#next chapter's from Roman's POV

[myownwholewildworld]

acta, non verba - i. a badge of honour

series masterlist | main masterlist | chapter 2 pairing: conqueror!marcus acacius x ofc!reader. synopsis: scotland, 83 AD after the battle of mons graupius. the romans have come up to the boundaries of their empire with a relentless desire to conquer the savages that inhabit the highlands. they won't rest until the Caledonian tribes are subjugated. Marcus Acacius is in charge of your clansmen's fate, but if such fate is similar to your family's, you know you need to do something about it. as the only living daughter of the tribe chief, your people look to you for leadership. power plays, treason, deception, rebellion, war, love, heartbreak, betrayal. and two souls, destined to despise each other, trying to navigate it all. a/n: well, here it is! the first chapter of my new series, set in what is now scotland, during the romans' conquest of the british isles in the 1st century. hope you guys like it! as always, all interactions welcome. thank you so much for reading! <3 warnings: 18+, mdni. death, aftermath of a battle, burial of family members. reader is an original character - female, has a name (callie) and a physical description, family history, etc. i'll try to keep the references to a minimum though. age gap (callie is 26, marcus is 48). mention of infidelity and becoming a widow. marcus’ and reader’s pov. i have taken some historical licenses for ease of writing (use of "clan" as synonym for "tribe", references to irish/celtic gods, the caledonian people speak modern scottish gaelic instead of a (proto-)brittonic language). w/c: ~4.2k. dividers by @saradika-graphics i'll be tagging some people at the end of the chapter who interacted with this post. dw, i won't tag you in the next chapters unless you ask me to! also, if you want to be removed from this post, please send me a dm.

A light breeze whistled through the nearby standing stones. The dying sun provided no heat, and the ethereal landscape was cold with hues of blue and grey. Despite the shimmering wildlife that came with the first hints of spring, the meadow was uncannily silent.

The crows cackling in the distance broke such tranquil peace and woke you from your slumber.

Slowly you blinked, something wet and warm covering your eyelids. You felt it slide down your skin, pooling in the dip of your collarbone. Your limbs felt so heavy, you couldn’t lift a hand to rub your eyes clean. In fact, you were so tired that even taking a deep breath hurt.

Your orbs fluttered shut, shattered and defeated.

Dhuosnos, God of the Dead, was calling you to His side. His presence was soothing, so inviting, the most melodic sounds guiding you to Him. With the eyes of your dying imagination, He extended a welcoming hand towards you, a soft smile on His mythical features.

“Come with me, sweet child of the tribes.” A guttural voice escaped His lips, so dark and sombre it enveloped you.

You nodded, gaze down, submitted to Him.

“You can’t just take her, Dhuosnos. Callie is yet to avenge them — her purpose must be fulfilled first before she can greet you as an equal.” A second voice, feminine, otherworldly and reassuring, interrupted your exchange.

Morrígan, Goddess of War, placed Her hand on Dhuosnos’ forearm as to stop Him from reaching you. A stone of relief, but also of disappointment, sat low in your stomach when He took a step back, head bowed towards Her.

Steadily you undid your curtsy, your green eyes locking on Hers. They were black as the night sky, Her pupils and irises indistinguishable from one another. You looked into the abyss of Her sight and felt a deep-rooted longing, one you never experienced before.

“You are not done yet, mo leanabh (my child). Your people await your return.” Morrígan palmed your trembling hand, escorting you back to the earthly plane.

“But…”, you turned around to look at Her, ask for Her advice.

But She had already vanished, a sweet scent of lavander left behind.

You gasped awake, your eyes so widened, the cloudy, sunset sky above felt like it was crashing down on you. You were laying down on a pool of mud. A deep, raspy grunt escaped your lungs as you tried to move your arms. When you couldn’t, you looked down, confused.

Aengus’ lifeless body was resting on top of yours. Your father’s henchman had made the ultimate sacrifice by hiding you underneath him, away from the prying eyes of the Romans. The dense liquid caressing the skin on your face was none other than his blood. A trickle of thick red dripped from the gnarly wound in his neck on to your cheek. His eyes were staring at you emptily, his soul had already left this world when you regained consciousness.

Your father, Murdoch of Inbhir Nis, the Caledonian Overlord, had come to the aid of the Taexalian Overlord, whose territory was succumbing to the legions of Gnaeus Julius Agricola, a Roman governor with a high desire to impress his Emperor, Titus Flavius Domitianus.

Your father had gathered as many fighers as the Caledonian lands could give him. Both men and women were called to arms when the tribes were threatened. Being the daughter of the Chieftain would not spare you. You would not have chosen differently anyway, had you been given the opportunity. Fighting for land, clan and honour was your duty as much as your brothers’ and sister’s.

The journey from Inbhir Nis (Inverness) to Cala na Creige (Stonehaven) had been unforgiving, with illness and evil lying in wait. But you all had been warmly welcomed by the Taexali tribe and were fed copiously, the uisge-beatha (whisky) being served like water.

Your combined armies, shy of fifteen thousand folk, had been ambushed at Raedykes during a repositioning exercise by the Roman troops led by Agricola’s most trusted man.

General Marcus Acacius.

His mere name made you sick, anger crawling under your skin.

Fighting off your own opponents, you had seen the Roman General charge against your father like a beast, wielding a gladius over his head. The metallic impact of their swords rang loud across the landscape. The men looked into each other’s souls, an exchange of words shared between them. You were too far to listen, too far to fully see what was really happening as warriors from both sides danced through the grass.

Then you foresaw it before it happened: the heavy Roman sword fell on your father, who was struck to his knees with the General’s blade lodged in his belly.

You tried to get to him, screaming “Athair (father)!” at the top of your lungs. His eyes locked on yours before he fell sideways. You lunged forward but didn’t get to him, Aengus stopping you in your tracks.

“No, Callie, it’s too late now”, he had sorrowfully whispered in your ear before throwing you off to one side to fend off an attacker.

And then blackness swallowed you, an enemy hit you in the head so hard you lost consciousness.

That was how you came to be where you were — with your back flat on the silt and Aengus’ body blanketing yours. The grey sky above you sensed your pain, and, at Taranis’ command, it parted in the middle. The God of Thunder released a downpour to clean the blood, soot and woad’s blue dye off your face and hair.

You cried your sadness away, rainy tears sliding off the corners of your eyes — your anger, your loss, your torment, you purged it all, sobbing until you were devoid of all emotion. Taking a deep breath, which caused a needling pain on your ribs, you pushed Aengus to one side to free yourself from his weight.

The thudding sound he made almost brought more tears to your eyes.

“Sorry, uncail (uncle)”, you muttered, hovering your fingertips over his eyelids to shut them for him. Now he could finally rest.

You stood up, your knees trembling like a newborn calf. A searing pain stabbed your skull, dried blood and dirt gathering on the wound on your scalp. With a straight back, you dared to look around you. The bodies of your own men and women were scattered around the hills of Raedykes. So many lives lost, you heard all your ancestors screaming from above, their cries falling upon you in the way of rain. The green, long grass was reddened with blood, but the weeping sky had started to wash away the atrocities committed by the Romans.

Then you saw him. Your athair.

“No, no, please, no...”, you whispered as your sight became blurry again, dragging your feet towards the fallen body of your dad.

Your soul tried to tear itself apart, become its own entity. You had to summon the last drop of the royal blood that ran through your veins to keep yourself in one piece. You knelt before him, craddling his bloody hand between yours. Unconciously your body rocked back and forth until you hugged him, laying flat on top of him.

Time stood still, like a thread on the expert hands of a wool weaver. It could have been minutes, hours or days, your pain too great to bear, to comprehend.

And then you felt a hand lightly tap your shoulder.

You startled, your mind and body jumping back into survival mode, gripping your sgian-dubh (small knife) close to your chest.

“It’s okay, mo phiuthar (my sister). It’s me, Torcall”, a raspy, masculine voice forced you to focus on the man in front of you.

He was your father’s most important tacksman and also husband to your older sister Mairead — your sweet Maisie, as you always called her. She was the eldest of the four siblings while you were the youngest. Always so witty and quick with a joke, Maisie kept up the spirits even when the circumstances were dire — in fact, before your paths had parted during the battle, she jested about your H-shaped shield being larger than you.

When you turned around, Torcall flattened his hands on your shoulders, slightly shaking you so you would come back to reality.

His blue eyes pierced through you, the situation becoming clearer in your mind. Thousands of your tribesmen were dead. Your father too.

“Maisie?”, you asked in a hush. Your heart clenched when your brother-in-law shook his head no. You were afraid to speak, but you did nonetheless. “Aodh and Somhairle?”

Torcall stared at you, his silence speaking loudly. “They are all dead.”

The air evacuated your lungs, feeling as if a spear had run through you. Learning about the death of Maisie and your twin brothers broke something within you, something fundamental and primal. They were your everything, your most trusted confidants. Despite being of different ages, you all were so tight-knit it was difficult to find one of you alone.

A heart-shattering wail escaped your lips as you bent over yourself, your chest snug against your knees.

Morrígan had unashamedly claimed most of your family that day, except for your beautiful mother. Now Her words made sense: you were yet to avenge them, to fulfil your purpose. She had spared you for a reason, not so you could pity yourself, knees deep in the mud.

To avenge them, you had to kill the hand who showered this tragedy upon you.

General Marcus Acacius.

A raven’s strident, gurgling croak forced you to look up to the skies — a subtle reminder that Morrígan was watching closely. The massive bird was circling above your heads, like a vulture waiting to feast on a carcass. With resolution, you wiped away your tears, your sobs now silent, and nodded at Torcall.

“I understand. How many…?”, your voice faltered before you could finish your question.

“A couple of thousands. We have found cover in the Dunnottar Woods while we regroup and… bury our dead.” Torcall replied, his eyes averted with the last sentence.

You had lost a sister, but he had lost a wife, the mother to his now half-orphaned children. “I’m sorry”, you muttered, your lips pouting once more.

“She died fighting, the death of a warrior.” His proud voice did not waver. “And your father?”

Your heart wept at his mention but managed to control the anxious fluttering.

“The General killed him.” Your teeth gritted with hatred.

“Mo bana-phrionnsa (my princess)”, one of your father’s retinue members bowed his head to you once you walked into the circle they had formed in a meadow between the trees.

A few dozen men were scattered around the area, fires lighting the dark night while shades of red and orange flickered, creating fiery, dancing shades. You held a torch and carefully waved it in front of you, looking at the faces who watched you back eagerly.

You saw in your men what was brewing inside you: despair, defeat, sorrow. All your souls grieving in unison — all of you had lost someone that day.

At six and twenty, you did not expect to be in this position. You were the youngest daughter of the Overlord — you were never meant to lead your people. The task ahead of you felt titanic, unachievable.

But you had no other option. General Marcus Acacius had forced your hand.

He came, he saw, he conquered.

And now you had to deal with the gut-wrenching outcome of his departure.

“We’ll go back home to Inbhir Nis. But before that, we must give burial to our people.” You had to make a herculean effort to infuse your tone with steadiness.

Torcall first, and then the rest, bowed their heads to you.

“As you command, mo bana-phrionnsa”, he replied, and quickly barked orders around in your stead.

Your chest felt heavy with responsibility and grief. What pained you the most was not being able to carry your brothers and sister with you back home. They would not be buried under the cairns near you family home with the rest of your ancestors.

And what was worst — thousands of lives now depended on you. The weight of your tribe's destiny heavily rested on your shoulders now, like Atlas carrying the heavens.

Maisie, Aodh and Somhairle had been lined up on a patch of wildflowers that you had picked yourself the night prior — their arms were threaded together with your sister in the middle. Your clansmen had also surrounded the makeshift burial pit with wood to aid the combustion.

As you placed the last stone on top of them, you also deposited a bright, bloomed thistle. The flower that blossomed in every nook and cranny of your beautiful motherland, despite the harsh winter or conditions it faced. Like the phoenix rising from the ashes, it would always come back, stronger and more brightful than ever.

Devotion, bravery, determination, and strength — the thistle was a badge of honour for the Caledonians.

With a renewed brawn unbeknownst to you, you threw the lighted torch and watched as the fire consumed the bodies underneath the stones.

There were no tears left within you. Only purpose and resolution.

The way back to Inbhir Nis was tiring and soul-crushing. Hiking through the Cairngorms had been a difficult task with so many people behind you, but luckily you all managed to make it through without any losses.

With each mile covered, you saw the devastation left behind by the Romans. If this was any indication of what awaited ahead, you should start bracing yourself for what you would see. It seemed that the Romans were set towards the northwest — Inbhir Nis was right in their path.

You quickly recognised the landscape as you walked towards Loch Moy. A thick, dark column of smoke towered above the pine trees. Your heart raced as you picked up your dark green skirt and ran towards the loch, ignoring the calls of your brother-in-law.

You could run through those woods blindly — this was the land where you were born, the land you were named after. Your name was an unusual one — Caledonia, in honour of the earth beneath your rushing feet. Just a few people called you Callie, mainly your family and closest friends. With your bright, fiery red hair, green almond eyes and a face dotted with freckles, you were the epitome of your people. That was probably why when someone new learned your name, they always said it suited you.

Dodging the last few trees, you made it to the edge of the loch. In the shallows, the crannog of Naimh, your community’s healer, was burning down to its foundation. You covered your mouth with a sombre expression, your eyes itchy because of the dense smoke and unspent tears.

The Romans had gotten to your settlement before you did.

“Callie, wait up”, said Torcall behind you, struggling to catch up with you.

He halted right behind you, the silence between you was almost tangible.

“The rangers have returned from their reconnaissance mission.” His voice was plain, contained. You turned your heard towards him, slowly, hardening yourself for his next words. “Your mother is dead.”

The last glimmer of hope within you vanished. A single tear skidded through your cheek — angrily, you wiped it off.

You were alone in this world. Everyone you cared for had been taken from you.

“Is everything to your liking, Dominus (Master)?”, the male roman servant asked in a low hush, head bowed, eyes fixed on the cobblestone.

“Yes, now leave”, Marcus dismissed him with a wave of his hand.

The General looked around him with a mixture of curiosity and disgust. He was accustomed to much more elegant surroundings. Although the barbarians did try, their architecture was nothing in comparison to Rome’s.

The castle he was in was small and it only had two floors. It was mainly made of sturdy, grey rocks and dark wood. The design was not very sophisticated, all square and rugged edges. It had two towers and a barbican. The decoration inside was bare, with just enough furniture and no luxuries.

The only warmth was brought by the colourful tapestries adorning the cold, thick walls — one had caught Marcus' attention at his arrival when he first entered the dais. It told a story he had not heard before.

A dragon-like figure lurked beneath the rippling surface of a lake, attracting the attention of the villagers. At dusk it would emerge, a guttural sound echoing in the dead of night, as if it was calling another. Any bìrlinns (wooden vessel) left on the shore would appear destroyed the next morning. Fishermen were worried and called upon the town's druids, afraid of the Loch Ness monster. To appease the beast, every full moon, the druids would whorship the creature, bringing oblations and sacrificies to quench its thirst.

Marcus made a mental note of keeping his distance from that Loch Ness. As a devoted Roman, he was wary of the mystic creatures that skulked in the depths of human fear.

Although he missed his home, he had several debts to pay. The Emperor would not accept no for an answer, so he had to be a reluctant participant in this incursion — in fact, neither Domitian nor Agricola had really asked him to tame the highlanders up in Caledonia. They knew his skills would be most needed in combat, having been praised by bards and poets alike after his many years in the battlefield.

At eight and forty, Marcus Acacius had had his good share of tragedy and death, both personal and in war. His life had not been easy, having to forge a name of his own since childbirth and then having been recently betrayed by his own spouse.

The thought of Livia still angered him — she had had the audacity of blaming him for her infidelity, accusing him of always being away, of loving Rome more than his own family. Her cheating had been going on for as many years as their arranged marriage, throwing a doubtful shade on his paternity to both his children.

His life had come crumbling down in the last few months, so maybe coming to Britannia had not been such a bad idea. Female adultery was a crime penalised with death and that was a decision that Marcus had yet to make — outing Livia’s unfaithfulness would condemn her to Pluto's realm. Did he really want that for who had been his wife for more than thirty years?

Pinching the bridge of his hooked nose, Marcus walked towards the only window in the room. The roman took a deep breath and exhaled steadily — he needed to think of something else.

His mind went back to the battle of Mons Graupius. The spilling of blood never became easier with time — if anything, it had become harder, splintering his soul further. If he closed his eyes, he could still hear the piercing, pained shriek of a woman as he imparted death on Murdoch of Inbhir Nis.

Her hair was dyed with black soot and tied back, her face covered in a blue paste and ash. He was too far to catch the colour of her eyes, but he thought them dark azure. The fierceness of her expression took him aback, her voice shouting a word he did not recognise. But his eyes did not have time to linger on the feral woman a few yards away, because a savage attacked him.

His hand stilled on the rocky window’s sill. The barbarians called this place Inbhir Nis. The stone castle was that of the chief’s family, atop of a hill with views to the scenery underneath. It was rudimentary and lacked many commodities — nothing comparable to his villa in Rome. The tribal settlement was formed of huts made of stone, timber and hay.

Agricola had decided to burn down the outskirts of the town and killed the wife of the clan chief making a macabre example of her, so the people would submit to the Roman’s yoke quickly, crushing any opportunity of rebellion. The message was clear: Rome would not tolerate being challenged. Anyone who did, would face the most painful of deaths. The governor left to go northward, leaving Marcus behind to rebuild the area to Rome’s standards. The emperor had deemed the location an important enclave for his empire, being the main town in the Moray Firth.

Marcus was standing in what he thought was the bedchamber of Murdoch. With the Overlord and his family alienated, the primitive people of the highlands needed educating and he had been given the task of doing so. Not a welcomed one, but he had a duty to Rome that had to be fulfilled.

With a heavy sigh, he undid the brooch at the base of his neck, relieving himself of the heavy, white sagum (cape) that was part of his attire. He threw it on the uncomfortable bed. He unfastened the golden, laurel-shaped bracelets around his wrists, and then proceeded to undo the tight knots that held his armour in place.

