#here's hoping that i waited long enough that any have fucked off to other pastures

[jensownzoo]

First cucumber seedling up.

Now begins the vigilance.

[delivish]

𓃔𓃽

Little preview?? I guess of this extremely silly thing I'm working on.

Farm sim meets South Park meets magical realism monster-fucking nonsense. Sometimes you just want to write the most self-indulgent shit ever. Not sure?? If this will be posted anytime soon. Or at all, tbh >.>

𓃔𓃽

Stan shot out of bed five minutes before his alarm and dressed quickly in the pre-dawn dark. Winter had finally melted into the flowering embrace of Spring, but the weather hadn’t really caught up to the change in season yet, and these early April mornings were still cold enough to turn his breaths to fog before his face. The floorboards beneath his bare feet were chilly. Stan was too nervous to linger under the covers and hit snooze like he usually did, though, and for good reason. 

Mating season was in full swing, several of their young cows had reached maturity this year, and Stan had been chosen to get their most nervous and temperamental individuals ready for their first breeding. 

The ranch’s foreman had told him what an honor it was to be entrusted with a task of such importance—as if someone telling you that you ought to be proud was all it took to actually feel it. Stan had been anxious ever since he’d learned the news. 

Kenny had been here longer and had more hands-on experience, for one thing, but Stan was gentler. Or so they said. A ‘natural’ when it came to working with animals. Stan had grown up on a farm and worked with four-legged creatures all his life, but these weren’t just any animals; these were hucows. Stan had never actually seen one up close until he’d been hired here, but working with them had quickly become the highlight of his days. 

Stan sighed, pulling his beanie down over his dark hair. 

He would have been an idiot to turn down the assignment just because of a little imposter syndrome.

Dawn was just a hint of pink on the horizon. Stan ate a quick breakfast and headed out for the day, his boots crunching over the gravel-lined trail. Despite his hurry, Stan couldn’t help pausing to admire the way the light sparkled off the last of the snow lying in stubborn drifts beneath shady awnings. By this time next week, it would all be melted away. 

Stan turned his gaze toward the wide, open grazeland where the hucows not up for this year’s breeding had already been turned out to pasture. He could tell the cows and the bulls apart at a glance from the size and shape of their horns. The bulls were bigger and more obviously threatening, but a frightened cow could gore a man just as easily if he weren’t careful. They had drooping ears, long, expressive tails, and thickly furred haunches that supported a humanoid upper half. 

They really were beautiful creatures. Despite the early hour, there was an undeniable feeling of excitement in the air, a nervy sort of anticipation. It was as if the hucows could sense something was up.

Stan gulped. He could only hope the ranch foreman’s trust hadn't been misplaced.

The feeling only intensified as he neared the barn. To his surprise, Kenny was already waiting by the pens. He looked up as Stan walked in with the back of his hand pressed to his mouth to stifle his yawn. 

“Hey, dude.” 

“Morning,” Stan greeted. “You’re up early.” 

“I could say the same for you, man.” Kenny pressed a thermos into one hand and a worn clipboard into the other. Stan glanced rapidly between the two. 

“I already prepared the pens,” Kenny continued, stifling another yawn. Stan started. “And there’s coffee in the thermos. Only coffee,” he added, like he already knew Stan would ask. 

“Ken…” Stan began. “You didn’t have to do all that. Save some work for the rest of us, man.” 

“Yeah, well, jokes on you, dude. I left you all the hard stuff,” Kenny replied, flashing his signature gap-toothed grin. 

Stan shook his head. Kenny must have gotten up awfully early to get the pens ready and still have time to make coffee. It wasn’t any trifling task. Of course, Kenny would downplay it. But that was Kenny for you. Stan had never known someone who worked as hard or stood out as much as he did. The other ranch hands were all good old boys who’d been in programs like 4-H and Future Farmers of America, whereas Kenny had a slouchy stoner energy that reminded Stan of Shaggy from the Scooby gang. 

Kenny looked like an Old English Sheepdog, what with the way his sandy blond hair hung heavy around his face. He was short, lean, tattooed, and had a calm, soft-spoken demeanor that Stan had been convinced was the result of several fat bong rips a day, but nope, he was stone-cold sober; Kenny really was just that chill. Kenny never talked much about himself, but he gave off the impression of someone who’d lived a lot of life, drifted around like a tumbleweed, and always managed to find himself right where he was supposed to be. 

Stan popped the top off the thermos and gave the contents an experimental sniff. The earthy, toasty smell of coffee immediately filled his nostrils. Stan smiled. 

God bless Kenny. 

Stan took his coffee in mincing sips and turned his attention to the clipboard. This, he’d been expecting: the clipboard held a roster of which bulls were to be paired with which cows for the day. Stan skimmed the list, mentally checking off his approval, until he came to one pair in particular. The matched names made him arch a brow. 

“They put Eric with him?” 

"Eh? Oh," Kenny shrugged. “I mean, yeah. The foreman’s pretty sure they’ll get some good, strong calves out of it."

"But the first breeding? Don't you think it's a little..."

"I dunno, man. They're hucows,” Kenny replied, not quite dismissive but not too far from it. The energy of a man who was willing to entertain the conversation while simultaneously not quite knowing why they were even having it. “Eric spends half his time teasing him anyway.”

Stan couldn’t argue with that. 

Even so, it wasn’t a match he would have made—not for the young cow’s first breeding, anyway. Kyle was high-strung, even by bull standards: difficult to control and quick to turn to aggression.

But then again, Eric could be just as difficult, if in a slightly different way: a plump, pretty, mischievous cow who had a knack for riling up the others. 

Eric and Kyle had been antagonistic toward each other from the start, so much so that the owner had eventually ordered them to be separated. It had been impossible not to notice the interest they’d shown in the other, though, the way Eric bent to flash Kyle his glistening hindquarters, the way Kyle was always a little more aggressive and showy around the other bulls when Eric was around. 

If they hadn't been separated, they probably would have worked up to breeding with the other anyway, Stan reasoned as he helped Kenny lead the young cows into their assigned pens and strap them to their breeding benches. At least this way, Kyle and Eric could be supervised. They’d be much less likely to hurt each other. 

Hopefully. 

Stan squared his shoulders. Either way, it was his job to make sure their young hucows’ first breeding season went as smoothly as possible. 

Eric, apparently, hadn’t gotten the message. 

“Shh, whoa there,” Stan coaxed, cornering Eric in his stall, halter in hand. Eric’s big brown eyes darted left and right, his tail lashing out behind him.

Something was up, and he knew it. Eric’s ears were alert, the fur on his fluffy haunches puffed up. The hucow shook, pawing at the hay-lined floor, but that only made his fur stick up even more. Eric had never been particularly easy to halter, even on a good day, and the low, grunting moos and rattling breeding pens out in the barn had put him on high alert. 

“Eaaasy, c’mon now,” Stan murmured. He managed to slip Eric’s halter over his head and swiftly tighten the thick leather straps just below his doughy pink breasts before Eric could think to back out of it.

A needless precaution, perhaps, but Stan felt a lot better knowing Eric was secure before he let him out of his stall.

[nevereverlandboys]

Drunken in charge

A/N: So I already posted this on wattpad a while ago. I was busy with learning for my exam, but now I finally managed to edit everything so I can post it on tumblr for those who don't read in wattpad

If you want to get tagged for my oneshots DM me ❤

Pairing: Ouat Felix x Reader

Warnings: Smut, NSFW, fingering, oral, unprotected sex, consuming of alcohol, swearing, really unrealistic sex scene lol, unprotected sex

Summary: Felix is being left in charge for the camp while Pan is absent, so games are off along with every other game. What is there else to do than drink? The second in command uses this opportunity to finally get closer to the reader after being so distant for a long time.

word count: 9968

The Island was harsh and cruel to everyone in an unfair but equal way. Even though the lost boys lived free on Neverland, they still were ruled by the mischievous leader named Peter Pan. Each of them had their own suffering they would not mention to anyone, rather feel the pain alone and the loneliness followed them with every step. But if someone caught Y/N's eye the most, it was the quiet second in command, Felix. He always stayed close to his leader and would always follow his command. His cold facade never told her a single thought, making him special in his own way. He would leave the girl alone and only joined her on missions, but even then, the second in command would remain quiet. Pan on the other hand, tormented Y/N with thousands of useless tasks, while the lost boys worked on their own duties that seemed to make way more fun. No matter how hard she tried, Y/N would never fit in the group of lost boys, their name alone excluded her. None of them treated her fair, always left her out and acted like she was their servant. At first, the boys all seemed curious, and also a little intrigued about her appearance. They wondered why the shadow brought a girl to Neverland and if she would stay forever or just for a while. Their vicious behavior scared her off the first days, keeping her distance in a small tent. There was nothing special about Y/N, and she wondered why Pan brought her here from the beginning. Soon they boys learned that as well, treating her harshly like everybody else. They mocked her for being too weak, being too emotional,- they mocked her for not being a boy. After a while Y/N stopped asking questions and simply agreed to her new life. There were many good things to mention, nothing here was all bad. No one cared about her exploring the island during the day, at least if she did not go too far. If she wanted to cook for herself, there was no one in the way, and if she wanted to read in her tent, they would not enter- also because she was definitely sure Pan forbat it. The lost boy's feared and loved their leader at the same time, the way he let them live the free life they always wanted and not even seeing how dangerous it could be had convinced them. Y/N had distanced herself from them and their cruelty, rarely appeared to any big occasion and rather traveled along the river that ran it's way through the meadow and pastures. It was a surprise when one boy asked her one day to join a game, leaving her startled and unable to answer since no one ever really attempted to talk to the girl. It woke a piece of hope inside her, some of the younger boys already liked Y/N, yet, there was always something suspicious around the older ones.

"C'mon!" The thin boy yelled excitedly and waved his hands through the air, gesturing to follow him.

"This will be fun!"

Y/N avoided the demanding boy and tilted her head while her eyes wandered through the group before they stopped at the second in command, his eyes already burning on her skin when she detected him on his log, not far. His gaze made her nervous, uncomfortable and she questioned the decision to join the game. Something inside her shook the thought off, that Felix would approach her one day for some other reason than Pan made him, or that he would ask her to join a game.

"No…" Y/N answered nervously and looked back to the lost boy, trying to ignore Felix in the back. She did not trust that boy the slightest.

"I have to clean the kitchen." She  lied and dropped her gaze to the ground. The boy left as quickly as he came, not even trying to convince her further as if the interest was faked like everything else on this Island. After a while she sat alone in silence, watching the smaller boys play with sticks and some older ones preparing some meat and stickbread for the bonfire. The feeling of being watched did not let go. Y/N tried her best not to look suspicious and quickly let her eyes wander further when she found the guilty boy, Felix. 

Why is he still staring at me?

She never found out. The boy stayed exactly where he was and so did Y/N. He would constantly steal a glimpse and for a moment goosebumps spread all over her body, as butterflies rumbled in her stomach. A few days went on and she had catched the second in command staring at her over and over again. Whenever she looked at him, he quickly shifted his eyes somewhere in hope not to be catched. Sitting at the dining table she would catch him, when she did the laundry or cooked in the humble kitchen. The lost boy woke some curiosity inside the girl, the urgent need to know why he would always steal a glimpse, whenever she walked by. He never slipped a nasty comment, definitely strange compared to the other lost boys and their vivid temper. He never approached her or tried to keep up a conversation either. As soon as the sun went down, Pan appeared in front of Y/N's tent, calling her to come out and get some firewood. His second in command stood not far, leaning against the bark of a tree and chewing on a toothpick. He didn't need to wait for his leader's command, already knowing he had to join her. 

"Be quick." Pan ordered sternly, pressing his brows together before strutting back to the other boys. Her eyes instantly shifted over to the lanky, blonde boy, a smirk plastered on his pale face. If Pan knew that this was not a good idea? Felix turned on his heels and led the way through the trees uphill where the bushes covered the edges down to the abyss, not looking back once.

"C'mon, girlie." He said.

'Don't call me that!' She snapped back and paced up. The lost boy's camp disappeared on the ground, the higher Y/N followed the path before Felix stopped in front of a dark forest, the leaves swallowing every light before it could touch the ground. 

"Princess." Felix corrected cockily, watching her step between the trees. She started to blush and was unable to say something, so she decided to simply ignore the giant boy's nickname for her, no matter how flattering his words seemed. She tried to act tough, tougher than she actually was, in hope he would recognise it.

"How in the hell should we get wood in the dark?' Y/N mumbled as she stared into the pitch black.

"Are you scared?" Felix teased and gave her a smirk. His voice was deep and rough, unsettling but still going like honey through her ears. The girl scoffed at him and rolled her eyes, then led the way with firm steps, not even seeing the ground and suddenly tripping over into a mess of wood. 

"Fuck!" She hissed and held her hands to check the unbruised skin. The lost boy started to laugh darkly to himself, before he stepped closer. 

"This wood is full of chunks." Felix explained and bent down to pick up the wood. Y/N rose to her feet and grabbed some wood, not saying another word. Felix remained silent as well, heading with heavy back to the camp. After a while he stopped and turned, watched if she could catch up and continued when the girl was close enough. All the time she wanted to talk to him, using the moment all alone with him, but as she hurried to follow the second in command, no single idea for a conversation came to her mind. It was like someone wiped every thought away and replaced it with the heavy drumming of her heartbeat. As soon as she reached the clearing, Felix dropped the wood onto the ground and left them for the other boys to take care of it. Her chunks landed right next to his and she paced up to catch up with the gloomy second in command, when a tight grip on the girl's wrist stopped her. 

"Where do you think you're going?"

Y/N tilted her head and faced Dave, a tall chubby boy with messy brown hair, his eyes dark and soft like marbles. The lost boy looked like a bear, warm and welcoming, nevertheless it were his words that often scared her off. He only had nasty comments for Y/N, threats and if Pan wouldn't protect her for being a weak girl, the lost boy would probably harm her physically as well.

"The potatoes won't cook themselves!" Dave barked and pushed her harshly away before his eyes wandered over to the kitchen tent. Y/N bit her tongue to stop slipping a nasty comment, marched over to the humble kitchen and let out a growl when she saw the mess inside. 

"Are you fucking kidding me?" She whined as her eyes wandered over the dirty pots and Pan's, knives and forks along with every spoon. At least it was not stinking and disgusting, easy to wash, yet an avoidable effort if every boy would clean after themselves. But why should they? They had Y/N. Deciding to only clean the essential goods and shoving the other things aside, she opened a little basket with potatoes in it and placed them on the little counter. Like she expected, no one came to help her during the cooking, only one boy showed up to ask if she could hurry up. The same boy did not even thank her when she finally gave them the cooked potatoes half an hour later. The selfish behaviour of these boys was the thing Y/N hated most, more reason to focus on the second in command, the only boy who had never shown her this nasty attitude. While every other boy slowly gathered around the bonfire after they ate, Felix stayed where he was. He did not dance like the others and Y/N was not even sure if he could hear what the boys claimed to hear. Pan once said, his flute was special and the girl was supposed to hear her too. None of them had an explanation, still, it did not seem like the first time for Pan, seeing something like this. 

The girl's eyes darted back to Felix, his eyes already burning on her skin and she instantly moved her head to make it look less obvious. The tempting idea of walking over to him burned inside her guts, but with all those boys around, she was like being frozen in place. The second in command never talked to her when it was not necessary, not even one muscle in his face twitched when he interacted with the others. Still, something inside Y/N pulled her towards him from the beginning, as if his attempt to block her out was even more tempting. When she distanced herself from the bonfire back to her tent, Felix stayed at his seat instead of following her like she had imagined he would do. A little disappointed she went to bed and kept twirling all her thoughts around the mysterious second in command. There were so many questions about him. No one ever understood Felix, maybe not even Pan, although they were closer to each other than no one else on this whole Island.  

The following days Pan left Felix in charge, going on a mission by himself. The absence of Neverland's leader made itself noticeable first, when the lost boys stopped playing their big games and went directly to their duties, almost no words slipping from their usually loud mouths as they worked in silence. The day had started boring for everyone on it, Pan was already away for a few days, so Felix was fully in charge. Games were off, along with parties and especially dances in the evening. If Y/N could tell, the dances were the most annoying thing to the second in command, the thing he hated the most. Felix did not like the idea of taking care of anybody else but himself. So it came that even after weeks, Y/N had barely exchanged some words with him. He would simply avoid her and in case of sharing a task, just stare at her in curiosity. It was a lie to say he did not make her nervous, even when it was not in a scary way. The second in command was weird in any way and whenever he built himself up in front of her, she and broad, he made her look even shorter than she actually was. A feeling almost pleasant instead of scary. It was like something pulled her towards the cold lost boy, but the lack of courage would not let her talk to him. If he felt the same?

Felix was intimidating to look at, it was like something was wrong with his face but Y/N could never tell what. His high pitched cheeks were sharp and narrow and there was an awful scar running along his left cheek up to his brows like an 'x'. The most creepy things were his eyes though, whenever she looked into them, she was willingly drowning in a cold puddle that dragged her deeper in. They pierced her, as if he knew every secret inside the girl's head. Nevertheless, he was not ugly, rather pretty to look at. When his blonde hair hung messy over his face and the way he smelled. Whenever she walked past him, she would smell pinewood and musk. Even though he was well known for his cruelty, the lost boy never raised his hand against Y/N, nor called her nasty things like the others did. She was not even sure on how to do it anyways. Felix always looked busy or like he did not want anyone to speak to him. When she thought of it, the girl could not remember one single boy really talking to the second in command except Pan, but then again,- they only talked about plans and other secrets. He was a mystery of his own, a riddle for Y/N to solve. She glanced over to him and saw that he was carving something into a piece of wood. The lanky lost boy had distanced himself from the other boys, having his seat on a log as closest to the forest as possible. Maybe she could strike a conversation about his passion for carving? He was doing that almost everyday without talking about it and when she thought about it, she had never seen the final results. After a while, courage overcame her, so she stood up and walked slowly into Felix's direction, already noticing in the corner of her eyes the disapproving and concerned looks of some boys. They started to talk quietly to each other and she instantly knew it was about her. Their eyes burned more on Y/N's skin with each step further towards Felix, making her feel nervous and jumpy. Rolling with her eyes at them, she still marched to the lanky blonde boy, stopping when she was close enough to him. The heads of the lost boys instantly shot away, as if they felt too scared to let Felix know about their curiosity when he lifted his heavy head from his broad shoulders.

Felix's eyes darted up, his mouth shut tight and his facial expression went blank like always. His look told Y/N that he was strong, but never how he felt. She tried to say something, but the words got stuck in her throat. Unable to speak, she stared with a deadpan face back at the second in command, trying to find an excuse for her behaviour. The idea with the wood seemed so dumb suddenly and she wished she could just melt into the ground or simply disappear as the lost boy stared back at her, locking their eyes and waiting for her to say something.

"Have you seen Pan?" Y/N choked out and sounded calmer than she expected to be. The blonde boy raised an eyebrow suspiciously and nodded behind him into the dark forest. Big trees hovered high up into the sky, all around the clearing, hiding every view. It was pitch black. Y/N swallowed at the sight of the dark woods and she shook her head slowly, feeling so scared of the unknown dangers. There was no reason for her to see Pan, the leader was not a pleasant person himself and the lie only made her more anxious. 

"I think it wasn't important anyways." She mumbled unsure and turned around, feeling how her whole face heatened up at the fact that she talked to the mysterious second in command. Suddenly, the tall boy grabbed her by the wrist, causing her to turn and face him again.

"I'll bring you to him, if you feel scared to go alone." He said dry and rose to his feet, tall and intimidating. The girl was so small next to him, peeking up to him again as her limbs lightly started to tremble. Felix glanced down at her and again, she shook her head slowly. The girl did not know if he simply did not notice it, but when the lost boy shoved her into the pitch black, terror overcame her. What was he doing? Not daring to say a word, before the light around her vanished, she only felt the lost boy's hand on her back as he pushed her gently forwards. Her heart was pounding so hard, she feared he might feel it. Where the hell would he bring her? Where was Pan all the time? 

"Don't." Y/N winced and turned on her heels, running past Felix back into the camp. The lost boy instantly jumped around and stormed after her, chasing her across the clearing towards some big trees. She tripped over one of their big roots, almost crashing down but still finding her balance. This was the moment Felix jumped at the girl, crashing down with her, his heavy weight pressing the air out of her lungs. The lost boy spun her around and pinned her arms down on the floor before she could take a sharp inhale. Y/N tried to free herself in panic, but she could not move at all, when the slender boy straddled her and held her down. The colours in Y/N's  face faded away and her heart pumped wild inside her as if it were about to explode, unable to tell if she felt excited or scared. Maybe a healthy mix of both. She was sure he did not want to hurt her. Frankly, he never did.

"Why in the hell are you running from me." He asked angry, slightly confused and she thought even a bit hurt as he pressed his brows strictly together. 

"Don’t hurt me." She muttered and the pale boy frowned. He loosened his grip and swiftly rose to his feet and pulled his hood back over his head, then strutted quickly away, not even giving her a last glance. 

That was strange, she thought. Her heart was still beating furiously. What happened? The lost boy scared her and made her feel like burning at the same time. She took a deep breath and raised to her feet, wiping the dirt off her clothes. Felix was a strange guy and he only confused Y/N. Why did he just stand up and leave? She was not dumb and clearly could add two and two together. But it could not be that the second in command had some interest in her, why should he? The boy barely spoke to the girl, even when they had chores together. Y/N remembered one of the first days, when Pan sent them both to get some dreamshade and the tall blonde did not even let her near one of those plants, not even mentioning why. When he held the filled glasses, the boy walked a big distance between her back to camp, giving her the feeling of not being wanted. Later she had learned the dangers of it and Felix's strange behaviour now. It was an easy addition but she needed to be sure, not even knowing how to deal with this information.

If I am right.

The next day Felix clearly avoided her. Whenever he felt like she was too close, the lost boy would quickly find another place to go. She did not want to ask any of the boys about it, not wanting them to know, but it was obviously something off. They would not answer her anyways, only giving her questioning looks. After that weird situation in the evening before, the second in command completely vanished. There was no big effort to look for him and when the girl went to bed, she completely forgot about him. He had not given her any duties yet, so she took her chance and left the camp to take a shower and later gather some fruits and seeds, everything edible the Island would offer her without having to kill. She did not know how to hunt and was not sure if she could even catch an animal. Peter once told her that his best man would teach her to hunt, but Felix always seemed to be so busy that she simply never asked him to. At first she had avoided the blonde, lanky boy, not knowing his temper. He had scared her so much but now she could not stop thinking of how he had straddled her and how much she liked it. This was stupid. She barely knew Felix and still Y/N pictured herself with him in so many daydreams now. It was always easier to dream about someone and she was not crazy enough to consider anything about the rough boy. But where would he be? What is he doing right now? God, she needed to stop thinking about Felix. She was overthinking. 

The time passed by and Y/N found herself at the clearing again, watching two boys fight in the distance, with a small crowd around to cheer their violence. Her eyes wandered over the whole area, searching for the second in command. He sat far away next to a few older lost boys that hollered around while drinking some rum. Since Felix would not let them do anything, the only possible solution for the boys was to drink and do stupid things that would not bother the tall scarred one. They were drinking more alcohol than any adult could ever handle. The girl's eyes shifted over the group, seeing how they stumbled and swayed around. Felix sat on a log with his own bottle of rum in his hands, he kept his distance from the other boys, observing them with a blank expression but it was visible that he was drunk, too. When he saw Y/N entering the camp, the second in command's head spun around, meeting her gaze and she could swear his face lightened up.

"Y/N!" Someone big yelled excitedly and jumped at her from the side, almost swaying her off her feet before she could even think of the name "Felix".

"Drink with us!" The chubby boy cheered with a dizzy voice. His dark, bushy eyebrows hung deep over his small eyes and he wrinkled his nose, making a nasty, slimy sound, reminding her of a mull. He was not pretty to look at, mean and vicious, sometimes insulting for no reason. He was that kind of a boy who would mock one and still complain when they did not want to be his friend. 

"No, tha-"

"DRINK!" The chubby boy repeated himself more aggressively and grabbed Y/N's wrist to stop her from leaving before she could even try getting away. His fat fingers would definitely leave a mark later as she furiously tried to yank herself  free.

"YOU ARE HURTING ME!" Y/N whined and buried her nails into his wrist, but the lost boy would not let go.

"It will be fun! Don't be such a lame ass." He gave back and tightened his grip. Felix, who had watched the whole scene from a distance, immediately jumped to his feet and stormed towards them, yanking the boy away and threw him violently into the mud. He gave him the most powerful kick that his anger would provoke, that the sound of the fat lost boy's scream caught everyone's attention. 

"I will snap your fucking neck!" Felix threatened so calmly that the other boys would not even hear it as he pressed his jaw together, his hands forming into fists that his knuckles turned white. The chubby moonface groaned dizzy and turned onto his stomach, trying to lift himself drunkenly out of the sludge. With a closer look, Y/N understood why they all called him Piggy, instead of Mull. He turned his head confused around before he would drop back onto the ground again. The girl's eyes widened at the sight of this cruelty, even though she felt relieved and maybe a little entertained to see Piggy like this. He truly deserved it. On the other hand, she wondered why Felix came so quickly to help after he had tried his best to get out of her way. Y/N's cheeks burned up and she knew it would be the perfect moment to talk to him.

"Go." Felix said. He turned to her and shoved her gently away from the boys towards the tents. His big hand warmed her comfortably on her back, waking the butterflies in her stomach and causing her to shiver. The second in command rested one one of his arms on the girl's shoulder to keep his balance as he swayed between the tall bushes forwards between the trees.

"You should go to sleep." The lost boy said huskily, stopping in front of her tent, his grey eyes staring at the closed curtains. The excitement inside Y/N turned into disappointment when she saw where this actually went, so she stared irritated at the tent as Felix pulled his arm away and stepped away, slowly heading back. 

"I am not tired!" Y/N gave back and knitted her brows together, confused why he just left her now. He could have stayed at the camp instead of joining her in the first place. Why come all this way up here? Felix's head spun around before turning back to stop right in front of the girl. He bent down to face her and made it possible to smell the alcohol in his breath as she stared into his gray eyes illuminated by the pale moonlight. The messy, ashen hair hung half over his face,- Y/N liked so many things about him and right now he was so perfect. He has never been that close before, except when he had tackled her.

"The boys aren't so well behaved," The second in command snickered. "Especially not in that state."

Y/N giggled when she thought of Felix acting like he was a good boy, after all those terrible things he did. There was a reason why he was second in command of this brutal gang and he proved it by the way he treated Piggy. 

"And you're not?" She gave back quite bravely, raising an eyebrow cockily. Felix chuckled low to himself, slightly shaking his head before he gave her a smirk, showing his white palette of perfectly lined up teeth.

"If you want me to," Felix purred and wiggled with his brows. "I'll be whatever you want."

The girl felt goosebumps spread all over her body at his words and for a moment, she just stared speechless back at him, unable to say a word and wanting nothing more than kissing those pink lips. Felix was drunk, he could not think straight and definitely did not mean what he said. The lost boy's breath tickled hers and she noticed how close he was and how she just had to lean in, to steal a kiss. There was no way she would risk it, well aware that Pan loved games and she could not let the thought go, his best man would love them as well. 

"Do you have any suggestions?" She asked as her nose touched his, her lips almost on his as she gently ran her hands over his chest. Felix ignored the question, moving instinctively and rough, grabbing Y/N's neck and pulling her in to close the distance between their mouths. His tongue was warm and tasted like liquor, still it did not bother her at all, when he vividly explored the inside of her mouth. Felix's hands vanished under her hair, grabbing her head and pressing the girl firmer against him while his intoxicated mind led his actions. Y/N gasped surprised into the kiss, not expecting him to do this even though it was what she wished for. Felix was way taller than her and for the moment he was forced to bend down at her height, holding her in his broad arms that pressed her tightly against his chest. When Felix’s pulled away, his eyes were still shut and he ran his thumb over Y/N's lips, licking his own and let out a gasp when he realised that he did not only imagined to do that. Then his eyes widened and she could see that he realised for the first time what just happened, what he just did.

"Sorry…" Felix mumbled unbelievingly and shook his head with widened eyes. He pushed her harshly away and rose to his feet, quickly checking full terror if someone had watched it.

"I was-" Felix spoke hoarse and slowly took a step back, then another one, a few more, until he turned on his heels and sprinted quickly away,  not finishing what he tried to say. 

Y/N stood there for a moment as if she were stuck in place, not able to process what just happened. With a swift movement she stormed through the curtains of her tent towards her bed to hide under the covers. She grabbed a pillow, held it against her face and screamed inside it. It was hard to tell if she felt excited or embarrassed. Felix kissed her, so why should she be worried about something? Maybe it was a test and she failed? Hell no, that would be some serious bullshit if that were the first explanation and she had seen his reaction. The way he held her and how he tasted heatened her up. Every cell inside her body craved for more.

No, what are you doing, she thought and shook her head, replaying that scenario in her head over and over again like a broken record. With a swift move she rolled onto her back and stared up at the curtain ceiling, hoping to find an answer to what her next step could be. If the lost boys would find out, they would never stop talking about it, maybe even start to think she was easy to have. Y/N gulped and squinted her eyes at the thought of them all trying to hit on her. Felix was different though. He was tall and intimidating, his cold stare would pierce through her with a burning desire and his smell intoxicated her mind. Whenever he was around, she could barely think straight, desperately wanting to figure out what laid beneath that cold facade. Never in a thousand years, she could have guessed that he liked her back. On the other hand, he was not able to make proper decisions drunkenly and maybe Y/N was encouraging herself too much. There was almost nothing she knew about the tall boy and falling for him that fast could only harm herself in the end. 

Y/N closed her eyes and brought her fingers to her lips, touching them, while imaging to feel Felix's on them again and remember what they tasted like. The second in command barely spoke to her and now that? There was definitely more behind it. It had to. Her other hand slowly wandered over her stomach to pull up the dress, slipping a finger inside to play with herself. It was not the first time she thought of him while touching herself, but this time something was off. Deep inside her something stopped Y/N, no matter how aroused she already was. She needed to talk to Felix. Under no circumstances she would let him ignore her for days again. Yanking the blanket away, Y/N jumped out of the bed and eagerly left the tent, turning her head furiously around to find the tall boy. He did not sit next to the others anymore and when she walked downhill to his cabin, she could feel her heart pumping furiously inside her chest. The girl stopped in front of the wooden door to knock and when no one answered she knocked again. 

"Felix!" She tried to be as loud as she could be while still not attracting someone else's attention. There was still no answer and she felt dumb for even thinking it was as easy as this to find him after the previous events. He could not be far, the lost boys still needed someone who had an eye on them before someone could get hurt. Their hollering was still audible and the bonfire in the distance let Y/N see a few of them behind the bushes. For a moment she thought of going back to the clearing again, hoping to find Felix there, but the thought of meeting Piggy alone now was no good. 

"Y/N." The girl suddenly heard Felix’s raspy voice behind her and she turned dazzled around, the warmest smile sitting on her lips. 

Felix swayed dizzily into her direction, closing the gap between them two while he tried to keep his balance. The lost boy's head was too high up, making it impossible to steal a kiss from him now. 

"What are you doing here? I told you to sleep." He asked nervously and pulled her away from his cabin towards the trees, his head constantly turning to look if someone watched. When he placed his hand on the girl's back again, his touch sent electric waves through her spine and she wondered how his slender finger would feel on her bare skin.

"Did you drink more?" She asked, noticing how he swayed more and the second in command vividly shook his head in response, grinning like a small boy on a sunny day. 

"You have."

"No."

"Yes."

"Uh-Uh."

"I can cleanly tell-"

"I am-," Felix grabbed Y/N gently by the back of her neck and pulled her in, his face coming closer again. "-Not. Drunk."

She started to laugh and leaned into his grip, bringing her own hand up to touch his scar. Felix's blue eyes melted when he felt her fingers, closing them and relaxing as her touch traced as light as a feather down his skin. He relaxed for a moment and enjoyed the touch on his scarred skin, before he suddenly woke out of trance.

"The boys better not see us." He cleared his throat and broke apart, letting go of her.

"No one saw us, Felix." His name echoed through the dark forest like honey and Y/N grabbed his hand tight- she was way smaller than his. The girl felt Felix's breath in her face, how his nose almost touched hers and before he could do anything she had already closed the gap between them two, pressing her lips against his. Felix moaned surprised into her mouth but instantly grabbed her cheeks and slid his tongue inside. She could still taste the liquor and wondered if she might have taken advantage of this situation. The tall boy's moans told her otherwise. He moved his hands slowly towards the girl's waist down to her ass, cupping it rough while her smell intoxicated his senses. 

"We shouldn't." He whispered and she heard him move even though it was too dark to see. Nevertheless Felix pressed himself harder against her and she felt through his pants how hard he already was from only kissing. 

"Why not." She breathed against his neck, leaving a trail of kisses.

"The boys," Felix said, his eyes rolling back with a soft moan when he felt her tongue on his throat. It was enough to convince the second in command, his fingers wandered over her delicate body, burying them inside her tender flesh. It's been a long time since someone touched Y/N and she could not resist the lost boy's demanding hands. He lifted her dress and wandered with his palm over her skin to the rim of the underwear, enjoying the small moans when his fingers wandered further to her inner thigh, drawing invisible circles on it.

"Felix…" His grip tightened when he heard the girl purr his sweet name in the most delicious way and he almost could not hold himself back to tear her clothes off right at this place. The lost boy dared to slip one of his fingers inside Y/N's panties and when she did not complain, he pushed his slender index inside of her, feeling how her soft walls tightened around him. If Felix had not realised it earlier, he knew at least by now how much she craved him when he felt how wet she already was. Y/N let out a gasp when he started to push his long finger in and out of her, causing the girl's legs to tremble and her knees to shiver in excitement. She closed her eyes, giving up trying to see something in the dark as she melted into Felix's arms, her face sliding down onto his shoulder. She found her balance by grabbing the lost boy's leg and then she realised that he was kneeling in front of her. Y/N was actually glad that the surroundings were pitch black, feeling her cheeks heating up in embarrassment from her uncontrollable sweet moans. Before she would absolutely lose her mind, the girl managed to push the lost boy slightly away from her while her hands moved down to his belt. Her fingertips ran over the leather and the lost boy instantly frowned at her touch, his whole body stiffened and he stopped moving for a second.  

