’s going to be thrilled to know she has a fan club. I don’t know that anyone has ever been so excited to meet Nesta.” His laugh bellowed through the valley. “She’s great. It’s been a very good few years. I’m sure she’d love to meet you, especially since you seem to love a good book, and that’s her favorite determination of whether or not she likes someone.”

“Tell her if she ever wants to come to Spring, I can claim training in the form of a book club.” She decided she liked Cassian as he laughed again. He was exactly as she’d imagined him, and she hoped that they would have the easy sort of friendship going forward. Truthfully, Tamlin seemed to be most relaxed around him, too. She’d caught them more than once discussing the war bands and the fighting styles that they both preferred. Penny couldn’t help but think that it might be nice for Tamlin to make a friend, too.

Cassian stayed while she and Tamlin practiced hand-to-hand combat. He helpfully pointed out from an outside perspective where her weaknesses were so she could cover them. It was nice to have someone else looking in. After another hour of this, she was so tired she thought she might just collapse onto the grass and take a nap. Instead, Tamlin motioned to his back, and he helped to hoist her up to carry her into the house. They waved at Cassian as he flew off to check on any updates from Vassa and Jurian in the human lands, and Tamlin took Penny back inside the manor. Over lunch, which Penny inhaled, they decided she would go take a short nap while he worked through some more paperwork, then they could practice her shifting before dinner.

Tamlin insisted on carrying her up to her room and dumping her unceremoniously on the bed. Through her laughter, she shot out, “If I didn’t know any better, I would say you like tossing me around, you big brute.”

He let himself fall onto her on the bed, kissing her softly, sweetly, then nuzzling her neck. “Only for you,” he whispered into her ear, making chills erupt over her arms. He shot her a wink and a smile as he got up and made for the door, shutting it quietly behind him.

________________________

The sun had long since moved overhead once they made it back out to the hills to train her magic. They’d already been working on small things for an hour, and Penny was improving at miniscule alterations. When she tried anything more complex, however, the frustration spun her out of control and she’d shift without willing it. This was resulting in some catastrophic shifts where Tamlin was having to do his best to talk her down so she didn’t hurt herself or get stuck that way. He’d just finished trying to coax a tail off her backside when she huffed out a groan of frustration and slumped back to the ground.

“Ugh, Tam. Surely it didn’t take you this long to figure this out.” She pulled her hands over her face and rubbed her eyes. Not only was she bad at this, but every usage of the magic took energy from her which left her exhausted.

“It takes everyone a long time to figure out their powers. And anyone who tells you differently is lying.” He came to sit next to her. “You have to stop trying so hard. Focus on just one aspect and let the rest happen naturally. You’re making yourself panic.” His hand found hers in the grass and squeezed, and she felt that familiar crackle dance from where their fingers met up her arm. She loved this exchange of magic every time they touched, and she frequently wondered if he felt it too. It felt as though it sang in her very blood when he was around, like her magic felt his and wanted to respond.

Suddenly, an idea struck her.

“Tamlin, hold my hands and shift into your beast form.” He popped up beside her.

“What? Why?”

“Just do it. Trust me. Try to hold my hands as long as you can while you do it.” He stood and pulled her up, keeping her hands in his. She closed her eyes and tried to focus on how his magic felt touching hers. If she imagined it like she had with the manor, she could see the shift of his power touching her. A deep green mist, twirling in the dark of her mind, reaching out a hand to touch hers, a shapeless silver cloud that she somehow knew to be herself. She watched as the two swirled together while she felt for his magic in the void. The two mists seemed to connect where she imagined their hands were clasped in a ribbon that shined brightly gold. When his mist began to change, she grabbed hold of the feeling and tried to mimic it as closely as possible, making her own silver reverberate with a hum of power. She felt the shift go through her with a shiver, the golden ribbon between them undulating in the wave of magic.

When she opened her eyes, Tamlin was no longer in front of her holding her hands. Instead, she was met with antlers and the massive head of a wolf. She wasn’t frightened, however, because she immediately found his eyes–Tamlin’s beautiful green and gold eyes, which somehow appeared sharper than they’d ever seemed to her before. They were filled with so much adoration that she nearly lost her footing. It had worked.

She looked down and found paws where her feet might have been. Great, furry things with sharp claws jutting out of them. She wondered how similar to Tamlin she must appear, but before she could parade back into the manor to find a mirror and scare all the staff, Tamlin was nuzzling her. Since she was sentient in this form, he must be too. Suddenly, she heard his voice, though it was much deeper and rougher than she was used to.

“You look beautiful.”

Could beasts like this? She was definitely blushing. He chuffed in a way that told her he could absolutely tell, then arced his head towards the woods and took off. She immediately took off after him, stumbling a bit as she got used to these new proportions.She was fast–absolutely flying through the trees so that they blurred into nothing beside her. She felt powerful. Every root and pebble and leaf scattered under her bounding leaps like they were nothing. All she cared about was Tamlin, in front of her, and her body tearing through the woods after his. She knew, somehow, even if she lost sight of him, that she’d find him. She could still feel the song between them, wrapping delicately around her heart and tugging her towards where she could be near him again.

Tamlin turned a quick left and she followed, crashing through the woods behind him into a clearing and tumbling over his body. They rolled through the grassy edges surrounding a pool until they came to a stop, her paws on his chest, breathing heavily.