Then a knock on the thick, wooden door broke the silence of the room.

“Come in”, thinking it would be his male servant, he didn’t turn around.

“Dominus, dinner is ready”, a very soft voice with a very marked accent made him look over his shoulder.

A pair of very bright, almond-shaped, emerald-green eyes locked on his, framed by what he would describe as fire hair — so red it looked like a hellish aura crowning your head.

So bright were your eyes, he almost felt his soul being examined by your hypnotising gaze. Marcus had never seen eyes like those.

How dared he stand where your father did? Anger shimmered under your skin, but you kept it in check. When you realised you were holding his gaze for longer than what was appropriate for a servant girl, you averted your eyes, inspecting the stones under your feet.

Torcall called you mad for doing this, but you had made up your mind. If you really wanted to overthrow the Roman General and win back your family’s castle and land, you would need to sew yourself into his everyday life. Gain his trust, learn his secrets and use that information against him. Your people were counting on you for freedom, and you would not allow yourself to disappoint them. Even if it was the last thing you did.

“Who are you?”, his raspy voice filled the atmosphere as he resumed the task of undoing the ties on his armour.

Did he have no shame, undressing himself in front of a maid? Mind you, you were not an innocent servant, having been widowed recently. But still. The romans had no modesty, you assumed.

You had to think quickly. You had learnt that the governor and the general both thought the whole chief’s family dead, so you could not out yourself. A very few, selected people called you Callie, almost always in the intimacy of your home, when strangers were not around. Your nickname was precious to you because it was only used by those you loved.

“My name is Callie, Dominus”, you offered your nickname in a rusty Latin. It had been a while since you had to use a language that was not your native one.

“Callie.” The way your name rolled off his tongue gave you goosebumps. You didn’t like the way he pronounced it — it lingered in his mouth for too long, dragging each letter. You wished your words back, but you couldn't change it now.

Instead of clenching your jaw, you nodded. “Yes, my lord, I’m one of the servant girls who tended to the clan chief’s family before you.” You explained, your head still bowed.

You ventured your eyes up for a second, catching a glimpse of his naked torso. Unconsciously, you pursed your lips. The way your heart pounded loud for that one second made you furrow your brows in confusion.

He might be a gorgeous man, but he was a killer. And you had no taste for soulless murderers, that much you knew about yourself.

“Call my attendant, Atticus, to help me get ready for supper. I have no need of you. And ask the kitchen staff to heat some water and bring it up here.” His tone was emphatic, unwavering.

His rejection, in other circumstances, would have been most welcomed, but you needed him to trust you, to confide in you so you could plot his demise — to destroy him. This was not a good start to your plan, but you needed to play the long game.

“I could certainly help you with a bath now, Dominus, but your wish is my command.” You forced the words out, when in reality you wanted to spit them to his murderous face.

He just nodded in your direction, his movements stiff and measured. “Just my attendant will suffice, now go.”

With your fingers laced on your back, you curtsied, walking backwards towards the door of your father’s bedchamber. You could not seem too eager, or he would become suspicious.

When you were in the corridor with the door closed behind you, you took a deep breath and straightened your back.

You would not take no for an answer. Marcus Acacius would yield to you, whatever the cost.

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[raya-hunter01]

Not My Sister's Keeper Pt 1 & 2

Roman X OC(Kara)

Jey Uso X OC (Tia)

Rating: 18+

Warning: Smut; sex, fluff, couple arguing, Jealousy, infidelity, pregnancy

Roamn’s wife recently left medical school and returned home to save her marriage and travel with him on the road. Upon her return, she finds out things are not what they seem. Her sister is pregnant by her best friend Jey Uso, who is also Roman’s cousin, and her husband is acting suspicious.

What happens when a conversation overhead on a baby monitor blows her world apart?

This first chapter. I posted the ending of the chapter for the seven-sentence challenge.

Pensacola, Fl

Roman's House

Kara's POV

“What’s wrong baby?” I asked my husband Roman as he seemed to be zoning in and out.

“Nothin, I just heard you talking to Terry this morning and I know you miss your friends out there in Boston. I feel like I forced your hand, and I don’t want you to regret your decision to come home.

“Why would I do that, I missed you too and we both agreed on it.”  

“Kara, I’m gone so much, and I don’t want you to look back and regret coming back. I should have made it a priority to come out more to see you,” Roman said as I caressed his face.

“Babe, I could never regret coming back. I did this for us and our family that we’re building. That means more to me than medical school. I can go back when your schedule is lighter,” I reassured him as he sighed.

“I just hate you had to leave, but I promise within the next two years my schedule will be lighter, and we can get a house out there so you can finish school. You have my word, I promise,” Roman said making me smile at the thought of us getting a house in Boston so I could continue school.

“I’m going to hold you to that,” I whispered as our lips met in a passionate kiss.

The past year had been hard on us, previously I had been traveling with Roman on the road. I loved it and I even had a job that allowed me to work from home.  Still with the perfect schedule I longed for more, so I accepted a scholarship to continue my education in studying medicine at Harvard Medical school. 

At first, Roman was supportive and even stood up to my family about me moving to Boston but then the distance began to cause a heavy strain on our marriage.

We would argue more, he became distant almost resentful that I wasn’t on the road with him anymore or at least in Pensacola waiting for him to come home. 

I didn’t see why he just couldn’t be happy and come see me more. That last argument we had when I was in Boston was an eye opener, I was going to lose my husband if we couldn’t find a solution.

-----

Four months Earlier

Boston Massachusetts

Kara’s Condo

“We’re going to have to make a decision, because this isn’t working babe,” Roman said as I felt my heart drop as we calmed down from our weekly facetime sex session.

 “So, what are you saying? Like get a divorce? Are you seeing someone ele.”

“Kara, I would never, I’m just sayin’ this is getting to be too much.”

“Why can’t you just come out here more on your off days like we agreed. I mean we started off good then all of sudden visits became few and far in between,” I said as Roman frowned sitting up in bed pulling the comforter over his waist.

“I know what we agreed, but I got more stuff on my plate now baby. I can’t help that and then I have stuff to take care of things here in Pensacola when I’m off,” Roman said as I nodded in understanding wiping my tears as he looked at me sadly.

Ugh, Facetime was not the way I wanted to discuss this. We needed to talk in person.

“I swear I’m not saying this to make you cry, baby. Please don’t cry, I’m sorry, ok,” Roman pleaded as I tried to gather myself, sitting up and grabbing my phone.

“No, you have a right to say how you feel, and I understand it,” I whispered as he pinched the bridge of his nose.

“Kara, I’m just frustrated and miss you so fuckin’ much. We gotta work something out because I can’t take much more of this, especially coming home to an empty house” he whispered as I wiped my tears.

“I miss you too……. We’ll figure something out….I promise.”

The rest as they say is history, a few days later I left medical school behind and surprised Roman by joining him on the road and never went back to school.

Being back on the road with him and in our routine felt good. I knew I was where I belonged, and I felt safe wrapped up in his arms, but I also knew deep in my gut something was wrong, I just didn’t know what.

I couldn’t worry about that today though, it was an important day for Jey and my sister.

“We need to get dressed, babe,” I said stealing one last kiss as Roman caressed my stomach.

“A’ight but I’m ready for this to be over so we can come home and work on our own family,” he whispered in my neck as I blushed.

I truly did love this man and I couldn’t wait to have babies and more babies with him.

------

Tia’s Baby Shower

Kara’s POV

“How are you feeling, sis?”

“I’m feeling very loved,” Tia said rubbing her stomach as I smiled. “We do love you, especially Jey,” I said as Tia looked around nervously.

“Yea, I love my child’s father too,” she said rubbing her stomach, her use of the words felt almost like she was trying to hint about something.

I already knew Jey was the father so what was that about?

Looking at her it seems she in nervous but somewhat happy so I shrugged off her words.

“I can’t thank you enough for this, Kara. It really means a lot to me,” Tia said as I gave her a hug trying to overcome the tension behind us.

“Hey, stop thanking me, I just wanted to throw you my big sister a baby shower. I mean my niece is on the way,” I said as she laughed but her smile didn’t quite reach her eyes.

The dynamics of my family at times could be explosive at times, my parents though married seemed to be just tolerating each other.

For most of our lives my sister and I never got along, and my poor baby brother was always stuck in the middle of it.  

I think the relationship with Jey is a dig at me if I’m being honest. She knew I used to have a crush on him but we both agreed we didn’t want to cross the line and jeopardize our friendship.

Tia acted like she couldn’t stand Jey for all these years and then all of a sudden, she took an interest in him about ten months ago. Then a couple weeks later announces she’s pregnant with his baby.

 I think myy sister’s pregnancy was actually the boost I think we all needed to try to be a somewhat functioning family.

I would say today was a success as our family and friends got together to celebrate the pending arrival of my niece.

“Bae, I’m heading to Gram's to get her gifts,” Jey said sticking his head around the corner as Roman walked around him.

“Go ahead, Uce, I’ll help Tia put everything in the nursery,” he said as Tia avoided making eye contact with Jey and was looking at my husband with a smile.

“Oh, that would be nice, my sister is so lucky to have you,” she said as Roman looked nervous, rubbing the back of his neck.

What the hell is going on?

“Uh, well it’s my pleasure to help. I mean we are family after all.”

Trying to shake off the awkwardness, I decided to change the subject. “I guess ya’ll can start and I’ll put my pots back in the car, then help ya’ll,” I said as Roman shook his head.

“Nah, I got it, you did enough today. This will only take a second. You can go ahead, and head home, I’ll will meet you there,” he said giving me a hug as I smiled.

Roman was always so caring and loving. His soft lips against mine made me excited for what was to come later.

“I’ll see you at home,” I whispered against his lip he nodded.

“I Can’t wait to get home and take this dress off-”

 Tia cleared her throat as I blushed. “Sorry, I’ll see you in the morning, Tia.”

“I’ll call you later, and thanks for lending Roman to do this heavy lifting,” she joked as I saw Roman was seemingly in another world, avoiding her gaze.

Roman’s POV

“Always Ms. Perfect, I know I’m better than her,” I heard Tia mumble under her breath.

I felt my anger rising as Tia slick threw shots at Kara under her breath. Matter of fact, she had been throwing shots all day.

“What the fuck is your problem?!” I yelled as soon as Kara left, causing Tia to smirk.

“What are you talking about, I don’t have a problem, baby,” she chuckled as I snarled.

 “First off, I ain’t your baby and you know what you been doing all day to Kara.

“Oh, God forbid anyone upsets Kara. Oh, you so concerned about her now, but you damn sure wasn'’t when you were fuckin’ me,” she hissed stalking off upstairs as I growled snatching a few gifts off the table and following her.

“Look, I fucked up, and we slept together a few times. Stop trying to make it seem like it was some big love affair. I love Kara and that will never change I said as we walked into the nursery.

“A fuck up is one time, we slept together I know at least six times stop trying to lessen the blow of your actions and own it. I came on to you, and you took everything I had to give,’ Tia said smirking at my uneasiness.

“Look, I love my wife-”

“Yet, you were fucking me…. Her sister, and your cousin’s girlfriend.

“Ok, now that’s bullshit in itself, now you wanna act high and mighty. You only got with Jey to cover yo’ ass; he thinks he got you pregnant off of a one-night stand.”

“I wanted and still want to be with you, but you want her!  What was I supposed to do!” Tia yelled, frustrating me even more.

“Not bring other people into this shit and play with their feelings!”

“I ain’t playin’ with his feelings, I do love Jey,” she said as I scoffed at the bullshit she was spewing.

“Don’t do that shit Roman, we both agreed it was best if he and I raised the baby. You want to be with Kara, right?”

“No, you decided that shit, all by yourself and Jey doesn’t deserve this no more than Kara does!” I shouted trying to get my point across.

“So, what are you sayin? You got a conscious now!” Tia hissed as I growled.

“I’m sayin’ that I’m over this shit, and I’m telling Kara!”

“You really ready to risk losing everything now?!  We both Know Kara will leave you if she finds out.

“I have to tell her-”

“Look, I’m trying to compromise here. Just give me stipend and be a loving uncle to this baby. I promise you can see her whenever you like or say the word and we can be a family together.”

“I’m not her uncle, I’m her father, and even if I lose everything, we aren’t going to be together, Tia. We can co-parent,” I said laying it all out on the line.

“I’ve accepted that, why do you think I’m with Jey. Now you wanna fuck that up for me,” Tia whispered as I felt even more guilty.

We shouldn’t even be discussing this shit now, but it was like we couldn’t stop. It had been a long time since we had been able to talk alone besides on the phone when Kara or Jey weren’t around.

----

Kara’s POV

“Damn, how the hell did I leave my purse?” I muttered walking back inside my sister’s living room, retrieving it.

“You know Kara means the world to me,” I heard Roman say as I smiled picking up the baby monitor, listening to him talk to my sister as they put away some of her baby shower gifts in the nursery; “And I love Jey, that’s why neither one of them can find out you’re the father of this baby.

The silence after Tia's statement defining.

"F-Father," I gasped in shock trying to catch my breath as I waited to hear Roman deny Tia's claim, but it didn't come...Just silence.

I couldn’t breathe, it was as if those words seemed to be stuck on repeat in my mind and it wouldn't stop. “You’re the father of this baby.”

My eyes widened in horror as I lost my footing, collapsing onto the floor, looking at the baby monitor's red lights flashing.

Roman was the father of my sister’s baby.

“Jey is going to find out sooner or later and so is Kara. They ain’t dumb!” Roman hissed as I felt like I wanted to vomit, my breathing shallow as I tried to process what was happening.

“Aye, Tia, I’m back!” I heard Jey yell as I snapped out of the daze I was stuck in and ran out the back door, trying to avoid him.

Jey’s POV

"Tia, I said i'm back!" I shouted looking around the living room, seeing alot of the gifts still around the living room.

“I see that you are,” Tia said appearing at the top of the stairs, as I frowned at her nervousness.

“Why you look so nervous?" I asked sitting down her gift from my grandmother.

 “Roman, Jey’s back!” she yelled, ignoring my question as I heard her voice echo.

“What the hell was that?” I asked as Tia smiled, coming downstairs.

“It’s one of the baby monitors, mama turned it on earlier to show us how it worked. The other one is in the nursery, that’s the echo you heard.” she said as I nodded in understanding.

“Oh, that’s cool we need that for when we need some alone time so we can still hear lil mama in her room,” I said as she laughed.

“You are so silly,” she whispered as I looked around for Kara.  “Kara still here? I need to talk to her about something, I saw her car out front,” I said as Tia shook her head.

 “No, Roman sent her home, matter fact she should be there by now,” Tia said walking over to look out the front door.

“Bae, I’m telling you, I saw her car just a second ago.”

“Are you sure it was her car, it’s not there now,” Tia said as I frowned. “Many times, I done rode in that car, I know my best friend’s car Tia,” I said annoyed at her assumption that I didn’t know what I saw.

“Maybe she had forgot something,” Tia said as I tried to shake the feeling, she was hiding something as Roman finally joined us downstairs.

“Since you back Jey, I’mma head out. Kara is waiting for me at home,” Roman said as I smiled.

“Uce, ya’ll probably will get home at the same time. I just saw her car parked out front,” I said as Roman’s smile dropped.

“Huh, Kara left bout thirty minutes ago,” Roman said looking at his watch as I shrugged my shoulders.

Nah, try five minutes ago, give or take," I said as Tia looked worried.

“Was her car where she parked earlier?” Roman asked as I shook my head.

“No, she was parked out by the street.”

Roman seemed to go white as a ghost and Tia began pacing.

“Uh, I’ll leave ya’ll alone, I need to get home,” Roman said as I followed him to the door. He seemed to be antsy and dare, I say scared.

“Let me me walk you out, Uce.”

“Nah, I’ll see you later fam, I got it,” Roman said walking to his truck as I closed the door.

Damn what had him spooked?

Kara’s POV

I knew I couldn’t go home, if I did, I would kill him…I really would kill him. I parked down the street from my parents and then made my way to their guest house. I didn’t want anyone to see me, not right now.

I was falling apart and needed time to think, this couldn’t be happening it seemed like the minute I closed the door the dam broke as I screamed breaking down in tears sliding down the wall.

“Why him?” I cried overwhelmed by the betrayal of my husband and my sister. The darkness surrounding me, only visible light was from my phone as Roman and Tia had been blowing my phone up.

Not knowing or caring which one it was I accepted the call just wanting the ringing to stop.

“Sis, is that you? Roman has been trying to call you, he’s worried, you weren’t home when he got-.”

 Ending the call without saying a word, I thew the phone hard as I could against the mirror on my parents’ wall. Almost feeling a sense of satisfaction as it shattered into tiny pieces just like my heart had .

“Sis?” I laughed at the gall wiping my tears… “You ain’t no sister of mine,” I whispered, my heart straining against my chest as I tried to control my breathing.

 Every look, nervous movements and awkward exchanges between them played over and over in my mind.

“Sweetie, are you ok? I saw you come back her and I heard a crash,” my mom said coming into the guesthouse, turning on the lights as I scurried to the corner pulling my knees to my chest whipping my tears.

“I’m fine mama, can you please leave,” I whispered as she gasped at my current state.

“Bill! Get in here!” my mother yelled as I shook my head. I didn’t want to talk about it; I knew if I did the tears would come harder.

“Mama, I just want to be alone, please,” I sniffed as she came over to me. “Who hurt you baby?” she whispered kneeling down, taking me in her arms as I sobbed my heart out.

“What the hell is going on?!” my father bellowed coming in seeing my mother and I on the floor, locked in a comforting embrace and the glass on the floor.

“Don’t freak her out, calm down Bill, we don’t even know what’s wrong.”

“Well, something fuckin’ happened Rebecca, and I want to know what it is. She in here breaking mirrors and hysterical,” he said as mother sighed pulling out her phone.

