#neigheD tROt galloP

[muppetjokernumbersixtyninefan]

if I may ask, what are your pronouns?

neigH snORtS nEigh/neigH snORtS nEighS

...neIgh Neigh gALLop Snort nEigh tRot neIgh fOal bUckS NEighS SnorT neigH trOt bUck neiGH, Snort wHinniEs/wHinniEs snoRt

*neIghS wHinny trOt bUck foaL neigheD Snort cAnter whinnY Trot neigH cAnTer Whinny foAlS sNOrT cAntereD neIGh cAnTer NEigh gallOP tROt sNOrt bUck NeighS cAnTer gALLop, neIgh'Mare JUmpS TroT snoRt whinnY neighING TrOt MAre bucK nEighS neIgh gaLLop whinnY neigH snORtS nEigh Jump snOrt bucK whinniES

[evilgwrl]

TF 141 x Reader (Apocalypse!AU)

Immune: Ten

WARNING: This is a 18+ Poly!141 series (MDNI)

CW: ANIMAL DEATH, gore, angst, kinda fluff at the end??? but very depressing chapter

Taglist: @echo9821 @beebeechaos @h3art3at3rr @johannxseb @cndy-l0v3 @nylluns @pomegranategum @tapioca-marzipan

Masterlist

GUYS I APOLOGISE THIS IS NOT AS GOOD AS I WANTED IT TO BE BUT IM HOPING TO FILL THE VOID WITH A SMUTTY NEXT CHAPTER </3

His vision was a stain of burnt umber, ropes of sepia blurring into blown pupils, eyes flushed with demand as he stared down at you. His cheeks were ample with a delicate rose hue, blonde lashes dipping into his skin every time he flickered down to your spread frame, your own lips flushed with the blush of the staggering movements between you two.

Silky webs of spit connected the two of you even when apart as exploring hands fed into the pillowy flesh of your thighs, groping at anything he could get a hand on. Your mind was fluttering, brain wracking with static as he felt over you, paying attention to every inch of delicate skin.

There was a harsh crack from the sky, a zip of thunder bellowing rage against quickly darkening sky as Daisy whinnied, trotting anxiously around her paddock, tail swishing as she bucked back and forth on her hooves. Cecil’s neigh sounded tortured as a strike of lighting broiled before zapping down into a patch of grass beside him, hind legs rearing as his body leapt over the lowest part of the fence.

You pulled away from Simon, a confused expression on your face as you pushed him aside, feet planted on the ground. Panic struck you as you noticed the lack of the stallion, a pained whine in the distance as you swore under your breath, burning legs scuffing against the dirt as you yanked open the gate, feet trampling onto Daisy in a rush as she bucked slightly.

Heavy feet kicked her hind as Ghost called out from behind you, the horse already trailing into the depths of the forest after the escapee. Bruises accompanied your skin as your legs slapped on the un-saddled horse, a wince leaving your lips at every stride Daisy galloped.

Trees succumbed to a blur as you whistled, mouth in a permanent ‘o’ as you called out for Cecil, a distressed huff leaving the mare as she darted between florae. The familiar crackle of tar sounded against her hooves as you reached the main road, your eyes clouded with desperation as you slowed down, frantically searching.

A scurry in the bushes alerted you as you listened to the sound of hooves scraping against the ground in the distance, a frantic neigh seeping into the wind as you hopped off Daisy, whistling for her to follow the road home as you sent her off, apprehensive feet trailing to the sound.

Fingers wrapped anxiously around a large rock as you ducked in between branches. The crackle of whines rode through the air, the disturbed tone of the horse’s pitch sending a surge of chills down your spine, paralysing you as you took in the sight.

Hot metallic rushed into your nostrils, pools of blood dribbling through an open wound, elongated talons of bone sticking out of the stallion’s leg as he let out a guttural whinny, eyes wide as his head slapped across the ground anxiously, teeth jutting with every agitated breath.

Your knees were weak, limbs slipping into a coma as you collided with the ground, your own flesh meeting the burn of twigs as you dragged yourself across the floor, a harsh sob sounding from you at the mangled, broken leg before you.

The horse was restless, snout slipping between inches of dirt as he attempted to rise, his weight fleeting to gravity as the sight of crumbled ivory dug into untouched skin.

“Fuck- I’ve got you, baby, I’ve got you,” you wept, hands resting against his muzzle as you attempted to comfort him, pure agony displayed through the shiver of his muscles, twitching under broken flesh, fur saturated in the stench of crimson.

Your eyes were wild, stray tears pooling at your cheeks as you stroked the animal before you, pure misery evident in brown eyes as he huffed. “I’ll be back, I’ll be back, ok? Mumma’s gonna help you.”

Your voice was frantic, the crack of heartache slipping into every syllable as your chest wracked. Your legs felt useless, skidding against the road, trickles of blood pooling down your broken flesh, batters of broken skin tingling with irritation as you paid no mine.

The vision of the house before you was stagnant, the blear sight connecting like puzzle pieces as you blinked, sliced corium staining the handle rails as you tripped inside, mangled body colliding with the floor as you struggled to stand. Soap stood up in confusion, taking in the flummoxed sight of you.

“Bon, what’s wrong?”

“I need a gun and the car keys.”

“What fo-“

“I need them now,” you screeched, throat pained with desiccation as you rubbed desperately at your cheeks, skids of blood flushing your skin as you let out a pained sob. The Scotsman was quick, hurrying you to the car as you slammed the door shut, the chug of the engine crying into a ruptured breeze, the sound of lighting barely monitoring through you as you drove, hot tears cascading into the mixture of ichor painted upon you.

Soap was in a flurry, calling out to Gaz, who had found Daisy whining out front, quickly securing her away. Ghost had attempted to trail after you when you bolted off but lost sight, instead fixing the broken fence that had caught on Cecil’s hoof.

The commotion from inside hicked in Price’s chest as he fled down the stairs, only missing you as he watched you leave.

“What the bloody fuck is going on?” the Captain huffed, eyes brushing against bushy brows.

“She came in, covered in blood, screaming for a gun and the car keys-“

“And you didn’t think to go with her?” Ghost spat, storming into the house.

“She wasn’t waiting for anyone- didn’t even shut the car door as she drove off-“

The road in front of you was a blur as you followed the sickly trail of blood that leaked through an opening in the bushes, the ignition still running as you hopped out. You clambered through the bushes, wincing as a branch snagged against your cheek.

The silence was deafening as you whined, pushing through a broken web before stumbling upon the severed horse in the distance. Your scream entangled in your mouth, trapped between your tonsils as you subsided to the forest floor, the grunts of the dead stampeding across the stallion’s body, hisses of torn flesh seeping with blood as its head buried into the thickness of crimson-coloured mud.

“Get off him,” was supposed to leave your throat, but nothing did. Your whine was agonising, scorching through the grounds around you as the carbon steel slipped from your fingers, your hands shoving at the zombies surrounding the corpse as you grabbed the rock you had dropped earlier, pummelling into the rotting skull of one.

The sickly scent of mould infiltrated you as you gagged, straddling the body of another as you thrashed down on it, the squelch of a blackening brain migrating into the crevices of the miniature boulder. Your lips were pulled back in a snarl as you kicked the final deformity from your horse, battered hands colliding with the brittle bones that supported a decayed cerebrum.

Your pummels were never-ending, the rock scraping into the dirt as the monster turned to mush, nothing but the crumble of perished organs left. Your wail was excruciating as you collapsed against the dead horse, his body mangled into a pile of broken flesh, wounds tethered against fur as his eyes rolled into a lifeless state.

The rain that followed was harsh, pooling around you in an infested state as you struggled to breathe, your lungs popping with turmoil as you bawled, thick hiccups catching in your throat.

Your body collapsed into a tender frame as you struggled, clambering to save the horse that was already dead. “L-Let me go,” you wept, as heavy arms only took you away. There was a soft rustle against your hair, fingers running through the locks of your hair to comfort you, the sound of a gunshot going off in the distance.

Your eyes were struck, by blank images of massacred limbs and stolen innocence coerced you to stay awake as you stared aimlessly down the road, your ears static as Ghost attempted to talk to you, his hands tucked around your waist.

You didn’t reply.

You were grief-stricken, barely able to make it up the stairs as you were undressed, wounds seeping across broken skin as you barely hissed when a rag was pressed against it. You were defunct, your eyes void of nothing as your lips folded into a thin line.

The bare warmth of the water did nothing for you as Price lifted you in. Unheard words passed through you as you watched him walk away, your head slipping under, and your eyes still open.

You didn’t want to close them. Not now, not again. It was a deadly compilation. Flickering images of the gruesome scene haunt you with every blink. The water had turned a murky pink, dirty liquid sloshing as hands scorned under your arms.

“Sweet’art, I need you to answer me. I need you to tell me if you swallowed any blood or flesh.”

You only blinked.

“Y/N, I’m serious,” Price snarled, prying open your mouth as you snapped him away.

“No.”

That was enough for him.

The rest of the night had turned to a soundtrack of haze, pushy hands bringing water to your lips as you shoved them away. Your knees were sticky with wet cotton and bandages, your palms stinging with the residue of alcohol. They all came in, pressing a gentle kiss to your forehead in an attempt to soothe you.

Simon was last, his hands resting against your cheeks as he pressed dry lips into the heat of your skin. You winced as you grabbed his wrist, broken eyes glancing up at him with strains of blood-shot veins.

"Will you stay?"

[the-muppet-joker]

I have been galloping like a war horse in the dark in the rain of the night. My Joker feet throb with pain and by God I need to shit but I will not go back inside. I will not cease my trotting until my I can fully empathize with the horse experience! NEIGH NEIGH NEIGH NEIGH NEIGH NEIGH NEIGH NEIGH

[clearancecreedwatersurvival]

God I wish more fantasy writers knew how horses work.

‘After a couple hours at a solid gallop they arrived-‘ after galloping for multiple hours??? That horse is fucking dead what are you TALKING about. Have you ever tried sprinting for multiple hours at a time?????? If you are traveling long distances by horseback you are keeping at a walk with an occasional trot and an even more occasional canter, you are not galloping the poor beast the whole way there I don’t care how cool the aerial shots of galloping horses look in film.

Also they make more noises than just neighing. For the record. Since I’m on the subject.

[hwasoup]

Tale As Old As Time

Playlist to read along with !!

songs used for inspo: No Matter What (reprise), Wolf Chase, etc...

art credit goes to Marbipa

ooh lord, my back hurts from so much from all the typing I swear once I start writing I don't stop until it's done, any whoop I hope you enjoy this chapter as well!! Try guessing who our new characters are, they'll be introduced soon!!

like always let me know if you’d like to be tagged !

prev | ch.3>>

warnings: enchanted items, fear, slight harassment, slight misogyny

word count: 2.5K

Chapter 2: The Castle

A week after departing from the village….

Mauricio happily hums a tune to himself as he directs Felipe where to go. “Ahh Felipe, can’t you taste it?? First place at the contest, I mean this contraption is very nifty, I’m sure I'll win a prize” He holds onto the reins a bit tighter as he looks around the dark woods. “Well…isn’t this lovely…if only I could recognize which woods I'm in” he says. After a while he reaches a fork in the road. He didn’t know whether to go left or to go right “well…this...is…something” he thinks for a while and looks in both directions “well then Felipe, let's go left, shall we? Let's try to get somewhere before-” Thunder rumbles in the distance..."before the storm hits.” he says while directing the horse to go on the path.

After a while the woods slowly became more spiritless, the trees started looking more shriveled, and the vegetation slowly started disappearing. The wind has picked up a bit and the thunder rumbled louder than before. Mauricio looks around a bit more and says “well where did you take us Felipe? This can’t be right?” he says blaming his decision on the poor horse. Then Howling is heard in the distance. Felipe backed up a bit looking around anxiously as he nickered some more “We should turn back around” Mauricio says.

Suddenly out of the blue he sees a wolf behind him and immediately yells “GO FELIPE GO” The Horse neighs loudly and starts galloping, Rain has started falling and lightning crackles in the sky. Mauricio didn’t even bother to look behind him as he could hear the pattering of feet and snarls behind him. He was being chased by a pack of wolves. The path in the woods slowly started disappearing and the trees became larger and thicker, the rainfall seemingly to become harder and stronger. The roots protruded in the path as the pair ran away. A branch that was in the way makes Felipe trip and fall, the wagon unlatching itself to the horse as it runs. Mauricio fell down and looked at his wagon, all of his supplies scattered, and his dear invention destroyed, but there was no time to think about that. 

He then heard a deep growl behind him and saw the wolf, he got up and ran as fast as his feet could take him and ran to the edge of a small cliff. He looked down and saw the rest of the wolves snarling at him, ready for him to jump so they could pounce at him. He sees Felipe in the distance and yells “FELIPE POR ACA, VENGA!” The horse whinnies and runs towards him, allowing Mauricio to jump and perfectly land on the horse’s back. He looks behind as he sees the pack chase him and his grip tightens on the horse’s reins. He turns back around to see a gate. “TO THE GATE FELIPE” he cries out. The horse runs as fast as its hooves can take him and the gates open allowing the pair to quickly escape and immediately closes as soon as they enter, leaving the hungry pack of wolves barking and snarling outside.

Felipe gallops until it becomes a trot as he could see a stable where he could stay. Mauricio wipes his face in relief and then gets off the horse and brings him to the stable “well let’s get you settled, at least you have some food and water…now, let me go up and uhm…” He looks up at the grandeur castle that is before him. “Greet our host...” he says in awe of the castle. As he walks up the stairs to the entrance, he wonders why can’t seem to remember this place existing or even why there was a castle here in the first place. His thoughts are replaced by the thunder booming as he needs to get inside to stay dry from the storm. 

Mauricio then arrives at the door and looks around, he can see all the lamps lit up, but nobody outside. He knocks on the door and the door creaks and opens. “Thank you, Thank-” he looks next to him and sees nobody by the door. He looks behind him as he sees the door closing on its own. Confused, he slowly walks inside the castle, he sees beside him a fireplace with a lovely chair. “Hello?” He walks a bit more and looks up and sees the intricate designs of the castle “I’m just a traveler…seeking shelter from the storm.” he says, a bit defeated. His words echo in the seemingly empty castle “Perdon por molestar…anyone home?” he says as he takes off his coat and hangs it on the coat rack. The coat rack then discreetly looks behind him and shakes off some of the water off the coat to release some weight. However, in a corner at a small table a clock and candelabra stare at Mauricio. “Damn...he must have gotten lost in the woods…” The clock smacks him quickly “shut up you idiot” she whispers.

Mauricio then turns around confused, making the two stop moving. “Excuse me?”

He then slowly walks towards the table and looks at the clock. “Oh how beautiful…” He then peeks at the candelabra and picks it up “oh how extraordinary.” Music from a piano starts playing, which makes Mauricio turn around and gently place the candelabra back down on the table. Mauricio then fixes himself and walks towards the music.

“Ooh he got some taste.” 

“Relax, he was talking about me.”

Mauricio then approaches the room where the piano was and sees it playing on its own. “Oop-” the piano says as it stops playing. Mauricio looks at the piano in awe and confusion and stutters a bit over his words. He turns back around to where he originally was and goes to approach the chair by the fireplace. “Well now, wherever you are…I’m just going to sit down and warm myself by the fire. 

In the distance there was some clattering which caught Mauricio’s ear. He quickly walks towards the noise as well to find himself in a dining room that had food by a chair. “Oh, muchas gracias…I couldn’t thank you enough.” he immediately sits down and starts eating, savoring the foods and flavors in his mouth. Then as he ate, he saw a cup on a small plate slowly approach him and he looked at it in utter awe, shock, and fear. “Daddy says I wasn’t supposed to move because it's scary…..sorry” says the cup in a little girl’s voice.

Mauricio’s eyes bulged out in shock as he quickly replied “its…it's alright…” 

He then bolted out of his seat, walking as quickly as he could to the entrance “I…uh. Cannot humbly thank you for…for your hospitality” he says while taking his coat and putting it back on. “But uh it seems to me that I…uh well. Bid you...adieu…” he says with a bow while opening the door. “And uhh…good night.” He slams the door walking as fast as he could, not knowing that someone was watching the whole time. Outside, the storm has stopped, and Mauricio quickly goes to Felipe and mounts him. With a quick thwip from the reins, Felipe galloped into the gardens. “No wait, stop, stop, stop.” The horse stops and Mauricio gets off “Roses…I nearly forgot...” He approaches the rose garden and notices that they were all white, “I promised mi niñita a rose...” Mauricio walks into the garden scoping a perfect rose for Y/N unaware of the owner lurking…watching him as he walks in the rose garden. The host quietly moves from one place to another as he sees Mauricio get closer to a rose. The horse starts nickering and whinnying in anxiousness, hoping that his owner would see his warning.

Mauricio then takes a look at one rose and smiles thinking about Y/N and brings his hands up to pluck the rose, but instead pricks his thumb with a thorn. The host growls as he sees Mauricio reach in again trying to pick out the rose. Finally, Mauricio with a smile plucks the rose for Y/N but instead hears a loud thud and a roar to see the figure in front of him. Scaring him nearly half dead and making him fall on his back. He whimpers in shock and tries to back up in utter fear “HOW DARE YOU STEAL FROM ME, I GIVE YOU SHELTER AND THIS IS WHAT I GET ?!”

