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kaidenya · 3 years ago

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Getting Caught ✧ MHA

Description: Headcanons for getting caught in a intimate moment with Hitoshi Shinso, Tenya Iida, Mirio Togata, & Tomura Shigaraki

WARNING: NSFW, suggestive content NOTE: This is a repost of an old SHITPOST headcanon I had on my previous account so if this looks familiar I hope you enjoy it the second time around!

“Nobody will know...”

Shinso

Shinso would go to his grave claiming that you were to blame for this situation

But in all honesty, he had been allowing things to build for far too long

You two weren’t necessarily a secret, but most people just assumed you were bEsT fRiEnDs 🥴

It was an honest misunderstanding

You had decided to keep physical contact to a minimum after an unfortunate attempt at holding his hand left you believing he didn’t enjoy any forms of PDA.

Shinso had just assumed the same about you.

However, as the two of you grew more serious, you found it more difficult to keep your hands to yourself

It just so happened your boyfriend had been working extremely hard in the hero course and it s h o w e d

You had found yourself admiring his changing physique and in turn, found you weren’t the only one admiring your boyfriend.

You weren’t necessarily jealous— you trusted him more than anything, but he tended to be socially constipated

And nobody seemed to know about you. Thus giving the other interested parties an unintentional greenlight to flirt with him. And there was one girl that had stood out among the sea of suitors.

Each time you saw the second-year girl perch next to Shinso it made your skin crawl, but no lines had been crossed.

Until they were.

Your knuckles were gripping the strap of your bag so tightly it ached when you made your way to where your boyfriend was perched outside

The second-year didn’t even acknowledge you as she continued her flirtatious ways and you don’t resist the urge to roll your eyes as you settle into the place next to him.

He had flashes you a lazy smile before focusing back on his phone screen.

Then her hand landed on his upper thigh

Let me tell you: sleepy boy was shocked when she touched him, but he was EVEN MORE SHOCKED when you took her by the wrist and tossed her hand to the side

You waste no time threading your fingers with his, rising to your feet and all but hauling him from his seat

His amusement only grew as he realized just how jealous you had gotten, a smirk forming over his lips as he set to teasing you

‘What’s the matter, kitty? You don’t like anyone touching daddy?’

NO, YOU DO NOT

You have no idea how you ended up on your knees in a supply closet??

Shinso is feeling very sure of himself above you, using the hand that was gripping the back of your neck as leverage to hold you down on his length

k i n g of dirty talk 🤭

Absolutely cannot help himself when it comes to telling you how pretty you look choking on his cock

Honestly doesn’t last long, but what do you expect? Seeing your jealous and possessive response to the girl he had given little to no acknowledgment had lit a fire in his chest

He was desperate to get his hands on you, to remind you that he was just as much yours as you were his.

And when he does— oh MAN he makes you forget all about the second-year girl

He has one of your legs draped over his shoulder as he goes down on you, licking and sucking at you in a way that had you trembling

You accidentally knock over a pile of brooms and mops, neither of you paying them any mind as your head lulled in bliss

If only you had remembered to flick the lock on the door…

Kirishima really thought someone was banging on the door for help. It wouldn’t have been manly— or heroic not to make sure someone wasn’t in trouble

Besides, why else would someone be making so much noise in a supply closet if they weren’t stuck??

So when the door swung open and he locked eyes with you, still panting and moaning as an all too familiar head of purple hair buried further into your heat—

He let out the loudest shout he could muster. Apologies poured from his mouth as he fumbled to shut the door

However, your boyfriend made no move to let you go. Instead, he hummed against your skin, only leaning back to nip at your inner thigh before speaking in a heavy voice

‘Better make this fast, kitty.’

Iida

So you’ve tried to keep your relationship on the down-low bc Iida doesn’t want anyone to think he’s distracted

We all know he just doesn’t wanna be called out for his obvious favoritism

Before you got together you were constantly pushing him, breaking minuscule rules in favor of gaining his attention. Nothing too immoral, but enough to get under his skin.

Like slipping into class just seconds after the bell had rung, nearly avoiding Aizawa’s attention, but never making it past Iida.

Or when a class had gotten a bit too stressful, the room filling with hot air as tensions rose and you had to pop open a few buttons of your uniform top

Then there was your favorite offense; desk sitting. If there was one sure way to get a reaction from your stickler of a boyfriend it was to place yourself on top of a desk.

Which is what you found yourself doing at the end of an unfavorable week. The two of you hadn’t gotten a moment together outside of your studies and you were growing needy.

So with a few moments of free time before class began, you decided to chat with Tsu and Uraraka, settling atop the desk between them when you had grown tired of standing

The desk belonging to none other than Tenya

Your ankles were crossed as you leaned forward to speak with Tsuyu and he was beyond s h o o k

Immediate hand chopping.

He’s towering over you, ranting about how your behavior was improper while keeping his hands clenched in an attempt to keep from running his fingertips along your thighs.

When was the last time you were this close to him? It had to have been longer than he realized for him to have such a strong reaction— are you biting your lip??

Any response between you died off as Aizawa addressed the class and you were sent back to your seat, leaving Iida far more frazzled than you realized

The moment class ends he has you tucked under an empty stairwell to continue his lecture

Only he doesn’t get very far

Tenya Iida has an authority kink. I take no criticism.

When you look up at him from under your lashes, muttering the words ‘yes sir’ as he chastised you, his resolve was shattered

Has you pressed against the wall immediately, fisting your blazer as he dips to press his forehead to yours

‘Why must you push me?’

Doesn’t even let you answer before his mouth is covering yours, hips arching to grind his obvious arousal against you

Knowing he had been just as affected by your as you had him was enough to spur a moan past your lips and he takes the chance to slide his tongue into your mouth

Although he was MORTIFIED at the impropriety of it all, he couldn’t resist the sweet noises you made as he expertly worked against you

His hand eventually slides between you, pushing past the waistband of your bottoms and grinding his palm against you teasingly

‘Now, who do you belong to, darling?’

You you youyouyou—

Your hand was rubbing along Iida’s hard cock, his length straining against his pants to the point you’re almost worried they’ll rip

Somehow the two of you had been so lost in one another that you hadn’t heard the door open at the top of the stairwell

Denki and Mineta honestly weren’t creeping this time— they just wanted a snack from the vending machine adjacent to you!

Got a whole ass meal instead 👁👄👁

A moan tore from your throat, quickly being smothered by Tenya’s parted lips as you came on his fingers

You had barely made out the echoing sound of objects clattering to the ground through the ringing in your ears

But your boyfriend had heard

His lips separated from you in an instant, shocked gaze shifting into something closer to anger as he recognized your classmates

Denki began stammering out an apology, looking close to short-circuiting as his attention flickered between you

Mineta had let his gaze linger on you for too long. His eyes taking in the way your exposed chest— Tenya must have pulled the buttons loose

You cringe away from his gaze, post-orgasm haze™ spurring you to tuck yourself closer to Tenya to avoid their stares rather than snap at them

It was your obvious discomfort that had kicked Iida into gear, twisting to thread your button your blouse together before rounding on the others

If embarrassment wasn’t enough, the thought of them having seen you in such a vulnerable position had him seething as he began his lecture

Attempts hand chopping them into submission, but they kept disregarding his words in favor of catching another glimpse of you in a fucked out state

All fondness for his classmates had vanished as he stepped into their line of sight, shielding you from their gazes. His eyes almost daring them to continue

Whatever words lingering on their tongues died off, heads bowing in shame as they agreed to keep the entire situation to themselves

After all, the potential wrath of Tenya Iida was not something to be taken lightly.

Mirio

Mirio’s love language is touch, without a doubt, so it’s honestly surprising when he’s NOT trying to get handsy with you

He’s always defended his obvious displays of affection by claiming he had so little free time— he’d be a fool to waste the opportunity to touch you!

Mirio jumped at the opportunity to feel you against him. Whether it was a heavy kiss to your lips after walking you to class, a hand slipping under your shirt to caress your back, or his fingers trailing teasingly along your thigh.

However, as much as he was attentive, he was also forgetful.

It was because of that forgetfulness that you found yourself alone in your dorm. Countless boxes of takeout were lined up on your desk and a pre-planned movie was ready to play on your small tv.

After a few hours and countless delivered messages, you succumbed to disappointment.

The following day Mirio can’t seem to figure out why you’re avoiding him, but he refuses to give up without a fight.

Definitely thinks it’s a game of some sort and takes it upon himself to break your silent streak

It wasn’t easy being upset with Mirio. He had an uncanny ability to brighten any room he stepped into and being irrevocably in love with him only strengthened his effect

He’s always hard for you and loves letting you know just how you affect him— so why not place a hand on your hand, pressing firmly against your back when he slips past?

You always look so stunning— why not feed you compliments at every given moment?

How could he not look at you with the most iNTENSE GAZE undressing you with his eyes in front of everyone?

It’s when he realizes that you aren’t reacting to his teasing and flirtatious behaviorist that he caves.

He finds you between classes, stirring you away from the crowd, despite your wordless protests. It isn’t until you’re tucked away in an abandoned hall that he finally asks what was wrong

You had fully intended on dragging it out, allowing anger to push you on. But he spoke to you in the softest voice, looked at you with eyes filled with so much devotion that it was nearly overwhelming

He is shocked when you shove him away— were you tearing up??

Actually gets super defensive because he doesn’t realize HES the one that made you upset

Once you finally cave and remind him about the date he had missed it hits him like a freight train.

The two of you so rarely got time together and he had stood you up.

‘I’m so sorry, baby. I’ve been so busy lately— I didn’t realize I was neglecting you.’

Does not waste time making it up to you. He cups your face in his hands as he starts placing soft kisses on your face, cooing softly as tears roll down your cheeks

Did somebody say praise kink?

How can you stay mad at him when he’s telling you how sorry he is and that he loves you and you’re the only one his dick will get hard for??

It isn’t long before he’s pinned you between him and the wall, hitching your legs around his waist while coaxing you into a heavy kiss

His hips flex to grind against you, his hot length slotting between your thighs as he digs his fingertips into the curve of your ass

Mirio does not care that somebody could see— his quirk leaves him naked all the time and he’s shameless 🥵

But again he’s so forgetful—

And he was meant to go straight to class 1A to talk with them alongside the other members of The Big Three

So when he didn’t show up Aizawa had sent Tamaki and Midoriya in search of their future number one hero

How were you supposed to know they would turn the corner just as you arched from the wall?

Mirio had no idea anyone was there as he used the hand that was wrapped around your throat as leverage to grind you over the edge—

bOY were you embarrassed when you heard the two boys audibly g a s p

Midoriya’s embarrassment nearly gave Tamaki a run for his money. You were quick to turn away, immediately hiding your face in his chest as he greeted the duo in an overly cheerful voice

Absolutely teases the three of you over the incident FOREVER!!

Shigaraki

Shigaraki was obsessed with you.

There was no way around how infatuated he had become and it only seemed to grow alongside your relationship

He was touch starved. The moment you began giving him physical affection and attention it was game over

He had no shame, especially when it came to his desire for you, which is how you often found yourself perched on his lap no matter the company.

That being said, the leader of the League of Villains became intolerable when the two of you were separated for long.

And a recent spiral of events has prevented you from returning to the hideout, thus leaving the others to deal with him

You weren’t expected to return until the following week. Aside from texting Shigaraki endlessly (didn’t he have anything better to do?) and assuring Twice and Toga that you’d be returning as soon as possible, you hadn’t had much contact with the League

Shigaraki was wound up tight, lashing out at the others far more than usual. That was how he ended up sitting at the bar, Father concealing his annoyance as Kurogiri took over the meeting.

And suddenly you were walking in, muttering a quick apology before taking the only available seat beside Toga

Shigaraki could not keep his eyes off of you, something that doesn’t go unnoticed by the others. It was the most present he had been since you left.

Of course, that meant Dabi has also noticed and never missing an opportunity to mess with their ruthless leader he shifted closer from his place behind you, muttering small talk into your ear

There is no doubt in my mind that Shigaraki was staring at you both like 😠 behind Father

Luckily the meeting had been wrapping up upon your arrival and the group was dismissed, many leaving to handle their own business.

However, the moment you had leaped to your feet Tomura had vanished from the room

With a sigh you moved over to the bar, sliding into the seat that had once been occupied by your man and Kurogiri placed a drink before you

By the time you had downed the last bit the bar had gotten eerily quiet, though when you shifted to speak to the Misty Man he was already looking over your shoulder. With a single nod, he had left the room.

The moment he was gone leather artist gloves shoved under your top, your heart racing at the all too familiar feeling as a palm settled between your shoulders

‘I’ve missed you, pet.’

There was a harsh tone to his voice, but it was contradicted by the trail of open-mouthed kisses he pressed along your neck and shoulder

Your entire body arched against him, head craning back to catch a glimpse of him, smiling widely as you met his gaze and returned the sentiment

A scoff slid past his lips, though you could see the amusement dancing in his gaze as his hand reached around to wrap around your throat

Despite the gloves, he kept a pinky in the air

His mouth covers yours in a sloppy kiss as his hips jolt sharply against you, knocking you against the countertop

Absolutely cannot control himself as he ruts against you, wasting little to no time in pushing your bottoms down past your thighs

Heat pooled in your stomach as his free hand reached between you to pull himself from his jeans

His dick slid between your thighs, a throaty whine sliding past your lips and despite the slick from your arousal the thick head stretched you perfectly

You had been completely lost in him, moaning and whining freely as he continued to rut against you.

There was a click throughout the room, similar to the door handle being twisted and your attention was adverted to the source

However, Shigaraki was faster.

He grabbed the back of your head and using his hold as leverage to press your face flat against the bar-top while his other hand worked against your sensitive center. A loud moan that was undoubtedly his name tumbled past your lips

‘There’s my��little slut— louder, make sure they know who makes you feel this good.’

Unbeknownst to you, the person he wanted to be sure knew you were his had entered the room, Tomura meeting his gaze with a smirk as you began chanting his name like a prayer

A harsh thrust of his hips sent you over the edge as you came on his cock, filthy praises slipping past his lips as his hot release rolled down your thighs

He placed another sloppy kiss on the back of your neck before parting from you.

The moment you lift your head and begin adjusting yourself you lock eyes with Dabi

Embarrassed didn’t even begin to explain how you felt as Tomura let out a loud laugh, reaching down to pull your bottoms up after he had tucked himself away

‘Go wait on my bed while I speak with Dabi and I may let you come on my tongue.’

You wasted no time hurrying away from the two, heart pounding from both excitement and humiliation as you rushed to do as you were told

#iida x reader #mirio x reader #shigaraki x reader #shinso x reader #tenya x reader #mirio headcanons #iida headcanons #shinso headcanons #shigaraki headcanons #my hero academia #my heado academia headcanons

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suchalonelysunflower · 3 years ago

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The Siren’s Song (c.h)

Where The Storm Gathers - Chapter 3

Pairing: Stable Lad! Calum Hood x Princess! Reader

Summary: A glance of hope stands in the distance as Y/N and Calum set sails to see some old friends, but the waters are not as calm as they seem.

Warnings: Mentions of murder; Torture; Violence; Blood; Abuse; Sickness; Manipulation; Language; Some grammatical errors (English is not my first language, I’m sorry)

Word Count: 7.5 K

Author’s Note: Had to divide the chapter into two, you’ll understand why next week ;) This is the last boring chapter, I promise. Remember that Reblogs, Feedback, Comments and Likes help a lot (please help out of this ban!) 💕 Hope you like it and Happy Reading 🦋🌻✨

My Materialist // tag list on bio!

Book 2 Materialist || Prologue || Chapter one || Chapter two

Ashton could hear the distant sound of thunder rumbling all over the kingdom. He thought that if he could hear that, then maybe the storm was closer than anyone could anticipate. He hasn’t seen the rain in months, let alone the sun.

He got himself into this mess, he thought. He should’ve fought harder and stopped being so naive in regards to his father.

Ever since Y/N left, he made sure to let everyone know exactly the type of person the King of RoseWood was. Letters were sent and crows were removed from their positions in different courts. Ashton would look for allies to his cause; allies that could potentially help him to take the power from his father once and for all.

It was not Ashton’s plan to take the crown at such a young age, he never asked for this even though it was bestowed upon him since birth. But he would do whatever it takes to keep his family, loved ones, and people safe; and it was more than clear that his father could not provide that same kind of security and comfort.

After the failed attempt to get his daughter married to the King of the Vail and take control of their army, King Richard went into what villagers called “a madman serenade” If the rumors said that he had lost his mind and his thirst for blood was as strong as ever, he would make sure to comply.

Richard brought the kingdom ruin, taking men out of their homes and putting them into training fields. He recruited the most fearless, sadistic men of the crow’s army and put them in charge of his new order. He lost his mind to the delusion that he will run all the kingdoms and turn them into an empire. And Ashton was almost about to uncover his plan when he was suddenly taken in the middle of the night and thrown in the dungeons like a dog.

Accused of treason and deprived of any contact with the outside and its people, Ashton swore he would not let his father win. He endured the tortures with a straight face, not saying a word to anyone that tried to pull something out of him. He spent countless nights without sleep, weeks without food, and days without water, all so that the cause and his sister could be safe.

He knew they would come for her eventually, he just hoped they had more time. Maybe he could’ve escaped by now and warned her, to make sure she and Calum are safe from the deathly grip of their father...

But instead, he was sitting in his cell once again, eyes fixed on the same spot on the wall as his lips were dry and sealed, even when the pain of the iron chains that rounded his ankles made him want to chop his limbs off. Feeling like a failure as he awaited his death. He has failed as a brother and as future King, and right now there was nothing he could do about it except listening to the thunder and the moaning of the other prisoners.

It was the dangling of the keys that caught his attention as it mixed with the sound of the heavy rain. He wondered if he was dreaming every time someone would come into the cell, hoping to wake up from the nightmare he was in, but they all made sure he lived through it. Never too much to kill him, but cruel enough to make him endure it.

“Diner,” The guard said in a monotonous tone and Ashton thought it was weird.

This guard never talked to him in a tone that held anything but pity and desperation, trying hard to win at least some kind of good reactions out of him even when the young Prince would lash out at him. Did he give up too?

Rian Dawson put the tray of food on the floor in front of the Prince. He was fidgeting with his hands, looking nervously at the door, almost as if he was afraid someone might come in at any minute, and Ashton noticed it but didn’t say a word.

“Eat!” Dawson demanded a bit too loud, but he wasn’t looking at Ashton, instead, his gaze moved nervously through the door and the tray.

Still, firm and stubborn as always, Ashton did not move or say anything, not wanting to give the guards the satisfaction of seeing him weak. But at the same time, he knew that the moment he put that piece of bread in his mouth, he might not be able to hold it after so many days without eating properly.

“Your Grace…” The guard then whispered, looking at Ash with a pleading gaze “Please…”

Ashton furrowed his brows. It was not normal for a guard or a crow to be this nervous around him anymore, and he did not trust it. After all, this was the same guard that would come every now and then to change his chains; heal the wounds just enough so that they don’t get an infection; and take him to his next torture. Why did he seem so desperate now?

“Please, I beg of you, Your Highness. Just-” He continued to whisper, but got cut short when a new set of dangling keys could be heard along the hallway “Shit”

“Dawson! What the hell are you doing?!” The Commander asked, standing right outside the Prince’s cell, and, once again, Ashton did not move a muscle to acknowledge him.

“They ordered me to get the traitor dinner, My Lord!” Rian said loudly, standing tall and ignoring Ashton altogether “But it seems like he would rather starve than be useful for once!”

His tone did not convince Ashton in the slightest since he could see through the lie. But it must’ve not been the same for the Commander who started to laugh.

“Let him starve, then!” He said ��Before he dies we would have to feed him forcefully until the King says enough. Then he could rot all he wants. Come, Dawson! You are needed on the training field”

And with that, the Commander walked away, but Rian only allowed himself to breathe once the sound of the keys could not be heard over the thunder.

“Your Highness,” He said calmly as before, still keeping his eyes on the door as he started to walk out “Please, please eat. For RoseWood”

Ashton heard the cell door close again and the heavy footsteps disappear in the hallway. Then, his hazel eyes shifted to the tray that contained a piece of old bread and a cup of water. His narrowing gaze suddenly became wide open as his head snapped towards the direction of the door, waiting for any sounds besides the thunder that could indicate someone’s coming.

His heart was beating loudly inside his chest as he leaned forward, placing one hand on the dusty, musky floor, trying to see if he could support himself with his arms without making too much noise with the shackles that imprisoned him.

Slowly, Ashton started to crawl, biting on his tongue to not let out any noise as the pain of his wounded wrist shook through his whole body with every little step he made with his hands until finally, he reached the tray.

With shaky hands, the Prince of Roses opened the bread in half; eyes immediately watering as he had to prevent himself from letting out a cheerful and hopeful sob when he saw the piece of parchment hidden in the crumbs.

“Help is on the way. Let the true ruler of RoseWood be seen again - The Knights of Roses”

Y/N fell to her knees, hiding her face on a bucket as Calum held her hair place soothing movements onto her back with the palm of his hand. It was the third time today, the movement of the waves and the worry set on the pit of her stomach made everything fuzzy and revolving, making her throw up on an empty stomach.

“Love?” Calum asked, wincing as she started to cough through the tears “Y/N, it’s okay”

“It’s not okay, it’s disgusting” She cried, wiping her face with a cloth.

They were kneeling on the floor of their cabin on the Kaleidoscope, the same one they got when they were just arriving at the Crimson Islands. But what once was an exciting, frightening, and adventurous trip, has now turned mournful and dreadful as they made their way to The Vail’s coast.

Two days ago King Alex received a letter addressed to the Princess of Roses, sent by none other than King Luke Hemmings from The Vail, claiming that her brother had been captured and imprisoned by their father, who was now starting to prepare for a war to reclaim all Kingdoms to himself.

Y/N and Calum stood there in shock and tears as they read the letter over and over again, desperately wanting to make all of this just another bad dream. But the nightmare was not over, in fact, it seemed like it was just barely getting started.

King Alex gathered a small crew and together with the couple from RoseWood, wasted no time in preparing a trip to meet with the King of the Vail and his advisor, Sir Michael.

“We cannot let that madman win,” The King said “Say the word, Princess Y/N, and we’ll fight by your side. Anything you two may need, I will gladly provide. I am at your service, Your Highness”

And with that, the Princess and the Stable Lad ended up on the Kaleidoscope again with Captain Merrick; his crew; a few other soldiers; and a few volunteers. Ready to sail and get to The Vail where other rulers are gathering to decipher a plan of attack if Richard won’t back down.

But all this stress; worry; fear and sorrow was too much of a shock for Y/N and Calum even though they tried to hide it from each other. This was not a simple game of sneaking around in the woods, this was a life or death situation with Ashton’s life hanging on a thread if they don’t hurry, that is, if he’s still alive.

“Do you want me to get you anything?” Calum asked once her breathing had calmed down, softly rubbing her back.

“A glass of scotch could be nice” She grumbled, getting up with Calum’s help as she sat back on the bed.

“Are you sure you’re allowed to drink?” Her husband asked carefully, sitting beside her as he held her hand.

Y/N furrowed her brows at him, trying to decipher the meaning behind the gleam in his eyes until it finally hit her.

“I’m not with child, Calum”

“How do you know?” He shrugged, placing a hand on Y/N’s stomach “You were not sick on our first trip to the Isles. And the Maester said-”

“The Maester doesn’t have a uterus,” She shook her head with a glimpse of a smile drawing in her lips “And even so, I know my body. It is not time yet, love. And, dare I say, if my father manages to win… it might never be”

Calum pressed his lips in a thin line, nodding at her words as he moved his hand from her stomach to cradle her hand once more.

“The time will come,” He smiled softly at her “Whenever you’re ready, and probably in years to come, it will be perfect. But, as of right now, my rose, I don’t think a glass of scotch is going to do you any favors”

She rolled her eyes lovingly at him, smiling as she said “How do you know? You’re not a healer”

“Nope, but I’m a guy whose friends would drink themselves to death and ended up exactly where you are right now” He chuckled, getting up from the bed and placing a soft kiss on her forehead “And I’m a husband who wants to take care of his wife, not make her sicker”

“Sometimes I hate that you’re a good husband” She pouted

“I can live with that,” He smiled, caressing her face with the back of his hand. “I’ll get you a beverage, though. I know Zach keeps some for the crew that get seasick”

“I love you,” She said through a sigh “Wish I could kiss you”

“Well…”

“Don’t even think about it, Hood. Get me the beverage and some mint leaves with lemon first”

Calum chuckled, “As you wish”

The stable lad exited the room with a faint smile that quickly disappeared when he closed the door. He hated seeing Y/N sick and he knew that the waves were just an added factor to all the turmoil she must be going through. He knows his wife; he knows she’s hiding all the pain she’s not allowing herself to feel. And he also knows that the stubbornness of his princess is strong and she would never admit it.