“Maybe Tia can tell me, let me call her-”

“Don’t! Don’t ever call her asking her nothing about me!” I screamed hysterically as my mother looked at me in shock.

I jerked away, her touch scorching my skin. Hurrying to my feet, trying to make my exit, but my dad stood in the way.

“This is not like you sweetie. What happened?” my mom asked, rubbing my shoulders as my father and her tried to calm me down.

“Kara, what is going on baby, did something happen between you and your sister?”

“Dad, please just drop it, ok,” I pleaded retrieving my phone, and wiping my tears.

“Let’s give her a little space to breathe Bill,” my mom whispered as I felt myself losing it slowly but surely.

Hearing a car pull in the driveway I went back into flight or fight mode. “Dad, please move, I need to go,” I pleaded as he stood steadfast, unmovable.

“Baby I can’t let you drive like this, let’s just sit down and talk” he suggested as I shook my head.

“I don’t feel like talking daddy,” I said as my mom sighed.

“Dad?! Mom?! We’re here to pick up the crib!” I heard Tia shout my blood ran cold.

The crib we slept in as kids….That crib?

“We’re in here baby,” my mom called out as I cringed as Tia and Jey in came in the guesthouse.

“Aye, you ok Kara?” Jey asked taking in my appearance. I didn’t even care how I looked right now; my eyes were focused on Tia who looked scared to death.

“Maybe we should come back Jey,” she whispered trying to get a feel of what was going on.

“No, I’m good, come in,” I said as she sighed in relief, thinking her secret was still safe.

“Mom, dad, can you leave? I need to talk Tia,” I said as my dad looked between us unsure of my request but threw his hands up.

“Fine, let’s go up to the main house Rebecca and let the girls talk.”

“I think we should stay Bill; something is wrong.”

“Nothing is wrong mama,” Tia said as I nodded my head in agreement.

 “It’s right as rain,” I added as my dad sighed.

“Least she’s willing to talk to Tia, let’s let them talk,” he said ushering my mom out of the room.

“What did you do Tia?” my mom asked as Tia lowered her head in shame as dad closed the door behind them.

“Do you need me to leave Kara?” Jey asked as I shook my head no.

“No, it involves you just as much as it does me,” I whispered as he caressed my shoulder.

“What happened baby girl?” he asked as I looked at Tia trying to see if she would confess but she just stood there as if nothing was wrong.

Jey had to know, I know it wasn’t my place, but he needed to know.

“Girl, you had Roman worried and so was I when he told me you weren’t home. I’m so glad you were here and safe. We thought something had happened to you,” she said as I chuckled at her weak attempt to change the subject.

“Oh, I’m fine….I just needed some time to process some stuff. The problem with that is I only ended up having more questions and I know you know the answers,” I whispered as Jey looked at me confused.

“Questions about what Kara?” Jey asked, looking between Tia and I, picking up on undeniable tension.

“Jey, can you leave Kara and I alone to ta-”

“Jey, stay because I know you’re going to want to know the answers to these questions too.”

"Jey, please leave us,” Tia whispered.

"When were you going to tell me that not only has you been FUCKING my husband, but you're carrying his baby?" I asked calmly as Tia gripped the counter trying to steady herself.

You could hear a pin drop as Jey looked at Tia for any sign of truth to my words.

“Wh…W..What are you talking about Kara?” Tia stuttered as I scoffed at the deer caught in the headlights look on her face.

“Tia, what is Kara talking about?” Jey asked, my heart truly went out to my best friend. He deserved the world, but he always chose the wrong ones to love.

“I don’t know Jey, she isn’t thinking clearly,” Tia said as I rolled my eyes.

“Tia! Words of advice, when you are confessing your dirt and playing God with someone else’s life, make sure the baby monitors aren’t on, projecting your conversations throughout the fuckin’ house, dumb ass!” I hissed as she covered her mouth in shock.

“Ok, let’s calm down lau pele, talk to me, because you ain’t makin’  no sense right now,” Jey said gently pulling me to him.

“I’m sorry Jey, but that isn’t your baby,” I whispered as Tia began sobbing.

“Jey, I can explain-”

“Logan is my daughter, what you sayin to me’?”  he asked, looking between Tia and I, his eyes full of tears.

“Tell him…For once in your miserable life, tell the truth,” I said truly done with the lies.

“Jey, Just listen-”

“Is she mine?” Jey whispered walking closer to Tia as she began to figet wrapping her arms around herself.

“Jey, please, baby-”

“Is she mine, damn it!" Jey screamed as I jumped at the anger and hurt in his voice.

"No!...She’s Roman’s” she whimpered as Jey trembled with anger.

“I am so sorry,” I whispered as he pinched his nose trying to stop his tears from falling but to no avail and began pacing.

“It ain’t yo’ fault Kara…. I shoulda' known betta right? He asked, my heart breaking for him.

“I…..I didn’t mean for it to happen, Kara was gone, Roman and I were spending more time together on the road and it just happened.”

“So, in other words when I was gone, you made a move on him,” I said as she sighed.

“Look you left him, and he needed somebody.”

“How could you do that to Kara?” Jey said as Tia wiped her tears.

“Cause she’s willing…Willing to bed flop with anything that moves and I fuckin’ hate you for it Tia,” I cried wanting to give her this work but I knew I couldn’t.

“I tried to make it right-”

“Oh, that’s right, you slept with me and then told me I got you pregnant,” Jey said as I cringed at how he described it, but it was true.

“Where did you do it?” I asked as Tia subconsciously rubbed her belly.

“Don’t do this Kara?” Tia whispered as I scoffed.

“In my house?.....In my bed?” I asked with a whimper as she shook her head.

“No! As much as things haven’t always been good between us, I would never do that,” she cried as I tried to piece together their intimate moments.

“His bus?” I whispered as she nodded. I felt like I couldn’t breathe, now we were getting somewhere.

“The first night of the UK tour when I couldn’t reach him, he was with you wasn’t he?” I asked as she dropped her head in shame.

“That night you left the show early proclaiming you were sick,” Jey added as she nodded.

“Oh my god I’m going to be sick,” I whispered.

“I swear it’s over, Roman loves you and only you. That’s why we did this!” Tia cried as Jey exploded flipping the couch and storming outta the house.

“Jey! Don’t leave!" Tia cried as I grabbed my keys preparing to leave as well. I had heard and seen enough.

“Actions have consequences Tia. That was one of them, a good man walking out of your life….A new life about to be born," I said pointing at her stomach.

"Kara-"

"Your dead to me,” I whispered, heading for the door as she jumped in front of me.

“Kara, just listen-”

“Don’t call…Don’t text…Don’t come by my home… I never want to see you again,” I said as she gasped, falling against me and grunting in pain.

"Get off of me Tia!" I shouted as she held onto me to steady herself, but I didn't push her away.

 “Kara, my water just broke” she cried as I looked down seeing at the small puddle at her feet.

Are you serious right now? This cannot be happening.....

Taglist:

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@melaninsugababy @romanreignkisser @bebesobrielo

@arination99 @2-muchsauce @bakugoumarianawrites

@empressdede @alyyaanna @christinabae @harmshake @anonandwannakeepitthatway @venusesworld @jeyusosgirl  @theninthwonder @mya2real  @justazzi @whatdoeseverybodywant @reignsboy19 wooahmiri alichesmi pytbgeezy @ superpietom 

@truefant4sy @yana3sworld amandairene88

[333creolelady]

Lady Of The Blue Bakunawa Ch.8

Roman Reigns (Pirate) X Black Afab! OC

Warnings: Mentions of su*c*dal ideation, use of the word Su*c*de, Death of animal, Gore, Cursing, Water accidents, Scary creatures, Angst (with fluff). Paranoia. This is a lengthy one guys.

Official Story Playlist link Here

Alternative Playlist link Here

Chapter 7 <-

Next chapter : TBA ->

Official story PL songs this chapter: Igloo, Will you help me, Going in, The sixth station, Too close, The Legend of Ashitaka

Alternative songs this chapter: Slow life, St Jude, Nothing but trouble, Time, Nice Dream, Motion picture soundtrack, Suzanne

Cover by: @joannasteez

Tags for those who asked about new chapter: @2-muchsauce @sortudademais @joannasteez

Roman POV

Roman sat on the Cabin floor watching Jane sleep in his arms while wearing her soaking wet clothes. His fingers brushed the sides of her face as he recalls the day he met her. It was much like this but in somewhat different circumstances. He could only describe this place as the feeling of being in a dream. Disconnected from his body, perhaps floating above it but still present. Tunnel visioned.

He remembers the feel of her heart racing against his flesh as they stared at the Dragon head on. Facing one’s own mortality was a humbling experience. He was as terrified as she was. He found no point in trying to avoid what would happen. All he could do was accept their ending. At least he would meet his end holding the woman he loved. Had he been alone, he wasn’t so sure if he would have accepted his fate so easily.But to have death graze his flesh and beckon him forward? To feel his soul bend, twist,and tear from his flesh. To feel the crash of the boat, the frigid water, the splintered wood. To feel the terror and the despair. It was simply unimaginable.

Through it all, he blanketed himself around her the best way he could. Reality bent around them. Screams of terror echoed in the gut of the beast. Her fingers clung to him and his to hers. They flipped, spinned, whirled, and were ultimately swallowed and submerged. And then…they were spat out into what could only be described as uncharted land.

It would seem as though this place was not of the world. It was foreign, alien, different. From what he could see out of the window, even the sand was a different color from what he was used to.

Some of his comrades woke up laying outside of the ship on the sand bed, others were still inside of the splintered ship. Jane and Himself ended up on the cabin floor, him at the door and her in the back of the room. He crawled towards her, ignoring the calls for him in the distance. He hadn’t moved a muscle and wouldn’t until he saw the light come back into her eyes again.

As she slept peacefully, her key was warm and glowing. He suspected that the dragon spared them because of that key. However, as long as she wore it, her life would be in danger. Her body was littered with bleeding scratches and deep purple bruises. His skin suffered the same fate. It felt like the boat itself had been ripped apart and then miraculously put back together.

An unrecognizable sense of gratitude washed over him when he saw her in their room, banged up but unscathed. To know that she had been spared. To know that he will feel his mouth on hers again, he will hear her voice, see her smile, feel her skin. Gratitude…sheer gratitude to be alive. Grateful to feel the heart beating in his chest, to hear waves crashing, to feel the dampness of his clothes. Grateful to be alive. Grateful to know the story didn’t end here. That they still had time. Yet, he was fearful of something that he could not place.

He could only surmise it as the fear of God. The same fear of God that many people around him possessed that he didn't quite understand before.. He never feared death. He didn’t have a particular God that he believed in or a religion he subscribed to. But some force…be it the Dragon, Universe, or something else entirely…spared him. He was spared and it was riveting and terrifying. Terrifying to be acquainted with the Black, quiet, stillness of Death and to be pulled out of it in an instant — reborn like a child.

Jane woke with a gasp calling his name, “ Roman…Roman ”, she rasped. The salt had burned her throat. His name was the first word she spoke after such a horrific thing. Almost as if her thoughts of him hadn’t stopped in her slumber.

“ You’re alive. We’re alive Jane”, he whispered in the crook of her neck.

“ Are you…are you sure ?”, she sniffled. He hummed against her cheek, pressing soft kisses to it.

Roman shrugs.“ The universe knew I promised you that ice cream ”, he chuckled. A cautious smile spread over her face as she finally opened her eyes. She cracked them open, blinking slowly to adjust to the light of the room. Her brown orbs looked around the cabin and then finally they focused on him, her pupils dilating in size when she saw his face. She smiled sweetly at him and him at her.

He could see that same gratitude on her face as well. “ I’m happy to be alive”, she whispered softly, closing her eyes again. And knowing what he knew now about Jane, that wasn’t always the case. He grateful for it.

“ I’m happy to be alive with you”, he said quietly. He pulls him to her with ease, and places her in his lap. They embrace in a comfortable silence. She pulled away holding his face..“ What will we do? Where are we? How will we get out of here ?”

“ I’m not sure.I don’t know. We still have a map. The compass is spinning on itself constantly. I don’t know if we’re actually anywhere …?”, said Roman. His face mirrored the same confusion as her own.

“ What do you mean ?”

“ I mean…I don’t think we’re in a place that’s to be considered…Worldly. ”

“ Worldy..”, she tried the words on her lips.

“ Yes…do you remember what happened ?”

“ I remember feeling like I was falling and now I'm here.”

“ The Dragon…?”, he hinted. Her eyes widened in terror thinking back to that fateful night on the boat. He adds, “ I don’t think we’re in some distant ocean anymore Jane. I think we’re inside the Dragon.”

A peculiar questioning look danced on her face as if she was not entirely convinced. She went to stand and Roman followed suit. She looked around the drenched cabin, looking at the ruined items.

“ If we get out of here, what I buy for you will pale in comparison to what you own now. Don’t worry, Dove.”

“ It’s not just my things Roman…yours too. All of it. All our belongings. Things that cannot be replaced.”

He looks at his soaked booked collection with pages ripped out. The room resembled the aftermath of a poltergeist “ Were alive…it’s all that matters. We will have more memories to make.”

“Not if we can’t leave this place”, she warned.

A voice calls out in the distance. “ Is she awake ??!”

The two walk out of the cabin to see Caden standing outside with a worried look. He rushes to inspect her. “ Are you alright ?? You were the last to wake up.”

“ I’m okay. No worries”, she urged, squeezing his hand in reassurance. Other voices call to for Roman��s attention.

“ Cap!!!!!’ “

“ Captain! “

“ Cap’n!”

Jane POV

Jane looked at him knowingly, not minding that he was clearly needed by his crew. He looks at her hesitantly.. a look that says “are you sure you’re okay?”. She smiles knowingly and nudges his arm in approval. He kisses her temple and heads back down to the sand to assist his men.

“ How long has it been?”, she asks Caden.

“ We’ve been here since the Sun was the highest. We are a couple hours from sunset I believe.”

“ That’s no good. It will get cold fast”, she warned

“ A couple of the men are in the tree line trying to find some dry wood to burn. We’ve found a few pieces.”

“ Was any food salvaged?”

“ Half of the jarred items. We don’t have enough food to last us on the way back. Maybe 2-3 months if we spread out the meals.”

“ We’ll have to live off the sea if it comes to it. Do we have any fresh water left ?”

“ No, it was lost to the sea. We’ve found a tree bearing fruit with water however”

“ Coconut. It will hold us over here but it won’t last if find a way to journey back. Rainwater will have to do but don’t drink it fresh– lest it turn your stomach. Boil it first”

“ Aye”, Caden leaves her to spread the word to the other members of the ship.

Worry fills her gut. Even if they live off the land and survive here for a few months, they won’t be able to survive the journey back without clean water. Their only hope was Roman—who’s descended from people who lived off the land for centuries. She overheard him explaining which plants were poisonous and which weren’t. He’d already known which fish were the best to eat ..which was helpful. However his memory failed him at times because of how long he’d been removed from his home. Two months without food was difficult but survivable. Without water however? Impending Death. The ship needed repairs that could take months to actually finish. This situation was impossible. Was the treasure really worth it if they wouldn’t live long enough to see use it ?

Instead of mentally spiraling she decides to start collecting personal items and mementos from the shore, sorting them into a large pile. She sees Roman in the distance talking with such conviction and frustration. Everybody looked so tired. Perhaps being reunited with their photos and personal belongings would bring them back some cheer.

She focused on her task until nightfall. Some of the men were able to find some dried wood behind the tree line and made a sizable bonfire. Everybody gathered around it. She walked through the crowd trying to find her love. Roman was on the opposite side, adding more wood to the flame. The heaviness of his eyes subsided when he saw her. She rushed over to his side, gluing herself to it like a second skin. She could feel his muscles relax as he wrapped his free hand around her waist. Things were bad but with him near…it was all manageable. She’d never felt that way about anyone before. “ Hungry?” He asks her. She nods.

One thing about living on the sea, every man had experience with fishing. Tonight they found a plethora of sea creatures to eat. Fish, crabs, muscles, a few lobsters, and even a baby squid. They pushed everything on sticks and broiled it over the fire before tearing it away with their teeth. Everyone was so hungry that barely anyone spoke but a few words during dinner. Too sun drunk and hungry to care about anything.

Roman fed her pieces of raw fish…the safe ones of course. She only really agreed to it because it was an excuse to feel his fingers in her mouth. She bit him playfully during the bigger bites which made him twitch away before his eyes darkened.

“ Oh how lucky you are that we have no room to ourselves”, he warned quietly. She chuckled quietly.Coming so close to death and being stranded had changed her feelings about many things. She smiled knowingly. If they made it out of this…the things she would let him do…

Her mind turned back to their current issue at hand. Food. Water. Fire. Boat. Treasure— in no order.

“ Do we have a plan?”, Caleb asked out loud. The men chewed in deep thought.

“ I’ve heard stories that the pirate who finds the treasure gets three wishes. Maybe if we find that treasure we can find a way to get out of here sooner and put an end to all of this ?”, said Cortez.

“ But there’s no way to know for sure. What if we make it there and there is no wish?”, asked Adhar.

“ What do we have left to lose at this point? We’ve already lost everything?”, Said Rory.

“ We have the coconuts and we’ll collect the rainwater. Everybody here can miss a meal… we’ll be okay but we must have the water. The seafood is plentiful..we can eat that along with our rations that we salvaged. I know a few plants that are edible. We can keep searching the forest for fruit”, Roman suggested.

“ What if it doesn’t rain and we run out of coconuts ? And what about the boat?”, said Jane.

“ We can rebuild a boat using the scraps we find. There is plenty of plank wood here from other ship wrecks. If it comes to it we’ll try to start this from scratch”, Said Roman.

Jane winced. “ I don’t know…that could take months.”

“ The time will pass anyway. Everyone is stable for now. We’ve got food and water. All that’s left to do is find that treasure and figure out how to use it to our advantage”, Roman urged.

“ Captain is right. We don’t have much else to lose”, Caden agreed.