Mauricio pleads to the monster in front of him. “N-no p-please, it was only a g-gift for my d-dau-daughter” he says while staring at him. “WHAT ARE YOU STARING AT?” Mauricio stutters some more. “OH, I SEE...WE’VE COME TO STARE AT THE BEAST, HAVE WE?” Mauricio looks at him and stammers some more “n-no I didn't mean to offend. I-” A low emanating growl comes from the beast as he approaches him “CALLATE, YOU’VE DONE PLENTY…NOW YOU’RE COMING WITH ME” He takes Mauricio and drags him back inside the castle. Felipe whinnies and bucks his hind legs as he tries to get the reins off of him, eventually succeeding and running off back to the village.

—----------------------------------------------------------------------------

A few days later…

Ben is looking through a bush where some of the leaves have started goldening and falling off, while staring at y/n’s house. “...y/n is sure to get the shock of her life...” Ben nods at Eddie and looks at himself at the puddle next to him. “Oh yes Eddie, this is definitely her lucky day!” He looks away from the bush and turns around to see everything perfectly set up. He then clears his throat to catch everyone’s attention “I would like to thank all of you for coming to my wedding, your contributions are greatly appreciated…but now I gotta go in there and well” he clears out his throat once more “propose to the girl” he says with a chuckle. The guests chuckle and laugh as well unlike the 3 women in the corner who are weeping.

“Now you Eddie, have the most important job, when I come out the door with y/n...” 

“Yea I know, I’ll strike up the band” he says a bit disinterested. As he looks at the band and makes them quickly rehearse the wedding march. 

Back in y/n’s home however, she’s sitting on a chair happily reading her book until she hears a knock on her door. She approaches it and using her father’s invention to see outside, she notices it's Ben and she groans loudly to herself. “Ok…you can do this” she says to herself in a whisper as she opens the door. “Oh, why Ben... que sorpresa...” she says with a feigned voice of interest. 

“Why isn’t it, I'm always full of surprises,” Ben added. “You know y/n there isn’t a single woman in town who would be aching to be you right now.” Y/N backs up a bit “Oh uh…pero como?” Ben chuckles “Well, this is the day your dreams come true my dear...” he saunters his way more to get closer to her. “What do you know about my dreams, Ben?” He chuckled once more “Oh plenty, now here picture this.” He sits down on a chair and places his muddied shoes on the table. “A rustic hunting lodge, my latest kill...roasting on the fire, while my pretty little wife massages my aching feet, while the little ones play on the floor with the dogs” he says while looking at her with a smoldering look. “We’ll have six or seven...”

Y/N grimaces at his words and thinks at how unbelievably daring this man is right now. “Perros?” she asks with a pained smile. “No Y/N, strong boys like me!” Y/N rolls her eyes “you...don't say...” she says now looking for some sort of exit from this situation. “Now Y/N, who do you think that little wife will be?” Y/N’s eyes widen in horror and says “erm... Uhh.. let me think…” Ben interrupts her with a grin “Why, YOU Y/N.” Y/N turns away from him quickly and backs up to the door. “Ay pero, Ben I- I’m speechless..I.. well really don’t know what to say” she says as Ben approaches her with a determined look. 

Then, by using both of his arms, Ben pins her to the door with a winning smirk “say you’ll marry me then” he says as he leans in closer to Y/N. “Perdon Ben pero…I’m uh..I just...” Ben has leaned in close enough to kiss her. In a quick attempt, Y/N uses her hand to find the door handle and opens it, quickly moving out of the way, making Ben surprised and fall into a puddle of mud. 

Eddie on the other hand only hears the door open and signals for the band to start playing. He then directs the band for a bit and then hears something moving. He turns around to see Ben completely covered in mud “soo uh…Imma take that as a no...” Ben, enraged, looks into Eddie’s eyes and mutters to him “I WILL have Y/N as my wife, make no mistake about that” he states, as he begrudgingly walks away in embarrassment from the rejection, he just took in front of his wedding guests. 

After the commotion dies down, Y/N peeks out of her front door and looks around “Is he gone ??” She looks down to confirm that Ben is gone and walks outside to feed her chickens “I can’t believe him, ME? To be the wife of that headstrong, boorish, conceited man.” She grabs the chicken feed and throws it everywhere in annoyance “imagínate, señorita riley, just imagine, his little wife.” She throws the bucket of chicken feed to the ground. “I need some place to scream.” 

A few minutes later she ran on top of a hill and layed in the field of dandelions. “My dreams? What does he know about my dreams… I want adventure, I want it so much that I can’t imagine someone else imagining it.” She quietly lays in the grass for a while longer and plucks a dandelion and blows it, watching the seeds spread in the wind. “I want so much more than this tiny village,” she says to herself. “If only someone could understand...” She sighs and closes her eyes, taking in the air from her surroundings. She inhales once again but then stops as she hears whinnying in the distance. She turns around and gets up as she spots Felipe in the distance. 

“Felipe, I- what's wrong?” She looks around to see that there was no wagon and especially her father. “Dónde está papá ?” she says as she tries to calm down the horse. "Where is he Felipe, what happened?!”. 

She took hold of his reins and frantically responded “Please, we must go find him, Take me to him !!” She takes Felipe back home quickly to grab her cloak and to replace the horse’s broken reins. Once she does, she mounts Felipe and takes control as she rides out to the woods to find her father.

taglist: @cupcakeinat0r , @miguelhugger2099, @mcmiracles, @xxsugarbonesxx,@codenameredkrystalmatrix,@deputy-videogamer,@lxverrings,@miguelzslvtz,@itsameclinicaldepression,,@ricekrisbris,@loser-alert , @thedevax, @uncle-eggy, @corpsebridenightamare, @m4dyy,

[tenderleavesbob]

Despite Twilight's coaxing and having successfully pet Epona, Hyrule remained leery of horses. Warriors couldn't blame him. Loftwings were supposedly safe, friendly beasts as well, and Sky's Loftwing still disturbed Warriors a little. Not frightened, no matter what Legend said. Disturbed. It didn't help that Sky's Loftwing seemed fascinated by Warriors and often tried to groom his hair and wanted to eat his scarf.

Sky said Crimson was only trying to groom the scarf, too, since it was so important to Warriors. Warriors called bullshit.

Warriors knew Hyrule, though. He knew the boy would love the feel of the wind in his hair and the feeling of freedom only a horse could provide.

Well. The feeling of something horse-like could provide.

"Are you sure this is okay, Warriors?" Hyrule asked. He wrung his hands and rocked from foot to foot. "I don't want you to feel uncomfortable."

Warriors snorted and tossed his mane. He watched Hyrule's gaze settle on his horn and his golden hair. Hyrule kept his hands to himself, though. Silly boy.

"He's fine with it," Wind insisted. He reached out and stroked Warriors's mane. With Warriors on the ground as he was, he was both accessible to Hyrule and Wind's greedy hands. Wind loved his mane and was almost as bad as Twilight about braiding it. "You'd know if he wasn't."

Warriors snorted again and nodded in agreement. Nodding in this form required far more dramatic motion than his other form, and Wind laughed as Warriors's hair went flying again. If they didn't get moving soon, Wind would absolutely start braiding his mane.

"If you're sure..." Hyrule bit his lower lip and let his hand hover over Warriors's back. Warriors refused to accept a saddle, but he wouldn't need one to keep Hyrule from falling off. "This won't hurt you?"

"C'mon, Rulie!" Wind hopped on Warriors's back. Warriors barely managed to not grunt and frighten Hyrule away. That was not how anyone rode a horse. Or shifter, in his case. "I'll help you!"

"And if Wars drops you," Legend called from his sprawl in the grass, "I'll light his tail on fire!"

Warriors whinnied in protest. He hadn't dropped anyone so far! Including Legend!

"You can do it!" Twilight cheered from atop Epona.

Wild and Time sat astride two horses from the stable, cheering Hyrule on, too. Sky smiled encouragingly from the grass beside Legend. Four stretched out beside them both, content just to relax in the sun. He didn't look like he was paying attention, but Warriors knew Four better than that. He was always watching, always assessing.

He possibly was overdue for a ride, too. Warriors made a mental note to follow up with him later.

Hyrule still looked nervous, but after a soft neigh from Warriors, he slowly slid on behind Wind. Wind cheered. "Let's go!"

Warriors eased himself back to his feet. Hyrule's breath caught and he kicked his legs. Warriors swallowed back another pained grunt. These boys were going to kill him.

"Let's go!" Twilight called. His bright grin lit up his face, banishing the ever-present shadows. Time grinned at them, and Wild whooped and urged his horse forward. Everyone else immediately followed with a thud of hooves.

Warriors meant to go at a trot, get Hyrule used to it, but everyone else was galloping and he instinctively followed. Hyrule shrieked and Wind cheered. Despite the boys' lack of balance, it was easy for Warriors to keep them steady on his back as he ran. The wind whipped through his mane and his tail flowed behind him, and if Warriors had the breath and the right vocal cords, he would have laughed.

It was fine. Hyrule's startled yelling quickly changed, and he laughed when Warriors couldn't.

Wild and Time led the way, and Warriors ran alongside Twilight and Epona. Twilight grinned at them, bright and free. In response, Wind whooped and almost unbalanced himself and Hyrule. Warriors steadied them both without the pair ever noticing.

"Isn't it great, Rulie?" Twilight shouted.

Hyrule's tinkling laughter was almost lost in the wind. "Yes!"

"Faster!" Wind hooted, and what else could Warriors do but obey?

By the time they were done, Warriors was exhausted and Wind and Hyrule were sore from the unusual exercise, but no one minded. The sun was warm and the wind was perfect and carried their laughter for miles.

For that afternoon, they were free.

[fortheloveofwonderland]

Rusty | Chapter 8 | S.R

Previous Chapter | Next Chapter

Chapter Summary - You and Spencer come across the wild horse who was responsible for his accident and she takes a liking to you. Luke gets a call from his old partner and is sucked back into a case from his past.

A/N - the second half of his chapter will take us to the BAU and we start to piecing together the readers past and why she was on the run. And we are finally introduced the to fics namesake.

Pairing - Spencer Reid / Fem! Reader

Category - strangers to friends to lovers | angst | smut minors DNI

Warnings - swearing, very brief mention of horse castration, talk of male ejaculation, very brief mention of past Maeve and past addiction, slightly pining Luke, mentions of Spencer’s assault and details of medical records following the assault, vague spoilers for CME, gun violence, past abuse, slightly angry Luke.

WC - 6.3k

Chapter 8 - A Horse With No Name

“Wait a minute. Hang on. Stop! Stop!” Spencer practically yelled and you slammed on the brakes at his sudden change in demeanour. 

The car screeched on the asphalt, coming to an abrupt stop. Spencer was already working his way out of his seatbelt and trying to open the door. 

It had been an uncomfortable morning to say the least. You’d been alone in his bed when you’d woken up and not at all surprised by that fact. 

You’d found him down at the stable, grooming Wilbur. He didn’t look at you but at the horse when he asked if you could drive him into nearby Pipe Creek for a new cell phone after his old one had been smashed to pieces. 

You complied and the two of you took a drive. 

He hadn’t once looked at you all morning, not even when you’d stopped for coffee after procuring a new phone. Conversation hadn’t been much more forthcoming either and after several attempts to engage him, you’d given up entirely. 

Now on the drive back, his shouted words which caused you to stop the car were the most he’d said all day. 

You hurriedly followed Spencer out of the car, recognising the stretch of road to be almost exactly where you’d found him on his back in the dirt a few days ago. 

He was hobbling to the side of the road and as you followed hot on his heels, you could see what he'd made you stop for. 

“That’s her! That’s the horse that frightened Willow! The one that caused me to fall and break my arm!” He faux whispered, pointing in the direction of the large steed as though you wouldn’t be able to see her. 

She was almost as large as Willow with broad shoulders and thick legs. She was chestnut red, her coat practically glowing in the sunlight. Her mane and tail were a golden-blonde and they waved manically behind her as she galloped in circles. 

“Okay…” you frowned at the horse. “So why did we stop?” 

“I…I don’t know.” Spencer turned to you, mirroring your expression. “I’ve never seen a horse like her. I find her fascinating. But I don’t think she likes me very much.” 

As if on cue the beast let out a loud and booming neighing sound before she started trotting closer. Your back went up, shoulders squared as if that would help against any potential onslaught. 

She was looking right at you, large eyes staring into your soul. She slowed her gait as she drew closer and you held your breath to see what she might do. 

What she did so surprised both you and Spencer. She nuzzled her snout into your chest, making little appreciative noises as she did so. You tentatively raised a hand and patted the side of her head. 

“What is happening?” You hissed at Spencer.

“She’s bonding with you. She likes you.” Spencer shrugged. 

“Why?” You continued to pet her. 

“No idea, horses are curious creatures.” Spencer dared to move closer, inch by inch. 

He brought his good hand up to touch her but before he could she reared her head back from you and made a noise of displeasure.

“See, I told you she doesn’t like me!” Spencer grumbled, shrinking back. 

“Lucky you.” You pulled a face as the mare nuzzled into you once more. 

“I think you’ve made a friend.” 

“I don’t want a friend.” You hissed. 

“I think it’s too late for that.” Spencer chuckled at the little happy sounds the horse was making. “Stay here.” 

“What?” You frowned at him as he started heading back towards the car. “Where are you going?” 

“I'm going to go and get some riding equipment, we can take her back to the ranch and check her over. I’m pretty sure she’s wild though, but we can have the vet come out and check if she’s chipped.” He opened the driver’s door. 

“And if she isn’t?” You grumbled, scratching the side of her face. 

“We’ll keep her. I’ve been in the market for another horse.”

“We? There is no we!” You spat but he was already getting into the car. “Should you be driving with your injuries? And when exactly was the last time you were behind a wheel?” 

“It’s only a few miles, I’ll be fine. I can't stay with her, she doesn’t like me.” He shrugged. 

“Yet you’re proposing you keep her? Are you…” the door slammed closed and you rolled your eyes. “Good. Great, he’s gone. And I’m talking to a horse.” 

Behind you the engine roared to life and after a few false starts Spencer pulled away. The rust coloured horse tilted her head and looked at you inquisitively. 

You hated to admit it but she was completely intoxicating. 

***

Some half an hour later, Spencer arrived back with the riding equipment along with a mounting block and your riding boots. 

Of course you were going to have to ride her home. 

Spencer helped you to saddle her up ready but when it came time to mount her you froze up. 

“This seems incredibly dangerous.” You tensed, gripping the reins in your hand whilst standing on the mounting block. “I’ve only ever ridden a horse once in my life. And clearly she’s got an unpredictable temperament. I really don’t want to do this.”

“I cannot mount another horse right now.” Spencer winced at the sheer thought. “After I had to ride down to town to collect you when you were drunk, I am certain I will not be riding for the foreseeable future.” 

Of course you thought it was just because of his knee and he wasn’t readily going to tell you that it was also because of the healing cuts on his thigh. He’d been lucky with your wandering hands last night that you hadn’t come across his bandaged thigh. 

“Oh throw that back in my face why don’t you.” You wrung the reins in your hands. “Spencer I’m fucking scared.” 

“I have every faith in you.” He smiled at you. 

“Really doesn’t help.” You rolled your eyes. “I hope she’s worth it, I hope having another horse is worth my death on your conscience.” 

“Has anyone ever told you that you’re incredibly overdramatic?” Spencer scoffed.

“Says the man that was convinced he was going to be eaten alive by desert critters?” 

“That was a very real possibility. But only one in every ten thousand horse riders die each year in a horse related accident. Around seven hundred and ten a year.” He told you a little smugly. 

“Why do you know that?” You frowned. 

“I know a lot of things.” He shrugged. “Will you get on the horse already? You’ll be fine.” 

“Hmm, we’ll see.” You grumbled, taking a deep breath and edging your left foot in the stirrup. 

You braced yourself, readying yourself to balance your weight on the ball of your foot and swing up over the horse. Lower yourself slowly like Spencer had mentioned after you’d thrown yourself on Franklin. 

Another deep breath and you pulled yourself up, using the reins to hoist your weight. You forced yourself to slowly drop onto the saddle but even still the mare jostled a little. 

“Whoa, whoa!” You wobbled, petting her neck. “It’s okay girl. Are you sure she’s a girl?” 

“Trust me, there’s a huge difference, if you know what I mean.” Spencer clucked.

“I guess the saying ‘hung like a horse’ had to come from somewhere.” You mused, slotting your other foot in the stirrup. 

“I’ll drive alongside you, we’ll take it slow.” Spencer ignored your bad joke. 

You waited for him to climb back in the car and roll down the window before you gave a gentle tug on the reins and the mare started forward. 

Apart from the side of the road being uneven and feeling a few times like you were slipping this way or that, the ride was surprisingly smooth. 

The wild horse obeyed your commands, didn’t trot too fast and seemed appreciative of the occasional pat on her neck. 

Spencer parked your car and walked alongside you towards the stable, giving the flaxen horse a wide berth as she panicked if he came too close. 

“You’re a natural at this.” He smiled up at you. “She’s really taken a liking to you.” 

“I’d be lying if I said the feeling wasn’t mutual.” You leaned forward and rubbed the back of her ear. 

She responded with a happy little huff. 

Spencer felt his heart swelling seeing you atop the great beast. There was something so fascinating about the way you got the unpredictable creature to behave. 

It must be your aura, Spencer had felt it himself. You had a calming presence and clearly he wasn’t the only one receptive to it. 

He opened the stable and motioned you into an empty paddock. He encouraged you to fill a trough of food for her while he called the veterinarian in Bandera. 

You fed and groomed her, making the introductions to Spencer’s three steeds even though they couldn’t understand you. An hour later the vet came to check her out. 

Doctor Watts gave her a once over and deemed her to be healthy and approximately three years old. She scanned the horse for a chip and found none, as Spencer assumed she was wild. 

The vet didn’t stay for long and soon the two of you were alone again with the four horses. 