“That was incredible.” She huffed out, eyes widening when she heard her own voice. They stood and shook off, and he changed back into her Tamlin with a flash of light before her eyes. Her Tamlin.

He walked to her, placing a hand on her neck. “Close your eyes, come back to me.” She did as he asked, focusing on those mists swirling together in such harmony, and when she opened her eyes again, could tell she was back in her body. He grinned at her like he couldn’t have been prouder, then abruptly lifted her into his arms.

She shrieked as he moved towards the water. “You better not throw me in that pool, Tamlin, I swear to–” He dumped her in the water, not pausing before throwing himself in behind her.

Penny surfaced with her hair over her face in a sopping sheet, sputtering. She rounded on him to tell him off, but he was gone.

“Tamlin?” She called, pushing the hair out of her eyes. She couldn’t see him anywhere. She whipped her head around the pool, scanning the banks and the waterfall on the other shore. “Tam?”

Suddenly, he burst from the water next to her, tackling her and taking her back down with him. Surfacing together, she couldn't help the laugh that exploded from her while she slapped his chest. “Are you always this absolutely ridiculous?”

“For you, Sunshine. Only you.”

“Oh, if the citizens of Spring could see their mighty High Lord now. A water nymph.” She splashed him as he laughed, pulling her closer.

Penny snaked a hand up his chest, touching him through the muslin fabric. The water dripped off his face, big silvery droplets that caught the sun. She traced the lining of his shirt up the column of his neck to his jaw, and he closed his eyes, breathing deeply.

“Thank you for this.”

“For what,” he murmured, opening his eyes.

“All of it. Allowing me to stay. Helping me. Making me smile.” His eyes traced her face like he was searching every piece of her for an answer to a question. When he spoke again, his voice was barely above a whisper.

“It scares me how much I care about you.” She leaned in to press a kiss to his collarbone and heard his sharp intake of breath.

“Why does it scare you?”

“The last time I cared, I ruined it all. Everything I thought was right, was wrong. I hurt everyone–I hurt myself. I am so scared if I let myself feel for you what I want to, that it will all fall apart again. I won’t be able to bear it.” Penny’s heart broke at his admission.

“You know I am not Feyre, correct?”

“Of course, Penny, I–” He began to object, assuming he’d offended her.

“Then please understand when I tell you, I am not leaving. There is nothing that could take me from you. Feyre was coming from a neglectful home. She needed time and therapy and love that you couldn’t give her. You also came from a home when love was not given to you in the way you deserved. It doesn’t mean that either of you are doomed to a life of hurt because your first attempt at a healthy adult relationship failed.” She leaned in again to press a kiss on the other collarbone.

“Tamlin, sometimes love doesn’t work. It doesn’t need to condemn you to a life alone. Feyre is happy now, isn’t she?” She felt him nod against her. “So why can’t you be, too?” She felt a breath shudder through his body and something like hope began to bloom, warm and bright, in her chest. “You are taking measures to be a better male. You are so far from the monster you believe yourself to be, or you wouldn't be so torn up about this. Why can’t you accept that you might deserve someone’s love?”

Penny heard the sob catch in his chest. She wound her arms beneath his and around his back, brushing soothingly up and down his spine.

“I care about you, Tam. Deeply. More than I've ever been able to bring myself to care for anyone. It scares me, too. But I trust you to catch me if I fall. If you want this, I want this, too.” She pulled back to look up into his eyes, tears flowing down his cheeks as he bowed his head to meet hers.

“I have never wanted anything more.” He whispered as he brushed his lips against hers so lightly it barely registered.

“Then kiss me, Tamlin. Show me that you’re mine.” And that was all it took.

Tamlin reached beneath her thighs and hauled Penny into his arms. Her legs went around him as though by reflex and her hands went up into his hair, tugging at the wet strands. He pulled at the back of her neck, opening her to kiss him more deeply, and when his tongue ran along the seam of her lips she opened for him with an almost soundless moan. He responded with a growl so deep in his chest she felt it reverberate against her, and she giggled into his mouth.

The kiss took on a renewed heat as he backed them to the stoney edge near the waterfall. He set her down gently on the ledge and pulled her to him so she was flush against his body. His lips fell to her neck as he nipped and kissed his way down the column of her throat.

“Fuck, Penny, you smell so good.” She whimpered as his teeth met her earlobe, and she arched into him causing him to exhale sharply against her ear and buck forward against her. Using her grip in his hair she hauled him to her lips once again and when his hands roamed up her thighs, she moaned into his mouth, pulling an echoing response from him. He grabbed her hips in a bruising grip and tugged her forward against him. She gasped, feeling him press against her. She was barely hanging on, and she knew she was about to ravage this man in an entire pond.

Tamlin drew back and took a breath, pressing his forehead to hers. “You have no idea how much I want you, but the first time we do this will not be in a pond.” She threw her head back and laughed, wrapping her arms around his neck and sliding off the rock.

“Very well, High Lord.” She giggled. “Let’s go home, then.” His smile lit up his face like the sun.

“Home it is.” And they began the walk back to manor together.

#a court of thorns and roses #acotar #tamlin #tamlin x oc #elucien #tamlin oc #feysand #gwynriel #tamdemption #tamlins hea #hope of spring

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