Adhar spoke up. “ So when do we go?”,

“ Dawn. We all need rest first”, said Roman.

“ I volunteer my services Cap’n”, Said Rory.

“ As do I”, said William

“ And me.. Obviously ”, says Adhar.

“ And I”, Jane squeezes Roman’s hand reassuringly. She can already see the protest etching itself across Roman’s face. “ Remember..what you promised me.”

Roman sighs in frustration. “ I know…but this is more dangerous Jane. We don’t know what could come from this. There could be dangerous animals…poisonous insects. We don’t know what we’re up against.”

“ You feel it..I feel it. Remember ? We do this together. Besides, I have the key. The creature said I can’t take it off unless I open the treasure. I was meant to be by your side for this”, Jane pleads.

Roman looks at her in deep thought, “ I just want to protect you…”, he whispers quietly to her.

“ I know you do. You’ve done the best you can. I can’t ask for a better…”, the words fall short of her lips.

Roman’s brows furrow playfully. “A …Better ?”, he chuckled, wondering what she would say. She didn’t squirm or shy away from his teasing.

“ A better…. Match”, she muttered softly looking down at her half empty coconut.

“ That most certainly works”, he smiled, pouring the rest of his coconut water into her shell.

The rest of the night was filled with strategizing, the occasional chuckle thanks to Rory, and more eating. Rest followed and it came swiftly.

Roman POV

He was up before the sun, stomping out the weak flames left from the bonfire. He checks his map once, twice, thrice. His stomach was turning with an unexplainable anxiousness. This treasure would determine if everything was worth it.

If he was a better man he would say that finding Jane was the real treasure and to some degree it was. She came into his life and filled it with unimaginable joy. However, now the goal post has moved. It was his duty to make sure that the rest of Jane’s life was spent in comfort. Those riches were no longer his the moment his eyes laid on her and deep down he knew that. She was his greatest weakness and rarest Jewel now. It's said that pirates do not have a weakness for women. The sea was their betrothed, rum was their mistress, a good woman was a small vacation. Jane became an all encompassing paradise even at a time like this.

William awakened next, helping him sharpen blades and swords. Crossbows were prepared, Meat rations organized, Coconut water collected. Extra pairs of shoes and clothes were salvaged. After a brief meeting on the terms and conditions of this journey with his men, he was ready. Roman wakes Jane last and she’s quick to come to her senses, readying herself and her hair for the long journey ahead. He laces her boots for her when she’s done. Her fingers comb through his hair as he takes care of her. He noticed he enjoyed being in servitude to her above all else.

As the sun broke the horizon they headed off into the bushes. Roman was first in line and Jane was immediately behind him. He swatted their path with a machete, sinking deeper into an alien jungle with sounds they’ve never quite heard before.

In all the books he’s read about pirates and treasure, they never seem to emphasize just how much the walk winds you before anything else. 5 miles in heat with patches of sunlight peeking through at just the right moments to singe the skin. Biting gnats, snakes, loud fucking birds screeching every moment of the goddamned day. Breathing feels like being under a blanket. The humidity is dizzying. This part may very well be worse than the boat wreck.

“ Break… please for the love of god”, William groaned.

“ Alright. We’ll stop here until the sun gives some reprieve—Jane”, Roman beckons her to him and hands her some coconut water that he collected in a canister. She takes it gratefully.

“ Not to sound like a wuss but this might as well be soup”, Adhar sighed.

“ Better than nothing”, Jane laughed.

“ I’ll drink to that”, William chuckled

The group set down their bags and supplies to take a much needed rest. Roman checked his compass and it continued spinning just like it had on the boat. He looked at it questionably and put it back into his pocket. Jane caught his expression, sharing the same worried look.

“This was certainly not how I pictured it. Nothing like the rumors I’ve heard”, Rory spoke up.

“And what have you heard ?”, says Jane.

“Myth says that the place that holds the treasure is full of diversions and tricks of the eye”, said Rory.

“Ay… they say that entire crews slaughtered themselves from sheer paranoia”, Cortez warns.

“ Umm, you didn’t think that would have been a helpful piece of information to mention before we’re miles into the jungle”, Jane scoffed.

“ You all forget that many of the rumors that we’ve heard have not been true. Few have held up to their gossip. There is no need to worry yet”, Roman interjects.

“ And if it is?”, says Jane.

Roman’s tone is flippant now. “I’ll cut any tongue that rises against you”.

Jane’s brow raises in suspicion. “Even your own?”

“Especially my own”, Roman smirked.

A mischievous look appears on Jane’s face. “Spare it for me. I’ve grown fond of it.”

Noises of gagging and disgust roll across the group like school children. Jane laughs.

“ Alright you love birds. What we really need to be worried about is what god forsaken creatures lurk in the night “, Adhar warns.

“ Indeed. I’ve heard noises out of nightmares seep from the tree line when we were on the beach. They sound rather large”, says Cortez.

Roman scoffs “ We have enough knives and gunpowder in our inventory to turn whatever that is into beef tartar as far as i'm concerned. Instead of worrying about what’s to come, why don’t you all shut your mouths and preserve your breath. You’re going to need it”, Roman dismissed the crew. Jane playfully saluted him with an “Aye Aye Captain” gesture which he secretly found amusing.

And they indeed needed it. When the sun hid behind the trees they set foot towards the center of the island. The descent was hilly and rocky, requiring core muscles and quick recovery. And then suddenly the terrain changed from a vast jungle to damp, humid, and muddy. Adhar fell on his bottom and the others followed suit eventually. Roman was lucky enough to stay upright, which tickled Jane. She found it peculiar how a man so large seemed to have the balance and agility of a cat.

The night ended cold. They started a fire and put 1 person on guard at a time. Camp was set up and tents were rolled out before everyone had a quick bite to eat. The morning came stiff. Jane pulled herself to her feet, stretching to relieve the ache in her joints. She looked around at the crew. They were all sweaty, dirty, and flushed from the exhaustion and the heat.

Roman holds up a large jar. “I Have pickled eggs if anyone wants breakfast.”

“Yes”, said Jane.

“Thank fuck. I’m starving”, said Adhar.

“Is it your goal to make us shit ourselves in the middle of the damned jungle with so much as a leaf to wipe our asses ?”Rory asked seriously.

“Beggars can’t be choosers”, Cortez shrugged with a smirk.

Roman shook his head. “ Look, It’s either that or beans”, Roman declared.

The entire group groaned at the word beans.

After a painfully humble breakfast, the journey continued for another day. More hot terrins, more mud, more mosquitoes, more sweat. As if the universe finally decided to give the group a break, it started raining again. At first it was welcomed as they all sat in a circle cooling off from such a difficult day of walking. Twenty minutes pass and it’s still pouring hard, so hard that the rain pellets begin to sting. The greenery was sparse in this part of the island which meant there was nowhere to hide. Jane looked to the sky wondering how many more days of this could she endure? Her joints were aching, her hair was dry and brittle, she even had a sun rash. She grew up running barefoot on beaches as a small child, knowing her skin absorbed every bit of the heat that shined down on her. Now her skin was tight and raw like the skin on her lips.

“This was a mistake..” she whispered quietly, head hanging between her crouched knees as she sat on the sparse wet grass.

Maybe life on the boat was treasure enough. Maybe a new found love was the treasure. Maybe a handsome man with generous pockets was the treasure–not this. NOT this.

Roman turned to Jane, just as dried out as her. He didn't look tired like her, strangely enough. He assessed his crew. They were dirty, tired, and sizzling out of the motivation from the reduction of food.

“ Dove.. we are close. Another day or two and we should be there “, He mused.

“ I know, I know. I underestimated this journey is all”, she confessed.

“ We are on the right track… trust. Everything on this map has come to pass”, Roma explains.

Jane turned her defeated eyes to his compass and then back to him warily. She inspected the caked dirt under her nails. Maybe she should have stayed behind but she couldn't rest knowing that he might be in danger. She would be just as miserable back at the beach as she was now. However, she had the key. It would not have mattered anyway.. A deep chuckle tickled her ears and a sneer paused just behind her teeth. She was days shy of her period and incredibly irritable.

“What's so funny?” she snapped at Roman.

He looked at her quizzically. “ I didn't say anything love”, He frowned.

“ I heard you fucking laughing. You think this is funny?”, Jane grew increasingly angry. The laughter played in her head over and over again. Strange inquisitive eyes looked back at her. Did they all think she was a joke for coming on this trip? Better yet, did they find her to be a burden? Someone they always had to look after? Undoubtedly weaker. She could feel her composure cracking. She stood up, gathering her pack and started walking away. Roman was on her heels, calling out to her.

He grabs her forearm and spins her around. Her face is pulled back in a tight annoyance that he’s never seen before. If the circumstances were lighter he would chuckle at the cuteness of it. A slow smile spreads across his face thinking of all the times he would provoke her to annoyance on the boat just to tease her.

“And you have the nerve to do it again?”, she scoffs at that sly smirk. She would melt underneath it had she not been so upset.

“This place is playing tricks on your mind, on your heart and soon your desires I'm sure. Stay focused Jane….there is no time to crack under the pressure”, he reasons.

Her face dropped in confusion and embarrassment. He smiled softly at her, smoothing her hair back under the slick of the rain.

“ It’s not just you.. Adhar believes something is following us. William isn't sleeping. Cortez is talking to himself. Rory is paranoid. As for myself, recurring nightmares that are even worse than when I was on the ship. It’s not just you who’s feeling the pressure. Remember why you’re here. Remember why we did this Jane”, he spoke carefully and firmly in that soft and disarming tone that always unraveled her defenses. She looked behind him at the group. They looked just as defeated. How hasn't she seen it before? How was this place already crumbling their composure? Nothing has happened yet?

“ I- I’m sorry”, She muttered.

“ S’okay. Come. Let’s take a nap. You are over tired and clearly very cranky”, he coaxed.

It pained her to admit to herself that she was indeed tired. She woke up warm and damp from the sun's feeble attempt to dry everything the sky had drenched. Her mood had not lightened. The boys collected rain water and boiled it, bottling it in the leather flasks they brought with them. The hike continued and continued with no breaks in between. Roman was growing increasingly restless and the lack of sleep had not helped. Cortez looked like a zombie and William was silently losing it by the hour. Adhar had gone blank hours ago. Rory was having full conversations with himself. Jane’s paranoia was etched across her face and she wasn't hiding it all that well.

Roman POV

That night they set up camp in a drier terrain and everyone became increasingly withdrawn. Roman sat by the fire with some large insect skewered onto a makeshift shank that he cut from his knife. He twirled it over the fire watching its hairs singe and trickle into the flames. In his peripheral he can see Jane sharpening her knife while looking over her shoulder. She was becoming increasingly hostile and anti-social despite his attempts to settle her. Adhar was rocking back and forth in front of him, staring into the fire. Williams looked anxious, looking over at Jane as if she herself was anywhere near his equal in size and height. Rory was walking in circles angrily, torching large flies that circled the camp. Cortez's eyes darted to him and then Jane's in a worried manner.

Roman began to worry that this journey would end in the bloodshed of one another. In just a few days the crew had become shells of themselves, personifying their worst fears or habits. Was it this island? Was it the hunger? Was it the heat? His thoughts ponder the stories he’d heard in Pubs and Taverns. There were talks trips that ended in bloody murder with crews turning on each other. Other stories said crews went mad and ate each other. It all started to come back to him and soon he realized that he should not have let Jane come.

Suddenly Williams stormed over to Jane and she stood defensively, knife in hand at the ready.

“Give me back my fucking flask”, William sneered at her.

“ I don't have your flask you ignorant Ogre”, Jane snapped.

“ I saw you hide it in your fucking boot. I won't ask again. Give me my flask or so help me I will fucking –”,

Roman shouted, “ Hey ! Cut it out!”

“ Stay away from me. I’ll gut you like a fish if you get any closer!”, Jane warned.

“ That’s it!” William took a step forward pulling Jane's arm which prompted her to slice her blade across his arm drawing blood. Roman sprung into action, tackling William to the ground in a blind rage. He begins to hit him repeatedly. Cortez and Adhar rush to pull him off but his brute strength makes it a task. Jane snaps out of her haze and screams.

“ Roman, stop it!”, she cries. Tears fill her eyes watching William’s bloody face curl in confusion and anger. He wraps his pinned leg around Romans calf and flips him over. Now William is wailing against him but not for long, as Roman pulls William’s face towards his mouth and bites him.

A long, groaning, agonizing, high pitched screech floats through the thick night air. The sound is so distinct that it freezes everybody in place. They all quiet down to inspect– to see if what they just heard was real. Jane’s tearful face is pulled back in fear as she looks at Cortez. Cortez’s eyes are scarily wide, like saucers. He looks past her, staring at something in the distance. She slowly turns her head to look behind her. At first her eyes didn't catch the figure because it was pitched black outside the boundary of light that the fire provided.

However, once her eyes adjusted to the contrast, she could make out the shape of what she assumed was a man. Her eyes started at the feet first. The soles of the black boots were missing, exposing the gray withered feet underneath them. What little clothes were left on the body hung off in shreds which allowed the rotting flesh to peak through underneath them. It was a person, or rather, it once was a person. What once held two healthy eyes were now clouded with blue and gray tones. There was no iris in sight. The skin on the face was pulled tight, exposing the angles of the skull in a harsh light. The nose was half eaten by decay and the top part of its lip was missing, showing rotten upper teeth. The jaw jutted from its skull as it drooled a thick black substance. A gaping hole where its heart should be, mirrored the plants and trees that it stood in front of.

“ C…C”, Jane fought to get a word out. She was paralyzed, jaw slack and frozen with fear.

Before any sudden movement could be made the creature made another shrieking ear piercing cry and darted straight for Jane, knocking her flat on her butt with a thump. It began to claw at her as Jane held her hands out protectively. The men were on it in seconds.

There was no question that 5 men on 1 man would be an easy win. Yet, no matter how many times Roman or William sheathed their knives into the creature, it would continue snarling, roaring, and snapping at the group completely unfazed by the injury. Roman looked just as disturbed as Jane who still sat on the damp ground in shock. In utter disbelief, Roman pulled out his pistol and pressed the barrel against the forehead of the creature. Roman experimentally pulls the trigger and it bursts rotten brain fragments everywhere.

In a quiet shaky voice Cortez whispers “ Amalanhig.”

“ On a scale of 1-10 how fucked are we ?”, Rory groans. He studies the headless corpse on the ground. Another snarl in the distance jolts everyone on their feet. A second scream pushes everyone to grab their packs. A third screech sends multiple bodies of the undead barreling towards them, revealing themselves from behind the treeline.

“ Royally… Run!”, Adhar yells.

Roman hauls over his shoulder. There would be no room for mistakes, tripping, or falling behind. Jane didn’t protest at all, and he could tell by the fear in her face that she would completely disappear from this situation if she could.

Jane POV

What she did not expect was for these creatures to be so fast? They were agile on their feet, snarling and convulsing as they ran after the group. Jane counted 10 and then 20….30 or more? She slipped the gun from Romans holster on his waist and began to shoot with the ammunition he left inside. It was difficult to get a good shot because of the bouncing. Head shots were the only thing that got the creatures to stop. Eventually she was able to take out two of the creatures. Williams pulled his musket from its case and briefly stopped every few meters to shoot. Jane tried to help him as best she could but after a few minutes the men were getting winded and the undead started to gain on them.

“ FUCK!”, Roman snarled angrily.

Cortez called out in a worried winded tone as he sprinted alongside the men, “ If anybody has an idea..now would be a good time to say something!”

Before Roman could say anything Jane shouted, “Trees!”

“ And if they don't disperse!?” Rory shouted over the noise.

“ I smell water. I think there may be a clearing up ahead !”, said Roman

The last 2 minutes to the lake felt like ages. William nearly got bit and Jane ran out of gunpowder. Guns were to be used sparingly.

“ I see it! just up ahead guys!”, Adhar yells. Jane turns her neck to look behind her. A paddle boat can be seen in the distance. Jane could feel a scream rising in her throat thinking of all the things that could go wrong in these next pivotal moments. She whimpered, “ The boat isn’t big enough!”

“ I’ll push and you all paddle. You stay in that boat. Do you hear me?!”, Roman scolded. He could see the wheels turning in her head. He needed to ensure her safety.

The group descended into the water like a life raft. Roman harshly shoved Jane into the boat, in fear that she would protest or try to help him. Only 5 people could fit inside the paddle boat. Roman pushed the boat deeper into the water as quickly as he could. The creatures descended into the shallow shore, heavy on his tail. Rory and Adhar picked up the oars and began to row to add to the momentum. Just before Jane could let out a breath of relief, Roman is pulled under the water by the dozens of creatures that had sunken to the bottom. A blood curdling scream spills from Jane’s mouth,“ ROMAN NO!! NOO!!!!”. She lunges for the water but William holds her back.

“ LET GO OF ME! FUCKING LET GO!!”, She screeches as she tries to throw her legs over the side of the boat. She is no match for William’s strength.

William’s face hardens, “Captain's orders, nothing is to happen to you”, he explains.

“ You won’t have a Captain to take orders from if you do nothing!!”, She cries.

“ We swore to Roman to protect you and that’s just what we’ll do”, says Rory. His eyes were filled with tears as he continued to push the oar in sync with Cortez.

Jane looked around in disbelief. It would seem that she was out of the loop on this agreement. She kept checking the water for signs of him. Signs that he would spring back up. Unfortunately there was a heavy fog that persisted across the entirety of the lake and the shore had disappeared behind it.

After five minutes there was no sign of him as the night fell quiet and the groans of the creatures were distant and far away. The group was completely silent, all looking ahead with solemn expressions. All she heard was the oars hitting the water and the sound of her heartbeat in her ears. An unimaginable wail spilled from her mouth so violently that she had to brace her hands on her knees. The panic and grief washed over her in unrelenting waves as she looked around in disbelief. She could not catch her breath. She could not hold in the pain and the betrayal of his sacrifice.