You were hand feeding her some chunks of fruit and brushing your knuckles through her mane and Spencer watched you intently. You could feel his eyes on the back of your head. 

“Would you stop staring.” You grumbled without looking at him. 

“Sorry, I just think it’s sweet.” He smiled. 

“Sweet?” You glanced at him over your shoulder. 

“A few days ago you hated horses. Look at you now, you’ve got your very own steed.” He beamed. 

“My…mine? She’s not mine, she’s yours?” Your hands stilled and you turned to fully face him. 

“Oh no, I am not the one she’s bonded with.” He chuckled. “That horse right there, is yours Y/N.” 

You felt a pang in your chest and you looked back at the chestnut red beauty with a watery smile. You stroked her face again and she nuzzled into your hand. 

“I guess she is.” You whispered to no one in particular.

“What’s her name?” Spencer took one small step forward, not wanting to agitate your new companion.

You didn’t even hesitate when you answered. 

“Rusty. Her name is Rusty.” 

***

Spencer helped you get all four horses into the enclosed field so they could all begin in welcoming Rusty to the family. Willow was, unsurprisingly, not keen on fraternising with the other mare after their encounter in the desert the other day. 

Franklin seemed to abide her but Wilbur was positively smitten. He wouldn’t leave Rusty’s side and the feeling seemed reciprocated. 

“Uh, Spencer?” You cocked an eyebrow at him as you observed them, leaning against the fence. “I’m slightly concerned Wilbur is being too friendly.” 

“Don’t worry, he and Frank were both castrated before I brought them. He can’t do her any harm.” 

“Ew, sounds painful. Is that a normal thing to do?” You grimaced. 

“It’s no different to neutering a dog or a cat. It helps to eliminate aggression and uncooperative behaviour in male horses. It’s perfectly normal.” He replied with a shrug. “Are you implying Wilbur isn’t good enough for Rusty?” 

“I’m implying that one horse is plenty for me.” 

“So she is your horse?” His lip twitched. 

“Well you’ve made it clear you don’t want her. And I can’t just release her back into the wild.” You huffed. 

“Does that mean you plan to stick around for a while?” He asked tentatively. 

“While this place does have its perks,” you mused, pushing yourself away from the fence. “Something has to give. I can’t keep…doing whatever it is we’re doing and then having to walk on eggshells. You either want to just be friends or you want more than that.” 

You hadn’t meant to say that out loud despite the fact you’d been thinking about it all day. Judging on Spencer’s expression he hadn’t expected you to say that either. 

“I, uh,” he scratched his head, looking out across the field. “I like you, Y/N, I really do. And I do like the idea of being more than just your friend. But I don’t…I can’t…I am not ready for an intimate relationship and I don’t know if I ever will be.” 

“Will you ever tell me what happened to you?” You sidled a little closer to him. 

“Honestly? Probably not. But if it’s any consolation, I’ve never told anyone, baring my therapist.” He sighed. 

“What about Luke?” You questioned, seeing the way Spencer tensed at the mention of his name. 

“Nope, not even Luke. Which is partly why our relationship fell apart.”

“How am I supposed to stay here when I know barely anything about you?” You were chewing the inside of your cheek. 

“You know more about me than I do about you.” He countered. 

“Fine,” you shrugged. “What do you wanna know?” 

“What were you running from?” He was quick to ask. 

He watched your jaw tighten and you turned away from him to look back at Rusty who was still sniffing around Wilbur. 

“That’s not important.” 

“It is to me. I told you about my ex, you know about my dissociative disorder.” 

“And you know about my step dad.” 

“That doesn’t make us even.” He scoffed. “Are you in some kind of trouble?” 

Your back straightened and you folded your arms around your body, hugging your sides. 

“Why would you think that?” You kept your eyes trained on Rusty. 

“Deflection. Answering a question with a question. You are in trouble.” He watched you for more signs. 

“Seriously, what did you do for work?” You turned back to him suddenly, eyes narrowed in questioning. “You sound like…no. No, surely not.” 

“What?” His eyebrows pinched together. 

“You’re talking like a cop. But I can’t see it. You don’t seem like the type.” You scrutinised him. 

“I can categorically tell you I wasn’t a cop.” He folded his arms across his chest. “Stop changing the subject. What kind of trouble are you in?”

“I don’t wanna talk about this.” You shook your head and started over toward Rusty. Spencer followed you. 

“Because I’m right, you’re running because you’re in trouble.” He limped after you. 

“Look, Spencer,” you spun back to him, eyes wild. “If you don’t have to talk about why you don’t want to fuck me, then I don’t have to talk about this.” 

Your words caused him to stop in his tracks, your tone angrier than he’d heard you before. He didn’t speak so you continued. 

“You and I both know last night you came in your pants. But you said you didn’t want to talk about it and I respected that. Show me the same courtesy.” You turned again, taking a few more steps towards your new companion. 

Spencer ground his teeth together furiously, watching you walk away. He clenched and unclenched one hand at his side. 

“It was the first time I’ve come in almost four years.” He spat out, unsure why he was revealing this piece of information.

When you looked back at him, his face was beet red as were his ears. 

“Excuse me?” You didn’t move any closer to him. 

“I told you I have intimacy issues.” He huffed. “Well that extends to…self stimulation.” He turned even redder. “So yeah, that’s the first time in nearly four years. Maybe three and a half. Closer to four.” 

“Jesus.” You shook your head. “You really are fucked up, aren’t you?” 

Spencer let out a dry chuckle. 

“Very much so.” He nodded in agreement. 

“I guess you’re welcome for last night.” You winked at him and his blush, which had started to creep away, appeared again. 

“You gotta stop that.” 

“Stop what?” 

“Flirting with me.” 

“Why would I do that?” 

“Because I might just do something really stupid.” 

You swallowed as the look in his eye grew serious. You took a few hesitant steps towards him. 

“Stupid by who’s definition?” You got closer and Spencer was also moving nearer you. 

“I'm not joking when I say I’m not ready for anything intimate, Y/N. I don’t want to lead you on.” He still stepped closer. 

“And I don’t want to be let down.” You agreed. 

“Trust me when I say I am the king of letting people down.” He sighed wistfully. 

“So, uh,” you reached each other, just a foot between you. “Friends, then?” 

“Friends.” He smiled a little sadly at you. 

“Okay, friend. How about we do something fun?” 

“Fun?” He frowned. 

“Come on, even in the middle of butt fuck nowhere there must be something fun to do.” 

“Bored of your new companion already?” Spencer chuckled. 

“Bite your tongue!” You gasped. “I will never be bored of her. And I didn’t necessarily mean right now. How about tonight, we go out and get, like, absolutely wasted.” 

“I, uh, I don’t drink.” He shrugged, voice meek. 

“Ever?” You sounded incredulous. 

“Not for a long time.” He scratched at the back of his neck. 

“Well no wonder you’re so uptight.” You rolled your eyes. “A few drinks would probably loosen you up.” 

Spencer’s vision faded in and out in quick succession. He rubbed his temple with his fingertips, swallowing around his dry tongue. 

There had come a point, long after his addiction that he’d made the decision to quit drinking. After Maeve’s death he’d used alcohol as a way to cope with the overwhelming emotions. 

But after a while the alcohol wasn’t enough and he’d found himself considering something stronger, something much less legal. 

He almost relapsed. And if he had he knew he’d never have been able to stop. He was already drinking far more than he ever had and had grown a tolerance to it, he knew something had to give. 

So before he could let himself fall further down a rabbit hole, he quit drinking and hadn’t touched a single drop since. 

“It, uh, affects my medication.” He lied. 

“Oh,” you softened. “Right, of course. Sorry.” 

“It’s okay.” He shook his head. “If you want to go drinking, then don’t let me stop you.”

“You think I’m going to have as much fun drinking on my own?” You cocked an eyebrow at him.

“Seemed to enjoy yourself the other night.” He shrugged. “If you really want I will come with you, but I am not drinking. I can be your designated driver.” 

“Hmm,” you mused. “Certainly more fun than drinking alone but less fun than having a drinking partner.” 

“It’s the best I can do.” 

“Fine, let's do it.” You agreed, turning back towards Rusty. “You know the guys are all super curious about you down at 11th Street.” 

You started towards your mare who was still being sniffed around by Wilbur. Spencer fell into step with you despite his limp.

“Curious? Why?” He frowned.

“Because you’ve never been into their bar, never spoken to them. You’ve lived here two years and never tried to assimilate with the locals?” You reached Rusty and she turned her attention to you, wary eyes casting over Spencer.

“I moved out here so as not to have to assimilate with anyone.” He kept a keen eye on Rusty, not appreciating the way she looked at him and didn’t get too close to her. 

“They think you’re rude.” You petted the large mare’s head. 

“What are you like best friends with them now?” Spencer scoffed. 

“I’m just saying, it really wouldn’t hurt for you to make a little effort with them. They’re nice people, who knows you might even make more friends.” Your tone was teasing when you spoke the last word. 

“I have plenty of friends.”

“Back in DC?” You scoffed. “When was the last time you saw any of them?”

Spencer’s eyebrows pinched together as he led Wilbur a little further away from Rusty, his chest tightening. He wasn’t exactly ashamed of being a hermit, but when you said these things it made him feel incredibly lonely out of nowhere. 

“It’s been…a while.” He spoke under his breath. 

“Would it really kill you to just try and make a friend? I might not be able to hang around here forever and if I have to leave I’d like to know you’re not gonna be alone for the rest of your life. If you died out here, it would be weeks, maybe even months before anyone ever knew.” You run your fingers through Rusty’s mane, a wry smile on your lips. 

Spencer pulled a face, shaking his head at your candour. 

“Wow, thanks for that. Really driving your point home.” He grumbled. 

“I'm just saying,” you chuckled. “If, for whatever reason, I did have to leave, I’d hate to think of you all alone out here.” 

“I wouldn’t be alone. I have three horses and cattle. Four if, hypothetically, you left and didn’t take Rusty with you. I’ll be fine. Let’s get them back to the stable and feed them, I’m worried Rusty is considering eating me.” He scowled.

“See, just another reason I don’t want you to be out here alone. Believe me when I say she would eat you.” You teased, a bright smile on your face. 

It didn’t last long though before you frowned and were clicking your jaw, fingers coming up to your face to massage the muscles. 

“You okay?” Spencer stared at you. 

“Hmm.” You nodded, fingers kneading the side of your jaw. “Old injury. It plays up sometimes.” 

He didn’t question it but he continued to observe you while you put on a brave face, turned back to Rusty and effectively shut any further conversation down. 

***

After hanging up the phone and printing the contents of the email, Luke Alvez compiled a case file and flicked through the pages. He leaned forward on the desk on his elbows, fingers laced together, chin rested on them while he stared at the printouts. 

He hadn’t been concerned when Phil called, the two spoke at least once a week and met for dog walks with Roxy and Lou as often as they could. Probably more often in the two years since Spencer up and left, clearly Phil didn’t think he was coping. Maybe he wasn’t.

In truth, Luke still thought about his ex every day. Perhaps that was due to the fact his desk still remained empty in the bullpen, Emily never having replaced him. Possibly it was because he still held onto some of Spencer’s things he’d left in his apartment; a few books, a pair of mismatched socks, a tie, even his old CalTech sweater which Luke still wore around his home more often than he liked to admit. 

Phil was probably right for checking in on him frequently, even after two years Luke was still grieving that relationship. 

Spencer had been the only person Luke had ever dated that he’d seen a future with. He’d known early on that he wanted to spend his life with the dorky, awkward doctor. And maybe they would have, if it wasn’t for Cat Adams and Spencer’s stint in Milburn. 

Luke had seen Spencer’s medical records from repeated trips to the infirmary, although Spencer wasn’t aware of this. He also hadn’t let anyone else on the team see them to protect Spencer’s already fragile psyche.

On three occasions he was reported to have palatal petechiae, bruising and lesions, and even burst blood vessels near the back of the roof of his mouth. The soreness he experienced meant he wasn’t eating much as solid food probably aggravated his mouth. 

It was something Luke and the team had seen before and he knew the most likely cause of these injuries was from extremely rough oral sex. It was indicative of sexual assault, but not entirely probative.

Of course he never asked Spencer outright, knowing his boyfriend well enough to know that he would shut down if asked such a question. He’d tried getting him to open up, especially after almost a year passed and Spencer still panicked every time things grew heated between them. 

And when Spencer had grown violent, Luke knew at that moment that the two of them would never come back from this. With Spencer’s hands twisting and pinning his arm behind his back, he knew they were over.

He’d told Spencer he couldn’t do this anymore, that he didn’t know who Spencer was anymore. He still loved him, he probably always would, but unless Spencer sought some real help, Luke had to walk away. 

A few weeks later the team had been called into the roundtable room for what they thought was another case. Luke had frowned at Spencer’s empty desk, wondering where he was and why they weren’t waiting for him.

He’d known something was amiss when Penelope took a seat with them and didn’t stand at the front to present the case. Emily and Rossi stood, their features unreadable.

“What’s going on?” Tara was the one to ask, brows pinched. 

“Shouldn’t we wait for Spence?” JJ voiced Luke’s thoughts. 

Emily and Rossi exchanged a look, Emily puffed out a breath and Rossi offered her a small nod of his head to encourage her. 

Luke felt his stomach coiling. His heart was thrumming violently in his chest. The last time Emily had called them all together like this without Spencer, it was to tell them of his arrest.

He braced himself against the table, waiting for the blow. Something had happened, something had happened to Spencer. 

“A week ago Reid came to me,” Emily began, her voice fighting back the sadness. “After Benjamin Merva, he, uh, he no longer felt that he was an effective member of this team. He made the decision for himself to leave the BAU.” 

“What? That’s crazy talk!” Garcia shook her head frantically. “We talked about this when they were holding us! We said the team needed both of us!” 

“He’s been through a lot, Garcia.” Rossi spoke with a hint of melancholy. “More than anyone should ever have to go through. He was still dealing with his incarceration, and then this? It’s too much for one person.” 

“But why isn’t he here? He didn’t say goodbye?” Penelope whined, tears filling her large eyes. 

Luke couldn’t speak, could barely breathe. His vision was obscured, maybe by tears he wasn’t sure. The voices around him grew more and more distant, as though he and the team were getting further apart. 

His brain was coated in a thick cloud, inhibiting his thoughts. Dizzy, he suddenly felt so dizzy. His hands held the edge of the table in a white knuckle grip. 

“He’s probably halfway to Texas by now.” Emily brought her hand to her lips and started chewing on one of her nails. 

“Texas?” Matt spat out the word as though it were alien to him. “What the hell is he going to Texas for?” 

Again Emily and Rossi exchanged a glance. Truthfully they didn’t have all the answers, as was his way, Spencer hadn’t told them all the details. 

“I’m not entirely sure. He said he needed to get away, sold his apartment and he was going to Texas. That’s all I know.” Emily continued her chewing. 

“Newbie?” Garcia turned to Luke, a few tears trickling down from beneath her glasses. Luke didn’t move. “Alvez?” She clicked her fingers at him. 

He still didn’t move. 

“Luke, man, you okay?” Matt’s hand was on his shoulder, Luke’s vision petered in and out. 

“You must have known about this?” Tara’s eyes were on him now too. 

“I…I…we broke up.” He confessed. “A few weeks ago.” 

A collective gasp sounded out in the room but it still sounded so distant to his ears. Matt’s grip on his shoulder tightened but Luke barely registered it. 

“Why didn’t you say anything? Why didn’t he say anything?” JJ whimpered. 

Luke blinked several times to try and clear the fog hindering his vision. He tried to focus on just one thing, one single thing. 

Emily. 

As the fog started to clear the image of his Unit Chief gnawing on her nail came into view and she was looking right at him. 

Everyone else in the room disappeared. For a moment or two it was just him and Emily. 

He cleared his throat, sucked in a breath. 

“He’s…he’s really gone?” His voice trembled.

“He’s really gone.” Emily nodded stiffly. “I'm so sorry Luke.” 

Even two years after the fact Luke could still feel everything he’d felt that day, the crumbling weight of losing the only person he’d ever really loved. In reality, he probably lost Spencer the moment he was arrested, but this had felt so final. 

Since Spencer’s departure, things hadn’t been the same and the team was still adjusting to a series of changes which happened in the wake of him leaving.

Less than a year later, Penelope made the decision to leave the BAU stating she no longer understood how any of this worked. Matt had been sequestered for special assignment, Emily had been promoted to Section Chief and Rossi now held the post as BAU Unit Chief. 

Since the pandemic the team had operated differently. On any given day it was mostly only Luke in the office. Rossi was still struggling in the aftermath of Krystall’s death and he, Tara and JJ mostly consulted on cases alone as they were short on the ground.

That was until the discovery of the network of serial killers who had been operating online during the pandemic, now clawing out of the shadows to become fully operational once the world was no longer on lockdown. 

Garcia was back in a temporary capacity and Emily was devoting more time to her old team. The six members were working tirelessly to bring this operation down. And then he’d received the phone call from Phil and had an extra weight added to his already overloaded plate. 

He couldn’t catch a break. 

He was lost in the file and didn’t hear her heels clicking on the floor as they approached and it was only when she perched on the edge of his desk that he noticed her arrival. 

“Rumour has it you spoke to our elusive cowboy?” Penelope clutched her unicorn mug between her hands, steam rising from the top. 

“Word travels fast around here.” He sighed, sitting back in his chair. 

“I like to be kept apprised of all communication with our fallen comrade. I'm so worried about him. You know he spoke to Morgan too? Yet he won’t answer my calls. Not for weeks! You, I get, but Morgan? They haven’t seen each other since he was released from prison.” She spoke fast, words blurring together. 

Over the years Luke had gotten fluent in Penelope Garcia. 