"W-wait." He stammered, the adrenaline pushing the dizziness of the alcohol away. "I-I… never…" he continued and stopped, his hands wrapped around Y/N's wrist, insecurities overwhelming him as he held her in a safe distance. Now she really wished to see his face, well aware that he must look like earlier when he kissed her, startled and somehow shy.

"Well," she replied after a small pause, her voice echoing clear through the night, "Neither have I."

There was an awkward silence between them two and if the lost boy would not hold her by her hips, she would probably believe he was gone by now. The second in command was embarrassed for no reason, what did he fear? Y/N had no clue how to do this and if she was honest, it was way more appealing that Felix was a virgin, too, even though she did not expect that. All the time she thought he was so confident and now he was so vulnerable to her. The lost boy still did not speak, so she bent into another kiss, hoping to catch his lips in the dark. Felix gasped when he felt her lips on his scar and pulled the girl back in.  This was good, they did not need to talk- should not talk. It would only make this weird. Talking would come naturally. Felix grabbed Y/N's hands gently and brought them back to his belt for her to continue what she had started. She let her fingers trail over the leather to his buckle to open it, enjoying the moment when she opened the button of his pants and slowly pulled down his zipper. The lost boy moaned inside her mouth when she slid her hand into his pants, pumping his hardened cock as best as the tight cotton would allow her to. Felix noticed her struggle and broke apart from the kiss to lift himself up and take off his clothes. Y/N heard how each piece of clothing dropped onto the ground while she waited to be told to do the same. 

"Should I keep my dress on or-"

"Keep it on." Felix ordered and chuckled to himself, then pulled her back against him, his cock pressing against her stomach. The lost boy let his hands slide under the girl's dress and pulled down her panties for more access, then kneeled naked in front of her while his fingers did their magic. They felt so long and strange, making Y/N wonder if she could even handle Felix's cock. He already felt so big in her hand when she touched him again, fully exposed and hardened. The lost boy lifted one of her legs over his broad shoulder and before Y/N could even figure out what he was doing, Felix pressed his tongue against her clit. She let out a surprised gasp and giggled at the ticklish sensation. The lost boy felt how tense her leg was and reached for the girl's hand, holding it and drawing invisible circles on her palm. 

"Relax." He lifted his head and lightly squeezed her fingers, caressing it a little, then pushed his mouth against her slit, his hot breath warming her as his tongue slid over her clit. The comfort of his touch relaxed Y/N instantly as if the lost boy had enchanted her somehow. He pressed his rough tongue harder against her, burying his face between her legs as he ate her out. The girl could not control herself to keep her from moaning, but led the boy's pace with it, whenever something felt good. He buried his nails into the tender flesh of her thighs and with a swift move he pushed the girl down onto the ground, pushing his fingers faster into her. She could not tell which was tongue or fingers, the overflowing sensation spread inside her body up to her eyes as she felt how she got closer to her orgasm. When Felix’s jaw started to ache he broke apart, breathing heavily and leaving Y/N craving for more on the cold ground in the exact moment she would almost finish. Without saying a word the lost boy pulled himself up to her, placing some sloppy kisses on her mouth before placing his arms next to her, so that his weight would not be too much.

"I want you so much." He panted while he slowly let his thumb circle over her aroused clit. 

"Felix-" She pressed her lips onto his and stroked his hardened dick and pulled his torso closer to lead him to her wet entrance. The lost boy let out an uncontrollable moan as he pressed his dick against her dripping slit that already craved him so hard, slowly gliding in to make the girl feel every piece of his mighty cock. He stayed in this position for a moment to adjust this feeling and Y/N felt herself tighten around him, excitement overwhelming her body along with the smell of the lost boy intoxicating her mind.

"Fuck!" Felix hissed as he started to move in a steady motion. His lips caught her once more, pulling her into a long, passionate kiss. Y/N took a sharp breath and pushed her hand against his abdomen, when the lost boy moved, feeling like getting torn apart by him. The lost boy stopped for a moment, shoving one arm under her neck to hold her while his lips softly traced over her chest. After a short moment,  Felix moved again. Y/N buried her nails into his skin and rolled her eyes back as the lost boy thrusted into her core, slowly feeling herself relaxing in this position after a few strokes. The pain faded away and she melted into Felix's body as if he was meant to hold her. The sweetest words kept unsaid, too embarrassing, too emotional, still, there was something inside them both that felt more than just enjoying sex. It was Felix who took her virginity and the thought of being the one who took his let her heart skip faster. The second in command felt like a dream,- his sweaty, hot skin pressed tight against hers, his abs flexed and hardened during every move and he was just so fucking tall. Felix moved both of his hands down and cupped her naked butt, lifting Y/N up and pressing her against the bark of a tree. He buried his fingers into her tender flesh and left a trail of kisses on her neck as far as he would reach her. The lost boy held Y/N as if she weighed nothing, pressing her body tightly against his skin. She could not resist sinking her teeth into his neck, sucking on the delicate spot until she was sure he would not leave without a mark. As soon as Felix realised what she was doing, he pulled her head back by her hair. To his own surprise, she let out a light moan, feeling even more excited from his big hand in them. 

"The boys can't know." Felix purred into Y/N's ear before he licked over her neck, sinking his teeth lightly into her shoulder to hold him back from letting out another moan. 

"Harder!" The girl commanded for Felix's surprise, who had already thought he was already being too rough with her. The lost boy followed the order, pressing himself tighter against her before he paced up, pumping in and out. The sudden sensation flooded Y/N's body and she knew there was something building up inside her, an indescribable feeling of being high. Felix moans got higher, sometimes even stuck in his throat and she was sure he was close too and that he desperately wanted to climax. Before she could realise it, Felix swayed them back onto the ground, gripping her ankles and pressing them against his legs as she wrapped her arms around his neck to capture the lost boy in another kiss. 

"I am almost-" Felix spoke in a hoarse tone. It was so dark and Y/M really wished she could see his face at this moment. Felix was so vulnerable right now and even though his moans were the most beautiful melody in her ears, just the thought of a short glimpse of his face made her feel hotter.

"Felix." She purred when he suddenly hit a spot that would not stop making her feel like being on ecstasy. 

"I-." She gasped when the knot inside her stomach released and she felt her orgasm roaring through her body with thousands of tiny, electric waves. Jaw clenched and eyes pinched, Felix gave it to her in short, powerful bursts, filling her up with throbbing pumps. His abs flexed and his hands tightened around her ankles. He cursed. His body tensed, and she swore she felt his cock pulsing inside of her as he came in waves, thrusting in and out until he felt himself getting soft.

"Fuck…" Felix let her legs fall to the side as he bent to rest his head on her sweaty chest. "That was…"

She combed her fingers through his messy hair, almost out of words how incredibly good she felt. "That was something."

"Yeah." He kissed the spot between her breasts, "It was."

Felix pulled his dick out, not even seeing the mess he made but still wanting more. Neither of them wanted that night to end and for a while, Felix tried to find his clothes and Y/N thought of how she would clean herself up.

"C'mon." Felix whispered and she heard him step away. 

"Wait!" Y/N called and quickly grabbed her underwear- well, the only choice right now-, cleaning herself with it, before running after the tall blonde and crashing into his back.

"Easy, love." He chuckled and grabbed her under one of his arms and strutted towards the dark in one direction, knowing this place perfectly, even drunkenly and without light. 

"Where are we going?" The girl asked after what felt like an eternity for her, but in reality it was just a few minutes. The trees left some space for the moonlight now and gave her a chance to take a peak from the second in command's happy face. His cheeks were dyed a deep scarlet and his hair hung messy and full sweat down his face. 

"Trust me." He said and paced a little up before he came to halt in front of a big tree, the ladder up to it vanished behind some leaves. Felix climbed up first and lifted the girl up into the tree house when reached the trap door. Felix moved towards a small night desk and lit up a candle. As soon as the light flooded the room, Y/N saw the small cot and a self-made desk under one of the closed windows. 

"I built it myself." The lost boy grinned and proudly watched the awe in her face. She swirled around and looked at some little carvings that were placed on the wooden table. Some of them looked like her. When Y/N's eyes detected the little sculpture, she finally understood why she never saw the results and why he burned one earlier. The girl turned around to say something, but Felix stopped her immediately. Before she could say anything, Felix dropped down onto one knee and pulled her into a kiss. His tongue slid over her lips, begging for permission to enter. Without thinking about it, she opened her mouth and felt the lost boy's hand on her hips, pressing her against his body. 

"I never thought you would like me too." Felix moaned and eagerly kissed his way down her neck, back to her face and lips, repeating the same thing on the other side and showing how hungry he still was for the girl. Felix clearly had not been touched in a while, just like Y/N, so it was quite natural that they immediately would have a moment like this sooner or later. But why Felix? What was about him that made Y/N constantly crave more, causing her to feel like an addict without his drugs, whenever his lips left hers? Her cheeks heated up and she smiled in the kiss, thinking of the previous events, how Felix's hands felt on her skin. It was special to be with him and the girl's instincts told her that it was more than just sex, that Felix wanted more, too. 

"I want you again." Felix licked over his lips and looked at Y/N through half-opened eyes before he slowly melted back into another kiss, this time slow and passionate, synchronising with her while his hands moved down her hips and legs. He gently rubbed his hand against her inner thigh and wandered towards her crotch, to shove a finger inside her still wet hole. He smirked dirty when he felt his mess. Y/N wanted him so much, just like he craved her, maybe even a little more. 

"I want to get naked all night long." Felix purred as he pushed his fingers inside and out of Y/N, her light moans echoing in his ears. Without further commands, the girl slipped the dress over her shoulder, letting it elegantly slide down her now exposed body. Felix's cheeks flushed up into the deepest red, his eyes admiring every sight of her that he desired for so long, and truth be told, he was in awe. When the cotton touched the floor, the lost boy grabbed for the hem of his own shirt and ripped it off, then quickly unbuttoned his pants before he crossed them with his underwear through the room. When Felix pinned her down and pulled Y/N into another kiss, he was already hard again, his hot skin burning against hers as her mind drifted off into a feeling of ecstasy. The way Felix's hands trailed down her body gave her chills once more, kept her warm and made her feel wanted. 

"Pan would kill us for this." She mumbled into the kiss when the girl thought of how he protected her earlier, something he never did before and sure did not keep unnoticed to the other boys as well. It worried Y/N for a moment, thinking about how Pan always found out every secret, no matter how little it was. And this was definitely not a small secret, something that could be obvious to others. Or maybe Y/N was just paranoid. 

"Relax." Felix said, frowning at her words as if the same thought had bothered him for a while now, too. "He isn't here. He won't find out."

The blonde boy rolled over onto his back, pulling the girl with him so she would straddle him. The light of the candle danced over his sharp features, letting it shine in an orange light that spread down to his muscles, constantly catching her eyes as if they were glued on him. Felix always looked beautiful in the orange light of the fire. Every night she would catch herself staring at him. He was perfect. 

"You look so beautiful." Felix whispered more to himself than to her, then wiped some hair out of her face. "Unbelievable that someone like you chose someone weird like me."

Before Y/N could correct him, the second in command already captured her lips with his own, burying one hand in her hair while he kneaded one of her breasts with the other one. His words only flattered the girl and she felt the burning desire to finally be one with him again and melt into his body. Felix gasped at her touch and moaned into her mouth when she wrapped her hand around his dick, slowly pumping up and down while gently rubbing at the delicate tip. His member felt long and thick in her hands, but did not scare her off like earlier. Placing the tip at her wet entrance, she slowly slid down onto him, relieved that the lost boy did not push against back,. The stretching feeling made her feel like getting torn apart all over again and she  gave herself a moment to adjust to the size. The lost boy rolled his eyes back and shut them with a loud moan when he felt her walls tightened around, rubbing his thumbs against the tender flesh of her  hips, when she finally started to slowly move up and down. Seeing the ruthless second in command like this was really stunning and lovely to look at. Felix's mouth was slightly agape and the muscles on his forehead were constantly twitching, moving his eyebrows constantly around. Never had Y/N seen so much emotion in his face before. She  pressed her body against the lost boy and sucked at the tender part of Felix's neck. The lost boy used that moment as a chance to turn her over, holding Y/N tight in his arm, the other one holding his weight so he would not suffocate her while he was pumping in and out. Y/N moaned in ecstasy and ran her hands over his muscular back, feeling his skin against them and how his sweat dropped onto her body. She placed her legs on each side of his, clearly noticing the height difference and feeling like a delicate doll as he embraced her. Felix paced up and she rolled her eyes back when he entered in another angle to come even deeper. She never wanted this to stop and kept feeling how the lost boy filled her with his thick manhood, smelling his scent and feeling his hot skin burning against hers. Felix kissed his way down to her chest and caught one of her nipples between his lips, lightly starting to suck on them and intensing it with each time he thrusted in. These were the final strokes that caused Y/N's legs to shiver and tense up every muscle in her body as her climax roared through her whole body, up into her eyes into the back of her head. The lost boy grabbed Y/N's shoulders and when he came, too, the light of the candles danced in his beautiful, scrunched up face. It was a lie to say she did not like that view and the squeaking sound he made when Felix felt his orgasm deep inside her with throbbing pumps. Felix rolled next to the girl, trying to catch his breath and when he did so, he grabbed a towel from the bed for her. 

"We could have used the bed." Y/N broke the soothing silence after a while and Felix chuckled, then nodded in agreement.  

"Next time." He grinned, pulling his boxers up and placing himself back onto the ground. His eyes did not stop looking at the girl while she grabbed her dress and pulled it back over herself. For a long time they just looked at each other, laughing and giggling, kissing each other but remaining silent. This was clearly something none of them expected to happen. 

"What do you see in me?" Y/N suddenly asked, caughting the lost boy off guard, his facial expression went into full confusion. It took him a moment to think about her question before he simply smiled. His eyes would always melt at her sight and in that moment she needed no words from him to realise how much he was in love with her. The lost boy pulled Y/N closer to him and placed her head against his chest, lifted her on his arms and carried her to the bed where he would let himself fall onto the soft mattress. His legs hung over the wooden frame as he gently rubbed his hands over her back while listening to the beat of his heart. 

"I would never let anyone harm you." His voice was just a warm breeze on her earlobe, tickling her like a gentle kiss. 

"What about Pan?" She asked after a while and took a glimpse at his relaxed face and how her question did not seem to have woken any worries inside him now. He had brushed it off earlier.

"I think, actually, he knew way before me." Felix chuckled low and shook his head unbelieving. "He gave me a chance I got wasted."

[forever-rogue]

In Name Only - Part 1

A/N: Ughhh, hi! I’m a whore for Oberyn Martell and cannot be stopped. This is gonna be a little series, only a few parts (at least for now), and I hope you enjoy. This was one of my many shower ideas that I couldn’t let go!  As always, feedback and comments are welcome, and if you’d like to be tagged, let me know! xx

Pairing: Oberyn Martell x Reader

Word Count: 6.5k

Warnings: slight language

IN NAME ONLY SERIES MASTERLIST

MASTERLIST

»»————-　♡　————-««

“I will not marry a man that does not love me,” you cursed the gods for making you a woman. You cursed your mother for being the way she was though it was not her fault that you were her only daughter among six sons. You cursed the laws of men that determined your position in life, “I will not be tied down to man who does not care about me, to a castle that will never be a home, and bear children I do not want.”

“You are an insolent, silly girl,” she hissed at you, and for a moment you feared that she might reached and strike you across the face. She had been prone to doing so when you were younger, but in her older years she had calmed down, softening with the birth of each child after you, each son, each brother you loathed for how easy their lives were, “you should have been married many moons ago.”

“I will not marry a man almost twice my age that openly keeps a lover and already has plenty of children,” a fiery rage set through your bones, one that would probably be perfectly suited in the warm, desert homeland of the husband she insisted you take. In the Reach, your attitude was abhorred, and you were considered the lone deviant of your family, “I will not give up my freedoms because you deem it fit for me to do so.”

“You will marry him and bear him an heir,” she grabbed your hair and roughly yanked it and leaned in so only you could hear, “you are lucky any man will have you. You’re much too old to be unwed and your demeanor makes you almost unbearable.”

“I will not do it,” you gritted your teeth and tried to pull out of grasp, “I will not subject myself to a life of servitude-”

“When I was your age I’d already been long married to your father and had you and two of your brothers,” she reminded, pushing you away with a heavy sigh, “do you think I wanted to get married? I was no more than a child, and you at least are a woman grown. I could have married you off years ago, as I should have. You would have been out of my sight and perhaps tamed.”

“I refuse. I will not bend and break to your whim,” turning away you started to storm off, hoping that some fresh air would calm you down. Perhaps you could ride your horse through the open pastures and fields surrounding the castle.

“And just what do you plan on doing then? Will you wander through the kingdoms on your own, travelling without anything or anyone like a heathen?”

“Perhaps I will,” you shrugged, “it would be better than doing what you ask of me. If you loved me-”

“If you do not marry him, you will be cut off from this family,” her words were enough to cause you turn around and listen to her, “you will lose your name, your worldly possessions, and you will be penniless. Is that really what you desire?”

“All of this because I do not want to take a husband?”

“It is your duty. As it has been the duty of every woman before you.”

“Fuck duty!” your voiced reverberated around the castle’s stone walls as she stared you down, “I will not marry someone I do not love. Father would never make me do so.”

“And your father is dead,” she reminded you with venom lacing her tone, “and what do you even know about love? It is a fiction created to keep little girls happy.”

“I loved him,” your heart felt like it was being ripped out of your chest as you thought of him. Your mother scoffed and dramatically rolled her eyes at you, “I loved him and you sent him away to certain death because you are a monster.”

“That horrid boy? He was a bastard,” she reminded you of the cruel little thing that kept you apart. How you rued the term of bastard; it did not mean anything, it did not determine a person’s character or heart, “he was never good enough for you. And you defiled yourself for him.”

“Because I loved him!” you insisted, “and he loved me! We would have been happy together, we could have built a life together...”

“He was a peasant, he tended stables-”

“That does not matter to me,” you reminded her, “he was kind and gentle and warm. I would have loved to have a life of tending stables if meant I was with him. Because I loved him!”

“You were lost in your girlhood fantasies of what you think love is,” she was cruel, each of her words twisting like a knife in your gut, “he was the first boy to show you attention and you fell for his little trap, and it has left you ruined for other men. You are lucky that Oberyn Martell does not know and he will not care, the one benefit of having a Dornish heathen for a husband.”

“I did love him, mother,” you tried hard to fight off the flood of tears that were pricked the back of your eyes, “and just because you can’t handle that you sent him to the Wall where he will live out his days and die. I never even got to say goodbye.”

“He was a bastard, it did not matter.”

“He was a good man,” your voice broke slightly as you tried to square your shoulders and stare her down, “his only fault in life was loving me. It’s gotten him the most cruel of fates.”

“I have had enough of you,” she steeled herself and strode past you, regal and noble in appearance as ever, “in two weeks time you will travel to Dorne and you will marry Oberyn Martell. You will either oblige and do it, as is your duty or you be expelled from this castle and can live out your days among the bastards that you love so much. It is your choice, whether you bring shame to this family or you disappear into the background as a woman should and become a dutiful wife.”

“Those are both horrible, vile options.”

“That is duty of being born a woman.”

“I wish I was born a man then,” you turned on your heel to walk away, wishing you were stronger, wishing you weren’t on the verge of tears, “maybe then I would not subjected to such a cruel fate, and I wouldn’t let any woman in my care suffer the same.”

“Aren’t you just the martyr,” she mocked you with such a ferocity that you wanted to give her a good whack across her own smug face, “you think you know so much, you know nothing.”

“I know what it means to be a good person, or at least to try,” it was days like that you longed for your father. He had been a kindhearted, generous man, one who did not believe in the stereotypes that divided men and women. He was the reason you had remained unwed for many years, far past the age of anyone of noble blood. He encouraged your wildness, your open heart and free spirit. Your mother had always been the exact opposite. You always wondered how they seemingly got along so well, but you’d come to understand that it was no more than an illusion. The only love they shared was that of their children, and sometimes you wondered how deep that truly ran.

“Enough,” her tone held the cruel finality, the singular word was as sharp as a dagger as she stood in the doorway, the soft light filtering in behind her. She was a handsome woman, and if you hadn’t known better, she appeared almost angelic. But you knew better, much better; she was no more a saint than you were a sinner. You remained steadfast in your spot, trying to channel the ferocity that your father always embodied, “in two weeks time you will travel to Sunspear and you will marry the prince.”

“I would rather die.”

“If you choose your own grave so be it,” she slammed the door to her quarters shut, letting the sound ring through the hall. You had flinched at the noise, but now it only served to anger you. Your whole life, the little joys it still afforded you would be taken away soon, all because of a name. All because you were a woman. 

They often called occasions such as these little deaths, but you had a feeling that it would be a lot more than a little pain to make yourself subservient to a husband you did not want.

»»————-　♡　————-««

The journey from the lush green lands of Honeyholt and surrounding lands into the dry, red deserts of Dorne had been...miserable. While you would have relished traveling and seeing the new lands under any other circumstance, you experienced no moments of tranquility or peace. The landscapes meshed into one and the only thing signaling that you were entered the land of the Dornish was the stifling heat. The Reach was temperate, never an extreme in either direction, but Sunspear provided its first test through the scorching heat of the golden sun. 

It would take some getting used to but you could understand why the symbol of the house you would soon be joining was a blazing sun. It never seemed to fade, casting its golden light across every inch of the land. The people that you spied in villages and smaller cities as you approached Sunspear looked as if they didn’t mind; perhaps only a lifetime of heat would allow you to get used to it. 

Their curious glances were always trained on you, and your small retinue that would depart as soon as you arrived safely. You were an outsider from a strange land that the Dornish were reluctant to trust; it wasn’t common fro one of Northern breeding to step this far south. Not that you had much of a choice in the matter; you hadn’t thrown a fit, or cried, or screamed, not wanting to give anyone the satisfaction of seeing you so upset. Instead you had remained silent, speaking only a few words here and there as necessary, your true self hidden behind a thick veneer of steel. Maybe your true self would be hidden forever, dying a little bit day by day as you waited patiently for your death. 

There would be no ceremony, no pomp, and most definitely no circumstance when you arrived to your new home and to meet the man who would shortly become your husband. You would be all but abandoned in the palace where you knew no one, trying to fend for yourself. It had been at your mother’s request and you knew exactly why she would treat you in such a manner; each of your brothers, all but the two youngest had been married off already, in a show of great festivities and celebration. You were all but kicked under the carpet, a smudge on the family name that she wished to forget. 

Your mother harbored no love for the Dornish, whom she considered savages and uncultured; she must have been desperate to finally see you off if she agreed to a marriage proposal from the Martells. You wondered why they had even asked for you; there were plenty of other families in Dorne that could have produced a worthy daughter, or other Northern families that might have agreed. Perhaps they too realized that it would difficult to marry off a prince nearing middle age that housed a paramour and bragged about his bastard daughters. It did not phase you, or bother you in the slightest; you were pleased rather that they seemed to enjoy life to such a degree. But perhaps even the Martells were smart enough to know that they would need heirs, legitimate ones, to recognized by the Northern countries and carry on their name. 

When you arrived at the palace in Sunspear, your jaw dropped slightly in surprise - it was a stunning beauty, a feat of architecture that you were loathe to find anywhere else in the seven kingdoms. It presented a sharp contrast to the home you had known your entire life; there was no bleak grays or beiges that met your eyes, instead colorful, brilliant shades of warm crimsons, oranges, tans, and bronzes met your eyes. it was warm and welcoming, despite the reason for your arrival. If this was to be your home for the remainder of your days, at least it was beautiful. 

Your carriage came to a harsh stop and you almost slid off your seat at the sudden force. You groaned lightly as you straightened yourself, looking down at the green dress you were sporting and already wishing you had something cooler to wear. If you had been granted your way, you’d be dressed the same as the men that could spy all around the palace, sporting a pair of trousers and a loose tunic. Your father had never cared what you wore, but the day your mother found out that you had been running around like a boy, she had made you wear only the finest dresses. You’d still sneak off in trousers whenever presented with the opportunity, a small thrill running through your veins, knowing that you were directly defying your mother.

The small door was opened and you stepped out, letting your feet hit the warm the sand. You wiggled your feet about, trying to get a feel for it, bending over and picking up a handful of the small grains. It was a dark bronze color, different than the seasides of the Reach, and softer. You liked it, you immediately decided, it was much more comforting than stone and hard soil. 

“Knock it off and put it back,” internally rolling your eyes at the septa you swore you were much too old to still have you, you let the sand trickle out of your hand and back onto the ground, “you’re acting like a child. You must behave and act like a proper woman.”

Sighing lightly, you remained wordless, not wanting to start an argument in the middle of your new home before you’d even made a proper entrance. The few items you’d brought from Honeyholt with you were quickly unloaded and brought into the palace. You hadn’t desired to bring much; you wanted a fresh start, a new one that you could call all your own, even if you weren’t here by choice. It felt like you could hang on to a little bit of autonomy that way. 

Your most prized possession hung around your neck: a delicate golden chain that contained a small rose colored gem. It had been given to you by your father on your fourteenth nameday; he’d presented it to you with such joy and excitement, having it made just for you. He had claimed that the rose gem symbolized love and that you would always know how much he loved and adored you whenever you wore it. You hadn’t taken it off since his untimely demise; a small consolation for not having him around anymore. 

You’d been so lost in your own thoughts, of your father, of your new life, that you hadn’t seen realized you’d stepped foot inside, until a pair of arms wrapped around you. Your body tensed in defense as you came back to reality and saw a young, dark haired girl grinning at you. She was beautiful, clearly of Dorne with her sunkissed skin and dark features, and animated smile. She was dressed in silks of gold and orange, much like the house she served. Appearing to be only a few years younger than yourself, she had a warm aura about her; it was the most kindness you’d experienced in some time. 

“I’m Asha,” she had taken a step back when noticed your hesitation and held her hand out instead. You gave her the best smile you could as you gingerly shook her hand, still wanting to tread lightly as you gave her your name, “I’m your handmaiden. I’ll be helping you with whatever you need.”

“Handmaiden?” surely this must be a joke. Back in Honeyholt you’d had maids and servants, surely, but never one that served you in such a personal manner. Perhaps this was one of the perks of marrying a prince, even if he was one by name only, “I’m quite sure that I can handle myself...I’m sorry, forgive me, I do not mean to be rude. I’ve just never had someone...”

“It’s quite alright,” she insisted, taking your hand and pulling you further into the palace. You tried to get a good look at everything, but there was so much going on all at once that it was hard to keep track of everything, “I’ll be here for whatever you need and should you decide you do not need me at all, then I will remain as your friend, if it pleases you.”

“Friend?” that was the last thing you expected. It something you both had and hadn’t thought much about in the past few weeks. You’d had friends in Honeyholt, less and less the older you became, when they turned into mere acquaintances, tending to the families they were growing, but you’d resigned yourself to a life of solitude in Dorne. You weren’t sure what to expect here; you didn’t think the people would be so welcoming for the stranger that came to marry their favorite prince. 

“Yes,” she gave you a dazzling grin, “like I said, if it pleases you. The prince wants to make sure you feel at home and that you’re comfortable.”

“He does?” you’d been there for such a short time, but already you’d experienced more twists and turns than you had expected.

“Of course,” she pulled you up a flight of marbled stairs and down a long hallway, stopping before a grand set of doors. They were beautiful, made of aged wood and intricately carved. You couldn’t stop yourself as you reached up and touched the carvings, letting your fingers glide over them, “ he’s traveled all over the seven kingdoms, the Summer Isles, Essos...so many different places. He understands better than anyone what it is like to be in a new, and often unwelcoming land. He wants you to know that this is your home too. The prince is very happy to have you here and finally meet you.”

“Huh,” you turned to her, searching her eyes for any signs of deception, but you found none. Her dark eyes were wide with excitement as she opened the door and revealed the beautiful interior of your personal quarters. It was a beautiful sight to behold, colorful furniture was strewn about, a large, soft bed with golden cloth over it, and open doors leading to a balcony that housed many plants. A soft breeze ruffled the curtains and rustled the leaves. This space, in the few moments you’d stared at it, felt more like a home than anything you had experienced.

“His quarters are on the opposite end of the hallway,” she explained and nudged her in the direction. Separate quarters, you thought to yourself, how strange, “he wanted to make sure you liked everything. If you’re unhappy with it or require anything else, just say the word and you will have it.”

“It’s beautiful,” you admitted, stepping into the space and taking a closer at everything, “Dorne is beautiful...I had not expected this much beauty in the desert lands. The way the Northern lords make it sound...it should be horrid and ugly. But it’s lovely.”

“There is so much in Dorne that they will never tell you about because they will not allow themselves to see the beauty in front of them. We know they see us as savages and heathens, we know what they say, but we are not as they claim. We are different, surely, but does not make us bad people simply because we do not share the same views and beliefs?” she asked as she started to drag in some of the small trunks containing your items. You shook your head with a small smile; no, surely it did not make them any less human. They were already a warmer people than any of the northerners you’d encountered.

Standing up and helping her, she looked at with you with a curious glance. You just carried on, not wanting to let her do all of the work; why should you?

“I can handle it, my lady,” she insisted, but you refused to back down. You repeated your name and insisted that she call you that, “even if you are to be the princess?”

“I take no joy or pride in hollow titles or unnecessary formalities,” you promised her, “you and I are not different are we? We’re both women, subject to the harsh reality of what that entails and the laws of the gods and men. I insist, please, that you call me by my given name. And I am more than capable of helping to unpack my own items. You musn’t do it all alone.

Asha gave you a big grin as she nodded, surprised by your genial approach. Those she had met from the lands north of Dorne would never dare to renounce a title so freely, or speak so candidly with her. But you did; Oberyn would like you, she thought to herself, “as you wish...I think you will like Dorne, it will suit you well. We do not believe that men hold any superior power over women, nor do we believe that women should be reduced to standing behind a man. Everyone is equal here, just as the gods willed it.”

“And yet here I am, to be married to a man I do not know and that does know me and give him an heir,” there was a slight tone of bitterness to your voice that you hadn’t quite intended. You sighed and shook your head in apology, knowing she had nothing to do with your fortune, “I’m sorry...I should not have lashed out at you.”

“It’s quite alright,” she insisted, “I know how it seems is harsh, but I assure you that not everything is as it seems. It must be shocking to come to a new home and be surrounded by only strangers, but I think you will be just fine; if nothing else you will provide a good wit to match Prince Doran.”

“Prince Doran?” you asked as she nodded, “and he is...”

“I dare they must have kept you quite in the dark about all of this,” you nodded as you allowed yourself to sit on the soft bed, testing it out and finding it just as soft as you liked, “Prince Doran is the ruler of Dorne, his oldest daughter Princess Arianne is his heir and Oberyn is his brother.” 

“Oh,” you felt silly, and a bit dumb not being privy to any of this information before. It didn’t surprise you though; your mother did not care for the Martells and it was unlikely that she knew much of this information herself, “I apologize for not being as well versed in your land and people as I should be.”

“There is no need,” she laid out some of your dresses, placing them in the closet that stood against the wall, “one thing you will need to learn is that in Dorne we do not apologize. There is no reason to ever apologize for one’s true self, right? You were not to know this information, so how should you have known? You will learn in time. It is your home now and we are your people.”

“How is that I already feel so much warmer and lighter here than I have in years in my own home, the place I was birthed?” you let out a small laugh in spite of yourself and stood back up, spying some fine silks draped over the chair that was placed in front of the small writing desk, “what are these?”

“Silks,” Asha watched your face turn into a small smile as you touched the delicate fabrics and studied the colors, “they’re a gift from -”

“The prince,” you finished for her and she just nodded with a smile.

“He had a feeling that you wouldn’t be well prepared for the heat and wanted to provide you with something more suitable,” you lifted a few pieces up, holding them against your body. They were lovely, designed and crafted with care and expert stitching, “he asked about your coloring to make sure they’d suit you. And of course, some of the Martell gold and orange had to be included.”

“They are wonderful...absolutely beautiful,” a small sense of satisfaction worked its way into your bones as you realized that your mother would absolutely abhor the clothing, declaring crude and too revealing. But you loved the pieces, knowing they’d be perfect for the hot afternoons and warm evenings you’d come to expect, “this prince...he’s very kind.”

“He can...rough around the edges, but underneath the exterior he presents, he is a most kind and gentle man. His people love him and he loves them as well,” she answered, and you could easily sense the admiration she had for him. Maybe...just maybe, if this prince proved to be as fair and just as Asha made him out to be, things wouldn’t be a complete nightmare, “he wanted to be here to greet you, but unfortunately his duties have kept him away a bit longer than he intended. He will be back in time for your wedding.”

Wedding. Of course. You had somehow forgotten that little detail; this was just some sort of vacation or leisure trip. This was a whole new life you were walking into.

“Oh,” you tried to hide the nervous lilt of voice, but Asha picked up on it anyway. For someone so young, she was very attuned to your emotions. She stood next to you and slowly, as if testing the waters, put an arm around your shoulders. This time, you let her. You let her pull you into  a hug and hold onto you tightly as you let your body relax into the comfort of her own. You were almost like clay, melting into her arms; it had been so long since you had experienced the touch of another. She smelled of fresh citrus and spices, a scent you already found comforting, “thank you, Asha. You have been more kind than I could have ever anticipated. It is not lost on me...I should be proud to consider you a friend.”

“And I you,” she insisted, you were quickly interrupted by a loud throat clear from the entrance to your new space. Your oldest brother, now the Lord of Honeyholt in your father’s absence, was standing there, an impatient look on his face. Asha pulled back and bowed her head in reverence, “my lord.”

“Come and make sure your goodbyes, sister,” he completely ignored Asha and turned his cold gaze to yours. Never having been close with any of your brothers, besides the youngest, you harbored no strong feelings for him. He was a fine man, a decent lord, but nothing compared to your father. The halls of Honeyholt were never the same since he sat at the head of the table, “we must leave soon to make it back before our visitors from the Crownlands come.”