“ He– this cant... I can’t. —”, she hiccuped. She began to feel dizzy. William pressed both of his hands on her shoulders. Adhar looked at her with a worried expression.

“ Breath Jane…. ”

Williams' attempts at calming Jane were useless. It was a second. She was in his arms moments before this and now he was gone? She blinked and he was gone? She was trembling now. There was nothing she could do. There was nothing that would change this. She sobbed despite the kind words that the group tried to pacify her with. What followed was a numbing silence.

She had no interest in finding the treasure now. She never really cared about the treasure. She came along with Roman because she had fallen in love with him. This was Roman’s dream. This was Roman’s story and she was happily a supporting character in it. What could any of this mean? What was the point of her falling for this man all those months ago, just for fate to rip them apart? Why would life give her this sweetness to take it away? She knew this was too good to be true. She knew it was only a matter of time before everything that she had was ripped from underneath her.

For the next hour, she stared at the boots she wore. He bought them for her at a small port where they only spoke Spanish. He dazzled her with his fluency when he purchased them. He laced her shoes for her a few mornings ago before they left. She counted the laces over and over again. One by one. She decided that she must never take the shoes off especially when it was the last thing he had done for her. Within 20 minutes, they reached the other side of the island. She physically had to be removed from the boat. Adhar grabbed onto her protectively, guiding her to sit on a beached log just a few meters from the water.

The men began to set up camp. This is where they would sleep for the night. Rory made a Bonfire. William heated up some of the jarred food items. Cortez loaded the pistols. That night she sat in front of the bonfire thinking. Rory had taken her weapons. He explained that Roman had told him to do it in the event that he passed. The thought earned a bitter chuckle out of her.

She woke up before everyone else. She was all vinegar, nothing but bitterness wafted from her. Another day in this inescapable hell. She thought the rest of the men would be lucky if they got out of this place. The boat rocked against the pebbled shore causing a scraping sound that got her attention. The very least she could do was look for him. She couldn’t let his body stay here, she wouldn’t stand for that.

She took the paddle boat out before anyone could stop her. The fog was thick, too thick to see that far in front of her. It didn’t stop her from calling his name. She didn’t know why she called for him knowing she saw him go under and never come up. Somewhere in her heart she wanted to be wrong. She could not fully accept the truth. There was not a single sign of life in the water, it felt just as dead as the corpses that still snapped and growled along the other side of the shore. She watched them in disdain, wondering how she could torture something that was already long gone.

She eventually turned the boat around, deciding to make a full perimeter of the Lake instead of cutting directly across. There could be no inch unchecked or disregarded. She knew that if she returned to the shore without his body she would not make it through the night.

It began to rain heavily which made it harder to see or hear. She screamed his name into the rain, wondering how much the downpour drowned out her voice.

Nothing…just stillness and rain. She began to cry again as her eyes scanned the water. She gave up the boat to the movement of the current. The tears wracked her as if it had happened all over again. A large thud pulled her out of her hysteria because the force of it knocked her forward onto her knees. She scrambled onto her feet to see a Giant piece of driftwood. She steadied herself and carefully walked to the edge of the boat. She assessed the boat for any damage and just over the edge she saw swirls of raven colored hair. Then she saw light skin, a nose, a mouth, ears, a face. She dove into the water without question.

She felt cold skin, hard muscles, hair, lips. She grabbed his limp body into her arms and positioned her body underneath his.. She mustered up as much strength as she could, a strength that she didn't even know was physically possible for her own body. She pushed him onto the boat gradually, screaming against the boat with each push forward. Eventually, she got his legs over the boat and climbed into it. With trembling hands, she placed her palms on either side of him and really looked at him. His full lips were blue and he practically had no color left to his skin. There weren’t any scratches on him or bites. He succumbed to the current. She bit her lip to hold in another cry. She placed her hands on his neck and she stilled in surprise. A light pulse….just a single flutter every few seconds. She scrambled to open his mouth and slotted hers against his. She blew hard, pushing her air into his lungs before she pressed on his chest. She pushed as hard as she could and gave him another hard gust of her air.

“ Pllleeasseee”, she cried. She continued with chest compressions. Thirty seconds rolled onto a minute. Another 30 seconds passed and then two minutes. At five minutes she began to panic, moving frantically to hold his nose and force more air. Two more hard pumps to his chest and he begins to sputter water from his mouth. A gust of relief floods her and she begins to sob.

“Baby….my baby…”, she whimpered. She could barely recognize the tone of her own voice. His eyes fluttered open as he began to cough up water. She sat him up, patting his back harshly to help him push out the fluid. The coughing went on for a good minute as he weakly slouched into his own lap. She grabbed his face and pressed it to her own. His bloodshot eyes remained closed as he took in big gulps of air, almost as if they were his very first.

“ You were gone ...I lost you”, she wailed against his weak form. A fragile hand pressed itself to her cheek.

“I-I’m here–”, he choked before choking for more air. She rested her forehead on his watching the comforting rise and fall of his chest. A chest she slept on every night.

“ Don’t you ever… EVER do that again. Do you understand me?! ”, she spat. She grabbed his face, forcing him to focus his eyes on hers.

“ Do you hear me!?”, she cried frantically

“ Okay… Okay”, He whispered delicately. He lost his voice and it was barely audible but his nod confirmed it. He was shivering and soon the cold would take him if she couldn’t get him warm. She picked up the oars and began paddling as quickly as she could back to the shore.

“ Adhar !”, she called out as they closed into the pebble bank.

“ Rory! I need your help!”,She yelled.

The men come flying out of the tent followed by Cortez and William.

“What the fuck!?”,Adhar rushed for the pair, dropping his sword on the ground.

“ I came just in time. Please we have to get him warm. Start a fire in front of the tent. He’s very weak”, she stepped out of the boat and three of the men picked him up infirmary style and placed him inside of Jane’s tent. She sprung into action, peeling off his clothes.

“ What happened ?”, said Adhar.

“ I went looking for him. I went to find his body. I wouldn't leave him in this place dead or alive. The boat mashed into driftwood and I found him floating in front of it –sinking to the bottom. I think he overexerted himself and the current pulled him under”, Jane’s tone was rushed as she pulled off his boots, throwing them behind her. Next came his shirt, weapon belt, and pants.

Roman’s teeth began to chatter, “ Jane…” he groaned.

“ I’m here… I’m here honey we just have to get you dry or you’ll get worse”, she assured in a panicked tone.

A tinge of embarrassment crossed Adhars face as he made prolonged eye contact with Roman’s bloodshot eyes, “ I’ll step out, give the man some dignity.”

Jane peeled off Roman’s underwear and placed his wet clothes in a pile at the front of the tent. She found a cotton blanket and began to rub his body with it vigorously, turning him over to dry his back and limbs. She then wrapped him in all the blankets she could possibly find . She reopened the tent to let the heat from the fire waft inside. Roman sits up now, though still very weak, he looks more alert now. William hands Jane a broth made from the animal bones that they cooked the night before. She places the mug under Roman’s lips and periodically feeds him the soup base. He takes it willingly and quietly.

On the other side of the fire Rory, Adhar, Cortez, and William sat patiently until Roman was ready to speak. Roman, still slow reacting and fairly tired, finally cleared his horse throat.

“ I….appreciate you all for taking care of my Jane while I was …gone”, he says quietly.

“ Cap’n’s orders, remember. We wouldn’t have let anything harm Jane. She’s one of us”, Saiid Rory. Jane smiles sadly knowing what she was planning to do.

“ How did you survive ?”, asked Cortez.

“ Those things pulled me down. I was able to get away but it was so dark that I could barely see. I was swimming in circles all night. I’d completely lost my sense of direction. I kept hearing things. I suppose I succumbed to my own exhaustion. There was nothing to hold onto so that I could rest. There were times I had to tread water just to catch my breath. Eventually I was able to make out a large piece of wood that was floating a couple feet away. I assume there was a current in that space or at least a light current. HadI not been so exhausted, I would have probably been able to swim through it but it swallowed me. A couple mouthfuls of water and I was …comatose. Dead to the world as far I knew,” Roman looked at Jane. She was still very upset at the whole ordeal but was holding back the tears.

“ You are very fortunate. Amalanhig are vicious creatures and they are relentless. I have never seen one before. If they are here, it means they were murdered here. If they would have dragged you to the bottom they would have likely eaten on your flesh for days”, Cortez warns.

Jane speaks up. “ He had a light pulse…I was doing compressions on him for ages. I can’t believe he even survived ”.

“ Well…what matters now is that we are all together. We’re finishing this journey how it was meant to be finished—as a group. Roman is here to guide us once more –after a few days of rest I suppose?”, says William.

Jane nodded, leaning into his side, “ No question about it. He’s too fragile for travel and now he’s at risk for infection. I’ll have to nurse him for a few days”, She sighed.

Roman snorted with humor, “ I’d protest but you’re fortunate I like you as my nurse.” He wrapped a protective arm around her.

The group said their goodnights individually, all heading off to bed. They grabbed the blankets that Jane borrowed to keep Roman warm. Rory went last, walking around the campfire. He crouched down and placed a firm hand on Roman’s shoulder. Roman looked up at him comically, just waiting for Rory to say something absurd and funny as always. A necessity at a time like this.

“ Glad to have you back. Just wanted to say…You’re lucky I respect you so much, otherwise I’d be royally pissed about you getting your ball sweat on my

Blanket Cap’n. No offense”, Rory smirked. Roman wheezes out a hearty, crackly, raspy laugh and Rory follows with an even crispier one. Jane shakes her headand rolls her eyes at their boyish humor. Rory takes his leave for the night.

Then it was just the two of them sitting in front of the fire. Roman flexed his muscles stiffly, clearly still in pain from moving them for so long. “Are you ready to go to sleep?”

Roman grunts in agreement, scooting himself further into the tent. Jane closes the tent and pulls off her boots. Roman watches her from a lying position, enjoying the view of her after such a horrible night. She turns to him and notices that he’s pulled off his blanket and was stark naked now that they had privacy. She decides to strip down to her undergarments. The fire had made it warm now, maybe too warm. When she was ready he pulled her onto his chest.

“ Are you okay?”, she asks quietly in the dark.

“ I’m okay. Are you okay?”, he says.

“ Not until we’re safe”, she sighs. He doesn’t respond but instead squeezes her hand reassuringly.

Jane nuzzled her face into his neck. “ I wish we were back on the ship…Or at some port where we could get ale and really greasy food. The simple things are what I miss the most. I don’t want to be here anymore”.

“ I know”, he says gently.

A beat of silence passes. Jane becomes distracted at the feel of his strong heart beat. A rhythm that she memorized a while ago. She remembers how weak it felt just a few hours ago.“ Why did you tell them to go on without you?”

“ I just wanted you safe. They can’t do that if they’re worried about rescuing me. I can take care of myself. I have for a very long time”, he sighs. She can hear the exhaustion settling in but she couldn’t help but protest. She didn’t want to argue.

“ Do you understand how close I was to joining you this morning in the lake ? I agreed to be a part of this crew because I fell in love with you. As much as I care for all our friends—the loss of you–I– I ”, she became flustered. He was unflinching.

“ If you follow me in death then I have failed you Jane.”

She inhales sharply. She doesn’t argue now. She let the words marinate and bounce around her head.

“ I would have hoped that if nothing else, I have shown you why life is a gift. Not something you waste behind anybody. Or any man for that matter”, he speaks softly and disarmingly. That tone. That tone he always takes with her in disagreements. Gentle, stern, vulnerable. He even presses his mouth to the top of her hair.

“ You knew what I would do…”, she said.

“ I did. That’s why I asked them to take your weapons just in case. Looking ahead you’re set up to live without me. You’ve got a home, a job waiting for you. You’ve even got an admirer in Adhar if you're willing. He would be more than happy to protect you in my absence. He already has as far as I’m concerned. You are so much more than just me Jane…”, rubs the side of her cheek with his finger lovingly. He can feel the wetness on her face and swipes it away.

Her tone turns wobbly. “ The way you’re speaking right now…as if this was a suicide mission.”

“ It wasn’t…but there is always a backup plan. Yet, fate has decided that we have more to do together. I found you…you found me. Clever how the tables turn. I should be thanking you.”

Jane said nothing. She just sniffles, trying to stop her nose from running. She cried enough today.

“ I’m sorry that I scared you. I’m sorry it even happened Jane. Allow me to make it up—-

“ I don’t want you to make it up. I don’t want anything else. I just need to feel you…I-I need to make sure you’re really here”, she sighs. She presses her face against his and he wraps his arms around her waist firmly.

The two of them fell asleep in an embrace. She woke up in the same position, face pressed into his neck and his arms still holding her. In fact, the next two days were spent mostly inside of the tent. Roman needed sleep and rest. The ambush with the undead called for a new strategy. The day time was reserved for sleeping and the night time would be reserved for traveling.

They packed up camp and rolled up their tents at sunset and restarted their journey. Roman’s accident was a hard reset on just how mind bending the island was. There was no more paranoia or anger. The only thing that mattered now was survival which outweighed the need for the treasure.

That same night of travel they evaluated Roman’s map. They had a full day of travel left which would be broken up in two nights. They would walk until dawn. Jane held onto Roman’s arm, happy with being the last two in the end of the line. She couldn't help but to keep glancing at him periodically to see if he was still himself. He was moving slower than usual and she knew that she was not completely healed from the event. On the fourth glance he caught her and smiled, placing his hand over her own.

“ Listen up you Ingrates”, he called out in a joking manner.

The group paused, giving him their full attention. He held up the map in his hand.

“ This map has an illustration on it suggesting that we are approaching the territory of hostile animals. All weapons should be loaded and ready for fire”, he warned

A slew of curses rolls throughout the group.

“ What Kind of animal ?”, Asks cortez.

“ I am not sure. It’s just an illustration of animal teeth with large canines. My bet is on some kind of large cat with how tropical the area is. It is imperative that all guns are loaded now. Be ready to run if need be. Jane you’re in the middle”, he speaks with an authoritative tone. Jane’s face drops in disappointment.

Jane rolls her eyes. “ You are playing the martyr again?”

“ Jane…. Please”, Roman sighs tiredly.

“ This is bullshit”, she scoffs.

“ Jane, you forget your necklace makes you a hot commodity. These creatures will likely go for you first. Why not make it harder for them?”, says Adhar.

She says nothing as she walks to the middle of the line. She tucks her necklace into her shirt and folds her arms. “ Alright, Let’s get this over with”.

The terrain turned into a dense, wet, thick jungle. Cortez had to cut through it with a machete. The landscape is slanted uphill and much more slippery. The sounds of birds chirping and squawking during the night was alarming, as this was usually an early morning to mid day occurrence. Large snakes slithered up trees in bright colors. Jane was not a fan of this as she was incredibly fearful of them. Spiders and scorpions darted out of the group's path. She frequently jumped from the feeling of plants touching her arms.

After 30 minutes of walking something cries out similar to the sound of a weeping man. The group stops, looking around in pure shock. Was someone stranded here? A Moorner perhaps? Another voice speaks Mandarin Chinese and a third speaks Portuguese. Women call out for help and screams yell out in agony. The panicked voices close in but they cannot be seen. Guns rise in the defense. The group forms a circle around Jane, looking for the threat.

“ HELPPPP MEEEE!!!”, A Woman screams.. The sound is so close it causes Jane to flinch and cover her head. She looks up and she can finally see it. Elongated canines the length of her hands, grey fur, stark yellow eyes, a muscular body measuring around 4 - 5 feet. It was a baboon dangling from a vine, but not just any baboon. This was the largest primate that shes ever seen. She didn’t know that baboons could even become so large. The animals stare at her, puffing thick clouds of foggy air into her face threateningly. A low rumble vibrated deep within its chest.

“ Jane…..do not…..move…. A muscle”, William says quietly.

“ We’re gonna take this niceeeee and slow…”, Roman walks up behind Jane, joining her in the circle. William is stationed behind the beast, pointing his gun for a headshot.

The creature begins to howl and hoot, getting progressively louder and louder directly in her face. Cortez, Rory, and Adhar covered the front, back, and side.

The primate opens it’s mouth. “ SHOOT THEM!!!”, a sound falls from the monkey's mouth like a puppet. It frightened her hearing what seemingly was the last words of someone who died by it’s hands.

The monkey drew closer “, NOOO!!”, it hissed. Jane flinched and the baboon dove for her. William opened fire into the back of its head. Roman pulled Jane backwards. Gunpowder flies as Jane dropped down and covered her head. Groups of Baboons screamed from the trees as sets of them set out to attack the group. Roman is back to back with jane as they shoot for the vital organs. With a swipe and tug of her left leg, Jane is knocked off her feet. She falls on her stomach dropping her weapon along the way.

“ AHHH!!”, Jane claws at the ground trying to gain leverage. Teeth poke the bottom of her ankle and she tenses waiting for the pain. Roman dives for the beast and begins to stomp it with the bottom of his shoe, before kicking it directly in the face. It stumbles back and Roman shoots it dead. Adhar screams in the distance as one of the creatures clamps onto his arm. William takes the back of his gun and slams it into the temple of the beast.

“ We have to make a run for it. We’re running out of ammunition!”, Cortez yelled over the noise. Jane grabs Adhar and rips a piece of his shirt off to wrap around his forearm.

“ Everybody run to higher ground!”,Roman bellowed over the sound of his gun.

The group took off uphill. The creatures were tailing them but the gunshots disrupted them enough to scare some of them off. Jane became worried for Adhar who was bleeding profusely and running made it worse. In the distance they saw the opening to what they assumed held the treasure. It was carved into the side of a rocky black mountain with an opening similar to a giant mouth. The entrance was lit up with torches of fire and that gave the crew an extra push for the last hundred meters. Cortez quickly grabbed two of the torches, throwing one to Roman and waving it towards the screaming primates. The fire was the only thing that pushed them back. After another five minutes of Cortez and Roman on defense, the monkeys finally fall back and return to the trees.

The cave was dark, damp, rocky, and unwelcoming. Droplets of water and the sound of shuffling feet reverberated all around them. Adhar was in pain and his hisses of discomfort popped and echoed against the walls.