“I wouldn’t get your hopes up, it wasn’t exactly a pleasant call.” Luke swallowed. “We argued, no surprise. But it was good to finally hear his voice again.” 

“How did he sound?” She brought her mug to her lips and sipped the liquid, Luke could only assume it was some variety of flavoured tea judging by the vague scent of berries he detected. 

“Tired.” He shrugged. “Frustrated. I don’t know.” 

“You know him better than anyone.” She exhaled.

“Do I?” Luke scoffed. 

“You dated for two years.” She shrugged.

“And three months of that he was in prison. And then for almost a year after he could barely look at me let alone talk to me.” He spat, harsher than he meant to, Penelope pouted and he quickly steeled himself. “I’m sorry. I’ve got a lot on my mind.”

Penelope took another sip of tea as her eyes glanced over the open file on his desk. There was a mugshot of a woman in the top left corner and what looked to be the kind of information she would unearth in a deep dive. 

“You working on your own cases now? You haven’t got enough to do around here?” She nodded her head at the file.

Luke followed her gaze despite knowing what she was looking at. He ran his fingers over the sheet of paper in an absent mind. 

“Uh, it's an old case from back when I worked with the Fugitive Task Force.” He sighed, seeing no reason to lie to Garcia.

“Do tell.” She made herself more comfortable on his desk. 

“A few years back she was arrested for shooting a guy to death. Claimed self defence, which I might have brought if she hadn’t shot him twelve times. She killed him and then reloaded her gun so she could keep shooting him.” He grimaced at the thought. He’d seen the crime scene photos, the guy looked like swiss cheese.

“Jeez,” Garcia pulled a face similar to Luke’s. “How’d she end up on your radar?” 

“She was a classic femme fatale. Pretty, young, played the innocent victim well. She worked the courtroom, I’ve seen the footage. She had the jury eating out of the palm of her hand. She got a reduced sentence, murder down to 2nd degree manslaughter. She was sentenced to seven years. Seven fucking years, can you believe it?” He baulked, incredulous. 

“I can only assume if the FTF was called in, she did not even serve those seven years?” Penelope asked softly. 

“Like I say, she was a femme fatale. Manipulative, overtly sexual. Men were puppets to her.” Luke raked his fingers through his hair. “Upon transfer to her facility after trial she worked her magic on the poor, naive guard. Fluttered her eyelashes, pouted her lips, that kinda thing. The poor guy dropped his defences and she managed to escape. That’s where Phil and I came in.

“We chased her for months, eventually I got the call from the BAU and my services were needed elsewhere. ‘Bout a year ago they caught up with her and she was finally held accountable for her actions. And then just now, I got a call from Phil.” 

Garcia wasn’t a profiler but she’d spent enough time around them to understand what Luke wasn’t saying and piece together the rest.

“She escaped?” Penelope exhaled.

“Yeah, a few weeks ago. There was a mass prison break at her facility much the same as the one at Scratch’s facility. She was one of ten women who escaped and now Phil wants my help capturing her.” Luke shook his head. “Which is obviously the last thing I need right now with everything else going on with the network.” 

Garcia placed her mug down on the desk and leaned forward, picking up the top sheet of paper and scanning through the information. 

“Abuse victim, father passed when she was young.” She mused out loud as she continued reading. “Precursors for violent crimes unfortunately. Who was this guy, Leon Sayers, the man she killed? Was he a random victim or…” 

She looked up from the paper and at Luke who was shaking his head.

“Sayers was her abuser. Her stepfather. At her trial she insisted Sayers killed her mom but it couldn’t be proven. I think it was all BS, I think it was all part of a ruse to make the jury feel sorry for her.” 

“You don’t think she was abused?” Penelope snatched up another sheet of paper and scanned. “I mean there were a lot of hospital visits in her youth, all chalked up to her being clumsy but…is anyone this clumsy? Jeez this one says at fourteen years old she was admitted with a broken jaw! She had to have surgery and her jaw wired shut for eight weeks!” 

“I don’t doubt she was heavily abused but she skipped town at sixteen, and hadn't surfaced until her mom’s death. She could have stayed away but she sought Sayers out. Doesn’t that seem like premeditation to you?” Luke scoffed. 

“Alvez,” she put the paper down. “I'm not condoning what this girl did but after my parents were killed by that drunk driver, it crossed my mind that I might like to take my own form of revenge. That kind of grief makes us go to incredibly dark places. And if he’d abused her before, it’s not to say she didn’t get into an altercation with him, it might have been self defence. Admittedly the overkill was a bit much, but it said she did have bruising indicative of defensive wounds at the time of her arrest, bruises in the shape of fingers on her neck! He tried to strangle her, Alvez.”

“You say you aren’t condoning what she did, but it sure as hell sounds like it.” Luke spat, pushing himself to his feet and slamming the file shut. 

“Newbie, calm down.” Penelope stood too, putting a placating hand on his arm. “All I’m saying is that not everything is black and white.”

“Seems pretty black and white to me.” He growled. “Murder is murder, Garcia.” 

“Except when it’s manslaughter.” She clucked. 

Luke looked ready to blow his lid. If he were a cartoon he would have had smoke coming out of his ears. His jaw tightened and Garcia watched the way the muscle pulsed, in perfect time with the throbbing of the vein in his neck. 

“Are you kidding me? You’ve been out of the FBI long enough now that your sense of justice has been warped?” He raised his voice, spittal flying from his lips. “I can’t believe what I’m hearing! Do you actually…do you seriously think-”

“Alvez,” a stern voice cut across the bullpen and Luke turned away from Penelope towards the sound. Emily stood up the top of the stairs, eyes dark and brow pinched. “Another container has been found. We’re meeting the others at the airstrip.” 

Luke puffed out a breath, sucked another one in. He let his jaw relax and tried to quell his anger. 

“Where we heading now?” He ignored Penelope still in his peripheral vision. 

“Texas.” Was all she said before disappearing back inside her old office. 

@kalulakunundrum @small-and-violent @voledart @katrina0-0 @bakugouswh0r3 @prettyboyandthefangirl @zooni92802 @marvellover1819

[bloop-im-a-frog-now]

A Perfect Guide On How To Tame A Horse by Skizzleman

The first thing Skizz ever wanted to do on the Hermitcraft Server was taming a horse.

“Time to find a horse!” Skizz exclaimed to himself. 

That was supposed to be the easy part. The very long, but easy part. Except, it seemed all the wild horses were gone. 

“Where are the little fellas?” He asked himself. “I just wanna ride a horse!”

He had the perfect name in mind as well. He just needed a beauty, take it to his base and parade around the server with it. To show he was a true horse tamer. 

Maybe he should’ve gone to Bdubs, like Impulse suggested. 

No, he wanted to do this on his own, like the big boy he was. He scoured the lands, to find a horse, any horse, even if it was the slowest horse on the Server. Though, Zedaph still held that record, so, it wouldn’t be the slowest, but his point was still being made!

He’d do anything to get a horse right now. 

He passed a pasture, who looked exactly like the previous one he had passed. Skizz was starting to question his sanity, but most importantly, his sense of direction. Was he running around in circles the entire time?

That was when his muse appeared. A beautiful black stallion ate some green grass as it minded its own business, and Skizz immediately knew he had to tame this horse.

He gently approached it, with wheat in his hand as he called it over.

“Here horsie, come eat that good old sweet wheat.”

He clicked his tongue against the roof of his mouth, and the stallion slowly walked towards him, sniffing the wheat in Skizz’s hand.

That was when he hoped the wheat wasn’t too old for the horse’s tastes. He’d hate to give expired wheat to such a handsome horse.

The black stallion started eating the wheat in Skizz’s hand, and the scarred man couldn’t help but smile. He petted the horse’s black mane. 

“Such a good horsie for good ol’ Skizzlie.”

The animal sniffled at the commentary, and continued to eat the wheat. When it was done, Skizz patted its neck and slowly came to its side to place a saddle on its back.

“There, there,” he petted the black, glistering coat. “Don’t move an inch,” he poked his tongue out of his mouth in concentration as he slowly placed the saddle on the horse’s back, “that’s it, just a bit more —”

The horse snorted and moved forward, making Skizz trip and fall face first on the ground. He grunted. 

“Oh, c’mon now! I was so close!”

He skipped to the stallion once again, and this time did not hesitate. He placed the saddle on its back, but before he could attach the straps, the horse neighed and trotted away from Skizz once again.

The scarred man groaned and hit his forehead.

“Stupid jerk! I just want a horse!”

He launched himself to the saddle, grabbing the two straps that needed to be buckled against the stallion’s stomach, and almost received a hoof in the face for his trouble.

“Hey! Jerk face! Watch it!”

The horse whined and trotted in the pasture as Skizz struggled to buckle the straps. He was a bit busy with not hitting his head against the hooves or the rocks or the flowers in the way.

“Just stop! Moving!”

He managed to buckle the main strap until the horse galloped. Skizz grunted at the change of speed, but continued fiddling with the straps. He was determined to keep the saddle safe and secure onto the horse, even if it killed him. 

Skizz buckled the smallest straps just before hitting his head on a rock he did not see. He let go and yelped in pain, putting his hands over his head as the pounding echoed in his mind. The stallion simply snorted and continued eating the green grass. 

That horse was almost the death of him. 

He groaned in pain. “Stupid horse and horse power.”

He raised his head from the ground and squinted at his target. The innocent jerk was still eating the green grass, but at least it had a saddle on its back. If Skizz just made a run for it and jumped on the saddle, he would start taming the horse.

And that’s exactly what he did.

He let out a warrior cry as he ran towards the stallion. It, on the other hand, neighed in terror, and just as it was about to gallop away from the running human, Skizz managed to jump on its back.

“Hiya!”

The horse neighed once more, and tried to get Skizz off of its back.

“Oh no, you stupid horse. You can’t get rid of me that easily.”

Skizz held onto its mane as it kicked its rear legs outwards, shook itself, and jumped across the pasture. He was struggling to hold onto the stallion, as he was shaken from side to side, jumping onto the horse’s back every time it made a sudden gesture. 

Eventually, the horse tired itself to the bone, and Skizz yelped in victory.

“Yeah baby! I did it!”

The horse on its side, dragging Skizz with it. The newest Hermit yelped in surprise, and didn’t hold on to the horse as his feet slipped from the stirrup. The stallion swiftly got up and left Skizz in the pasture, trotting away and beyond the mountains.

Skizz groaned.

“Stupid horse with his stupid jerk face and his stupid — stupidity!”

Then, something munched his hair as if it was wheat, and Skizz turned around hastily, sword in hand in case it was a hostile mob. 

But it was just another horse, with a dark matted mane, unperturbed by Skizz’s movements, and continued eating his hair. Skizz laughed.

“Hey there, other horsie,” Skizz laughed again as the horse’s tongue licked his forehead. “Hey! That tickles!”

The animal didn’t seem to care about Skizz’s protest, even when he stood on his feet, it continued eating his hair, following him around.

“Ack! Alright, alright, I get it!” Skizz shooed the horse away, only for it to stay by his side. He smiled. “Aw, you’re lonely. I don’t have a saddle for you, buddy, the other jerk took it away.”

The horse simply stared at Skizz, nudging its head against Skizz’s shoulder. Skizz chuckled.

“Alright! I get it! Jeez.”

He climbed on top of the horse, and it didn’t move. Not until Skizz clicked his tongue and nudged the heels of his feet against the horse. 

“Oh huh. A real Gluestick, aren’t you?”

The horse trotted towards Magic Mountain, where Skizz base was, and listened to every order Skizz gave it.

“You must’ve really had pity on me struggling with that other stupid, huh? Wait!” Skizz patted the horse’s mane with a wide grin. “Gluestick! That’s your name now!”

Gluestick neighed and continued its trot.

“Yeah, me too, Gluestick. Me too.”

[quillofspirit]

POTC characters if they had horses

This is now officially a series! Though the next installment is not yet scheduled, inspiration will most likely strike one night, like lightning to a lone tree. Unfortunately, some pictures are not the specific horse, though they do all resemble the idea behind the choice.

Do excuse the various lengths, I had more ideas for some than others. And my skills at moodboards, I am but a youngling in the skill.

I would love to hear your thoughts or questions! either about this or other characters, and other fandoms 😊

Elizabeth Swann

A chocolate Hackney stallion, mostly sweet though also the type to feign coming when called before running away. It was an active young thing that was a gift initially meant for Governor Swann. Elizabeth fell in love with the horse when it almost got away from its holder, at first presentation. Her father was nervous about her having such an energetic animal be responsible for his daughter’s safety, though he quickly realised the love was reciprocated. Its character only part of the reason why she loved that horse, most of it being the freedom it offered. The first time she let it go at a full gallop is the moment she fell in love with the speed, and the muscles beneath her, tensing and relaxing with each stride. She would rarely confess to loving that horse more every time it resisted orders, snorting and pawing in disagreement when they tried to control it by the reigns. She named it Neptune, though she often referred to him as her First Mate.

Governor Swann

A dark bay Hackney gelding, a sweet sweet thing. The type to nudge you for affection, and have enough confidence in its rider to make them a better rider. The Hackney was, and still is, a sought-after breed, known for its trot, as well as its docile and friendly composure. Although the Governor is a skilled rider, having been instructed in all matters of high English society, he still preferred the convenience of a carriage, than riding on a horse. Over time, he found himself growing to love going on rides with Ambassador, but even more when he accompanied Elizabeth on rides. (Though he only ever went in full gallop to hear her laugh from happiness).

Will Turner

A molly mule, though very pretty, he called Hellebore. Named in honour of Rosie, Will initially got the mule with a forge he bought when Elizabeth and him could settle. The last owner left it with the deed, saying he “didn’t know the last time he’d find the thing useful.” Hellebore however, was quick to warm to Will’s soft voice and gentle pats. Mules are known to be smart, social and affectionate. They also tend to be very protective, so the fool who tried to steal from Will’s workshop got a big surprise when Hellebore bit him and trapped him in a corner. The commotion and braying got Will’s attention quickly, and when he arrived, he found the robber trembling in fear. After that, Hellebore became a loyal companion, often nudging Will for more affection, regardless of his half-hearted attempts to push it away while he worked.

Jack Sparrow

A dark bay Spanish Mustang mare. It was left behind by a Spanish general, and Jack stumbled upon it when hiding running from the law. He didn’t know how to approach such a creature, but he found he didn’t have to. It followed him around, until he relented and took care of it. The next night, it came to his rescue when a man Jack owed money to cornered him in an alley. It came charging at the man, snorting and pawing at the ground. When the man attempted to side step, it gave out a big neigh before pushing the man aside. Jack had no other choice than to be grateful, and he named it Maelstrom for it temper. Spanish Mustang are known for their intelligence, their curiosity and their sense of self-preservation. Skills that are most useful when in proximity to Jack Sparrow.

Hector Barbossa

A black Irish Draught mare, intimidating but loyal to a fault. will kick at anyone that tries to steal from the many bags it often holds can often be find stealing apples. Generally easy-going, they need a firm hand to push them to use their athletic abilities, but they are known to be surprisingly agile. Barbossa named her Themis, after the Greek goddess of Justice and Wisdom.

Joshamee Gibbs

A New Forest mare, named Scallywag. It is intelligent, good-natured and sure-footed, and it stumbled upon a drunk Gibbs one night. It jumped over Gibbs, and the first thing he saw upon waking up was the very close, soft nose of a pony sniffing him. He startled, and the pony snorted in his face. At first, Gibbs tried to shoo it away, but the horse was persistent, pushing its fuzzy nose into his hair, and he would have found the gesture endearing, if it did not grab his hat and run away with it. He looked for the horse for a few days, before he found it, moving its head all around and slapping the hat on nearby bushes. In the end, he did find it endearing.

James Norrington

A stunning silver Turkoman stallion. As a military man, James needs to trust his horse. Turkoman horses, now mostly extinct, are renowned for their stable feet, robust body and stamina. They are intelligent, and often form a very strong bond with their owners. James Norrington would be the kind of man to want a reliable horse, willing to wait months for one to be imported. The first few months together, James had to calm it a few times, before it knew it could trust. More often than not, talking to it and pressing a firm hand to its neck sufficed to calm the horse. Now, he's the type of horse to finish a race alone, and win. It has proven itself time and time again, often the calmest amongst the cavalry. He took a few weeks before deciding on a name, finally settling for Aquila.

Cutler Beckett

A white Thoroughbred stallion, it looks bigger than it really is, though with Beckett's stature it's no wonder. Generally, thoroughbreds are known to be strong and have good stamina, but tend to have nervous and stubborn spirits. Riding a thoroughbred requires a firm but knowledgeable hand, and is often the measure of a excellent rider. Lord Beckett called it Triumphant Venture.

BONUS

Davy Jones

If he had another creature at his command, but horse-inspired, it would be a kelpie. HOWEVER! I do think it would have a few lights in its mane, like an anglerfish. It would look like tiny fireflies stuck in seaweed, and might just be enough to attract curious sailors. The kelpie would generally consume all souls, but would bring some back to Davy Jones. I didn't do a moodboard for this one because it gave me nightmares!

These are my dividers, please do not use them.

[swanimagines]

LOSING BUT WINNING | PIN HAWTHORNE

Summary: Imagine falling off a horse while competing and hurting yourself, and Pin helping you.

"And now, our final competitor number seven for our second race today, from Bright Fields stables," the announcer bellowed as you rode to the field and you tried to swallow your nervousness. You were a good rider - the best bet against Pin, as Mia had said it.

Pin. Pin rode for Holloway now and Mia expected everyone at Bright Fields to hate him for that, basically saying you're betraying the team if you don't. You had to beat him. You had to be better than him. Especially after Zoe fell off Raven and was disqualified with the last section of the competition. But at least she hadn't had her crush racing beside her.