“You just mean to leave me here,” it was not a question, but a cold statement of fact, “you do not intend to stay and watch me marry? It is only a short time away.”

“We do not have time,” he insisted already starting to walk away, “besides, what is there to celebrate? You’re married off far too late to...a Martell. Hardly calls for celebration.”

“Goodbye brother,” you called after him, not even bothering to follow and bid anyone else a farewell and a safe journey back, “if that is the way you feel, to leave your only sister thus, then so be it. I wish you, nor our brothers, nor mother any ill will, but I cannot say I will be amiss of any of you.”

“Watch your tongue,” he growled at you from the foot of the stairs, “you are lucky to be my sister or I would have you thrown out long ago. You taint our name and have no respect for decency. You’re just like father; weak and a fool. Always thinking without your brain.”

“So with my heart?” you spat at him, “how dare you take father’s name in vain! He’s more of a man, father, and lord than you will be ever be.”

“And look where that got him,” he reminded you of the harsh reality that your favorite person, the one that you had idolized growing up, was gone, “an early grave.”

“He was ill-”

“It does matter. I am lord now and you will obey me,” he shook his head, “you know, mother was smart to finally marry you off. At least you will be able to take the name of Martell and will stop bringing shame to ours. You are no sister of mine, you can join these...barbarians, become one of them,”

“If I see you again, it will be on your deathbed,” you insisted, feeling a tears of sheer anger roll down your cheeks, as your body trembled with frustration, “I guarantee it. You are no brother of mine.”

He glowered at you before turning around and storming off, his robes trailing behind him. You’d never shared a great appreciation or love for him, but this was a harsh blow nonetheless. Your family, the only one you’d ever know was so content to just cart you off. You wondered how long he had waited for this day - but it didn’t matter. Just like that you had no more home in Honeyholt. Sunspear, and Dorne, was your home now. Even if it was a life you did not desire, at least it would be your own. 

“I’m sorry,” Asha appeared at your side, a concerned expression on her face at the heated exchanged. You choked back the few sobs that threatened to bubble up in your throat. You’d essentially just lost the little bit of family you had, “I did not expect such a response. Family means much to Dornishmen, sweet dove. You will never have to feel alone or unloved here.”

“Thank you,” you gave her a small smile, “I hope my family does not dishonor Prince Doran. I have not even meet the man who is to be my brother and already I bring chaos.”

“Prince Doran would never hold the actions of them against you,” she promised, “he shall be glad to meet you and welcome you into his family. As will we all. I can show you around the palace, if you so desire, and the water gardens. They’re most beautiful, especially during the peak of heat, such as this.”

“Will I meet Prince Doran today?” you were curious about meeting your new family, albeit the tiniest bit hopeful. It could be no worse than what you had just experienced. 

“I’m afraid both princes will not return until tomorrow,” she explained, “however, they are preparing a feast in your honor for this evening. The Princess is here, and I am sure she will be delighted to meet you. She’s a brilliant combination of her father and uncle, and will surely revel in your company, she grows bored of monotony.”

»»————-　♡　————-««

Dinner had been an...interesting affair. You’d gotten to meet the princess, her mother, and many other members of the household and those who worked for and were dear to the Martells - to your family. It was a shocking contrast to the normally reserved and quiet meals that were had in the dreary dining hall of your former home. 

The large tables in the garden were laden with delicious foods from all of Dorne, including the famed Dornish wine and everyone sat together, it did not matter their rank, station, or title. They were happy, kind, and jovial, welcoming you with open arms to Sunspear and their family. It was a warmth you had not known before, but not unwelcome. It was a sight to see everyone so happy, joking and laughing, teasing each other until late into the night; they had no reservations, no fears, no inhibitions. And you loved that about them immediately. 

Your heart had almost stopped when the princess had presented you with a beautiful golden bracelet, containing the Martell sun entwined with the little dove of your own house. She had gently clasped it around your wrist, before kissing your cheeks gently. You would think of her, her generosity and warmth whenever you wore it. 

But even the excitement and relief that the evening had provided was not enough to stave off the tears that found you late in the evening as you sat on the balcony connected to your quarters. You’d been studying the starry night sky, admiring how it glittered over the red dunes of the desert, when you were hit with a wave of sadness that you couldn’t ward of. A few hot, warm, salty tears dripped down your cheeks as you slowly repeated the names of the constellations you could see, stopping only when a small knock came at your door. 

You dabbed at your eyes and turned around to see who the visitor was, but Arianne slowly let herself in. You gave her a small smile and she joined you on the balcony, without a word, but a gentle hand on your shoulder.

“I am sorry that you must see me in such a state,” you apologized but she shook her head. She was about to open her mouth, but you stopped her with a small smile, already knowing what she was going to say, “do not apologize for being your true self.”

“Yes,” she agreed with a small laugh, rich and musical, “see you’re learning already - you’ll fit in perfectly.”

You remained silent for a moment and let out a long sigh.

“What plagues you so?” she asked gently, “besides the loss of your family?”

“Today has proven it is no real loss,” you admitted, “I am...I do not know if I can do this.”

“Marry my uncle?”

“Yes,” you said quietly, “I vowed to myself that I would never marry someone I did not love, and I know this sounds silly, but my father, before his death, always promised me that he would never send me off to do so unless I desired it. And now...”

“It is not easy.”

“No,” you sighed, a fresh wave of tears rolled down your cheeks, “I cannot bring myself to love someone just because I am required to, nor have a desire to be treated as a sow to be used for heirs. I do not know if I can do this, to myself or your uncle.”

“I realize this is very little consolation, but I do think I might know how you to help, if only a small bit,” she had your attention and you gave her a curious glance, “think of it as a marriage only in name.”

“Only in name?”

“Precisely,” she explained, “you will marry Oberyn, and that will the end of it. You do not owe him an heir and he would never expect one from you. He has eight daughters already, some nearing your age, and he loves them dearly. They keep him busy and if you do not desire children he would never force one on you. You do not have to love him, he knows you likely never will, but just respect him; for outside purposes you will be husband and wife, but behind closed doors, and to those here in Dorne, who not care about such things, it will not matter.”

“Oh?”

“Give it some time and you will find a lover, a man or a woman, or many lovers,” she explained, “love should not be contained so willfully, unless two people desire it. you are free to explore and take as lovers as you want. You give and take love.”

“Oberyn...has a lover,” why you suddenly felt shy, you did not know. Certainly it could not be jealousy? You did not know him nor care for him, and clearly did not love him, but something inside you panged slightly. How strange it would be to be married to a man with a different lover.

“He had a lover, a paramour by the name of Ellaria Sand,” she explained and you found yourself intrigued, “she’s a most kind, generous and lovely woman, and mother to four of his daughters. She is beautiful as she is kind and still comes around often, but she has left his bed sometime ago and has returned to her childhood home in Helholt.”

“Oh?” you wondered if it had anything to do with you, but you had your doubts. What power would you, a mere child compared to his longtime lover hold? 

“It was amicable, I believe. They remain friends, and both love their daughters deeply. I think a strong bond and love remains between them, but nothing romantic,” she expanded, but it did not ease your nerves, “I’m sure you will meet her at some point, she comes around not infrequently, but you have nothing to worry about. She will love you, as we already do as well. She will understand what your position as Oberyn’s wife means.”

“Does he take other lovers still?” 

“As far as I know,” she shrugged, not deeply concerned with her uncle’s affairs, “anything further than that you will have to discuss among yourselves.”

“I see,” you let out a long sigh and let your shoulders slump, finding little solace in her words. She was trying her best, but it did not chase away all your fears, “still I...”

“Remember,” she said softly, “name only. You will not have be with him, in his presence, any more than you desire. He will grant you many liberties and freedoms. The ways things work between a husband and wife are very different here in Dorne than in the North. You will not be confined to the palace or your husband, you will have your own voice here.”

“Such a strange concept,” you mused as she shrugged, “all my life I’ve been told that my only goal in life is to behave, marry a nobleman, and bear him children. Nothing more and nothing less.”

“Welcome to Dorne, sweet dove,” Arianne pressed a light kiss to the side of your head, before moving to leave your chambers, leaving you alone with your thoughts, “and welcome to House Martell.”

You watched her go without another word, envying her easy going personality and liveliness. She’s known this her whole life, and yet she was so happy; maybe there was something to this Dornish way of life. Maybe you could find some purchase here and make a happy little life for yourself. With or without your husband at your side. 

You straightened up and stretched, raising your arms above your head as you looked at the moon, shining among the stars. Maybe...this did not have to be as bad as you had originally thought; maybe Dorne could be your own sanctuary. Your head was swimming with so many thoughts, and you were overwhelmed with a tiredness you had not known in ages. You walked back into your bedchamber, leaving the doors open to let in the warm evening breeze. It was quiet now, a quiet that you’d never really experience. Peaceful.

Oberyn watched you moved back inside from his spot in the courtyard of the palace. He and Doran had returned early, at his behest, but not early enough for a proper introduction. He been curious to meet his bride, the wild girl from the North that refused to be tamed. He had overheard you and Arianne, listening intently to your every word, clinging on to them to try and figure out how to best serve you. He wanted you to be happy, he hoped you would be, and if you wanted nothing to do with him, then he would respect that as well. 

Whatever you desired, Oberyn Martell was going to make sure you had it. 

»»————-　♡　————-««

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[ressyfaerie]

Dark Tyson fic; during G-Rev, Tyson snaps from stress and feelings of abandonment and joins Team BEGA. (Bonus points for Brooklyn getting close to Tyson to make Kai jealous. Black Dragoon optional, or maybe Boris gives him Black Dranzer...?!)

I saved the best for last. 

I am a big fan of dark Tyson- love it. I’ve been thinking of this prompt for DAYS. I’m very excited to write this- as you know I am the angst queen. For the sake of this fic, g-rev timelines are going to be confusingly switched around, just because it makes more sense for the fic, and also- I’ve forgotten some important plot points and dont have the time to rewatch g-rev LMAO. Anything in * can be Tyson’s or Kai’s private thoughts! 

So I finished writing this, and it's LONG. so I’ve actually uploaded it to archive first, because reading it on tumblr seems like a chore and a half, so here’s the archive link: 

https://archiveofourown.org/works/30739397/chapters/75866906

It came out to 50 pages, and it’s 5 chapters on archive. 

And here’s the first ‘chapter’ of the fic: 

So here we go:

It was odd to see Kenny angry. 

He tossed his laptop to the side, picking up spare bey parts in his hand. 

“Kenny! I’m just saying- What are our chances? Without everyone else, we’re useless as a team-”

“I’ve been working so hard Tyson…” Kenny shook in anger, beside him. Hilary tried to place her hand on his shoulder to comfort him, but he shook her off. 

“How could you say we’re useless?! When we’ve been trying so hard!?” 

“It’s not enough! You know me and Diachi can’t work together-” 

From the corner of the room, Diachi screeched, “Hey loser! I’m right here!” 

“I know, you shitty little cherry tomato!” 

Hilary tried to be the mediator, “Tyson, are you sure that’s how you really feel?” 

Tyson nodded, “Our team has no hope. Now with BEGA taking over everything we can’t even get any parts, it’s useless-” 

“How could you say that Tyson!” Kenny yelled louder than he ever had in his life, “You’re the one who’s supposed to be uplifting us! You’re the leader-” 

“I don’t want to be a leader! We had a leader remember? And a coach?” 

“You can’t give up!” Kenny begged and shook with anger, Tyson felt horrible, he knew Kenny had been working so hard, but they had lost too much, he felt there was no hope of recovery. 

“Throw out your research Kenny, we’re done.” Tyson stared at the wooden floorboards of the dojo, completely defeated. 

“AaaaH!” Kenny had launched himself forward- landing a strong right hook on Tyson’s cheek. 

Tyson fell backwards, landing on his side and quickly sitting up to rub his cheek, “What the hell Kenny!?” 

Kenny was furious, “you can throw away everything we’ve worked for if you want! Telling me to throw away *my* research?! You need to get yourself together Tyson!” 

Tyson was left speechless, Hilary nodded, agreeing with Kenny, “if we’re going to defeat BEGA we need a Tyson who can hold himself together.” 

“You’re heads messed up dude,” Diachi remarked, “We can’t work with you until you fix yourself.” 

Tyson could feel the anger radiate through his body, “if you guys think I’m so messed up then maybe I should just leave!?” 

“Then go.” Kenny hissed through clenched teeth. 

“Fine! Good luck with hopper-” Tyson slammed his hands on the floor throwing himself to his feet, “Your beyblade that fucking hops- Beyblades aren’t supposed to hop Kenny!” 

He slid open the shoji doors fast, and threw them closed, rattling the old dojo like an earthquake. Outside in the gardens, he cursed. 

“Tyson?” 

Hearing his grandpa’s voice behind him, he aggressively swung his body in his direction, “What is it Gramps? I’m not in the mood-” 

“What’s going on with you and your friends?” 

“Friends!?” Tyson spat. 

“Oh no... Tyson-” Ryu shook his head. 

“What? What is it? Is it something wrong with me?” Tyson’s whole body was stationary, emanating white anger.

“Your friends didn’t leave you to hurt you.” 

“Not my friends- Friends don’t betray each other to go to different teams.” 

“You *know* they didn’t betray you.” 

“Then tell me why Kai went to BEGA.” 

Grandpa stayed silent, he didn’t have a good reason why Kai went to BEGA, and no one knew why. 

“I’m sure like Max and Ray, he just wanted to fight you again.” 

“And Hiro?” 

“He wanted to train stronger opponents for you-” 

Tyson suddenly laughed, “he could have trained *me*.” 

Ryu placed his hands in front of him, trying to calm his grandson down from a distance. 

His Grandpa was more serious than he had been in years. 

“He could have- I know it wasn’t the best thing for Hiro to do, but- he did it because he loves you.” 

“Okay Grandpa, you have an answer for everything huh? Then answer me this- where’s my dad?” 

The garden turned ice cold. 

“I’m sure he’s around Tyson-”

“Does he not have a TV? Or a post office? How can he sit in some country, and not see what is happening to his own son!?” Tyson’s voice bellowed through the courtyard. 

“I don’t know Tyson- he loves you.” 

“No he doesn’t- It seems no one does-” Tyson was holding back angry sobs. 

Ryu took a step forward, “Tyson I-” 

“No!” Tyson screamed and threw his hand in front of him to keep him back, “stay away from me!” 

The doors to the dojo opened, no doubt his make-shift team coming to see the commotion. 

“You guys stay away from me too!” Tyson grasped his head and scratched his nails into his scalp, “Everyone just- stay away from me.” 

No one could say anything, Tyson glanced around at the quiet group, “what? Are you guys afraid of me now or something?” 

“Tyson, you need to calm down-” Ryu tried. 

“No? Don’t tell me to calm down!-” Tyson took a step backwards, trying desperately to flee the situation, then it occurred to him- he could. 

Tyson stared down the gravel beneath his feet, the world felt blurry, and in that moment his vision flashed red, he turned away running at full pace through the yard, and out the gates, flying down the street as he heard his only paternal figure and teammates calling for him. 

Down the road, over a bridge, along the ocean, towards the river. 

The sun was setting now, twilight was blanketing the world. 

At the top of the riverbank he began to head towards the river, not knowing why. He slipped on the smooth grass landing on his back and groaning in pain. 

He placed his hands over his face and cried. 

He sobbed for everything- everything he lost, his friend’s, his reputation, his spirit. 

He pulled himself off the grass and shoved his head in between his knees, still crying. Anger, sadness, regret, he felt it all at once. It was eating him from the inside out.

He let out a frustrated scream while jabbing his fingertips into his biceps, trying desperately to turn to dust, to become one with the earth. 

He didn’t hear the footsteps approach him. 

“I would ask if you’re okay- but I know the answer.” 

“Whoever you are- Just leave me alone- please.” Tyson buried his head further into his knees. 

He felt someone sit beside him, the grass crunched under their weight.

“Everyone’s left you.” 

“I know that-” Tyson could barely make out the words. 

“They left you for better teams, brighter pastures… You must think you’re not good enough for them.”

Tyson shook his head. 

“You are. You’re better than all of them, probably better than all of them combined.” 

 Those words made Tyson perk his head up, wondering who his savior tonight could possibly be. 

The purple hair stood out first, he wore a compassionate smile. 

Tyson locked eyes with his arch-enemy but made no effort to change his expression.

 “You’re allowed to be sad- and angry.” 

Tyson became more frustrated, *why is it out of everyone I know, the evilest person tells me what I need to hear?*

Boris had an interesting voice. Tyson tried to dissect the tone, but he could only detect… Affection. 

“What are you going to do now… World champion?”

Tyson felt his body go numb at the comment, so much was expected of him, but he had no way of accomplishing any of it. 

Tyson tried to inhale before answering, a cough got stuck in his throat, and he answered in a hoarse voice, “I’m not sure.” 

Boris continued smiling, he stared at the orange sun, just about to disappear under the horizon, “Do you want to show your friends how capable you are?” 

Tyon managed to hold his head up for a moment, he slowly nodded. 

“Good for you.” 

His words seemed to calm him down against his will. 

Tyson mumbled, “I won’t join BEGA.”  

“I’m not asking you to. But I do have everything you need to arm yourself. Parts, training rooms, places to sleep, all the food you could ask for” 

Tyson shook his head. 

“No strings attached. Come see my training facilities tonight, if you don’t want to be there, you can leave.”  

Tyson felt cold, the shadow of the setting sun crept over them, an ominous darkness crawled over his face, then Boris’. 

“Or would you rather go back to your home tonight?” 

Boris made a point. Tyson had no intention of going home tonight, but he had nowhere to stay. 

His eyes darted back and forth, deep in thought. 

Boris pushed himself off the ground and stepped to the top of the hill. 

On the road next to them, a fancy car.  

The purple-haired man opened the passenger door and gestured with his hand. Tyson gave him a blank stare. 

“Come on, world champ.” He emphasized the last words just right- reminding Tyson how much was on his back, “what’ll it be?” 

Tyson’s brain wasn’t working, logical thought was too much to process. What he did know was- he didn’t want to sit on this riverbank crying the rest of the night. 

Boris waited, for minutes, holding the door open. 

Tyson sniffed, he rubbed his nose with his forearm, crawled to his knees, and pushed himself off the ground. 

“Good job, champion.” Boris grinned, giving him the unnecessary compliment. 

Tyon was beside him now, he rested his fingertips on the top of the car door, feeling the cold black metal under his nails. 

“It’ll be warmer inside when I turn on the heat,” Boris reassured Tyson, inspecting his skin, covered in goosebumps from the cold.

“O...kay…” 

Tyson crawled into the passenger seat weakly.

He did turn on the heat. The heated seats warmed Tyson’s whole body. He watched the street lamps roll past as he hunched into the leather. 

Boris drove like an old man- but also a maniac. Driving the speed limit, but taking turns at the same speed. 

The BEGA building towered over the whole city. They pulled into a parking garage, the gates rose with Boris’ presence. 

After parking in a special stall, Boris turned off the car and climbed out, he walked to Tyson’s side opening the door for him. Tyson didn’t have the energy to complain that he could have done it himself, and instead, followed the older man to a specific elevator. 

They rode the elevator in silence.

When the door opened, Boris walked ahead, Tyson followed cautiously. 

Inside another heavy metal door was darkness, Boris flicked a switch and the lights invaded the room. 

The room was filled with dirt and boulders, in the center, a beydish carved into the earth. 

 “This room was made to be destroyed,” Boris explained. 

Tyson pushed his hands into his pocket, caressing Dragoon with his hand. 

“You’re welcome to destroy it- if you’d like.” 

Tyson still felt emotion linger in his chest, the frustration was killing him, it was a tempting offer, but he knew if he wrecked his blade in the process, he had no way of fixing it. 

“I’m not recording, I’m not analyzing you, I’ll just step back. You do what you need to do.” 

Tyson pulled out his launcher and loaded Dragoon, he directed his launch to a rock.

“AAAUUGH!” Tyson roared as he put all his anger into letting go. 

Dragoon split the rock clean through with ease, the two halves crashing to the ground. 

Tyson continued to scream and throw his hands giving Dragoons orders at a lighting pace. The room was soon covered in dust from the obliterated rocks, while sand rolled over the floor. 

Tyson was holding his chest, trying to get air into his lungs with fast painful breaths, he realized the amount of air he needed wasn’t arriving, so he continued to destroy the room. 

After all the rocks were annihilated, he fell to his knees. He was out of tears, his eyes were wide open. As he witnessed the destroyed room under his body, Boris began to clap. 

“Bravo! Amazing, spectacular! A performance only one person in the whole world could accomplish!” 

Dragoon obediently arrived at Tyson’s knees, he picked him up and inspected him. 

*Trashed. I’m sorry Dragoon.*

He shoved him safely back into his pocket. 

“Fantastic job, Tyson.” Boris was in front of him now, holding out his hand to help him up. 

Tyson wanted to refuse, but his legs were like jelly, he grasped his hand using it as his crutch. 

“You must be thirsty after a performance like that! Come- I have a room prepared.” 

Tyson found himself in an extremely fancy penthouse. Extravagant food was laid out on a table with every kind of drink next to it. 

Boris had gestured to a couch telling him to sit down, when he did, the soft plush absorbed him. The comfort felt amazing on his aching muscles. 

“What do you want to drink, champion?” Boris popped open a wine bottle and poured himself a glass. 

Tyson watched him cautiously, he had never seen an adult drink alcohol so casually in front of him- he was underage after all. 

“Do you want some of this?” Boris gestured to his crystal glass and grinned. 

“No- Just water, thanks.” 

“Any food?” Boris asked as he handed him a glass of cold water from the table. 

Tyson accepted it and began to drink, he stopped for a moment, “not hungry.” 

“You’ve been through a lot tonight, that’s understandable.”

Tyson took another worried sip, “Yeah.” Tyson’s eyes darted side to side.

“You must be wondering about the room?” 

“Is this your place?” Tyson took a good look at the penthouse this time. 

“Actually, it was supposed to be yours, when I finally convinced you to join BEGA, but-” Boris took a sip of his wine, “it seems like that just isn’t going to happen.” 

Tyson felt a wave of exhaustion fall over him. He felt like he had been hit by a truck. 

“Let me show you around,” Boris suggested. 

Tyson decided to follow, he needed to get off the couch before he fell asleep. 

He showed him the kitchen, balcony, hot tub, fireplace, and finally the bedroom. 

“King Size bed, very comfortable, you can lay down if you want.” 

Tyson could sense his eyes closing, it had been a long day, he had never felt this tired, even after training all night. 

Boris sat on the edge of the bed, patting the spot beside him. Without questioning, Tyson was sitting beside him too. 

“It’s okay to rest sometimes. Have you ever seen a champion win on fumes?” 

“I have.” Tyson tried to grin, but failed. 

“Go to sleep Tyson.” 

“No- not here.” 

Boris took his empty water glass out of his hand- he gently pushed his shoulder, Tyson collapsed backwards into the bed. 

“Sleep.”

[theladyofdeath]

The Ranch {14}

An A Court of Thorns and Roses, Nesta x Cassian, Modern AU, fanfiction.

Collaboration: @snelbz​ x @tacmc​

Summary: Nesta had spent years in Paris, living her dream and drowning in riches as a gourmet chef, capturing the hearts of the city and its people. But, after her father passes away unexpectedly and leaves his cozy, countryside B&B to his oldest daughter, Nesta is moving back home to the tiny town of Velaris, where the ranch, her sisters, and her father’s unfulfilled dream, awaits.

Sidenote: Being posted between two blogs, it is too chaotic to keep up with a tags list, so all chapters will be tagged with “#TheRanchNessian” & “#SharaCollab”.

The Ranch Masterlist

When Cassian woke up the next morning, Nesta was gone. She was probably off doing one of the many things on her ridiculously long list, and it was probably wise that she left before he woke up because he would’ve tried to guilt her into staying again. 

He’d slept well, but the meds had definitely worn off. He popped a pill into his mouth and washed it down with a water bottle before pulling himself out of bed and hauling himself into the bathroom.

He looked in the mirror and groaned. He looked like shit, which wasn’t a surprise cause he felt like shit. He brushed his teeth and washed his face, all one handed, and then came his hair.

After a couple of attempts - way more than he was willing to admit - it was tied at the back of his head, but now came the part he definitely could not do on his own. He tossed a pair of jeans and a t-shirt on the bed, followed by some socks. Getting his sweats off was no problem, but as he tried to step into his jeans, stumbling, he sighed and sat down on the bed.

“Grown ass man and I have to sit down to put my pants on,” he mumbled, doing just that. He went ahead and put the socks on, then stood and glared at the shirt, knowing he wasn’t going to be able to put that one on by himself. He grabbed it, tossing it over his shoulder. He sighed, imagining how hard Nesta was going to laugh when he had to ask her to help him get dressed. At least he’d get to see that look she gets whenever she saw his abs. Cassian whistled, slipping his phone into his pocket and heading into the living room. No sign of Beau.

Stepping into his boots, he muttered, “Damn woman even has my dog wrapped around her finger.”

He stepped out onto the porch, sun on his bare chest, and made his way up to the main house. He’d go down and get some stuff from his cabin that afternoon, and take the truck to check on the herd, but he’d take it easy. Doctor’s orders.

He climbed the back steps and entered the kitchen. Nesta wasn’t there, which he was half hoping, as he was starving, but he could hear her talking in the living room.

He walked towards the front of the house, saying, “Baby, I need you to gimme a hand.”

He entered the room and found Nesta sitting on the couch, pen and paper in hand. Her back was to him so she was turned around to stare at him, eyes wide in horror. There was a young woman with red hair sitting on the other end, mouth hanging open.

Nesta quickly got to her feet. “Maggie, this is Cassian. Cassian, this is Maggie, she’s here to talk about helping out with the B&B.”

Cassian’s ears burned. “Nice to meet you. Nesta, can we…” He trailed off and pointed to the kitchen.

She said, “Yes, absolutely. Maggie, I’m so sorry, I’ll be right back.”

He headed into the kitchen and she followed him. Cass kept his voice low as he said, “You never told me you had any inquiries, you just posted the ad yesterday.”

“I know, but Maggie called this morning, and was available to talk right away, so I told her to head on over.” Nesta paused and added, “Wait, I texted you all of this.”

Cassian pulled out his phone and looked down at the screen. Indeed, he did have a slew of notifications, with no less than four text messages from Boss. He winced. “My bad, sweetheart.”

Nesta rolled her eyes at his stupid contact name for her and said, “It’s okay.” She raised up on her toes and kissed him. “How’d you sleep?”

“Hard. I don’t remember waking up all night. Hurting this morning though. I took my meds, I wanted to run down and take a look at the herd. And I’m not gonna do anything, so get that look off of your face,” he added, seeing her eyebrows already raising. “I just won’t be able to take it easy until I see with my own two eyes that they're taken care of. But because I’m such a hero and I took a bullet for my best friend, I’m having trouble putting my shirt on. Think I can get some help?”

She let her forehead fall into her hand. “Oh my god, why do I love you?”

He laughed and said, “I love you, too.”

After he sat in one of the chairs, she helped him get the sling off. She awkwardly pulled the shirt on him, one arm at a time and then over his head. “Rhys said he’d come over after lunch to clean that for you,” Nesta said, helping him refasten the sling around his neck and Cass nodded, grateful he had a friend who was not only able to help out but also willing. “Oh, and the new ranch hand is out feeding the horses, if you want to go introduce yourself.” She pressed a kiss to his cheek and started to walk back to the living room.

He was on his feet instantly. “The new- you hired a ranch hand? Without me? Shouldn’t I have been a part of this?”

She looked at him over her shoulder and said “It’s my ranch, and I think you’ll find I made a great decision.” She winked and he heard her talking with Maggie once again.

Cassian was still sitting dumbfounded in the kitchen. He was tempted to yell WHAT THE FUCK but figured Maggie was a nice, young girl who didn’t need to be corrupted with his shocked curses.

“Damn you woman,” he muttered, pulling himself to a standing position and heading out the back door. The meds were finally starting to kick in as he stumbled down the porch steps and into his truck.

After starting the engine, he headed down to the stables. Sure enough, a tall figure dressed in jeans, an old tee shirt, and a backwards ball cap was leaned up against the fence outside of the stables, watching the horses meander about in the pasture.

Cassian threw open the door and got out, slamming it behind him, but the second the man turned around, all weariness and frustration Cassian had from Nesta hiring a ranch hand without him faded away.

He halted, a few feet away from the fence. After blinking a few times, he asked, “What the fuck are you doing here?”

Azriel chuckled and said, “I thought she was kidding when she said she hadn’t told you.”

Cassian was staring at his brother not knowing how to respond to that. “I have no idea what’s going on.”

Az shook his head. “I decided the dealership wasn’t a good fit. I thought I liked the mechanical side of ranching, but I was wrong. Elain was texting with Nesta last night and she mentioned y’all could use a hand around here, so.” He lifted his arms and indicated himself. “Here I am.”

“You’re the new ranch hand,” Cassian said, slowly, as if he still didn’t believe the words.

“Seem to be,” Azriel said.

“Here? At this ranch?”

“Unless I’m at the wrong one,” Azriel said, laughing.

Cassian’s mouth broke into a slow grin. “You know this means that you’re, like, my assistant, right?”

Azriel was shaking his head. “I don’t think so.”

“Fuck yeah,” Cassian grinned. The smile on his face matched the relief he felt inside.

He and Azriel hopped in the truck and went out into the back pasture, making sure nothing looked out of the ordinary.

“So,” Cass began. “Woke up to a visit from the cops yesterday morning.”

Azriel raised his eyebrows. “They came here? They didn’t just call?”

Cassian shook his head. “Nope, damn near gave Nes a heart attack. Asked all the generic questions, tried to make this about one of us instead of about Tamlin being a jealous piece of shit with a grudge.”

“I assume you’ll be testifying, too?” Azriel asked.

He nodded. “Yeah, Monday. Are you?”

“Yeah, since I’m the one who took off after him, they need me to recreate my steps for the jury.” Azriel rolled his eyes. “As if us and everyone at that wedding didn’t hear what he said, as if there’s any defense for him.”

Cassian shrugged, wincing slightly. “If it gets him locked up for longer, I’m on board.”

Az looked at his oldest friend. “How are you?”

“Sore,” Cassian said, and when Azriel snorted, Cassian went on. “Looks worse than it is. Nesta worries too much.”

Azriel blinked. “You got a bullet half an inch from your heart, Cass.”

“That’s what I keep hearing,” he mumbled. “I can’t just sit on my ass all day, though, I’d lose my shit. I’m already losing my shit.” Az just stared at him. “Look, I’m gonna be taking it easy, but I can’t just do nothing. You know how I am. But I’m trying for Nesta and for the baby.”

“God, that’s still…insane.” Azriel took his hat off and ran a hand through it. “You’re gonna be a dad. Good luck.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Cassian looked at him from the side.

Azriel raised an eyebrow. “Do you remember what we were like as children?”

Cass looked around them, at the land, the animals, the buildings on the property. “Oh gods, there’s way too many things for them to destroy.”

Azriel laughed. “You’ll be fine, man.” He gently rested his hand on Cassian’s good shoulder. “I’m happy for you.”

“Thanks.” Cass smiled. “So when the hell are you going to make an honest woman out of Elain? Or, are you gonna knock her up, too?”

Azriel groaned, covering his face. “Nesta’s not even been pregnant a week and Elain is asking when I want to have babies.”

“Elain would be a great mom,” Cassian countered.

“True,” Azriel agreed, “but I'm okay with waiting. For a while. A long time. Years.”

Cassian chuckled. “Years?”

“I haven’t even asked her to marry me yet,” Azriel said, as if that answered everything.

“But you’re going to,” Cassian said, and before Azriel could respond, he went on, “And if you don’t, I’m asking for you, because she’s a peach.”

Azriel gave him a rare, full-fledged grin. “She’s perfect.” 

“So, you’re asking soon, then?” Cassian asked.

Azriel groaned, once more. “Is this what working with you is going to be like? You constantly butting into my personal life?”

Cassian blinked, then slowly looked over at Azriel. “It’s my job to be the center of your personal life.”

“The center?” Azriel asked, brows raised.

“Obviously,” Cassian said. “There’s Elain, and me, and Rhys. We are the center of your world, so I must know what’s going on with the other two involved, obviously.”

“You’re ridiculous,” Azriel said, shaking his head, but he was still smiling, so Cassian figured he was doing his job well.

He glanced at his watch. “Speaking of my pregnant girlfriend, it’s lunchtime, I’m starving and she’s literally a gourmet chef. So let’s go.”

Azriel laughed. “Alright, I’ll drive. You’re not supposed to and you know it.”

Cass didn’t deny it.

When they pulled up in front of the house, Nesta was on the front porch, standing on a ladder and watering a plant hanging from the ceiling. Cassian was instantly out of the cab. “Babe, be careful.”

“I swear to the Cauldron, if you spend the next seven months telling me to be careful, I’m going to lose my shit.”

“And what does that entail?” Cassian asked. “Losing your shit?”

“Kicking you in the ass,” Nesta said, “Obviously.” 

Cassian scoffed. “And you would do that? To someone who's just been shot?”

Nesta rolled her eyes then looked to Azriel. “Can you control him?”

“That’s your job now,” Azriel said.

“Can’t argue with that,” she sighed, climbing down the ladder. “You guys hungry? Lunch is going to be ready soon.”

Cass winked at Az and said, “We could eat. Anything we can work on for you while you’re cooking?”

She turned and looked at him. “Are you trying to trick me into letting you work?”

Cassian raised his good hand in defense. “No, of course not, just offering.”

Nesta rolled her eyes again. “Come on.”

The men followed Nesta in and into the kitchen.

Azriel took a deep breath and groaned. “Smells so good, Nes.”

“Five cheese lasagna, salad and garlic bread.” She said it so matter-of-factly and not like it was a dish that used to be sold at a five-star restaurant.

Azriel whistled. “You made all that for lunch?”

“We eat good around here,” Cassian said, sitting in a chair at the table. 