It’s all his fault, he thought as he walked towards the main cabin. He couldn't help but feel that he took part in sealing Ashton’s fate even though there was nothing they could’ve done at the moment. They needed to keep Y/N safe, no matter the cost. But why should Ashton pay for the crimes Calum committed by loving her? It should’ve been him the one sitting in the cell, not the only family Y/N has left; not the only family that loved her.

She’s already lost so much; her homeland, her mother, and now Ashton… She didn’t deserve any of it and Calum was more than determined to help her bring him back, no matter what it takes. They will not let Richard win.

He walked up to the deck, already making plans inside his head to let the guilt die down for a second as he concentrated on getting Y/N’s health back to normal when his pace was cut short by someone who purposely stood in front of him.

“Good morning, my Lord. Won’t you say we’re having such a splendid morning, today?”

There was something on Jack’s smile that made Calum want to punch it, something mocking yet sinister that hid something that he just couldn’t figure out.

At first, they couldn’t believe he volunteered for the trip, having just got to the Isles and finding a role in the court. He seemed too eager to go back to the Vail and help them defeat the King of RoseWood, saying it would be an honor to serve the Princess on whatever she would need. And even Y/N had to admit that was a bit off, but they needed all the help they could get.

Still, Calum did not trust him. And after he told Y/N about what happened back on the training grounds of the palace, she also started to distrust the man going by Jefferson. So his presence here brought more questions than reassurances.

“How’s the Princess doing?” Jack, also known as Sir Jefferson, asked; leaning over one of the masts with a glint in his eyes as he looked up and down Calum’s body.

Calum didn’t even try to hide his feelings towards him anymore as his hard, brown eyes stared at him with annoyance.

“My wife’s health is none of your business, Sir. Now, if you’ll excuse me”

But at the same time he took a step forward, so did Jack.

“Ouch,” He said ironically, “Thought you would be more thankful, my Lord. After all, isn’t your brother-in-law we are talking about here?”

Calum bluntly ignored him as he walked past the crow, bumping his shoulders as he did. Jack smirk, for his plan of railing up the stable lad, was working and he was also having fun with it, making it a personal challenge so for when the time comes to let all the truth come to shove, at least the fighting will be interesting. So he followed him.

“Who would’ve thought it would come to this?” He said, walking alongside Calum “A mad King, a Prince held hostage… Only, that’s all we know. Maybe things at RoseWood are more interesting”

Calum ignored him, pushing through the crowded deck to get to the Captain’s cabin. Jack’s voice became white noise as he tried to get the medicine he needed and then go back to his wife waiting for him at the other side of the ship. But then…

“Think of how this would’ve never happened if you never left. Or maybe things are finally working out for you”

Jack smirked at the way the stable lad stopped in the middle of his tracks, but quickly hid it the moment he turned around as the crow greeted him with a faux-innocent look of concern.

“Is everything alri-”

“What did you just say?”

Calum was fuming. The hair on the back of his neck rose in anger as a chill ran down his back when he heard those words. His fists were clenched to the sides, knuckles turning white from the grip as he dug his nails into his palms, reminding him to not lose his temper as they stood right at the entrance of the cabin’s hallway.

A shadow hid most of Jack’s face and Calum could swear he saw him smile for even just a second before his voice became soft as he said:

“I’m just saying that if you had stayed in RoseWood then maybe the Prince would not be in the dungeons, am I wrong for assuming that?” He said, furrowing his brows almost as if he didn’t understand why Calum could be mad about it “Royals can be tough, but you knew that before getting involved with the Princess, I assume. And then running away with her… Seemed like a poorly executed plan that started in chaos and, like most things, would probably end in chaos. Unless that’s the plan all along”

“What the fuck do you mean by that?”

Jack gasped, placing a hand over his heart as he blinked at Calum “That language, my Lord, very aggressive”

Calum grabbed the crow by the lapels of his clothing, pushing him against the wall.

“Cmon,” Calum said with his face only inches away from Jack’s “Say what you must, if you dare”

The crow let out a small, sarcastic laugh “Oh, my lord. Was I wrong to assume how this could benefit you? Don’t you think is a little suspicious? Father gets mad, you marry the daughter and then suddenly the prince disappears… Who gets the throne once it’s all said and done? Now that’s a story worth telling, don’t you think?”

Calum’s eyes filled with rage as he banged Jack’s head against the wooden walls, knowing that people might be watching. But he could not let go of that offense as if it was nothing. How could he think that he could do that to Ash? To Y/N?!

“You don’t know shit of what happened,” He said through gritted teeth “You don’t know what we went through, what she went through. You don’t know our story so don’t pretend like you do and start assuming on other people’s lives”

“Calm down, my friend,” Jack said, trying to defuse the tension. “Maybe I’m mistaken but I’m just saying what everyone else is thinking already”

“What?”

“Don’t tell me you haven’t thought about it, too? What does Y/N say about it?”

“What are you talking about?!” Calum demanded in hushed tones, gripping tightly onto Jack’s lapels and making him hit his head on the wooden wall behind him again, but the crow didn’t even flinch as a glimmer set in his eyes, sending chills down Calum’s spine.

“Oh, may the gods bless your foolish heart, Calum” The crow sympathized. “I knew Y/N would be too kind to let you borrow some of her burdens, but for you to be so clueless… Must be a blessing to walk around like that”

“Like what?” Calum was getting impatient.

“Like you didn’t cause all of this”

“My Lords? Is everything alright?” Captain Merrick’s voice came from the end of the hallway as he walked up to them.

Calum let go of Jack in an instant, too shocked by his words to say anything else as he looked at him with wide eyes and an expression that hid too many fears inside of it.

Jack, on the other hand, just smiled at the Captain “Everything’s fine, Captain. We were just having a friendly conversation, isn’t that right, Cal?” He patted Calum on the shoulder and walked away without saying anything else.

“My Lord?”

“I-I’m fine, Captain,” Calum said, blinking a couple of times to clear his thoughts “My- uh, My wife is feeling a little bit seasick, I was wondering if you could help me get her something to ease her stomach”

Zach smiled “Of course, my Lord! Come, I have exactly what she needs in my cabin”

Calum nodded, “Oh, and Zach?”

“Yes?”

“If you can,” He said, looking toward where the crow just disappeared “Don’t let that man go near our cabin nor near Y/N if I’m not there to stop him”

An echo passed through her ears as she stood in the empty hallway. How she got there, she didn’t know; but it all seemed so familiar, almost like a dream. Only she didn’t know if it was a nightmare.

The clanking of the chains could be faintly heard from miles away as the hallway seemed to have no end, blending into the darkness.

Y/N took in her surroundings, looking from left to right and finding not a soul that could tell her what was going on. The humidity of the walls started to cling to her skin, making it seem like her gown was becoming heavier and heavier the more time she spent standing on the cobblestoned floor.

Then, a small, faint light came from one of the rooms hidden in the hallway. A candlelight gleam illuminated her path of darkness as she felt compelled to it, feeling the need to follow it. So she did.

The closer she got to the light the more real things started to become. Y/N was starting to feel as if this was not a dream anymore, a memory perhaps? She could feel the warmth of the light gracing her cheeks with every step she could, and, if she paid enough attention, even the sound of laughter would brush her ears.

The laughs were heavy, grave and she guessed it must come from a group of men. They were laughing at something, yet she couldn’t see what just yet nor she could hear anything besides the laugh and a faint sound of a whip, thinking that maybe they were just messing with the horse’s equipment as the drunk guards used to do back at RoseWood; Calum always hated that but they were always nice enough to pay back whatever they might’ve broken.

Could she be back at the stables? Was her mind playing with a forgotten memory?

Still, the crackling of the whip grew louder and louder as well as the laughs that couldn’t hide it anymore. But that's all it was. A whip and laughter, nothing else. So why did her heart beat faster as she approached the slightly ajar door?

From the small crack, she witnessed a group of men dressed in black, a red rose embroidered in their chests as they carried the RoseWood symbol with pride. They were drunkenly laughing at something -or rather someone - that Y/N couldn’t see just yet. She examined the men’s faces and couldn’t recognize them as his father’s guards, they weren’t the guards from the woods nor any that you’ve met before.

Yet, they seemed to be having the time of their lives as one of them grabbed the leathered whip from the other’s hand, laughing as he swung it over his head until it crashed with a surface while the others started to count.

Trying to get a better view - or at least an idea of what was happening - Y/N pushed the door open just a crack, hoping none of the men realized as the wooden door squeaked against the cobblestone, luckily they were still entertained with what was happening at the other corner.

The first thing the Princess noticed once she got a clearer view was the blood. So much blood scattered around the room in little splashes, pooling down in the middle. She felt her whole body tremble, feeling sick just looking at it, remembering the last time she saw so much red when Calum was captured.

Still, she couldn’t look away. It was almost as if her eyes were glued to the gruesome scene, following a trail until it landed on a target.

Her eyes widened and filled with tears; a scream threatened to escape her throat as she covered her mouth with both her hands to silence it. Her knees started to buckle and she felt as if she could throw up all over again, completely horrified at what was in front of her.

With a manacle on each wrist, each hanging from opposite wooden pillars and keeping his arms open wide, unable to sit or to let his body fall from the physical trauma, stood Ashton with his back completely open and bloody.

In front of him stood a small, dirty mirror where Y/N could see how he could barely keep his eyes open anymore; biting on his lip with each crack of the whip, making him lean forward and letting the manacles cut his wrist when he did so. Still, he didn’t say a word as the guards kept counting and Y/N didn’t want to know how many rounds they got before she got there.

Ashton’s hair fell in front of his face, stuck in sweat and blood to his forehead as his face changed with every hit of pain, only adding to his anger.

“C’mon, lads!” One of the guards laughed “Gotta be a lot proper with the royals now, don’t we? Start the count again, and this time do it more… gently”

The guard stood up and handed his friend another leathered whip, the only difference was that this one held spikes at the end, making sure to cut through the skin at just a simple touch.

Y/N watched in horror at how her brother’s back arched as he bit down his tongue, barely even opening his eyes to glance at the small mirror hanging in front of him, and she could swear that just for a moment, his eyes met hers before receiving another blow.

Unable to stand it any longer, Y/N barged into the room, making all of the men stop what they were doing as they stared down at her with eyes filled with fear as the man threw the whip on the floor.

Without wasting a breath, she ran to Ashton’s side and stood in front of him, trying to wipe some of the blood out of his face. But before she could say anything, she noticed how her brother’s eyes changed and were now filled with rage directed at her.

“You did this,” He said through gritted teeth, spitting blood at Y/N’s cheek.

Shocked and scared, Y/N looked around the room and found it empty.

“What?” She asked out loud, looking over at Ashton who also disappeared in thin air.

Her breathing became elaborated as she searched the room, trying to find any evidence that someone was there. Yet, when she turned around all she could find was the mirror and a different set of eyes looking straight at her.

For in that moment, her reflection wasn’t hers; it was her father, looking back with a proud smirk at the monster she thought she was.

The sudden shake of the ship made her jolt awake, taking in her surroundings with wide-open eyes as she tried to remember the dream she just had.

Her mother used to say that dreams are made of people’s greatest desires and fears; they could come from a memory or a premonition of the future and should never be taken lightly, for a dream was just as important as a thought. Dreams are the thoughts we don’t dare to say out loud.

A chill ran down her spine as her father‘s eyes were engraved in her memory; so cruel, so proud… Was she like him in a way when she ran away, leaving the ones she loved behind? Taking the easy way out, would he have done the same?

The simple thought of that made her blood run cold. She was not cruel; she was not a monster. She did what she needed to do to survive and make sure that Calum was safe. She made the only choice she could make but, would everyone understand that? Or would they just see her as her father’s daughter?

The sheets shifted slightly as Y/N’s eyes finally landed on Calum, the only comfort she had. She ran a hand delicately through his shaved curls, thanking the gods that they allowed him to sleep peacefully at least for one night and that she didn’t wake him up with her nightmare. He’s been so restless lately, she just wished to share some of his grief with him. She already put him through a lot, he deserved some peace of mind and she wants nothing more than to be able to provide that for him; let them be just themselves like they were in the woods, away from all fears and terrors and villains… just two kids playing around with fairytales and horse rides, so in love and with nothing to fear.

After a while, it became obvious that Y/N couldn’t go back to sleep so easily. With a sigh, she got off the bed, kissed Calum’s temple as he started to lightly snore, and wrapped herself with her robe as she exited the cabin; looking for a distraction in the middle of the star-filled sea.

Y/N closed her eyes when the cold night breeze graced her face, making her hair fly as she walked barefoot through the deck. All members of the crew and the volunteers were sound asleep.

She got closer to the board, looking straight ahead at the vast sea as her fingers grip the wood of the rails. They were still a few days away from getting to The Vail and once they get there, they have to start their strategies, plan the trips, know how many people to take, embark on the journey… who know how long it’ll be till they reach RoseWood again, but they were determined to do so. She knows Luke and Michael won’t let her down and they’ll do everything they can to get Ashton back and her father out of the throne; she knows she could trust them.

“Can’t sleep, Your Highness?”

Y/N jumped at the sound of a voice coming from the shadows of the quarterdeck, placing a hand over her heart as she watched Sir Jefferson emerge from the dark corner, smiling kindly at her.

“Sorry, I didn’t mean to startle you, Princess” He apologized, raising his hands in defense.

“Maybe you should’ve thought about it before talking from the shadows” Y/N sighed, looking back at the sea “We never know if the person hiding there is a friend or a foe, Sir Jefferson”

“And where would you place me, Your Highness?” He asked, taking a step closer to her “Friend or foe?”

“Am I talking to the same man that hurt my husband in training? Then, I’m not sure”

“It was a friendly match,” Jack said, leaning over the board and placing his elbows on the wooden planks as he looked at the sea as well.

“A match is still a match. You were lucky it wasn’t a duel” Y/N rolled her eyes “Either way, I don’t particularly understand the need men have for violence. For practice and self-defense, I get it. But to draw blood from innocent people… Seems barbaric”

“It’s in our system,” He shrugged. “Men search for violence even when they claim peace. We all know our nature and how far we can go, trying to push it beyond those limits until we reach the glory at the end. Even the most compassionate of men could tell you about the temptations of power and blood, maybe by doing things they know it’s wrong just to have a little taste of what it feels like”

Y/N’s mind couldn’t help to wander over to Ashton again, on how he played a part in scattering crows around the kingdoms in order to favor their father. He said he didn’t know why, but he still went ahead and did it; and even though she believed him, she also wonders if he ever at least had a slight idea of what he was doing.

“And once a man gets a taste….” Jack continued, biting the inside of his cheek as he watched Y/N’s clouded eyes “It becomes part of him”

“That’s awful”

“But it’s true. We cannot escape who we are, no matter how much we try to run away from it. If it’s in our blood, then it’s fate’s design to follow it”

The crow noticed how, suddenly, Y/N’s eyes started to water as she hugged herself even tighter. And for a moment, just a slight moment as the moonlight graced her face, he felt pity for her.

“The sea is quiet tonight,” He said, changing the topic to spare the little Princess, at least for tonight.

“I don’t suppose it makes much noise anyway” She answered, quickly brushing away a stray tear that escaped her eye “It’s just water”

“Careful with your words, Princess” Jack smirked “Or they might hear”

“Who?”

“The mermaids”

Y/N furrowed her eyebrows “That’s a fairytale, Sir Jefferson”

“Only to those who refused to believe in them,” He said “My mother used to tell me these stories, about pirates and adventures, but her favorites were always about the women who hide in the deep ends of the ocean. The mermaids are the protectors of the seas. Some legends say that mermaids are women who’ve been thrown out of their ships as a sacrifice to the gods; others, that the creatures were created by the gods themselves as a punishment for those who wander without the purest of hearts. They seek vengeance and justice, luring people of all around the world with their voices and deceiving them as they make them fall in love with fake promises and lust, sinking them into the sea with them. And, once they’ve realized they can’t breathe anymore, that’s when they show their true form. It’s a lesson, I suppose”

“Of what?”

“Never trust the beauty unless you can see the soul behind the eyes,” Jack said seriously, looking at Y/N “There are horrible people out there, Princess, hiding in their pretty clothes and all their riches, thinking they know it all just because they have it all. But no one is sinless, they know what they did”

The wind blew strangely, whistling through the sails as Y/N took in his words. No one is pure of sins, but could they ever repent them? She wrapped herself tighter in her robe, watching the crow’s back attentively as his eyes wandered over to the water, humming to himself an old siren’s song.

“My heart is pierced by Cupid

I disdain all glittering gold

There is nothing can console me

But my jolly sailor bold”

His voice was deep and rough as he sunk into a memory, thinking about his mother and all that was taken from him for people like the King; they always have it all yet they don’t care about their people, going on about their lives celebrating meaningless accomplishments as their people die on the streets. If he could get some of that power; if he could make them pay… And he will, by the gods he will.

Jack became no one of many names throughout his life, fighting to be the best in everything he does so when the moment comes, everyone will scream out his name in glory and gore.

“It’s getting late, Princess,” He said after a while, turning his head toward her “You should go back to bed”

Y/N’s lips parted as she stared at him; his eyes held something deeper than just a memory, they were cold and somewhat cruel as he looked at her, but only for a second as his signature smile was back on his face in the blink of an eye, making her wonder if she’d just imagined the familiarity of that glare.

“We still have a long way to The Vail, and around this time of year their days tend to be longer, so there won’t be much resting once we get there” He smiled.

Y/N nodded “You seem to know a lot about The Vail, Sir Jefferson. Have you ever been there before?”

Jack nodded with a sigh as he pointed to the scar on his left eye “Fearless warriors, they say. I have to admit they were right”

“They are a peaceful Kingdom and have been for decades” The Princess questioned him “Their King is one of the kindest souls I know, and to my knowledge, they only use violence for training and nothing more since the wars are over. I still don’t understand how you managed to get that scar on a Kingdom with people like that”

“Well, appearances can be deceiving, Your Highness. You just never know who to trust” Jack said gravely, gracing his eyes to the floor before looking up at her again “But that might be a story for another day, you should get some sleep”

“I don’t think I can, really,” Said the Princess “But that shouldn’t keep you up, my Lord. I’ll be fine”

Truth was, Y/N was still pretty shaken from her nightmare and the words from Sir Jefferson, feeling a sense of warning running through her mind. For some reason, she didn’t feel safe and was relieved when Jack seemed to understand and nod.

“Perhaps I have something that could help you, Princess,” He said, reaching into one of the pockets of his jacket and pulling out a folded handkerchief “I always carry some with me, just in case”

Jack opened the small piece of fabric revealing a couple of dry leaves on it.

“It helps you sleep,” He said with a smile “You just have to put them in water, cold or hot, and drink it after ten minutes. Works like a charm, or at least that’s what my mother used to say and I never found any fails to that logic”

Y/N smiled kindly, taking a couple of leaves in her hands as she looked at them, furrowing her brows just slightly.

“Are you certain this would help?”

“Extremely”

She nodded, “Thank you, Bernard”

He smiled at her one last time before she turned around and hurried to her cabin once again, speeding up the pace once she was out of sight from the decks, opening up the heavy wooden door and locking it instantly as her breathing became heavy and beams of sweat started to cover her face.

With heavy hands, she went to the small desk in the room, sitting in the chair and lighting up the candle; wasting no time in grabbing a leaf and burning it.

From the moment she saw them she knew what they were, she remembers seeing them in one of the Maester’s lessons.

“This is called La Torture De Méduse, an ancient poisonous leaf that causes a complete body paralysis, starting from the legs, then the torso and the arms, and lastly, the brain and the rest of the organs. All without the victim knowing since it makes the poor soul who ingested it fall into a deep slumber as their bodies die slowly. One can literally become stone, hence the name of this vile creation of the gods. Luckily, it is easy to identify if you notice the little green dots on the petiole and midrib. Do not ever go near them and if you do…”

Destroy them.

And that’s exactly what Y/N was doing as she watched the second leaf burn into ashes. Her mind was running a thousand kilometers per hour, trying to find an excuse for Sir Jefferson who so kindly and so naively, gave the leaves to her. He said that it helped him sleep, but these could not be the same leaves he talked about. If he ever drank the beverage created with them, then he should be dead already.

Unless he knew exactly what he did by giving her the leaves, expecting to receive the news of her untimely death the next morning when Calum finds her cold next to him. But why would he do that to her? They barely know one another and she has done nothing to wrong him. Nothing made any sense...

“Rose?” Calum’s voice alerted Y/N as she pulled the leaf away from the fire, letting it fall with the remaining others onto the desk “What are you doing, my love?”

She hesitated to answer. She couldn’t lie to him, but at the same time, she didn’t want to accuse an innocent until she got further proof of his wrongdoings, afraid she’ll become like her father.

If she tells Calum about the leaves and what they do, he will kill Jack with no hesitation and he’ll be sent to trial again, only this time he might serve time for real or worse: he’d be sentenced for murder. The law does not care if it was in self-defense, as far as the court will know, Jack never intended to hurt the Princess and it might’ve been just an honest mistake. And Y/N was not ready to lose Calum again.

“I couldn’t sleep,” She tells him a half-truth, leaving what happened with Jack aside “Thought I could use some air and then I came back here”

Calum rolled to his side, watching her with sad, understanding eyes “I know how difficult this must be for you, my rose. And I wish I could take some of that pain away from your eyes and hide it somewhere where you’ll never see or feel it again in your life. But all I can offer you is the promise that I’ll be here through it all with you, my love, we’ll be home soon”

“You’re my home, Cal,” She said “You’ve always been my home”

“Then come back to bed and let me hold you,” He said softly “Let us fight these nights together and share our mornings hand in hand. You’re not alone in this, my rose”

“And neither are you”

He beckoned her with his head and she smiled softly at him, turning around to blow out the candle and hide the remaining leaves on the pocket of her stash without him noticing it, promising herself to get to the bottom of it soon.

Calum wrapped his arms around her waist as he pulled her close, kissing her forehead as she laid on his chest with her head tucked under his chin.

“You’re the strongest person I know, Y/N” He whispered against her hair as his fingers drew figures on her back.

“Only because I have you with me,” She answered, kissing the side of his neck “I love you, Cal. Please, never leave me”

“Not in this life or the next, my love” He replied, drifting to sleep again with her chest pressed against his “Not in this life or the next”

Still, with Calum fast asleep next to her, Y/N could not phantom getting back to her dreams as she watched the moon disappear into the sea through their small porthole, hoping that the sirens would hear her pray and lure her to sleep in the midst of a dreamless sea.

tags: @iknowyouthinkimbulletproof @mystic-232 @talksoprettyjjx @theshyspy @hoodhoran @flaneurcth @conversecake @bubblegum18 @irwin-fletcher-ash @just-here-to-escape-from-reality @1980holland @wiiildflowerrr @hoplessromantic727 @fivesecondsofonedirection @another-lonely-heart @aabc5sauce @dudethisiswhyyoudonthavefriends @fakebetch9694 @5sos-imagine @SunflowerAngel2123 @perfectnouis @in-superbloom @lukeisstillapenguin @sadcupofcoffee @superstarmarvel @personalmuyverypersonal @cnco.angels @vtte @as-hs-blog @himbohood @sofiaaraee @irwindoll @lolzkye @weasleytwinscumslut @ashtonsunflower @nicebasscalum @calumspupils @secretsicanthideanymore @the-ghost-of-ash @alltimepogue @wontlastimokwiththat t @ttinahood @lukespitinmymouth @perfectnouis @cncoangelss @darrensos @whywontyoulovemecami @itwouldburnupintheatmosphere @yeah-and69 @fckingpernico @multistann @averageantichrist @a-darneddarling @tpwkcth @f-mu @kindahumanbutalsoinsane @floweronyourskin @ihavenoideawhattodowithyou @bittersweetb4by @aria-grace-scott @thestarsandtheircoffee @bvbygxrl @luisa180206 @xxxlaura @iamdayanaz

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kissjane · 4 years ago

Text

ONE-NIGHT STAND?! / Short fic

#7 from this prompt list

“Good morning, beautiful/handsome”

It feels like a marching band is practicing inside Lucas’ skull – and unfortunately, it isn’t even a good marching band. He really should stop letting Emma convince him to try out her deadly potions. The last thing he remembers is some frenzied dancing, when she had handed him a neon pink drink, which he had gulped back in one go. He has no clue how he even got home, or when.

God. The throbbing in his skull gets worse with every move he makes, however minute – but he also really needs to pee, and his tongue is parched. Some water sounds like heaven – it might also help with the nasty taste of dead bird against his palate.

He lies there for a few minutes, groaning and lamenting his lot in life, until his bladder becomes too much to ignore any longer, and with herculean effort, he drags himself to the bathroom, when suddenly he hears noise in the kitchen. Yann is away with his parents for the weekend, so – who the fuck is in there, clanking with pots and pans?

It speaks volumes as to the state of Lucas’ hangover, that his first reaction isn’t fear, but rage. Whoever the fuck is in there needs to be the fuck quiet, or Lucas will rip their head off. He stomps into the tiny kitchen, ready to lay down the law, when all the wind is knocked out of him.