You took a shaky breath and squeezed Pixie into a walk. The rest of the competitors were trotting down the track, you in the middle. You had to beat them all. You had to win. If you didn't, you felt like Mia would pretty much kill you as the whole team would have been disqualified and then the stables would likely be bulldozed with all its debts.

Pixie seemed to pick up on your nerves and began to snort and tossing her head.

"You've got this, Pixie," you muttered and patted her neck, trying to calm the horse. You took another deep breath, trying to focus, to remember the training you had done during the past weeks as you settled on your spot beside everyone else.

It would be just a little country race riding. You had done the course dozens of times. You knew how to do this.

You could win this. You could be the star of the Bright Fields team, you would outdo yourself.

"Ready, set, go!" the announcer's voice shouted through the field.

You nudged Pixie and the horse launched into gallop. You kept your eyes on the course, feeling like flying over the obstacles. Trees were just blur at the sides of your eyes and your heart was racing from the adrenaline. Pixie's mane was flying around her head, and the horse's hooves pounded the dirt of the course.

You felt like a hero from some fairytale as you raced there and barely hearing others behind you. You would win this, you would outdo yourself.

The course had you crossing through the forest and came to a small creek. Pixie jumped over the log obstacle, and then jumped the next jump, the one after that, and just when you were guiding her to steer right, she neighed and on the next moment, you were sent flying off the back of the horse.

"Ahh!" You cried out as you landed on the mud pond by the creek.

Pixie fell down and neighed some more, and you tried to get up. Your chest and legs hurt and your face felt wet from the mud. You tried to stand but it hurt. You wanted to get up, to check on Pixie, but you just couldn't. You saw Pixie lying there, trying to get up, but she was in the same shape that you were in - she couldn't get up either and her neighing soon turned into quiet whimpers.

You heard the horses galloping towards you and looked up to see Pin, who immediately stopped Elvis upon seeing you and dismounting him.

"Are you alright?" He asked you, his eyes roaming over you in concern.

You groaned. "No... I think I broke something."

"Here." Pin hooked his arm over your waist. "I'll carry you."

"I can walk..." You tried to get up, but you almost screamed when the pain shot through again.

"Looks like it," he chuckled, lifting you with his arm around your waist.

Other competitors came by you too, looking at Pixie lying on the ground and you in Pin's arms.

"Are they ok?" One of them asked and Pin shook his head.

"Call the medical team, Pixie needs help," he told them and nodded towards you. "I'll take my them back and check on them," he told them and then turned to you. "Come on."

You didn't protest and just let him take you. You were grateful for his help and he seemed to understand you were in pain. He helped you mount Elvis and soon you were riding back double, him sitting behind you, ensuring you wouldn't fall off.

"And we have a winner! It's Pin Hawthorne from-"

The announcer cut off her speech as she saw you slightly slumped forward in front of Pin, covered in mud, looking like you're going to pass out soon, and on the next moment, a medical team was rushing up towards you and helping you down Elvis. You were lowered down on the stretcher and carried away, your mind not really working at that point anymore.

---

You woke up in a hospital, in a private room with Pin sleeping on an armchair beside you. You groaned as your headache came back, and Pin immediately woke up and he blinked at your for a second or two before taking a light hold of your hand.

"Hey, it's alright. You're in the hospital, you had an accident," he said softly, rubbing your fingers with his thumb.

"Where's Pixie?" You asked, your mind immediately going through the worst scenario.

"She's in the stables. She's getting treatment too." Pin explained quickly. "She'll be alright, she's young and strong."

You nodded. "Thanks..."

"They almost didn't let me come here," he muttered. "So I lied about being your boyfriend."

Your cheeks immediately heated up from that, but you smiled at him bashfully. "Oh... that's nice of you."

He smiled slightly at you again, before squeezing your hand slightly. "I'll be here with you for as long as you want. Do you want anything from the cafeteria?"

You shivered slightly at his touch and looked at him. "You'll... you can stay here with me?"

He nodded. "You're one of my best friends, of course I'll stay here with you."

You couldn't help but smile widely again and you were sure your heartbeat gave away your true feelings for the boy. "Thank you. And uh... a hot cocoa would be nice. With marshmallows and whipped cream."

"Of course," he chuckled and left the room, leaving you wanting to squeal at yourself for having Pin staying with you. And maybe it was hopeful thinking, but you were sure you saw a blush tinting his cheeks too when he admitted about lying about being your boyfriend just so he'd get to be with you... which could tell about him returning your feelings. Maybe.

In any case, losing the race and hurting yourself wasn't so bad after all.

---

"What do you mean we can't see them?" Becky frowned at the nurse. The nurse sighed and took off her glasses, meeting Becky's eyes.

"I already told you, it's against the rules, miss," she explained, looking at Becky like she's bored of explaining it. "Only family and partners can meet them, but I'm sure they're fine. They have their boyfriend with them."

Becky let out a whine, missing Jade frowning. "But—"

The nurse held up her hand, her face showing that she's had enough of Becky's whining. "As I said, their boyfriend is with them, and that's enough."

"I don't care if they have a boyfriend with them, I'm not letting you keep us from seeing them!" Becky tried to argue, but then Jade touched her friend's shoulder.

"Becky, since when have they had a boyfriend?" She muttered, and suddenly Becky's eyes showed a realisation too.

"Oh," she mumbled and then turned back to the nurse, who frowned at the two girls. "Um, what's the boyfriend's name?"

The nurse checked something from the computer screen again. "It reads Pin Hawthorne, do you not know him?"

"Wait, he's not—" Becky started but Jade elbowed her. "I— I mean, no. I mean yes! We do know him. He's their boyfriend, yes. We just... didn't know he's here. We're sorry for bothering you."

The nurse raised her eyebrows momentarily but then nodded, putting her glasses back on and continuing to work on the computer.

"They are dating?!" Becky hissed at Jade, who just shook her head.

"They would have told us, they've been in love with Pin since forever. And they were nervous about making the relationship dire when it was revealed they'd be competing together in that race, it can't be that," she explained.

"I guess you're right," Becky mumbled. "I just wish they'd let us see them. But... why would Pin— ohh, he lied about it!"

"So he'd be able to be with them!" Jade giggled, and Becky nodded, basically jumping a little in place.

"He has feelings for them too, I knew it!" she squealed and hugged Jade's arm.

The nurse looked at them for a second before looking at her screen again.

"Hey, is... are they alright? We came here as fast as we could," Zoe asked her friends, Rosie trailing behind her. Becky immediately beamed at them.

"Pin is pretending to be their boyfriend," Jade whispered. "So he'd be able to be with them in the hospital room."

Zoe blinked. "Wait, what?"

Becky nodded, her smile only growing wider. "He's so sweet and brave!"

Zoe beamed now too. "We knew it!" she laughed and glanced up just in time to see Pin coming from the cafeteria with a big mug and a small paper bag.

"Well well, Mr. Duke has found himself a partner, it seems," she teased, and Pin's cheeks grew pink at that. "How are they?"

Pin cleared his throat. "They're fine. They wanted a hot cocoa," he mumbled and then turned his head away, but the girls could see he was grinning.

"Tell them to text us when they can. I mean, if they have time during your honeymoon," Zoe winked.

Pin's cheeks just grew redder at that but he nodded. "I'll let them know."

He disappeared to the hallway, leaving the girls grinning behind, and they all knew that it wouldn't be long before you and Pin would be together for real.

---

Requests are always open! FANDOM LIST | PROMPT LIST(S) | RULES (READ!!!)

[knuts-and-bolts]

What I think is really tragic is that most people will never get to experience a horse that truly trusts them. You people will never know how full a heart can feel when your horse neighs at you from across the field and comes trotting over. Unless you get very lucky, you will never experience the serenity of laying along side her in a pasture after galloping through the fields. I wish I could telepathically send all of you the feeling of your horse resting her head on your shoulder or rubbing her face on your chest.

Unfortunately I cannot post emotions, but here’s an image of the lovely lady in question (she thought my phone was a treat and got really excited)

[muppetjokernumbersixtyninefan]

FOal tRot neiGh neIgh Vvhinny nEigh MarE FoAl troT neigH nEigh tRot. neIgh Mare SnorT neIgh gaLLop neigH cantER nEigh FOal snoRt whinnY snOrt bUck.

[smolvenger]

Miss Narracott and The Captain, Part Four (Capt. James Nicholls x fem! Reader Miniseries)

Fandom: War Horse

Series Summary: It is 1912-1914. You are Y/N Narracott, the older sister of Albert Narracott. You must do what you can so your family can keep their farm. And so your brother can keep his beloved horse. Under financial struggles, you never expect romance to come into your life...until you have a chance encounter with James Nicholls- a Captain with a knack for drawing. But the threat of war lingers in the air...

Chapter Word Count: 7K (one of the bigger ones)

Part One//Part Two//Part Three//Part Four//Part Five Coming Soon!

Chapter Warnings: Angst and Fluff. Reader being thirsty (can you blame her), but no smut. Jealousy. It's a light, Diet Slow Burn. I choose violence by selecting a cliffhanger for the ending. Attempts at historical accuracy and Cottagecore vibes.

A03//My Ko-Fi//My Etsy Shop//Masterlist//Wattpad

A/N: Comments, Reblogs, DMs, and Asks about my work are always appreciated! Feel free to ask to be tagged in this and/or my other stuff! Thank you!

Taglist: @evelyn-kingsley @jennyggggrrr @five-miles-over @fictive-sl0th @ladycamillewrites @villainousshakespeare @holdmytesseract

@eleniblue @twhxhck @lokisgoodgirl @lovelysizzlingbluebird @raqnarokr @holymultiplefandomsbatman @michelleleewise @wolfsmom1 @infinitystoner @12-pm-510

Autumn 1913

That Sunday, You and Albert went about on one of your typical Sunday walks. As usual, Joey trotted next to you. The long grass was turning brown. The sky was so bright, yet the air was very crisp. The trees were growing orange with the harvest.

“And how was sitting in that rowboat with Lyons?” he asked, recalling the church picnic yesterday.

“Dreadful. I thought I’d fall asleep from how he droned on!” you recalled.

Joey shook his head and let out a neigh. You patted his nose. Then reached up a hand to run through his mane.

“He agrees with you on that one!”

After a beat, Albert asked.

Y/N, have you ever ridden him?”

“Oh no! Not even tried! I don’t know if I can!” you cried.

“Come on, try it!” Albert suggested, handing over the reins.

“But Albie, I could get hurt! I’m not the type to gallop!” you objected.

“Oh, he won’t! He only gallops if you urge him on! Or some loud sound spooks him! Come on- have some fun, Y/N!” Albert argued.

Albert did it all the time. He made it look so easy. And you were curious. You never rode horses. No one taught you how. Usually, the horses on your farm were for plowing instead of riding.

"Just once, Y/N! Save your feet!" Albert suggested.

You wanted to feel less afraid of things. You heard of people dying when they fell off horses. You wanted to feel in control. You envied Albert's freedom in private to run around after farmwork. And his bravery in training and riding a galloping horse. You wanted to know what it was like...and there was only one way how.

Not that you hated Joey- oh no! By now, Joey was a member of the family. He had grown bigger than the colt your family's future depended on to a gorgeous stallion. He even had a special saddle, bridle, and reigns for him. The dear horse would even sometimes trot up to you as you left the house for work. He'd nuzzle against you and sometimes let you brush his mane. One time you and Albert put your gloves on Joey’s ears for fun. Then you both roared into laughter at how his twitching ears moved the gloves like eager hands on his head. And wasn't that why many people kept horses as pets? To ride them?

“Alright...I’ll ride him. Just show me how,” you said.

“Wonderful! He can sense if you’re nervous, so just calm yourself! I won’t make him go fast!” he promised.

Albert was big and strong for a boy of sixteen now. He put his hands around your waist and hoisted you up on the saddle. Joey only let out a small sound at the feeling of your weight on him. But the horse kept still and even moved his head to glance at Albert. You swung your legs to be on one side like you noticed ladies doing. You held onto the reigns tightly.

"You see how he stood still when you got on him? That's proof he likes you!” Albert informed.

"Lead him, Albie. He doesn't really listen to anyone else," you advised.

"Come on, Joey! Let's give Y/N a ride back home!" he ordered, clicking his tongue as he gestured to the horse.

Joey began to move on the path back home, and you gasped some. You were on a breathing, living thing that could throw you off!

Balance your weight, Y/N...and be sure to keep your heels down,” Albert taught you.

You shifted to make sure your body was even and secure. Your leg stretched as you pointed your heels down.

"Good boy, Joey! Gentle…gentle…" You urged as he walked forward.

You felt Joey’s body relax under you and you relaxed on Joey. With the slow pace, you did release one hand to briefly pet him. It wasn't too far from home. You both had walked down the usual path- you and Albert had been perhaps- at most- ten miles down. And the meters were flying by. You heard the clop-clop of his hooves beneath the ground.

You got used to the pace. It was a pleasant day. The sun was shining, and one could hear the birds whistling at each other. The grass only dipped with the gentle wind. Autumnal colors painted the few trees that formed lines across the green fields.

Although it was a hilly area, Joey was used to it. Any larger rocks were stepped over or avoided. The slope on the path was slight. Though you did eye the side of the hill nervously. If you fell, you'd be rolling all the way down the hill like a wheel barrel until you landed among the sheep in the valley. You placed a hand on Joey's skin to note his temperature. If he was getting hot, he'd be slow and it was dangerous to ride a hot horse, according to Albert. But he didn't feel bad. Probably the cool air that kept him happy.

"We can go a little faster," you suggested.

"Alright!" Albert complied.

He then walked a little faster and clicked his tongue. Joey picked up speed to prance. You found yourself smiling. The Narracott House and farm appeared in the distance. Albert then looked up at you.

"You think you can ride him back?" he asked, pointing to the farm.

"Yes, I think I'd like to try!" you answered, feeling braver.

Albert then picked up his pace to a light jog and clicked his tongue.

“Okay Joey-little faster, boy!” he said.

Joey’s prance became a light run. You let out a squeal at the speed.

"Y/N! Don't scare him! And tug the reigns when you want him to slow down! Or click your tongue!" he instructed, though he was jogging next to you and getting breathless.

You smiled, feeling the sun on your skin and the clean, fresh air. You felt buzzed with movement, nature, exercise, and life. Joey passed Albert to head home. Why- in fact- it was fun! It felt like flying! You could feel how Joey’s black mane would tickle you. The air in your face was like a kiss. Albert was laughing as he kept up behind you. You were not worried about anything for once. You could enjoy the feeling of air and of your weight not touching the ground but moving. Beneath you, everything was smaller and flying faster, quicker by you. You couldn't help but giggle at it despite yourself. And sooner, sooner the farm was in view.

"Let’s keep walking home, alright boy? Keep this up, and I'll give you a whole apple from the tree! All for you!" you promised.

Once you approached the farmland, you tightened the reigns. And then clicked your tongue too for good measure.

"Slower, Joey, slower!" you urged.

Joey did slow his gait down to a mere trot. You pulled the reigns to lead him to walk through the yard to the horse area in front of the stable.

"Good boy, Joey. You're the best boy out there!" you said.

Tugging on the reigns (as you saw Albert do) Joey stopped. You then petted him.

"You're far better than half the boys in Devon! And far more handsome too!" you whispered with a giggle.

Joey brushed his lips in response. Harold the Goose let out a honk as you made your way back into the circular field in front of the stables.

"There, Joey! What a good boy! Who's the best boy?" you cooed. "You deserve an apple and a carrot too for good measure, don't you! Yes, you do!"

You hopped off. You began petting him. Albert caught up behind you. You looked into Joey's eyes, wrapping your arms around his head. Cuddling him as you would a cat. You heard Albert exclaim.

"Why- sir! Hello sir!"

"Albie, I’m not a sir-"

The rest of that phrase was cut off as you turned to see Captain Nicholls in his coat with his sketchbook. You jumped.

"Captain Nicholls! We weren't expecting you!" you cried.

"It's alright! At least your mother had plenty of leftovers for lunch!" he replied.

“What are you doing here?” you asked.

“I only hoped to draw the horse and the other creatures on the farm! What, may I ask, are you doing on Joey?” Nicholls teased.

“I…I only just rode him for the first time!” you explained.

Albert strolled up with a grin.

“Did you see that sir?” he asked Nicholls.

“Indeed, I did! I saw her gallop in from inside the house as I was done eating!” he replied.

“And how did she do?” Albert asked.

The captain turned to you.

“You did excellent Miss Narracott! You’re a natural!” he praised.

“I’ll keep that in mind, sir. You think I have a horsewoman in me?” you asked.

“If not already!” he quipped.

The picture of him and that girl at the Goose Fair snuck into your brain. You excused yourself and walked inside the house. Mum was already in the kitchen, watching the oven.

“Mum, tell me- where’s the feed? I want to make sure the animals have their lunch! Or the floors- they need a scrubbing,” you chatted. It was better to immediately distract yourself.

“There’s some dry laundry that needs folding!” she noted.

You ran out and got the dry laundry basket, bringing it to the table to fold.

She got a pan out of the oven. She set the hot, baked loaf on the windowsill, opening it up to cool. Mum then glanced out the window. James Nicholls could be seen out on the field with Joey already got his pencils and chair out and was starting to draw. Albert opened the door to the fence and then returned to talk with the guest.

“He sure does come around here, often, Captain Nicholls…” Mum commented.

“Yes…he does…” you agreed.

She turned around and sat down. Getting a fresh shirt from the basket and putting it on the table. But she paused. She glanced at you with a smile.