Nesta chuckled as she pulled the lasagna out of the oven, where it was keeping warm. She continued to take out a few plates and filled them for the three of them.

“No nausea today?” Cassian asked.

Nesta shrugged, cutting up the lasagna. “I was, but then the baby started craving lasagna, so here we are.”

“The baby has good taste,” Azriel muttered.

Cassian was quick to agree.

They sat down and ate. Nesta explained to the guys what she wanted done before the opening and Cass ran through his daily tasks with Az. The three of them knew there would be no issue, but it was good to go ahead and start fresh.

“So later on, when you get to the weird part of your pregnancy,” Azriel began, while Nesta loaded their plates into the dishwasher. “When you have random cravings, are you going to make crazy concoctions or just go straight for the pickles and ice cream?”

She laughed. “I don’t know, but I hope it’s easy. So far, I’ve been craving food from other regions that aren’t so easy to make. I don’t exactly want to have to ask Cassian to make me tarte tatin at three in the morning.”

Cassian was eating his second helping and with his mouth full said, “Me either, cause I have no idea what the hell that is.”

Nesta laughed, looking at him over her shoulder. “How did I end up with you?”

He shrugged, stuffing his mouth full with another bite. “Your guess is as good as mine.”

Nesta just shook her head as she explained, “It’s a pastry.”

Cassian blinked, swallowing his food. “I like pastries. I could learn to make a pastry.”

Nesta closed the dishwasher and leaned back against the counter as she looked at Cassian. “The day I see you working in a kitchen is the day that the world ends.”

“Challenge accepted,” he muttered, mouth full of food, once more.

Azriel blinked, shaking his head as he watched Cassian stuff his face. “You really are a slob.”

“Fuck you,” he said, after a drink of water.

Azriel stood, ruffling his hair, and said, “No, thanks, bud. I’m gonna run into town and go pick up my pressure washer. I’m gonna take care of the stables.”

Nesta turned. “Az, no, you don’t have to do-.”

He stopped by her at the counter. “I do. You two have been through enough. Consider it my hazing so this asshole doesn’t do something worse when he’s back in action.” He hooked a thumb back at Cassian.

“Fuck you,” Cass repeated, though this time he was laughing, as he carried his plate to the sink. “I had something planned too.”

Ignoring him, Nesta said, “Thank you, Az. That means so much.”

She hugged him and he said, “That’s what family does, they help each other out. My brother and sister need me. That’s what I’m here to do.” He stepped back and looked at Cass. “I would hug you, but I genuinely don’t know how to do that without hurting you, so…” He shot him finger guns and then he was out the door.

Cass chuckled, shaking his head. “For someone so smart, he’s such a dumbass.”

Nesta laughed. Azriel was the only one of the three of them that she’d remotely remembered. He was an honors student, like she’d been, and they’d shared classes, but likewise to Nesta, Az kept to himself as well. It wasn’t until a drunken night at Rita’s, when Azriel was telling the story of the one time he’d been caught cheating, and Nesta realized it was her test he’d been cheating off of.

An almost sibling like bond was born between them that night and Nesta was glad she was getting to know him better. It let her know that Elain was in good hands.

“Alright,” Cassian sighed, looking at Nesta. “What can I do?”

“Relax,” Nesta ordered.

“I don’t want to relax,” he shot back. “I want to feel useful. Make me feel useful.”

“Be useful while relaxing,” she said, leaving the kitchen.

He followed close behind. “Babe, I need a job. Okay? Any job will do.”

“You’ve only been resting for a day,” Nesta said, laughing, making her way back out to the front porch.

“My pain meds work great,” he argued. “Let me help. Please.”

“You’re not going to give up, are you?” she asked, looking at her line up of hanging plants.

“No. I’m going to annoy the shit out of you, so you may as well let me help,” he said, staring her down.

She turned to meet his gaze, then rolled her eyes. “Fine. Hand me plants.”

Cassian blinked. “That’s my job? Handing you plants?”

“I’m going up on the ladder and it will help if you hand them to me,” Nesta shot back, arms crossed. “Or, you can go back to relaxing.”

Cassian took a deep breath. “Handing you plants, it is.”

One after one, Cassian picked the plants up and handed them to her, and she packed each into soil.

“So,” he began, doing his best not to stare at her ass. “I know you never thought you’d be in this situation, but are there any names you like?”

“Any names?” she repeated, making sure the plant was perfect before climbing back down the ladder and moving it to the next spot.

Cassian snorted. “For the baby.”

Nesta thought about it for a moment as she climbed up the ladder, once more. “I have a list.”

“A long list?” Cassian asked, handing her another hanging plant pot.

“A decent list,” she said, chuckling, taking the plant from him and hanging it up from the hook. She asked for the watering can.

“What’s your number one name?” he asked. “If it’s a boy.”

“I’ve always loved the name Jameson,” she said, watering the plant and climbing back down.

“Jameson,” Cassian mused. “I like Jameson.”

Nesta wrapped her arms around Cassian’s waist. “What about you? Any family names?”

His eyes dimmed slightly. “I don’t have anyone I would name him after.”

Nesta breathed, “Oh, baby, I’m so sorry, I- shit, I’m sorry.”

He smiled and kissed her. “I promise it’s fine. I actually do have one name I like though.”

“Yeah?” She asked. “What’s that?”

He brushed her hair back and said, “Isaac.” Nesta’s eyes welled up with tears. “Is that okay?”

She nodded, closing her eyes and carefully resting her head on his chest. “Isaac Jameson Nazari.”

Cassian blinked. “You… You want to give him my last name?”

“Of course,” Nesta said, “You’re his father.”

“I just…” Cassian began, but his words fell short. “You don’t know how much that means to me.”

Nesta smiled, her hand resting softly against his cheek as she said, “We’re going to be a family, right?”

“Yes,” Cassian breathed.

“Then this baby, no matter it’s gender, or it’s name, will be a Nazari,” she whispered.

Cassian took a deep breath. “If you make me cry, I won’t feel bad about kicking your ass.”

She laughed and leaned up on her toes and kissed him softly. “I love you, more than I can explain.”

“I love you, too.” Cass wrapped his good arm around her waist and tried to lift her to set her on the porch railing. It was way more convenient to kiss her when her lips were at his level.

“No, no, no.” Nesta pushed against him. “Don’t you dare.”

“It’s fine, you’re light, babe.” He pressed a kiss to her forehead. “I can lift you with one arm or two.”

A car door slammed and Rhys said, “Didn’t the doctor tell you two no exciting activities yet?”

Cassian smirked and said, “Sorry, man, she just can’t keep her hands off of me.”

“Oh, shut up,” she laughed, shoving him lightly and moving the ladder down. This time, she carried the carton of small plants up with her.

Rhys made his way up the steps, still in his scrubs. “Cass, really, dude, what the hell are you doing out of bed?”

He shrugged. “I’m taking it easy.”

“Taking it easy means playing Call of Duty from your bed until I say so.” Rhys was using his doctor voice, which meant he was serious. “Seriously, this is your heart we’re talking about here. You’re lucky to be alive. Do you know how easy it is to tweak something just wrong and pop a stitch, especially this early in the healing process?”

Cassian looked to Nesta for support, but she was positioning the flowers in her pot, ignoring them. He was on his own. “Uh, no?”

Rhys called over his shoulder. “I’m taking him home.”

“Then take him upstairs.” Nesta didn’t look away as she sprinkled potting soil in. “We’ll be staying here for the foreseeable future.”

Rhys and Cass spoke at the same time. “What?”

“I have a lot of work to do for the opening,” Nesta said, simply. “Which means I’ll be here all the time, anyway. The master bedroom isn’t open for guests, so we’re going to stay in there. That way, I’ll be close all day if you need me.”

“I won’t-.” Cassian began, but he was soon cut off.

“That’s a good idea,” Rhysand said, voice firm. “Seriously, Cass, you have to rest-.”

“Okay, okay, alright,” Cassian said, hating every second of this. 

“Shall I carry you upstairs?” Rhysand asked.

Nesta snorted from where she was on the ladder.

“I’ll go lie on the couch,” Cassian muttered, opening the front door and slumping inside.

It was his worst nightmare: staying still for extended periods of time.

“Get a towel,” Rhys called. “This is going to be gross.”

Nesta was shaking her head. “Please don’t get blood on my brand new furniture.”

Rhys was chuckling as he went inside. “That all depends on how much of a baby he’s about to be.”

It turns out, Cassian was the biggest baby of all.

“That fucking burns, don’t touch me with with it.”

Rhys sighed again. “It’s going to burn, its peroxide. See how this is bubbling? I have to clean it.

“No, I can’t see it,” Cassian bit back. “It’s in my chest and I’m laying on the damn couch.”

Rhysand stopped what he was doing to glare at Cassian. “I’m so fucking close to sedating you, Cass. Be still.”

“I don’t wanna be still.”

“You’re acting like a child,” Rhysand muttered, continuing to clean the wound.

“Does that mean I get a sucker when we’re done?” Cassian asked. Rhysand couldn’t help but laugh. “I’d also accept a glass of whiskey. Which I should’ve had before we started this shit.”

He rolled his eyes. “I’ll be sure to put a nipple on it so you can have your bottle before bed.”

Cassian smirked. “The only nipples I want before bed are-.”

Nesta’s feet could be heard on the porch before she rushed in through the front door, heading for the bathroom, hand clamped over her mouth. The door slammed shut and the sound of violent retching filled the living room.

“And that’s what got you in this situation,” Rhys said, indicating the bathroom. “Don’t move, I need to cover this before you sit up.”

Cassian grumbled and Rhys moved to the door, softly knocking. “You okay, Nes?”

He heard sniffling and she said, “I’m fine. Just need a minute.”

“Want a bottled water?” He asked.

There was a short pause. “Please.”

He passed into the kitchen and returned a second later, water bottle in hand. He jiggled the doorknob, but it was locked. When it opened a few seconds later, Nesta’s hand snuck out, took the bottle from him, then the door was closed, once more.

Rhysand returned to Cassian to cover the newly cleaned wound. 

“Is this a daily occurrence?” Rhysand asked, and he knew he was talking about Nesta, not Cassian’s need for whiskey and hatred of peroxide. 

“Yeah, changes by the hour,” Cassian said. “She was feeling great at lunch.”

Rhysand hummed before stepping back. “There. Done. Now, I’m coming back tomorrow at this time, and if you’re not relaxing, I’m going to kick your ass. Got it?”

Cassian rolled his eyes but didn’t protest. Nesta opened the bathroom door, then, her eyes red and misty. Rhysand excused himself to the kitchen to wash his hands.

Nesta groaned, sitting on the edge of the couch next to where Cassian was lying. He rubbed her back, gently. “Feel better?”

“No,” she moaned, lying her head on the arm of the couch. “And I don’t think I’ll be eating lasagna for a while.”

Cass sat up. Without his arm in the sling, he definitely felt the pressure in his chest and shoulder, but he could actually do things for himself. He crouched in front of her and took both of her hands in his face. “Can I do anything?”

She shook her head, and her face scrunched up. He could tell she was trying her hardest not to start crying again.

“Why don’t you go lay down for a few minutes, sweetheart?” He asked, brushing her hair behind her ear.

She protested. “I can’t, I have so much to do-.”

“And a thirty minute nap won’t be the make or break on whether or not it all gets done,” Cassian said, wiping away the tear that slipped down her cheek. “You’re just going to burn yourself out and that’s no good for you or the baby.”

She sighed, but nodded. “Just for a little bit.”

He kissed her forehead and stood, helping her to her feet. She headed up the stairs and Cass sat back on the couch.

Rhys came back in the room. “Make sure you wear that sling.”

Cassian chuckled. “No promises, but I’ll try my absolute hardest.” 

Rhysand stared at him for a minute before saying, “Liar.”

Then he was gone, after bringing Cassian his promised glass of whiskey.

He debated on hauling himself up the stairs after Nesta, but he figured that would only earn him a scolding, so he remained where he was, sipping on his glass of whiskey.

Two minutes went by before he was about ready to lose his shit.

He begrudgingly put the sling back on and got up, making a lap or two around the house. He needed something to do, anything, or he was going to do something that would get him trouble. Granted everything got him in trouble these days.

His phone began to buzz in his pocket and he pulled it out, seeing a repeating alarm going off.

Take your meds!

It was punctuated by a kiss emoji and Cassian sighed. That woman was too good to him.

He lumbered down to the house, finding Beau snoozing on the couch. “You seem to be enjoying our time off, huh?” He gave the dog a scratch behind the ears and made his way back to the bedroom.

He retrieved the black duffle he’d stashed under the bed and began stuffing clothes and everything else he’d need up at the main house in it. He popped one of the pills in his mouth, chasing it with a swig from the bottled water on the nightstand and tossed the pills into his bag.

He debated on packing some of Nesta’s things, but knew he’d likely grab the wrong things and decided to let her pack on her own.own.

With the bag slung over his shoulder, Cassian, Beau at his side, trailed back up to the main house.

He wanted to do something special for Nesta. She had to be overly stressed, newly pregnant, opening a B&B, her boyfriend getting shot.

With a sigh, he pulled open the back door of the main house and dropped his bag before pulling out his phone and dialing Azriel’s number.

He answered on the first ring. “Hello?”

“Whatcha doing?” Cassian asked.

Azriel huffed a laugh. “Bored?”

“I need to go into town and was hoping you could drive me,” he said. “Or, I could drive myself-“

“Let me finish shoveling this shit and I’ll be there,” Azriel promised. “If you get behind the wheel Nesta would never forgive me.”

Az hung up and Cassian sighed. “Sick of being treated like a misbehaving teenager.”

Thirty minutes later, Azriel’s truck pulled up behind the house. When he came inside, he found Cassian balancing dishes, condiments, silverware, cups and other things from the kitchen cabinets and drawers in a tower. Cassian glanced up. “Thank the Cauldron, lets go.”

He stood and headed for the door. Azriel hesitated. “Shouldn’t you put all that away?”

He glanced back at his creation and waved it off. “Nah, Nesta’s reaction will be funnier.”

Azriel just shook his head. “You knock her up, get shot, and now you want to give the woman a heart attack?”

“She’ll laugh,” Cassian protested, stepping out of the back door. “Eventually.”

Azriel hesitated for another second before following his friend.

They hauled themselves into the truck and pulled out onto the street, toward town.

“Where am I driving you?” Azriel asked, one arm hanging out the window.

“Flower shop,” Cassian said. “Jewelry shop.”

Azriel looked at him with a lifted brow. 

“For a necklace or something,” Cassian clarified. “Something to wear to the opening celebration.”

“You sure you’re not making an honest woman out of her?” He asked, keeping an eye on the road.

He’d thought about it, but he knew what her answer would be. He also knew that he didn’t want to ask her just because she was having his baby. He loved her. He wanted to marry her. He wanted to spend the rest of his life with her, but he wanted to make sure she knew he was asking her for the right reason, not the obvious one.

“Not yet.” He could have left it at that, but he knew Az would have continued to ask questions. “You know I like to do things out of order.”

Azriel chuckled and said, “Well, you’re not wrong.”

“Sex, then first date, then knocked her up….but, marriage? That’s a bit down the road,” Cassian said.

Azriel grinned. “Fair enough.”

He pulled up on the curb in the little downtown strip and Cassian got out, heading straight to the florist shop. He picked out a giant bouquet of yellow roses and a vase that Cassian thought was fancy enough before putting it in the truck, and walking across the street, into the jewelry store.

A little old lady stood behind the counter and smiled brightly as Cassian entered. “Well, hello young man, how can I help you?”

“I’m looking for a necklace,” Cassian said, then added, “A nice one.” 

The sweet little old lady chuckled and nodded, slowly walking to the opposite side of the counter she was standing behind. “Well, let’s take a look, then.”

She brought him over to a case that was filled with the most gorgeous necklaces imaginable. There were shining stones of every color glinting in the light, some with long, heavy chains, some that were fitted closer to the neck. 

They were beautiful, yes, but they were so...ostentatious. He laughed at himself for even thinking of the word, knowing he’d picked it up from one of the SAT word search books Nesta had left at his cabin. And these necklaces were exactly that. They were too much.

He spied a price tag that had come out from behind the fabric covered stand it hung on and Cassian used another one of Nesta’s SAT words.

That was an egregious number of zeros.

“I think, uh…” Cassian scratched at the back of his neck and sighed. “Look, ma’am-.”

“My name is Miriam,” she said, interrupting him. “None of that, ma’am business. Makes me feel old.”

He chuckled, but smiled, warmly. “Look, Miss Miriam, I’ll be completely honest with you. I’m wanting to get a present for my girlfriend. It’s been a rough couple weeks and I’d like to cheer her up. But I don’t exactly have a lot of money, I’m a ranch hand and I’m technically out of work, thanks to my injury.”

Her kind eyes were worried as she said, “Oh no, what happened?”

He laughed and said, “To my shoulder or why has it been a rough few weeks?”

“Well, both.” Her answer was blunt, but her tone caught Cass off guard.

Her concern seemed genuine, but he chuckled and said, “It’s a long story.”

“I’ve got time.” She smiled, warmly.

Cassian sighed. “She’s opening up a bed and breakfast she inherited from her father in a few weeks. If that wasn’t stressful enough, I just got shot by her sister’s psychotic ex at her wedding to my best friend and then we found out she’s pregnant when she passed out while I was in surgery. Now, one of my other best friends has had to quit his job to come be the ranch hand on said B&B, where I work, so yes, technically, she is my boss, to run the ranch in my place. All the while, she’s having the worst morning sickness and we were told she would never conceive, so we’re a little overwhelmed by all of this.”

Miriam blinked, speechless. “Oh, my… That was quite a long story.”

Cassian sucked on his teeth and rocked back on his heels. “Yep.”

Miriam asked, “What’s her name?”

“Nesta.” He even loves the way her name sounded from his own mouth.

She turned and was heading back behind the counter she’d first been behind when he arrived. “And your Nesta, is she more of a sweet, kind spirit or a firey lady in charge?”

He followed, and thought on the question, deciding to answer honestly. “She’s both.”

She lifted a small, locked case onto the glass top. “I was hoping you’d say that.”

She unlocked the box and opened the top.

A simple, elegant strand of pearls sat inside the velvet lining, and a lone pear-shaped diamond hung from the center. It was the single most beautiful piece of jewelry he’d ever seen.

He said, “Miriam, it’s beautiful, but I can’t afford-.”

“You’ll take it, and you won’t pay me a dime. It’s my gift to you, to give to her.”

Cassian forgot how to speak.

He forgot what the English language was.

He was actually in a coma from the gunshot and was having some sort of fever dream.

Those were the only reasons he could think of that a complete stranger would have just said that to him.

“I- Excuse me?”

She gently closed the lid and locked it again, placing the key on top and slid it across to him. “Before you try to tell me no, I need to tell you something.” She pauses and Cassian said nothing, giving her the chance. She smiled softly. “This jewelry store is all that I have left. My husband died just a few years ago. Our friends have all passed and it’s just me now. My husband and I never had the opportunity to have children, so our legacy will not live on. And I have no one to pass the things I love down to.”

Cassian could see her eyes getting misty, but he wouldn’t dare interrupt her.

“This necklace was a gift from Drakon when he returned from the war. I’ve held onto it for years, even as I’ve begun to give things away to strangers and to the missions. But I could never bring myself to sell my necklace. What price could I put on something that meant so much to me? So I want you to take this. Not only as a gift to Nesta, but as a gift to me. Pass this on to your baby, please.”

Cassian cleared his throat as his vision blurred. “I, uh, thank you.” A small laugh bubbled out of his mouth. “Truly. Thank you. I wish there was a word greater than thank you, but that’s all I can think of.”

Miriam laughed, quietly, and reached across the counter to pat his hand. “You’re so very welcome. Now, take that home to your girlfriend and have a damn happy life.”

Cassian grinned as he nodded, slowly. “Yes, ma’am.” 

After telling her thank you, once more, and saying goodbye at least a dozen times, Cassian took the necklace back across the street and into the truck, where Azriel was waiting, sipping on lemonade.

He looked over at Cassian and blinked. “Are you crying?”

“No,” Cassian said, although he was pretty sure he was.

“Lair,” Azriel said. “You gonna let me see what you picked.”

Cassian looked down at the box, then unlocked it, and opened it up. 

Azriel blinked, eyes going wide in surprise. “Holy shit.”

“Yeah,” Cassian said, slowly. 

Azriel opened his mouth, then shut it, then said, again, “Holy shit.”

“She just gave it to me,” Cassian said.

Azriel looked up at him as if he had lost his mind. 

“I’m serious,” Cassian said, laughing quietly. “I still can’t believe it. It’s a long story.”

“Well,” Azriel said, starting up the truck. “You’re going to make us all look bad, Rhys and I.”

“That’s the plan,” Cassian grinned, then looked back down at the necklace with a soft smile, reeling in how lucky and blessed he was.

But then he got a text. What the fuck have you done in my kitchen and where the hell are you?

He cleared his throat. “Okay, time to get home, Nesta didn’t think my kitchen installation was funny.”

Azriel started laughing and said, “Oh, no, I’m gonna take the back roads.”

Cassian looked over at his friend. “Uh, no, you’re gonna haul ass home.”

“Uh, no, I’m going to slowly drive you home, then go home to Elain,” Azriel said, grinning uncontrollably.

“I hate you,” Cassian said, quietly.

Azriel shrugged. “I suggested you take it all down before we left.” 

“I still think it’s pretty funny,” Cassian said, trying to keep his voice light.