There, wearing nothing but boxers, stands Eliott, humming happily and stirring – Lucas cannot pay too much attention to the contents of the pan, for fear of getting even more nauseous than he already is.

His stomping must have been loud enough to be heard above Eliott’s humming, because the latter turns around, and beams at Lucas like the sun itself.

“Good morning handsome! I was making you breakfast… wanted to bring it to you in bed. I didn’t think you’d be up so soon.”

He winks at Lucas, and Lucas – fuck. Lucas feels all the blood drain from his face, his heart is banging painfully against his ribs and he cannot breathe.

He takes it all in in a fraction of a second – Eliott in his kitchen, early in the morning – coincidentally, looking gorgeous in the soft light, but that is no surprise – in his boxers, and Lucas, mercifully also in his underwear, but it’s a tiny mercy, as mercies go – and then it dooms up, a freight train thundering through his brain, and – god. Fuck, fuck, fuck. Please, don’t let this be what it looks like.

“Uh –”, he stammers, forcing his leathery tongue and cracked lips to move, “what – what are you doing here?”

Eliott raises his eyebrows.

“You don’t remember?” He puts his hand over his heart, just under his tattoo – Lucas stares at it, and god, he can’t help it, but all he can think of is run his tongue over it – and mimics being fatally wounded. “Best night of my life, and you don’t remember it?”

Fuck. Lucas wants to die where he stands.

It would be just his luck – having fantasized about his friend for years, only to take him home for a one-night stand when he’s too fucking out of his mind drunk to even remember it.

Eliott stares at him, and Lucas – Lucas has no clue what to do, or say. He hopes against hope he didn’t blurt out a confession of love during their activities – he doesn’t dare to lift up his eyes to Eliott’s.

“What – what happened, exactly? What did we – do?”

Eliott’s voice dropped a few octaves.

“You only rocked my world, Lucas. You did that one thing with your tongue and I died and went to heaven. But I do still feel a bit bad I didn’t manage to make you come a fourth time, though…”

The blood is back in Lucas’ face – he must be as red as a firetruck now – and he slowly sinks to the floor, hugging himself.

“Please, no,” he mumbles, “God, just – this can’t be true…”

For a long beat, all Lucas hears are the sounds of the food in the pan hissing and the coffee dripping into the can and the insistent low drumming behind his eyelids, until Eliott speaks up, in his normal voice again.

“I’m messing with you. I brought you home and I was too lazy to go back out, so I slept on the couch.”

Lucas feels his lungs fill up again at Eliott’s words, and lets out a relieved “Oh, thank fuck!”. He looks up at Eliott – but Eliott is not laughing at having pranked Lucas. He is looking at Lucas with storm in his eyes, and when Lucas opens his mouth to speak, he makes an irreverent gesture and turns back to the stovetop.

“Breakfast is almost done,” he says, his voice clipped.

Lucas stares at Eliott’s back, his shoulders tense, his movements curt and chopped.

“Uh, okay?”, he replies, hesitantly, and it sounds more like a question. “Thanks for cooking. And for taking care of me yesterday…”

“Don’t worry about it. No good deed goes unpunished, right?”

Eliott laughs cynically, and it confuses Lucas.

“Huh? What?”

Eliott doesn’t react immediately, and then he turns off the heat and stands very still, his back still to Lucas.

“I didn’t realize you thought about me like that. Like it would have been such an enormous disaster to sleep with me.”

Lucas wants to say something, but he doesn’t know how to explain without confessing he has had the biggest crush on Eliott ever since high school, so he remains silent – and maybe that is the wrong reaction, because Eliott turns around to face Lucas, and his face contorts with heavy emotion. Lucas tries to decipher them – anger, pain – but his brain hasn’t not fully caught up yet, so he just stares at his friend with an open mouth, unsure about what is going on.

“I get the fact that you’re not into me, but you don’t have to act so fucking repulsed by the idea we might have had sex, Lucas.”

“But… You said we didn’t…”

Eliott’s voice raises.

“No, fuck, we didn’t, but it wouldn’t have been the end of the world if we did, like you are making it out to be! Fuck. I didn’t realize I disgusted you that much. It’s not like I would ask you to marry me just because we fucked!”

Eliott seems really upset, and Lucas’ head spins.

“That’s not it…”, he tries weakly, but Eliott apparently doesn’t want to listen, and he stalks out of the kitchen, into the living room where Lucas assumes he left his clothes. He tries to follow the thread of the conversation, but nothing seems to make any sense.

Eliott steps back through the door a few moments later, fully dressed, and with a grim line around his mouth.

“I’m off. That way you won’t have to torture yourself with thinking about us fucking, since it revolts you that much.”

And Lucas still isn’t thinking clearly, his head pounding, and he cannot stop the words tumbling from his lips.

“But I think about that all the time!”

Eliott, who had been trying to find his shoes, stops abruptly, and slowly faces Lucas, who is still seated on the kitchen floor, his back against the wall, his arms around himself, knees pulled up.

“What?”, Eliott asks flatly, without intonation.

Lucas takes a deep breath.

“I think about sleeping with you all the time. It – it doesn’t repulse me. Quite – well, quite the opposite, in fact,” he finishes lamely, stumbling across the words, staring at the dirty tiles in front of him. They really should mop this kitchen more often, he thinks, when suddenly Eliott crouches right in front of Lucas.

“Look at me,” he demands, but Lucas shakes his head – which is not the smartest move, because the throbbing behind his eyes explodes momentarily – and Eliott repeats, softly, “Please, look at me, Lucas.”

And Lucas is powerless against the gentleness in Eliott’s voice, and he looks up, staring at Eliott like a deer into headlights.

“Then why did you react like that? Like the world was gonna end, when you thought we did it? You sounded so fucking relieved when I said I was joking.”

Lucas knows better than to shake his head this time.

“Because I didn’t remember anything! If I get to have sex with you, I at least want to remember it! And because – because I was worried I had said or done things that would make things weird between us…”

Eliott doesn’t immediately react, and then he says, uncertainly, with a slight hiccup in his voice: “Like – like what?”

And Lucas wants to deny he ever said anything, wants to jab at Eliott as he would usually do, but maybe it’s his hangover, or maybe it’s the strange intimacy between them, on the floor in the kitchen a Sunday morning in April before Paris has woken up, or maybe it’s just time for honesty – but whatever the reason, he takes a deep breath and looks Eliott straight in the eyes.

“Like, maybe, that I would say yes if you asked me to marry you.”

For a long beat, nothing happens, but then, finally, Eliott’s sunny smile appears on his beautiful face.

“You would?”, he whispers, and Lucas nods.

Eliott’s eyes sparkle, and for one insane moment, Lucas truly believes the earth has stopped spinning. Then, Eliott leans in, grabs Lucas’ face between his large hands, and pulls him closer, until their lips are a hair’s breadth apart.

“Will you remember this?”, Eliott asks mischievously, and Lucas rolls his eyes, but hums softly. They are so close that Lucas feels rather than see Eliott’s responding smile, and then Eliott’s mouth is on his, and all other thoughts flee. He does no longer feel the headache, and the light-headed feeling he gets is so much better than any alcohol buzz he has ever experienced.

All too soon, Eliott pulls back and stands up, pulling Lucas along.

“Come on,” he exclaims giddily, moving towards Lucas’ bedroom.

“Wait, what? Where are we going? What are you doing?”

Eliott laughs, carefree and confident.

“Maybe I lied. Maybe I will ask you to marry me after we fuck. So come on already…”

#I write things #Elu #50 cliché prompts

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megalodont · 5 years ago

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@mdzswomen‘s Appreciation Weeks: Friendship

read it here or on ao3!

Luo Qingyang was almost finished changing into her sleeping robes—a task which took twice as long with wine-clumsy fingers—when someone crashed into her room.

“What the hell?!” She grabbed her sword and strode out from behind the privacy screen ready to beat some propriety into whichever drunk guest had decided to try and get lucky, only to stop short at the sight of unbound hair and red robes.

“Zixuan?! What the fuck are you doing here? It’s your wedding night!”

“I know!” He shouted, digging his hands into his scalp.

“I’m an unmarried woman, you can’t be here!”

“I KNOW! Stop telling me things that are obvious and skip to the advice already!”

Luo Qingyang stared at him. “Zixuan, I know you know where to put it, I was there when your mother—”

“Stop, please stop, Qingyang, I cannot think of my mother right now.”

“Well, if you’re having problems lasting, maybe it would help.”

“Qingyang.” Jin Zixuan looked at her in despair.

“It isn’t that?” Her friend did not answer, and for a moment they simply stared at one another. “...do you need me to take you to the doctor?”

“No!” He shouted, and then slumped, sinking down to sit on her bed, face in hands. “No,” he said miserably into his palms. “I don’t need a doctor.”

Luo Qingyang sighed and went to sit next to him. “So what do you need?”

“I don’t know. I don’t know!” He threw his hands in the air and flopped onto his back in a fit of drama. “I just—I want—What if—”

“What? Are you scared?” Jin Zixuan pressed his cheek into her sheets to look at her. “Of what? You married the nicest woman in the whole world, she isn’t going to care if you’re bad at it. She’s probably way more freaked out by you disappearing on her on her wedding night than whatever weird faces you make or whatever.”

This attempt at getting a rise out of him did not work. “Mianmian…” he said, using the nickname he had come up with when they were six. She so rarely heard it these days; she was suddenly reminded of a young Jin Zixuan coldly informing their peers that it was normal for the sect heir to be engaged that young, with only Luo Qingyang able to see how his hands were trembling.

With a sigh she threw herself down on the bed beside him, making him bounce. She turned to face him. “Yeah, Zixuan?”

He swallowed. “What if I like it?”

“Like what? Sex?” He nodded, looking ashamed. Luo Qingyang breathed through her nose and deliberately did not get up and chop her Sect Leader into pieces. “You’re supposed to like sex with your wife, Zixuan.”

“...I know...” Jin Zixuan did not sound comforted.

“Look. Jiang-guniang is very sweet and very pretty. And you love her. So you probably want to have sex with her, right?” Jin Zixuan swallowed and didn’t deny it. “Well, okay. But I am also very pretty—if I do say so myself—and you love me, too. So, here you are in my bed at night. I’m not properly dressed, and to be honest I’m still a bit drunk.” Luo Qingyang raised an arm demonstratively. Jin Zixuan stared at her. “Well? Do you want to have sex with me?”

“Ew?” He answered, horrified.

“Correct!” She beamed at him, booping him on the nose for good measure. He managed to muster up a weak glare, but seemed too busy processing to conjure any real indignation. “What about my neighbour? She was stunning, and last I saw her robes were falling right off her shoulder. Would you like to pop in there before you return to Jiang-guniang?”

“No!”

“Well there you go!”

Jin Zixuan blinked a few times, but his eyebrows were still furrowed. “But…”

“But what?”

“But...what if I forget?” He asked, gripping the fabric of his opulent wedding attire, hands shaking just like when they were children.

Luo Qingyang stood up from the bed, looming over him. “Then I’ll beat you until you remember,” she said, eyebrows raised. He looked at her startled. They both knew she could—she had been beating him in duels since they first held swords. Finally Jin Zixuan’s shoulder began to relax.

“You promise?”

“Jin-gonzi, this humble disciple swears to beat the shit out of you if you ever so much as look at another woman.”

Jin Zixuan huffed, and rolled his eyes. “How lucky I am to have such a loyal vassal.”

She cuffed him over the head and held out her hand. “Ready to go have fun with your lovely wife?”

He set his hand in hers, a small smile creeping on to his face. “I think so—fuck!!”

“That’s for abandoning your wife on her wedding night to sneak into another woman’s rooms.”

“I thought...you wanted...me to use that tonight...oh fuck...”

Qingyang smiled down at her friend clutching where she’d kneed him. “I believe in your capacity for creative problem-solving, Jin-gongzi.”

“Fuck...you…”

“Nope. I’m going to make sure you never fuck anyone but your wife until the day you die.”

“...thanks, Mianmian.”

#mdzs #the untamed #jin zixuan #mianmian #luo qingyang #mdzs fic #paris writes #rated teen for swearing and discussion of sex #this is a lighthearted fic but just in case #violence tw #for lighthearted threats and a crotch shot

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cinnamonboleyn · 5 years ago

Text

The Perfect Moment

Proof that I cannot write a short fic. It’s physically impossible.

In all seriousness, I dreamt this up and fell in love with the idea. I think part of the reason why it’s so long is because I loved writing this version of the characters and did not want to stop.

(which is why I may continue on with this AU...)

This is also my first time writing a ship for this fandom, I’m not sure how I did but hopefully I did Parrlyn justice.

In summary: Katherine deserves to be loved, Anne is a chaotic older cousin with a heart of gold and Catherine is just trying to wrap her head around the situation while still being her supportive self.

Please enjoy :)

TW: Homophobia, implied past abuse, implied past conversion therapy.

Word count: 9526

It came up one lazy Saturday morning while Catherine was cuddling in bed with her favourite person in the world.

Anne had one arm around Catherine, pulling her close. Her other hand was being used to lovingly stroke her girlfriend’s curly dark hair. It was soothing and comforting enough to almost lull Catherine back to sleep.

Before that could happen, Anne dropped her hair and tapped her a few times on the shoulder. Catherine obligingly flipped over.

“Mhm? What is it, babe?”

She pulled her fingers through her messy brunette bed head. She was all the beautiful just the same.

“I want you to meet someone important to me today.”

Catherine raised an eyebrow. “I’ve already met your parents. Do you have a secret sibling you haven’t told me about?”

“No..” She hummed, “Well, practically my sibling if you really think about it. Her name is Katherine too, only spelt with a K. Katherine Howard. She’s my cousin.”

“Oh?” The small girl dug herself into the pillows to meet Anne’s gaze, “So you two are close?”

Boleyn nodded her head. Her eyes were darting around the room nervously, which was a state Cathy rarely got to see from her.

“She’s eight years younger than us, and she’s had a rough go at it. I don’t feel it’s my place to talk about it… but she’s very sweet, and polite, and the most fun person in the world if she lets her true self show…”

“Anne.”

Catherine planted a reassuring kiss on her girlfriend’s forehead, causing Boleyn to stop her rant.

“She sounds amazing, I can’t wait to meet her.”

It was good to see Anne’s smile back on her face.

“It’s going to be a great day.” She promised.

It took them fifteen more minutes to actually get out of bed (it’s too comfy under the covers and in each other’s arms), but finally they’re up and manage to get ready.

Catherine is told to dress prepared for anything. Unphased by her girlfriend’s spontaneous way of planning things, she decides on a black cardigan under a deep blue tee tucked into black jean shorts.

Grabbing her laptop, she set herself up at the kitchen table in their flat and decided to get some work done on her book before the day ahead of them.

Typing up a storm, Cathy took occasional pauses from the clacking of the keyboard and could hear Anne talking from the other room. From the way her voice went up two octaves and how was wasn’t speaking with her usual slang, she figured the girl was on her phone.

She continued with her work. After a bit, a mug was placed down next to her laptop which made her look up.

“A splash of milk, no sugar?”

Anne grinned from above. Catherine looked from the cup of coffee to the girl now clad in a black crop top and a green skater skirt.

“I have the sweetest girlfriend in the world.”

“Don’t mention it, Cathy.”

She continued with a smirk on her face.

“I’d make a cute waitress, wouldn’t I? Too bad I’m only on the menu for a select few.”

Anne winked. Catherine rolled her eyes, but the blush on her cheeks was apparent.

Continuing to type out her story, she was vaguely aware of her girlfriend shuffling through things in the cupboard and chopping things on a cutting board.

What she wasn’t expecting was when she finally tore herself away from her computer screen an hour later, was to find the entire kitchen counter was covered in food.

Bagels, muffins, eggs made in all of the ways you could possibly cook them. Every single fruit in their pantry was sliced and diced just about every way imaginable.

Anne held out in apple slice that was cut into the shape of a heart.

“For you, my love.” She faked a very posh accent, drawing a laugh from Parr.

“Why thank you, dearest,” Catherine returned the silly voice, “And might I add that you’re the apple of my eye.”

Boleyn snorted, which just made Catherine laugh all the harder. Soon they were laughing continuously and as soon as someone would stop the other person would start again.

This is my life. I get to live with my amazing, wonderful girlfriend.

After they finally managed to stop bursting into laughter every three seconds, Catherine asked,

“Why did you make so much food, anyways? I thought only Katherine was coming over?”

Cathy knew her girlfriend well enough to know that if she was the one making breakfast, she perfectly content with pulling a frozen eggo from the freezer and eating it as it is. Ice and all.

This was the most effort she’d seen her put into a meal in ages.

Anne shrugged. “I want to make sure there’s something she’ll eat.”

“That’s really sweet of you, babe,” Catherine smiled, tucking a few stray locks back behind Anne’s ear. “I’m not complaining anyhow. I won’t have to make breakfast for a whole week.”

The writer went to put away her laptop. She carefully helped Anne place all of the prepared food onto the kitchen table.

“A breakfast fit for a queen.” Catherine took a step back to admire the feast in front of them.

Anne followed, lacing her hand in between her partner’s. “A breakfast fit for my queen.”

The two shared a soft kiss. Even though they’d kissed a million times before, it never lost it’s passion or warmth for either of the women.

It was the perfect moment.

They sat idly at the table, waiting for their guest to arrive. They chatted, sometimes teasing each other playfully. At one point there was a competition to see who could throw up the most grapes and catch them in their mouths (Anne won that. And she rubbed it in, of course).

Three careful knocks sounded at their flat door.

Without waiting for a moment more, Anne took her girlfriend’s hand and led her down the hall to the front of their apartment. From the way she was holding her hand, Catherine could sense the nerves radiating from her.

To calm her, she started brushing a finger over Boleyn’s palm.

Arriving at the door, Anne took a deep breath before pulling it open.

Behind it stood two figures.

The first was a kindly looking woman with blonde hair cascading down her back in waves. She had a bright smile, one that was genuine as well as a sincere look in her brown eyes that gave Catherine an immediate sense of trust.

The second was definitely Katherine. The girl was taller than the woman and slim, but despite this still appeared very young. From her conversation with Anne before Catherine deduced that Katherine was seventeen years old, but honestly she would’ve placed her at about fifteen if she hadn’t known any better.

Her hair was in a high ponytail, the ends having been dyed an electric pink colour. Her long face was stoic and gave away no emotion, contrasting with the other person beside her.

Really, there wasn’t much resemblance at all between Katherine and the blonde stranger. Catherine saw more of a resemblance between her and Anne, not that it was the strongest resemblance ever but it was still there.

“Kitty!”

Anne lit up like a christmas tree at the sight of her cousin. Katherine’s lips twitched upwards and her eyes crinkled slightly, but it quickly faded to be replaced by her blank stare.

“Come in, come in, both of you.” Anne opened the door wider, allowing the guests to step inside.

“It’s very nice to meet you, Katherine. My name’s Catherine too; Catherine Parr.”

The pink-haired teen gave a small wave but didn’t seem confident enough to look her. Instead, she became very interested in the wooden floor.

“Lovely to meet you Catherine. I’m Jane Seymour.”

Always smiling, the blonde woman extended an arm to shake. Catherine accepted, and was further surprised when the handshake led into a sort of hug.

Jane did the same gesture with Anne.

“Thank you for reaching out to me, Jane.” Boleyn glanced down at her cousin, her words clearly sincere.

“No problem at all. I’m happy to do whatever I can for Katherine.”

As warm and caring as Jane’s voice was in saying this, they only seemed to further put the girl on edge. Her posture stiffened and she bowed her head down.

There was a bit of a pause that would’ve been awkward if Jane hadn’t broken the silence.

“I’ll be on my way then,” the woman flashed a smile. Katherine’s reaction didn’t seem to faze her at all, she didn’t show a hint of contempt towards the younger girl.

“Have fun, alright? If you need anything at all, don’t hesitate to ring me.”

“Thank you, Jane.”

These were the first words uttered by Katherine since she walked through the door. Her voice was so small that you had to lean in closer to make out what she was saying. It was uneven and unsure, and in noticing this Catherine couldn’t stop the faintest of frowns from forming on her lips.

So polite… yet so nervous?

“Goodbye, Kat.”

Jane gave the girl’s hand a squeeze before waving to the other two women and heading out.

“How’s my favourite cousin doing? It’s been so long! I’m in love with your hair, you look like a piece of bubblegum. In a good way!”

Anne made no move to hug the girl, but was clearly excited to see her again. They all started towards to kitchen, and Catherine couldn’t help but notice the way Katherine was taking cautious and measured steps, almost like she was sneaking up on someone.

Or away from someone.

Still, the corners of her lips upturned the smallest bit. She unconsciously played with a bit of her pink hair.

“I… I missed you, Anne.”

There had never been a more adorable phrase uddered.

Well, maybe except when Anne called Catherine my entire world. That was pretty adorable.

Katherine’s small voice and shy nature just made Catherine’s heart burst.

However, if you looked at Katherine’s face when they arrived the the feast layed out in front of them you would’ve had the impression that she was looking at a crime scene.

Anne picked up on the discomfort real fast.

“You can have whatever you’d like.” She reassured, “How about I fix you a plate with a little bit of everything and you can see what you like best?”

Katherine nodded stiffly.

Soon, three plates were fixed. Anne had a skyscraper of pancakes on hers with half of the bottle of syrup poured on top. Catherine physically blocked the freezer to keep Anne from putting scoops of ice cream on top.

Catherine’s own plate was packed with bacon, eggs and half a bagel. The last plate contained a variety of foods, just as promised.

Katherine poked at a blueberry muffin, ripping off small crumbs and eating them slowly.

“I’ve heard so many lovely things Katherine,” Parr tried, wanting to make the girl feel welcome.

“I’m very happy to have the chance to get to know you.”

Katherine’s eyes bulged out of her head.

Was it something I said?

“I’m so sorry, I haven’t even introduced myself!”

Katherine’s frantic apology concerned Parr, so she did her best to reassure the girl.

“No problem at all. I haven’t even introduced myself either, and you’re the guest. Besides,”

She smiled lightly to Katherine, who relaxed a bit in her chair.

“You’re Katherine Howard, no introduction needed. Isn’t that right, babe?”

“‘Ouw wight!” Boleyn piped up with a mouthful of pancakes. She swallowed before continuing. “Your awesomeness speaks for itself, Kitty.”

The girl lowered her head, her cheeks visibly heating up.

After a few more bites of food, Katherine regains the confidence to speak again.

“It’s nice to finally meet you too, Catherine.”

As shyly as she spoke, Catherine could tell how genuine she was being.

“I- I haven’t heard much about you, I really didn’t have the chance to be told… but I’m happy to be meeting you as well.”

Formal, sincere, yet also stilted and anxious all at once.

Sometimes, Cathy wished she wasn’t so observant. It felt wrong to be so aware of Katherine’s small behaviors, it wasn’t her intention to invade her privacy.

No amount of analysis would have made Catherine ready to hear the response to the next question asked.

For a while, Anne was comfortably chatting in her energetic way. Katherine didn’t seem to mind the fact that she could barely get a word in, in fact she seemed almost grateful for that.

After picking at everything on her plate, it seemed she’d taken a liking to the cut up fruit and dipped each piece into a bit of Nutella on her plate.

She even got up for seconds of the fruit. Anne beamed when that happened.

Katherine carefully sat back down, her posture perfect. Her elbows never even got close to touching the table.

But the big question came right after Kat popped a Nutella-dipped apple slice in her mouth:

“Kitty, how has your stay with Jane been so far?”

The girl took a second to think, although her facial expression gave no clues as to what was actually going through her head.

“She’s very nice… she hasn’t locked me in my room once yet! She keeps the pantry unlocked as well.”

Unluckily enough, Catherine ended up taking a sip of water at that exact moment and ended up choking on it.

Katherine and Anne both looked over, Parr muttering an apology and something about it going down the wrong tube to play it off.

“You don’t know how happy I am to hear that,” Anne continued with the conversation, “You deserve to be safe.”

“... It’s only been two weeks…”

She sounded utterly defeated about what she was implying.

And Catherine wasn’t about to have that.

“I’ve just met you, Katherine. I don’t know your situation and I can’t even begin to imagine it. But what I know for sure is that you’re always welcome here and if anything happens in the future you will always have a place here.”

The pink-haired girl didn’t seem entirely convinced or reassured.

“... Thank you.”

Proving things like that will take some time.

It’s not going to happen all in one day.

Still, Katherine deserves to hear it be said.

It was clear to the writer at this point that Katherine was in foster care. Really, that didn’t make a difference at all because it’s not something that defines a person.

Catherine focused on the soft-spoken, mindful girl in front of her and couldn’t wait to get to know her for her.

Anne Boleyn was one of the best people at small talk in the world, which helped kick the upbeat chatter back into gear. Through the following conversation, she found out that Katherine was in Year 12. She enjoys music and singing, according to Anne she’s the next Brittany Spears.