“Y/N, I will let you know…he has been perfectly nice to us and to your father. We…we do like him…” she prodded to you.

You set down the skirt you were working on.

“What are you implying?” you asked.

She glanced outside. Once it was clear that the men were far away, she leaned into you, placing a hand over yours.

“Y/N…if he’s showing up here often, I doubt it’s just for the animals…” she whispered with a smile.

You jerked back, shaking your head.

“It is for the animals. He’s seeing a girl!” you objected.

“How do you know?”

“Saw them together at the fair!”

Your mother blinked, her shoulders drooping.

“Oh…well then…there’s that…but don’t you think he was talking to her, nothing more?” she muttered.

Tears stung your eyes. False hope was not something you could afford. You grabbed the laundry basket with a grip.

“I’m going to do this in my room now…” you dismissed.

She put a hand on your shoulder to stop you.

“You…you have feelings for him, don’t you?” she asked.

You paused.

“Yes…that’s why it hurts…” you confessed.

She squeezed your shoulder.

“I’m glad you told me, Y/N; we can deal with your broken heart together…”

The laundry basket was placed on the table. You reached over to hug her. Quiet tears poured out of you for only a minute.

Though the sound of hooves made you look up. Then you gasped and jumped.

Joey was leaning his head through the windowsill to try to sample the cooling bread. You got out a tablecloth, batting it at him as Mum burst into laughter and so would you. Yes, bit by bit, day by day, your feelings for James Nicholls would pass…

Winter 1914

January arrived- cold, bitter, gloomy January. Thank goodness for the snow. It turned everything white and crisp and beautiful. It was one of those snowy days that saw her again. The slender blonde all the way from the summer. You knew in your stomach that it was her. She walked in with another fashionable coat and hat that you had eyed in a high-end catalog.

“Good day, welcome to Mrs. Snow’s shop,” Mary greeted, professional as always.

“The same to you,” she replied.

She only half-nodded at you as you looked about. Alice then turned the corner. She spoke in her chirrupy voice.

“Can I help you, Miss…”

“Corbyn. Sarah Corbyn,” the blonde lady introduced herself.

“Miss Corbyn, what are you looking for?” asked Alice.

“I am looking for scarves. The ones from Mrs. Valerie makes.”

“Those scarves? Oh, we just sold our last one, I’m so sorry!” Alice lamented.

“Oh, well, that is too bad…I know things run out for you here,” Sarah said with a smile.

“We will inform you when they are in stock! Ask any time!” Alice encouraged.

“How good! Thank you!”

Sarah sauntered around. Looking through items with a smile on her face. She then turned to you with a smile. She held up a bar of soap.

“Could I please have this Miss…”

“Narracott.”

“I should like to buy this lavender one, please,” she said.

She handed you the money and bought the soap. Shop bag around her arm, She then wandered over and got a newspaper, returning to you.

“Miss Narracott…there is a dance in two weeks, correct? There is the advert for the town hall…”

She pointed at it, and you glanced at it.

“Yes, yes, it is…Two per month,” you confirmed.

“I must ask you a favor. I am quite nervous despite myself! As a fellow woman, may I confide in you?” she cajoled.

“Yes. At least before Mrs. Snow arrives,” you said.

“Do you happen to know a gentleman named Captain Nicholls?” she asked.

Your eyes never left hers. You placed your hands on the counter to keep steady.

“Yes. Yes, I do.” You answered.

“My father invited him and a few of his men on a walk through the country this past Autumn. I joined them. It was a rather long walk all over. I do enjoy jumping from high places. I got to a tall rock, jumped off like so and Captain Nicholls caught me! It was the most thrilling moment of my life! And he’s quite strong too! Fathers invited him to call sometimes for tea- but I hope it’s for more than that! Miss Narracott, I believe I have affection for him and him for me! I do hope he likes me!” she voiced.

The ears floated in your brain. Never landing. Never processing. The images stuck to you, and you wanted to wash them off. But politeness and the fact you were at work forbade you.

“Other than the catching, what makes you think that?” you asked.

“Well, last Friday, I told him how I never usually go to dances. He asked why. I said, among other things, I tend to prefer better things to do with my time and I never have partners. He promised me two dances! Two! That’s a sign if ever!” Sarah continued. Her smile never drooped.

“That’s very…very good. Good for you,” you replied.

You desperately wished there was new cloth to fold or items to restock this minute.

“Well, do you think my father would approve?” she whispered.

There was a glint in her eyes. A thin eyebrow of hers arched up.

“He has no reason not to,” you answered.

“Oh, how kind you are! How good of you!” she replied.

It did not sound like a genuine compliment. She reached into her bag and retrieved her purchase.

“And I do like this soap! I advise you to buy it yourself! It helps keep away smells- especially that of farms,” she added.

It hit you like a slap. You forced your jaw shut else it’d hinge off. She then said her goodbyes, placed her soap in her bag and flounced away. Gripping onto the counter, you turned away to try to collect yourself. The three others all grimaced at each other and began to gossip about her.

“And she seemed so nice!” Mary cried.

Ida went up to you.

“I heard that last sentence! The nerve of her! Don’t you listen to her, Y/N! If she sets foot in this shop again, I’ll slap her! Mrs. Snow would fire me, but it’d be worth it!” she encouraged, rubbing your arm.

You stayed quiet.

To think this was the girl James Nicholls liked!! Other than her beauty and money, what did he see in her? Could he end up married to someone like her? All this- finding you, singling you out. Rubbing everything into your face. Why was she doing this? Had Nicholls somehow mentioned the Narracott farm? Then no doubt she found out that you- a single woman-lived there. And she wanted to make sure you knew she had her claws on him.

You let out a sigh. It would feel good to complain about her to Mum and perhaps Albert too.

When you returned home, you ran upstairs. You stared at the rabbit drawing. It was still pinned up against the wall. You didn’t have the heart to tear it to ribbons or burn it. James was never yours, to begin with. So, you only settled for keeping it in the first drawer of your desk. It was too tender. It was too kind. You could always fold it up and look at it. It was a gift that showed kindness and appreciation. Even if not specifically to you, but to your family.

· · ─────── ·𖥸· ─────── · ·

That winter there was more ice than usual. It sleeted all over the ground. Poor Joey couldn’t break into one of his famous runs about the yard. He’d have to be careful or slip. A blizzard swept over for a week, keeping everyone inside and closing businesses. When it calmed down, men poured salt onto the ground. Everyone could walk around again like normal. Animal or human.

When the shop reopened, customers filed in, each one more demanding than the last. More than once you had to fetch Mrs. Snow to reason with them. Even your co-workers were all complaining.

“I don’t know if I can talk to another Mrs about hat pins now,” Ida groaned.

“I’d like to sit for a bit for once!” you sighed.

Everyone was quite grateful when the last customer left, and the hour struck for closing. Mrs. Snow turned the sign on the window to say “CLOSED”. You gathered your basket, and put on your hat, dark coat, and gloves. You managed to get yourself a new pair for winter. But you didn’t want to discard the single one- it was too pretty. You began to head out.

“Goodbye, Alice! Ida! Mary!”

They all wished goodbye to you.

But as you began to walk out, the wintry air bit you. You shivered with the snow falling down like sprinkles.

But after a few steps who should run into you but Captain Nicholls in his long coat walking about town. You did not notice any lady near him. He grinned and approached you. You fought the bitterness in your heart. You greeted him with a smile.

“Captain, it is good to see you. It’s been a while since you graced our farm!” you greeted.

“A certain storm provided quite the obstacle. May I walk with you, Miss Narracott?” he asked.

“Thank you… you may,” you permitted.

You kept walking on. His own long stride was slowed. Some leftover ice had stretched out to the roads. Motorcars and carts had to be slow. Not to mention people.

“You have lived here over a year, what do you make of it? Country life too quiet for your liking?” you asked.

“Oh no- it’s perfectly fine and comfortable to me!” he chatted.

“And the people?”

“Oh, everyone has been splendid! Quite splendid! All the men agree!”

You didn’t want to mention the women. Lips shut, you would not play the game of manipulation and false sweetness Sarah did.

“And how have they been?” you asked.

“Good and jolly. Not that the storm stopped training or patrolling.”

As you turned over one corner you realized that the road was slipping beneath your feet. Looking down, you saw ice below your feet. You even let out a gasp and held out a hand to regain balance.

“Miss?” asked Nicholls.

“I’m quite alright!” you tried to assure him.

There was ice right before your path for several feet. And as you tried to take another step, you felt yourself wobble. If you didn’t solidify your footing, you would trip. Nicholls looked over and saw you were swaying with your arms still open. He walked slower and heavier, side by side in his gait.

“Here Miss Narracottt-allow me!” he proclaimed.

He held out his hand and took your hand. Gloves on gloves.

“Let me help you, how does that sound?” he asked.

You nodded.

How warm his hand felt. Even beneath the leather - the only thing keeping you from the contact of his bare skin against your bare skin. You felt the air in your lungs pause, only to rush out for want of air. You became nervous and excited at once- fearful and thrilled. He smiled gently at you as he held your hand. How handsome he looked- a shining star in the sky, an angel in a uniform. Letting all petty thoughts of jealousy melt away if only for a few minutes.

He guided you on the ice. He advised you how to walk slowly. Side to side with full weight on each foot. The way a duck waddles on land.

You curled your fingers over the base of his hand. You could tell he was strong like Miss Corbyn said. He seemed unbothered to lend the support you needed to keep from falling. And how gentle his hands were despite their size and strength. The leather was kept clean, and his touch did not squeeze you, but it was the right pressure. How safe he made you feel. You lingered, enjoying the touch until you made it to the not iced sidewalk. Then he let go of your hand. Your own remained in the air until you retreated it back.

“There- are you alright?” he asked.

You blinked, coming back to reality. Feeling a bit of air where you missed his touch. Even covered in gloves.

“I am,” you confirmed.

“Is there anything else you need, Miss Narracott?”

“Well, no. There’s nothing. I only ask for a safe passage back home.”

“Then, do you need me to walk you back there? Is it icy?”

“It’s not as bad…but it’s there…”

“Then let me walk you back. I wouldn’t want you to fall and get hurt.”

Through the white, thick snow, he walked you there. Only holding your hand again if it seemed the only path forward had ice on it. It made you wish that the men of the town poured less salt about the ground.

Spring 1914

Finally, Spring arrived with pomp and splendor. With the turnips and crops blooming, you could use your wages to have a ticket for a dance and a new dress to go with it. But Dad insisted Albert accompany you there and dance too. Your brother grumbled when he heard.

“You’ll never meet any girls if you stay cooped up with Joey!” you teased your brother.

“Neither will you meet any fellows!” he retorted as you both cleaned up the dishes.

He looked around. Mum and Dad were relaxing by the fireplace. Then leaned in.

“But…will Lyons be at the party?” he whispered.

“I don’t know…don’t think so. Said he hates dancing. He told me he likes to spend evenings checking his accounts with brandy.”

The evening of the dance, you checked your mirror to make sure your hair looked nice. When it met your approval, you looked at the new dress on you. In its pink with shortened sleeves, it was the nicest one you could afford to splurge on. The color’s shade looked flattering on you. Just like the ones in your garden. You wanted to forget work, the family’s rent, Miss Corbyn and Nicholls, Lyons's interest in you…and there were plenty of men in town. You only wanted to have a good time while you still could. As it matched the season, you wanted to be like a flower. To enjoy being in “bloom” when you still had it within you.

Entering the dance hall, all was happy and astir. Though this time paid for and hosted by the local militia. It seemed every young person in Devon had arrived there. No Mr. Lyons but his son, David, was gulping down glasses of punch. It was a large place with the walls painted light green. There was an open space with chairs shoved to the side for the dancing. There were two long tables filled with refreshments and drinks. It was brightly lit with the new electricity running through the place. The crowd flocked inside, and many among them were the green-uniformed soldiers.

It felt warm already. You heard the cacophony of a thousand conversations appearing at once. Many held plates and ate standing or sat in a chair. Flowers, fresh with the season's arrival, decorated each corner. A string quartet and piano, played by locals, were getting their music books in order, and warming up. You didn't know which would intoxicate the partygoers faster. The wine and champagne, the music, the dancing, the thrill, or the flowers.

Then the host went forward and said that the first dance was about to begin. Men selected their partners. They brought the ladies, blushing and smiling, out onto the floor as the musicians turned their music books to the first page.

“I barely remember any of the steps!” Albert complained.

“Oh, please! The ladies will thank you later! There are never enough men in the dance hall! They’ll always appreciate it,” you replied.

“Well, where’s dinner? I’m starving!” Albert complained.

Both of you walked over to the table. As you began helping yourself to a plate, Albert went over to talk with his good friend, Andrew Easton. You did notice out of the corner of your eye was Sarah Corbyn. She dressed elegantly in purple. The richness complimented her blonde hair. A silk ribbon tied about her waist, accentuating how tiny she was. And of course, she was talking to all the soldiers. You turned your head. You didn’t want to see it. Didn’t want it in your face. No- you would do your best to smile and be charming. Do all you can to win over as many dance partners as the evening allows.

"Oh, Y/N! I am so glad! How much we missed you!" cried Alice, running up to give you an embrace. She was decked in a lovely yellow complimenting her brown locks.

"Alice! I've missed you too! Especially seeing every man in Devon fight to be your partner!" you said.

"Oh, stop it!"

"It's true and you know it!"

"Oh, you should see Mary- she's already on the floor!"

In one corner, talking to other soldiers, you saw Captain Nicholls. He had removed his hat and placed it under his arm. You even could make out his laugh as one made a joke with him. How striking he looked even among them. And his smile made you smile as well. The gentleman pointed to his silk cap and took it off, showing it to Nicholls. He inspected it, looking at it thoroughly with his handsome hands. Then he handed it back. Nicholls said one thing that was indistinguishable, which broke the group into laughter. When his head turned, you looked away.

Once you finished your plate, you met your friends. Beaming and smiling, you managed to find a partner for the next dance through a mutual friend of Alice’s. As you went over to a table to get a glass of lemonade, two soldiers walked by, chatting. Not once did they glance at you, engrossed in their conversation. You heard the tenor voice of the first one clear as chimes.

“…I would say I should be shocked, but I’m not…. always had a bit of the romantic in him…” the first gossiped.

“Hard as he keeps it in, he does, Old James. A romantic wouldn’t have that sketchbook…” the second said.

You paused. Realizing you wanted to overhear. Before you could stop yourself.

“He’s mad about the girl! He’s a Romeo but you’d never guess it when he charges…”

“Jamie says he lights up whenever someone asks about her…”

“You don’t think…he’ll make an offer, sooner or later? I bet her father would lose his head to have a Captain as a son-in-law!”

“Oh, it’s only a matter of time. I doubt it’ll be long…they say things are getting tense. With every alliance Britain got itself into…it won’t be long then…he’ll hurry her to the altar…”

Swallowing back tears, you promptly turned away. You would not, no, could not listen further. You joined Albert and Andrew. You would distract yourself, you would…

Besides, you were determined to move on. To distract yourself. To meet with every young, eligible man you could. To give yourself options. Before the next dance began, you turned to Andrew.

"How about a dance? You must break out into there!" you prodded.

"Why, sure thing, Y/N!" he agreed.

As you began to dance as he discussed how his dad was doing. Talked about Joey. About the Easton family dog. Andrew was a stiff and awkward dancer, but as he talked, he relaxed some. You then went to your friends.

"Ida...how many of the soldiers and officers have you met? Could you please introduce me?" you requested.

Ida's face lit up like it was her birthday.

"Oh, I know some!" she bragged.

"I want to spend as much time dancing as I can!"

"To make up for the lost time?" she asked.

"Yes," you replied.

It was mostly true. You were not going to tell anyone other than your mother how you felt about Nicholls. She kept secrets better than anyone.

"Then, let me show you one gentleman! Booker's his name and he's a wonderful dancer! Oh, and Mister Smith, too!"

Ida couldn't have been better. You found out you had plenty of young officers to meet and chat with. And some of them danced with you! Though often you had to sit down and rest your feet. Even to admire everyone. There was a good balance of sitting and resting with dancing. And with a full crowd, there were plenty of other handsome faces to focus on.

Even Albert himself was smiling a little. He danced with several girls. He blushed bright red when he missed steps but kept dancing anyway. You did notice David Lyons and how smooth new his grey suit was. There was a red-haired girl, very pretty, who danced two in a row with him. It looked like she was the one to endure his sneering.

“Ah, the Narracotts!” said a low, familiar voice.

Turning around, you saw Major Stewart. He bowed in his uniform, and you returned the gesture. And right next to him, there was Nicholls. Your heart leaped into its chest.

“Why, haven’t seen any of you yet! How are you gents this evening?” Albert asked.

“Oh, just fine! The men here- we’re all happy to have some fun!” he responded.

“I hope you’ve been well, Mister and Miss Narracott! We haven’t seen the two of you all evening!” Nicholls queried.

“We have been,” you replied.

“And Albert, how’s Joey?” he said.

“Fit as can be! And gallopin’ every day, sir!” Albert declared.

“Don’t overwork him so he cannot plow,” Nicholls advised.

“Oh no sir, only after the plowing’s done! You should have plenty of time to draw him again if you want,” Albert responded.

“I shall be glad to!”

His eyes softened. They turned to you.

“Then…Miss Narracott, could I have the next dance?” he asked.

You had no partner. You could think of no excuse. You felt stupid just standing there looking at him. Part of you swallowed a scream of joy. The other part cried “No!” There was no polite way to turn him down- ladies had to dance whenever a gentleman offered. You replied.

“Yes…yes you may,” you permitted.