“ Break”, Adhar called out. There was a much needed regroup after such a violent encounter. He slid down the wall and sat on his bum. Jane unwrapped his coverings and poured some of her water over the deep puncture wounds.

“ He will need stitches. It could begin to fester well before we reach the shore again ”, Jane stressed.

“ I know some herbs that will help”, Said Roman.

“ A poultice ?”, she confirms.

Roman nods. “ Ay”

“ I’ll be okay ”, Adhar reassured. Jane wasn’t convinced but the sooner they got to the treasure the better.

Everyone drank water and did a recount on their supplies. Cortez stayed behind with Adhar near the cave entrance. Roman, Jane, William, and Rory decided to keep going.

“ I hope this isn’t some trick or some dead end”, Jane sighed.

“ I don’t think so, look “, Rory pointed to the walls lit up by the fire. The walls of the cave were glittering with speckles of something. Jane stepped closer and her eyes widened. Gold ?

From the floor to the ceiling the deeper they walked, the more intense the specks of gold, silver, blue, greens, red, oranges and pinks became. Gemstones and Gold were etched in silver. A vibration on her chest made her clutch her key that was now glowing and warm.

They jogged down the entrance now, winded and anxious. Pretty soon the sounds of their feet touching the ground was interrupted by the crunch of them walking on rubies, diamonds, gold, silver. Minutes later they were knee deep in their riches. Every part of the cave was covered. Gold cups, necklaces, whole diamonds like the size of a clenched fist. And to think she imagined this reveal being more dramatic. Now the silence seemed louder than words. Pure shock. Pure disbelief. And then their shock came to a head. There it sat in all its glory. The treasure room that could put the British empire to shame. In the middle of the room sat a large chest. Jane’s key nearly floated off her neck.

“ This is it….I can’t believe it”, Jane scoffed. She glanced at Roman and he looked beside himself. She holds her hand out to him and he walks up beside her.

He chuckled. “ Well, it’s your key. Open it”, he urged.

Jane bit her lip in anticipation and stepped forward, positioning her key right over the keyhole.

“ Well this was not what I was expecting”, A deep, thunderous, incredibly raspy, feminine voice called out. Jane jumped back from the chest. The men stood with their weapons ready. Was this an ambush? A trap? What would it be this time?

“ And here I thought our introduction would be warmer. After all,you’re standing in my horde. Where are your manners? ”, The voice chuckled.

“ What is this place?!’, said Jane.

“ Your final test of course Don’t tell me you thought I would make it easy for you all? No, no. I had to truly be sure.”

“ This place. This island “, Jane emphasized.

“ This place is where all men go to die. The unworthy ones at least –which happens to be all”.

Fear grew and prickled along Jane’s skin. “ Will you let us have this treasure ?”

“ Not before your final test….”, the beast hissed.

Jane looked around cautiously. “ Okay…..”

“ Open the chest …”, the beast taunted.

Jane bent down slowly to her knees and grabbed her key. Carefully, she pushed the key into the lock and twisted it until she heard a click. Placing her hands on either side of the trunk, she lifted the lid to reveal a large crystal. It was red with an iridescent glow of several other colors that fragmented and twinkled under the light of the torches. It was shiny, glowing, and one of the most beautiful stones she’d ever seen. She cupped her hands and held it In her palms. With a closer view she could see a fleshy material on the inside that was beating like a heart.

“ And now your final test. The treasure from my horde and two wishes or…”, The beast trailed off . A pregnant pause fills the room.

Blackness fills her vision and suddenly she’s in front of two palm trees and sand is pooling between each of her toes. She looks out on the horizon and a woman in a long skirt, cotton shirt, and no shoes runs behind a toddler. Her hair is covered by a scarf that almost sits like a crown around the perimeter of her head. In the distance the child runs to a tall and lanky man who’s dipping his toes in the water. He’s wearing long cotton shorts that he rolled up to his calf and no shirt. His hair is cut short to his head. He picks up the toddler running to him and throws her in the air before catching her again. The woman joins them both and they kiss the toddler on either side of her face before heading towards Jane. They walk past her to the tiny houses that littered the shore. This woman was Jane’s mother and beside her was her Father.

“ M-Mom”, she calls out. The woman looks back curiously but her eyes never meet her daughters.

“ Mom”, she calls out in disbelief. The woman turns around and continues walking with her small family.

Jane follows them inside of their home. To her left sits an older man in his late 40’s smoking a pipe and drinking tea. He’s holding the toddler now, who’s tugging on his chin hair. He smiles fondly at the little girl with a heart aching reverence and adoration. The woman–her mother, begins to cook and her husband sits next to the older man. Jane’s grandfather who taught her how to read.

Then suddenly all four of them disappear and Jane’s mother reappears, gracefully older with her hair longer. Tiny streaks of gray peak through her hairline. It’s coily and long like her own and she can see herself in her mother more than ever before.

“ Mother, I’m heading out now”, A young teenage Jane walks out of her room and kisses her mother on her cheek.

“ Okay, enjoy yourself. Be back here by sunset. Tell your friend he’s welcome to join for dinner”, Her mother calls out. Young Jane looks like every possibility, every hope, every daydream, every unbroken thing. She is better…she’s happier. The young Jane joins a young man out on the porch and they walk to the market to meet friends.

“ Jane Ramlal. I offer you a life apart from the one you’ve come to know. A life without the pain, the loss, the fear, the suffering. I offer you parents and grandparents who never succumb to disease. A family intact. A young love that comes easy. I offer you friends who you grow old with. I offer you an ancestral home that is strong and standing. I offer you comfortability. Not a rich comfortability but just enough to be satisfied. I offer you a life outside of England.”

“ And if I accept?”, she asks carefully.

“ Roman is still a pirate on the Black pearl. You never meet. You never make it to this place. All for the small price of the life you were supposed to live. No harm comes to your friends but it is a life apart”, the dragon speaks in a conniving tone.

She goes back to the house and sees her mother sitting on the porch with her father and grandfather. They talk freely, cursing to the wind without a care. They all look so beautiful. She would be crazy not to accept this offer. She reaches her hand out to her mothers cheek and for a moment she can almost feel the heat of it. Her grandfather blows Tobacco in the air. Now she remembers why she liked the smell of Roman’s smoke. It reminded her of him.

With a long sigh she pulls away “ I…decline”, says Jane.

There is a long pause and for a moment she believes she’s trapped in this reality. Invisible.

“ May I ask…why”, the beats asked in a curious tone.

“ I wouldn't change who I am. I’m proud..of who I am. Without the pain of my life…I could not savor the sweetness that I know now. And I can’t…leave him. No matter how much I want this. I want him…more”, she whispers.

And with those words the facade falls away into Gold. Tears rim her eyes and she looks for Roman in a panic. Almost as if those minutes away from him would cause him to disappear forever. She sighs in relief when their eyes meet.

“ Clever girl. There are many men who would fall victim to their deepest desire. You’ve surprised me and that is difficult to do. I am in a good mood. For this I grant you four wishes and as much gold you all can carry”, The dragon chuckles. The stone turns to coins in her hands.

The room rumbles in laughter and cheer as bodies swarm Jane. Rory lifts onto his shoulders. Cortez and Adhar race further into the cave with shocked faces. They cheer for her. Roman is beside himself. This was it. It was over….it was finally over. They were rich. But most importantly they were alive. They could go home..or find home..

“ Rory put me down”, Jane laughed. He set her down on her feet and placed a fat wet kiss on the back of her hand.

Roman rolls his eyes “Watch it”, he hissed. Rory blows him a kiss and dives into coins like a warm summer lake. Roman pulls Jane into his chest and she wraps her arms around him. His mouth meets hers and she sighs from his touch.

“ What did you see?”, he whispers.

“ I’ll tell you later”, she says with another peck against his lips. He kisses her forehead, cradling her head against his hand.

“ Dragon… errr–miss”, Jane called out.

“ Yes”, the creature sighed with annoyance.

“ Can I cash in my wishes at any time ?”

“ If you must”, the creature said flippantly. Jane smiled at that.

“ My first wish. I wish for an elixir that cures any illness or affliction that refills itself every time it’s empty”, said Jane.

“ At once”, says the dragon. A bottle appears in her hand filled with a brown liquid and a dropper.

“ Adhar”, she calls over to him. He obliged her.

“ You- you didn’t have to waste your wish on me. Really. I would have been fine”, he stutters. There’s a flustered urgency in his tone.

“ We have to look out for each other. No matter what. It would be a shame if you got sick and died before you could go and spend your money “, she smirked. Jane places a few drops of the liquid onto his wound before wrapping it again. “ Better ?”

“ Ay…though it’s a bit itchy”, he says.

“ Means it’s healing”, Said Roman.

“ For my second wish, I wish for a device that will repel any evil creature or entity, land or sea, away from myself and the Entire crew in this cave which includes every member of the ship on the beach to ensure our safe travels”, she commands.

“ ……….Done”, says the Dragon. A talisman appears in her palm, a gray stone that’s tumbled smooth. It has some sort of protective marking on it. She closed it around her fist and put it into her pocket.

“ Why don’t we all collect what we can. We can talk about the last two wishes with the group?”, she says to the men. They all agree and begin dumping handfuls of the treasure into the chest that held the dragon stone.

Not only did they fill the chest, they filled other containers. Flasks. Buckets, their own chests, whatever they could find. By the time they left the cave the sun was shining over the trees.

They were expecting a long journey back to the beach but once they passed the treeline, they stepped out onto the sand. Dazed and confused, Jane looks back to see that they’d only traveled a couple hundred feet in the last 4 days.

“ I won’t even question it. Not the worst shit we’ve been through these past few days”, said Adhar. Everyone agreed.

A celebration that commenced the minute the rest of the pirates took notice of the six of them. That night a bonfire was made as Rory retold the dramatic and mind bending story of their journey. Jane sat in Roman’s lap laughing along with Rory’s impression of the Baboon that tackled him. Tonight there was a comfortable breeze. The perfect weather to sleep under the stars. Jane feels eyes on her and she lets them simmer onto her skin.

Roman leaned forward and kissed the side of her neck to get her attention . “ Are you going to tell me what you saw now ?”, he asks quietly. With everyone so distracted there was no better time.

Jane sighed and pressed her forehead to his. “ I was given the choice to go back to Trinidad and essentially live a fairytale. No one ever dies, I never go to London. Everyone would be happy. The catch was that we would never meet. You’d be a pirate and I’d be..far far away.”

“ Why didn’t you choose it?”, he asks curiously. He knew the answer but Roman felt that there could be more to her reasoning. It was hard to believe it was just himself.

She shrugs. “ Besides not wanting to leave you. Who says my life isn’t a fairytale ? And if it’s not already..why can’t it become one..one day?”, she asks him.

“ If I was a better man I would say that you should have chosen the story that would leave you unscathed. The story where life would have been easier.”

“ I am only looking forward now. There’s no need to look back anymore.”

A group vote determined what the third wish would be. The crew was most agreeable considering that everyone had their own treasure. Therefore, the third wish would be a large comfortable ship that was fully stocked with enough food and water to last them the entire journey back to the West.

The next day they set sail black to Europe. The crew celebrated that night and everyone was in good spirits with the promise of a good future ahead of them all. Pete the parrot was even in his cage as he had been before. Many talked about reuniting with loved ones, settling down, investing, marrying. Adhar had plans to go back to India at the end of the year and win back his lost love and give back to his community. Rory was a pirate through and through and wanted to continue sailing and seeing the world. Cortez wanted to visit his family but his heart belonged to the sea. William planned on figuring out the next steps with his wife and investing in her regardless of her decision to stay or go. Caden wanted to be a pirate and someday ..a Captain.

Jane and Roman sat on the wind deck away from the festivities. They talked for hours about all the exciting things that some of the other members wanted to do with their new freedom.

“ Everybody has this elaborate plan on what they’ll do and who they’ll become now. What will you do next ?”, she asked curiously.

Roman smirks. “ I of course would love to keep traveling and seeing the world. There’s much to be seen, wouldn’t you agree ?”, he asks.

Jane shrugged, “ Much indeed. Will you be keeping the ship?”

“ I’m not sure. I think…I may be ready for a break.”

“ A- A break?”, she stuttered.

“ Yes…this journey allowed room for introspection. Being a pirate is not always pretty. In fact, I only just recently allowed in the beautiful parts of life since I’ve met you.”

“ What are you saying Roman”, Jane grinned.

Roman chuckled. “ I think that you and I deserve a vacation. We also deserve to take that vacation for however long we so choose. Or it can be permanent. I am unmoved with either option.”

“ You wish to be on land for a while ?”, Jane’s brows raise in suspicion.

“ I do…the land of Paris to be exact. There is someone that I would like you to meet.”

“ Who ?”, she asked.

“ Someone a lot like me. I think Paris will be good for the senses.”

“ The senses you say? What aren’t you saying”, Jane squinted.

“ Just trust me”, Roman took another playful swig of ale.

“ Okay…well if you think this will be good. And if you think it is safe then I have no reason to protest. My only worry is my warrant.”

“ I will get that squared away with the courts as soon as we enter Europe.”

“ Fine… there is one other thing however”, Jane perked up. Roman looked back at her with his full attention.

“ What will I do with the last wish? I should let the crew decide, right?”

Roman pulled her back into his chest and rested his head on top of hers, engulfing her in his embrace. He bends down and presses his mouth just above her ear.

“ You spend that wish on whatever your heart desires. It is yours alone..”

End of chapter.

————

Authors note :

What do you think Jane’s final wish should be ?

[whataperfectwasteoftime]

The Rift - Chapter Three

Pairing: Marcus Moreno x Marcus Acacius x Marcus Pike x f!Reader

Rating: Chapter is T, overall fic is E (18+ only, explicit smut)

Word Count: 2.3k

Warnings: Bad Latin, language barriers, lots of yearning, Marcus Acacius is Very Hot and no one knows what to do about it

Summary: Marcus Pike shows up at your door in the middle of the night with a very broad man in Roman armor in tow. Armed with only your Classical studies education and a Latin-English dictionary, you do your best to help.

A/N: Okay, we've got three of the four members of this grammatically insane polycule in the same space! Only one more to go! I wonder how a certain Leader of the Heroics is doing.... Just a reminder, to keep everyone sane, the POV character is called out by name at the beginning of each POV switch.

Masterlist | Chapter Two | Next chapter>>

(You)

At around the same time that the leader of the Heroics was impatiently waiting for his coffee maker to finish brewing, you’re startled awake by loud, forceful knocking on your door. 

Going from ‘asleep’ to ‘instant dread’ in the span of two seconds makes your body feel like it’s short-circuiting. You tumble out of bed, grabbing the nearest object to potentially use as a weapon. You examine your choice–Stephen King’s The Stand, and shrug internally. I mean, if any book could be a blunt weapon… 

With your fingers white-knuckled around the thick spine, you peer carefully through the peephole to find–

“Marcus!?”

You yank open the door to find the Special Agent of your dreams standing on your welcome mat. “What the hell? Do you have any idea what time–”

“It was an emergency,” the Agent says quickly, holding up his hands in supplication. “I’m so sorry. I didn’t know who else to call.” The dread returns to the pit of your chest. “Marcus, oh God, are you okay? What happened? What’s wrong?”

“It’s not me, it’s um. Well, let me show you.” He grimaces, then pushes someone else out from behind the corner and into view. 

It’s a man–a very large man. A large, broad man wearing a dress. No, wait. That’s not a dress, that's…

“Marcus,” you say carefully. “Why is there a man dressed in Roman armor on my doorstep.

“Marcus,” the man repeats, and slaps his chest. 

“Yes, that’s right,” the Agent says tiredly, as though he’s gone through this several times in the past hour. “This is Marcus. He’s from the Rift. I... kind of almost hit him with my car.”

“Car,” the Roman says, nodding seriously. He looks you up and down in a way that makes heat creep to your cheeks, and says something in a language that you don’t understand, but seems oddly familiar.

“Oh my God,” you murmur to yourself. “He speaks Latin.”

“I’m kind of at a loss,” Marcus, your Marcus says with a tired sigh. “I don’t know whether to call someone at Heroics, HQ, or… I dunno. I mean, who the fuck do you call when you have… a Roman?”

“Hang on.” You hold up a finger and dash over to your office, which is really just a tiny room off of the living room filled to the brim with shelves and shelves of books, with a tiny desk squeezed in between.

“You should get rid of your old college textbooks,” you say to yourself in a mocking tone. “How many times are you going to move house, and you still have all these books taking up space? Well, the joke’s on you, Linda, because I’ve got a Roman Centurion in my kitchen and the man of my dreams showed up at my door at three in the morning because he needs my help and this is my moment, dammit.” Your finger finally lands on the text you were looking for–a dog-eared copy of Oxford’s Latin-English Dictionary with a broken spine and part of the front matter missing. On a whim, you grab the first book next to it, Ovid’s Metamorphoses in the original Latin, and race back to Marcus and… other Marcus. 

“Salve,” you begin, and the Roman’s eyes snap to yours. 

Marcus Pike grins as though you’ve hung the stars.

Flipping through the pages frantically, you manage to string together your first sentence.

“You… are… safe… with… us.”

You hope you conjugated the verb correctly. 

The Roman murmurs something back, speaking slowly and deliberately, understanding that this is very much not your native tongue. He repeats it twice, until your face dawns with understanding. 

“Where am I?”

“Jesus, can we start with an easier one?” you chuckle to yourself. After some quick thinking, you manage to explain to Roman Marcus that he is in a different country, very far away from the world he knows.

The man shakes his head. “Quam?” he murmurs to no one in particular. 

That’s a tough one, too. You have no idea how to explain black holes and time rifts in Latin. 

You make a face, putting your hands up and shrugging your shoulders in an exaggerated pantomime of, “I don’t know.”

The man nods slowly. You feel awful for him, really. Stranger in a strange land. He must be terrified.

“Famelicus,” he says. 

You don’t know that one. You flip through the pages to find the F’s. 