“Apparently you’re the only one,” Azriel said, but he was still grinning.

~~~~~

On my way home. Don’t ruin my masterpiece.

Nesta read the text with a scowl.

A second one came in. I’m with Az. Don’t worry.

It didn’t ease her anxiety. She once again stared at the “masterpiece” he left in the kitchen.

She was in love with an overgrown child.

With no hesitation, she began unstacking her dishes, spices, and other kitchen utensils. She was bumping the silverware drawer closed with a hip when Cassian’s boots began thumping up the front steps. She leaned against the island and waited for him to make his appearance.

When he did, carrying the biggest bouquet of yellow roses she’d ever seen, she melted. “What did you- Where did- Cassian…”

He set the vase on the counter, the heavy thus indicating it was as heavy as it seemed. “I wanted to do something to make you smile.”

And he’d succeeded, the grin on her face bright enough to blind him. Though the smile faltered when she saw the velvety box still in his hand. 

“And…” he continued, holding out the box.

Nesta just stared at it. “Cass..”

“Just take it,” he said, eyes bright.

“It’s too much,” she whispered.

Cassian chuckled. “You haven’t even opened it yet.”

She knew his budget, knew what he typically spent on things, and anything that came in a large, beautiful velvet box had to be highly out of his price range.

“Please,” he asked, when she had yet to take it.

Her fingers closed around the box and when she tried to open it, she found that it wouldn’t budge. “This better not be an elaborate plan to make me feel weak so I’ll ask you to do things for me.”

Cassian began to laugh and he took the box from her setting it down on the counter. He wrapped his good arm around her waist and pulled her against him, softly kissing her. “No, but that does sound like something I’d do.”

He pressed another kiss to her forehead and fished a small silver key from his pocket.

Nesta’s eyes widened as she saw that whatever was inside needed to be locked up and she decided then and there that whatever was in the box was extravagantly too much.

He unlocked the box and lifted the lid.

Nesta gasped, her body going still as she eyed the elaborate pearl necklace.

“Cassian,” she breathed, at least she thought she did, if words hadn’t completely escaped her.

“Do you like it?” He asked.

If he wasn’t injured she would slap him. Yes, she loved it, but it was way too much.

Way too much.

“I love it, Cass, but-.”

“No,” he interrupted. “Don’t protest. It’s taken care of. It’s done, and you’re keeping it.”

She opened her mouth to do just that, but he said, “I’ll explain later, I promise. It’s a gift, Nes, for you, for our daughter one day, or for our son to give to his wife. That was the condition given to me, and I intend to uphold it, but that can only happen if you agree to take it.” He kissed her again and breathed, “Please.”

She wasn’t sure if it was the hormones or the beauty of the situation, maybe it was a little bit of both, but she started to sob. Cassian tensed, surely thinking he had done something wrong, but it was quite the opposite. She had fully intended to yell at him for making such a mess in her kitchen, but instead, he had shown up with the most beautiful gift she had ever gotten. 

“Thank you,” she managed to get out.

Cassian laughed, breathlessly, as he took Nesta into his arms, his good arm wrapping around her shoulder. “I assume these are happy tears, then?  Because if not, I feel like a real jackass.”

She nodded, unable to speak as she cried into his chest.

He tipped her chin up so he could look into her eyes. “I was hoping your nap helped, but now that you’re crying, I’m not so sure.”

She sniffled, taking a second to compose herself. “No, it helped. I needed it. I’m just… overwhelmed. Cass, this is amazing. I love you so much.”

He pressed a kiss to her forehead.

She looked up into his eyes, completely amazed by the complex man before her. She would never understand him, the same man that built a tower out of utensils in her kitchen while also being the same man that brought her flowers and the most beautiful necklace she had ever seen.

He was incredible.

Indescribable.

All consuming.

And she was so madly, completely in love with him.

Cassian Nazari.

Her child’s father.

Her one true love.

She prayed, hoped, begged that there would never be a day of her life that went by that didn’t have him in it. 

[abreathofthewild]

Morning Showers

Synopsis: You and Thor enjoy a morning shower together.

Words: 2269 or roundabouts

Rating/Warnings: M for mature, SMUT.  Filthy by my standards?  All below the cut.

About: Firstly, don’t @ me.  Man, I Feel Like A Woman! and Breathe are two of the best.  Secondly, I want to thank @spacelabrathor​ for giving me the go-ahead on Cowboy Thor.  Thirdly, I want to thank @peachyteabuck​ for giving me this specific idea.  I wanted to inspire myself to get writing on the actual Cowboy Thor story, I Need A Hero, and thought this might do the trick.  Went from 0 to 100 real quick, my first time writing smut so be kind.  And fourthly, thank you to all the countless people ( @helahades​ I’m looking at you) that have been so supportive and so hype about this story.  Hope this little snapshot does it for you until the full thing comes out!

“Mm, gotta get up now.  ‘s 5:45.  Gotta feed the chickens or they’ll riot.”  Your voice is muffled as you speak into Thor’s shoulder.  There have been quite a few things you’ve learned about him since that first kiss.  Like how he loves to give hugs from behind whenever the two of you are in the kitchen.  Or how he loves romanticizing the little things like having a good cup of coffee.  Or how he absolutely loves being the little spoon.  He loves being the big spoon too but he always gives a quiet hum of contentment whenever the two of you lay how you are now: him on his side, you right against his back.  Your legs are tangled; one arm is slung over his waist and the other is tucked up to his shoulder blades, your face resting somewhere near his neck.

“Fivemoreminutes,” he rumbles back and somehow the sound of his voice reverberating back to you sends chills from your head to your toes.  You wiggle your legs and then finally untangle them, trying to ignore how the wood floor is cold under your feet as you sit at the edge of the bed, rubbing the sleep from your eyes.  The sun peeks through the curtains fluttering in the early morning breeze creating a warm invitation to start your day.  Already the roosters are crowing outside and you can hear distant animal noises coming from the pasture.  It paints such a wonderful picture.  You feel like you’re the subject of some well-loved sketch, one not done by any famous artist but one that sits on a mantle and is passed down through families.  A picture that to most would look so normal but to you feels like you’re living for the first time.

“Okay, you take your five more minutes.  I for one, need to take a shower.”  You let the words hang in the air.  They are sort of an invitation.  But Thor continues to sleep, slow even breaths emanating from his chest.  Oh, well.  You flip on the switch in the bathroom and hook your phone up to the Bluetooth speaker there.  A small upgrade you had made fairly quickly was putting speakers in almost every room of the house.  You needed your music.

Today’s lineup starts with a song that could get anyone on the dance floor.  You think you remember the singer’s name being Shania Twain.  The music subscription you use has been suggesting a whole lot more country music as of late and you absolutely do not mind.  You brush your hair out as the water warms up; it sends out great puffs of steam that completely cloud out your reflection in the mirror.  You sing quietly along with the music.

Let's go girls, come on!  I'm going out tonight, I'm feelin' alright.  Gonna let it all hang out.

As soon as you step over the edge of the tub into the warm water, you feel instantly more awake.  The steady stream over your head, shoulders, and back is invigorating.  A list forms in your head as you lather the shampoo in your hair of the things the two of you need to get done today.  The thoughts lining up in your brain are completely different than the words tumbling out of your mouth.

“Oh, oh, oh, I want to be free yeah, to feel the way I feel.  Man! I feel like a woman!”  You’re so caught up in the moment that you don’t hear Thor enter the bathroom, don’t hear his sweatpants hit the floor next to your pajama shorts and tank top.  It isn’t until you hear the deep timbre of his voice join in on the lyrics that you realize he’s in the same room.  You clap a hand over your mouth to stop yourself from giggling.  There is something so cute about the juxtaposition of this cowboy, this man singing along with the song.   A huge grin forms itself on your face as you part the shower curtain enough to look out at him.  He’s standing at the sink stark naked brushing his teeth.  You let your eyes wander over every part of him unashamedly. 

“See somethin’ you like darlin’?”  The implication there makes heat pool low in your belly as you nod.  You silently hold out your hand and feel fire leap through your veins when he grins and steps forward.  The shower is small and he is big but when he steps into the space with you, it makes the size differences even more obvious.  His shoulders, his chest, the sheer size of him makes it difficult to breathe.  You look up at him through water studded lashes as he gently slicks the hair back from your face.  An entirely new song has started playing and it brings a slow smile across your face.

I watch the sunlight dance across your face and I’ve never been this swept away…

I watch the sunlight dance across your face and I’ve never been this swept away…

“Figured I should probably get up too.  Don’t want to lose even five minutes with you.”  Your heart is thumping in your chest as the rising sun catches the frosted glass above the shower just right, setting his blue eyes in soft light.  And yeah, you’ve never been so swept away.  There’s no to-do list running through your head anymore.  As far as you’re concerned, there’s nothing outside of this little space.  This moment in time here with him.  You stand up on your tiptoes and lean in, getting lost in the rush as your lips meet.  It’s a slip of tongues, soft and slow then deep and hot.  He smiles against your mouth.  “Good mornin’ to you too.”  Gooseflesh rises on your body as he walks forward into you, forward until your back is against the wall.

“Can’t be in here too long,” he continues as his mouth moves from your lips to your neck.  Your pulse is racing just underneath your skin and when he sucks hard there it draws a gasp from deep in your chest.  He hums against that point and it vibrates all the way through to your core.  He hasn’t shaved in a little while after you had mentioned recently that you liked the scruff and now you were so glad you had as he kisses a trail from your neck to your sternum to your breasts.  The rough scratch of his almost-beard is heaven.  It leaves your skin feeling raw but in the best sort of way.  He pauses for a moment, his hot breath skittering across your pebbled nipple and you look at him in feign frustration.  “Maybe, I shouldn’t,” he groans, tracing one with his fingers.  You brace your hands on his broad shoulders, your breathing coming fast and erratic from just this.  Is that even possible?  “What was it you said?”  One hand moves lower, stuttering across your wet skin, to grasp your hip.  “That’s right.  ‘The chickens will riot’.”  

'Cause I can feel you breathe.  It's washing over me.  And suddenly I'm melting into you...

You wrap your arms around his neck, fingers twining in his air, and buck your hips upward, slightly arching you back.  His cock is already hard and when it slips against your thigh, you feel it twitch and Thor lets out a small grunt.  Checkmate.

“The chickens can wait.”  The movement extracts another grunt as you take his cock in your hand and run a thumb across the tip; it’s already beaded with precum and you lick your lips.  That gets an immediate reaction from him as he gives in, leans in and takes a nipple in one mouth and grasps the other in his hand.  “Shiiiit,” you hiss as he continues until you’re shaking, every nerve ending sparking with lightning.

It’s no surprise that you’re slick at the center of you and when he drops to his knees kissing as he goes, your heart skips a couple beats.  He looks up at you and as difficult as it is to breathe, you feel emotion swell behind your ribcage.  There’s lust in his eyes, his pupils blown.  But there’s a connection there you’ve never felt with anyone before.  Just as quickly as the thought crosses your mind, it’s gone as he grips one hip in his hand slings the other leg over his shoulder.  

He leans in and traces slow circles around your clit with his tongue and if it weren’t for the fact that he was supporting you, your knee would have buckled.  You card your fingers through his hair as his tongue moves from your clit to the entrance of your cunt.  You whisper his name on a keen as he picks up the pace.  There’s a distant thought that none of the men you’ve been with before knew how to eat you out like this: like they were praying, like there was nowhere else they’d rather be than to have their face between your legs.  You cant your hips forward, your thighs shaking.  You know there’s going to be a burn from his five o’clock shadow but it will be worth it.  Just like the bruises that are going to form where his hands are holding tight.  The feeling swells and trips along your bones like a livewire.  You’re a gasping mess, your hands gripping his hair, pulling at it and when your climax rips through you he’s standing already, gently bracing your legs apart and sliding into you, the breath hissing from his lips.  

It still catches you by surprise, not just the size of him but how it feels to be filled by him.  A filthy moan spills from your lips.  You squeeze around him as he utters a single drawn-out fuck before he starts moving.  It’s slow, delicious friction as he ruts into you.  The slide of his cock in your cunt is like velvet and your only option is to hold on, your arms slung around his shoulders (barely).  He adjusts, lifting you so your legs wrap around him too and despite the water streaming off the both of you it’s like you weigh nothing and then he’s moving quicker, pistoning up and in and oh god, it’s like the world has shifted off its axis because he’s hitting that spot just right.

You can already feel the second orgasm spiraling up up up and when you feel it snap everything goes blinding white, sparks skipping across your vision.  It’s hard to tell whether you’re wet from the shower or wet from the mess you’ve made around his cock.  You’re clinging to him, a ragged cry ripping from your throat as your back is molded to the shower wall.  Thor’s still going, chasing his own release and you can tell it’s not far away because already his hips are snapping an irregular rhythm and his breathing is harsh and short.  When he cums, his mouth drops open and his hand smashes into the wall next to you.  He spills his seed inside of you, each jerk of his hips pressing another crashing gasp from your lungs even when you thought there was no more air left.  The last movement of his hips as he slips out of you leaves a trail of cum hot down your thigh.  You trail your finger through it and slide it into your mouth, tasting him.

The high is fading away but as soon as you do that, a flush creeps over his face and his eyes go wide.  His nostrils are flared.  He shuts the water off and opens the shower curtain, allowing you to step passed him.  You ignore the small ring of disappointment that flares through you as you grab a towel from its hook near the door.  He takes it from you though and pauses for a moment as you turn back to look at him.  The water droplets that are still caught in his hair drip from the curling ends and land on his shoulders and run little rivers down his chest.  He’s so close again.  The smell radiating off of him is intoxicating; the scent of warm wet skin fresh from the shower mixed with musk is so undeniably male it makes your mouth water.  He reaches out to cup your face, and you lean into it with a deep breath.

I can feel the magic floating in the air.  Being with you gets me that way.

“I don’t think you’ll be needin’ that just yet,” he says on a growl and you have about .5 seconds to acclimate as he lifts you with a wolfish smile.  You let your head loll back with a laugh as he sets you on the bed and climbs over you.  There’s that look again.  It makes an entirely new feeling break across your lungs, ballooning up and out.  Love.   “The chickens can wait.”  You nod quickly.

The chickens can definitely wait.

[meat-husband]

Ok, I just found your blog and I am 100% in love with it— it’s so good!! Keep up the good work!! Also, I have a request. I’d like to request the s/o is kidnapped by potential victims of Thomas and anyone else you’d like to add! I feel like someone may think the s/o isn’t suppose to be there and try to ‘save’ them from the ‘evil bad man.’ Thank you!!

Ok I know this is a common trope when it comes to TCM but tbh…. I love it.

—

“What are we gonna do?”

The man’s boots kick up dirt as he paces in front of the truck, gravel crunching under his feet. The headlights are dimmed, but they light up his figure against the dark sky, clouds of dust filtering through the beams as he moves.

“Wait for someone to come by, I suppose.”

The other one is calm, almost relaxed, leaning against the side of the broken down truck with no sign of panic on his face. He’s keeping his cool, but you can hear the light tap, tap, tap of his fingers against the side of the vehicle, a nervous sound that puts you on edge.

“This is the middle of fuckin’ nowhere. Anyone ‘coming by’ is only going to be more of those freaks.”

You want to be offended by his words, but he’s not wrong. They had only made it a few miles down the road from the farmhouse and it wasn’t going to be long before someone noticed that the three of you were absent.

That was the thought that made you worry.

Curled up in the passenger seat of the truck, you huddle against the door, pushing yourself as far away from the two men as possible. They haven’t tried to hurt you - you’re only in this mess in the first place because they had wanted to help - but you don’t want to be near either of them when you’re found.

“Fuck this!”

The sudden exclamation startles you and you look up, peeking out of the opposite window. The angry man is pacing away from the truck, apparently meaning to follow the cracked asphalt on foot.

Both men are old, but the angry man is the younger of the two, his thick beard streaked with gray but still mostly brown. They’re rough looking, the kind that Hoyt interchangeably calls both ‘bikers’ and ‘hippies’, made all the more rough by the gashes and wounds they’d collected over the last few hours at the house.

The older man glances at you through the half broken window on the drivers side. His face is bare, but the hair on his head is long and white.

“C’mon out, girlie, ain’t a bad idea to get movin’.”

“No, thank you.”

The door behind you is jammed shut, or you would have slipped out during the argument. The only way out now is the driver’s door, but you aren’t going to risk being snatched up again.

“What, you wanna go back to those monsters? I’m no gentleman, but we ain’t gonna hurt you. Took you outta that hellhole, didn’t we?”

You shake your head, half afraid to tell him the truth, wishing he would just leave so you could dart out of the truck and run back home. Tears blur your eyes and you bury your head into your arms, wondering if he would be so nice if he knew that you were one of the monsters too.

“I’m fine here,” you stutter out, pressing harder against the broken door. “Please go away.”

There’s quiet for a moment, but you know he isn’t gone, not when you haven’t heard any footsteps.

“Look, now,” you hear him say, a soft, low voice that only makes the tears come faster. “We’re gonna keep you safe, you don’t need to cry. Whatever those bad people did to you, it ain’t gonna happen again.”

You shake your head again, smearing tears into your skin as you try to wipe them away. He didn’t understand and you couldn’t make him understand, not without risking your own safety. They had thought they were rescuing you, dragging you out of the bloody house and away from the animals who kept you there. If they had simply left, sneaking out at night when the family was at rest, perhaps no one would have noticed until the morning, but stopping to take you with them had almost certainly ruined any chance they had of getting away.

Rubbing your eyes with the heels of your hands, you sniffle and pant, looking at him with red rimmed eyes. His expression matches his voice, a gentle look on his lined face, and you struggle to meet his eyes.

“I’m so sorry,” you hiccup, holding your knees to your chest. “I really am.”

You see the confusion on his face, but can’t bring yourself to say anything more. He tries again, urging you gently to leave the truck, but you hide your face and stay quiet.

A rumble, distant and low, edges into your hearing. You jump, suddenly sitting up straight and looking out the window, over the flat pastures to where you knew the house was. The man startles too, quieting as he watches you.

The saw is your first thought, heart beating wildly, but it takes you only a second to realize that this droning hum is not the faint roar of the chainsaw. A flash of light, brief but unmistakable, shines from somewhere further down the road, filtering through the trees. Both you and the man seem to come to the same conclusion at once, eyes meeting through the broken window.

“Get out!”

The man screams the command now, throwing open the door and half crawling in to reach you. You flail under his hand, kicking your legs as he grabs for you, but a blinding flash of light hits the cab of the truck and you know it’s too late.

A hand locks around your ankle, dragging you over the seats and out the door, landing in a heap on the asphalt. You feel the gravel and dirt dig into your knees and palms when you land, coughing in the cloud of dust that had been stirred up. The collar of your dress rips when he tries to pull you up by the shoulders, but you’re too breathless to fight him as he struggles to pull you away.

The cruiser is already coming to a harsh stop in front of you, headlights blinding in the darkness, but the man still tries, one hand gripping your ruined collar and the other picking you up at the waist. You’re dead weight, stunned and gasping, halfheartedly trying to block the light in front of you with your hands.

A door opens, slamming closed just a moment later and two sets of footsteps come towards you. The man gives up on his retreat, letting you slump back to the ground at his feet, panting as he slows to a stop. Your legs shake under you, too wobbly to keep yourself upright.

“Let the girl go!”

You hear Hoyt’s voice, but it’s Thomas that you see, stepping between the headlights with something heavy in his hands - not the saw, but something big and blunt, one of the tools he kept in the basement or something grabbed quickly from the barn. He’s only a towering outline against the light, but you can see the anger in him, shoulders tensed and heaving with rage, fingers wrapped tightly around the handle of his weapon.

“Tommy!”

Your voice is hoarse, but you push the words out anyways, stretching your arms out towards him. The headlights blur your vision, but you hear him, closing the distance in only a few steps, until one big hand is closed around your arm. He yanks you up, pulling you roughly to your feet and then into his chest. An arm around your shoulders keeps you close, his face pressed into the mess of your hair as he whines and grunts, and you have to cling to the front of his shirt to keep on your feet.

“Honey, you alright?”

You nod fervently, hoping that Hoyt can see you because you don’t think you could manage a spoken answer. A few gasping breaths steady you, but it’s not enough to calm the beating of your heart.

“You better not have touched a hair on her head,” Hoyt calls to the man. “‘Cause I don’t think Tommy is too happy with you tryin’ to run off with his girl like you did.”

Thomas jerks his head up at that, snarling from behind the mask, and you can see the man’s whole body flinch backwards.

“Fuck you.”

His words are defiant, but they’re said with a tired sigh, coming out in a deflated huff. Hoyt laughs and you hear the metallic click of a gun being readied.

“Make you a deal,” he offers, coming around the car to stand in the light. “You tell me where that other fucker went and I’ll make it quick, alright?”

The gun shines in the headlights, held outstretched in his hand, and you feel your stomach drop.

“I promise you, it’s a better deal than you’ll get from Tommy.”

[creampuffqueen]

Deep in the Heart of Texas - Four

a/n: Hey y’all! I am so sorry this took so long to get out! This chapter really fought me for some reason, but I think I finally got it to where I like it, so here it is! Currently I’m on vacation, and sadly, our WiFi went down yesterday and hasn’t come back. So I’m posting this by jumping on my personal hotspot for a second, then getting off. Anyway, I hope y’all enjoy! Likes, reblogs, and comments are most appreciated <3

Summary: Aelin Galathynius is ready for the best summer of her life. She’s home from college for the summer, and so are all of her friends. Even her cousin is on a break from the military. Everything is set up to be perfect. Until… her mother decides to let the son of an old family friend stay with them while he grieves the loss of a loved one. And Aelin is not going to let a party pooper ruin her summer.

Rowan Whitethorn has just suffered the biggest loss of his life: the death of his long-time girlfriend, Lyria. His family is sick of him moping around his tiny New York apartment, so they ship him down south for the summer. The last thing Rowan wants is to spend his vacation in Nowhereville, Texas, but he has little choice. Not to mention, the only people his age seem to hate him. How on earth is he going to survive 3 months of this?

“Hey, you!” Lys greets her as Aelin pulls into the driveway of her best friend’s house. Aelin lives on some land, but Lysandra is the one who owns land. She has several horses, cows, chickens, and some goats hanging around. Not enough to make money, just to have some fresh milk and eggs at home. 

“I meant to be here earlier, but my mom made me drop off Rowan at the Terrasen Motel.” Aelin sighs.

“Why, are y’all getting rid of him?”

Aelin groans, opening up the passenger side door to let Fleetfoot out. “If only. No, the bastard has some friends in town, and asked me to take him over.”

“Well, are they at least hot? That’s the most important part.” Lysandra laughs as she and Aelin walk through the yard and towards the pasture, where the horses are. 

“I dunno. I high tailed it out of there before he even stepped out of the truck.” 

Lysandra is easy to be around, the kind of person you can just tell anything to. As much as Aelin loves her other friends, right now is about the time Elide, Yrene, and Nehemia would be chastising her, telling her to be kind and remember her manners. 

But not Lysandra.

The two of them, Fleetfoot on their heels, walk arm-in-arm out to the pasture, smiling even as the oppressive heat grows worse. With the Ennars’ land being near a forest, the horses have access to both trees and a pond, though Lys has water buckets still hanging on the fence near the gate anyway. 

Fleetfoot, clearly scenting the horses, is bouncing around excitedly, pink tongue lolling out as she dances from paw to paw. When Lys opens the gate, the golden dog sprints away in a flash, running to greet the large beasts roaming around the pasture.

“ I haven’t ridden Quince in a while, so I’ll take her out today. You can choose whoever you want.”

They find Quince standing in the shade of an oak tree, her dark tail lazily swatting at flies and mosquitoes. Standing with her is Poppy, the pale brown mare drinking from the pond. 

“Hey, girlies.” Aelin coos, stroking Poppy’s nose. “Wanna go for a ride?”

“C’mon, you two.” Lys coaxes the two horses forward, Fleetfoot darting between them when she clicks her tongue. “We’re gonna go for a ride. And after we’ll brush you and give you some nice apples and oats. Does that sound good?”

They slowly lead the horses towards the barn to get them tacked up, both of them moving nearly on muscle memory as they talk the entire time. 

“My mother is trying to include Rowan in everything we do.” Aelin complains. “What are we going to do with him if we go to the beach or something?”

“I mean,” Lysandra shrugs, “while I’m sure he’s a prick, he is very attractive. I wouldn’t mind having him on the beach. Maybe he’d take his shirt off.”

Aelin just groans loudly, a halfhearted attempt to get the image out of her brain, where he was just woken up, silver hair messy-

The horse snorts beside her face, dragging her away from the thought. 

“Whatever, Lys. Let’s go riding.”

Both girls mount the horses and ride them out of the barn. The Texas sun is burning high, and while she’s only been outside for a bit, Aelin is already sweating like a pig. She can’t wait to be in the cover of the trees. 

Fleetfoot trots alongside the horses happily, keeping pace while they head towards the riding trail around Lys’s house. 

At least beneath the trees it’s a bit cooler, though no less humid. But the trail is wide enough for both horses to walk side by side, and it’s just the kind of calm Aelin needs after pissing off her mother. 

Poppy is sturdy beneath her, and the horse doesn’t lean off the path to nibble at the overgrown vegetation. She just keeps moving forward. 

“You know,” Lysandra starts, and from her tone of voice Aelin already knows what’s coming. “I still don’t really understand what you have against this Rowan guy. I mean-”

Aelin cuts off her friend with a loud groan. “Don’t start. He’s an asshole, that’s what I have against him.”

“How do you really know he’s an asshole, though? He’s only been here a few days.”

The blonde woman rolls her eyes. “First off, he insulted the town-”

“Well in that case, screw him.” Lys giggles. Aelin reaches over, leaning off the side of her horse, just to punch her in the arm. 

“He just is, Lys. If you met him you’d know.”

Her friend doesn’t comment on the Rowan situation any more, instead pulling her horse slightly ahead to forge onward. 

“You know,” Aelin mimics, a mischievous grin appearing on her features. “I noticed that you looked pretty cozy with Aedion at the barbecue last week.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” Lysandra says primly, though there’s no hiding the blush that rises to her face. Already flushed from the heat, her entire face turns tomato-red. 

Aelin just smirks. “Okay, if that’s what you say. I just thought you might be interested in the fact that he got a new girlfriend-”

“Oh, shut up.” Now it’s Lys’s turn to punch her. Below them, Fleetfoot woofs loudly, paws crunching on the dry grass as she pads along behind the horses. “You can’t fool me, Aelin Ashryver. That man is about as hopeless with women as you are at hiding your underage drinking.”

“Like you weren’t drinking right along with me!” Aelin protests.

“Yes, but at least I was hiding it.”

The two women dissolve into friendly squabbling as they continue on, the path eventually emerging from the trees and right back into the pasture. 

Poppy is getting slightly restless, and Aelin can feel the mare’s desperation to run. It is only fair, she supposes.

When Aelin locks eyes with Lysandra, they both instantly get the same idea.

Race you.

With a quick kick to Poppy’s sides, the brown horse instantly breaks into a gallop, tearing across the pasture with joy. Quince is right on their heels, and poor Fleetfoot is left in the dust. 

There isn’t any wind, but Aelin’s hair is still blowing behind her, whipping free from its braids. Poppy tosses her head and her mane, and Aelin can’t help the wild cry of joy that escapes her throat, the sound carrying over the whole pasture. Lysandra whoops as well, both of them lost in the enchantment of running on horseback. 

The horses can’t keep up the fast pace forever, and eventually Quince and Poppy slow down, and Aelin gifts her mare with plenty of praise and kisses as she dismounts. 

“Good girl, Poppy.” She coos. “Let’s go get you some water, you good, good girl.”

They find Fleetfoot wading in the water, drinking alongside a few other horses. Poppy and Quince drink their fill while Aelin and Lys had back to the barn to get a few treats before untacking them. 

Leading the horses away from the water is easier said than done, as both of them are reluctant to leave the pond. Eventually, with the help of many horse treats, they manage to get both of them to the barn to untack them. 

It’s about 3 o’clock, and the sun is dipping ever so slightly. Of course, it won’t get dark until about 8, but at least the sun is mildly less intense.

“I still have a while until I have to be home.” Aelin tells her friend. “I don’t know what Mom’s cooking for dinner, but it’s important enough she wants me home for it.”

“If she’s making fried chicken tell her to prepare enough for me, too.” Lys grins. “God, I wish I could live off of just your mom’s fried chicken.”

Aelin rolls her eyes. “Don’t we all.”

“Well, if you don’t have to be home yet…” Lysandra’s grin turns devious. “I do have a few projects I could use some help on.”

When Lysandra hands her the rake and points her towards the horse stalls, Aelin just sighs. 

Forget Rowan Whitethorn ruining her summer, her best friend has decided to aid in her misery by making her muck out the stable.

~~~~

After pretty much getting kicked to the curb from Aelin’s truck, Rowan is in a pretty foul mood. And it’s only worsened when the attendant at the front desk attempts to make small talk. 

“You’re not from around here, are ya?” The man says, though it is friendly. Despite that, Rowan is pissed off at the world, and he barely gives more than one-word answers until he spots a familiar golden head down the hallway.

“Rowan!” Fenrys shouts, nearly crashing into him in his excitement. Lorcan rounds the corner, a lot more calmly than their friend.

“Hey.” Rowan sighs. “Glad you two could actually make it down.”

“Okay, I don’t care what either of you two grumps say, this place is awesome.” Fenrys laughs. “Everyone is so friendly, and the food is great, and-”

“And it’s fucking hot.” Lorcan groans. 

“Okay, maybe it’s kind of hot-” Fenrys continues, but Rowan interrupts him.

“Goddamn, it is hot. And humid. How is any place allowed to be both this hot and this wet at the same time?”

“We’re actually just emerging from a drought.” The attendant pipes in helpfully. 

“Let’s go eat.” Lorcan says, ignoring the man. “I’m starving.”

If the attendant is put out by the dismissal, he clearly doesn’t show it, because he keeps talking. “Y’all should head on down to Banjali. Ytger Hospitality has some of the best food in the county.”

“Yeah, let’s do that!” Fenrys is far too excited and has far too much energy for Rowan to handle, but then again, when is anybody energetic enough to deal with him?

“Whatever.” Lorcan shrugs. 

They all pile into the small rental car that Fenrys got at the airport, Rowan being forced to sit in the backseat yet again. Fenrys, sitting shotgun, is scrolling through his phone as he attempts to locate the restaurant the attendant told them about. 

In all honesty, Rowan would rather pick up fast food and be done with it. He doesn’t know if he has the mental strength to be out in public for an extended period of time. 

But Fenrys is unstoppable. “Every review for the restaurant is at least four stars! It has a 4.5 average! I bet it’s going to be so good!”

Neither Lorcan nor Rowan comment much until Lorcan pulls into the parking lot. The restaurant is large, with a massive banner saying “Ytger Hospitality” hung over the entrance. 

Fenrys all but sprints inside, only held back by Rowan grabbing his arm. 

Inside almost feels… homey. The way it’s decorated, the design, the music playing in the background. It feels like Rowan just walked into his aunt’s house for Thanksgiving. Smells like it, too.

“Hello! How many in your party?” Rowan almost does a double take, looking over at the host. 

It’s a boy, no more than thirteen years old. 

“Uh- is that legal?” Lorcan snorts, taking in the form of the kid. 

“My family owns this restaurant, mister. It’s family owned, family run. We all work here. My older sister waits tables, and my younger brother helps wash dishes. How many in your party?”

“Er… three.” Rowan manages. He’s never been to a restaurant where the kids are working. Is it considered child labor if it’s your own children doing it? 

All three of them are ever so slightly disgruntled as the kid leads them to their table in the corner. He leaves them with menus and silverware, and hardly spares them another passing glance. 

It isn’t long before a waitress comes over, a young woman with long black hair and dark skin. 

“Can I get y’all something to drink? I’m Nehemia, I’ll be your waitress today.”

One glance at Fenrys and Rowan has to hold back a groan. The golden-haired man is one step away from looking like the heart-eyes emoji. The woman either doesn’t notice or doesn’t care, instead observing them with a quiet grace. 

“Just a water.” Rowan tells her. Lorcan agrees and orders his own, while Fenrys just… stares. 

“Um… I’ll have the, uh, iced tea?” Fenrys manages to make it sound more like a question.

“Sweet or unsweet?” Nehemia asks.

“Er… sweet. Please.”

The waitress nods, tucking the pen behind her ear after writing down their drink orders. When she turns around, Rowan nearly has to snap Fenrys’s jaw shut.

“What the hell, man.” Lorcan hisses. “You see one pretty girl and forget how to speak?”

“She’s not just pretty, she’s gorgeous.” Fenrys sighs. “Holy shit. I have never seen a more beautiful person in my life.”

“Except for you, I’m assuming?” Rowan snorts. 

Fenrys shakes his head. “No. Even my ethereal beauty can’t compete with her.”

“Damn. You’ve literally just met her.” Rowan continues. “Anyway, what does it matter? You two aren’t going to be here for long anyway, so there’s no point in starting a relationship.”

Now Fenrys is looking at him like he wants to commit murder.

“Anyway,” Lorcan says pointedly, “we should look at the menus. I’m starving.”

Rowan browses, but he isn’t incredibly hungry anyway. Fenrys and Lorcan chatter among each other, pointing out what sounds good, but all Rowan can do is look out the window. 

“Are y’all ready to order or do you need a few more minutes?” The drawling accent of the waitress pulls him from his slight stupor, and he looks away from the sight outside. 

“I’m ready.” Lorcan offers. “I’ll take the fried catfish.”

“You get two sides with that.” Nehemia tells him.

“Alright, then I’ll have… green beans and mashed potatoes.”

She turns to him next, and Rowan orders a simple cheeseburger with french fries. Then she goes to Fenrys.

“In your opinion, what’s the best thing here?” He croons. It’s clear flirtation, and both Rowan and Lorcan visibly cringe. The waitress, however, doesn’t seem too affected. 

“Chicken fried steak.” She says without hesitation. “With mashed potatoes and fried okra on the side.”

Jesus Christ, Rowan thinks, why is everything fried here?

“I’ll have that.” Fenrys says with a grin. The waitress finishes writing everything down, then heads over to the next table. 

All Lorcan and Rowan can do is shake their heads.

~~~~

The food was good. Delicious, actually, and Rowan is more stuffed than he’s ever been in his life as they make their way back to the car. All three of them collapse into their seats, groaning. 

“I’m never going to need to eat again.” Lorcan mumbles.

“I should have stopped eating.” Fenrys laments. “But I just couldn’t.”

Rowan can’t even muster up enough energy to reply. The heat, the food, all of it combined made him want to go to sleep and never wake up.

“Just take me back, please.” He finally manages to say.

“Sure thing.” Lorcan buckles his seatbelt and puts the car in drive, pulling smoothly out of the parking lot.

None of the men speak on the way back to the Galathynius house, save for Rowan giving mediocre directions. Eventually, they pull up in the driveway, and Fenrys lets out a low whistle.

“Damn, Rowan. Living the high life, aren’t you?”

“Shut up.” Rowan sighs. 

“See you around, man.” Lorcan says, ignoring Fenrys. 

Rowan pulls his bloated self out of the car, walking up to the front door. Evalin gave him a copy of the keys the other night, but right before he lets himself in, the lady of the house herself beats him to it.

“Rowan, you’re back!” She says in that cheerful voice. She glances over to the car parked in the driveway, where, through the windshield, Rowan can see Lorcan on his phone. 

“Are those your friends? Where are they staying?”

“Terrasen Motel.” Rowan tells her. “They’re only staying for-”

“Oh, they can’t stay there!” Evalin laments. “We have lots of room, they can stay with us! That motel should have closed years ago, honestly.”

“Er-”

Evalin doesn’t stop. “It’s not a problem, Rowan. We love having company, they can stay as long as they need.”

At the risk of seeming rude or ungrateful or anything else in the eyes of his host, Rowan pulls out his phone and sends a quick text to Fenrys and Lorcan.

Rowan: Hey, Evalin is offering you guys a place to stay while you’re here. You don’t have to accept, really.

Before he can send another text, telling them not to respond, Fenrys’s reply nearly buzzes his phone out of his hand.

Fenrys: WOULD WE EVER?! HELL YES

Sweet Jesus. 

All Rowan can think about, as Lorcan and Fenrys speed off to get their things, is that if Aelin hates him now, she’s certainly going to despise him after this.

And he doesn’t know why, but he just can’t stand the thought of her being more upset with him than she already is. 

~~~~

Nehemia: Aelin, your mans just came to the restaurant

Aelin: You asshole, how do you even know what he looks like?

Nehemia: Well, first of all, he was clearly a yankee, and second of all, with a last name like Whitethorn, of course he’d have white hair. 

Aelin: Your logic is lacking but I’ll give it to you anyway. He’s an asshole, isn’t he?

Nehemia: Yeah, he didn’t say please and thank you when ordering, so I’ve decided he’s actually the devil.

The sarcasm is clear, even through the phone, and Aelin can’t hold back her laugh. She really should be heading home, but right now she’s parked in front of Lysandra’s house, with Fleetfoot nearly on her lap, still panting from the heat.

Aelin: Hey, do you want to come over? We can eat ice cream in my bed and gossip loud enough that Mr. Asshole Yankee can hear us down the hall

Nehemia: Well, I was gonna say no, but after you said the word gossip it changed my answer. 

Aelin: Alright, just come over whenever. I’m heading back from Lys’s right now.

The drive home is short, and since she hasn’t heard a word from Rowan or anyone else telling her to pick him up, she passes right by the Terrasen Motel without a second glance. 

Something is different when Aelin pulls up to her house. There’s another car parked in the driveway. However, her mother always has someone over to drink sweet tea with, so it’s no matter.

That is, of course, until someone opens up the front door. Aelin isn’t even out of the truck yet, but she can clearly see that the two people in the entryway aren’t the usual demographic for her mother’s gossip sessions.

Two young men, one with dark hair and one with gold, hurry down the stairs to the car. And following them?

Rowan. It’s Rowan Whitethorn who is following them as they open up the trunk of the car and take out their suitcases. 

Aelin is seeing red. It’s one thing for Rowan to stay with them. After all, he was invited. But for him to invite his own friends?

But before Aelin can pop a blood vessel, the golden haired man comes over to the truck and raps on the window, a bright grin on his features. Skeptically, Aelin rolls the window down.

“Hi!” He says, far too enthusiastically for her liking. “Fenrys Moonbeam.” He gives her his hand to shake, which Aelin does reluctantly. 

“I’ve heard a lot about you.” He smiles. 

“And I’ve heard absolutely nothing about you.” She responds.

He laughs at that. “Well, you’ll have to get to know me, then. Your mother was really kind to offer us a place to stay.”

Well, Aelin supposes, if her mother offered, she really can’t be mad. And this Fenrys character seems decent enough. 

She finally gets out of the car, letting Fleetfoot out as well so the dog can sniff the new arrivals. Rowan doesn’t say anything, though Fenrys leans down to coo over the dog.

Nehemia’s car comes rumbling down the street, the other woman parking on the already crowded driveway. Fleetfoot runs over to her just as the other woman hops out.

“Hey Aelin! Who’s all this?” Nehemia strides up to embrace her friend, and Aelin gladly accepts the hug.

“My mother is creating a hotel, apparently.” She chuckles. 

But her friend isn’t listening. Nehemia’s interest is entirely taken by the golden man in front of her.

“Um… hello, again.” Fenrys says sheepishly.

Aelin looks between them frantically, at Fenrys, at Nehemia.

“Do y’all know each other?”

----

a/n: Well, well, well... drama. Some other random southern america facts- yes, people do usually let their kids work in family owned restaurants! I know a girl who’s family owns an awesome Mexican restaurant, and when you go there both she and her younger brother are working. So yeah, having Nehemia’s little brothers work, since the restaurant is family owned, isn’t that unusual down here! And also, yes, everything is fried. Everything.

Tag List: Comment to be added or removed!

@http-itsrebecca​

@rowaelinforeverworld​

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@queen-of-glass​

@the-dark-swan​

@faerie-queen-fireheart​

[ugly-crying-over-bucky-barnes]

Promises Not Kept Part 19

Summary: Tommy Shelby made a promise to Jonah Ward while in the war. A promise he didn't keep. But it comes to haunt him when he tries to drown out his sorrows with a young woman.

Part 19: The Changretta situation is resolved and Leah feels ready to start living life again. 

          “Blow the wind blow.”

           Click click.

           “Swift and low.”

           Click click.

           “Blow the wind over the ocean.”

           Click click click click.

           Leah paused singing and looked over at Tommy. He had been brooding in the corner since they returned from the fight. He shied from her touch and had gone completely silent. Yet he wouldn’t leave the small bedroom. Normally, in Warwickshire, if he was in such a mood he would wander the grounds. Circling back and forth around to the stables, the pastures, inside upstairs into Grace’s room. Back out onto the lawn and towards the stables again.

           But in Small Heath, after the loss of Arthur, he refused to leave Leah and Charlie’s side. And he was so agitated that he couldn’t sit still. His gun was in his hand, spinning the barrel around and around. The clicking noise, accompanied with Tommy’s intense presence was inhibiting Charlie’s ability to fall asleep. He kept tossing and turning, his eyes blinking tiredly but never closing for very long. But Tommy didn’t notice and continued the fidget.

           “Uh…breakers rolling to the coastline.” Leah’s voice shook and she reached for Charlie’s small hand. He latched onto her hand and yawned. “Bringing ships to harbor.”

           Click click click click.

           Leah swallowed and gathered Charlie into her arms. “Is Finn still downstairs?” She asked.

           Tommy nodded wordlessly.

           “Maybe Charlie’ll sleep better in his room then.” She stood and went to bring the exhausted child into the next room. There he wouldn't be disturbed by his father's grief.

           Her husband reacted like a lightning bolt. He kicked the chair back and slammed a hand on the door before she could even reach for the handle. “He stays in here.” His words were ice cold, colder than the frigid blue of his eyes.

           Leah instinctually tightened her hold on Charlie in shock. He'd been short with her before but never had he been so abrasive. “He can’t fall asleep in here, I think it would be better if he had a quieter…”

           “Neither of you are leaving my fucking sight.”

           Charlie snuffled and whined against her shoulder. Tommy's angry tone shaking him. “Mumma.” His fingers wrapped around her blouse collar.

           She gently rocked him, trying to reassure him he was safe. “Tommy, he’s exhausted and you’re keeping him awake. He’ll be fine in the other room.”

           “Don’t fucking argue with me, not now.” He demanded and refused to move his hand from the door. "Of all the times you want to fucking argue with me?"

           Charlie whimpered and ducked his face. "Mumma!" He cried louder.

           “You’re scaring him, Thomas.” She scolded quietly. There was no way she was about to have a full-blown argument in front of the boy. “I’ll have Polly sit with him in Finn’s room.”

           Tommy’s jaw clenched but he could see that Charlie was cowering away from him. After a brief second of clarity, he removed his hand and stepped away from the door. Leah left the room before he changed his mind. She brought Charlie into Finn’s room and got him tucked in again.

           The little boy rubbed his eyes and pouted. “Daddy’s mad.”

           “No, poppet, he’s just stressed.” She smoothed the quilt over him, making sure he was warm enough and handed him his Teddy bear.

           “Wha’s that?” Charlie hugged the ted close, partially burying his face in the curly fur.

           Leah chewed on her lip. She wasn’t sure how to define the word. “It’s…it’s when you’re very sad and worried.”

           “Oh.” Charlie yawned again and could hardly keep his eyes open any longer. “Will he be happy soon?”

           “I hope so.” She whispered and kissed his forehead. “Now it's time to sleep. I'll stay and sing until you're dreaming." With a promise, she began singing again. "Gulls against the morning sunlight,” She brushed her hand over his blond hair and started the lullaby over again. No matter how many times, she would sing until he was asleep. “Flying off to freedom…Blow the wind, blow. Swift and low…”

~~~~~~~~~

           After Charlie fell asleep and she got Polly to sit up with him in Finn’s room, Leah returned to Tommy’s room. He had sat down on the bed but the gun was still in his hand. His thumb spinning the barrel. There was murder in his eyes. An obsessed fixation on getting retribution. Avenging both of his fallen brothers.

           Leah walked over to him and reached for the gun. He tensed up, his shoulder locking and pulling away from her. “Tommy, please just put it down.”

           Instead of facing her, he glanced over his shoulder and drew back the lace curtains. There were men flooding the lane. Soldiers armed and prepared to die for him. But Luca wouldn’t come tonight. No, there was already a plan. Tommy had constructed it. The Italians merely assumed they were the ones in control.

           Relenting, he handed Leah the gun. She made sure the chamber was empty and placed it on the dresser. Curiously, she opened the drawer that she had explored the night after their first date. She pushed aside the expensive ties and found his tags from the war. She traced his name in the tarnished circle of metal. “Why did you keep this but not any of your medals?” She turned and showed him the tag. “Ada said you were decorated.”

           He cleared his throat and pulled out a cigarette. “Didn’t want to lose my name. They stamped that and gave it to me before I left. Every time I could get some sleep, I checked to make sure it was the same. That it hadn’t changed. That’s all I had to remember the man I once was.”

           Leah nodded and placed the tag on the dresser next to the gun. “Tommy, I changed my name for you.” She took the cigarette from between his fingers and took a drag. He reached for it back but she tossed it into the ashtray. Looping her arms around his neck, she straddled his lap. Planted right in front of him, he didn’t have much of an option but to look at her.

           The touch seemed to relax him slightly and he wrapped his arms around her waist.

           “I’ve gone from Leah Ward to Leah Robinson, to Leah Ward-Robinson. Now I write Leah Shelby and I will do so until the day I die. I’ll never introduce myself any differently.”

           He lifted a hand to comb through her blonde hair.

           “Do you trust the woman who changed her name for you?”

           He nodded ever so slightly, a hint of curiosity in his eyes. To him, there wasn’t much rhyme or reason for her question. But he answered it honestly.

           “Then trust that you will win this war. You will come home to me and you’ll be free. That bastard won’t take any more lives. He’s the last person to die in this battle.”

           Tommy’s thumb grazed over her bottom lip. The amount of tension had been building up in the hour or so after the fight. And he was about to hit a boiling point.

           “Charlie fall asleep?”

           Leah nodded. “He was so tired, he went out pretty quickly.”

           “Will you be able to stay quiet?” His eyebrow raised.

           Leah’s pupils dilated and she immediately picked up on what he was implying. She mindlessly nodded again. Her eyes fixed on his lips.

           “You sure?”

           “Yes.” She breathed.

           Tommy picked her up and placed her on the desk, pushing the solid piece of furniture against the wall. He grabbed the nape of her neck and kissed her forcefully.

           Leah moaned and her knees tipped open so Tommy could step between them. “Tom…” She gasped out when he pulled away from her.

           “Sh…” He whispered and nibbled on her lower lip.

           She whimpered and knotted her fingers in his hair.

           Tilting back slightly he took in her flushed face. “Listen to me.” He commanded in a deep voice. “You’re mine, Mrs. Shelby. You’re mine and mine alone.”

           Leah’s lips parted and she tried to pull him in for another kiss. But he kept a hold on the back of her neck. She pouted. “And who do you belong to?” She replied.

           The scent of her perfume and her warmth had Tommy reeling. “Yours.”

           “Then show me.”