He offered his hand, and you took it, swallowing. Realizing you felt his bare palm on yours. It was calloused by his work with weaponry. You felt both enthralled and relaxed from his tender touch. You let him lead you on as other couples made their way around.

Just like when he helped you when the road was icy. You can indulge in it. Let him take your hand. Enjoy only one dance with him. Just one.

You let him put one hand on your back. Feeling the light pressure. You could see his thick lashes and the blueness of his eyes. You put a hand on his arm, feeling the texture of the uniform. He smelled like light sweat from dancing and cologne. You felt his breath and could even tell the slight lift in his muscles when he inhaled.

“I hope you forgive me. I’m rusty at this. I used to go dancing all the time. With work, not as much…” you explained.

Other couples gathered on the floor around you. You looked directly at him and him at you.

“I can understand. I used to avoid them,” Nicholls confided.

“How come?”

“I was too shy when I was younger. Couldn’t gather the courage to ask a girl. Then when I did, I did the wrong steps. I’d crush a girl’s toe. They all will tell you as proof!”

The violins put their bows on the strings. And you started to dance with him. Moving with his lead.

“You’re keeping out of mine just fine…I think you’re a lovely dancer, Captain…” you encouraged.

“Really?” he asked.

“Like your drawings…you should enjoy it. You should be here…”

He led you to sway as you stepped your feet into a square pattern. You accepted it. Letting him start to pull and push you with the music.

“And Miss Narracott?” he said.

“Yes?”

“You look pretty as a picture tonight.”

Your mouth went dry, and you felt the racing of your heart against your chest.

“You’re very kind, sir,” you replied.

You continued the dance. Feeling the step of the music’s downbeat. He kept turning you around and you danced with him. Let the music take you both. You could almost hear his heartbeat from how close you were.

He took a step back and you took a step forward. When he stepped sideways you followed. It was all so simple. You clutched onto his hand and let his hand on your back press you closer. The waltz was at a moderate tempo. You felt eyes look directly into yours. You couldn't peal your eyes off Nicholls either. He gave a small smile. The way he would step into the downbeat was natural, and you found that you followed.

A glimpse at the crowd showed Stewart smiling, crossing his arms. But Albert's eyes were wide, staring intensely at both of you. He hadn't done that with your previous partners. Nicholls, as always, was dashing in his green uniform. His closeness made you notice details. You can see each button on it. How pressed and perfect it was. Smooth as the round buttons ran down his chest. The four pockets- two on top and two on the bottom are like windows on a building. His lighter green shirt contrasted with his darker green tie. The lovely and ornate cream decorations on his sleeves. The more obscene part of your brain wondered what he looked like underneath it.

It felt natural to dance with him. Natural as eating, as blinking. It was like there was a crook on your body, a niche, that only he could fill. He held you with both confidence and gentleness. He didn't throw you around like a ragdoll. His rhythm met yours. Each step you moved in tandem. Looking at him was as close as one could get to feeling drunk while completely sober. You became aware of how your breath must smell of the refreshments. You only saw slight sweat on his brow from the movement and the heat of so many bodies packed into one space. You felt your own breath become ragged and short. Being so close to him, almost like an embrace. He was quite a tall man, but he was not intimidating. If not, there was a delicacy in his touch, his stature. He could break you but chose not to. It was only a gentle press to keep you steady. You realized it was your fingers curling over his. There were several other couples dancing with you. But with him, that was easy to forget.

His hands even sweated a little. But you saw he was smiling. Your own lips parted, but no words came out. It was a gentle dance. He would sometimes glance at his toes to make sure he didn't step on yours. Then they returned to you. The movement was never forced. And you found the pattern too easy. One, two, three, four. One, two, three, four.

After the dance, you both paused, catching your breath. You felt as though you were coursing with fire through you looking at him. You could feel your chest heavy with each intake. It felt too soon for that dance to end. People clapped.

“Miss Narracott…are you-“

“Oh, dear Captain!”

In cut in Miss Corbyn. Blinking, you took a step back.

“Miss Corbyn! I hope you and your family are well,” he greeted.

“Couldn’t have been better! How kind of you to ask!” she chirruped.

She then turned to you.

“Ah, Miss Narracott, how good to see you,” she greeted in acknowledgment.

She then promptly ignored you back to him.

“Captain, you promised me two dances. Two!” she pouted.

“That was at the one in January!” he corrected.

“And what about this one!? Will you leave me without a partner?”

She turned to you.

“It is bad for a lady to be without a partner, isn’t it, Y/N?” she asked.

“It is bad…” you said.

She whipped her blonde hair back to him.

“Well, we can have a dance?” she pleaded.

“Then, I…I, Uhm, excuse me. Goodbye,” you replied, turning around, and leaving them.

You stomped to the corner to have some dessert and another glass of lemonade. The burning, hot sensation in your body from movement and his skin's touch required it. The unspeakable, shameful things you’d let him do to you as well as the gentle, loving things. And not to look at them. Anything to keep you from looking. You even turned around a chair for two dances and kept your face focused on the wall.

You then danced with one more bloke. Then another. Just to wash Nicholls from you and invite men to call for tea. And to end the night on a good note. Especially about how he was the best partner. How you could still feel the touch his hand burned onto you in the morning.

Summer- 1914

It was such a nice, sunny Friday all that afternoon. Perfect weather. But out the shop window, there were dark clouds. Thunder boomed ominously as your shift reached its last hour.

Returning home, you walked at a quick pace. The bright sun contrasted with the darkening clouds. There were some sheep in the middle of the path. You waved your arms and shooed them off. As you hurried towards your farm up the hill, it started raining. As you walked in, you saw your own parents inside for shelter.

“Where’s Albie?” you asked.

“Out riding!” your mother answered.

The rain turned to torrents. Lightning reached like a large, terrifying finger right through the clouds. It beat against the house in a never-ending fury. The rain broke through the roof and opened the windows. Gusts burst the door open.

Albert arrived, his shirt, boots, and overalls were drenched. Dad got out a tall pole to adjust the roof, so water didn’t break out. You and your mother went about to close and secure windows that the gusts blew open. Running upstairs, you saw that each of your rooms had some rain from the open windows. You shut them closed and secured them. But the rainfall punched against it, like a burglar insisting on getting in. Downstairs, you even saw that the Goose had broken into the house, shaking his white feathers dry.

“Shoo, Harold, shoo!” Mum scolded, pushing him aside.

But the defiant Goose honked in protest and went to a corner to tuck himself in for the night.

It was hard not to shake like a child at the sound of the thunder. It rattled the house when it boomed. But eventually, you managed to crash to sleep. Glad that Dad managed to seal the hole allowing your room to remain dry. In fact, as you lulled, the rain was beginning to sound peaceful.

The next morning, you discovered that the peace of the rain was only in its sound. The bottom field was flooded. You and your family drudged around, the muddy water up to your ankles, trying to save what turnips you could. Only a meager few in the whole field survived. But it was all a muddy, destroyed mess. It would be too late to begin to plant something else.

Albert ran off to check the rest of the farm. You and Dad sat by the fire. Mum fixed all a cup of tea, blankets wrapped around you. Dad only looked sadly into the hearth.

“I know what I can do. I’ll talk to Mrs. Snow. Ask for longer hours. I’ll work earlier or later. Or both. Whatever I must do…” you promised them.

But that Monday, Mrs. Snow said flatly that you were working the maximum hours. And that there wasn’t any need for early or late work.

It was that Friday you hurried home, your paycheck in your basket. Thank goodness it was pay week! With that, it would cover part of the rent. You would do it. You would gladly give every guinea. What need did you have for dance tickets or other indulgences now? If it gave everyone (including yourself) peace of mind, if Dad stopped drinking and staring into space with tears in his eyes, you’d do it. The choice was made when you first got the job! Even if it couldn’t cover all the rent, it was something! Then, you’d scrap up the turnip sales and rely on the animals. Yes, dinners would shrink. But your family would keep the house!

But you noticed a shiny red motorcar parked right outside. As you walked into the front yard, Albert was pacing about. Mum was trying to feed the chickens, pouring feed out from her apron.

“How long have you been out here?” you asked.

“About a half hour,” Mum answered.

“Where’s Dad, what’s going on? What’s Lyons doing here?” you asked.

As if in answer, the door opened. Out walked your father and Lyons. Albert took a step forward, then his steps froze. Mum glared at Lyons, her face red.

“Y/N, come on in the kitchen,” your father urged.

Today was not the Fifteenth. Not the usual day for paying the rent. His son and servants were nowhere in sight. Why you and not your mother and brother too?

“Mr. Narracott, may I have your permission to speak in private with your daughter?” he asked.

The answer hit you.

Terror gripped you. Nausea soured your stomach, and your legs and hands were shaking uncontrollably. You felt as if you could get sick in the yard. Or as if you could faint. You wished you could faint. Just so you could black out, and escape into nothingness. Then awaken in your room to a new day with nothing expected other than the usual. But no, you were in your body. You folded your hands.

“Yes sir, you can talk to her.”

Your father looked up at you. His eyes had both sadness and hope inside them. You clutched at his shoulder, urging him to stay. Stay with you. Don’t leave me, don’t leave me, please don’t leave me. He can talk with both of us, please.

“We’ll be right outside, my girl. He said he won’t talk long,” He said. He then put your hands down, walked outside, and closed the door, leaving you alone with Mr. Lyons.

[otherworldseekers]

Something's Gotta Give Chapter 8 Scene 2

And for those who don't want to read it on AO3...

Previous installment | Masterpost

Once, the road that ran through the country just south of Mor Dhona would have been frequented by Garlean convoys moving back and forth between Castrums Meridianum and Centri. But now it was deserted, the remaining Garleans who hadn’t died in the destruction of the Praetorium holed up in what remained, waiting for a rescue that would never come. Severia had watched Nero closely when they had passed by his former seat of command, but there had been no emotion on his face. His lack of concern for his fellow soldiers made her shiver. Every time she thought she was figuring him out, he showed her a new piece of himself, and she struggled to fit them all into the same picture. But at least it gave her food for thought on the long road north. 

They were deep into the hills when the storm caught up with them. The dark clouds rushed in as if blown by a wind from hell, the change in the atmosphere covering her skin in goosebumps. She urged her mount forward faster, her head whipping back and forth in search of any kind of shelter, but even the few trees that grew on these rocky hills were bare at this time of year and would do little to shield them. What would they do? She had to find something. A convenient pile of boulders, a rocky overhang, anything…

Rain started to splash down on them and Severia felt her bile rising as she began to panic. The storm was moving too quickly. At this rate it wouldn’t be long before…

A long low rumble sounded from the south west. For a moment, her body seized up and dizziness almost overcame her, before the sound faded away. She kicked her mount into a gallop. A small voice in her mind whispered that it was reckless and futile, but a louder voice was shouting “run, run, run”. The first lightning strike she saw was only a few hills away, the clap of thunder sounding just a moment after the flash. And at that point, she lost all reason. 

Nero wiped water from his eyes and cursed as Severia disappeared down the road. The rain was falling in sheets, reducing visibility to mere fulms. He had no idea what had gotten into the Warrior of Light that she would do something so stupid as to gallop headlong into a storm, but it left him little choice but to follow her. He cried out her name over and over but the roar of wind and rain was too strong. More than once he just barely avoided careening into a tree or rock along the roadside and his chocobo squawked and fought him in protest. 

Suddenly there was a brilliant flash of light and heat ahead of him on the road and he heard a terrified scream. He had a very bad feeling about that scream. Thunder crashed around him as he burst onto the scene, bringing his chocobo skidding to a halt as he vaulted off its back and ran. Severia lay in a heap on the road, rain and dirt spattered and unconscious. Nero went down on his knees in the mud, lifting her limp form in his arms. He breathed a sigh of relief to feel her pulse still going strong. Nor did she appear to have any sign of injury. The lightning hadn’t hit her, but judging but the scorched circle just a few fulms away on the road, it had been close. 

Was that enough to cause such a reaction in a woman who had faced Eikons without flinching? He felt there was more here that he did not know, but that would have to wait. He had to figure out what to do about the situation immediately before him.

Perhaps miraculously, Nero’s chocobo was still standing where he left it, attempting to cower beneath its wings. He looped the reins around his arm and, carrying Severia, headed further down the road where he could just make out the dull golden glow of her Kirin. As he approached the beast, it looked at him and made a sound halfway between a horse’s neigh and a dragon’s roar. Then it trotted further up the road before stopping and looking at him again. 

Nero sighed. “Very well. Might as well follow the mythical beast and find out what happens,” he muttered. “It can’t be worse than standing here in the rain.”

After several more starts and stops, Nero peered through the rain and made out a patch of darkness in the hillside. A cave. The Kirin had led him to a cave. Naturally. As unsettling as the experience was for a man born in magicless Garlemald, Nero was not ungrateful. The Kirin was watching him carefully as he carried Severia into the shelter of the cave. Nero made a point of nodding to the creature and saying, “Thank you.” It seemed content with that and walked sedately into the cave before him. 

Blinking the rain from his eyes, Nero looked around and took stock of his situation. Fortunately the cave was rather large and it was obvious that it had been used by travelers before. There was a campfire circle still in evidence and toward the back of the cave a stack of dry wood. Nero gently laid Severia down to one side of the circle of stones and attended first to their mounts, as she would have wanted him to do, removing saddles and saddlebags and providing his chocobo with a pile of greens. The kirin, Severia had told him before, was a spiritual creature and didn’t need physical sustenance. 

He concluded that starting a fire next was most urgent as both of them were soaked to the bone and shivering. Severia had always used flint and tinder but Nero smirked and fetched his ceruleum lighter from his saddle bag. Soon he had a lovely blaze going. That left the question of their water logged attire. Using some of the longer sticks from the stockpile, Nero quickly fashioned a couple of simple racks to dry their clothing on more efficiently than they would dry on the cave floor. Satisfied with their construction, he peeled off his overcoat, waistcoat and shirt, placing them on the rack to dry, and putting his boots next to the edge of the campfire. He longed to take off his chaffing trousers but suspected that Severia would not be so keen on that idea should she awake. Well, if he moved around enough they would probably still dry on his body. 

Nero narrowed his eyes as he looked at Severia. This was going to require some delicacy. But if he left her in those soaked clothes in this weather she would surely catch a chill. He considered whether or not she might rather risk the chill than have him undress her. Probably. And whether or not he was simply justifying the action in his mind so that he could get a peak at her in her small clothes. Well, who could blame him? She, certainly. But she wasn’t conscious at the moment. Still… 

He retrieved a blanket from the saddlebags, thankfully dry. He wasn’t the best of men, but he wasn’t a monster. He would wrap her up warm when she was free of her wet attire. Tackling the ridiculous number of belts and buckles, Nero finally managed to pull her tunic open. A moment later he closed it again. 

“Well, that was unexpected,” he muttered to himself. He sat back on his heels and rubbed his chin in thought. His objective was to get her dry and warm. Surely she would understand?  He considered this possibility. “No, she’ll kill me. But what else can I do?” He began to reach for the opening of her tunic again and then paused, sighed, and closed his eyes. 

He performed the rest of the operation blind and very, very carefully, making sure he touched her no more than he absolutely had to. If she woke up before he was done she would certainly kill him. Some jostling couldn’t be avoided and her hair came loose around her shoulders. Once she was wrapped up in the blanket, he placed her on her back beside the fire. Feeling restless and slightly irritated at himself, Nero went to dig through the saddlebags for supplies. 

His own actions of late had become confusing to him. He had always been a man who looked out for himself first, who satisfied his own desires at others’ expense if necessary. So what was it about Severia Zetsuen that had him repeatedly considering her welfare above all else? Why did he find himself wanting to please her? Even more concerning, why did he feel the urge to protect her? Even if it be from himself?

Returning to the campfire with his spoils, Nero finished setting up camp and began to make preparations for their evening repast. He glanced occasionally at Severia as he worked, noticing when her face turned toward the warmth of the fire, when her cheeks became rosy from the heat. So when her eyes slowly blinked open and she sat up and looked around herself in a daze, he was ready to hand her a steaming cup of tea. 

At first Severia stared at it in surprise, but when she took the cup in her hands and breathed in the fragrance a smile lit her face. She took a small sip and sighed in appreciation. “Thank you. But how…” Her brow furrowed as she examined herself. “Did you…” She peaked beneath the blanket wrapped around her. 

Ah yes, here it comes, Nero thought to himself. “Now, hero,” he began, trying to head her off, “it’s hardly my fault that you weren’t wearing any small clothes under that tunic.”

Severia let out a squeak, her face frozen in a horrified rictus. “You looked? You saw me…”

“I couldn’t help the first glance,” Nero argued in his defense. “I certainly wasn’t expecting it.” And it certainly didn’t seem like her, wearing her tunic without any kind of undershirt or breast band. But he wasn’t about to question her about her underwear habits. “Er, Severia?”

Severia had calmly set down her cup of tea and turned her back on him, hiding her face in her arms. 

Nero ran a hand through his hair, feeling a little hurt. He’d done his best, hadn’t he? He’d carried her through the storm, seen to her comfort and health, made her favorite gods-damned tea. Why the hells did it matter so much if he’d seen her breasts? They were both mature adults. These things happened.

Nero’s brow furrowed as he began slicing bread for their evening meal. Hunched over on the other side of the fire, her hair flowing around her shoulders instead of pulled back as usual, she looked so small and fragile. He’d gotten so used to her meeting him as he was, to their interplay as equals. He’d quite forgotten how much younger than him she was. How inexperienced compared to himself. And suddenly he felt a thousand years old. 

Fucking hells, he thought to himself. I might as well be the despicable old lecher she takes me for. 