“Famelicus,” he repeats, pointing to his stomach. “Panis?”

“Oh shit, yeah,” you whisper. “Of course you’re hungry.” You turn to the cupboard that serves as your pantry and search for something he’d recognize. You pull out half of a baguette and hold it up hesitantly. The man rips it from your grasp almost comically and begins to tear pieces off of it with his teeth, devouring the bread with gusto. 

“This is surreal,” Pike murmurs under his breath. 

When the Roman finishes eating, he seems almost as interested in the clear plastic wrapping than in the bread itself. He stares at it, brow furrowed with a deep frown of concentration as he crinkles the plastic over and over again in his fist. 

“I hate to ask, but can we… can we crash here until morning when I can think straight and figure out what the hell to do with this guy?” Marcus asks, looking pained. 

“Yeah, ‘course,” you reassure him. “I’ll help you. We’ll get him back to where he needs to go, or... find the person who can. In the morning.”

“In the morning,” Marcus nods, smiling gratefully. 

Turning to the Roman again, you say haltingly, “Somnus. Nox. Somnus?” Sleep. Night. 

The Roman also looks relieved at the prospect of sleep. 

“Uh, cubile,” you say, gesturing at the couch and indicating he can use it as a bed. You’re about to go rummage in your linen closet for a spare blanket and maybe a pillow, but Marcus the Roman strides confidently over to the couch, lies down, and is snoring within seconds. 

“Woah,” you remark, laughing to yourself. “Shit, Marcus, I only have the one couch…”

“I’ll take the recliner,” he says quickly, pointing to the battered, second-hand Lazy Boy in the corner of your living room. “Listen,” he swallows thickly, looking up at you with those deep brown eyes that make you melt in any situation, much less in the middle of the night in your dark living room. “Thank you. I didn’t know where else to go, and you–Well, if anyone can speak a dead language conversationally, it would be you.” His voice is soft and earnest, and you want to tell him anything at all, Marcus, anything for you but you force yourself to bite your tongue.

“It’s no problem,” you assure him. “Honestly. I mean, talk about a Classicists dream, right? When do you ever get to use the stuff you learned in graduate school in the real world?”

Marcus chuckles softly. “Go get some sleep. We’ll tackle Mount Olympus in the morning, yeah?”

“That’s Greek, not Roman,” you snort.

He winks at you, and you will your knees not to buckle. “Whatever,” he teases playfully. 

“‘Night,” you say, hoping you don’t sound too breathless. Without waiting for a reply, you retreat to your bedroom before you can make a fool of yourself even further.

“‘Night,” Marcus returns softly, and when you turn to close the door, he’s still looking at you. 

(Pike)

Marcus awakens to the comforting sound of someone puttering quietly around the kitchen. He opens his eyes to see you–what a beautiful sight–reaching up on your tiptoes to take three mugs from the cupboard. The other Marcus is awake too, sitting at the kitchen table and watching your task with curiosity.

When he stirs from the recliner, you smile in greeting. “I made coffee,” you offer brightly. 

“Sainted being,” Marcus groans tiredly as he gets up from the chair, his joints creaking and protesting as he stands. 

“Cah-fee,” the Roman repeats as you pour the steaming liquid into three cups. 

“I don’t think you’re gonna like it,” you say with a chuckle as he reaches for one of the mugs. “It’s hot. Calidus. Be careful.”

“Care-fool,” the man nods seriously, and Marcus can’t help but smile at the bizarre domesticity of the scene. 

He sips cautiously, makes a face, and lets out a string of Latin that Marcus takes to understand that he didn’t like the coffee.

You snort. “I told you. How about, ah, milk?” You flip through your dictionary. “Lac? Lacte?” You take the quart out of your fridge and hold it up.

“Lac. Mil-k?” 

“Yes!” you squeal excitedly, spinning around to grab another cup. Before you can turn around, however, the Roman has managed to open the carton of milk himself and begins chugging from it. 

At your shocked expression when you turn back around, Marcus can’t help but let out a loud laugh. The other man stares at him questioningly, and he gestures to the cup. “The cup.”

“Cup,” the man repeats, and laughs too. 

“I’m gonna make some eggs,” you announce. “He should like that, you think?”

Marcus shrugs. “I don’t see why not.”

You hold up an egg for the man’s inspection. “Uh, ovum?” you ask.

His face brightens. “Sic, ovum,” he agrees. He stands and inspects the carton thoughtfully. “Quid est?” 

“Ovum,” you answer again, not understanding the question. 

“No.” The Roman picks one up carefully and points to himself. “Ovum,” he says patiently, then points to you.

Oh. Marcus grins. “I think he wants to know the word in English.”

“Egg,” you tell him. 

“Egg,” he repeats. The word seems to strike him as funny, because he repeats it several times, chuckling as he does. 

Now that understanding has been made, ‘Quid est?’ seems to be the man’s new favorite question. He repeats it over and over as you make breakfast, getting in your way in the process and generally causing chaos throughout the small apartment. Marcus tries his best to run interference, answering all of his questions to the best of his ability. Thankfully, he seems to stick to objects that are familiar to him–a pillow, chair, fork–rather than ask Marcus about the microwave, or, god forbid, his cell phone. He repeats every English word thoughtfully, in a thick accent and rumbling voice that he can’t help but find attractive. 

“Hey, you don’t think anyone else saw our friend here last night and said anything?” you say suddenly while the three of you sit around your kitchen table eating the eggs. 

Somehow, the thought hadn’t even crossed Marcus’s mind. “Shit, I dunno,” he admits.

“I’m gonna check the news.” you grab the remote off of the coffee table and switch on the TV. 

The noise and pictures emanating from the screen immediately cause Marcus to spit curses in Latin. He tries to rise from his chair in alarm, but you place your hand on his forearm and repeat several words in Latin softly and reassuringly, and the man calms. 

The local news is, as it has been since its arrival, fixated on the Rift. Everything seems as expected–normal seems to be the wrong word–until Marcus realizes what the anchor is saying. 

“ –was successfully closed around six am this morning. Joining us now is Marcus Moreno, leader of the Heroics, to give us an update on the situation.”

“What do they mean, ‘Closed?’” you ask with a frown. 

“Shh,” Marcus says. 

“Mr. Moreno, representatives from your team are saying that the portal is now closed, is this correct?” the anchor asks. 

“That’s right. The um… the security risk was too great, and we don’t really know what that kind of rip in the fabric of uh, you know, space and time, is capable of. Our team of physicists have been working on a solution day and night and I’m happy to announce that the Rift has disappeared completely and Pennsylvania Avenue should be reopening in the next few days as cleanup begins.”

“Is there any chance of it opening again?” the anchor asks. 

Marcus Moreno looks uncomfortable. “Listen, the… the math around this isn’t my strong suit, but my understanding is that these kinds of things–rifts in space and time–can only happen when an exponential amount of energy is released, so barring another supervillain somewhere out there with the same Black Hole bomb, there shouldn’t be any more Rifts opening in the nation’s capital anytime soon. Uh, thanks.”

“He’s always so stiff in interviews,” you comment. “You think he’s uncomfortable with the limelight, or what?”

“Are you being serious right now?” Marcus shakes his head in disbelief. “The portal is closed. The Rift is gone. And our friend here is trapped on the wrong side.”

“Oh, shit,” you breathe. “Oh, fuck. Marcus… what do we do?”

“I’m gonna go to Heroics HQ,” Marcus announces. “To talk to Moreno one-on-one and try to keep this situation quiet. He’s a good guy, he’ll use discretion.” “You know Marcus Moreno?”

“How is that your takeaw–nevermind. I mean, I don’t know him, but I’ve definitely come across him in professional settings in the past. Why?”

“He’s–” you laugh nervously. “It’s silly. I always kind of had a crush on him. Childhood celebrity crush, you know how it is.”

“Oh. Right.” Is it hot in here? Did someone raise the temperature in this room? Marcus can’t explain why the prospect of you finding the leader of the Heroics attractive eats at him so much, but the next thing that you say nearly makes him swallow his tongue.

“Actually, you resemble him a lot,” you comment nonchalantly. “You’ve got the same pretty brown eyes.”

The other Marcus chooses this moment to hold up his empty plate and ask, earnestly, “Egg?”

[riptideripley]

Chapter two of: Addicted.

word count: 1,836

Roman sat up out of his bed with a groan, waking up to his 7:30 alarm. He sat up and was instantly sore, giving him a fresh reminder of last night. He sighed and grabbed his phone off the charger, eyes widening when he saw 3 missed calls from Rhea. He instantly called her back as he flipped the covers off his legs and stood up to stretch.

"Hey Rips, what's up?"

"Did seth tell you"

"Tell me..what?"

"Well he set up a breakfast "date" for us to go to so we can talk. It's at 8:30 so hurry up."

She spat out and hung up quickly leaving Roman stunned. He put his phone back on the charger and grabbed his essentials out of his suitcase, heading to the bathroom.

Rheas POV

I hung up almost instantly after talking to Roman. Why the fuck would Seth set this shit up knowing I'm still pissed?! I glanced over at Dom who was peacefully sleeping, god he looked beautiful. I gently shook him, "Hey Dom..I have to go soon alright?" I spoke softly not wanting to really disturb him.

"Yeah..? Alright mami be safe" he mumbled tiredly back to me, kissing my hand before turning to the other side to get comfortable. I smiled and got out of bed, walking to the bathroom to check myself out. I've already went to the gym, showered, and did everything a woman needed to do. I checked the time and saw it was already 8:10 so I grabbed my mini bag and headed out the door, giving Dom a kiss on the cheek before leaving.

15 Minutes Later.

I arrived and I'm instantly irritated. I see Roman and Seth sitting at a small squared table off to the corner, walking over there. "Rhea! Glad you could make it." Seth said with a smile in which I returned one as I sat down. Looking at Roman just made me sick.

No ones POV

All Roman could do was look at her. I mean he felt guilty and tried everything to apologize, but he knew it would take some time.

"Rhea look, I know I've already explained everything to you. I'm really sorry alright? I never meant for him to find those messages and find out everything."

Rhea sighed, stirring the coffee stick around in her black coffee Seth ordered for her. "Yeah..I guess I accept your apology. I just don't want Jimmy around me ever. again."

"Alright I can promise that no worries" he responded with a smile, finally all of this would be put to rest.

"Soo..how's you and Dom?" Seth questioned, taking a sip of his coffee. "Things are..meh. Same old same old I guess" Rhea responded with a slight smile, not wanting to go into detail about the truth.

Truth be told, after Dominik found out about Rhea sleeping with Roman things went sideways for a while. He wouldn't book hotel rooms with her, he wouldn't even sit next to her in the car rides with the group. It took him a few weeks to finally talk to her and at least..attempt to move on from it. Things went well for a while and then they didn't. It took them a while to get back on track and just let things smoothe over on its own.

Roman looked around taking in the scenery when he spotted someone. Dean. He damn near jumped up out of his seat to go run and hug him but remained composed. "Rhea you know you can always talk to us right?" "Yeah..Yeah I know" she spoke which snapped Roman out of his zone. He was too busy looking around and staring at Dean to realize the conversation they were having. They were going on and on about the whole situation from Elimination Chamber and how her relationship was with Dom. He felt bad truly but god it was just unfair Dom got to have her and not share.

Rhea checked her phone and stood up almost instantly. "Hey I um- I gotta go. Something happened with Damian and Finn" she spoke quickly, grabbing her coffee cup and leaving.

Seth noticed Roman staring at someone and looked, it was Dean.

Flashback.

"Dean this isn't fair and you know it."

"Oh cmon Seth. You know he'll never love you the way he loves me just fucking face it dude."

Roman just sat there completely silent and out of it. He was in love with his two best friends and didn't know what the fuck to do. Seth walking in on him and Dean didn't make things any better for him either.

"One day Seth you'll realize. Nothing and no one can replace me in his life."

End of flashback.

Seth's blood boiled and his heart sank. Dean was the one person he didn't want to see ever again after those words Dean spoke to him. Roman seemed to notice this and sat there quietly, his gaze shifting off to look outside the window.

"Go talk to him, I know you want to."

"Seth I-" "Go."

Roman silently stood up and made his way over to the table were Dean was sitting alone. "Holy shit- Ro?" Dean spoke damn near choking on his drink. Roman chuckled and smiled. "Hey Dede..haven't seen you in a while you know. Ever since you went to AEW you kinda ghosted me" he spoke and took a seat in the chair across from Dean.

"Shit dude sorry about that. Works have been busy and you know how shit is" Dean spoke feeling guilty about just leaving Roman alone how he did. "It's fine I get it, how'd you like it over there?" Roman questioned.

"Awe man you've got to come watch one of my matches if you aren't busy- I'm having a blast" he spoke, seeming very enthusiastic about it which made Roman chuckle to himself. "I'll try, hey did you uh get a new number or something" he asked as he pulled out his phone from his pocket. "Shit- I did, here give me your phone"

Seth just sat there. Watching as Dean typed his new number into Roman's phone. This whole interaction just made him more and more pissed off, so he stood up and walked out of the building. Roman noticed and just sighed in his head, continuing his conversation with Dean.

When Seth got back to the hotel, he was not expecting the scene he saw in the lobby.

"Damian what the absolute FUCK is wrong with you huh?! You go out with Dom for one fucking night and come back with a pregnancy?!" Rhea was fussing at Damian at the top of her lungs. From what Seth gathered within the 5 seconds of him being there, Damian and Dominik went out to a club and Damian got someone pregnant. Thank god this was a WWE only reserved hotel or shit would've hit the fan quickly.

Finn was pacing around furious while Dom just stood there silently. He knew who the girl was sadly and if he told Rhea it would just make her more mad. He noticed Seth out of the corner of his eye and sighed as he quietly walked over to him.

"Is everything..good?" "Fucks no. I mean you hear what she's saying" Dom responded very quickly as he sat down in a lounge chair with Seth.

"So he got someone pregnant huh?" Seth asked as he sipped on the coffee he got to go. "Yeah..I mean I told him it was a bad idea to go home with the girl but he didn't listen to me. And I mean you know the whole thing between him and Finn right?" Seth shook his head no.

"Shit dude you've got to keep up with the locker room whispers. Apparently they're in some sort of relationship without a label on it, it's confusing shit and I just gave up on trying to keep up with it."

"So that's why he's so mad.." "Yup."

At this point Roman had returned and Rhea's former tag partner Liv showed up from all the commotion. "Rhea! Calm the fuck down ok?" Liv spoke as she held onto Rhea's arm to pull her back from slapping the taste out of Damian. Rhea snatched her arm out of her grip and walked off to go calm herself down. Dominik took this opportunity to stand up and go after her to make sure she didn't break anything like she tends to do. Damian stood there pissed after being yelled at like a fucking 2 year old but to be honest he deserved it.

Hours later. 7:30 pm.

It was a saturday so everyone tended to head out to a club or something to relax and have fun. Rhea invited Roman,Seth,Liv,Dom, and Bianca out to a bar for the night to cool off. When Roman arrived, he spotted Rhea alone and went to go talk to her. "Hey you alright? Where's everyone else?" "Oh hey..well the girls and seth are over there bothering some people. Dominik decided not to show up and instead went to Damian's room" he nodded at her words and ordered him a double whiskey.

"See you ordering the same thing as me hm" Rhea spoke and chuckled to herself, sipping on her glass of whiskey. Roman smiled and took a sip of his drink when he received it, looking off in the distance at Seth.

"You two still messing around?" Rhea asked, trailing her foot up his leg. She knew she was wrong for doing this but she couldn't help herself when he looked that good in his all black tight fitted shirt and sweatpants. Roman noticed this instantly and chuckled to himself, running his hand up her leg. "Yeah..we are. Is that an issue Miss Ripley?"

"Oh not at all..I can change that tho" she spoke with a smile and finished off her drink, Roman doing the same.

Fast Forward to the next morning.

Rhea sat up and looked next to her, instantly jumping out of the bed. How the fuck did she get in bed with Roman of all people? She quickly dressed herself and was about to leave but was stopped at the feeling of a hand on her waist. "Leaving now Rhea?" a familiar voice of Roman's in her ear.

"Yes Roman..Dom is probably worried sick about me alright?" she spoke and shoved his hand off of her. "Fine, go ahead and leave. We'll talk about this at some point" he spoke and watched her leave, loving every second of the view. He turned over in his bed and grabbed his phone, calling Dean to plan to meet up.

Rheas POV

I banged on the door, trying everything to wake at least Dom up. Finally he opened the door and looked at me, not seeming too happy to see my face.

"So..Roman again huh?" shit.

[curator-on-ao3]

You’re an amazing writer! How do you come up with your fic ideas and then how do you actually go about writing them, meaning organizing, outlining, etc?

You’re very kind and generous, anon, and I thank you. 🥹❤️

Every writer’s process is different and, for me, fanfic ideas can come from everyday life (“let’s put those guys in situations”), something about the canon (fix it, expand on it, explain it, poke at it, obliterate it, etc.), or prompts (specifically for me, offered to a group, or via fandom events).

For every one of those options, so many of my posted fics flashed through my mind, which gets to the next part of your question — going about the actual writing.

I’m usually a planner for multichaps and a pantser for one-shots. (For those unfamiliar with those terms, a planner “plans,” while a pantser writes by the seat of their “pants.”) I try to have the ending in mind before I start any kind of story, though, because I like to know where I’m going … even if the characters sometimes disagree and I need to change the ending to what makes more sense as the writing actually unfolds.

A note: When I say I outline, sure, that can be a Roman numeral extravaganza as so many of us learned in school … or an outline can be as simple as a few notes for what should happen in each chapter or across the work. This is a personal choice — and can vary by the demands of each project.

Adjacent to outlining but critically important in their own right, I think character thumbnails can be incredibly useful, even for short pieces. For example, just a brief “character A’s goal is X but isn’t sure how to achieve that because of Y; this is complicated by Z” for each main character can keep the work on track, with modification/updating if needed.