~~~~~~~~

           “Daddy…mumma.” The next morning, Charlie nudged open the door. Tommy was awake but Leah was still fast asleep, curled up under his arm. Luckily, she’d donned Tommy’s shirt before they went to bed so there was no reason to turn Charlie away.

           “C’mere.” Tommy smiled and beckoned him over.

           His son crawled up onto the bed and immediately went to wedge himself between Tommy and Leah. But he stopped him. “Don’t wake mumma.” He picked Charlie up and set him down on the other side so he didn’t disturb Leah. “Didya sleep in Uncle Finn’s room last night?”

           “Yeah,” Charlie answered quietly and cuddled up to Tommy’s chest. A little hand stretched over to touch Leah’s shoulder. Content and feeling safe, the little boy smiled and closed his eyes again.

           He gently rubbed his back, holding his son and wife close. It was a moment of peace before the inevitable storm that was due.

~~~~~~

           If Leah were in the right state of mind, she might’ve noticed the stark differences between John and Arthur’s funerals. Polly, Linda, and Tommy all acted solemn, but there was something slightly off. But Leah didn’t pick up on any of it. Instead, she joined the mourners in the field. Ready to send off another Shelby in smoke.

           After placing a flower on the ornately decorated vardo, she stood beside Tommy, wrapping a comforting arm around him.

           He kissed her temple. “S’alright.”

           “Tom!” Someone called out, alerting something was wrong.

           Leah looked across the field to see an older woman she didn’t recognize. It could’ve been a distant relative or perhaps someone from another Traveler family come to pay their respects. But this woman was holding a white flag as she approached the funeral slowly.

           Tommy slipped away from Leah and held out a hand to put everyone at ease. “Let her come.” Then he addressed the woman. “Until we’re finished.” He spoke cryptically before returning to Leah’s side.

           The woman backed up a few steps and waited. Her eyes were cold on the group of mourners. Her distaste for each and every one of them was clear. But her body language was passive. There would be no attack brought on by this woman.

           Still, it raised alarms for Leah. “Who is that?” She whispered to her husband.

           “Luca Changretta’s mother.” He answered honestly.

           “What?” She hissed in response, her guard instantly going up again. “What is she doing here and why did you let her even come near?”

           He hushed her softly. “She’s not looking to harm anyone, merely looking to settle a vendetta.”

~~~~~~~~

           Charlie banged on the window with his open palm. “Outside!”

           Leah sighed and scooped him up. “Not now, poppet. We need to stay inside.” She nuzzled his cheek but the little boy squirmed in her arms. He’d been cooped up all day under the orders of Tommy. The man couldn’t risk anything until his plan went through.

           “Wanna go outside!” The famous Shelby temper was beginning to show as she brought him away from the window.

           Leah could reassure Tommy that he was in control but she had to face facts. There was no telling what was to come. Would a bullet come flying through the window, hitting Charlie? Would men break down the door and assault them? Had they laid an explosive somewhere and a certain movement would trigger it?

           Being inside all day had begun to wear Leah down as well as she was only left with Charlie and her anxious thoughts.

           “C’mon, love, I’ll make you lunch-”

           The door burst open and Leah jolted. The fears that had been weighing her mind down jumped to life. She shielded Charlie but only for a moment until Tommy’s familiar voice called out.

           “Leah?”

           She exhaled in relief and set down Charlie so the little boy could run to his father. Steadying her racing heart, she picked up the book she had been reading out loud to try and entertain Charlie. She came out into the hall and startled.

           Arthur was standing in the doorway with Tommy. He smiled sheepishly. “Hello, sister.”

           Leah dropped the book and froze. “Wh-how? You said-”

           “I’ll explain everything,” Tommy promised. “But for now, we can pack our things for Arrow House.”

           Two more shocks hit Leah. There was a small cut on his neck from an obvious struggle and he had said they were able to return to Warwickshire. “I don’t understand…” She couldn't decide what to ask first. How in the world his dead brother was standing at the door? What had happened since he'd left that morning? Were they safe in Warwickshire?

           He walked over to kiss her cheek. “It’s over.”

           “Over.” She repeated dumbfounded.

           A small smile on his face told her everything. The man hell bent on destroying the Shelby family was dead. Never had Leah been relieved another human was dead. “Once we’re back at Arrow House, I’ll make arrangements for the wedding.” He tucked a stray curl behind her ear, his blue eyes fond on her. "And we'll have the family we're meant to have."

           Leah let out a noise of joyful disbelief. “Really?” She threw her arms around him.

           Tommy lifted her off the ground, supporting her with strong arms wrapped around her waist. He felt like the door of the jail cell had opened and all of them were finally released. Able to step out into the sun again, leave Birmingham without fear, and return to a normal existence.

           Or as normal as life could be for them. Because Tommy was still looking forward. Looking towards the possibilities, the opportunities, the places he could claim. The thrones that were up for grabs.

Permanent Tag: @papa-geralt-of-cirilla​ @giftofdreams​ @biba3434​ @kimmietea​ @karmezii​ @enrapturedbythemoon​ @vampgirl1997​ @tarafaithe​ 

Tag list: @shelbyblinded​

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[dopescotlandwarrior]

Bluegrass-Chapter 11

               A special thanks to @statell​ for everything you do for my stories

Previous chapters on AO3

Chapter Eleven

The following day, Jamie drove Michael to look at a car. It was perfect for his needs and he paid cash for it. Once they were done, Jamie suggested dropping in on Claire and he would just stay after their visit. Michael was all for a glass of whisky and texted her they were on the way.

Claire heard two vehicles pull up to her stairs and went outside to welcome the men into soft comfortable chairs on her patio. Jamie looked at her for a long minute, appreciating the long cotton dress she wore and hair up in a ponytail. She took his breath away, but was soon snapped out of his reverie with a glass of whisky. The three of them seemed happy and relaxed and the whisky flowed. Stories about training horses and buying quality broodmares were shared and Jamie laughed while telling how he acquired the Runner’s dam.

“It was ridiculous inching up with another bidder. That fucken guy was so cheap it was turnin into torture for all of us. I decided to offer the askin price and Chad could kiss my ass.”

“Wait!”

Claire put a hand to her chest and took a deep breath.

“Did you say Chad? You outbid Chad, Jamie”

“Aye, he was plenty pissed too. I told him to grow up and find another mare.”

Claire stood up and paced around her patio. Suddenly it all made sense. That’s why Chad went out with her, to get information about Jamie, or Runner. She sat down and stayed quiet until Michael left, and she was plenty worked up by that time.

“Maybe Chad had something to do with poisoning the horses, Jamie. I don’t know how yet, but I always wondered why he wanted another date when we didn’t seem to get along.”

“I know him, how could he slip in and poison the feed without someone seein him?”

“I don’t know and forgive me for saying this, but I think Isobel had something to do with it too. Only because her horse was not affected. Porcelain was not poisoned but she did beg me to get her away because she was afraid of Isobel.”

Jamie got very quiet and listened to Claire feeling the truth in what she said.

“It was a sudden trip to Scotland she went on, maybe she was afraid of bein implicated, so she left. I remembered she cried and carried on for days when she got home. An exaggerated response because she couldn’t give two shits for those horses.”

“Why is she staring at Runner in the middle of the night. What can she gain from hurting him?”

“I don’t know Sassenach, but it’s time to push her a bit and hope she makes a mistake. Right now I need yer body mo chridhe. Come inside, I have somethin to show ye.”

Claire was hungry for him and peeled his clothes and boots off slowly and then worshiped his naked body until he almost came in her mouth. He pulled her away from him and told her to remove her dress while he watched. She slipped out of the dress and waited.

“Bra and panties too, love.”

She stood in front of him raking her eyes over his gorgeous body.

“Come here.”

When Claire was seconds away from her orgasm, Jamie heard Molly come in and the front door close. He covered Claire’s mouth with his hand and pushed her off the cliff she was on, keeping his hand in place until her moaning stopped. She gave him a come fuck me look and he tumbled into his own hurricane of release, heroically quiet.

Most of the next day, Claire and Runner worked with Michael, giving Jamie some time to consider the Chad connection and possibly Isobel. He picked up the phone and dialed Ned Gowen. The older gentleman’s voice gave Jamie goosebumps and made his heart hurt. Ned had been a friend of the family for decades and his voice reminded him of home.

“Yes laddie, I added terms to your contract with Dunsany for the dissolution of marriage. Ye havena married the lass and doesna sound like any possibility in the future. If you want her out, tell her to leave. The loan contract was signed by you and Dunsany. Isobel was not a signer and as long as you are current on yer payments, she canna force you to sell. It may be harsh for Isobel, but she is entitled to nothing.”

Jamie couldn’t believe his ears and struggled through the rest of the conversation. He wanted to get up to the house and pack all of Isobel’s belongings right away. Isobel could rent an apartment somewhere, but he wasn’t paying for it. Maybe this was enough to drive her back to Scotland.

Fortunately, he gave it some thought before impulsively kicking Isobel out and though it was a dreaded phone call, he decided to touch base with Dunsany. He had given Dunsany double and triple payments when his foals and yearlings sold, consequently he was far ahead in paying off his debt. He hoped that would count for something. It was the dinner hour in Scotland, so he made the call before he lost his nerve.

Dunsany was not surprised at this development in the relationship of Jamie and his daughter, in fact, it was expected.

“If Isobel has taken no interest in your breeding business than it stands to reason she will not share in the profits. She isn’t smart enough to realize this so I imagine you will have quite a time with her. If she wants to come back to Scotland, her mother will welcome her with open arms. If she decides to stay in Kentucky I will pay for her housing. You can pass that along to her please and I will wait to hear from her.”

“Jamie, I financed your operation because you acted honorably, agreeing to marry Isobel when she was with child. I make money with honorable men every day and knew this was a good investment, no matter the turn out between you and my daughter. So far I was right, although I’m not happy with the doubling up on your payments, it's costing me too much in interest. You can pay your monthly installment or pay me off so I can reinvest.”

That was all there was to it. Jamie hung up the phone feeling like a man freed from four years of imprisonment and couldn’t sit still with his happy energy. He went out to watch Claire and Runner, also getting some sunshine on his face.

Claire was breezing and Runner was open-mouthed from her holding back on the bit. He wanted to bust out and gallop, it was obvious how much he loved to run. Jamie smiled as they came closer. Michael called to her to move him eight feet to the left and Claire was able to direct him with no problem. Other horses were working out and when three of them came close to Runner he pinned his ears back and almost broke out of Claire’s control. She let him accelerate a bit but still held him back.

Jamie sat against a tree and dialed Isobel.

“Something important has come up Isobel. I need you to call me back right away.”

Jamie closed his eyes to the bright sun and wondered what kind of shit storm Isobel was going to cause over being kicked out of the house. He picked up his vibrating phone.

“What is it, Jamie.”

“I need ye to come home as soon as ye can. I’ll be packin your stuff tonight because ye are movin out of my house. Yer father said he will pay your housing if ye stay in America, or ye can go home to Scotland.”

“You must have hit yer head today if you think I’m leavin with nothin. Ha, that’s rich Jamie. You will pay off the loan to my father and sell the farm so we can split it. Then I will leave happily.”

“By contract, you are entitled to nothin. You are not a signer on the finance agreement, more importantly, you have not contributed five minutes of your time to this business in the four years we have been here.”

“Bullshit! I am not stupid Jamie Fraser.”

“I think ye should call yer father and stay calm so he can explain it to ye. I’ll pack yer things and ye can take what ye need for the short term. You can stay in a hotel until ye find suitable housing or go home. If ye don’t come for your things tonight I will leave them outside the door for ye.”

“No!” Isobel was shrieking into the phone, so loud that Jamie held his cell away from his ear. “No, you canna do this to me, fuck ye. I will be home for dinner and bed like every night.”

“Perfect, I could use some help gettin it all packed. Goodbye Isobel.”

When Jamie looked up, Claire and Michael were staring at him. They could hear Isobel from the track. Claire jumped off Runner and pulled his saddle off. She gave Jamie a long look as she walked to the wash rack.

Jamie ran after her and helped kneed Runner’s muscles with his permanent smile. Claire had never seen him so happy.

“I am very curious about what has made you so happy.”

“I am movin Isobel out of my house, tonight. She isn’t happy about it but I’m doin it anyway. I spoke to Ned Gowen earlier and he told me the financing contract was signed by Dunsany and me, not Isobel. If we had married, the property and assets would be split according to Kentucky law. Failing to marry means she has rights to nothin. Her father will support her so she’s not in the streets and maybe she will go back to Scotland. I can only hope.”

They walked out into one of the pastures to enjoy the Indian summer warmth and let Runner chow down on grass. Jamie touched her cheek and then kissed her.

“Jamie, I can’t stop thinking about Dustin today. Can you think of a reason he doesn’t call or email me? I’m curious about how he is doing, and I miss him. It hurts my feelings that he just forgot about me after being attached at the hip for almost two years.

“He loves ye Sassenach. I imagine he’s suffering with a broken heart and talkin to ye will make it worse.”

Claire looked at him like he lost his mind.

“It’s true, love. I saw it the first day you were here. He will come around when he’s ready.”

Claire was deep in thought when they walked back. She wondered if it were true about Dustin and wondered why she never noticed. Jamie kissed her deeply and said he would be fighting with Isobel all night so he would not see her after work. He held her for several minutes, one last kiss, and she was gone.

Jamie stared at the enormous job of packing all the clothes, makeup, lotions, shampoo, and a thousand other things. This was way bigger than he estimated, and he would need a ton of boxes. He dashed into town and bought a dozen boxes in three sizes. Coming back, he saw Isobel’s Cadillac in the driveway and took a deep breath.

Isobel walked swiftly toward him looking like she would stab him in the face if she could.

“What are all those boxes for?”

“I told ye, yer movin out tonight. I suggest ye find a suitable hotel to stay at until ye find somethin to rent.” He moved toward the bedroom and started building the boxes. When the tape gun made that horrible noise, Isobel snapped. She grabbed the tape gun and kicked the boxes all over the bedroom.

“I’m callin the police to arrest ye, ye piece of shit!”

Jamie grabbed another box but could not get the tape from Isobel. It looked like she was having a stroke with her purple face and wide eyes. Jamie walked back to his truck where he had a second tape gun and then started on another box.

“I’m callin Jenny. She will stop this, she is at least sane.”

“Enough Isobel! Stop acting like a spoiled four-year-old! You have hated every minute in Kentucky, I can’t remember the last time you were here, and there’s no reason for ye to stay. None whatsoever. I’m not sellin the business and yer father doesn’t want any more double payments. I know ye lied to me about being pregnant, if ye don’t get out tonight, yer father will know as well. Now you can help me or leave me to my task.”

“Ye prick!” With that Isobel ran out the door and sped away in her Cadillac.

Jamie continued until he saw Michael at his bedroom door looking like he had seen a ghost.

“What’s wrong with ye Michael?”

“Did you tell Isobel I was staying in the guest room for a while?”

“I did, well I sent her a text message ye were here, why.”

“I doubt she read it. She came bursting into the house like hellfire was chasing her. She called someone and paced like an animal while she talked. She told this person he was an idiot and if he hadn’t botched the poisoning this would all be over. She also told him she was getting kicked off the property, so it was now or never.”

“Holy shit.”

Jamie sat on the bed and stared into space for several minutes. Both men were shocked by what Isobel revealed not knowing Michael was in the house. Jamie grabbed his phone and dialed Angus hoping the guys had not left yet.

“Angus, can ye and Rupert wait to leave until I get there. There are big developments and I need yer help. I’ll be right there.”

The men assembled in the office and Jamie explained what Isobel said on the phone before asking for ideas.

“Do ye think the poisoner is comin back to finish the job, Jamie?”

“I think this person still wants to hurt me, whether it be poison again or some other terrible thing. I don’t know why Isobel’s presence here will facilitate the guy, but she seems to think so.”

They continued thinking about what might happen and after fifteen minutes Isobel was calling.

“Isobel.”

“I never want to see your face again Jamie Fraser and if you get near me, I’ll call the police and tell them you tried to kill me! I must get my tack out of the barn, so I need a passcode. I’ll be in and out and you can watch from your ridiculous cameras if you want. But if you come near me, you’ll spend the night in jail. So give me your code.”

“8246 star.”

“Do I get to say goodbye to Porcelain Love?”

That’s a different code, its 7933 pound.”

Isobel clicked off without another word. Jamie was shaking with rage. Rupert and Angus were incredulous at what Jamie did, giving her his code. Michael figured it out and smiled.

“If I’m right gentlemen, she intends to give the code to the poisoner so he can finish the job. We know it’s happening tonight so if we take positions in different areas of the compound, we can catch the bloke in the act. As soon as you see him stop at a stall ye jump him. I have a feelin he’ll be headed straight for Runner so let him pass through if he is headed that way.”

“It’s a little daring Jamie. He could easily squirt poison into the water, and we might not even see that in the dark.”

“We should empty the water in each stall. They can handle it for a few hours. And Michael, ye will not be joining us tonight. You don’t need to risk yer neck for a job that doesn’t even pay ye.”

The men were all shaking their heads at the plan and figuring out where they could hide.

“We have another hour of daylight so ye guys get some dinner and a beer, only one beer please.”

Jamie took out a fifty and handed it to Rupert. “When ye come back, you need to hide yer truck Rupert. I’ll leave my truck in the driveway and you pull into the garage and shut the door. Since we don’t know when he’s comin, be silent after dark.” He tossed Rupert the remote to his garage.

The men disbanded to eat and get ready to catch the man that killed five of Jamie’s horses. Jamie argued with Michael on the way back to the house refusing his request to participate.

Jamie laid on his bed and called Claire to fill her in.

“I’m coming over Jamie.”

“No, yer not lass. I would be too worried and distracted with you here. We will get him tonight, I’m sure of it. Isobel has done a fine job of setting him up to be caught. I love ye Sassenach, don’t worry. I will call ye when we catch him.”

“Any time of night Jamie, I doubt I’ll sleep until I know you’re safe, and Runner too.”

“Lass, ye put me ahead of Runner, ye know what that means don’t ye? It means ye love me more than him.”

“I do love you more than anyone in the world. Please be careful.”

Jamie watched the monitors until he heard a light tapping on the front door.

“Claire, what are ye doing here?”

“I’m coming so I can prevent Runner from jumping his stall walls.” She put her hand up at Jamie. “You know the risk of him seeing someone at his stall in the dark. I will crouch down under his water bucket and keep him calm while you catch the guy. No one will see me.”

“Where is your truck?”

“It’s in the lower pasture, well hidden. I hiked up here.”

“In the pitch-black outside, no moon to light yer way? Yer in big trouble lass, let's go.”

As Jamie pulled the door closed, he felt it open again as Michael slipped out to join them.

“I’m coming too.”

Jamie looked at Claire and Michael, both dressed in black and shook his head.

“Silence as we walk.”

Michael hid in the breeding wing, Angus near the entrance door, Rupert on the long aisle. Claire was crouched under Runner’s empty water trough. Runner could not figure out why she was down there and pestered her to race him. She convinced him to lay down in his straw and showed him multiple images of him winning races. Before long he was snoring and the wait began. Jamie logged into the cameras and watched them closely. He had shut down the lights near the entrance so the man would be at ease coming inside. Most of the lights inside were off as well. With all the darkness, the night vision cameras would find him easily.

It was a grueling three hours later that Jamie saw a dark figure approach the keypad and then duck inside. Angus saw him right away and watched him closely. Rupert saw him move down the aisle and Jamie was right, he was heading right for Runner’s wing.

“Sassenach, he’s comin, stay down and quiet.”

Jamie pushed against the wall so he would be on the other side of the door when it opened. He heard the beeping keypad and tried to slow his heart. The door opened slowly, and the dark figure moved toward Runner’s stall door. When he opened the stall, Jamie slammed the door closed and turned on a light. The figure twisted and lunged at him. His arm was raised above his head, and there was a large syringe in his hand. The man slashed at Jamie with the syringe.

When Claire heard the stall open, she almost fainted. He was coming into the stall! She concentrated on images to Runner to keep him asleep. When the lights went on and the door slammed, she jumped up and watched Jamie in a struggle to save his own life.

Jamie reached up and grabbed the man’s forearm and kicked him viciously in the nuts and then pounded his face with his fist, three hits directly to his jaw and the man went down. Claire grabbed the syringe out of his hand and found a safe place to put it. She put her arms around Jamie who was panting from the fight.

“Sassenach, do you have that size syringe in yer truck?”

“Yes and the needle too.”

Rupert and Michael piled in the door and looked at the man. He had a ski mask on which Jamie pulled off to reveal Chad Remington.

“Rupert, go with Claire to her truck and hurry. Angus, turn the water main back on to refill the buckets.

Claire was back in short order with the syringe and needle. She filled the syringe with D5W, a harmless fluid, and looked at Jamie.

The man was tied to a chair and slapped awake. As Claire tied off his bicep and slapped the inside of his elbow to bring up a vein. She pulled the syringe out of her jacket pocket and pulled the safety cap off. Without saying a word, she bent forward and inserted the needle while Chad thrashed in his chair.

“Now then, ye worthless asshole, suppose you start at the beginning with poisoning the horses two years ago.”

Chad ordered Jamie to call the police, willing to face charges to get away from him.

Jamie brought his face close enough to Chad’s he could feel him breathe. Jamie put his thumb on the plunger and growled his question, “start at the beginning or I empty this syringe into yer arm.”

Chad was clearly terrified of the syringe and started sputtering about meeting Isobel at the Keeneland auction two years ago.

“We started sleeping together and I confessed how much I hate you for stealing the broodmare. She hated you and she hated Kentucky, but you wouldn’t sell the farm because your breeding program was making money. She wanted to cash out and get away, I wanted to cripple yer business. Killing your horses would satisfy both of us.”

Jamie couldn’t take another word and smashed Chad’s face with his fist, knocking him out. He left the wing and walked the aisle briskly, trying to calm down. Claire caught up to him and hugged his waist asking him to slow down. She could feel him shaking and spoke softly to him.

“It’s almost over sweetheart. One more person to identify and we can call the police to haul him away. We need to know who helped them poison the horses.”

Jamie exhaled and shook his head. They came back with smelling salts from the emergency medical kit and revived Chad.

“Sorry, I lost my temper for a minute and these blokes held me back from pushin that plunger in yer arm.” Jamie put his thumb on the plunger and told Chad to just give him a reason. “Who helped ye poison the horses. It wasn’t you, so who?”

Chad stared at Jamie but was silent until Jamie jumped forward and pushed the plunger a bit. Chad screamed as five cc’s were injected into his bloodstream.

“It was Yvonne! You hired her to manage the feeding, but she worked for me. She was in love with me and would have done anything I told her. She wasn’t happy staying on two weeks after you found out the horses were poisoned but she did it because I told her to.”

Jamie sneered at Chad and pushed the plunger all the way down. Chad was screaming as he watched the solution disappear into his body. Chad knew there was enough tranquilizer in the syringe to kill a twelve- hundred- pound horse and he would be dead in a matter of seconds. He was hyperventilating and screaming until he passed out.

Jamie pulled the syringe from his arm in disgust and then reached for his phone.

Sometime later Isobel pulled up to the driveway, thoroughly pissed off that Jamie left her boxes on the street. He had sent her a text an hour before telling her to come get them or the borders could have them. She had not reached Chad to come and help her, so she pushed and grunted to move the boxes toward her trunk.

“It looks like you could use a hand.”

Isobel squealed in her shock to hear someone on the road with her on this dark early morning.

“Jesus Christ, you scared me.” When she looked at where the voice came from a police officer came out of the dark and walked toward her while pulling out handcuffs.

“What the hell are you doin?”

Jamie came out the front door and looked closely at the vilest woman he had ever known.

“Yer goin to jail Isobel, along with yer lover Chad who told us the whole story. I’ll donate all this stuff because I’m told yer lookin at up to ten years. Nothing could make me happier.”

Isobel was screaming at Jamie to help her, but he walked into the house and closed the door.

Rupert and Angus were quick to leave, needing a little sleep before they came back for a full day of work. Michael begged off to his room thinking he would easily fall asleep tonight.

That left Jamie and Claire. He held out his hand and hugged her.

“Will ye stay with me tonight mo chridhe?”

“Yes,” she whispered.

They stood under a hot shower not willing to let each other go and soap up. She kissed her hero and felt her heart in her throat at the way he looked at her. He bundled her up in fluffy towels and held her close in bed. Neither wanted to make love after such a day. So they slept in their embrace and felt protected from the world by the other.

Jamie felt Claire’s movement several hours later. He watched her dress and asked her to stay with him.

She kissed him deeply and touched his cheek.

“See ya soon.” She left quietly to find her truck and her way home to change.

Two officers came to the compound the next day and took testimony from each of them. There would be more required of them in the near future, but this was enough to charge Isobel and Chad. Later that day, the officers were able to find Yvonne at Chad’s facility. She was arrested, charged, and sent to jail to await trial.

Claire worked on stats of the horses she would race that day. She was in her silks after weighing in and felt very determined after their disqualification in New York. There were ten horses in the stakes race, Sham was among them. Claire smiled and said a silent thank you knowing Runner would do anything to beat Sham.

Claire turned and smiled at Jamie as she was ponied to the gate. Runner was coming out of the fifth position, right in the middle of ten horses. Claire suggested he hang back for a few seconds to avoid the chaos. When the gate slammed open Claire was in her jockey position and finally asked Runner if he intended to run the race. Almost like an afterthought he jumped onto the track and loped like a rodeo horse falling even further behind. Claire told Runner that Sham was in first place so he better hurry and that was her last thought before he bounded into the turn and took off.

Claire was worried he had dallied too long. It looked impossible to run past the clump of horses and overtake Sham. “We’re going right up the middle big guy,” she yelled, and directed him to shoot straight up the middle of the pack. It was something the crowd would not soon forget. The dark horse coming out of dead last to run up the middle of an eight-horse clump at a staggering speed and overtake the leader, Sham.

Runner told Claire to tuck in from the start and when she peeked around her, she saw no horses. She looked ahead, no horses.

“Jesus Christ Runner, you are all alone. Hurry!” Claire looked ahead at the finish line and the camera blinded her again. “You won the race! Holy crap, there had to be five or six lengths between you and Sham!”

Claire pulled him back and waited for the ha-haha-ha-ha as he passed Sham, still at a full gallop. Claire came around the turn and saw Jamie and Michael smiling like the blinding sun. She stood in her stirrups and pointed her crop at them before pulling Runner back in earnest.

Three weeks later they were racing at Keeneland Park for the Breeder’s Futurity Stakes. Claire could see Jamie was right about better horses as they continued down the road to the Kentucky Derby. They were still running the prep races and Claire shivered to think what the super six would be like.

They were ponied to the third position in the gate and Claire was tense and ready when the gates slammed open. Runner let the others go first but quickly jumped onto the track. Claire could feel how tense he was and coming into the turn he took the wrong lead, slowing him considerably. Claire asked him for the left lead, and he changed it quickly. She didn’t know how to help him but as he came out of the turn his body stretched forward and she could feel his leaping gallop. She tucked close to him looking for trouble ahead every few seconds.

The crowd went wild watching the big black horse turn on his power and run ahead of the others at a blinding speed. Runner took the lead with the closest horse right on his butt as he ran across the finish line. Claire pulled him back while going a little crazy he had done it again. There was no showing off for the horses he beat. Runner obediently slowed down and a track pony was able to stop him quickly. Claire’s heartfelt sad for Runner because he didn’t have fun like he usually does. After the winner’s circle picture, she jumped off and held his face. He told her he was tired and he missed Jason. Claire took a double-take at this asking why he missed Jason, but Runner was being led away by Michael.

Claire jumped into Jamie’s arms kissing him while smiling hard. The number of spectators that gathered to congratulate Claire after the race was growing. She smiled and thanked them as Jamie led her into the stall area where Michael was washing the colt. She held his face and saw pictures of Jason rubbing him with a towel and throwing a blanket over him when he was wet. Claire wondered how they would find a groom like that. Michael was clearly not doing it right.

One man waited outside for Runner to emerge and be loaded into the trailer. The horse was accompanied by the owner, trainer, and jockey, and the man was thrilled. He identified himself as a writer for Sports Illustrated and fired a dozen questions off which were answered by one of the three. The man’s name was William Nock and he had Runner in his sights. The reporter returned to New York that night and blazed through his first article about the incredible stallion, Midnight Runner. He would be trackside for his next race in Florida, at Gulfstream Park.

Claire talked to Jamie when they were alone in the truck. She told him Runner was not happy about today’s race and he wanted Jason back.

“Who?”

“The groom you hired in New York. Runner showed me pictures of everything Jason did for him and he wants that touch again. It’s cold outside and Michael walks him without a blanket after the race and doesn’t rub his muscles, so they cramp up. I love Michael but we need a better groom.”

“I’ll look into it Sassenach. He won one-hundred thirty thousand today, so he gets the best groom. He kissed her and smiled.”

Over the next week, Jamie looked for an outstanding groom, talked to five or six that were still available but could not find anyone who did the treatments Jason did. He made a bold phone call to the track in New York and left a message for Jason to call. Later in the day, Jason returned the call and Jamie made him an offer.

“Come to Kentucky to be our groom for the rest of the races. It’s all travel until the winter break so you’ll be living in hotels, but we will feed ye well and pay all your expenses plus five-hundred a week cash.”

“No kidding?” Jason’s excitement came through the phone. “I love Runner and can’t wait to get out of New York! Heeeell ya!”

Jamie laughed at Jason’s exuberance and felt something release inside of him. He was still getting used to his new freedom. The happiness, the chance to love Claire and let the world know she was his. Why not give Runner the support he wanted to make him happy too?

The oppression of living with a hateful woman was slowly seeping out of him being replaced with happiness and hope. Jamie lived with secret doubts about Runner’s chance to get to the super-six races. He wanted to believe in him that much, he tried to believe, but in the end, he just didn’t. His gut told him great things didn’t happen to him because he was undeserving, not good enough, a pretender. Those were Isobel’s words that had been hurled at him for four long years. She was gone now and he was healing, feeling like himself again. Jamie was content to know however many races Runner had left, he would arrive to the race and exit the race a happy horse with his favorite groom.

[nightwingshero]

HAPPY BIRTHDAY PAIGE

Happy birthday, hun!!! @joeyhxdson and I collaborated to bring you an awesome birthday gift! Em, you did fantastic as always!!! Such a beautiful background and you captured the girls beautifully!!!

Thank you @xbaebsae​ and @returnofthepd3​ for allowing me to include your lovely deps!!!!

I wrote a fic to go along with it, since I can’t be there to party with you, Em and I decided that it was important that our deps threw something together for Veronica. You’re a total sweetheart and my best friend. We love you and I hope you have an awesome 21st birthday!!! 💖💖💖💖

“Happy birthday, asshole.” Wren said with a smirk as she elbowed Veronica. She rolled her eyes at her best friend, swatting her on the shoulder with the back of her hand.

“Yeah, thanks.” Veronica replied sarcastically.

Wren hummed, taking a sip of her beer as she watched Mary May walk back to some other customers on the other side of the bar. “Any big plans?”

“No, I don’t think so.” Veronica fought the urge to sigh. Chances were that she would just go to her mom’s and hang out for a bit. She knew she would whip up a cake, despite her mom trying hard to keep it a secret. It wasn’t exactly a secret when she did it every year, but it warmed her heart at the thought behind it. “Maybe go see my mom, then rent a movie to watch with Olive.”

“Lame.” Wren threw her head back and groaned. Veronica shot her a look.

“First of all, fuck you. Second of all, you love my mom.”

“Yeah, but that means you’re getting cake without me. Also, why not throw a party?”

Veronica hesitated before pressing her own bottle to her lips and taking a drink. It wasn’t that Veronica hadn’t thought about it, it was just that…well, she didn’t really know what to do or who to even invite. She stopped having birthday parties after her dad left, and it wasn’t like she ever felt the need to start that back up again. But each year, as she contemplated, she would end up just doing the same damn thing.

It was the first birthday she was celebrating since Wren became her partner at the Sherriff’s Department. Wren was a bit older than her, by only a few years, and Veronica was worried at first that it would make a difference. But it really hadn’t. They became fast friends and had each other’s back. Wren was the voice of reason when Ronnie needed it and Ronnie always had a way of helping Wren loosen up a bit when it was called for.

Placing her bottle on the bar, she glanced at Wren. “I don’t know, I guess I just never get around to it.”

Wren threw her a look, her hair shifting and showing off her new blue flannel. “Says the person who makes sure that every single one of us is here on St. Patrick’s Day. You know how to throw a party.”

“I’m okay with drinking with my best friend.” Veronica turned away, fidgeting with her jean vest. “I got some new stuff from Sharky to smoke later, so I’m good.”

Glancing at her phone, Wren hopped off the barstool. “Hey, I have this really cool idea. Come on!”

“We’ve been drinking, Wren. Where the hell should we be going?” Veronica snorted and she knew she wasn’t wrong. They had been here as soon as Spread Eagle opened, Whitehorse being kind enough to give them the day to enjoy Ronnie’s day. To say they had a few would be an understatement, but Wren threw a mischievous look over her shoulder.

“Don’t tell me that Veronica Rook is scared?”

With a huff, Ronnie followed suit, calling to Mary May to keep their tab open. The brunette gave a triumphant smile and Veronica rolled her eyes. Stepping outside, she frowned as she watched Sharky jump out of his jeep, with a weird trailer hooked to the back of it, the loud barking almost making Veronica flinch. What the fuck was going on?