“Do you have any pets this time around?”

Kat shook her head in response to her cousin.

“The fur isn’t great for Jane. But her neighbor has rescues and she lets me come over to give them treats and play with them! Her name is Anna, she’s a tattoo artist.”

Something else that Catherine noticed was that when Katherine got excited about something, her eyes lit up in pure joy. It was really nice to see.

She eagerly discussed the dog’s names and preferred chew toys as they finished the rest of their food.

Once everyone was finished eating, Anne took the plates and put them all in the sink.

“I’m about ready to head out,” She grinned, an air of playfulness about her. “Are you ready, Kitty?”

Looking up at her cousin curiously, she asks, “Where are we off too?”

“The fair’s in town!”

Anne jumped up from her chair and let out and excited giggle. Katherine joins in with a light laugh and a smile that Catherine never wanted to see go away.

The pair definitely looked related at that moment. Even if Katherine settled down from her excitement quickly (kind of like she was forcing it down or stifling it?), they basically had the same reaction.

Which Catherine thought was absolutely adorable.

“I can’t think of a better way to spend the afternoon.” Catherine piped up. Walking over to her girlfriend she wrapped an arm around her shoulders.

Anne leaned into the touch, resting her head on Cathy’s shoulder. The writer couldn’t help but press a kiss onto her partner’s forehead.

Catherine immediately regretted doing that when Kat flinched away.

It was as if the sight hurt her somehow.

“I’ll - wait in the car.”

Katherine scampered out of the room, moving quickly yet silently.

Anne watched her leave with a sigh. Catherine turned to her girlfriend with a questioning look.

“Is she alright? Did we do something wrong?”

“Kissing you could never be wrong,” Anne teased. Her girlfriend’s cheeks started involuntarily turning crimson.

“I know her reaction wasn’t, well, the warmest… it’s all just very complicated. Thank you for being so patient-“

“No need to thank me.” Catherine asserted, “It’s the least I could do. I’ll accommodate Katherine in any way she needs me to. And I meant what I said to her.”

Anne didn’t respond with words, by enveloped the smaller woman in a big hug and nothing else needed to be said.

They headed out to the car. Boleyn slipped into the driver’s seat, and Catherine was about to slide into the passenger seat but decided to sit next to Katherine in the back instead.

Kat seemed surprised by this, but didn’t tense up in anyway. Catherine even swore she saw a ghost of a smile on the girl’s lips as she buckled her seatbelt.

As the drove onto the road, the writer asked:

“How did you two get to know each other?”

“Oh, I’ve known Kitty since she was a baby. Suddenly I didn’t get any of the attention at our family gatherings.” Anne faked a pout.

“I remember following you around the yard when I was really little,” Kat recalled, “I remember once you pelted an acorn at Isaac’s car. The alarm went off and you blamed it on me.”

Catherine burst out laughing at that, Anne giving a sheepish grin.

“Leave it to Anne Boleyn to get you in trouble.”

Katherine cracked a small grin.

“But there were fun times too. There was the time that I begged you to put pink flowers we’d found in the near the ditch in my hair, and you said you weren’t all that great at that sort of thing… but you did it, and I loved it and didn’t take the flowers out until I was made to. Stuff like that meant a lot to me, especially as we both got older…”

“It meant a lot to me too.” Anne replied, “And for the record, I still don’t think Isaac knows I was the one who scratched his car.”

Katherine lifted her head curiously towards Cathy.

“So, how did you and Anne meet?”

This question caught Catherine off guard, for some reason. Luckily, Anne jumped in right away.

“High school, of all places. Wish I could say it was somewhere actually worth the time of day,” Boleyn made a face of disgust.

“We were in Year 11 actually. How could you not fall for this one when she slanders the patriarchy by correcting the approach our education system takes to historical events?”

She winks for added effect.

Katherine just looks absolutely lost.

“I… have no idea what you just said.”

“Most of what Anne says flies right over my head. And I’m dating her.”

“You find it charming.” She quips back, sticking out her tongue.

The conversation comes to a close. The driver flicks the radio on to avoid spending the rest of the ride in silence.

Some pop station was playing, and the passengers had a blast singing along to the songs playing and attempting to harmonize (which sometimes failed horribly). Katherine even joined in during particular parts, but never sang louder than a soft whisper.

They eventually found parking just down the street from the fair.

“Let’s go!”

Anne latched onto the arms of her girlfriend and her cousin before taking off down the sidewalk. Katherine was laughing the whole way, and as for Catherine, she was used to these antics at this point.

The three of them paid for their bright purple wristbands for admission into the fair and their senses were immediately overwhelmed.

The sounds of a roller coaster clicking down its track and gleefully screaming children, the smell of funnel cake and churros wafting through the air, the sights of all of the people out with their families…

Catherine snuck a glance at the two girls beside her, who were taking everything in with a smile.

“Watchya wanna do first, Kitty?” Anne asked.

“Well…” Kat shuffled her feet on the gravel beneath her, refusing to look her cousin in the eyes.

“Maybe we could do some of the rides for a bit? While the lines are still down? Unless, you guys want to do something else…”

“That’s a great idea.” Catherine reassured.

After paying for another green fluorescent wristband for their left hand, they were equipped to do as many rides as they wanted.

Anne chose the first one, taking the group over to one called The Zipper. It was basically a rotating frame covered in flashing lights with a bunch of free-flipping compartments to hold riders. It was one of the most intense rides at the fair, which is of course why it was Anne’s favourite (even though the bumper carts were a close second).

They tried every single ride there. The girls all packed into a seat on the scrambler, making sure Katherine was in the middle because the people at the sides inevitably get squished.

They spent a while racing each other on the slides, Catherine high-fiving Kat every time she managed to beat her cousin.

They walked through the fun house, they spun as fast as they possibly could on the spinning teacups and Catherine was just happy that she hadn’t thrown up her brunch.

If she had to choose her favourite ride, she would’ve said the roller coaster. Not that it was the most thrilling experience, but she enjoyed watching the way Kat and Anne would cheer and scream at the drops and sharp turns.

She was just glad they were all having a great time together.

And really, Anne was right when she said her cousin was a very fun person given the chance. A lot of her worried behaviours melted away, no longer putting a mask over her emotions.

This became clear whenever Katherine took the other two on her favourite rides. She enjoyed the merry-go-round (which she looked slightly embarrassed by), but Anne was great at always requesting it and Katherine would agree with a nod.

Katherine’s favourite, as well as their combined favourite ride was without a doubt the Ferris wheel.

“I love how you can see everything from up here. It makes you feel less small.” She solemnly spoke the first time they rode it.

Anne assured her that even if that was the case, she would always be her baby cousin.

On their fifth ride of the Ferris wheel, Katherine’s guard was almost completely gone. She snuggled into her cousin as they went up in the air, looking as if there was nowhere else she’d rather be.

Anne looked over at Cathy while this was happening. There was so much emotion in her eyes that the writer had trouble parsing them out, but it was clear that she reciprocated Katherine’s feelings.

After two and a half hours spent in the beating sun out on rides, they decided it was time for a break.

“Would you like to check out what’s going on at the main stage, Kitty?”

“That sounds like fun.” She agreed.

The three headed over to find a spot on the bleachers. It looked like there was a magician’s act happening on stage.

“I’m going to do something real quick,” Anne said once they found their place, “Would you like to come with me, Kat? Or do you want to stay here?”

Her eyes darted between the girl in blue next to her, the stage in front of her, and her chaotic cousin.

“I’ll - be good here.”

Anne skipped away, leaving the two girls alone.

A comfortable silence set in as they watched the magic tricks being performed.

“How are you enjoying the fair so far?” Parr questioned.

“I’m having a great time.” She looked at her with her sincere brown eyes.

“Thank you so much for this, Catherine.”

Katherine’s eyes wandered shyly. She still didn’t look completely comfortable, but that kind of thing takes time.

Catherine was happy to wait as long as the girl needed her to.

“I’m glad Anne suggested we do this today. I’m having fun spending time with you. Plus,” she paused, nodding her head in the direction that Boleyn beaded off,

“I guess having my goofball of a girlfriend around isn’t so bad either.”

Katherine giggled lightly at this comment.

“What’s so funny?”

Anne took back her seat at the end of the bleacher row, a bowl of something between her hands.

“Oh, nothing… what’ve you got there?” Cathy asked.

The woman smirked, tilting the bowl so the two other could see. Three spoons were sticking out of several colourful scoops of-

“Ice cream!”

Katherine smiles, eyeballing the pink scoop. “You remembered that this is my favourite.”

“Not like it was difficult. Anything pink is your favourite.” She pointed out, turning to address her girlfriend.

“You can try, but no one gets in between me and my ice cream.”

“I swear babe, you run on nothing but refined sugar.”

“Just the way I like it.”

She passed the ice cream over to Kat who was sitting in the middle of the three of them. They snacked as they watched an audience member vanish for inside a box. Catherine even gave in and had few bites, leaving the strawberry for the pink-haired girl.

“Hey, look who it is!”

Anne emphatically pointed to someone at the bottom of the bleachers.

Inspecting her from the back, the woman’s perfect posture and curly black locks were a dead giveaway as to who it was.

“How many Catherine’s can we have in the same area?” Cathy quipped playfully.

Anne started yelling for the woman in a shrill and singsongy voice. “CATALINA!”

She turned around to look for the source of the noise, and must’ve figured out who it was because she headed up the bleachers to where they were sitting.

“Anne Boleyn!” The curly hair woman asserted fiercely. “I thought we agreed you would never call me that in public again.”

The girl in green just shrugs. “Teasing you is too much fun for me to stop.”

Parr butted into their argument. “Hello, Catherine. Lovely to see you again.”

Catherine nodded cordially, somehow not bowing her head in the process.

“It’s nice to see you too. And who might this be?”

Before Cathy can process what is happening, Kat is curling into her side. Her eyes show the most fear Catherine had seen from anyone before.

It must’ve been an instinct, because she responded by placing a protective arm over the teen’s knees without a second thought.

“Catherine, this is my cousin, also Katherine.” Anne introduced slowly, probably sensing the shift in mood.

“Kitty, this is our friend Catherine Aragon.”

She said the friend very carefully and deliberately.

Katherine’s eyes dart to Aragon for a second, and spare managed to follow her gaze up to where she’d been zoning in on.

What seemed to bother her was Catherine’s necklace of all things.

Before that could be dwelled on too much Katherine was back to staring at her shoes without adding anything to the conversation.

“Three Catherines? Have we broken a record or something?” The standing woman sarcastically adds, but even she knows something’s off.

“I’m the special one!” Anne declares, quickly adding:

“But that’s always the case anyways. Right babe?”

Catherine looked at her girlfriend quizzically.

Um, maybe not the for one-liners?

“Yes…?” It came out more like a question, not that she didn’t think her girlfriend was the most special woman in the universe, but maybe when the teenager you’re responsible for is looking at your friend like she’s seen a ghost it isn’t the best time to point it out?

Just a thought?

Then Boleyn gave her a look, a bright-eyed slightly vulnerable look that told her everything she needed to know.

Trust me on this.

Anne grabbed both of her girlfriend’s hands, pulling her off of the bleachers. She was now standing in front of her.

Boleyn stood up, cupped Catherine’s face softly with her hands and pulled her into a kiss.

Naturally, Catherine was surprised by this but quickly relaxed into the kiss. They pulled away after a few seconds and she could practically feel the redness creeping up her face.

“I’m happy for you two, but I sincerely hope you haven't been snogging all day in front of the poor girl.”

Everyone turned to look at the mentioned teen, who looked… in complete shock.

Anne fluttered her eyelashes innocently.

“Only a little.”

“Well, this has definitely been an experience… I better head back down, I was saving spots for the pageant. Deborah says it’s a tradition… a superficial one, but is she knows someone in it then it’s good to support them.”

Aragon spoke directly to Kat. “I’m happy to have met you. Hopefully I see you around.”

As the woman walked away, Catherine got one last good look at her necklace;

It was a dainty thing, it looked like pure gold. It was a simply cross on a small chain, the charm hanging only a few inches below her neck.

“How are you doing?”

Anne put a hand on her cousin's shoulder.

Kat blinked a few times, seemingly at a loss.

She whispered something after a while of silence. It was so quiet that the writer could barely hear, but from what she was able to put together she said:

“You’re so… comfortable.”

Anne apparently had no trouble hearing the girl and answered. “It gets much easier when you know it’s safe. Sometimes, it isn’t though, and it’s okay to be cautious. Smart, even.”

Catherine still couldn’t figure out the reason that Katherine was uncomfortable, not that it mattered.

“Let’s go check out more of the fair, yeah?”

Anne grinned adventurously, extending an arm to Katherine. It took her a bit to stand up, but eventually she did and the three headed off the bleachers and away from the main stage.

They found themselves in the market section. Stands were set up in small colourful tents, selling things from candles to jewelry to very tacky bedazzled purses.

It turned into a game of finding the most ridiculous thing for the other person to wear.

Boleyn found a hideous Hawaiian shirt for Catherine to try on, but she got her back with an awful looking cowboy hat.

Anne found some strange earrings that were basically felt flowers connectected together in a foot long strand.

“This is perfect for you, Kitty!”

The pink haired girl was facing a rack of dresses, but it was as if she could see through it.

She was completely zoned out.

“Kitty?”

Snapping back to reality, Katherine almost knocked over the rack she was standing in front of. Luckily, Catherine sprang forward to keep it from tipping over.

“What’s on your mind, Kat?”

“Nothing…” She fumbled with her hands, balancing slightly on her toes.

“It’s, it’s stupid….”

“Hey. If it matters to you, then no it isn’t.”

Parr really wanted Katherine to understand, so she tried looking her in the eyes.

She averted her gaze, but spoke up.

“C-Catherine, Catherine Aragon, she - mentioned another woman. Deborah. Do you know who that is?”

Wracking her brain to think if she knew anyone with that name, Catherine came up dry. Her girlfriend shook her head as well.

“Why do you ask?”

“... No reason.”

“You’re sure there’s nothing else?” Anne tries gently.

Kat shook her head, walking out of the vendor’s tent signalling the end of the conversation. The two adults give each other a glance of let’s keep our guard up before walking out to join her.

As they continue to check out the sights of the fair, Katherine’s gaze lingers on a sparkly unicorn plush hanging from a game booth.

… Which of course, means that Anne immediately circles back around and slaps money on the counter.

“Hit me with some bean bags!”

It was a traditional knock-em-down game, with metal bottles lines up on some shelves.

Anne lobbed the first few bean bags, managing to knock out half of the bottles.

Cathy throws a few as well, getting a few good shots in. Kat insisted that her aim was abysmal and she was going to waste all of their money but after some prodding, she joined in too.

When there was only one bottle left, Kat was the only one with a bean bag left to throw.

“I don’t know if I can do this… maybe one of you should take it.”

“You’ve got this Kitty. I know you do.” Anne firmly encouraged.

“Wind up as far as you can, and throw hard.” Catherine added. “You’ve already got a feel for it, so you have it in the bag.”

Reluctantly following the writer’s instructions, the teen carefully lined up the shot.

Taking a deep breath, she gripped the object in her hand tightly.

Then she sent it hurtling forward, crashing directly into the bottle, sending it tumbling to the ground.

“Yes!”

“You did it!”

Katherine wrapped her arms around her cousin, jumping up and down excitedly.

It was impossible for Catherine not to beam at the sight.

After the rush of excitement the teen made a shy gesture towards the plush she wanted. The game attended happily got it down.

Kat squeezes it close to her. “Her name is Bling Bling Sparkle Bling Bling,” She said more self-assured then Catherine would’ve been saying that name out loud, “But we’ll call her Sparkie for short.”

“Well, I think I’ve got the perfect place for Sparkie to check out with us…”

Boleyn lead the way (again), that is, until Katherine noticed the large barn coming into view and realized where they were headed.

“Letsgoletsgoletsgo!”

She latched onto the two adults hands and pulled them forward with more force then Anne had when they were first arriving at the carnival.

The excitement was even more clear when they got into the barn.

Katherine absolutely loved animals.

She was so gentle with each one, even the pigs and birds and the one chicken that tried pecking at her finger.

Her soft approach with each one was something to witness. It was a gift.

Anne seemed to think so too. “Kitty’s going to be a veterinarian when she’s older.”

“Come on, Anne..” The mentioned girl shook her head while petting a bunny’s fluffy white fur, “I’m not smart enough for that.”

“School does not dictate how smart you are. I almost failed out of my senior year, and the only reason I didn’t is because I had Cathy to help me through. You are plenty smart and then some, Katherine Howard.”

Kat furrowed her brows in disagreement, but said nothing and continued petting the rabbit.

They continued to look around for a while. At some point, a handler for the two horses popped in to give them some food and he let Katherine feed them some grain.

He was impressed with her skills, telling her that he wished he’d of been as calm the first time he’d ever fed a horse.

Truth be told they could’ve spent the rest of the day in there, but Anne suggested they go see if the rides were lit up now that it was getting later.

Even though the sun was still out, a few of the booths and displays were lit up in neon. That, combined with the quieter atmosphere of the later time made walking through the fair and taking everything in a great time all on its own.

Of course, the company helped.

Her girlfriend was by her side, as was a pink-haired girl who she loved to see happy more than anything.

Katherine was a lot calmer than earlier, her worries no longer apparent. Maybe it was the animals, maybe it was something else…

But she had her arm linked with her cousin and a big contagious smile on her face.

The mask was gone.

Maybe that wasn’t such a good thing.

Because as they passed by the food vendors, a certain Spanish woman noticed them passing by.

She pointed the group out to a woman standing next to her and the two stepped out of line to meet up with them.

Katherine stopped dead in her tracks. Unlinking arms with Anne, she planted her feet firmly on the ground.

“Katherine?” Parr called to the girl, concerned.

Sadly, Anne had stepped in front to greet Catherine and the stranger so was unaware of the scene happening behind her.

“Catalina! I’m surprised to see you haven’t run off in the opposite direction when you saw us coming up.”

“I’m surprised that they’ve been able to put up with you for this long.” Catherine shot back.

“Deborah, this is Anne Boleyn. I’m sure you may have to impression that we’re very civil from that exchange, but that’s really just how our friendship is.”

“Catalina absolutely adores me.” Anne drawled, then turned to the other woman. “Nice to meet you, Deborah.”

She nodded stiffly in reply. The woman had a similar posture to Aragon in that she held her head high, but unlike Aragon it was as if she was looking down on everyone else.

Her eyes darted away from Anne and to the pair in front of her.

“Katherine!?”

The teen inched closer to Cathy. Her bottom lip was quivering, and she looked absolutely terrified.

This was something much more than just the nerves she had when being introduced to Aragon earlier.

Something’s wrong here.

Anne glanced back at the woman’s words, finally aware of her little cousin’s state.

“Is.. is something the matter?” Anne was completely lost, as was Aragon.

“I would hope not.” Deborah insisted.

She took a few steps closer to Katherine, who yelped and latched onto Parr’s arm as if her life depended on it. Curling in on the older woman, she was shaking slightly.

“It’s been ages, Katherine. I see you’ve ruined your hair while you’ve been away.”

Kat’s hold only tightened around Parr, whimpers falling from her lips.

“Deborah!” Aragon was clearly disturbed by her friend’s sudden behaviour.

“You can call me out of line all you want, but I’ve tried my best to save Katherine from the depths of hell.”

Deborah took another step closer. This time, Catherine stepped protectively in front of the teen.

“All your parents did was try and save you! And you repay them with prison time? You’re a devil child, Katherine Howard. You’re beyond rescue. The lord stands with me on this.”

Anne wasn’t dealing with any of this. “You better stop spouting your lies and leave and leave right now before I report you-”

The pressure on Cathy’s arm lifted suddenly.

Tears falling down her cheeks, Katherine bolted away without looking back.

“Katherine!”

Three voices called after her.

But it was no use.

The Spanish woman was fuming.

“I can’t believe you! How dare you speak to anyone that way, let alone a sixteen year old! Have you no decency? And you bring the Lord’s name to your awful behaviour!”

Even Deborah cowered under Catherine’s angry gaze. She could be very threatening when she wanted to be, which served her well in a time like this.

“Catherine, I thought surely you of all people would understand where I’m coming from.”

“There’s no one who could possibly understand where you’re coming from, me least of all!”

Deborah wasn’t backing down. “She’s a deviant, Catherine! An abomination!”

“Leave. NOW.”

Catherine’s voice was scarily unmoving and calm.

Deborah couldn’t help but shoot one last look of disapproval at Anne and Cathy before stalking off.

As soon as the woman was gone, Aragon’s narrowed eyes and clenched jaw soften into a look of desperate remorse.

“I can’t believe she… I had no idea… I’m so sorry, you two.”

“It wasn’t you, Catherine. We know your true views and know that you would never associate yourself with anyone who thinks that way.”

The Spanish woman nodded the information away as Anne spoke up.

“We need to find Kat.”

They decided splitting up would be the best plan of attack. Catherine went off to the left where the stage was, Anne headed back towards the ride which meant Cathy was in charge of searching the south part of the fair.

Scanning everywhere she passed for the girl, her search came up dry.

Until a red barn came back into view and she knew exactly where she was headed.

“Katherine?”

Continuing to call her name, she passed through the barn before circulating the outside.

After rounding the corner of the barn she saw a familiar pink-haired teen crumpled into a ball on the ground clutching a violet plush to her chest.

“Katherine…”

Startled brown eyes peeked up for a second.

Catherine could feel her heart ripping apart at the sadness that they held.

Kat burrowed them back into her stuffed animal, continuing to cry her eyes out.

“Hey..”

The writer took a seat next to the girl, placing a stable hand on her shoulder.

“It’s going to be alright. The woman is gone, and she won’t be coming anywhere near you. I won’t let that happen.”

Katherine slowly lifted lifted her head to look at Parr.

Her face was red and wet, but underneath it all, it was impossible to miss how vulnerable she was.

“I hope you know that none of what she said was true. You, Katherine Howard, are an amazing kid who deserves so much more than what she got. And you’ve got stellar hair.”

Kat let out a small huff which Catherine hoped was her trying to laugh. She played with the tips of her hair between her fingers.

The writer pulled the sleeve of her cardigan over her hand and wiped away some of the tears trailing down her face.

“I’m sorry… I was so scared… I had to get out of there…”

“Don’t ever apologize for being scared. It’s not something to be sorry for.”

Catherine gave a comforting smile.

“And I want you to know that you aren’t wrong for changing your look. Dye your hair pink, get a nose ring, heck you could even shave your eyebrows off, and you’re not wrong for doing it. Nobody should tell you how to express yourself.”

Katherine slowly leaned closer to Parr, resting her head on her shoulder. Giving her affection that she previously had only wanted from Anne.

Parr’s heart soared as they stayed like this for a while. She was happy to be a source of comfort.

“.... A lot of bad people, they wanted to make me feel bad about who I am.”

Catherine nodded her head to show the girl she was giving her her full attention. Kat fumbled with her left sleeve as she spoke.

“Some of them were doing it out of love. Out of wanting my soul to be saved. But that doesn’t excuse what they did to hurt me.”

Katherine tentatively pushed up her sweater sleeve and and flipped her arm over.

Right below her wrist, there was a medium sized tattoo of a pink, white, and red heart.

“Anna did this for me. After everything I’ve been through, it felt right. Even if I’m not ready to show it to everyone yet. I know it’s there. And now, you do too.”

Catherine took the younger girl’s hands in hers. “It makes me happy you shared this with me. Thank you for trusting me. The tattoo is beautiful.”

“I do trust you. Maybe it was silly of me to keep it this long because I know you and Anne are together-“

“It’s not silly at all. We all get ready in our own time. Can I tell you more of the story about how I got to know your cousin?”

Katherine nodded eagerly.

“Well, it was in Year 12 like Anne said. It was the first year we had classes together. I remember in History she sat diagonally from me, and I wouldn’t be able to focus because I was staring at her.”

Catherine quickly added, “Don’t tell her I said that. It will inflate her ego even more.”

The teen giggled lightheartedly.

“Eventually, our History teacher paired us together on a research paper and we got to talking. We started to get to know each other. I remember not being able to understand why she’d want to talk to me of all people…”

“Sometimes people would mutter hateful things under their breaths at us. But one day, it came to a head when an older guy came up while I was talking to Anne and pushed me to the ground. He was shouting derogatory words and spit in my face.”

“After that happened, I was terrified. I isolated myself from Anne, thought it would be better if I stopped these feelings from happening. But it wasn’t. I was sad, and confused, and all I wanted to do was get rid of who I really was…”

Katherine cut in. “I understand that. That’s how I felt, too.”

“Anne was so patient. We spent time hanging out outside of school, and little by little I got comfortable with being together in front of others. Holding hands in front of others. Anne mattered so much more than anyone else’s opinion did.”

Her mind wandered back to their first kiss.