A clap of thunder echoed through the cave. The storm continued to rage outside and Nero had almost stopped noticing it. But at the sound Severia began to shake. Was she cold? She shouldn’t be, sitting so close to the fire. If it wasn’t the cold that made her shiver then… It was fear. And the pieces of their predicament fell into place. But before Nero could say anything, another bolt of lightning hit just outside the cave, another crash of thunder accompanying it. 

Severia screamed and threw herself to the ground, curling up into a tight ball. She wasn’t just afraid. She was terrified. Nero shuffled over to her side, putting his arms around her shoulders and lifting her to face him. “Severia. Severia, it’s alright.”

Eyes closed and hands gripping her horns, she shook her head and moaned. It was somewhat shocking seeing her, the fierce Warrior of Light, frightened of thunderstorms like a child. Nero wasn’t sure what to do. He’d never comforted anyone before. 

“It’s alright,” he repeated. “We’re safe here.”

Tear filled eyes peaked out from her blanket. “Safe?” 

“I promise you,” he said gently, brushing hair from her forehead. “The storm won’t reach us here.”

“Us?” A whimper with just the barest hint of hope. 

“Us,” he said with what he hoped was an encouraging tone. “I’m here with you. You’re not alone.”

Her lower lip quivered and one small brown hand reached out from within her blanket for his. “You won’t leave me?”

Nero felt those protective instincts had only just been beloathing shifting into high gear and there wasn’t a damn thing he could do about it. He wanted, more than anything just then, to be the one to keep her safe. To be the one she could rely on. “Not as long as you want me to stay,” he promised. 

The haunted look in Severia’s eyes eased into relief, the corners of her mouth rising just the slightest bit. “Please,” she whispered. Her fingers brushed softly again his bare skin for a moment. “You’re so warm. It’s so cold. I don’t want to be cold.”

Nero felt a worrisome tightening in his chest and pulled her closer. But there was something wrong here because it wasn’t cold. Not right next to the fire as they were. And now he noticed that there was a glassiness in her eyes that he had never seen before. Her face and her shoulders were flushed and a sheen of perspiration was developing on her brow. Had all his efforts been for nothing? Had she developed a fever after all?

“Shit,” Nero muttered to himself. He laid her down on her bedroll. Water. He needed cool water. He grabbed an empty bowl and filled it with rainwater at the cave mouth and then ripped off a strip of his own blanket to wash her face and neck. He emptied her tea mug and filled it with rainwater as well and propped her up to help her drink it in small sips. 

“Nero…” she said weakly when he had forced her to drink the whole thing. “It’s ok. You can go. You can leave me behind.”

“What nonsense are you talking? Leave you behind? Because of a little storm?” Nero scoffed. “I assure you the situation is not remotely that dire.”

“I’ll just… be a burden…” Tears once more began to trickle down her cheeks. “I’ll always be… a burden.”

“Severia, you are the realm’s most competent adventurer, a hero in your own right, depended upon by world leaders and common folk alike.” That she would think so was laughable to him. But he realized that he was doing the same thing everyone did with her. Seeing her for what she could do, not who she was. She was far more than hero and champion. She was far more than that even to him. “You’re the most fascinating person I’ve ever met,” he told her softly, still holding her upright. “You make me want so many things I always told myself I could never have.” 

He didn’t know if his words were getting through to her. Perhaps it was better if they didn’t. But it was something he needed to admit to himself, he realized. Nero was a man who had always pursued lofty goals. But in chasing those dreams, there were things he had denied himself. Things he told himself would only get in the way, things he didn’t need. And he had thought it was no real loss. With Severia, long dead desires had begun to surface. The longing, more than anything else, of the companionship of an equal which he had given up on 14 years ago. 

It was a development he hadn’t anticipated when he had forced himself into NOAH. And he still didn’t know what he was going to do about it. What he wasn’t going to do was allow this incredible woman to say such patently ridiculous things about herself. 

“You’re no burden, Severia. Not to me.”

He watched her face crumple up in distress as her tears poured. “It’s my fate. It’s always been my fate. Just let me die.”

Nero sucked in a breath. With sudden insight he realized that this wasn’t about her life as an adventurer. This was about the past. What she had confided in him the previous night. Somehow she was reliving it. Something had triggered her. The storm. The lightning and thunder. He pulled her close and wrapped his arms around her, wanting nothing more than to take away her fear. But how? He needed to know more. 

“Severia,” he whispered into her horn. “Tell me about it. Tell me about the storm.” He watched as her eyes cleared and she seemed to see him for the first time since her fall. But she didn’t pull away from him. Instead she closed her eyes and buried her face into his neck, clinging to him like a woman drowning. 

“It was the third night,” she began softly. “I’d been tied to the tree for that many days. Without food. Without water. The ropes had torn my wrists to shreds from my struggles. But I had no more strength. I couldn’t even stay on my feet. I sagged against the ropes and they cut into me harder than ever. That was when the storm began. I didn’t notice it coming. The pain was all I knew. Then suddenly water was coming down in sheets all around me. At first I was happy. I opened my mouth and drank as much as I could. But then came the lightning. The sacred tree was the only tree for miles around. It drew the lightning to it. I watched it strike over and over, moving in my direction. It was inevitable that it strike my tree.” 

She paused to catch her breath, and on a whim, Nero took her hand in his and laced their fingers together. He raised their hands until the back of hers was against his lips. It felt natural to do it. It felt good. And she didn’t stop him. Did he dare to hope she liked it too?

“I don’t remember anything but the pain. So much pain, filling me from head to toe, and then nothing until I woke up the feeling of water on my lips. I couldn’t understand why I hadn’t died. I was supposed to die.” She let out a deep sigh. “Since then I’ve been terrified of storms.”

“Considering what you’ve just told me, I think that’s entirely fair. You experienced things no child should ever have to.”

“I should be stronger,” she said, her voice quavering. “I’m a burden to everyone like this. I… I couldn’t even fight Ramuh. I failed.” She pressed her face into the deep rumble of laughter in his chest even as she protested. “It’s not funny.”

“I think, as a man whose career you thoroughly wrecked with your typical prowess, it’s only fair that I be allowed to revel in your rare failures. At least a little.”

Her back went rigid and she pushed herself upright to glare at him. “Your career of invading foreign lands and murdering innocent peoples deserved to be wrecked,” she said acidly. 

Nero grinned. “There’s the hero I know.”

Severia blinked at him and then deflated. “That’s not fair.”

He tipped her chin back up so that their eyes connected. “Everyone fails, Severia. No one succeeds all the time. It doesn’t make you any less. It doesn’t mean you shouldn’t have been saved.” He wiped her tears away with his thumb and cupped her cheek. “I’m glad you’re alive.”

“Nero, you… You can’t…” 

They were so close, their mouths only ilms apart, and he was tempted almost beyond mortal strength to kiss her. He thought perhaps, with the way she was looking at him, that she might want it too. But he had told himself after last night that he wouldn’t kiss her again, not until she asked him. 

The moment passed and she pushed herself away from him. She looked exhausted as she laid back down. It was likely quite tiring to relive such a memory. Nero remember that he was supposed to be helping her, not forcing uncomfortable confessions from her. But he felt better knowing what was causing her condition. It should pass with the storm, but she still needed care. He stood up to refill her cup at the cave mouth. 

“Where are you going?” she asked, slightly panicked, as he walked away from her bedroll. 

“Only to get you more water. It’s important to take in plenty of fluids when you have a fever,” Nero explained patiently. 

Once again he helped her to drink the water in measured sips and then went back to his seat on the other side of the fire where the bread he had cut earlier was rapidly growing stale. “Fortunately it matters little since I was going to make toasted cheese.” There hadn’t been much else to eat left in their bags. 

“Oh,” Severia said hopefully. “That sounds delicious.”

“Trust me. It will be. I have a secret ingredient,” Nero said smugly. 

The secret ingredient ended up being garlic powder, which Nero said he always carried with him, just in case. And he was right. It was more delicious that she could have imagined. He insisted on her drinking several more cups of water during their simple meal and kept up a running stream of loud chatter to drown out the fading noises of the storm as it passed. By the time he had cleaned up the storm was reduced to just the steady beating of the rain and he saw that Severia’s eyelids were drooping. 

“Now, you need to rest, hero,” he said. 

“Oh. Yes.” She bit her lip, looking downcast. 

“Is there a problem?”

“Well. Um.” Possibly she was blushing, but he couldn’t be certain. “It’s only… I’d rather not sleep alone tonight.” 

Nero cocked his head as if he hadn’t quite heard her correctly. “What is it you do want?” There wasn’t anyone else there, except their mounts. Did she want to bed down with her Kirin? 

“Could I sleep with you?” she asked in a very small voice. 

The night had been full of surprises, but this one was perhaps the greatest. He stared at her for some moments, processing the request. 

“Not… Not that way! If that’s what you’re thinking,” Severia exclaimed. 

“I wasn’t.” Had hadn’t. He felt somewhat insulted that she thought he would consider taking advantage of her so in her weakened state.

“Good. I just-” 

“You want to sleep side by side?”

She looked like she was regretting the whole thing but she managed a grudging, “Yes.” 

“Very well. I’ll move your bedroll.”

Severia was grateful when he placed her bedding between his own and the campfire, protecting her on two sides. Even with the thunder and lightning gone, she felt terribly fragile. She couldn’t bear to be alone. And it felt almost natural when Nero banked the fire and then laid down beside her. What would it be like to have him always there, at her side? She thought, as she drifting off to sleep, that it might not be so terrible.

Silence fell around them with only the droning of the rain and the occasional pop from the campfire to relieve it. Nero was all too aware of Severia’s presence beside him and how very undressed she still was beneath the blanket. But he refused to allow his mind to dwell on it. Instead he conjured up the schematics for his new device in his mind and poured over them for the hundredth time, looking for any flaws and finding none. He smirked as sleep rose to claim him. Of course not. He was a genius.

Thanks for reading! Any kind of comments or feedback is especially welcome!

[paintedscales]

FFXIV Write 2023 :: Day 13

Prompt :: Check Characters :: Nomin tal Kheeriin, Tataru Taru, Krile Mayer Baldesion Word Count :: 941

FFXIV Write 2023 Master List

Back on the Source… Nomin stepped out and looked out at the features of Mor Dhona. Though she had been back on occasion to and from the Source and the First, this was the first time her being back felt significant. With her, she carried the most precious cargo she could ever be afforded at that moment -- the soul-infused auracite that held each of the Scions. Her companions. Her friends.

Closing her eyes, Nomin remembered that Horse was somewhere around here. He had been in safe keeping with one of the stable keeps in the area. If he were roaming for a time, then surely…

Nomin lifted her fingers to her mouth and whistled loudly. Her whistle had brief pauses and then a long, rising tone that echoed across the land. The same whistle that called Horse to her when she was on the Steppe and he had roamed free. All that was left to do was wait.

Closing her eyes, Nomin patiently waited. She counted in her head, and then opened her eyes as she heard the eager neighing of Horse as he galloped across the crystalized lands toward her. He slowed from gallop to trot till he eventually paused in front of Nomin and bowed his head to her a couple times in greeting.

“Hi there, my friend,” Nomin greeted in turn, happily approaching Horse and holding out her hand to him. She then dug around in her bag and pulled out an apple, red and ripe for Horse to smell. He lipped it before biting and eagerly pulling it away from Nomin’s hold. Small bits of apple fell from his mouth, and Nomin could only giggle softly.

“I do hope you enjoyed that treat. Come now…my friends must need tending to…” Nomin said, tracing her hand along Horse’s neck and then shoulders before she, like so many times in the past, hoisted herself up onto his back. He had no saddle, no reins -- only trust and leg strength would have to keep Nomin anchored.

Tapping her heels into Horse, Nomin pressed her hands against the base of his neck. She used her weight and some firm tells against his neck and shoulders to direct him back to Revenant’s Toll before she clicked her tongue and urged him back into a gallop with a ‘hyah!’ Together they traveled, and all the while, Nomin brought a hand over to clutch her bag to her chest, holding it tightly. Holding her friends tightly.

Nomin quickly dismounted Horse as soon as he ran through the portcullis of Revenant’s Toll. With the momentum, she staggered forward before she picked up with the pace and sprinted into the Seventh Heaven. She ignored the patrons and the staff, shifting and moving through them like water, her steps only guided by the aid of her Echo revealing the people within her surroundings so that she could make it back into the Rising Stones.

She flew down the steps past the entry door, and like the patrons, Nomin ignored other members of the Scions of the Seventh Dawn that were within. Though she could feel their gazes fix themselves upon her, Nomin hurried along before stopping and catching her breath in front of Tataru.

“K… Krile…” Nomin managed. “Get… Krile. I have… Night preserve… I have them.”

Tataru met Nomin with an expression of confused concern. Though Nomin panted and did everything she could to stabilize her breathing, she took her bag and thrust it forward, the soul-infused auracite within being heard clinking together. She reiterated: “I have them…”

In that moment, Tataru’s eyes widened and her hand flew to her ear, activating the Scion linkshell.

The Rising Stones had become abuzz with Nomin’s arrival, and Krile had run out of the Dawn’s Respite shortly after Tataru informed her of everything. Even if Nomin still breathed deep and in a practiced manner to collect herself, she and Krile went back into the Dawn’s Respite where the other Scions laid locked in a slumber not of their own choosing. Lifeless husks without their souls.

“Thank the ever vast night they’re all still okay…” Nomin said. With both hers and Krile’s Echoes at work, the auracite pieces and getting them set next to each of their respective owners was simple enough. However, when Krile checked in Nomin’s bag, there was one more within.

One more that felt familiar. Precious. Krile ran her hand along it before her breath caught in her throat.

“... Raha?” Krile whispered. She then turned her gaze toward Nomin, her expression speaking for itself the surprise upon it. “Why…Why do you have Raha’s soul as well?”

“That…is a rather long story. One he would be better fit to tell you, actually,” Nomin replied, offering Krile a sheepish look while holding out her hand to take the auracite. “If you would, I know where to find him. Please.”

Krile seemed almost reluctant, her gaze going down toward the auracite. However, she eventually relented and walked toward Nomin, offering her the auracite with a nod. “Do tell him upon waking that I have some choice words for him.”

Though Krile spoke with a hint of playfulness to her expression, her tone seemed to indicate some level of frustration. Taking the auracite with a continued sheepish look to her, Nomin nodded. Given what she knew of miqo’te culture, it seemed that G’raha and Krile were close friends, not that she had ever known that till now. Chuckling nervously, she then replied, “yes, of course. Keep an eye on everyone; I’ll be back before you know it!”

[the-wizard-writes]

Urban Fantasy Stories: Storm’s Brewing

//This is a drabble based on a small series that I’ve been working on.//  A.J frowned as she watched the incoming storm outside. Usually she liked the rain, hell she loves the rain but, this rain was different. Even as sea witch she knew her limits on how she could work her water magic. She just hopes that her friends are alright. The city rarely has large scale storms like this but, when the weather permits storms do hit hard.  “Hmm..” She hummed watching the rain drops race each other down the windowsill the storm clouds rumbled into view. Thunder rattled her apartment walls causing the witch to jump. “Dang, it’s really bad out there..” She mumbled. She peered outside at the street below noticing something blowing through. “Wait.. What’s that?” She mouthed to herself. The sea witch tried to get a better look out her window but she could barely make out what it was, the clouds perfectly obscured the figure that she saw but she swore she could see a person standing within the storm. Aisha quickly grabbed her phone trying to use her camera to get a better view of the thing in the clouds but, as she tried to get a photo the figure vanished. “Was that even real?” A.J asked herself. She may be a sea witch but she knew a bit about the weather as well. “Hmm, I mean of course storms happen everywhere..but,” she pondered. “This one seems a bit too out of place. Especially for this time of the year.” She glazed out her window again. Maybe she was being too paranoid after all of the coven turmoil that’s been happening recently. She just hoped that her friends were safe and their homes were boarded up.                                                       *** *** The clouds raged through the sky as the storm blew through the city. Thunder roared against the dark clouds lighting hurling through the sky scaring a group of small dragons resting on a skyline. Within the clouds a figure was galloping on a steed made of pure whirling wind creating thundering hoof prints against the fluffy clouds. Glass bottles clacked against each other as the figure continued to ride their horse in the clouds. The figure jumped from a cloud, the horse flying through the sky using clouds as cushions, their thundering hooves pounding against the pavement. As the figure rode through powerful winds lifted around them in a frenzied tornado burrowing through the city streets. The horse jumped onto a building riding horizontally across the windows of the empty  office space breaking some of the windows as their hoof made contact with the glass. The rider and horse made it to the top of the roof where the figure pulled on the reins of the horse causing a horrific bray stopping on the roof. The horse sighed, shaking its windy hair, the rider leapt off the horse unbothered by the thunder storm around them. The figure tipped their cowboy hat up scanning the city skyline. “Is this it?”  A voice in the figure’s head rang. The figure glanced back at the horse and nodded. “Yeah, this is it. I know she took her here.” The figure took off their hat and scarf revealing a tired young woman. She pressed her boots against the ledge of the building watching the storm rage on. She motioned the horse to come closer and the horse obeyed, trotting towards the witch. She took the reins off the horse bit’s of the horsed body became less of a horse but more of a storming cyclone. “Go out and find her. I know that damn woman would be hindin’ somewhere in the city. Leave no place unturned, you hear?” She ordered. The wispy horse neighed as they rode into the sky alone. The woman sighed watching the creature tear up the sky.  She took out two of the bottles from her satchels and opened them up holding them tight. Two other creatures made of wind manifesting into the sky one was a wild boar while the other was a bird. “Go on and help find them too, Surge already went out already go on and follow’em!” She said, The two creatures nodded, going out following the horse.