“Hey there, Shorty!” Sharky waved at her before adjusting his cap and turning to Wren. “It’s all ready. Whenever you are.”

“And he’s still at the station?” Wren asked, throwing him a worried glance.

“Well, that’s what Hurk said.”

Relief washed over her partner’s face. “Good. That’s good.”

“Yeah, what the hell is going on here?” Veronica finally cut in, causing Wren and Sharky to exchange glances. Wren shrugged, throwing Veronica a smirk.

“You remember when we had to arrest Zip at the farm a while back? And we had to run after him?”

Veronica wrinkled her nose. Of course she did. It hadn’t been that long ago, about three weeks if she had to guess. Her and Wren both had to chase the guy down, not only was he causing issues for the farmers, but he had a few counts of slander against him. John Seed, Grace Armstrong, and Adelaide Drubman being a few of his victims in that damn magazine he wrote.

He had taken one look at them before he had dropped his protesting sign and ran, jumping a fence and flinging mud as he went. They were right on his heels, trying their best to herd him in the pasture they were in, but they were almost certain he was on something. He had been seen hanging around Tweak the last few months, so it wouldn’t have been too shocking, and they later found out that they were right. But it was bringing him in that made Veronica cringe, because all three of them ended up in the mud, both deputies trying the best they could to keep the man down, and still, long enough to cuff him.

Veronica would’ve paid serious money for COPS to have been there to film it.

Or at least, that’s what she originally had thought. While her partner seethed in the driver’s seat on their way back to the station, Veronica couldn’t help but laugh at the absurdity of it all. And she told her partner as such, adding that there was never a dull moment in Hope County, in which she received a withering glare from Wren in return. She had only shrugged. It wasn’t until they got to the station that her mood took a dark turn, with John Seed’s stupid smug face. She could still hear his damn taunting. It took damn near a week to remove all the mud from her hair.

“What about it?” Veronica asked, not pleased at the reminder of the incident.

Wren’s smirk twisted more, and Veronica immediately recognized the dark mischief in her eyes. “Are you ready for vengeance, my friend?”

Taking a step forward with her hands on her hips, Veronica narrowed her eyes. “What are you up to?”

“Get in and you’ll find out.”

The brunette turned, taking the keys Sharky offered up, and hoped in behind the wheel. Veronica grumbled, wanting to go back into the bar for another round. She wanted to celebrate her birthday, not do…whatever the hell these two had in mind. And once she was buckled and ready to go, she turned to her best friend.

“Dude, seriously, what are we doing?”

“We’re going to break into John’s ranch and leave him a present.” She replied, finally, and Veronica’s eyes widened.

“We’re what?!” she gasped, both from shock and excitement. But being the cop that she was, Veronica felt the apprehension set in. “You know that’s illegal, right? What if we get caught?”

“Is it so illegal if I have these?” Wren fished a set of keys out of her pocket, dangling them in front of Veronica’s face. “Besides, didn’t you just say that you bought a little something from Sharky to smoke later?”

“That’s different!” It wasn’t. Not really, but Veronica was focused on the set of house keys that hung delicately from Wren’s pointer finger. “How the hell did you get John’s house keys?”

“It’s not at all different!” She snatched the keys back with a wicked grin. “And a lady never reveals her secrets.”

“Bold of you to call yourself a lady, Wren.”

“I’ve been called worse.” She teased, starting the car and putting it in gear. “Besides, if you stopped staring at John’s ass, you would catch on to the things that go on around you.”

Ronnie threw her head back and laughed as the wind gently played with her hair as Wren drove. “That’s the pot calling the kettle black.”

“I can multitask.” Wren smirked with a shrug and Veronica laughed harder.

The rest of the drive was in comfortable silence, Veronica giving up trying to figure out what the hell was going on. Wren wouldn’t say a damn word, and Ronnie knew it. Part of her was okay with allowing it to be a surprise, even if she wasn’t entirely sure what was going on. The idea that they were getting revenge was sweet enough. She couldn’t wait to see his damn face when they…well, when they did whatever they were going to do.

Ronnie didn’t know what to expect when they got to the ranch but being completely empty wasn’t it. Wren pulled off to the side, putting the Jeep in park and looking over. “Okay, I’m gonna jump out and guide you. You think you can back this thing up to the door?”

“Wren…” Ronnie started, her curiosity getting the better of her.

“Just back it up! You’ll be fine!” Wren gave a bright smile and jumped out. Veronica huffed, climbing over, and adjusting the seat before shutting the door so she could use her mirror. With Wren’s guidance, she began to align and back the trailer up slowly to the double doors of John’s ranch. Finally, with Wren giving her the signal, Veronica stopped and put the car in park and shut if off.

She found Wren already unlocking the doors to the house as the barking continued. “You gonna fill me in now?”

“You know how John is a dog person?”

Veronica threw Wren a look as if she were insane. “No, he hates dogs. Him and Jacob were giving each other shit over some of the wolves that Jake was training at the F.A.N.G Center.”

“Exactly.” Wren breathed out, pushing the doors open, lining them up with the trailer as makeshift borders. “He loves them so much, we’re gonna leave him some.”

It was like her brain short-circuited. Ronnie could’ve sworn that she had heard Wren wrong, and she was trying to put it together. “You…holy shit!” she breathed out as a wide smile made its way across her face, her hands running through her hair as it all came together. “Oh my god, he’s going to be so pissed! Where did you get all the dogs?”

“Yeah, about that.” Wren looked sheepish. “They have some domesticated wolves up at the Center, the same ones that Jake was training and working with. They’re from that guy that had that illegal zoo, I think? Well, some of them got transferred here since they had the room. I called in a favor, and well…”

“Wolves. We’re going to put wolves in John Seed’s house?”

“Muddy wolves.” Wren corrected. “It rained, and the owners let them run along and play in the mud. Just for the occasion.”

“Remind me to never fuck with you.” Veronica laughed. “You wrathful ass.”

Her best friend scoffed as she approached the trailer. “Oh, like you’re any better.”

“Hmm. Maybe we should get matching wrath tattoos.”

“I suffer from more than just the one sin, Ronnie.” Wren laughed. “Alright, I’m gonna open this quick, and jump to the side. Make sure to keep the door steady, we don’t want any to get away. They’ll have my ass.”

“I gotcha.”

Ronnie grabbed a hold of John’s door, holding it in place as Wren unlocked the metal door. She was fast, opening the trailer door and getting out of the way. And it was a good thing, too. Wolves, as Ronnie learned, were hyper. They darted out, at least five of them, and into John’s ranch and they were caked in mud.

“Close the doors!”

Before the wolves had a chance to turn back around, they slammed the doors shut, Wren locking it quickly.

“Holy shit, I wish I had their energy.”

“They’re young.” Wren replied with a heavy exhale before throwing Ronnie a bright smile, her hands resting on her hips. She gave the front doors another thoughtful glance. “Still technically pups, I think.”

“Wren, puppies chew on things.”

“Hmm, yeah?” She twisted on her heel, finally facing Veronica with a curious look on her face.

Veronica gave a light scoff. “I’m pretty sure there are some things in there that they’re gonna chew on. And I don’t know about you, but I don’t think John is gonna like that too much.”

Wren tensed, a crease forming in her brow as Ronnie’s words processed. Veronica bit her lip to try and hold back her laughter. She couldn’t believe it. Wren clicked her tongue, glaring at the ground with a sour look on her face, making Veronica lose it.

“Oh my fucking god! Of all the times you gave me shit for not thinking things through—”

“Shut up, Ronnie!”

The blonde doubled over, her arms wrapping around her abdomen as tears formed. “Oh, John is going to be so pissed! I can’t believe you didn’t even consider that!”

“Hey, it’s not like he isn’t rich enough to replace the furniture!” Wren insisted, throwing her hands in the air. “He can just buy more! And it’s not like he’s going to know who did it. Right?”

Veronica stood straight, wiping away her tears. “The man is a lawyer, Wren. I don’t think he’s stupid. No one else would dare do this shit.” She shook her head.

Wren huffed. “Well, he ain’t got proof. I was told to leave the trailer here so they could transport them back to the Center.”

They decided to leave it on the other side of John’s hangar, out of sight to not immediately tip him off. Veronica helped Wren unlatch the trailer, both working up a sweat from the summer heat. It was starting to get dark, but the humidity was still hanging heavy around them. Veronica sighed, hopping up on some black crates.

“I need a cigarette.” She groaned as she pulled the pack out of her vest pocket, putting one in her mouth as she lit it.

Wren opened the back of the jeep, grabbing a couple of beers and using her shirt to pop the tops. “I hear that. Have a beer, too.”

Veronica grabbed it, saying thank you as Wren leaned against the crates. Ronnie took a quick swig then sat it down beside her. Wren checked her phone again making Veronica roll her eyes. “Checking to see if you got any sexy texts?”

“Not likely.” Wren muttered, but Ronnie could see the light blush on her face.

“How’s Game of Thrones going? Did you get to the part where—”

Wren’s blue green eyes snapped to Ronnie’s blue ones, piercing her with a glare. “Don’t you dare ruin that for me, Veronica Rook, so help me god.”

She only laughed in response, taking a pull from her cancer stick. “I won’t ruin it, I promise. But hurry up, I wanna talk about it with you!”

“Tsk, I’ll get around to it eventually.”

“Which means you’ll finish it in a year.”

They both laughed and it stayed that way for a little while. Ronnie did know why they were just hanging around; she was starting to get antsy. John could come home any moment, and as fun as it would be to see his reaction, Ronnie didn’t wanna be the receiving end of that man’s rage. Pointing that out to Wren, she checked her phone, and agreed that it was time to go. Hoping in the driver’s seat, Wren sent a quick text, probably an update to the people at F.A.N.G Center, before they were on their way.

Pulling off to park, Ronnie eyed the bar suspiciously. There were more cars here than when they left, but it was strangely quiet. Never had she seen something like this, and she was about to voice her concern to Wren, but she was already out of the jeep and shutting her door. If Wren wasn’t concerned, it was fine.

Right?

Veronica wasn’t so sure, and she suddenly missed her service pistol. She both chose not to carry since they were going to the bar to celebrate. At the time, it made a lot of sense. But now? Not so much. Her heart was pounding, not sure of what to expect, so she had no issue going in first when Wren motioned for her to. She was ready for anything.

Well, almost anything.

What she wasn’t expecting was the bar being so full of people, or for those people to hope up from hiding. From behind the bar, out of the kitchen, and even behind the chairs.

“HAPPY BIRTHDAY!”

Someone, somewhere, had a confetti gun and made it rain in rainbow paper. Veronica eyed the green and pink birthday banner that was definitely homemade. Her hands found her mouth, covering it as tears swelled, pure happiness taking over completely as Wren threw her arm around her shoulders.

Everyone was there. Adelaide stood with Mary May, Evie with Joey hugging her from behind, Rey waving with Sharky and Hurk jr, and even Rheese had been able to make it as she stood with the Rye’s and Grace. It was overwhelming, and she was passed around, greeted and hugged. Veronica was smiling so much, her face was starting to get sore, and she was sure her makeup was done for with all the crying. She couldn’t find it in herself to care.

To say she had a blast, was an understatement of the century. A game of darts with Rey that ended up proving Veronica had terrible aim while drinking, but neither of them cared. It only roped her into a drinking contest with Rheese, the blonde bound and determined to beat her this time. Rey and Wren placed their bets as Evie took her job as referee seriously. It got to the point where they had just started chugging with their friends chanting and cheering them on. Rheese placed her arms around her, pulling her close in a tight hug.

“IT’S YOUR MOTHERFUCKING BIRTHDAY!!!”

It got Wren and Evie rowdy, and one thing led to another, resulting in a karaoke battle. Wren dragged her with her, Evie following with Hudson in tow.

They all agreed to one song. But one turned to three, and eventually, they had lost count. All that mattered was that Sharky was singing along in the audience as Hurk jr waved a lighter in the air. When they were fully out of breath and sweaty, they stopped, asking which team had won. Sharky just shrugged.

“I just thought y’all were havin’ fun, didn’t know I was s’pose to be judgin’.”

They just laughed, stumbling away from the karaoke machine giving their friends high fives as they went. It was then Veronica’s mom came out of the kitchen, her and Ronnie’s friends leading the entire bar in singing Happy Birthday. The cake was bigger than Ronnie was used to having, two tiered and the icing matching the banner.

“Make a wish!” Rey called with a wide smile once the singing died down. Veronica giggled, racking her brain for something to wish for, but for once, she couldn’t think of anything. She had everything she wanted right here…well, almost everything.

With the thought of pretty green eyes, Veronica blew out the candles, everyone clapping and cheering. It was Mary May who cut the cake, helping Ronnie’s mom pass out slices to everyone. The group of friends finding a table for themselves. Wren leaning back, resting a leg on Ronnie’s chair, and Ronnie doing the same. Evie plopped herself down on Joey’s lap while Rey pulled her knee up, her arm holding it close as she took a bite. Rheese, dragged a chair loudly across the floor, making a few people stare as she swung it around and straddled it. Evie winked at her, running a finger in the icing of her cake.

“Hey babe, watch this.” Evie teased before smearing it over the side of Joey’s face. Wren snorted before taking a bite, and Joey eyed Evie mischievously. Grabbing the icing flower on her cake, Joey moved to smash it on Evie, but the blonde shifted, moving out of the way last minute.

Rey, however, wasn’t so lucky.

The flower smacked Rey in the chest, sliding down. She carefully grabbed it, eyeing Hudson as she set her foot back on the ground. Moving forward, she took a chunk of her cake before throwing it back. The alcohol, unfortunately, affected Rey’s aim, making it Rheese in the face. The table grew quiet, but Wren cackled, laughing loudly and Rheese fixed her glare on her.

A smirk made its way across her face as she grabbed the whole cake, flinging it at Wren. She squealed when the cake hit it’s mark against her own face. “Motherfu—”

The table erupted, cake and frosting painting the table and floor. Ronnie ducked, pushing away from the table in hopes to escape as Wren smashed her piece in Rey’s hair, but she wasn’t so lucky. Rheese grabbed Veronica’s plate and smashed it against her face. She could taste the icing and she was almost certain some of it made it in her nose.

“Guys! Seriously?!” Mary May called, her hands on her hips as she assessed the damage.

“And that’s my que.” Rey said with a laugh. “I’ll catch you later, dears. Don’t have too much fun.”

They hugged before Rey made her exit, waving as she walked out. Wren called back, promising to clean up when everything was done. Fairgrave gave her a look before shaking her head and returning back to the bar. They erupted in laughter, ordering another round of drinks.

Slowly, things began to die down, Evie and Joey announcing their departure, leaving hand in hand. Rheese stayed for a bit longer before she, too, called it a night. She gave quick hugs, wishing another loud happy birthday that made Veronica blush. Wren and Veronica sat in comfortable silence a little longer before Ronnie felt a gentle touch against her shoulder, and looking, she found the familiar green eyes and bright smile.

“Hey.” Ronnie said, her voice just a bit shaky.

“I heard it was your birthday.” Faith replied, her soft voice almost drowned out by the music still playing. “Wren mentioned that you were having a party.” Ronnie whipped around to throw a look at Wren, but she was taking another drink and looking innocent as the bottle hid her smirk. She smiled, turning back to Faith as her heart pounded.

“Oh, yeah. It was a bit of a surprise. I’m sorry that I didn’t get a chance to say hi earlier.”

Faith just laughed. “No worries! You were having fun with your friends. Unfortunately, my brothers couldn’t join. Joseph had some counseling to do with some troubled followers and Jacob isn’t exactly the social type. And John, well…” Faith glanced at Wren briefly. “He’s a bit busy dog sitting, I heard.”

Wren barked out a laugh and Ronnie couldn’t fight the smile on her face. “You heard about that?”

“I’ve heard a few things.” Faith replied with a twinkle in her eye. Leaning forward, she placed a kiss against Veronica’s cheek. “Happy birthday, Veronica.” She whispered in her ear. Ronnie couldn’t bring herself to say anything as Faith walked away. She touched her cheek, still feeling the warmth of Faith’s lips still burning against her skin. Guess her birthday wish came true after all.

“So?” Wren asked, looking at Veronica. “Good day?”

Before Veronica could answer, the bar door flew open. John Seed, muddy and disheveled, stood in the entryway. “Blake!”

Wren’s eyes widened as she paled, and Veronica howled. “The best!”

[damianosismyking]

PART VII

Part I - Part II - Part III - Part IV - Part V - Part VI

A day or two later, Damen got weird.

It was a hard-to-describe type of situation that made Laurent freak a little. His mind was happy to provide him with lots of thoughts regarding just that.

For one, he probably did something wrong, though he couldn't pinpoint what it was.

They had that too vulnerable of a conversation about things that led Laurent to the ranch; they detoured that by talking more about family than specifics of Laurent's story. They got back on track and then detoured again - and it went on and off like this for about an hour or two. They overslept. Had lazy morning sex. Damen left late for work, which was less than smart now that he was given his first case. Laurent didn't complain. Laurent was late for work too, but the others could manage the horses just fine without him there.

Something during that time must've gone wrong, maybe.

Damen texted Laurent at night to tell him they couldn't hang out because there was a lot he had to study for his case before he met his new client. Laurent's only reply was 'ok'. It was a little too dry. Maybe that made Damen upset?

For other, Laurent was meaning to leave anyway so if Damen was distant, shouldn't that make things easier? Laurent shouldn’t be so distressed.

Waking up without Damen wasn't new, and still it made something twist in the pit of Laurent's stomach.

Not getting any replies for his texts did not help.

Damen seeming so distant on the other side of the line when Laurent called during lunch was upsetting. Damen hanging up abruptly was even worse.

It was an ego thing.

It probably was an ego thing.

Laurent always had a thing with ego.

Probably.

And it was a stupid thing to get worked up over. Laurent didn't have to make it serious.

On the first day, Laurent focused on his job, since that’s what he was meant to be doing, instead of thinking about his boss. Feeding the horses, changing their water, calling the Vet to come check on them. Three horses were almost late on the vaccines and one needed deworming. Paschal would come in a few days to check on them. Then Laurent and two others took them to walk around, freeing them on the pasture. Gather them back on the stalls.

After that Laurent himself was off for a long ride around the ranch and farther until he began to worry it would soon be too dark to come back safely.

On the second day something Laurent surely had not expected was to see Damen with some girl.

Some girl with long black hair braided over her shoulder. Some girl with a stunning face and huge eyes and freckles, and that strutted. She strutted. Some girl that laughed like she was singing. Some girl that Damen was laughing back to, the way he only ever laughed with a few close people. The way that he laughed when he was with Nikandros, and Kastor and Jokaste (before they cheated). The way that he laughed when he was with Laurent.

They disappeared in the main house and didn’t reemerge from there. Eventually it got too late and Laurent was too tired to wait up and see when she’d be leaving.

On the third day, Laurent came up with a speech and then mastered said speech that he would give to Damen and his family - as a whole, not separated parts - thanking them for so many years of kindness. He couldn't bear speaking to Damen privately. Not that Laurent was the crying type, but he might cry anyway. Emotions. Laurent hated them.

There were the speeches for the horses too - and those were individual. One to each. The biggest and most heart-felt to his own horse. It was the right thing to do.

Also on the third day, Damen opted for undermining all of Laurent's plans by showing up without previous notice to Laurent's room just before nine, looking serious and stiff like Laurent’s never seen him be. Damen tried for a smile, but it became obvious then and there that this conversation would be better if they didn’t try to pull niceties.

Straight to the point. Just business and such.

Laurent couldn't help but feeling small though. And helpless, and wrong, and guilty about something he didn't even know what. He has felt like this before - though the circumstances had been so different then.

Guilt was a constant in Laurent’s life when he arrived at the ranch. Guilty for escaping. Guilty for not letting Auguste know he was okay. Guilty for accepting all of those nice things that Egeria offered to do for him. Guilty.

The way Laurent felt guilty then was like how he was feeling guilty now. It was irrational and yet too goddamn real, despite him not having done anything to deserve that.

"We need to talk," was the first thing Damen said, his voice too deep to suggest anything other than that he wasn't in the mood for jokes.

Laurent gulped. "We do."

Damen frowned, as though not expecting that Laurent would say anything. Like Laurent was supposed to stay quiet and mop as Damen broke things up between them. "Go first then," Damen settled on the bed.

"Okay," Laurent walked to his desk and back, settling beside Damen, close enough that he could reach, but far enough that they would not bump.

Laurent offered the methodically folded piece of paper to Damen and waited for Damen to take his own conclusions of it. When it took longer than a minute, Laurent decided to verbalize, "I would like to offer you my resignation. I am immensely grateful for all that you and your family have done for me over the course of the years; I can't stress enough how -"

"What -" Damen interrupted "What is this? What the fuck, Laurent?" Damen held up the letter as though he had been personally offended by it.

Laurent drew a deep breath. "As I was saying - I am all too thankful for all the kindness you have shown me for so, so long. In my heart I will never forget all of this and I promise I will remain grateful to the day I die, but I feel like I overstayed my welcome. I know it might come as a shock, but right now I want to do more with my life. Something to give me an actual future. I hope you and your family won't take it as an offense, I will talk to Theomedes before I -"

"Are you shitting me?" Damen's expression grew more outraged the more Laurent spoke; he was already on his feet "That's it? You’re going to leave? You're breaking up with me with a fucking resignation letter and a formal speech?" Damen threw the letter to the ground "A goddamn speech?"

Laurent shifted, trying to appear unaffected. "I know the nature of our relationship was more intimate and I appreciate the special attention over the past few months. But, yes, I would like to leave."

Damen blinked, in chock. He had his hands on his hips which should be funny, except it wasn't. Damen lowered his tone, considering something before he said, "Is it because of the breakfast? Because if it is, Laurent, I promise I will never put you in that position again, I wasn't thinking. You don’t have to leave I’ll -"

"It's not because of the breakfast, Damianos" Laurent interrupted this time "I just want to be something more. To become someone. And I’m well aware of our situation" he gestured between them "and how things couldn't go forward."

“You can do everything you want. You don’t have to go away. Or you can go away, if you want to not be here anymore. I can help you, with college and finding a place to live wherever you want, just let me -”

“I have my own money that I saved, thank you. I don’t want your money. I don’t need it.”

“Laurent -”

“I would like,” Laurent’s tone was more incisive, firm “To de dismissed. Please.”

"Holy -" Damen turned his back, running his hands down his face.

There was silence and Laurent didn't want to think about it, or anything at all. He wanted this conversation to be over, so they could be over, and Laurent could be alone. By Damen's reaction he wasn't thrilled Laurent beat him to breaking up. Was Damen not used to being broken up to? Was this a first for him? No. Laurent knew for a fact this wasn't the case.

There had been Jokaste before him - and breaking up by cheating on him with his brother must've been a little worse than a letter of resignation. Though the letter shouldn't be too far behind. Laurent just didn't expect Damen to care so much. Maybe that was him not caring so much. Laurent would love it if his head would stop spinning and if Damen said something already.

"I, of course, fully intend to complete my notice and help you find a suitable person to fill my spot," Laurent said, in the quiet, when Damen still didn’t speak.

Damen huffed. "That's really nice of you, thank you," he said, voice carried in irony "I should’ve known. God, how am I this stupid?"

"Huh?"

Laurent wished Damen would turn around; watching his back was unsettling.

"Why am I always this stupid?" Damen said, not louder, "Nikandros told me this was going to happen and I - I didn't listen. Why did I not listen?"

"Are you talking to yourself?"

Damen just kept rubbing his hands over his face and mumbling. "You could have told me,” Damen’s voice was internalized, like he was half swallowing the words, but at last he was talking to Laurent “If you didn’t want... You could’ve told me before – you could’ve told me sooner.”

“Told you what, Damianos?” Laurent was still rock-solid on the outside.

“That you didn’t want things to get serious,” Damen took a sharp breath before finally turning and fixing his eyes on Laurent's “Didn’t want things to go forward. That you wanted us to remain casual.”

Laurent frowned. "We were casual," They were casual. Weren’t they casual?

Damen closed his eyes, pained. "I got that part, thanks," Damen leaned against the wall, resting his head on the wood panel.

More silence. "We were casual," Laurent whispered.

It did not make any sense. None of it.

"So," Laurent gulped, words outwards again "You didn't come here to end things between us?"

Damen smiled like it cost him greatly to do so. After, he shook his head. "No.”

Well, fuck.

Laurent was considerably less stable. "What were you here for then?"

Damen's jaw tensed. He looked to his boots, not Laurent. Laurent almost thought Damen wouldn't say anything until, "I met your brother."

The words floated before they could sink and once they did, Laurent found out he wouldn't be able to breath any time soon. "You what?"

"He is my client," Damen explained, "He has lawsuit against your uncle. There are evidences that your uncle interfered on the process of your custody, stole your family's money and properties. They've been fighting in court for years now and Auguste is out of resources to pay the fees and lawyers, so he signed up for the pro-bono."

Damen, much more in control of himself now, pushed away from the wall and bent to catch the letter he had thrown to the ground "I thought of breaking attorney and client privilege to let you know," his voice was cutting, bitter. Damen raised the letter again, like he's done earlier, but this time he refused to look at Laurent "I'll have the others know you're leaving. We will hire someone to replace you by the end of the week. Don’t worry about the notice, you’re free to go."

On his way out, Damen was gentle to close the door, leaving Laurent alone with his pounding heart and a full head.

__

NEXT>>

Read it on AO3!

[sleepyfan-blog]

Hanahaki disease prompt: “The lack of communication is the true cause of this mess. You know that right?” For Dreammare perhaps? Your works are so in depth and creative!

fandom: Undertale AU 

warnings: illness tw, magical illness, unhealthy thinking, hanahaki disease, tell me if I need to tag more

want more hanahaki au? Another fic here

word count: 4,984

summary: Dream doesn’t understand why people keep making a fuss about the flowers he coughs up. Honestly, he’s got it handled. Really.

also a thanks to @trashydragonartist7 for helping me edit this

Dream suspected that something was wrong when he activated his eye lights  and found himself not in the Doodlesphere with Ink and Blueberry,  but rather with Sci and the Gaster of his timeline staring down at him,  worried, from the cool metal table he realized that he was laying  down on. “Uhm… Hi Sci? It’s always nice to see you, but why am I here?”

“Ink and Blue came sprinting into my timeline, yelling at the top of their non-existent lungs for help. It caused a lot of stir - made worse by why. You were unconscious and still coughing up flowers. Nine orange, red, and pink roses in full bloom. Not just that but a half dozen red Aster, red and yellow Chrysthanthemums, purple hyacinth, Jasmine flowers and violets.” Sci responded, a worried frown appearing on his face as he stared at his friend and ally. “All of them were in full bloom, and lingered for ten minutes before fading away in the color of your magic. I’ve never seen anyone with a case of Flowering Death this bad who’s still conscious.”

“… Oh… That…” Stars damn it, he hadn’t wanted the others to find out about this. Dream squinted a little, and muttered, “I haven’t heard Hanahaki called that before, although I suppose that is an accurate description of what’s going on… Hahaha.” He smiles up at Sci and the Gaster, hoping to disarm them a little. “Besides, it’s not as if this can actually kill me, no matter how bad it gets, so… I’m fine. I know what I can do to… To deal with it in my own way.”

“I have performed the surgery to remove the flowers on a dozen monsters in the past.” The Gaster spoke up, his voice kind but firm. “If you are willing, I would do the same procedure for you. You are a dear friend of my son’s, and I am well aware of the good work that you do… Or you could confess to the person whom you care for, to see if they reciprocate your feelings. I can’t imagine there would be anyone who would reject you.”

Dream couldn’t help but laugh, clutching his sides and rocking back and forth, trying to keep himself calm. How could he possibly explain to them that he’d been in love with Nightmare all of their existence? That this was far from the first time that he’d been choking back full blooms - to the point where the cursed plants robbed him of consciousness as they left his body? Normally when that happened, he threw himself headlong into a fight with his other half, so that the other’s negative energy would kill the flowers that grew in his bones and sapped his magic. It’s worked before, and it will work again. “No… No I… The time to recover would be too long, I can’t do that. Also I… I don’t… No. I’m not going to tell the person who I… Who I love that I do. It’s…” Dream didn’t want to explain and he wasn’t going to.

“The lack of communication is the true cause of this mess. You know that right?” Sci countered, the frown on his face darkening further still. “It is your lingering romantic feelings for the person that cause your magic to manifest those flowers in an attempt to do something with the intensity of the emotions that you are feeling. I don’t know if the medication will work, given how far you’re along…”

The Gaster checked Dream over, and a soft gasp left his lips. “You… The damage done to your body from coughing up the flowers - it’s gone. I don’t… I don’t know how that’s possible.”

“I do…” Dream sighed, shaking his head a little. “I have the ability to heal those who are afflicted with Hanahaki - or… What did you call it? Flowering Death? My magic can undo the damage done to their bodies, their soul and their magic because I am the guardian of positivity. If you would please let me off of the table, I know a non-surgical method of destroying the flowers. It’s not permanent, but I recover much faster than I would if I had to go through the surgery.”

“… What non-surgical method?” Sci and the Gaster asked at the same time, their eye lights widening in shock and surprise.

“Nightmare’s magic destroys the flowering growths of hanahaki disease. Before he… Before he became what you know him of today he was… We were…” Dream looked away from the both of them, curling in on himself as he tried to pull himself together - to attempt to explain what was running through his mind. “Flowering Death, as you called it, was an uncommon, but not rare condition in the timeline that we both hail from. Nightmare could destroy the flowers, and I could heal the damage, and together we would talk to the person - monster or human - who was suffering from the condition. Either they would have enough time to confess to the one that they loved and would be able to date them happily, or overcome the heartbreak of being rejected without the complications of being rejected while having an active case can and often does cause.”

“Wait. Are you telling me that you’ve hidden the fact that you’ve got Flowering Death for who knows how fucking long, but that you go to Nightmare for help? That sadistic piece of shit who would string us all up and torture us all until our minds snap and we become his broken playthings?!” Sci hissed, equal parts horrified and furious about the lack of trust that Dream apparently had in them all, to go to Nightmare of all people for help.

“Of course he doesn’t. I text Ink that Nightmare’s shown up in an AU and I need help fighting him after I’ve found Nightmare wherever he is and just before I initiate a fight. By the time Ink and Blue - along with whoever else - shows up, I’ve been affected by his magic enough to destroy most of the active case, and by the time I’m either rescued by you all or Nightmare retreats, all of the blossoms are dead and I can heal myself later and cough up the dead flowers. I just wish that Nightmare favored a more direct attack, like he used to. That way I didn’t have to go searching for him, and the flowers don’t have a chance to bloom as much as they have.” Dream explained, doing his best to sound cheerful and sweet as he beams at them. There was no way he could confess his feelings to Nightmare - he hadn’t had the courage to do so before everything had changed for the worse and…

He knew that Nightmare was dating Dust, Killer, Hatchet, Cross, Error and Hearts - who had left the star sanses to better pastures about a decade ago and had never looked back. He wasn’t going to intrude on a happy relationship - not when he’d messed up so tremendously in the past.

“But-” Sci began, his eye lights shining with the worry that Dream could feel within his friend.

The Gaster cut him off before he could speak, his voice firm but kind, “Son, I… I think you’re a little too close to this to see other perspectives. May I speak with your friend alone for a couple of moments? There are some things that I’d like to talk to him about, and I can tell that the two of you are winding each other up.” The other’s emotive aura was calm but… There was an undercurrent of something that Dream couldn’t identify - not when he was exhausted and low on magic as he was.

Sci nodded and stomped off. “I’ve got to find Ink and Blue - I’ve gotten like three dozen text messages from both of them and the rest of the group. Everyone’s really worried about you. We want to help, just please… Let us in…”

Dream gave the other a non-committal hum. He was well aware of just how useful and helpful he was as a member of their team - that had been stated quite a lot, by all of them… But that… That chafed against him, sometimes. The happy go lucky mask that he was forced to wear all the time ached and he longed to take it off… But if he did, the positive guardian worried that he would find that there was nothing but despair, guilt and hopelessness left. He glanced curiously at the Gaster as soon as he couldn’t sense Sci anymore. “What is it that you’d like to ask me about, Doctor Gaster?”

“I have been around for a very long time. You have some of the most unique abilities of any Sans I have ever met… If you even are a Sans, and given certain things, it wouldn’t surprise me if you weren’t actually one- But that doesn’t matter. What does is the way that your magic reacted when you said the name Nightmare… He’s the one you’re in love with, isn’t he?” The Gaster murmured, his voice warm and coaxing. The other’s hands were behind his back and he seemed to be deliberately trying not to make himself look threatening.

“I… I don’t have to answer that.” Dream responded, a sense of panic filling him, much as he tries to suppress any negative emotion he feels.

“I won’t tell Sci or any of the others… But may I suggest that you inform this Nightmare after the blooms have been temporarily killed? At least so that you will be able to move on from those romantic feelings that you have for him after a definite rejection?” The Gaster suggested kindly.

Dream stared up at the other dead in the sockets. “He’s in love with several other people. All of them are in a happy, polyamorous relationship with one another… Given the mistakes that I made in the past, the idea of him actually loving me back are laughingly close to zero. He’s tried to kill or capture me more times than I can count. He’s actually captured and tortured me in the past. None of that matters. I have loved him since the first moment I was created, and it seems as if I will never stop loving him. If the flowering death is my punishment for the wrongs I have done him, and the… And the fact that I didn’t realize the… What had been…” Dream stopped talking, not wanting to reveal their past… And because the back of his non-existent throat tickled and he started to cough violently, flowers in vibrant colors spilled out between his teeth.

Once he stopped coughing and shuddering from the effort that it took to get rid of the flowers, he stared up at Gaster, his eye lights dull and shattered. “It… Does not matter, it seems. I have… Tried to stop loving Nightmare. Reminded myself of the many horrors he’s committed… The lives he’s destroyed and killed… It doesn’t matter. I love him. I always will. Now if you’ll excuse me, I need to find Nightmare and get him to punch me in the face…” Dream slides off of the metal table and onto his unsteady feet. With an effort of will, he creates a portal “Please don’t tell Sci or any of the others about this - I don’t want them to worry. It would be selfish of me to burden them with this… I hope that I can convince them this has just been a bad dream… Haha…”

“I… I’ll keep your secret. But I would caution you against hiding this. I know that Sci cares for you very much, and I am sure that the others do as well.” The Gaster urged, wanting to reach out to Dream but hesitating.