Anne asked her to be her date to the end of school dance, and of course she said yes.

They had the best night ever, and during a slow dance Catherine knew in that moment she was ready.

She leaned in, softly kissing her girlfriend on the lips.

It was in front of the whole school, but Catherine didn’t even register that anyone else was there.

It was just her and Anne.

No one else mattered.

“I don’t know how they mistreated you, Katherine. You don’t ever have to tell me if you don’t want to. But you didn’t deserve any of it. Just know that it will get better. No matter how long it takes or how hard it is, you’re a fighter. And we’ll be by your side every step of the way.”

Kat pulled the woman next to her into a hug. This one wasn’t desperate or pleading or fearful: it was gentle and caring.

Her mask was gone.

It was really her.

Catherine cherished the hug for every moment it lasted, making sure she wasn’t the first to let go.

The teen pulled away, glancing down at the drawing on her arm again.

“Someday, I’ll be able to wear short sleeves and let everyone see this. But for now, I’m happy with you, Anna, and Anne knowing. I mean, Anne doesn’t know about the tattoo but I think you understand.”

“I hope you know the minute you show Anne this tattoo she’s gonna be jealous and want one too.”

Katherine laughed again. “You guys could get matching couples tattoos! That’d be really cool.”

Catherine ruffled the younger girl’s hair affectionately.

“Maybe someday, kid.”

She stood up, extending an arm to Kat.

“Let’s go find your cousin, how about that?”

Kat accepted and let Cathy help her off the ground. They walked through the rides section of the park, the lights now all activated and casting pretty purples and blues around the whole fair.

Katherine was right at her side, their arms brushing gently due to their close proximity.

It felt right.

“Kitty!”

A relieved Anne Boleyn ran up and scooped her little cousin into a hug. “Are you alright?”

Kat’s brown eyes met Cathy’s as she responded. “Yes, I am.”

Anne semi-pulled out of the hug, but only to pull her girlfriend in closer.

“I’ve got you two. And I’m never letting go.”

The embrace lasted for a while. Anne was holding on the tightest, which was much different than what usually happened when she gave out hugs.

“Kitty… how did you know that woman?” Her tone was serious and strained.

“I don’t know her very well,” Katherine said quickly, almost like she was trying to reassure her cousin. “She started coming to our church when I started secondary school.”

Her voice started to hitch.

“She’s seen a few things happen… she supported what they were doing.”

That only made Anne let out a shaky breath and pull them both tighter.

Catherine didn’t know anything about what happened to Kat. She didn’t expect to be told, she didn’t feel she deserved to know in the slightest; it was Katherine’s story to tell, after all.

But with the flinching while watching her and Anne kiss, with the references Katherine made to being hurt for expressing herself, the way every move she was almost too perfect as if to try and please someone else and the religious overtones to it all…

Not to mention her parents were in jail.

It was hard to wrap her head around.

Katherine deserves the world.

They stayed clumped together in that huddle group as they shuffled towards the exit of the carnival. After the tiring events of the day, the three of them were ready to cozy up at home.

Anne sent a text to Aragon before starting the car. Buckling herself in, Katherine asked, “Do you guys think we could do movie night at your place? I mean, if you have the time-”

“That’s a great idea Kat. Thank you for suggesting it.”

The ride went by much faster the way back then it did the way there. Once they arrived at home, Catherine and Kat got to work pulling all of the pillows and warm blankets they could find from all of the rooms in the house.

Katherine bundled herself up in a fluffy white blanket. Parr sat cross-legged on the couch next to her as they scrolled through movie options on Netflix. The second Matilda popped up in their suggestions, Kat perked up and requested it. Catherine had never seen it before but was excited to watch it.

Anne had gone to the other room to make a phone call and explained in hushed whispers the events that transpired earlier. She joined the two others after hanging up.

“Jane’s on her way over. I thought it would be nice if she joined us for the movie.” Katherine nodded and smiled at her cousin’s explanation.

“I wonder if Jane has seen Matilda. It’s Catherine’s first time, too.”

“You’ve never seen Matilda?!? How have we gone our whole relationship without watching it? This is a crime.”

Anne plopped down at her own spot on the couch. “Remember when we used to watch this, Kitty? We used to pretend we had telekinesis all of the time. This must’ve been our favourite thing to watch together.”

“I do.” Katherine recalled fondly. “And it still is. My favourite movie, I mean.”

Stealing a shy glance at her cousin, she added; “I don’t think that’s going to change.”

The three settled in as the movie began to play. Not even five minutes in, there was a knock at the door.

Anne got up to answer it, and returned with a slightly disheveled yet still kindly blonde.

“Kat!”

Katherine kicked the blanket off of herself and got up to initiate a hug with Jane. When they first walked in together at the beginning of the day Catherine hadn’t pegged them as being very close, but this hug changed her perception quite a bit.

“I’m so happy you’re okay, love.”

“I had people there to help me. Besides, I won’t let that woman ruin what was a really amazing day otherwise.”

“I’m so proud of you. You’re a strong one, Katherine Howard.”

Katherine guided her foster mom over to the couch. Jane admitted to never seeing Matilda either, which earned her a very over-dramatic reaction from Anne.

“Did either of you have childhoods? I’m appalled.”

They continued to watch. Catherine had to admit it was the perfect way to cap off their day, Kat was right on with her suggestion. It was nice to be warm and cozy and together.

A half an hour in, there was a second knock at the door.

This time, the writer got up to answer it albeit albeit confused since they weren’t expecting anyone else. Kat insisted on pausing the movie so that she could “get the full experience”.

Pulling the door open, behind it was none other than Aragon.

The curly hair woman stood stiffly, an apologetic look in her eyes. A pristine white envelope was clutched tightly in her hands.

“-Catherine.”

The mentioned Catherine put a hand on the older woman’s shoulder, trying to calm her down.

“Hey. We found Kat, she’s doing great and wanted to have a movie night. Is everything alright?”

Aragon shook her head.

“No, it’s not alright. I let myself associate with someone with those kinds of views, someone who is against everything that I stand for. I’m not sure what her history is with Katherine, but either way I noticed how uncomfortable she was around me and should’ve been more careful introducing her to others.”

She extended the letter towards Cathy. “I’m not sure she would be comfortable with seeing me face to face, so I wrote out an apology for her. I just want her to know that I’m sorry-”

“How about we let Katherine decide?”

Cathy went back in the house, and after a brief discussion the pink haired girl followed her back to where Aragon was standing.

“Hi.”

Kat waved shyly.

“Katherine… I wanted to apologize for what happened earlier.”

The teen’s eyebrows raised. “Why? You haven’t done anything wrong.”

“Not directly, but I could’ve done more to prevent that confrontation. When we first met you were uneasy, I should’ve taken that as cue to keep my distance… but instead, I put you in that situation. I’m so, so sorry Katherine. I would like you to know that I don’t share the same views as that woman at all, I don’t even know her very well…”

Catherine passed her letter the younger girl.

“I wrote you this.”

Katherine stepped forward and took the envelope. Tearing it open, her eyes scanned the paper inside.

As she continued reading, tears pricked her eyes and her breathing got heavier until she was weeping.

Aragon was horrified.

“I didn’t mean to make you cry-”

“No - no,” Katherine gave a watery smile, “It’s not like that.”

Pulling the letter close to her chest, she began to explain.

“Most adults don’t apologize… they think it’s beneath them to do that, especially if it’s to a kid. Even though you don’t have anything to be sorry about, it means a lot that you did this.”

The older woman shook her head, beginning to get teary herself.

“Of course, Katherine. I truly am sorry.”

She swatted at her tears with her palms and took a deep breath.

“I should be heading out so you can get back to your movie. Have a good night-”

“Catherine, wait.”

Kat shuffled forwards again, intertwining her hand with Aragon.

“Please stay. I want you here.”

She tilted her head towards Cathy. “If that’s alright with you two.”

The writer quickly nodded. “Catherine’s always welcome here. Maybe it’ll be her first time watching Matilda as well.”

“If you’re sure you want me to stay then… I’m happy to, Katherine. What did you say we were watching? Matilda?”

Katherine all but dragged her inside. “You’re going to love it!”

Catherine exchanges pleasantries with the rest of the woman inside. Jane introduces herself warmly as the movie continues to play.

The woman took a seat on a chair next to the sofa. Seeing as there wouldn’t be enough room for the four of them to sit on the couch, Parr happily sat down on the floor.

To her surprise, Katherine did the same. She took back her blanket and wrapped it around them both.

The movie continued for a while. Anne and Katherine would sometimes interject to tell a story relating a scene to their childhood. Soon, Anne had slid off of the couch entirely and slung her arm around her cousin and her girlfriend.

Sat there, surrounded by her friends, sitting next to Anne and Katherine who were both grinning from ear to ear….

It was the perfect moment.

She was so thankful for that moment.

She was so thankful that Katherine was now in her life.

#six the musical #six #six the musical fanfiction #six the musical fanfic #katherine howard #anne boleyn #catherine of aragon #catherine parr #jane seymour #parrlyn

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alias-b · 5 years ago

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honey, i’m home (hold for laughs)

A/N: So, I’m taking a break from my long fics. Just to gather myself again. I’m having sort of a bad day and idk I wrote this to deal with some stuff. Just something rough I punched out quickly. A somber blurb character study for Martin Brenner and Lucy Garland from my Hopper/OC fic, LFTM. Brenner dreams that things could be different if he weren’t such a monster.

It was the same dream. Night after night. Waking in a cold sweat. Rinse. Repeat.

Sheets that still smelled of her perfume. Lucy had never stayed over. In this house that was too big. In this bed that was always chilled. But, she was in everything he saw.

Martin Brenner dreamed so deep, he woke in a pit every morning. Fingers shifting to feel for one caress of that supple skin. Tread into black locks. He wished sometimes that they never chopped it off.

She truly looked like a siren with black silk spilling over her warm bronzed shoulders. Eyes glowing even in the dark. A rich brown. Almost honeyed like amber. Lucy was warmth and she was fire and he longed to hold it within his palms. Watch it spill and burn this entire town down.

That would have been breathtaking.

But, Brenner couldn’t have that. So, he smothered her. Pressed her like coal until she was a sparkling diamond instead. It was for the best.

So, he dreamed and tumbled. Woke before a smaller house, but it looked loved. Something out of a fairy tale in black and white. Surrounded by a lush garden of marigolds. Beautiful even if they’re all grey.

A place where the sun was always high framed with a white picket fence. Neighbors who smiled so wide they might crack. Waving in sync. Robotic in how they navigate.

Martin always carried a coat and briefcase. Dons his expensive Italian suits. Taking in this perfect world of black and white. Same at the funny sitcoms he secretly enjoyed. Wondering if Lucy likes them too. If she’d curl up with him and watch.

Steps took him up toward the door. Always unlocked.

“Honey,” Martin offered to the air, “I’m home.”

Hold for laughs.

And there she was. Materializing out of the kitchen with a wide painted smile. A little cinched polka dotted dress. Even a frilly apron. So pristine and untouched by this world. Martin figured the dress was a forest green only because he knew it was Lucy’s favorite color.

“How was work, dear?” Lucy never stopped smiling at him. That much was always static. Hands reached for his coat to hang it up. She didn’t wait for an answer and slipped into his arms. Kissed him on the lips like she’d been waiting for his return all day. And she had.

“Just fine.” Martin grasped her hips. Kept her pressed there flush.

“My husband. Fighting all the bad guys.” She cooed. Another peck. “Dinner’s almost ready. I made your favorite. And I didn’t burn it this time.”

Hold for more laughs.

Lucy always made his favorite.

She went to the doorway, posed a little like a mannequin.

“Kids! Your father’s home!”

Steps rumbled down the stairs. Two children lined up in front of Lucy. Matching mechanical grins on their doll faces.

Martin recalled their names.

The girl. Amanda. Dark brown hair and blue eyes. She must be about eight. Little spitfire. And her younger brother. Five years old. Martin. They called him Marty for short. Brown hair and eyes. Shy.

“Daddy!” The children jumped at him. Holding so tight like they might fade at any second. And they would. Lucy was all smiles at the sight. Protected by these four walls. They were safe here.

“Go wash up for dinner now.” She ushered them off, taking Brenner by the hand. A wedding ring sparkled same as the pretty pearls round her neck. “I made a surprise for dessert. Can you smell it?”

“Is that cherry?”

Lucy giggled.

“Isn’t it divine?” She shrugged and pulled out a pan. Some chicken and dumpling recipe his mother used to make. The pie came next. Piping hot in the window to cool. Glistening and lush. “That’s what fear smells like.”

“What?” Brenner had started to roll his sleeves up. Eyes snapping. Lucy clasped her hands. Her face must have hurt with that grin plastered.

“I just said it smells so good, I could ruin my appetite right now. Couldn’t you, honey?” She gushed.

Hold for laughs.

They gathered as a family. Looking around at these gifts. Happy. Sharing a perfect meal in a perfect little dollhouse. The child playing with them loved them too much.

“If you don’t eat your carrots,” Martin had to point at his son, “you won’t get dessert.” He smiled too like it was half a joke. Marty stuffed himself full and pie was served. “Don’t forget to thank your beautiful mother.”

“Oh, stop.” Lucy playfully smacked the hand from her hip. “I’m just happy to have a beautiful family.”

Martin could swear he tasted this rich meal. Succulent cherries hot on his tongue.

The rest of the night was clockwork. Get the children ready for bed. Storytime with daddy. Plenty of soft kisses goodnight. Lights out.

Lucy lotioning herself at the mirror in a little pink nightie. Martin’s mouth on her shoulder. Kissing her dizzy until she was up and in bed. Mounting him in nothing but those pearls. Them trying to stay as quiet as they could because the children were sleeping. Her tuckered body falling in next to him, spent. Blissful.

“We could have another baby.” Martin suggested. “Another little girl.”

“I always liked the name Jane.” Lucy mused. Haunted, he peered at her there against the pillows. Naked skin dewy and soft. “You look like you've seen a ghost, darling.”

“You know what’s going on, don’t you?” His head lifted to see her clearly in the dim lamplight. “You know this isn’t real.”

“Of course, it’s real, baby.” Her hand touched his cheek. “I’m real. Feel that?”

“You can’t love me.” The stinging thought welled his eyes.

“But, I do. I always will.” Lucy kissed him all better. “Do you feel it? Do you love me too?”

“Yes.” Brenner pulled her impossibly close. Lips trailed over her neck. “I love you more than anything.”

“To the moon and back?” Lucy melted into his frame. Sighed.

“Yes.” Martin had gasped it because he wanted it all so bad. This dream. This love. Felt Lucy in his bone marrow. That fire. A crack.

Lucy’s skin broke like glass. A mirror fracturing out. Martin felt her sag back into the bed.

“Honey, I don’t feel well.” A little porcelain doll breaking to perfect pieces. Ashes seeping out instead of blood. “Can you hear that? It’s a symphony playing just for us.”

“No, Lucy, you stay right here. With me.” Brenner brought her into his arms. Felt her quiver and shake. The horrid sound like nails on a chalkboard when her skin broke apart.

Lucy’s never able to stay.

Hold for laughs.

It broke his heart every single time. Seeing her shatter.

And he knew it was all on him. Everything. He did this. He broke her. Lucy trembling to ashes. Sinking between his fingers.

Hold for laughs.

The children are always shattered in their beds too. Safe and sound from him and this world of rot.

Brenner felt his chest filling with cries. With screams and bellows to stop the torment. It all became ashes and he mourned it. Even the marigolds.

It shouldn’t ache this profoundly. Martin Brenner with his pressed suits and pristine hair. The world to save upon his shoulders. Floating through science and logic. He could have let Lucy Garland go that day in his office. Could have let her blossom.

He doesn’t regret it. The greater good demanded all the sacrifice. He told himself that like a mantra. Lucy had to burn and become something greater.

But, when she looked into his eyes and lied so politely…

Nothing in his life hurt like her sweet deception.

He cannot love in full and she will never be his. Even if she sinks into his arms willingly. It’s all painted like those damn sitcoms.

Hold for laughs. Scream instead.

The dream’s ending was the same too. Lucy weeping softly. In the garden burying a pie dish with a bloody beating heart inside.

Martin never has the chance to figure who the heart belongs to. But it’s the only splash of color in this muted, artificial world. Lucy cried over it and brought the ruby red into his dreams.

Waking, Brenner gave a start. Breathed deep to capture life again.

Felt around.

Lucy would not be here.

Sometimes he dreamed of her naked and holding that knife above him.

It felt better than nothing. Maybe he had that coming for carving her out of marble against her will.

Brenner turned in darkness and smelt the perfume even still. The torment he brought this world turned back at him the day Lucy Garland walked into his office with those starry eyes.

He didn’t blame her, he deserved to die. Martin always knew that deep down. He owed Lucy a life debt and she would collect one day down the line.

Martin Brenner only hoped she’d hold him as the end came. Saving the world was a thankless job.

Liked to think maybe he earned that much. One pair of warm arms and a heart beating in his ear. Dreamed that something in Lucy could love him back just for a second. One perfect second where there were no ashes between either of them. Maybe she could forgive something and sleep better after too.

There was true hope in his soul that she could. This love. It would grow. Rot. Spread. Kill.

He dreamed something prettier for both of them.

It was only fair. When he laid his head down, the dream would come again like a silent monster. Make a fool of him because he still believed in it every single night.

And the only courtesy he could do was hold for the damn laughs and let Lucy Garland slip through his fingers. Smell her perfume and cherry pie again because she was a craving he’d never lose.

Not until she killed him.

Sometimes when Brenner walked the path in that perfect black and white world and looked at those swaying marigolds, he knew she already had. Martin would remember to thank her for it one day soon.

Hold for laughs.

#Martin Brenner #Lucy garland #idk why i wrote this I just wanted to #mine #writing #LFTM #Brenner x lucy

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justjessame · 5 years ago

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A Little Ass and A Lotta Sass Chapter One: Unimpressed Doesn’t Begin to Cover It

"Little pig, little pig-let me in," I heard a gruff voice call from the gates with an accompanying metallic clang and rattle, as I was taking my little sister Judith out for a walk. Rolling my eyes, I let out a huff of breath and started back to our house.

I passed Dad as he was rushing to the gates, he paused long enough to kiss my forehead and hers. I smiled at him in encouragement and continued toward the house. Negan. The murderous psycho that killed two of ours wasn't supposed to come by for another couple of days. I wasn't surprised. Clearly he was an asshole.

I hadn't been with the others during the mission to flatten the Saviors. Dad had decided that I was more helpful to them if I stayed in Alexandria and kept morale up, while also taking care of Judith. That was fine with me. Not that I was afraid of standing up for our people, but honestly, usually my mouth tended to get ALL of us in more trouble then we started with. My only excuse, and one I was careful not to use too often, was that I'd been an only child for my first six years of life. Dad and Mom had spoiled me rotten, and by the time Carl came along, well it was way too late to reign me in. My mouth at least. Mom had called me "Sassy Pants".

Bouncing Judith in my arms, kissing her silky blonde curls, I considered whether I should rush inside and stay far away from Negan and his minions, or settle on the porch in one of the white rocking chairs and watch. Dad would probably want me to hide, with Judith, inside. Unfortunately, I rarely considered what Dad would want. I mean, I kind of wanted to see how horrific this dickhead was for myself. But I didn't want him or his people to see Judith. I rushed into the house, carrying her upstairs, and was happy to see that she was clearly ready for a nap. I grabbed one of the baby monitor's receivers and pushed it into the pocket of my skinny jeans. I had it turned loud enough to feel the vibrations, just in case she woke up in the middle of the unannounced visit.

Rushing back downstairs, I opened the front door and sat down on the top step. This would give me more options to run, if I chose the chair, jumping over the banister might break my damn leg. As I sat, I considered what Carl had told me about the night Abe and Glenn had died. The night Negan stole Daryl away. The night he nearly forced Dad to cut my baby brother's arm off. I'd felt so much rage and pain since that night. Losing so much, especially when I saw how fucking broken he'd made Dad. Nothing had hurt him so much that he lost sight of what was important, but now? Now he was almost a husk.

Things had been tense, not just in the community, but in our house. Michonne and Dad seemed almost on pins and needles around one another. Carl looked like he'd rather do nothing other than storm the gates and take Negan's head himself. And little Judith was picking up on the entire mess and making her sleep less restful. Me? I felt like I had when we first learned that the dead walked. Like nothing could get fucking worse, but then God laughed and considered that thought a fucking challenge.

I heard that same gruff voice give an order that made little sense, until I caught a glimpse of Dad walking beside a tall man in a leather jacket, barbed wire baseball bat on his shoulder. Negan, I thought, and then my eyes caught the reason for the order. "You don't look at him, you don't talk to him, and I don't make you chop anything off of him." Daryl was creeping alongside one of the minions. He was dressed in the dingiest sweats I'd ever seen, looking far worse than I'd ever seen him look before. Saviors? I snorted to myself. Sure.

I watched, trying to decide if Negan looked as scary as everyone felt he was. He came closer and more in focus, and I tilted my head. Dark hair, slicked back like an old fashioned greaser, a little gray brushing here and there. His face was far more salt than pepper, but his scruff looked too perfect, deliberately careless. The leather jacket was more fitted than I'd imagined. The bat was less intimidating, but then again, he wasn't playing a disturbing game of "Eeny, Meeny, Miny, Moe" with me. The rest of him looked like most of the men in my life, just far cleaner than I thought he'd be.

"And what do we have here?" He whistled and I saw my dad flinch. Shit, guess I'd been too far inside my own head to realize they'd grown closer and now the asshole had his attention focused on me. "Shit, Rick, who the fuck is this little beauty?"

I rolled my eyes and stood, crossing my arms across my semi loose wine colored v-neck t-shirt. I really hoped he didn't think I was going to fucking kneel like he'd made my family before he killed two of them, because that shit was NOT going to happen. He'd asked Dad to tell him who I was, so I didn't feel the need to answer. Dad was looking at me like he'd wished I'd gone all the way inside, but I could also tell he was happy that Judith wasn't with me.

"My daughter," I wanted to scream at the quiet defeat I heard in Dad's voice. "This is my daughter, Callie."

"Fuck, Rick, if you'd brought her along to negotiate, you'd made it out far fucking better than you did." Negan hadn't taken his eyes off of me, rather off of my body, since he'd caught sight of me. "Your wife must have been fucking gorgeous." He walked closer to me and I stood my ground. "And shit, she's lookin' at me like she doesn't fuckin' care who I am." His dimples grew deeper as he shot me a smile that might have been charming if it wasn't attached to a fucking psychopath. "Damn, darlin', you gonna say 'hello' to your new leader?"

I raised an eyebrow and smiled just as deeply. "Sure," I looked at my dad and said, "hello, Dad!" And gave him a little wave.

Negan gave a bark of laughter and stared up at me from his position on the bottom step. It wasn't a far tilt of his head since I'm so goddamn short. "Fuck, you've got a fucking sassy ass attitude don't ya." I stared at him full on, refusing to be charmed or intimidated. "Shit, I swear to fuck your fucking mouth is making my dick hard." I rolled my eyes, breaking contact first, but honestly what the hell?

"That sounds like a very personal problem." I answered, and squinted at him. "Since, I'm guessing that bat on your shoulder is your compensation for the inadequate one in your pants, I don't think you'll have a problem working through it."

Another loud laugh and I could fucking swear his eyes were twinkling at me. Shit, was this fucking foreplay for him? "Hot damn, you got a firecracker here, Rick the Dick!" He winked at me and turned back to Dad. As they walked away, I moved into the house thinking that I could last a fucking lifetime before I had to deal with that dickhead again.

The visit was terrible for so many reasons. They took our weapons. They took comforts, like mattresses and furniture. They took so much, and for what? For power? Because they could? When Carl tried to fight back, I was upstairs holding Judith. She could sense the tension in the air, I swear, and she'd become fussy. When I heard the shots, I clutched at her tighter, wondering if today would be the day that everyone died.

It wasn't, but we weren't safe. Luckily they'd left the food. Apparently Negan wasn't as complementary to the other women, at least not poor Olivia. It was more than certainly better that I'd stayed inside. If I'd heard him make the obscene comments about her weight, I wouldn't have been able to hold my tongue. Or my knife, to be fair. I hated when anyone shamed someone else for a perceived shortcoming. Fat shaming, slut shaming, any type of shaming was fucking wrong.

I heard Dad and Michonne discussing retaliation. Numbers, Dad says, are the issue. Savior numbers are far more vast than they had planned for, and he completely shoots down her idea of utilizing Hilltop. He urges her, and all of us to just learn to live the way we have to now. It's our new reality.

A FEW DAYS LATER

I look all over for Carl, wondering where the hell the kid got to. Dad and Aaron are off trying to find supplies to satisfy their new overlord, and for once I cannot fucking believe that I've become Mom and lost Carl. Shit. Carrying Judith with me, I look from street to street, going all the way to the front gate and seeing nothing. I swear to fucking God, I think I am going to ring my brother's fucking neck.

Hours pass, with Olivia visiting me and helping me keep Judith occupied. We talk about the things we miss from before, something I try really hard not to do when the rest of my family are around. It's too painful, and it almost seems ungrateful seeing as we have all this.

"My cell phone," I nearly moaned. "I swear, I used to threaten to throw the fucking thing in a ditch, but I'd kill to have it back, along with the people I used to text and call." I sober at the thought.

She smiles at me. "Starbucks," her eyes closed thinking of her daily dose of overpriced caffeine clearly. "All the complicated orders and my name misspelled on the cup." We giggle, Judith starting to yawn.

"I'll be right back," I say, picking up the toddler and jogging upstairs to her room. I put her carefully in her crib and smooth her curls. "Sleep tight, baby Jude." I whisper, kissing her forehead as she closes her eyes and drifts off.

I'm coming down the stairs when I heard voices. Thinking it's only Carl, I call out, "I swear to fucking God, I'm going to strangle you." As I clear the bottom step, I'm confronted with a leatherclad chest, and fuck, fuck, fuck more laughter.

"Strangle me?" Negan places his leather gloved hand over his chest as though I'd wounded him. "Fuck, I never thought I'd find a threat so fucking sexy." His voice was low and I rolled my eyes again.

"Not you," I growled, seeing my brother standing by Olivia, "him." Carl didn't have his bandage on and I returned my attention to the asshole blocking my path. "What the fuck did you do to him?"

Negan stepped back slightly, frowning at my tone. "Me? I didn't do shit to him. He came at me, shot more of my men. Fuck, your people, your fucking brother can't seem to get this shit through your fucking heads." He was leaning forward now, regaining the intimidating image that may make someone else cower, but he clearly didn't fucking know me.

I brushed past the overbearing asshole and pulled Carl to me. "Are you alright?" I asked, cupping his face in my hands, even if he was taller than me. "Where's your bandage?"

"Why does he need it?" Negan's voice demanded behind me. "He looks more badass now than he did with the fucking gun he tried to shoot me with." I rolled my eyes and then focused on the terror in Olivia's face. Oh for fuck's sake.

"And her?" I asked, releasing Carl from my grasp and turning to face Negan with my hands on my hips. "What did Olivia do to make you upset her?"

He grinned, dimples trying to distract me by coming into play. "I may have teased her a little. I apologized and even offered to fuck her after she slapped me."

I had to fight against rolling my eyes again. More time spent around him and I'd know what my own fucking brain looked like, enough to detail all the fucking wrinkles. "Do you think that's charming- or?" I squinted up at him and watched him process what I was insinuating about his desirability.

"I'm Prince Motherfucking Charming, darlin'." He winked at me and leaned closer. "For you? For you I'll be anything you want."

I lost the fight against rolling my eyes. "I suppose I should thank you for bringing my brother home. Dad isn't here, he's on a run to get you and your savages more supplies." I make it sound cheery, waiting to see if he noticed that I should thank him, but I didn't.

"Yeah, uh," he looked toward Olivia and I could see he was confused about her name. "She told me about Rick. I think I'll wait for him."

I glared up at him. "Fine. There's a porch right outside, make yourself at home there." Southern hospitality it wasn't, but I was trying to keep him far away from Judith.

He shook his head and started to wander through our house. I shot a look at Carl, televising that I was going to totally fucking ream him over coals for this. He had common sense to look a little bit ashamed.

"Olivia," I said, looking at the woman that Negan had been so rude to. "Why don't you head back?" I walked her to the door, once out of his earshot, I grinned at her. "You really fucking slapped him?" She nodded, a smile forming on her own face. "Way to fucking go, girl!" I hugged her goodbye and walked back into the living room.

Negan was taking in what was left of our luxuries. "Making yourself at home?" I asked, crossing my arms over my chest. "Don't get too comfortable, I'm sure your minions will be around to collect you, after all you have complete power over everything. They probably can't go potty without your approval."

He turned to me, dimples in full bloom. "Darlin', what the fuck did I do to you to get your panties in such a fuckin' twist?" I noticed he'd placed the bat down, near enough for him to reach it, but down as thought he really was at home. "Your dad did all this, sweetheart, not me. Why don't you be a lamb and make a little lemonade?"

"What?" I asked, looking at him like he'd lost his fucking mind. "Before the world went to shit, did someone give you a proper diagnosis? I mean, you're fucking insane, right? Like hard to pronounce, long latin worded, diagnostic insanity." He was still grinning. "Does being insulted and smacked turn you on?" For fuck's sake, what the fuck was wrong with him?

"No." He answered, sitting on the couch and putting his feet up on the coffee table. Boots still on his fucking feet. "I'm not certifiable." He turned his head to stare up at me. "And as for turning me on? Oh, sweetheart, that's gonna be a LONG conversation for you and me real fuckin' soon." His dimples mocked me and I glared at him. "Now about that lemonade-"

"Get your fucking boots off the furniture," I demanded, glare still firmly in place. "As for the lemonade? We'll see." I pointed at his feet.

He was there for HOURS. He did take his fucking boots off, then he moaned at the feel of the carpet on his bare feet. Moaned indecently, by the way, as though he thought that would somehow make me swoon. I made his fucking lemonade, only because we had the supplies for it readily available. Not because he requested it. He wasn't my God for fuck's sake.

Carl had disappeared upstairs, I hoped he was keeping Judith company because I didn't want the idiot to see her. But of course, he wanted a fucking tour. And he found her nursery. He'd picked her up with more tenderness than I expected him to be capable of, glancing at me as he kissed her head and talked quietly to her.

"What?" I asked, as he alternated looks between the two of us. "Seriously, what are you doing?" I was about to reach for her and take her away from his grubby paws, but he just held her gently and actually fucking rocked her in his arms.

Another kiss on her head and he smiled at me. "You two look nothin' alike." I sighed, I was NOT going to explain Judith's parentage to this idiot, no more ammo for him against my dad. "Course, you don't look like your little brother either."

I smirked, no I didn't. I looked like my paternal grandmother. The auburn hair, the green eyes, my tiny stature, and from what Dad told me, my sass had come directly from her. "So?"

He shrugged and started toward the door with Judith still in his arms. "Nothing." He answered, walking away.

He drank so much lemonade that I thought he must want to have that sour taste on his tongue for days. Then, as though holding us hostage with his presence was his only goal, he took Judith out to sit in the rocking chairs and held fucking court waving to the neighbors like he owned the fucking place.

I heard him say something that made no sense to me, but Carl understood. Then he offered a chilling thought, and I wondered if he were serious, or if this was one of his games. "Maybe I should just bury you both down there in the flower beds, then me and your hot as fuck older sister and this sweet angel in my lap could settle in the suburbs." He chuckled and kissed Judith's nose, staring at her sweet face asking, "What do you think about that?"

#Negan/OFC #OriginalGrimesDaughter #smut

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aeducanwrites · 6 years ago

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In response to the @dapromptexchange prompt, also found here on AO3:

“With the mark comes increasingly severe chronic pain - pain like the Inquisitor has never experienced. They keep it under wraps, though, not wanting to appear weak or have anyone pity them. But some days are worse than others and their intake of potions made by the healers plus their own herbal remedies and even alcohol are beginning to become noticeable to others. How does their LI find out and help them? If it is Solas, does he feel guilty for causing this?”

Pairing: Cassandra Pentaghast x Female Trevelyan

Words: 3540

Rating: T

---

Elera Trevelyan was woken up to the feeling of fire in her veins and sudden breathlessness, her private quarters—usually dimly lit by the moon’s light—aglow with a sickly green hue. She grabbed the pillow behind her in time to shove her face into it and muffle her agonized scream, body curling into a tight ball and arm convulsing freely as the pulses from the mark on her hand came steadily. She wasn’t sure how long it was until the pulses slowed and finally stopped, but by then Elera was covered in sweat and her throat felt raw. Her entire arm twitched from the after effects of the mark’s spasms, veins still feeling like fire but slowly ebbing into the dull throb she normally felt on good days.

If tonight’s episode was anything to go by, today would not be a good day.

Elera sighed in defeat and reached over to her bedside table, tugging the drawer open and pulling out a small bowl, a cloth, and a half-empty bottle of Tevinter wine Dorian had gotten her for her birthday. With a wave of her hand the bowl was filled with water, and she began the tedious process of wiping the sweat from her brow and checking on her arm, the same as every night. A few weeks back she’d found blood oozing from a battle-earned wound, reopened from the intensity of the mark’s spasms, but tonight she was lucky. Instead of blood, she noticed what looked like several scars creeping their way up her arm, tinted the same shade of green as the mark on her hand.

Elera grabbed the wine bottle, uncorked it, and chugged straight from the bottle.

She’d deal with the panic that would no doubt come in the morning. The moon was still bright in the sky, way too early an hour for her to be up, and at the moment Elera wanted nothing more than to sleep. She set the bottle aside and curled back under her covers, covering her hand with the pillow she’d screamed into to block out the light glow from her palm.

Just another average night for the Inquisitor.

***

Elera had a routine.

It started at Maker-knew-when at night when her mark decided she needed a little more pain in her life, a pain so sharp that when it had first happened her scream was enough to summon some guards who believed she was being murdered. Solas had assured her that once the Breach had been closed, the pulses were sure to stop and she’d finally get a full night’s rest, and--fool that she was—Elera had believed him. She’d suffered the pitying glances from her fellow troops and supposed worshipers each day while at Haven as she made her way from her cabin to the healer for a potion or two, then later to the tavern for a stiff drink. Blackwall had often joined her once he’d been recruited to their cause, the two of them swapping stories about their home and the biggest creatures they’d fought; a real dick-measuring contest. The Iron Bull, of course, beat them all once he figured out her routine, though half the time she wasn’t sure if he was telling the truth. Properly drunk, Elera would stumble back to her cabin, stare at reports that she didn’t know half of the words of, and collapse onto her bed to cycle through the day again. Missions were a little more difficult, but Solas was a competent potions-brewer and Dorian always had a flask on him, either of them helping her through depending on her party for that trip.

The pain didn’t stop with the Breach, though, but Skyhold didn’t need to know that. She was no longer Elera Trevelyan, Herald of Andraste, which was daunting enough on its own. She was Inquisitor Elera Trevelyan, leader of the Inquisition and a figure all of Thedas was to look up to if Corypheus was to be stopped. Showing pain wasn’t an option for her, so she had to hide it.

Her pain-filled nights never stopped, but it was easier to hide that with how secluded her quarters were from the rest of the hold. Elera had given the staff strict orders to only clean when she gave the go-ahead to stop any accidental discovery, and so far they had obeyed. From her room she made her rounds, gritting her teeth against the throbbing that seemed to increase in pace and intensity when she was near Solas for a reason she couldn’t understand. Perhaps it was lucky she always looked stressed or tense, because no one bothered asking why her jaw was clenched enough to hurt, nor why she kept her hands clasped behind her back when she could help it. By the time she got to Cassandra the surgeon would finally be in sight, and Elera told herself that was the only reason her heart leapt in excitement. It was never the way Cassandra swung at her training dummies that made her react that way, with her toned muscles flexing in the rising Orlesian sun under a loose shirt that hung just right (because she didn’t always wear armor, contrary to popular belief). Nor was it the way Cassandra would startle slightly when she noticed Elera approaching, a slight smile touching her lips in acknowledgement.

No, it was because the surgeon had the stronger healing potions that she’d always been awful at making herself. It had nothing to do with her ill-fated crush on Seeker Pentaghast.

That never fooled the surgeon, of course, not after the woman saw Elera run into a wall several times already as Cassandra swung at the practice dummy with well-practiced ease, stopping just short of chopping its head off or puncturing it beyond repair. It was embarrassing, to say the least, and she was proud when it didn’t happen again, the only embarrassing aspect of the morning being that Cassandra caught her staring and smiled at her.

Smiled. Elera could swoon from a smile like that.

She entered the surgeon’s building and quickly shut the door behind her, ignoring the older woman’s chuckle as she took a few breaths to slow her heart rate. When she was certain her flushing had stopped, Elera finally looked to the surgeon, an older woman with a kind smile that reminded her of her mother. She remembered vague details about her family, having been eight when she was brought to the Ostwick Circle, but she was certain her mother had a smile like Surgeon Rein.

“Hiding from your object of affection again, Lady Trevelyan?” Rein teased, and Elera brushes the hair out her face with her good hand to compose herself.

“Please, I haven’t been a lady in twenty-seven years,” she responded, sitting on one of the free cots and smiling warmly at the surgeon. “Do you have the potion ready, Rein?”

Rein’s smile faded, and she grabbed the potion from the top shelf with practiced ease. “I always do, my lady. How was the pain last night?”

A flash of intense pain sparked through the mark at the thought of the previous night, and she stifled her gasp by clenching her jaw tight. “It was worse than previous nights, I admit. Unfortunately, I can say that I’ve had it worse than this.”

The surgeon tutted and knelt before Elera, examining the mark and tracing the branches from it that traveled up her arm, tinted the mark’s unique shade of green even when the mark itself was otherwise dormant. “There’s only so much I can do to help with this matter, my lady. Perhaps Solas would be able to relieve some pain that my potions and tonics cannot.”

“No,” Elera said quickly, almost tanking her hand from the woman but just barely resisting. “It is bearable with what you’re able to provide, I promise.”

“It is spreading, Elera. It cannot be that bearable if it is consuming more of your arm each day.”

Elera swallowed thickly and looked away. She knew the surgeon was correct, that seeing Solas was likely the best solution for whatever was going on, but she didn’t want any of her companions to see her as lesser for being unable to handle the mark. She didn’t want Cassandra to see her as lesser, more truthfully. If it affected her field work, however, and endangered her teammates…

“I’ll consider it,” she finally said, voice trembling slightly. “I owe it to the people I fight beside, don’t I?”

Rein smiled gently and nodded. “They will be more understanding than you believe, my lady. Even your Seeker.”

“She’s not my Seeker, Rein. Nor am I a lady.”

“If either of those become true statements, then I will follow them as such. Until then, you are of House Trevelyan, a noble household, and I shall respect you as such—mage or not. Likewise, if you confess your affection to Seeker Pentaghast and she does not reciprocate, I will stop referring to her as yours. Believe me, though: she holds more affection toward you than you believe.”

Elera gave the surgeon a small smile and nodded. “Thank you. I’ll let you know if I’m right and you’re not.”

Rein smiled cheekily and stood, brushing the dirt off of her knees. “I would expect nothing less of you, my lady.

***

In the end, it was her own stubbornness that revealed her pain to her companions, rather than her approaching Solas for help like Rein had suggested.

Elera had meant to go to Solas, honestly, but soon after meeting with the surgeon her advisors had told her the sooner she got to Crestwood the better. The humidity and general dreariness of the place didn’t do anything for her mood, let alone the pain that seemed to worsen in bad weather. Though the constant rain had ceased after she’d helped get rid of the large Rift in Old Crestwood, it still rained about as much as the Storm Coast, and hunting down the Rifts she’d missed the last time they were there in such bad weather wasn’t the best. Varric and Solas were arguing with one another a few feet ahead over Cole, something that was becoming increasingly common between the two of them, and at her side, Cassandra huffed.

“They’ll never agree,” she said. “I do not know why they bother arguing circles around each other every day.”

“They both care about Cole in their own way,” Elera said, smiling fondly at the two men. “Solas keeps treating him like a spirit, and Varric a human, so they’re bound to disagree.”

“But he is a spirit,” Cassandra said, brows furrowing.

“He’s the most human spirit I’ve met. Unless Cole says something to me, and so long as Cole is treated kindly, then why does it matter?”

“I suppose you have a point. You can be the one to get that in their heads though.” Cassandra nodded at the men, and Elera laughed, bumping her arm against the Seeker’s fondly. For a moment she thought she saw a light flush on her cheeks, but that had to be because of the weather. Armor could get hot, and humidity did nothing to lower the heat of Crestwood. The silence dragged between the two of them for a time, only filled with Varric and Solas’ arguing and the pattering of rain against the cobblestone path they walked along, and it was comfortable in a way that Elera only felt in Cassandra’s company.

Which should’ve been weird, considering when they first met Cassandra was holding her prisoner, but no one was perfect.

A familiar green hue flickered up ahead, and Elera tensed, reaching back and grabbing her staff from its holster on her back. Her companions did the same at once, their eyes to Elera for the okay. They had a routine: she would aim her mark at the Rift to drain its power and weaken the demons that came from it while the others attacked them, join them while the demons were down until the Rift reaches full power again, rinse and repeat. It was only a matter of getting close enough to start the process, and Elera muffled the sound of her footsteps as she inched closer.

The mark flared as it usually did around a Rift, but rather than tingling it felt ready to burst, and she shoved her hand at the Rift to close it. The mark burned as it sucked the power out of the Rift, and Elera let out a scream, clutching her forearm and dropping her staff—a critical mistake. The demons were going after her at once, but her companions made swift work of the majority of them. Cassandra used her shield to block the ice beam a despair demon shot her way, glancing at Elera as she cast a barrier around them both.

“Are you alright?” Cassandra asked, though it was more of a shout so she could be heard above the demons’ shrieks. Elera nodded quickly and brought herself to her feet, grabbing her staff and casting a bolt of lightening toward the despair demon.

“I’ll be okay,” she responded. “Go help the others. I’ll be alright here.”

Cassandra seemed hesitant but conceded a moment later, nodding and running toward the pride demon trying to attack Varric. Sweat was on Elera’s brow, and she wiped at it before continuing with their routine. Fire, attack, weaken the Rift, repeat. It was elementary at this point, but each time she weakened the Rift she nearly collapsed again. Even while fighting her companions kept sending her worried looks, but Elera just downed a health potion and continued her onslaught until the Rift was weakened enough to close. Her knees were weak and her breathing was heavy, but she shoved her hand at the Rift anyway to close it; somehow, it hurt worse than just draining it did. She tried to swallow back a scream but ultimately failed, sounding more strangled because of her effort and feeling as though her arm was about to fall off.

If this was death, she’d gladly take it, though she’d miss seeing Cassandra every morning. A small price to pay for relief from this.

When the Rift closed she fell to her knees, arms wrapping around her to keep her from falling any further. Elera looked up and saw worry in Cassandra’s eyes, said eyes flickering between Elera’s face and her left hand. So much for a secret, she mused internally.

“Are you alright?” Cassandra asked, and Elera laughed painfully.

“No, not really,” she admitted truthfully before passing out, the last thing she heard being Cassandra ordering Solas to look her over for injuries.

***

Elera woke Maker knew how long later in an Inquisition camp, the red tent ceiling instead of her scrappy brown travel tent giving it away. She was in her night clothes and covered by what felt like two blankets, both pulled up to her chin and still managing to cover her short figure. It could’ve been a normal stop at camp, truthfully, but then she remembered the Rift and winced. That was certainly a way to reveal how much pain she’d been in since Haven, and not the way she’d intended by far, but what was done was done. She groaned and tried to sit up, but a hand on her shoulder stopped her.

Cassandra.

Elera winced and lay back down, staring up at the other woman uncertainly. The contemplative look on Cassandra’s face could mean anything, she’d come to learn over the past year, so she had no idea what to expect. It didn’t seem like she was inclined to speak, though, so Elera wet her lips and asked,

“How long have I been asleep?”

“About half a day,” Cassandra responded. Elera’s mind froze.

“Did you say half a day? Seriously?”

The Seeker raised an eyebrow. “Would I lie to you?”

She winced and sighed. The unlike you went unsaid but was certainly understood. “I’m just surprised. I haven’t slept that long in… in a while.”

“Because of your mark?”

“Yes, because of my mark.”

“Why didn’t you tell me it troubles you?” Cassandra asked, looking genuinely hurt. Elera’s heart broke; she hadn’t wanted to hurt Cassandra. “We could have gotten you proper help if we had known you suffered.”

“I didn’t want to worry any of you,” she admitted quietly. “I’ve dealt with pain before. It hurt like this back at Haven, and I couldn’t stand the pitying looks everyone gave me, Cassandra. I don’t want pity. I can’t stand it.”

“I believe you mix pity with concern,” Cassandra said slowly, pulling the blankets back from Elera and lifting up her left hand. Elera tensed, ready for pain to flare up, but was surprised to feel nothing but vague pins and needles along her arm. When she sat up that time Cassandra didn’t stop her, instead using her finger to trace the veiny branches that emerged from the mark to just above her wrist. She watched silently as she did so, uncertain of what to make of the situation. “I too often find myself mistaking concern for pity,” she continued, eyes flickering up to meet Elera’s own. “As a Seeker, we are meant to withstand enormous pain without flinching to do what needs to be done. As a Pentaghast, I am expected of the same for far less noble intentions. During my time with the Inquisition, I have taken a great deal of hits that led me to sustain serious injuries. Did you pity me while I was in pain?”

“No,” Elera said quickly, eyes widening. “I thought about dragging you by the ear to lay down and rest though.”

Cassandra chuckled and nodded. “I suspected as much. Tell me, then, why you would believe we would pity you, when you obviously do not pity us while we are in pain?”

“I—” She hesitated, looking away and rubbing her neck with her free hand. “I don’t know. In the Circle, when someone was ill or in pain we hid it in case a Templar saw and used our weakness as an excuse for punishment: Tranquility, because we couldn’t fight back, isolation under the guise of keeping disease from others, sometimes worse just because they could.”

“That is repulsive.”

“That was reality,” she countered, frowning. “I know you and Cullen wanted me to side with the Templars while closing the Breach, but between what was happening in Redcliffe and my experiences in a Circle personally, how could I not support the mages? Maker, I couldn’t show it, but when I heard Kirkwall’s Chantry went in flames and the Gallows were destroyed by the infighting I was ecstatic. Would Andraste and the Maker want a world like this?”

It was Cassandra’s turn to frown, and they both watched each other for a moment, neither trying to make the first move. Elera could slowly accept that she saw concern, not pity, but if the mark brought enough pain to knock her unconscious, what good was she as Inquisitor? She swallowed thickly and closed her eyes.

“So—”

“Elera—”

They both chuckled a bit awkwardly, and Elera nodded. “You first.”

Cassandra nodded and gripped Elera’s marked hand loosely in both of hers, her eyes intense as she looked at her. “I wish you had told me. I have… I have come to care for you a great deal since we founded the Inquisition, and seeing you collapse on the battlefield not from an enemy, but from this mark, terrified me.” She paused. “I do not want to see you come to harm, and if your pain is more chronic than temporary I wish to help you however I can.”

“Seeing you every morning helps me,” she murmured, blushing when Cassandra grinned. Slowly, as if she could scare Elera away with any sudden moves (which was possible, given her history), the Seeker brought the hand she held up to her lips and brushed them across her knuckles, her cheeks a deep crimson red.

“Is that why I’ve seen you run into walls while looking my way?” Cassandra teased, and Elera giggled to hide (or show) her embarrassment, nodding and leaning closer to the other woman.

“Perhaps.” Elera steeled her resolve and took a deep breath as she said, “Cassandra, I’ve come to care for you deeply as well. If I may, could I take you to lunch or dinner sometime? Just the two of us? There’s this little restaurant in Val Royeaux I’d love to try with you.”

“I would like that.”

The tent flap opened to the two of them grinning like idiots at one another, and Elera didn’t even mind when she heard Varric laugh at them. “You two finally got over yourselves, huh? Good for you. Hey Chuckles, she’s awake.”

She vaguely heard Solas explain how he’d cut off the majority of the pain she felt through the Fade and agreed to seeing him every few days to keep the mark from spreading any more than it already had, her mind more focused on the fact that she had a date with Cassandra.

Surgeon Rein would be delighted to be able to say ‘I told you so’. Elera couldn’t find it in herself to mind.

#dragon age inquisition #dai #dragon age fanfic #da fanfic #dai fanfic #my fics #dapromptexchange #cassandra pentaghast #cassandra x inquisitor #cassandra x female inquisitor #cassandra x female trevelyan #bi cassandra #lesbian cassandra #r: cassandra pentaghast x elera trevelyan #cassandra x female mage inquisitor #cassandra x mage #varric tethras #solas

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niall-talk · 6 years ago

Text

You wanted everything to be perfect for today. You had planned this day for three weeks. It was hell keeping this news from him, but you wanted to wait for him to be home from tour before you shared the news. You had dropped subtle hints but he would not pick them up.

You had facetimed with his mother to get her Sunday roast recipe that Niall absolutely loved. He asked why you wanted that. “We never fix roast for the two of us.” Your husband of two and a half years questioned your sudden interest in home cooked family meals.

“It's your favorite meal your mother makes. Thought I might need to know it so it will be someone's favorite sometime.” You thought something might click but nope. He was to far into his golf highlights on the TV.

The dvd you had his audiovisual team fix for you was delivered the day before just like they had promised. You had set up a tee time for him and Willie. Niall questioned your reasoning for everything lately. No wine or occasional beer, different food choices “You been on a health kick lately. What's up with ya?”