“Yes, I’m well aware of how helpful and useful I am to all of them.” Dream responded, smiling brightly up at Gaster, “This is a personal problem - which they’ve never noticed or helped me with before, so why should I try to force a change like that? It would be terribly selfish of me to do that. See you later, Doctor Gaster!” With that he stepped through the portal, into one of the AUs that Dream knew that Hearts frequented to get his loves’ coffee and snack orders. They occasionally talked to one another in the peaceful Slice of Life AU that the positive spirit had just entered.

~

Hearts had texted him earlier that he’d be in this AU - they occasionally chatted over tea and coffee, despite the other having switched sides due to certain… Similarities that the both of them had recognized in the other. Dream just hoped that the hadn’t missed the window of opportunity he had to talk to the other.

Thankfully, the purple-clad Sans was sitting at one of the outdoor tables at their favorite coffee shop, sipping on a drink and looking fabulous as ever. The other spotted him and waved enthusiastically, greeting him happily “Darling! It’s so good to see you… Are you alright?” The other’s smile dropped as Dream felt the other Check him.

Dream’s small smile wavered a little, glancing around for a moment as he walked up to the other’s table “I… I’m feeling a little bit under the weather, but it’s nothing I haven’t dealt with before.” He knew that he needed to choose his words very carefully around Hearts - who was one of the few who could see through his mask and had learned his tells when he was lying.

Hearts frowned a little, Checking him again and pressing a cool hand to the positive spirit’s forehead “You’re burning up, darling… Here, sit down and drink this. I’ll go in and buy one of their high MP items - my treat. Don’t fuss at me, I have plenty of G to spare. You definitely need it. Drink the tea - it’s prepared just the way you like, and the lemon meringue cookies are quite delightful.”

“I… Okay…” Dream responded, not having the energy to even attempt a refusal. He sat down and failed to resist the temptation to slump over the small table as he tiredly nibbled on a couple of the light, and airy cookies - eating all but one of them while drinking the english tea - which was mid-level MP and HP restorer for an adult mortal monster - within seconds. Guilt tugged at him as he reached for the last cookie. He was so hungry and exhausted… But surely, Hearts had only been offering some of his food to be polite? He fished around in his pockets as one of the servers came over, and he ordered another dozen of the cookies - the same number that he’d eaten. He could distantly sense the server’s concern and wouldn’t let the other not take his money. He was fine thank you very much.

Hearts came back, a gloriously huge, sticky and frosting-covered cinnabunny on a plate in one hand, and a large cup of something that smelled heavenly in the other. “Here you go, darling. They wouldn’t let me purchase more than one of each of these, but they should help you even out a bit… Mind telling me why you’re so low, darling? I know for a fact that Mi Rey and the others haven’t been fighting today - I’d have joined in on the fun…”

Dream sent the other a small, fake smile as he took the food and drink, murmuring a quiet “Thank… Thank you, Hearts.” His soul ached and burned as Hearts referred to Nightmare by that affectionate pet name. While most would be utterly confused as to how the other could possibly describe the lord of all darkness as a star, Dream could easily see it. The other’s radiant presence and his dry, witty humor. His fiendishly clever jokes and teasing nature… The fact that he drew everyone in, and so many orbited around him, like planets and moons around a star… Stars above only knew that Nightmare was still the center of his multiverse, and always would be. The tickle in the back of his throat and the pain in his soul began to intensify. No, please, not in public. Not in front of Hearts Dream pleaded with his treacherous body. He reached for the large mug of “Oh! I didn’t know that they sold golden flower tea…” He remarked as he took a sip of the drink.

“Hmmm… Let me guess, Ink’s been running you ragged, again.” Hearts murmured “And they do, but it’s not something that they sell often. Don’t think that I don’t see an obvious dodge in conversational topic when I see one. If you need me to kidnap you for a couple of days, just tell me! Running around with you is so much fun.”

“… It’s something like that.” Dream admitted quietly. While he didn’t like throwing blame on Ink when, for once, the protector of the AUs wasn’t to blame for this, the soulless skeleton was an easy target - particularly as Hearts didn’t care much at all for the other. “So… So how have you been?”

“I’ve been doing great actually! Night’s been doing this thing for the past couple of years where he reaches out to the survivors of the negative timelines and negotiates with them, rather than simply just terrorizing them into submission. Funnily enough, a bit of sweet talking from that lovely silver tongue of his and they quite eagerly agree to join his ranks. Of course, it doesn’t always work, or they try to stab him, and then we fight the idiots into submission, but there’s been less murder overall. So how have things been going for you, darling?” Hearts responded brightly, grinning at the smaller skeleton as he watches the other eat and drink carefully. Dream really does look awful. “I thought that you couldn’t get sick?”

“I… I can’t catch common ailments, though there is… There are… A couple of things that can affect me. Powerful curses and the like, mostly. Immortality does have its’ downsides, after all.” Dream responded “Hahaha-ghk!” He dropped the tea he’d been about to take a sip up clapping both of his hands over his mouth as he shut his jaw tight. The positive spirit began to cough and gasp raggedly, his whole body shuddering at the force of the coughs that wracked his form. Tears formed in his eyes as he continued to cough and splutter, feeling the petals tickle the back of his throat and fill the inside of his mouth. But he couldn’t let the blooms escape - as Hearts would definitely know what was going on. The force of his coughing caused Dream to fall off of the stool he’d been sitting on, and he fell hard on one side, a soft whimper of pain leaving him.

Why was everything so dark? It took Dream a couple of moments to realize that he’d turned off his eye lights. After that moment of realization, the positive spirit turns his eye lights back on, to see Hearts hovering over him, worry in the other’s aura and on his face - a circle of curious and concerned mortal onlookers moving towards him, forming a circle. “Dreamy… Dream! Hey… What was that?” Hearts asked, his eye lights tiny pinpricks as he and a dozen other people Checked him repeatedly.

“I… I did tell you I was feeling a little bit under the weather. Don’t worry though, I know just what will fix it!” Dream responded, bringing his hands away from his mouth and wincing a little as he heard the beings around him gasp - as petals from the eight different flowers that grew within his soul and body fell from them. “… I’m fine… Really…” He smiled warmly up at Hearts and the onlookers, gently nudging away their worry and fear with his aura. The strangers dispersed.

“If you’re fine, then why haven’t you tried moving?” Hearts demanded, his voice calm and aura serene - but that was likely due to Dream’s own influence.

“Uhhh…” Dream began, trying frantically to come up with some sort of answer that wasn’t a lie nor a truth “I… Haven’t tried to yet?”

“Haven’t or can’t! You’re suffering a really bad case of the Curse of the Lovelorn! You need to be in a hospital with the best healers possible while I beat the sense into whoever the fuck you’re in love with to realize how amazing and wonderful you are, Dream!” Hearts hissed, his eye lights narrowing to slits “And stop using your magic to keep me calm. I know that’s what you’re doing. It’s a sweet thought, but I have every right to be angry. Which ones of those stupid Star Sanses is it?”

“Oh, Hearts. Whoever said I was in love with one of them?” The positive spirit responded weakly as he tried to sit up, his head spinning unpleasantly as he fell back-

Into the other’s lap? Odd, Dream had been expecting more cold pavement. It was more than he deserved, this gentle warmth under his head, the light, soothing touch against his skull. But it was nice…

“What…. What do you mean by that, Dream?” Hearts asked, his voice gentle, worried and full of concern and genuine care in a way that hurt so badly to hear.

“Hahaha… I’ve loved him for… I’ve loved him for so long, Hearts. But he’s never once looked at me. And how can I blame him? ‘M so fickle… Flitting from person to person curiously, never… Never really staying in one spot… So curious and just wanting to learn and help without realizing what it can really do once I leave… And he was so… He was so lonely and so isolated. But I didn’t notice. I didn’t see… Then he took what he needed to become strong, so that the two-faced people who I couldn’t see their darkness and cruelty for wouldn’t… Wouldn’t hurt him anymore. I suppose at first I’d just assumed that he’d always be there, and the pretty, painful flowers I coughed up didn’t matter - not when he found them pretty when I offered them as gifts, despite the fact that they’d vanish before they’d wither like normal flowers do…” Dream half-explained, half-mumbled to himself, his eye lights dull and shattered. He could barely see the other above him.

“Who are you… Wait… You’re not… You…” Hearts murmured, his eye lights widening in shock and realization, before sorrow and uncertainty filled his aura “Oh… Dream…”

“But he’s happy now. With you an’ with the others. I won’t… I’m not going to… Interfere… ‘sides to knock back the flowers… All I gotta do is fight him for about a half an hour. Let him hit me with his magic… Works every time… Stars I hate it when the flowers get this bad…” The guardian of positivity managed out. He grumbled wordlessly as the other started feeding him bits of cinnabunny and sips of golden flower tea, but he accepted them, nonetheless. “These won’t make me feel better… All it will do is feed the flowers.. But I am hungry…”

“There… There has to be a better way, Dream. This… This isn’t living.” Hearts whispered, horror and sorrow in his aura.

“Hey… S’okay. I deserve this. I let him get hurt so much for so long… ‘quivelent suffering. You can’t… You can’t tell him. I don’t know how he’ll respond and I…” Dream coughed for what felt like an eternity, dozens of flowers in vivid red, yellows and pinks - mixed with the occasional white and violet bloom - left his lips. Dream exhaustedly picked through all of them, finding nine red roses, half a dozen of the chrysthanthemums and a few of the hyacinth branches, arranging them into a bouquet and using a bit of magic to pull a napkin off of the table, gently wrapping the napkin around the stems of the vivid and softly glowing magical flowers and offering it to Hearts “Here… M’ sure the others will love them… They’re really pretty. Just don’t… Don’t say where you got them.”

“Why are… Why are you giving me these?” Hearts asked, the horror and confusion in the other’s aura rising higher still - Dream needed to calm him down or Nightmare would show up soon and he wasn’t in any state to pretend to be able to fight the other. And then Nightmare would just capture him, which wouldn’t let him have enough time with the other’s magic around him to get rid of the flowers.

“They’re pretty! Flowers are often gifts for lovers and you have several! Here, I’ll make bouquets for each of them…” Dream explained cheerfully, doing his best to make arrangements for each of his lovers, picking the flowers that were whole and completely undamaged. He made another bouquet and a half. He ran out of good flowers - but after he took several more bites of food and sips of golden flower tea, Dream coughed up more flowers, and was able to finish the third, and create a fourth and fifth bouquet, the flowers all the same, but in different amounts and in slightly different color variations. “See? Now there’s one for each of them… That way they won’t be mad ‘cause you’re late home… ‘m gonna go now. You have fun with… With your loved ones…”

“And where the hell do you think that you’re going?” Hearts asked, holding Dream down now, protectiveness entering the other’s aura - as well as further horror and more confusion “And why… Why do you… The flowers are… You… I…” The other seemed to be having some difficulties trying to explain himself.

Which was odd, because Dream knew that Hearts was very good with words. “They’re pretty! Like I said. And they make people feel good. I’ve made flower crowns with them and given them to Stars Sanses or their Papyri when they’ve felt down. They cheer right up!”

“Because these flowers are made of your magic. Made out of pos-positive magic.” Hearts whispered, his eye lights shrinking down to pinpricks.

“Uh-huh! Also if they’re placed down on injuries or on a spot where someone’s been cursed, it will heal right up, or the curse will be broken with no bad repercussions. It’s nice that even if the flowers hurt me, they’re useful for others… S’ nice…” Dream murmured quietly, a small smile on his face. He felt really dizzy, and a nap sounded really nice. He kept eating the food and drinking the tea that he was being fed, despite occasionally grumbling about it “Really… There’s no need to fuss over me like this… I’ll be okay…”

“No. You… You’re not okay, Dream. Stars above, can’t you see that?” Hearts demanded, his voice cracking a little in pain and irritation.

“I’m sorry I’m upsetting you, Hearts… But I have to look on the bright side… Otherwise I’ll start crying and feeling sorry for myself, and really, I made some mistakes and this is one of the consequences of those mista-… Oh no.” Dream murmured, feeling a shift in the emotive balance around them. He attempted to get up, grumbling as Hearts was able to force him to stay still.

“What? What is it now?” Hearts asked, tears falling from the other’s eye sockets.

“Nightmare’s here.” Dream whispered, trying and failing to get out of Hearts’ grip. He waved in Nightmare’s general direction, still not able to focus enough on his surroundings to actually see more than a couple of feet around him. “Hi Nightmare… I’m making one of your boyfriends cry… You should pro’ly smack me around or something like that in ‘venge…”

“As tempting as that is, the dark glare that Hearts is giving me says that attempting to do so would make him more upset, rather than less. What have you done to yourself? And where do you find those flowers? I’ve only ever seen them in your hands - but never so many at once.” Nightmare rumbled, his voice all deep and close, concern and love for Hearts mixing with confusion and wry amusement in the other’s aura.

Dream let out a weak giggle “That’s a seeeecret, Nightmare~! I told you then and I’ll tell you again… I’m not going to tell you.”

“Dream-” Nightmare started, irritation starting to fill his emotional aura “Kindly get off of Hearts and you will tell me where you get those flowers.”

“Hmmm…” Dream hums, stirring a little as if he actually had a choice as to whether or not he could get off of Heart’s lap. The other was actually holding his soul with blue magic, pinning him in place (which was incredibly rude) “… Nope! You’ll have to grab me yourself.”

One of Nightmare’s tentacles wrapped around his waist, and he felt himself being hoisted into the air. “You are going to answer my questions, Dream. Weak as you are, you don’t have a hope of fighting against me - and given the state you’re in, I sincerely doubt that your so-called allies have any idea where you are.” The negative being wrapped a tentacle around his neck, squeezing lightly - enough to hurt a little. “Besides, it’s not as if it’s a tactical question. Where. Do you. Get. The flowers?”

“I make them…” Dream murmured, the other’s magic starting to affect him and the blooms in his soul and body. But not enough. Not before -

The tickling, burning sensation in his throat and soul returned, and the positive guardian began to cough and splutter. His arms were pinned at his side, and his neck was held tight, so he couldn’t turn his head very far as the flowers began to fall from his mouth, the vibrant, magical blooms robbing Dream of what little strength he had. The positive guardian felt the shadows at the edges of his vision consume him, and he went limp in Nightmare’s grip.

[skulfuggery]

Playing The Nice Killer

Request: the legion's frank cornering an amab reader and threatening them w/a knife? lots of blood, crying and knifeplay, maybe wound fucking/blood as lube?

I stray from cozy pastures to bring you this, my first Legion fic and certainly not my last. Rated Grapefruit for gore & light n-oncon, read it on Ao3 here.

 Frank had no issue  admitting   to himself that he had a bit of a god complex. To say he was a control freak would still somehow be an understatement; there was so much more to his method than pure control. There was fear, the panic when his prey realized that he held their life in his hands. There was capitalizing on that fear, toying with the idea of mercy and letting them think that if they begged, pleaded, and bargained with all they were worth, Frank would let them crawl away.

 That became a bit more complicated in the Entity's realm. Under normal circumstances, nobody would live to fall for that trick twice. But once the survivors caught their first wind that Frank wasn't known for his merciful moments, their deaths became more resigned, a grim acceptance. Those who did beg stopped, and those who didn't made it a point not to respond to his verbal jabs.                                    

 He thought it a shame. The Entity's realm was both a gift and a curse, allowing him never-ending sovereignty over those weaker than him while losing half the fun of chasing them down. Eventually he just held his tongue, straining to hold in his taunts and give the same silent treatment that he was always received with.

 He didn't make the connection when another killer--the first new one since his arrival--joined them by the campfire. He didn't think much of it when he materialized in a trial. It wasn't until he caught sight of the new arrival, focused intently on the moving lips of the pig-tailed girl, that the opportunity before him spelled itself out in his mind.

 Someone who's never died before.

 Frank's fingers twitched. His Adam's apple bobbed in his throat, he fell forward and his feet were suddenly moving faster than his mind, knife flipped overhand and raised high in the air.

 He broke into the conversation with a single slice, running from the girl's shoulder all the way down to her elbow. Underhand grip, Frank whirled around as she screamed and lunged for you. Your hands flew up to defend yourself, not totally helpless even if you were no match for him. With practiced precision Frank forced a grimy blade inside of your guts, then quickly yanked back.

 You stumbled backwards, clutching your new open wound and screaming bloody murder. Fresh fear. Not practiced or restrained or in any way prepared for what was to come. Frank didn't realize how much he missed the sound until it sent tingles coursing throughout his entire body.

 While you panicked, Frank turned his attention back to the other girl, who had managed to get a good head start in the opposite direction. Killer instinct said to follow. The glowing crosshatch that she left in her wake was tempting. But not so much as his own hedonism.

 You had pressed your back against the brick wall behind you, shirt pulled up and wordlessly staring at your new wound. As though it fascinated you, the narrow window into your own inner working. Frank closed the distance in two steps, drawing your attention up in the same instant he shoved two fingers inside your newest opening.

 Again he trembled at your cry. Blood squelched between his digits and flowed out the small gap. He placed his right hand against the wall to steady himself, knife loosely pinned beneath his palm. Waited calmly for you to finish screaming before he opened his mouth. "I can tell you're new here."

 He watched the flurry of emotions cross over your tear-stained face, everything from terror and pain to pure bewilderment. Frank's grin beneath his mask widened. "What'd she tell you?"

 "Fffucking--She just--!" Frank tilted his head. You were pushing your voice awfully deep when he was sure you were on another octave just a moment ago.

 "Mm, cute." His fingers spread, stretching your narrow wound apart. But you didn't scream, this time you clenched your teeth and inhaled sharply, tears bubbling over with twice the intensity. "Not a very convincing tough guy, are you?"

 You exhaled as Frank brought his fingers back together. He was slow to push inside of you, savoring every new expression it gave. Soon his hips were twitching, bringing himself closer to you until your bodies were nearly pressed together and his mask rested firmly in your hair.

 And though you grunted and howled and everything in between, you never fought back. Because you knew it would get you punished, knew that he was the one with the power, knew that you were at his absolute mercy.

 "You know, the others will know how to fix this," Frank wiggled his fingers to show what he meant though he knew he absolutely didn't have to. You whimpered, tilted your head down further.

 "Others?"

 "Oh, sure. " Frank pulled his knife away from the wall and jabbed it down into a nearby crate, well within arms reach. "Couple others, they can mend you up and get you out of here. And since I'm so nice--"

 He pulled back and grabbed the bottom of his mask, sliding it up until it was pressed up into his hair. The Entity gurgled in the back of his mind, and he was all too happy to ignore it.

 "I'd be willing to let a newbie go." Your head snapped up, eyes immediately falling to his smug grin. He finally pulled his fingers out of you, looking first over his bloodstained fingers then at your wound. They never bled out as fast as they did in the real world, but his time was still limited. "I just need one thing from you."

 Your eyes narrowed. "No."

 "Don't want to hear my generous offer?" Without the mask there was no hiding it, Frank knew his excitement was written all over his face. Yet you shook your head again. He sighed without a hint of disappointment and moved his bloody fingers to his jeans, pulling down the zipper.

 And just as he expected, that simple noise changed your attitude in a heartbeat. You shrank away as you watched him undress, tripping over your own words until you could hardly speak at all. Once he tugged his jeans down his boxers were worthless, his cock springing up and poking out of the open fly. At the perfect height to push forward and rub the tip of his cock against your wound.

 You tried to squirm away and his free hand snatched your wrist, pinning it to the wall beside your head. Meanwhile he swiped away blood from your gushing wound to wet himself, shamelessly jerking himself off in your fluids. Your eyes met, and he broke away from biting his lip to smile.

 “Why don’t you give me a kiss?” You no longer hesitated. You shut your eyes and puckered your lips up, and Frank took a moment to simply admire that sight in itself before diving in. He grabbed you by your hair and pressed you to his lips, holding you there as his other hand slowly worked himself to orgasm.

 He held that for a long moment, amused as he watched your eyes slowly open and fill with betrayal as you realized that this wasn't going to get you out of this. He didn't want to break your hopes so soon, he wanted to let you go this time just so he could get one more out of you. So, with an annoyed roll of his eyes, he broke the kiss.

 "Well, a deal's a deal," Frank muttered on your lips. He felt you shake beneath him and he hoped you felt how it made his cock twitch. He pulled his head up and planted one more kiss on your cheek, brushing his lips over your ear as he pulled away. "You were a good boy."

 You tried to pull away from him but his grip in your hair tightened, holding you still. "Don't like when I call you that?"

 "Just...fucking...." Frank let go of your hair and you collapsed to the ground, your blood loss finally getting to you. You slumped against the wall, face going pallid as blood slowly pooled around you. Frank stroked his cock a few more times, really fighting the urge to finish himself all over your face.

 Then again, what was stopping him?

 You were barely conscious  enough   to feel the warmth splattering over you. First your forehead, then your cheeks, until you were covered in him. He wiped the last strand off on your lips, the head of his cock leaving a smudge of your own blood as it went.

 "I'll point the others your way." The voice was faint, muffled by his mask and growing dimmer every moment.  "But if I were you, I wouldn't want to be saved looking like that."

[spookyspaghettisundae]

The Ultimate Trip

He stank of booze and weeks of built-up body odor. The stench had baked itself into his many layers of tattered clothing. Not like he could tell. Nor did he care.

Clive had been a vagrant for the better part of the past decade. His relatives had died away due to natural causes, the lives of his wife and son were taken in a bus accident, and when he got laid off from his well-paid job and failed to find new employment after repeated tries, he lost all will to live.

That’s when he started doing drugs. Not the harmless kind, either—the hard stuff. The kind that made him lose most of his teeth. But also the only shit that pulled him out of this world, thrusting him onto different planes of existence, bubbles of fleeting, existential bliss that let him experience short-lived escapes from the tragedy and horrors of the real world.

Once he had flushed his money down the drain, he didn’t bother collecting unemployment money. Or applying for any programs. He had spent so much time on the streets, in the worse parts of the city, that he didn’t see the point.

The Man was out to get him, anyway. Why be a slave to the system?

He huddled in a corner. Concrete walls—huge arcs supporting the bridge—shielded him from harsh wintry winds. Wallowing in his own filth, ignorant of how badly he reeked.

And torn inside.

He wanted that fix. Needed it. But the last few trips had been something else.

Larry, another guy from his part of the slums, walked into Clive’s lousy little alcove. Clive shivered in the cold, rubbed his cocaine-damaged nose as it ran, and didn’t even bother looking up at his “old friend.” Larry remained standing and wordlessly leaned against the wall next to Clive.

Plastic and paper crinkled when Larry pulled a crushed pack of cigarettes from his jacket’s pocket. He produced a crumpled up cigarette from its nearly empty insides and held it out in front of Clive.

Clive still didn’t bother looking up and snatched the smoke out of Larry’s hand.

Again, Clive rubbed away the snot leaking from his nostril and asked in an unfriendly tone, “You here to sell?”

“Course,” Larry said, placing another cigarette in between his own lips and using a cheap plastic lighter to ignite Clive’s for him, then his own.

They both took long drags and blew out some smoke. Weird how the flame made you think of warmth, but the smoking only made you feel colder. Clive had thought that many times, a musing that seemed profound in moments of sobriety, but always slipped his mind in the ensuing drug-fueled trips.

“The usual?”

Larry took another drag and then answered while blowing out smoke, rendering his voice raspier and weaker, “Sorta. Different supplier, bit cheaper—”

“None o’ that shit, Linus.” Clive always called Larry by his real name when he started getting impatient. “I want a good solid ride to paradise again.”

“Why? You win the Powerball, or something? Look at Mister moneybags here, gettin’ all picky. What’s wrong with the cheap stuff?”

Clive sighed and then inhaled more smoke before responding. He could feel the biting breeze of cold wintry winds cease, as if the air itself was waiting.

Waiting for him to say it.

“Takes me closer to the other side.”

Larry’s level of annoyance rapidly shot up, audible in his tone when he asked, “The hell does that mean?”

Clive shrugged. He did not want to elaborate. Other dealers had cut him off when he got too graphic about what he had experienced on his recent trips. He also wondered if The Man would get to him, if The Man had something to do with it. Clive had heard such, and he knew there had to be a grain of truth to it: that the government was lacing drugs with experimental substances to run tests on inter-dimensional travel. Or mind control. Or something.

Clive thought it might be bullshit, but he believed it anyway. And the horrors he had been witnessing felt real enough to him. That’s all that mattered.

Larry’s question pierced the cold air around them.

“You buying, or do I need to come back another day?”

Clive let that inquiry hang in the air, much like the clouds of cigarette smoke only slowly dispersing around them in the absence of wind. He wiped away more snot—the fabric of the back of his fingerless cloth glove soaked it up.

“Yeah, whatever. Fuck.”

Larry blew out more smoke.

“Whatever? Fuck, man, I’m doin’ you a favor here. You know how often you get the best prices? I know you can’t afford it, but I’m always lookin’ out for you.”

Clive said nothing to that. He knew the cant. All dealers talked like that, in some variation. He used to work in marketing, he knew how many people fell for that crap. Clive didn’t need to fall for it, all he needed was his fix.

He crammed around in his pockets and produced the dollar bills and change he had gathered from begging that day and held it out to Larry. It was a small meal and a beer—or this. He could go another day without food, but he couldn’t go another day without a high to send him flying. Fleeing this awful world, soaring over greener pastures.

The slimy dealer took his money and handed him a small transparent baggie containing three yellow pills with smiley faces.

“Later, man,” Larry said as he quickly left, scurrying off to visit his next “friends.”

Clive’s hands trembled as he stared at the contents of the bag. The worst stuff he could have gotten. Larry and the other local dealers had been pushing these smiley pills lately. The first time Clive had tripped on them was when the trouble started.

Normally, his trips took him to places. Better places. Pleasant. But he was no stranger to bad trips, in fact, he had racked up quite a few of them over the years.

Nothing like what these things could do.

The smileys stared at him through the plastic wall of the baggie that contained them, through their hollow, dead eyes. Their stupid grin resembled something that kids were supposed to like, but all they did was creep Clive out. Or mock him.

Addiction really had sunken its fangs deep into Clive’s body. And into his soul. He needed a fix—any fix. But none of them filled him with such profound dread as this new designer drug did. He couldn’t complain, really, because this was all he could afford.

Every time, this shit took him closer to a dark place.

In his mind, he called it the obsidian mirror. A surface of smooth, black stone, reflecting his own image in tiny windows between irregular patterns of jagged, knife-like edges. In some, he saw his own miserable existence. In others, he saw his better self, better times. And for some moments, he saw glimpses of his past life. Of the good times. And times that never were, but could have been. All that could have been, all that could have been good. Of times when he had looked into the mirror, thought he was something like a god, on top of the world, high on life. Before everything had gone to shit.

But on these trips, he felt something else. A presence. Like someone standing right behind you, breathing down your neck, looking over your shoulder. But it was in front of him, staring back through that obsidian mirror.

He hoped it would be different this time. Third time’s a charm, right?

Prayed—he prayed to God, something he had never done throughout his entire life—that this time would not be like the first two times he had tried out this smiley-faced drug, fabricated by sadistic drug cooks hailing from the darkest depths of hell.

His shaky fingers scrambled to open the baggie and take out one of the pills. He popped it into his mouth, sending it straight past his chapped lips. Bitter, hard, dry. He swallowed the drug, forcing it, almost choking on it, with nothing to wash it down his throat. But this, too, was not a first for him—it went down.

It would take some minutes to kick in, but he knew it acted fast.

Clive tried to think of pleasant things, of those better times. Of another world where life was still good. Or even better than it ever used to be. Maybe he could steer the trip in the right direction.

But his mind returned to what he had seen the last two times. Something mirroring his movements. Something hidden almost entirely—but lurking on the edges of his perception. Preying on him, sneaking around him. As he wandered towards that obsidian mirror, trying to see the movies of good lives play back in those many reflections, something else mirrored his movements. Drawing closer. Moving towards the obsidian mirror.

From the other side.

Behind him, in front of him. Everywhere.

Reaching out with something. Not a hand. At least not a human one.

In one of the reflections, he saw his wife, Elaine. So real that he could touch her, that he burned with desire to feel the softness of her skin. Instead, Clive touched the smooth surface of the obsidian, saw it mirroring his movements, but the movie continued to play in it.

A warm embrace in a warm place, a place of solace.

His memories of his last trip lingered, flowed into the drugs kicking in now. Or it had kicked in already, and his imagination and the trip had fully merged halfway. Clive tried desperately to hold onto that bliss, those fragments of a good trip before they turned dark.

Before the thing drew closer.

This was no simple trip, Clive thought. Colors invaded the edges of his sight and before he knew it, he heard music in the distance. He could not tell if it was real or not, but it was there. These drugs. The obsidian mirror.

Right there, in front of him. Many steps away, but enticing him. With those thousands of tiny pictures of a better life, displaying moving pictures like myriads of TV screens. None of them bad, all of them pleasant this time. Clive smiled, but also felt tension building up. Anxiety.

This was no mere trip. This was a veil between worlds.

A thin one.

He craved the warmth of the memories of his loved ones. It drew him closer to the black mirror.

And so did his dark reflection, approaching the veil from the other side.

Clive lost focus, could see himself playing video games with his son in one place, but also an ominous figure standing there, watching them from the shadows the TV screen cast upon the wall. He could see himself in the office with some colleagues, lighting up cigars and toasting with some booze to a successful deal, but also hands reaching out, hundreds of hands, microscopic hands hidden in the flames of the cigar. He could see his wife’s beautiful face, almost feel the soft texture of her lips when they kissed, but also hollow eye sockets staring at them through the window.

Clive shivered. In this other-world, or in the real world. None of that was clear, the lines began to blur.

“There’s nothing to be afraid of,” Clive said. His reflection said. But was that really him? He wanted to think that it was, but he didn’t want to say that out loud. Didn’t believe it.

He was afraid.

The obsidian wall with its many pictures of beauty and wonder and happiness beckoned him. Finally close enough to touch it, he reached out with a hand and let his fingertips glide over its surface.

“I want to be free,” Clive said in the mirror.

Something stung with delay, like feeling the pinprick of a needle after the fact. He withdrew his hand and saw a thin rivulet of blood flowing down his fingertip, emerging from a tiny wound where he had cut himself on a razor-like edge of the obsidian.

“Look how the blood is free,” Clive said. But his voice came from everywhere, and nowhere. And muffled, as if hearing himself speak while wearing headphones, or hearing himself from the other side of the mirror.

His heart began to race. He wanted to run, but he needed to see. To see that life that could have been, with Elaine. The one where the accident never happened. The life where things turned out right. But fear gripped his heart.

It was there. The reflection. The thing that tried to pass as him, but was not him.

Although this looked like the best moments of his life and all the good that could have been, it was all unreal.

A trap.

The obsidian mirror was thinner than it looked. Clive struggled to move, paralyzed with cold and merciless fear. He twitched with feeble attempts to move and run but his body did not obey. Being frozen thus allowed him to see what was true—that the mirror was more like a window. A thin one, like a sheet of ice, though black and concealing what lied beyond—dark as the souls of the people who had made this drug, dark as the ones who convinced him to take this drug.

As his own soul, because it was he who chose to take it.

“Free. Free me.”

Clive reached out again, and smeared his blood across the smooth surface. He suffered more cuts across his fingertips, though the pain always arrived with delay, numbed by the spinning sensations of the trip, rendering it almost unreal. The black stone absorbed his lifeblood like the gloves had soaked up his snot. The wall pulsated like living flesh, bulging outward—ever so slightly.

He felt sick, needed to throw up.

Clive pushed forward, and the mirror yielded. It engulfed his hand up to the wrist like a thick viscous fluid, wrapping around it like slime or tar. Then it gently pulled back, pulling him forward, like his kid used to when he tried to drag Clive through the store.

The hollow eyes in the mirror—or just beyond it—stared back at Clive. Uncaring.

Swallowing all those memories, dreams, and could-have-beens. As they vanished, one by one, he could see the shadows beyond more clearly. Swallowing those wishes. Swallowing him. Spitting the man back out on the other side.

His skin was crawling. Like swarms of ants had built a colony underneath his skin and now rebelled, trying to break out of every pore with the fire of a million needles stinging his flesh. Then it stopped. Going from a living nightmare to such a pure numb bliss, that was how he had imagined dying. Sweet release from this shitty, mortal coil.

But Clive was not dead, he had arrived in another world. The trip had finally worked, perhaps in a way that other addicts only dreamt of—a trip that had taken him to another place. Not that it was a good place, though. Rather, it looked and felt like a dark reflection of the real world.

Plants that were not plants grew out of cracks and looked like blossoming crystalline growths, glowing with dim white lights. A purple sky with alien creatures soaring through the air like floating fish, wings wobbling and rippling like jelly. And black glass surfaces, everywhere. Like a magnificent blast had scorched the earth and turned it to glass, somewhen deep into the past or the future. Obsidian, everywhere.

Not reflecting Clive’s thoughts, not giving him surfaces to project his memories and dreams onto, but unyielding and uncaring. The trip had ended. Sobriety kicked in.

The mirror behind him was a wall. Still thin, but still solid. Impossible for him to break through in his pathetic state of body and weakened state of mind. He hammered his fists against it in futility, till the sharp edges had turned his hands bloody. It would take some time for the numbness to wane, for him to realize that this was not just his imagination—that these wounds were real. That these wounds would stay, and that the scent of his blood would attract things to him. Hungry things.

Something else had taken up residence on the other side—on his side. In the other real world. His side no more, for it dawned on him that there would be no way back from here. Whether or not the shadow had taken his body or just traded places with him, he could not tell. He only knew that this something felt a desire to explore, to see what dreams it could drink, what memories it could destroy. Something that thirsted for attention, something that craved the high of escaping one world to explore another. Much like he had sought.

Something evil.

—Submitted by Wratts