“Nothing. Just trying to keep us healthy.” You added a little emphasis on the word us and placed a hand on your stomach. You had not started showing any sign of a bump yet. You had been blessed to not have any morning sickness just yet.

“And I love ya for that I do,but kinda miss my wine drunk wife at times.” He moved behind you and slid his bare arms around you sides and pulled your back to his shirtless chest.

You had a spatula in hand that you threatened him with. “If you make me burn these eggs I'm gonna beat you with this.”

“Umm sounds interesting,” he hummed as he kissed below your ear. He didn't play fair; he knew all your weaknesses and he was using two against you. Hugs from behind and the sweet spot behind your ear.

“You're a menace,” you turned your face to his and pecked a kiss to his cheek before you returned to work on the scrambled eggs. “Go on and get the plates please. Oh and a couple bagels for the mini oven.”

He placed one more kiss on your neck before he moved away from you. “Niall do this. Niall do that,” he chuckled as he tried to mimic your tone. “Starting to feel like Cinderella here.”

“Ok Cinderfella,” you were proud of your play on words there, “I think asking for two things is not too much.”

“Is it too much to ask,” he sang out his own lyric. You couldn't help the smile that brought to your lips. You loved to hear him sing anywhere anytime.

After breakfast was devoured Niall headed to your room to get ready for golf. You were in the closet to find an outfit for the day. He joined you as he dressed in his new Nike golf clothes. A gray pair of golf pants matched with a royal blue Nike top. “So what you got planned for the day?” He asked as you slipped on a burgundy top.

“Just some errands today. Going to the market and other boring things.” You tried to act like you didn't have most of the day planned out up to the minute he found out your secret.

You had left before Willie showed up to collect Niall for their day of golf. You had your list of Maura's ingredients for the roast. You checked it four times to make sure you had everything. Back home you set to work on the meal. You knew it had to cook slow and on low heat nearly all day. You facetimed Maura just to make sure that you were doing it right. She laughed at your intensity of making sure every chop and slice was perfect.

“What is going on dear?” She questioned with that motherly tone.

“Just wanted to make sure it was close to being as good as your roast. You know how much he loves it.” It killed you not to tell her. The only people to know were you, the doctor's office and the audiovisual guys. It was self inflicted torture but it would be worth it at the end of the day.

Niall had text you that he and Willie were going to stop for a couple drinks. You text back ok but don't be too long about it. That you had a surprise for him.

As you added the finishing touches to the meal you heard Niall come in. “Honey I'm home,” he loudly announced.

You couldn't help but laugh at him. “I can hear that Dear. In the kitchen.” You called out so he could find you.

He sniffed at the air a time or two and let out a hum like sound. “Smells good in here. What's in the oven?” He made his way to you and kissed your temple.

“Your mother's Sunday roast recipe.” You opened the oven door to show him. The heat and the aroma hit you both and it made even your mouth water. “Almost ready. You go wash up while i get things ready.”

He came back cleaned up and changed into a pair of shorts and a t-shirt. Hair a mess from where he had his cap on most of the day. “Looks like someone got a little sun today.” You kissed his nose as you walked past him to set the table.

“Ah maybe a little. It was a nice sunny day. Just right for a round.” He looked at the table and asked what the special occasion was.

“No reason. Just glad to have you home and want to spoil you a little.” You smiled fondly at your husband; soon to be father of your child.

At dinner you asked Niall what he thought about babies and kids. He laughed, “They are loud, very needy, they stink, and they cannot do a lot till they get older. They are slimy and have grubby little hands.” You could feel your stomach start to churn with sickness. He continued, “and I can't wait to have a liter with you.”

You felt the tension release from your body. “A liter? Really Niall? I'm not a dog or a cat. And I don't want to have that many at one time.”

“Where did this come from?” He asked as he finished his plate. “By the way. This was amazing. Thank you my love.” He leaned over and kissed your forehead.

“Thank you and you are welcome.” You were glad he liked it. “I don't know. I just had a check up at the Doctor the other day we we talked about stuff. How I'm not getting any younger ya know.” You lied.

“So you want a baby? Didn't know if we were ready for one yet.” He replied very nonchalantly. “I mean with me still making music and going on tours. I wouldn't be able to be here to help much when you need it.”

“I know Niall. Trust me I know how crazy and hectic our lives are. But like I said we're not getting any younger.” You stood to clear the table. He helped you and followed you to the kitchen.

“Don't be that way,” he stated. “You know I love ya and if you want a baby then we can work on that.” He placed a kiss to your neck.

“Hey I got you a surprise. It's in the dvd player. Why don't you go get it ready and I'll join you in a minute.” You kissed his lips before you pushed him away.

He did as you asked and you heard the beginning of the dvd. You gave it a few seconds and you heard him call for you.

“Yes dear?” You entered the room to see him with a big smile on his face. The tv screen flashed pictures of the two of you or ones you took of each other. Suddenly there was a cut to an old I Love Lucy clip. Niall looked up at you with confusion all over his face. The old black and white tv show didn't seem to fit with what he had been watching. Ricky read off and announcement: “Dear Mister Ricardo my husband and I are going to have a blessed event. I just found about it today, and I haven't told him about it yet. I've heard you sing a song called “We're having a baby. My baby and me.” If you would sing it now it would be my way of breaking it to him.”

Your eyes blur with held back tears as you wait. You watch Niall as it all sinks in. Ricky starts to sing the song and more pictures play over the song. Pictures of you and him then a picture of a positive pregnancy test. Niall sets there speechless and damn near breathless. Just before the song ends the classic I Love Lucy heart appeared on the screen. It filled in slowly with the following words; We Love Baby Horan. Underneath it reads due June 2019.

Without a sound or warning he is off the sofa and wrapped you in his arms. “Is this? Are you? I mean wow.” He was beside himself right now. He didn't know what to do or say. He hugged you closer and tighter. You heard a sniffle or two and that's when your waterworks started to flow. You cried and he looked into you eyes. He tried to wipe away the tears from your eyes but it was no use. “You are telling me that there is a little one in here,” he moved a hand to cover your stomach. You couldn't find your voice so you just nod as a strangled laugh comes out of your body.

He kissed your lips and whispered back, “I love you.” Then let go and got down on a knee and kissed your stomach. “I love you too little one.”

Niall pulled you into him, and you snuggled in as close as you could. You whispered out to him, “I love you.”

#niall horan #niall fic #anon request #non smut #thank you anon #niall fluff #I Love Lucy

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anne-aerwyna · 6 years ago

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Anne ~ Chapter 13

Anne tried her hardest not to look embarrassed while walking down the pier from the Guild Hall. Unfortunately, looking embarrassed in public was one of the things Anne did best. She felt so self-conscious holding the wooden Sword and Shield that they might as well have been branded with the word 'SHAME'. She kept her head lowered and hurried down to the beach. Now that she wasn’t being tugged along by Dawn, she could get a good look at the outside of the Maerinia Guild Hall. The colored banners still fluttered in the perpetual sea breeze, an inspirational sight that Anne, for the moment, did not fully understand. She was captivated, so captivated that she never noticed the lightly armored man strolling towards her across the sand.

“Hey!” he called out to her when he got close, noticing that she was spaced out. Startled, she turned around too quickly and found herself falling backwards into the sand. She closed her eyes and braced for impact, but strong arms caught her by the wrists and held her up. She carefully opened her eyes and for a moment she was eight years old again; a stranger outfitted with a Sword and Shield had caught her for the second time in her life. “Hey, miss, watch your step! If you want to be a hunter you always have to be prepared! That’s lesson one for you: stay focused.” His knowing smile seemed familiar somehow. It suddenly dawned on her that this young man was probably to be her teacher, and she snapped to attention. “The Guildmaster told me that some new blood would be waiting for me here at the beach. My name is Henry Catcher Jr., and I’ll be your trainer for the afternoon. Now,” he said, sizing her up, “you look more than fit enough to swing a weapon, so you shouldn’t be falling down like that just because you’re surprised. What’s your name?”

Anne attempted to introduce herself. “M-my name is An-”

“Wait, wait, wait. Why can’t you get a sentence out without stuttering? There something wrong?” Henry interrupted, frowning.

“I’m n-not very good at talking to n-new p-”

“Well, from now on, I don’t want to hear it. Hunters have larger things to worry about besides talking to someone new. It might sound harsh, but I won’t listen to anything you say unless it comes out clearly, alright? If you have trouble, try taking deep breaths and focusing on what matters. I only have this afternoon to train you, so I’m going to make it tough and thorough. Understood?” Anne nodded.

“Good,” he continued, “now introduce yourself again. Properly this time.”

“My name is Anne Aerwyna.” She didn’t stutter, but the words came out a little slowly. Henry didn’t seem to mind. She took a deep breath and carried on. “I come from a small village in the woods, and my dream is to be a hunter. It’s nice to meet you.”

“It’s nice to meet you too, Anne! Alright, we’ll get started with the basics then, and move our way up into more advanced techniques. If you work hard we can be done before it gets too dark. Ready? Let’s begin!”

They started with simple sword manoeuvres, repeating the stances and swings over and over until she had them down. Then came shield bashes, and after those came what Henry called ‘standard Sword and Shield combos’. Anne called it ‘slashing and bashing’ because those combos involved both swinging the sword and slamming with the shield. She poured all of her mental energy into learning each technique, from the basic guard stance to the complicated roundslash finisher. Once or twice she almost chopped off her long white braid, but as the afternoon wore on she learned to control where her sword was in a slash, from startup to follow through. They trained hard until the sun had fallen halfway into the ocean, taking breaks intermittently to quench their thirsts. The practice had more benefits than just learning the combos; Henry’s strict teaching style in conjunction with his firsthand experience as a hunter forced Anne to be more perceptive and made her feel a little more confident. Henry really did not respond anytime that Anne stuttered, which forced her to think about her words and to control her feelings. By the time Henry called an end to the practice, Anne was feeling strengthened, both bodily and mentally. Even so, she was still tired and sore.

“I feel like I got run over by a Rhenoplos...” she groaned, sitting heavily in the sand. “Does every hunter go through training like that?”

“All the ones that want to live, yes.” Henry responded, looking out over the sea. “I cannot stress how important it is to keep your mind and body balanced. It’s a dangerous world out there, and no amount of training will guarantee your survival. Even expert hunters can go out and not come back. They have ample training and years of experience, and yet he... they still die. That’s why I teach now. To make people as prepared as they can be.”

“I’m going to go find Dawn,” she yawned, “and then I’m going to go home. Thank you for your help, Mr. Catcher.” She slowly got up and brushed the sand off of her shorts.

“Call me Henry. My dad was Mr. Catcher.”

“Alright. Thank you, Henry. I’ll see you later!” Anne called out to him as she walked off the beach and to the pier. This time, as she walked up the pier, she looked straight ahead. It took more willpower than she thought she had, but she didn’t look down once. In doing so, she noticed something amazing. Nobody was staring at her. Nobody cared that she was holding a practice Sword and Shield. She always imagined being judged by people she didn’t know, scared of what they thought about her choices. Maybe she didn’t have to worry about them after all.

Darkness had fallen, but the light from inside the enormous boat-shaped building at the end of the pier was warm and inviting. Anne cautiously stepped inside, on the lookout for Max and Aac. She did not want to run into them again; their first meeting was far too embarrassing. Luckily they didn’t seem to be around. Anne surveyed the tables inside the spacious hall, searching for Dawn. Eventually Anne found her, but not at all where she expected - Dawn was behind Abigail the Guild Gal’s counter dressed in the Guild Hall’s signature uniform, complete with the white hibiscus nestled in her purple hair. Her head was resting in one of her hands, green eyes half closed. She was unresponsive until Anne came up to the counter and waved her hand in Dawn’s face. She shot straight up and quickly recited her line:

“Welcome to the Maerinia Guild Hall, do you have something we can attend to?” Then she saw who she was talking to, and loosened up. “Oh, hey,” she coolly greeted Anne, “its the hunter. How was practice?”

“It was great...” Anne replied, jealous of Dawn’s casual conversation skills. “I learned a lot during such a short amount of time. It makes me wonder how much I could have learned at school if all my teachers were like that! Anyway, how was your day Ms. Aurora Tymeley? I can’t believe you didn’t tell me that you come from a family of hunters who know the Guildmaster!”

“Does it change anything?”

“Well... no, it doesn’t, but-”

“Then it doesn’t matter, wouldn’t you agree? It’s nothing special, just a prior connection. Is everything better now?”

“I guess so,” Anne pouted, “but you shouldn’t keep any important information like that from me if we’re going to live together!”

“It’s not important information.” Dawn began putting away the assorted papers strewn around her counter. “My day was boring but beneficial, by the way. I learned how to deal with zenny while working with quest application fees and I developed a passable fake smile after dealing with disagreeable people at the counter. More people are angry about failing a quest and losing their quest application fees than you’d think. I believe some of them deserve to lose the money though - what other outcome could you possibly expect when you fight a fire monster in a suit made of Neopterons? Honestly, people astound me.” Dawn gave Anne a small smile, and Anne felt any bad emotions she had fade away. “Why don’t we go home?” Dawn continued, “I’m unbelievably tired and we have to wake up quite early tomorrow to start working.”

“Yeah, I’m ready to sleep too,” Anne groaned as she stretched her back, “I got a killer workout.”

“Abigail, Anne’s back! Can we head out now?” Dawn called into the office behind her.

“Yeah, sure! Let me just give you guys your official guild stuff first!” came the muffled reply, followed by the sound of papers rustling and metal clanking. Abigail emerged from the office holding some documents and two badges with the crest of Maerinia on it. “Congratulations, you’re officially Maerinia Guild Hall members now! These are your official papers, I filled them in while you were working. You won’t need these very often unless your authenticity is questioned; I would recommend keeping them in a safe place and hoping that time never comes. This badge needs to be prominently displayed when you are accepting quests from anywhere. That way, when you get a reward, it will always come back here for you to pick up. Your first day starts tomorrow, but you haven’t been assigned any jobs yet. You can pick your own in the morning! That should be all for tonight! See you bright and early!” With that, she handed over the items and returned to the office.

“Alright,” Dawn said as she turned to leave, “that’s a satisfying conclusion. Time to go home.” Anne didn’t reply; she was staring at the badge, eyes moistening a bit as she admired it.

“I did it, mom...” she whispered. “I’m a hunter!”

Anne and Dawn left the Guild Hall in high spirits and made their way home by way of beach. They were exhausted by the time they reached Oceanview Cottage and after quick baths they went to bed, excited and anxious about what tomorrow would hold.

#AnneChapter13 #AnneAerwyna

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bellatrixobsessed1 · 6 years ago

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The Mechanical Dragon (Part 11)

Sorry it took so long to update I’ve been kind of busy with real life and SQ week.

Zirin is asleep when Azula wakes. Now is as good of an opportunity as ever. She has had this idea in her head for a while now but not the will nor courage to act upon it. She wonders just when her bravado had left her. Slowly, she thinks, she is reacquainting herself with it. Perhaps this is what compels her to dress herself and head for the door.

Dressing isn’t easy. She avoids her reflection if she can, but getting dressed requires seeing it. She gazes into the mirror. She still isn’t used to the look of herself. Somehow, she still expects to see the perfect, unblemished princess she once was with an elegant sweep of thick black hair to run a brush through. Instead she finds a slew of scar tissue. She doesn’t think that there is one place left without it. Mercifully the scarring on her face is faint, really it would only be noticed in close proximity during long conversations that left room for making more intimate observations. This doesn’t console her, not even slightly. Because she knows that they are there and she thinks they are ugly. Even if they weren’t, they are reminders.

Reminders of suffering

Reminders of dehumanization.

Reminders of a moment of weakness. Helplessness. Reminders that she is human. She had always wanted to be more than that.

The scars on her neck and arms are much more prominent, the kind she knows will earn curious stares and pitying eyes. She doesn’t want them, yet she can’t seem to look at herself without pity. She finds that she hates her checkered skin and would almost rather see it ripped from her bones. She hates it too, how she no longer has her thick silky hair. She had been in a state of insecurity when she had chopped her bangs off—this? This was infinitely worse.

She runs her fingers over her head. Her hair has barely grown back at all. She decides that she needs to do something. Anything to make her feel strong again. To take the edge off of an appearance that suited her so little.

And so she acts upon her idea, this little thing that has been in her mind for some time now.

She pulls on a simple cloak and slips out and away from the house. Very briefly she thinks of telling Zirin and Okon where she is heading, but she is Azula and Azula does what she will. She needs no permission. She thinks for a moment that after all they’ve done for her she owes them at least an explanation for her sudden disappearance, that she doesn’t particularly want to worry them. But she is already a decent few feet down the yard and doesn’t want to go back inside. Besides, she will only be gone for an hour or so.

She tries to recall Zirin, she knows that she knew her in a time before her capture. But her time in the cellar had virtually driven all of those memories out. A place like that has no room for kinder memories. She keeps walking, maybe if she keeps walking she will remember. Maybe if she walks to the right spot the memory will come back. Right now, remembering isn’t her goal though—it is more of a secondary mission. No, right now she has other desires. But Zirin, who has been so good to her and for no reason (as far as she knows), seems so dismayed at her lack of recollection. All at once, she considers that she doesn’t deserve such kindness. She walks a little faster.

The town is just waking when she enters arrives, she sees only one or two people and not a single open shop. She frowns to herself but decides to try anyhow. She wanders nearer to the edge of the village, this time the dancing woman is absent and there are no strange wonders to marvel at. None except for the man with the rocks in his ear lobes.

It is just as well, she is looking for him.

He doesn’t seem to be ready for a client, he is smoking from a pipe. She needs his talents now though, so she has no qualms about interrupting. It has been so long since someone has bent to Azula’s will, she needs to make it happen. She needs to show dominance to someone. But this man, leaves her no room to do so. He is cool and compliant when she mutters, “I want one.”

He points to his collection of tattoos and she nods. “Normally I don’t open this early…”

“I can pay you extra.” She hopes that he will take a debt offer.

He waves the offer off, “I don’t need extra. What I do is an art, I enjoy it well.” He pauses and beckons her into the shop. “What and where?”

It takes her a moment to decipher that he’s asking what kind of ink she wants. Instead she mutters, “I can’t pay right now.”

He shrugs, “I’m no fool. I can recognize a royal. You lot have the same eyes. Very gold eyes. You’ll get me the coins.”

He is way too trusting. Not that she doesn’t plan to make good on her word. He motions for her to sit and she does. “I want a dragon…”

“Let me guess, around the bicep.”

She shakes her head.

“You have more originality than most people.”

She points to her head, “here.” She pauses. “I want it to have wolf-bat wings.”

“An interesting choice.” He notes as he arranges his needles and inks. “Any particular color?” Azula points to the blue ink and then the gold. “Blue scales?”

“Outlined in gold.” Azula adds. She watches infuse the needle with blue. It dawns on her that this will probably hurt, but she can’t imagine that it will be worse than what she has endured before. At least this will bring her some strange, exotic beauty. She thinks to request turning her scar tissue into jagged lines of lightning. But she decides that it is a job for another day. She does her best to hold still as the needle graces her head. She shudders, it brings back unsavory memories and she has to remind herself that it is okay. That she wants this, she had asked for it.

The artist, she notes, is a man of good work. He seems to put very much care into it. Into each detail. She realizes that this might take more than an hour or so. “In one session.” He informs her after she asks, “it will probably take the whole day.”

She thinks of requesting multiple sessions but doesn’t care to make the journey into town more than once, the people make her nervous, she doesn’t want recognition. She doesn’t want questions. She also wants the ink to be on in full, should Zirin vocalize any complaints.

Azula tries to let her mind wander as the artist does his work, but she finds that it has nowhere to go. No memories worth focusing on. Mostly her mind leads her back into that cellar and under the hog-monkey head and she doesn’t desire to stay. Everything seems to remind her of it, she tries not to think about the ink-filled needle because the reminders it brings are very potent. She tries to think of Zirin but she has few memories to fill her own head with; the ones she does have are played over and over until they are no longer special. Even so they are all relatively recent, to the point where she doesn’t think that they count. So she makes an even more forceful attempt to recall her pleasant days before her capture. But she feels almost blocked. She wishes she can repress the memories of her capture with just as much success. But those seem to haunt her.

.oOo.

Her head is pulsing and stinging unpleasantly by the time she gets home. The tattooist looked at her as though she were some kind of rarity, a spectacle he’d never seen. Apparently, she was one of the first who hadn’t passed out after hours of tattoo work on her head. She had silently taken the compliment, he didn’t realize that she has already gone through the worst of it. That the tattoo is more or less a mild annoyance.

She is greeted by the fragrance of goldenrod and firelily and she knows that she is almost at the porch. The scents are kind to her and she has come to associate them with pleasant sensations. Azula decides that she likes firelily and goldenrod. Quietly she pushes the door open but Zirin has been sitting their waiting for her. She believes that this is how it would have been with she and Ursa if her mother had actually cared. It doesn’t register to her that she is still wearing her hood until the first fireball whizzes past. She moves out of its path and pulls the hood away from her head. She cannot tell if Zirin is angry or relieved. Azula concludes that it is a mixture of both. She doesn’t see the reason for her distress. Anyways, she is tired. As she moves to get around Zirin she finds herself wondering which position would be best to sleep in so that she won’t agitate her fresh ink. Her musing is cut short by a hand snaking around the bend of her arm. She fights the instinct telling her to throw a good burst of fire. Zirin doesn’t seem to take any notice of the reaction she induced, instead she mutters, “I hate you.” She didn’t expect to feel a shove, but she can’t bring herself to be bothered by it. She is so sleepy and if she does let herself feel—even slightly—she knows that she will lose herself in the most unpleasant way. So she lets Zirin repeat herself and throw a punch for each word. None of them hurt in a physical sense but Azula doesn’t want to lose the only person who could be bothered with her.

To help her.

To take care of her.

Even still, Azula could feel a prickle of annoyance. The need to throw back. But she walks quietly down the hall. "You ain't gonna leave, again are you?" She hears Zirin spit.

Azula turns and tilts her head some.

"It ain't a hard question."

It isn’t. So she answers immediately with an affirmative head nod. Azula goes where she pleases.

Azula goes there when she pleases.

She has been caged for far too long by doctors or sadists. Sometimes she believes that they are one and the same.

"Well, can you at least tell me when yer gonna go into town for…for a tattoo?" Zirin sputters.

Azula can tell her yes, that she will let her know when she is leaving. But she doesn’t like to make promises. She crawls into bed, she still savors the feeling of a soft mattress. Of blankets and pillows and warmth. Of comfort. She wants more comfort but doesn’t know how to ask for it. She doesn’t know if she should. She doesn’t think she has earned it after running off without a word, even if she had intended on coming back.

“Can I sleep next to you?”

Azula makes room. She feels safer with someone else there. Zirin makes her feel safe. She wants to ask Zirin about the relationship they used to have, but she isn’t sure that it’s worth it. She doesn’t think that they can get back there. She is tired, but these thoughts and questions keep her awake—this she is sure has always been a problem. Her mind is too loud, she thinks too much. She is glad Zirin is there, this time she is not alone in her unease. She rolls onto her side, and tries to get comfortable. This side happens to face Zirin. She meets her eyes, they are a deep and pretty brown. A kind brown, she can see hints of sorrow in them and she is almost certain that she is the cause of it. Perhaps she’ll tell her the next time she leaves. For once she lets her mind turn off, she knows if she thinks about it she will draw back. She is still weary of touch because so far touch has only brought her pain. She thought back to the night when Zirin worked on the wolf-bat wings. She holds onto the feelings that came with laying against her. And clings tighter to the feelings brought to her when she felt a soft kiss on her head. And from there, mustered up the courage took Zirin’s hand. It felt natural, she gets a vague sense that she has done it before because the sensation is familiar.

She sees Zirin’s lips curve up and then her hand is on Azula’s cheek. She hovers her pointer above the fresh tattoo and then pulls back, probably remembering that it would sting if she touched it. But Azula takes her hand and carefully guides her fingers over the new ink.

“It’s pretty. Suits you well, Azula.”

Azula is glad that she likes the tattoo after all. It makes her feel better, it makes her feel stronger. It makes her feel more like herself. Azula squeezes the hand she holds. For the first time in a while she doesn’t dream of Li and her son.

She dreams of magma mounds.

#Azula #Zirin #Avatar #Azula/Zirin #Fanfiction

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iknownothingihearnothing · 6 years ago

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BoJack Horseman: 5.2 The Dog Days Are Over

Kay, we ended episode 5.1 with the Goldfish Ladies doin’ their thang in BoJack’s pool. Aside: if their water ballet team isn’t called the Goldfish Ladies, I’ma be disappoint.

Fish Fridays have gotta be like The Purge for these ladies.

We also left off, at the tail end of the episode, with Diane and Mr. Peanutbutter. He was dropping her off at her new, um, let’s just call it “not a mansion in the Hollywoo Hills” after a trip and giving her a set of signed divorce papers.

“Take *that*, our marriage!” she joked awkwardly before leaving.

So, Diane and Mr. Peanutbutter are friendly but awks around each other. As tends to happen when exes who’ve seen each other nekkid many, many times try to stay friends with each other.

The episode starts with Diane crying in her car, mascara running down her face. She is wearing an outfit that is very unDianeish and she has cut her hair short. AKA the post-breakup haircut all girls know and eventually come to regret.

As poor Diane is cryin’ her eyes out over her canine ex-husband, uh, this happens:

This couple must be transplants from the underwater land BoJack went to for the premiere of Secretariat in season 3.

Still crying, Diane heads to the airport and asks to be taken as far away from Los Ageless as possible. She demands this of the airport attendant, who is an emu.

After the title sequence, Diane lands in Vietnam, and as she is walking through Hanoi, dodging people and reptiles alike (look, conspiracy theorists! lizard people!), Stefani calls, salivating for fresh content. Diane, if you remember, is a contributer at the website Girl Croosh, which I guess is a site for, like, everything.

She promises to write something up from there, the article of which becomes the Top 10 Reasons Why You Should Travel To Vietnam

I, personally, do not have ancestral roots with Vietnam...as far as I know. I took one of those Ancestry DNA tests a few weeks ago and am waiting on the results. As far as I know I could be 15 percent Tongan, which would be awesome.

I should visit Germany. Or Austria. Or Russia. Those I know I have roots to. Really close roots. Munich-y roots. My dad’s side of the family were from a valley near the Caucasus Mountains. I am literally Caucasian.

Sometimes, I don’t know whether to interested in the rich history or saddened and embarrassed at how white that is.

In VO, Diane explains that her family wasn’t much help in explaining to her where they came from when she was growing up, or their family history. We are shown a flashback of pre-teen Diane inquiring to her dad about just this, but he is busy with baseball. Likely a Red Sox game. Or a Red Fox game.

Furthermore, many of the stores and billboards bear her last name.

I know. Many people in Vietnam share surnames. One of my friend’s last name is Nguyen.

Everybody she passes, Diane continues, look like her (except the flamingo in the nón lá hat).But then a woman bumps into her and speaks Vietnamese to her and she has no idea what she’s saying.

At the gorgeous (cartoon) hotel, Diane checks in just as a gang of American filmmakers bust in; they are filming a movie in the hotel. It stars Laura Linney as a recently divorced woman who comes to Vietnam to find herself.

So much for escaping the LA life.

Diane puts on the dress she bought and the rice paddy hat but she still feels like a tourist.

Speaking of tourist--

Cut to Diane in her usual clothes plus the rice paddy hat appearing to take a selfie in front of the Thien Mu Pagoda.Then everything zooms out.

Pretending to be somewhere more awesome than where you actually are to make other people jealous of you on social media? The hell you say, that never happens!

Diane eats her chicken in the park when Mr. Peanutbutter calls, and, in his usual Mr. Peanutbutter way, inquires as to why she left his party early. He was gonna ask earlier but he was distracted by Todd getting his tongue stuck to the ice sculpture. Todd’s tongue swelled up, and Mr. Peanutbutter had to interfere between him and a mob boss when Todd started talking to him all muffled, the mob boss thinking he was making fun of his deaf sister.

Ya, don’t blame the mob boss.

She makes up an excuse about having a plane to catch to Vietnam while Mr. Peanutbutter literally catches his newspaper in his mouth like a good boy and he promises to pick her up like a good boy/ex-hubby. He is also glad that he is not paying for her phone bills anymore because that international call is gonna be bazongers

Wah wah wahhhhhh as joke falls flat.

In flashback, a still longhaired Diane and Mr. Peanutbutter, recently separated, are celebrating how friendly their separation is by having a divorce dinner. Their waitress turns out to be an excitable young pug by the name of Pickles and I need to call my next dog that. Not fit for a pug, tho. Maybe a dachshund.

She and Mr. Peanutbutter seem to hit it off right away, much to Diane’s annoyance. They both like water! And food scraps! And are full of boundless energy! Amazing! Diane just wants to know if he’s signed the divorce papers yet. Then suggests a housewarming party to curb his loneliness.

Back in the Bojackverse present, a family of American tourists dressed in American flag shirts and polos mistake Diane for a Vietnamese citizen and talk to her like she’s an idiot.

Yup yup yup. Reminds me of the tourist from California who carved her initials into the Roman Colosseum and then took a selfie.

I can go a few streets over and meet new people, Diane!

This is a bad reason to travel to Vietnam, Diane!

The internet exists, Diane!

At the hotel bar, Diane meets one of the only other Americans staying there, a dude working on Laura Linney’s movie about the recently divorced woman going to Vietnam to find herself. He appears to be a bald eagle, but we do not know that he is indeed bald because he is wearing a hat.

He is likely bald, tho.

I mean, unless people start fake tanning and fist-pumping there. Then I’d feel right at home.

In flashback, Diane hangs a painting of the gorgeous Te Huc Bridge at the Hoàn Kiếm Lake in her crappy new apartment just as BoJack stops by. While helping her move, he, in true blunt BoJack fashion, informs her that this place is a shithole and invites her to stay at his place for a bit. She likes the shithole though. It may be a shithole, but it is her shithole.

At Girl Croosh HQ, Stefani is signing a contract outside of their be-tented building. It seems that the “cockroaches at IT tried to unionize” so Stefani called an exterminator--ahem, “negotiator”. The exterminators, natch, are flies. She also requires that listicle from Diane of 5 Empowering Roles For Women Over 40 Who Would’ve Been Better Played By Jennifer Lawrence.

Somehow, I predict that role opposite that (now 58) year old actor Maggie Gyllenhaal didn’t get because she was told she was “too old” to play his love interest at the shocking age of 37 will go to JLaw. She’s, like, 28 now! That’s almost thirty!

Still in flashback, Diane’s trying to get work done in her shithole when a pipe leaks and a stray cat meows and someone burps. She shows up at BoJack’s door intoning “I’m a sad, sad girl with a dirty apartment” as was the phrase agreed upon she needed to utter if she ever needed a space.

Diane finishes her article there and has a glass of wine with BoJack before going back to her shithole. But it turns into...

Keep saying it, Diane. Maybe if you utter it enough times, it’ll actually come true! like the Darling kids shouting “I can fly!”

Diane mumbles drunkenly how weird it is that they are both single at the same time. BoJack knows why he thinks it’s weird, but why does she? It is just weird, they can totally make out and it’d be okay. But that is gross because he’s BoJack and he’s gross and she’s getting a divorce and allowed to be mean. Then, just as BoJack is ruminating on the last time Diane stayed in the guest room, when he went to New Mexico *andtotallydidnothookupwithateenager* she passes out on the couch in a drunken stupor.

In all my years of seeing therapists, not once has any of them advised me to fly to the capital of Vietnam.

Diane’s therapist also gossips about the non celebrities she sees. Including Demi who had a first husband named Bruce and a second named Ashton. And a client named Angelina J., who does not think of herself as an actress anymore.

An actress, a director, a humanitarian, a savior of all mankind, all in a painfully obvious attempt to keep the spotlight on her.

Yeah, I am not much of a Jolie fan.

Diane meets American Bald Eagle working on the Laura Linney movie at the bar and helps him order a drink. He thinks she’s a Vietnamese citizen. They walk through Hanoi’s market area, he tells her about his life in America, thinking she cannot understand a word he is saying, and she kisses him.

I have no bloody idea how you tongue a dude with a beak. There must be some particular angling involved.

American Bald Eagle takes her to Ha Long Bay...the set. It’s actually a backdrop for the Laura Linney movie. American Bald Eagle is the executive grip on the crew. He is Very Important. Or so he claims. But then, as they are perplexedly kissing again, a klieg light falls beside them and Diane curses. In English.

The jig is up!

Diane tries to defend her actions but American Bald Eagle ain’t havin’ it. She’s the bad guy here!

Diane is NOT having it, y’all.

Oooh, mic drop!

Number 9 reason to go to Vietnam:

She worries that this is similar to reason #5, which is Get Out Of Your Natural Habitat, but it’s whatever. Diane is getting divorced, she is owed a whatever.

In flashback, Diane has just chopped off her hair and she is wearing a kick jumpsuit looking all fly ready for her ex’s party but when BoJack arrives and compliments her she flies off the handle a bit, accusing him of trying to take advantage of her when she is vulnerable. He sighs and leaves, telling her that Mr. Peanutbutter will love her new hair.

At the party, Todd is wearing what he always is and eyes the ice swan greedily. Yes, he will lick it tonight. Oh, yes he will.

Oh, Todd. You are a delight.

Diane wanders into the library that used to be hers (her Belle-room) and bumps into Mr. Peanutbutter dressed in a tuxedo shirt and what look to be electric blue plastic pants. Carrying a dog bowl full of nachos.

Mr. Peanutbutter mumbles that she looks good. The new haircut really brings out her...neck. It is all really awkward and uncomfortable and Mr. Peanutbutter quickly finds an excuse to greet someone else.

PC hugs Diane and cries that she saw the whole thing; she will be her rock as long as it does not interfere with being Mr. Peanutbutter’s rock because they are both her friends and it also cannot interfere with her work, which is keeping her very bizzay.

There are a lot of heartbreakingly awkward moments in this episode. I kinda sympathize with PC, though. It’s always a fragile position to be in, being a friend of both parties in a divorce. There’s a fine line you have to tread.

In the present, Diane gets on a plane in Hanoi and calls BoJack to apologize for how shook she’s been post-divorce. She really just needs a friend right now. Get that, BoJack? A friend.

No more yanky your wanky, BoJack.

Or maybe do.

On the plane, none other than Laura Linney sits down beside Diane.

After she gets over her initial star struck reaction, Diane asks her how her movie ends. Does Laura find herself in Vietnam? Well, yes. Literally. She finds her clone sleeping with her ex. And they team up to take down the government.

Someone call Alex Jones!

But those, Diane says in VO, are not the real reasons to go to Vietnam. The real reason is because you see your ex-husband kissing someone else at a party.

Mr. Peanutbutter picks Diane up from the airport, we are shown the uncomfortable exchange from the first episode in his car, and just as she is about to leave with the signed divorce papers, Mr. PB admits that he is seeing someone. Who is not her.

Flashback to the party. PC is still rambling on about being supportive while talking on her phone about work related stuffs when Diane spots her ex and Pickles through a window. She kisses him, and, at first, Diane waves it off as just Mr. PB being drunk. Then, the golden retriever and the pug kiss more thoroughly, and poor Diane is crushed.

There. You can fully see the shock and heartache in her eyes, rendered perfectly through simple animation. Another reason why I heart this show so much.

Because even though she left him, even though she knows she made the right choice, it still frigging HURTS. Like shards of glass pricking her heart.

The heart is an unreasonable muscle.

Diane spends the next few frames drifting through her days. At her shithole apartment. At BoJack’s. On the plane. Even in Vietnam. In VO, she tells us she had hoped the vacation would give her some perspective, but it doesn’t. When she returns, she feels worse than ever.

And that is okay. It’s okay to ache. It’s okay to be confused. When your heart is crushed, nothing makes sense.

So, back in the present, Diane takes a deep breath, smiles a little, and says--

Wow, that was a great episode! I mean, they are all great, but this one was particularly awesome. Took FOREVER to cap, tho. I loved the artistry of the animated Vietnam, how beautiful Ha Long Bay and the Pagoda looked even rendered in animation. The attention to detail is exquisite.

The emotions were so real. When our hearts ache, whether it be after a horrible break up or a divorce or any kind of tragedy in our lives, we tend to be erratic like Diane was in this episode. We lash out at our friends. We try to doll ourselves up when we know we’re going to see ex boyfriends or girlfriends. We feel as if we’ve been stabbed when we glimpse them moving on when we cannot. Sometimes, we take unplanned trips. Or some of us spend a lot in lieu. I could not take such a trip as Diane took after the worst breakup of my life because I was in the middle of a semester...so I spent money at the local mall. Everything I earned. My paycheck was GONE as soon as I got it. I think I spent over a grand in one month alone.

We find ways to cope. And eventually, we start on the road to becoming okay again.

#Bojack Horseman #Bojack #bojack season 5 #recap

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of-storms-and-saints-blog · 6 years ago

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Part 01: Tainted Hero Chapter 11: A Proper Grey Warden “How do you feel?” Duncan’s face hovered over her own, his expression neutral. A small hint of relief reflected in his eyes. “Like I’ve been trampled by a Gurn . . . And that nightmare . . .” “What did you see?” “The horde . . . Thousands of nightgangers . . . And . . . And a huge dragon . . . The Archdemon.” Duncan nodded. “Now you understand how we know this is a Blight. I’ve arranged a meeting with King Cailan and General Loghain at mid-morning. I want you and Alistair present.” “Me? I’ve only been a Grey Warden for a few minutes.” “I can’t discuss it now, but there’s an important task you and Alistair are best equipped for.” Duncan turned on his heel and left. Brina glanced back at Jory and Daveth. At some point after she passed out, Alistair and Duncan had wrapped the bodies and draped blue flags with the Grey Warden’s silver griffon sigil over them both. Such a waste, but I understand now. Thank you, Korth, for delivering me from such a fate. Alistair sighed heavily. “Two more dead . . . At my Joining only one of us died, but it was . . . Horrible.” They stood in silence for a time. Brina couldn’t erase the images of their deaths from her mind. Without warning, her stomach growled loudly. Sudden hunger brought cramps to her stomach. “By-the-way, you’re going to be very hungry for a few hours. It was a surprise to me too.” Brina shot him a look of irritation. “Thanks . . .” A broad grin spread across Alistair’s face. “Don’t mention it!” “You could have warned me sooner.” “Where’s the fun in that?” Alistair unbuttoned a pouch on his belt and took out a slice of bread wrapped in cheesecloth. “Here, it’s not much, but it will get you between here and the breakfast fire at the Warden’s Camp.” The hunger prompted Brina to snatch the bread from his hand and devour it in two bites. After she swallowed the last mouthful, her eyes grew in embarrassment and horror. She covered her mouth. “I’m so sorry! I don’t know what’s come over me.” Alistair laughed. “I told you! Go get some food. I’ll take care of everything here.” Brina nodded and went down the steps. She turned at the bottom. Alistair had knelt between both bodies with his head in one hand. This . . . This is only the beginning, isn’t it? Brina, what have you gotten yourself into? She followed the scent of food; eggs, sausages, flatbreads, various roasting meats and fish from the Wilds. Vegetables were somewhat scarce with winter so close at hand. As long as the battle was soon, what food remained would last the journey home, however far it might be. So long as they won. Brina found herself back at the infirmary. It had become familiar. Sister Paulette greeted her with a smile. “Good morning, Sister . . . Ah . . . May I have some of that?” Over the central fire were several pans. One had sliced sausages and scrambled eggs. Brina’s mouth watered and her stomach growled again. “Of course!” “My thanks.” Paulette handed Brina a full plate. She then went to a nearby table and sliced a chunk of bread and spread some butter on it. “Here. A shipment from Rainesfere came in just before you arrived. They haven’t sent soldiers, but at least they are helping . . .” Brina struggled with her food. She wanted to eat it in a single gulp, but she forced herself to eat slowly, one bite and a time. “What is your name, Sister?” Paulette’s face turned red. “I’m sorry, I never introduced myself! My name is Sister Paulette.” “Where are you from?” “Edgehall, originally. I lived in Honnleath for a time when I was little. Then my family moved to Denerim. It was there I joined the Chantry. Being the youngest of six with few prospects, it made the most sense. What about you? I know you’re Avvar . . . But that’s it.” Brina swallowed a particularly large bite. Her appetite was getting the better of her. “My hold is the- was . . . The Black Wolf Hold. I am called Brina Ulriksdotten, daughter of Ulrik Brynjolfsen. He was the Master of Hunt. Considered the best in our region even among the other holds. He was such an expert, the Thane depended on him during war times for organization. My Ma was Aela Caldansdotten O Stone Bear Hold.” Brina laughed to herself at the thought of a story she was once told. “You know, my Da was so good at hunting and tracking, he managed to sneak into Stone Bear, steal my Ma, and sneak out without even leaving footprints. What makes it even more impressive was the fact he had announced he would sneak in that night and challenged the Thane into doubling the guard and having them watch for him.” Paulette nearly dropped her cup. “He stole her? I don’t understand. That’s so . . . That’s so-” “Barbaric?” Brina raised her brows. Paulette blushed again. Brina laughed. “‘Ts all right. I know how it sounds. That’s how it’s done.” Brina paused and took a drink of water, noting that Paulette was listening very intently. “She was willing and even helped. The Thane of Stone Bear was so impressed that he pledged a blood oath to our hold . . . If only they had known we needed help . . .” “What do you mean?” “Do you know how Duncan recruited me?” “The Warden-Commander?” “He was visiting the hold when I underwent my ritual to become a shaman . . . The hold was attacked by nightgangers. Darkspawn. It happened so fast, during the night. No warning. No time to react. Too many for my hold to take.” Paulette's hands were over her mouth. “Oh . . . I- I had no idea . . . I'm s- . . . I'm so sorry, Brina.” Brina shook her head. “I will not rest until every last one of those bastards is dead. It may not bring back my hold, and I'm sure there are too many nightgangers for me to take alone, but I'm going to try.” “I . . . I think I would too . . . were I in your place.” Brina finished off her stew and bread. “Thank you again, Paulette. How are Carver and Aveline? The injured soldiers from yesterday?” “Aveline's fine. Senior Enchanter Wynne completely healed her. She'll go back to the main camp today. Carver-” A commotion broke out. A large man with messy jet black hair and blue eyes tried to force his way between the guards at the entrance. His armor bore no sigil. In fact, it appeared his armor was pieced from multiple sets and were ill-fitted for someone as burly as he was. “I need to see my brother! I need to see Carver!” “Ser, you cannot just barge in here! The patients here need rest to heal.” From across the infirmary, Wynne approached calmly. She placed a hand on one guard's shoulder and the other on Carver's brother's arm. The men stopped struggling. “Ma'am, are you in charge here? Please, how is Carver? I only just heard. When the soldiers didn't report back this morning, I thought he was dead! But he is here . . . I must see him. Please.” Wynne turned to the guards. “It's all right. Let him in. I will take him to his brother.” The guards released him. “Thank you. Where is he?” “This way. What is your name, Ser?” “Garrett. Garrett Hawke.” Wynne and Garrett approached a tent, where Brina assumed Carver was being kept. “What? What are you doing here?” That was Carver's voice, I think. “What do you mean, 'what am I doing here?' I thought you were dead and then found out you were here. I came to see if you were okay!” “I'm sure you did. You came to gloat because you came back from your scouting mission unscathed.” “Well . . . I- . . . No. All right, maybe. Did you at least get the bastard that did that?” “Do you really care?” “Yes. I need to know you aren't going to go on a revenge rampage.” “Yes, I got him.” “Good. You won't be able to participate in the main battle tomorrow.” “What? They said I'd be good to go!” “I say you're not.” “That's not fair! You're not Mother. You're not Father either!” “Carver . . .” “No! Say it. Say I'm going to be at the battle!” “I just don't think you're ready.” “I'm going. I don't care what you say.” “You-” Garrett cut himself off before growling. He was silent for a moment. “Fine, but you will be at my side the whole time. Mother can't know. Or Marian . . . Or Bethany for that matter. This is between you and me.” Brina couldn't see them, but Carver's voice dripped with sarcasm. “Yes, Mother.” Garrett sighed loudly. “How do you feel?” “Fine.” “I'll . . . I'll let you rest . . .” Garrett emerged from the tent, rubbing his face. Under his breath, as he passed Brina and Paulette, he muttered, “Fucking little shit. He's damn lucky I love 'im.” Brina glanced at Paulette. “Well . . . That answers that . . . I must be going.” “Oh! All right.” Brina made her way to the Grey Warden Camp to find Alistair. At the entrance, another guard stood watch. At first, he eyed her suspiciously but seemed to recognize her. “Warden Brina?” “Aye.” “A messenger was just sent to find you. Report to Warden Constable Amaya. She has some equipment for you.” “Where is she?” “Follow this row. Third on the right.” Brina followed the row and stopped at the third tent on the right. The flap was tied open. She bent to glance inside. “Well don't just stand there. Come on in.” “Oh!” She entered the tent but was unable to stand upright. The tent was too short for her. As her eyes adjusted to the dimly lit tent, Brina was surprised. Warden Constable Amaya was a dwarf. Her hair was shoulder length and mostly grey. Half of it was pulled back into a ponytail. What was surprising to Brina, was the fact that most female dwarves she had encountered kept a clean-shaven face. Amaya had thick mutton chops on her cheeks and a long braided goatee that was tucked into her belt. This dwarf was obviously a warrior. Her armor was made of thick plate. The few bits of visible leather and cloth were dyed blue, matching the Grey Warden sigil that decorated most of the tent's furnishings. Inside the tent sat a cot and a table covered in maps and messages. A gigantic, very thick two-handed hammer was propped against the bed. A large number of mugs laid about as well. It was then Brina realized the air smelled heavily of liquor. It was almost enough to make Brina feel warm and fuzzy. “So, I see you survived the Joining. Good thing, too. We lost every single recruit in the last three groups.” Amaya never once looked up at Brina; instead she was focused on one particular map in front of her. “Be prepared for nightmares until the sodding Archdemon is dead. Then get used to it. Drinking helps sometimes. Drowns it out.” Amaya looked at her. “Until then, you need better gear. You can keep your staff . . . Or whatever that is, but we have armor that will better protect you from melee and ranged attacks. And, as a Warden, you're expected to bear the sigil.” Amaya gestured at Brina, and they left the tent. Brina was relieved to stretch upright again. She blinked at the bright light. “Normally, I'd tell you that you'll be kept to the back, up high so you can strike at a distance, but the Warden-Commander told me he has a different job for you. So your gear has some modifications.” They walked all the way down the row and stopped in front of a blacksmith. “Hey! Jerome!” The man stopped hammering. “Yes, Warden Constable?” “Is the new recruit's shit done?” “Eh? Oh, yea. It's here. Just got it back from the Tranquil about ten minutes ago.” Blacksmith Jerome went to a chest and pulled out several armor pieces; several layers of chainmail and padded leather, a metal breastplate, bracers and shin guards, a set of rerebraces with griffon-shaped pauldrons, and cuisses. Lastly, she was handed a helmet with griffon wings adorning the sides. “Oh, Sweet Tyrrda's Tits . . . I've never worn anything like this before . . .” Warden Constable Amaya blinked at her. “That's right. I forgot you're a savage. Come, I'll take you to Warden Lorrel. She was one of the last recruits who survived before you. She's also a mage. She can show you how to put on your shit. This way. Thanks, Jerome.” Jerome grunted and resumed hammering. Brina followed Amaya two rows over and back up the direction they had come. They were about seven tents down from the entrance. Both flaps were tied back. “Hey! Lorrel! Help this new Warden.” Amaya turned on her heel and left. Brina stood looking back and forth between the tent and the dwarf. An elf appeared from the darkness. “She's a bit much, 'in't she?” “Ah, aye . . .” “Ya never worn armor before, have ya?” Brina shook her head. “A'ight, com'on. First, take off your outer layers, but keep your small clothes on . . . Trust me. Chaffs less . . . then put this on.” Lorrel tossed one of the chainmail layers at her. Brina noticed it had a soft cloth layer on the inside and had straps that went around her feet and hands to keep the sleeves and legs from riding up. Gaps on the inside of her elbow and knees for improved moving and comfort were also present. Brina noted the flap tied between her legs. And here I thought I'd have to worry about bathroom breaks. “Okay, now this layer.” Lorrel tossed another layer of chainmail. This draped over her like a tunic with straps at the sides. It went down to her knees. Lorrel threw the padded leather. It also hung like a tunic and was about the same length as the chainmail tunic. It was striped blue and white with a black belt around her waist. “I'll help ya with everything else. They're tricky the first couple times.” Lorrel slid the breastplate over Brina's head and tightened the straps. The bracers had leather gloves attached. Brina got them on, and Lorrel tightened the belts. The rerebraces and pauldrons were trickier, but soon they were strapped to her upper arms and shoulders as well. Brina slipped her boots on. The shin guards covered the front of her knees and part of the top of her foot with tiered plate. The cuisses attached to her belt. When it was all on, Lorrel helped her connect them together. “There now! A proper Grey Warden ya are!” “Thank you.” She glanced outside, and a realization hit. Brina's eyes grew wide. “Hakkon's balls, I'm late! I'm sorry, I must go. I need to get to a meeting. Thank you, again!” Brina ducked through the opening of the tent and dashed out of the camp back toward the old temple. On the way out, the guard at the entrance yelled after her. She didn't hear most of it, but managed to catch the words “Alistair” and “war meeting.” She waved behind her.

#fanfiction #dragonage #dragonageorigins #avvar #avvarorigin

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