All of this is to set up for flow in creating the writing that readers will actually see. Two metaphors come into play here — the iceberg for prep below the surface, and a workout warmup for protecting muscles by priming them for movement.

Which brings us to the multi-sensory experience that is writing. Breathing the character’s air. Existing with the character. Even if a character isn’t a main character, they don’t know that. If the story was flipped to another character’s POV, the story should still be compelling. Characters should be real, not manipulations of the writer — never, ever manipulations of the writer — because characters should be beloved, flawed, trying, striving, hiding, careful, reckless, complicated beings doing their best in the reality they inhabit. The true storytellers are the characters. The writer just has the honor of getting to know them as their tale unfolds.

Anyway, I hope this is useful to you, anon, and please ask me any other questions (stereotypical writer who loves to talk about writing). ❤️

[gwandas]

Hey! I saw your Nessian commission and I think it’s beautiful art. I was wondering what your stance is on Nessian because I found it intriguing. I know you’re very Cassian critical (me as well). How do you manage it while still holding love for and engaging with the ship? I have a hard time doing it (as a former nessian shipper) and it made me wonder. What parts of Nessian do you enjoy, what makes it still worthy of love, what do you wish for them in the future? Such interesting topics.

Anyway love your blog have a nice day!

Hello!!

Uh honestly I don't love it 😅 and even pre-ACOSF I was neutral on both the ship and Cassian as his own character. The extent of me engaging with it is reblogging art where I think she looks hot. I commissioned that piece because I'm a big fan of that particular artist's versions of both Cassian and Nesta and I wanted to participate in a Nesta-centric event.

The redeemable parts of canon!Nessian to me are all Nesta. I'd even say all the way back in ACOMAF she was doing all the heavy lifting to make the ship look good (@ae-neon wrote this post on pre-ACOSF Nessian that I think summarizes it perfectly). I've never once doubted that she loves that man. His POV feels very empty to me compared to hers. At the end of the day, she's stuck with him, so when I'm in an optimistic mood I'll try gaslighting myself into liking it 👍🏾 it's hard though when I was never obsessed with the ship in the first place. Like, I barely read fanon!Nessian because I'm not clinging onto what the stans wished it was (and because I'm picky and can't read fics where he's the exact opposite of who he is in the book. I basically only read the post-ACOSF/HOFAS fix its where there are some consequences for canon events)

I am pretty optimistic about the Ember and Randall chapter leading to some sort of reckoning for them. Although what gives me pause is that they're probably not getting another book, so I'm not confident SJM would write something as dramatic as Nessian temporarily being apart or whatever from another character's POV. I don't know. It's the only reason I'm interested in her finally announcing what the next book will be about because I'm hoping? It'll give us some clarity on what direction Nessian is going in? It's funny because after ACOSF I was ready to move on because I assumed SJM would pull her usual move and just make them randomly healthy going forward after the atrocities committed while getting together but then she wrote HOFAS which both pissed me tf off but also gave me an ounce of hope for some actual growth for Cassian who has been the exact same guy as when we were first introduced to him but like I said that all depends on what the next book is. My Roman Empire is SJM saying her reaction to rereading ACOSF was "wow I was really mean to myself back then" which made me go HUH like,,, should I get my hopes up that she sees something wrong with what she wrote? Maybe! The HOFAS bonus chapter makes me think there's a chance.

TLDR I'm not just Cassian critical I hate his ass but she's stuck with the guy so I'm willing to make the best of it.

[ekaarts]

RWBY fanfic recomendation

What would happen if the Curious Cat did end up possessing Ruby in the end? Of course, she wakes up in her 15-year-old body.

Ruby Rose and the Curious Cat are now one and the same. She wakes up in Patch just the day before her fight with Torchwick happens.

But Ruby is not fine, stable would be a heavy overstatement as well. She's in pain; she just lost everything; they failed; Atlas is gone; Penny is dead; had no time to process her grief; and now she's one with a creature older than Remnant itself. So her first thought after waking up is to end her new, miserable existence. (Obviously further TW for that and other simular stuff.)

However, she can't pull the trigger. So, inspired by her uncle, she decides to avoid her problems in a way that was affective for many others.

Alcohol.

Her journey leads to Junior's bar, where she ends up meeting Roman Torchwick, who offers her a job. Led by the curiousity of the Cat, she decides to accept it.

And so Ruby starts her new life, free from the burdains of a leader, trying to find a new meaning to her new, caotic existence.

But she's no monster, she also doesn't want Salem to win. How will she manage this?

No fucking clue, we're not there yet; the story just covered the events of volume 1.

I really liked it and can't wait for the next update. Ruby tends to fall a bit out of character, but considering her mental state, it's not that noticeable or bothersome.

I personally found the way the writer portrayed Ruby's suicide attempt somewhat teraputic. Probably in the way only formally suicidal people who cope using humor can, so keep that in mind.

Also, Yang walks in on Ruby trying to paint her room red in chapter 1, so after that, I really want those two to interact. (It's a one pov fic)

Also, it turns out I absolutely LOVE the trope of Ruby somehow joining Torchwick. If you have recommendations for that, I'd love to read them! (I read Found The Good In Souls Gone Bad and am planning a recommendation post for that too in the near future.)

Lines living rent free in my head, for better or worse:

“Ruby, put the gun down.”

“Hmmm, nope!”

“The fuck haven’t you cut her off? Do you know how bad it would look for a kid to drink herself to death here, we’d have cops swarming the place faster than a flock of Nevermores!”

“...A murder.”

“That’s right Junior, you let something like that happen in my city and the Xiongs are going to have to arrange a funeral.”

“Uh, no, it’s just… you said a flock, a group of Nevermore are called a murder.”

“Junior, I fucking hate you.”

She didn’t feel like she needed to vomit but Qrow had said that exact thing before covering her shoes in barf more than once.

“Neo! If you don’t tell me where you hid my coffee I swear to whatever God that will listen that I’ll cut you off from ice cream!”

When Ruby’s fingers wrapped around the crystal she felt… something. Fear wasn’t the right word, it was more like terror. The image of a rolling dark mass of energy flew through Ruby’s mind, there wasn’t any pain, just existence one second and none the next.

Huh, neat, that was interesting. Whelp, into the case it went. Ruby had gone through far too many mind breaking realizations lately to be shocked by the fact that Dust was actually wizard bones.

“So Red, Neo wants to know why you decided to make sweet love to your rib cage with the business end of my steak knife… Got an explanation?”

“I dunno, just wanted to see if I could bleed.”

“So… How’d you join up with Roman?"

“He found me trying to drink myself to death at Junior’s, the rest’s history.”

“Aww, come on! How’m I gonna be a good terrorist if I don’t know what we’re blowing shit up for?"

Come back Ruby. I swear, I’m not racist.

Bonus from the notes and the comments:

I'm here, I'm queer.

Welcome back everyone to the latest installment of my bullshit.

Hi there, its your resident sick bitch back with another serving of my customary bullshit.

Yang: Ruby please don't

Ruby: shut up I'm thinking

[aria-ashryver]

Moving Day

Book: Immortal Desires

Pairing: m!Cas x m!Gabe x nb!MC (Luca O'Rinn)

Ratings/Warnings: Mature - swearing, brief mentions of/references to: biphobia, domestic violence, and homelessness

Words: 1.5K

Summary: As Gabriel and Luca help Cas pack up his apartment in preparation to move out, Cas reflects on the person he became there, the people he loves, and how he feels about his identity as a bisexual man.

A/N: So, I've been far too sick to write much at all lately, so I didn't think I'd get a chance to write something specifically for Bisexual Awareness Week. But as things turned out, the next installment of "Snow in Crimson, Starlight in Gold" has a Cas POV scene where he is reflecting on what it means to him to be bisexual and how grateful he is to have Gabe and Luca in his life. So I thought I'd share this excerpt here as a standalone fic! (It can be read as such without needing to read the full longfic, or the full Chapter 36) 💜

Happy Bisexual Awareness Week lovelies! 🏳️‍🌈🏳️‍🌈🏳️‍🌈

@choicesficwriterscreations

Cas had always hated rain.

Before, when he was still a kid, it’d mean his father had withdrawn to the house, shooed inside by the weather. The drizzle clung to him, an extra layer of irritability slicked on top of an already volatile man. Like a mist of motor oil and gunpowder.

Later, it had meant nights with little sleep, hunched in doorways, or park benches, or, when he was lucky, the cramped space between the men’s shoe store and the thrift shop on 48th. It meant waking with wet shoes and fever sinking into his underfed bones.

Now? Gabriel and Luca warming his apartment with their light and laughter? The rain outside was almost comforting. Homely.

He’d never really thought of himself as being particularly attached to his apartment, but seeing it as it was now, plucked apart around him and gently dismantled by loving hands, Cas saw the echoes of himself spelled out over the years.

The broken, old skateboard he’d bought second-hand when he’d first started going to Crimson Beech High. He'd nearly run Margo over doing kick-flips in the parking lot. She’d shoved him off and snapped it clean in two without ever breaking eye contact, and right then, Cas had known they’d become great friends.

The box of illegal fireworks he’d bought with Rory that one 4th of July weekend. The prick had chased him with a Roman candle, shooting shell after crackling shell of brightly coloured explosion at his ass, cackling like a maniac all the while. Cas had ducked and weaved and laughed his ass off, the vampirism freshly-settled in his cells giving him speed enough to avoid each searing, galaxy burst. The lights had danced against the water over Montworth Bridge; Cas watched on through eyes of silver, knowing he had never seen fireworks even half as beautiful before.

There was a compact of metallic eyeshadow —the first he’d ever bought— far from striking range of his father’s fists and curious about his hitherto quiet and unexplored bisexuality. Nicole Morelli, of all fucking people, had lounged with him in one of the Nexus common rooms and taught him to do a flawless cut-crease.

Cas’s venture into living in an apartment of his own, a place he could fill with stuff of his own, it was an open floor to find out more about himself. Sure, he’d lived in the Nexus in the years immediately after his turning, and he’d gone to ground for a while to let his old self truly die, but he hadn’t ceased to be a Venandi in all the time he’d slept.

The Venandi weekly stipend kept on rolling in. Astoria might be a hard ass at times, but she took damn good care of her kids. Even though he was still leery of relying too heavily on it —old habits die hard and all that— Cas had woken from his years-long slumber to find himself in possession of a damn healthy savings account.

So, he’d done what any young man thrust into sudden means would do, and bought a truly shitty car and paid his first months’ rent for his very own apartment.

Hair band posters. Glam rock and punk on blast. Hot pink eyeliner and fresh piercings that healed as he watched and his first pair of Docs with chains that rattled around his ankles with every swaggering step. Buckles, straps, hardware on every last scrap of clothing he could thrift. Patches and badges and eclectic pieces of fashion like that denim jacket New Kid had creamed their pants over. There was a time before Cas settled on his current aesthetic where his outfits all but screamed his sexuality with a stolen megaphone.

Once, he’d wondered what his old man would say if he could have seen him. He’d promptly decided he didn’t give a shit.

It didn’t matter that his old man didn’t get it. He hated Cas enough already, what did it matter if his son wasn’t straight on top of everything else? Honestly, Cas thought his father would have had less disdain if he’d just come out as gay instead of bi. It seemed to have pissed him off more that his kid was “halfway normal”.

As if Cas had had a girlfriend when he was fourteen, but when they broke up, he just up and decided he liked guys as well.

“Just because”.

Like he’d had a chance to be a “real man”, but he’d up and ruined it by liking guys, too. Because he wanted to act out, be a freak, piss off his old man on purpose.

Cas threw a shirt into a duffel bag with a snarl. Honestly, if his sexuality had been a choice, Cas would have chosen to be bi anyway, for that exact reason. Fucking prick.

He’d gone to Pride for the first time with Val one year, their cheekbones smeared with bi flag glitter, the bomber jacket he wore splattered with vibrant pinks and purples and blues. In the negative space on the back, it bore a giant middle finger.

That was how Cas felt about his bisexuality, sometimes.

He wore it loud, he wore it unapologetic… he wore it shirtless beneath his jacket, save for a harness biting tight across his pecs, and damn but it looked good on him.

He’d hooked up with a guy for the first time, that night. A mutual friend of Val and Remus on coven exchange from Morocco, who he’d gotten to know over shots and several hours grinding at some oversaturated neon club he’d long since forgotten the name of.

Cas swore he was still getting glitter out of his pubes a full year later.

…Totally worth it, though.

Eventually he pulled back from the sheer amount of colour in his wardrobe — it was easier to thrift edgier, streetwear fits in monochrome palettes, and besides, dyeing his hair scratched that particular itch. Now, if he wanted to to wear his sexuality so loud the homophobes choked, he had two fucking flawless boyfriends he could make out with in the middle of the street downtown.

‘What’s got you smirking?’ Luca asked, aiming a kick at his shins as he wandered past to grab the packing tape.

‘Oh, you know.’ Cas shrugged, batting him back with a feral grin. Luca squared up, laughing, bouncing on the balls of his feet. ‘Just thinking about sticking my tongue down your throat.’

‘Do it, coward.’

Luca launched a jab at Cas’s stomach. Cas let it connect, mostly because the butterfly-soft punches Luca threw when they didn’t have vampire blood in their system made him laugh, they were so fucking light. Cas juked to the left, grabbing Luca by the shoulder to tug them into a grapple, the line of their spine warm and fluid against his chest.

‘Keep talking shit and I might!’ Leaning down, Cas grazed his teeth along Luca's neck, nipping sharply, before he pulled them into a kiss.

He loved feeling his boyfriends smile when he kissed them, Cas thought, a satisfied growl warming the back of his throat. It made him want to burn down the world, just to keep them warm.

Cas’s apartment had been a place for him to just be, to become. Choi Taeyong was shoved aside and buried, surfacing only when the nightmares clutched him by the throat and he woke in a cold sweat, thrashing and tangled in his sheets as phantom, uncaring hands wrote the echo of bruises into his skin.

It hadn’t necessarily been a place of healing, Cas supposed, hauling a stack of towels from the storage closet to pad around a framed wall print of a Harley Davidson Gabriel was taking down from the wall. But it had been a place of refuge for him to get to know himself as an adult, with all his scars. Every facet of his identity. A place to find a version of himself he liked.

Gabriel groaned as he eyed the next art piece on the wall. He tugged it down, turning it over in his hands so Cas could read the words on the front of the warped metal.

“Evidence Locker”.

‘Tell me you didn’t steal this from the Sheriff’s Office,’ Gabriel said.

Cas grinned. ‘Alright. “I didn’t steal that from the Sheriff’s Office”.’

‘You’re supposed to tell the truth, not just regurgitate what I say!’

Cas dodged the sign as Gabriel lobbed it at him in exasperation, reaching for him and pulling him into a hug, just because he could.

‘Don’t think you can charm your way out of this,’ Gabriel chided, winding his arms around his waist.

‘I always do,’ Cas said, and bent his head to kiss him. Laughter, sunny and gold, burst against his lips.

Gabriel hummed happily. ‘What was that for?’ he asked. His tone might have been accusing, but Gabriel couldn't keep the smile from his face.

‘Mmm, advance payment for vacuuming later,’ Cas teased, and meant “because I love you”.

‘Menace.’ Chuckling, Gabriel tossed the sign into the trash pile.

Healing would come, Cas knew. And with Gabriel and Luca in his life, especially? He didn’t stand a chance of keeping the fractures in his soul locked up in the dark. Those two motherfuckers poured goodness into everything they touched, made them shine with love.

He’d be no different.

[muiltifandomnerd]

Adventures of Chika Hanabusa: The Restoration of Earth

Disclaimer: This book follows the events of Percy Jackson and Heros of Olympus fanfic, this fanfic will not include Trails of Apollo, The Kane Chronicles, and Magnus Chase.

Chapter 3: The Conversation

Demeter PoV

I help my Roman children with growing a harvest of different plants that fruits and vegetables grow on.

"When are we going to see you again Mother?" Denise asks. Denise is a short African-American nine-year-old girl. She wears a cute T-shirt with a teddy bear and jeans. She got her father’s eyes and his smile.

“Next weekend child, I’m here to talk to your Greek half-sister about a quest and to bless this year's harvest," I say with a loud voice, I hope I didn’t ruin my children’s eardrums.

"Ok by the way I got an A on my science test," Denise says in an enthusiastic loud voice while she jumps up and down. I high-fived her and gave her a crushing hug.

I remember I used to be all innocent and hyperactive while I was living inside Cronus's stomach. Hestia used to scold Poseidon and me whenever we played too rough with each other or when we were too loud. I can't forgive Cronus for swallowing us when we were just babies, I still hear Mother's horrified shrieks whenever I think back to the moment. All I can hope for my kids is that they don’t have to deal with a crazy parent and live happy, peaceful lives away from quests and wars. Unfortunately, my children must endure two wars because of Cronus and Grandmother. Grandmother warned me of the future of her coming back to rampage.

Flashback (After the Defeat of Cronus)

I was sitting on a harvest field away from the other gods. Zeus, Poseidon, and Hades just drew their lots and got their kingdoms. At least Hera, Hestia, and I get to decide on what domains we proceed over. Hestia chose to be the goddess of the hearth, while Hera was still at Oceanus's palace.

As was I wonder around my thoughts. RUMBLE! RUMBLE! CRACK!!, What is causing that commotion? A woman appearsoutside the crack in the ground. She has brown hair like the color of roots and eyes that are green like the earth She wears a pant that is full of metals and molten rocks and a shirt that is made of green vines.

“Sorry about the rumbling and the cracking noises. So are you still deciding deal granddaughter?" My grandmother, Gaia, asked in a low calm tone. Her voice is the movement of the ground.

"Not as of yet Lady Gaia, What do I owe such pressure for your presence?” I asked curiously. What does the Earth want with a goddess of no domains?

“I’m here to tell of your destiny. Your brothers have drawn for kingdoms, but you will have tougher work than your brothers, that is if you want it?” Gaia asked with full conviction, and she glared similarly to that of predators hunting prey. I had a feeling that she expected me to say yes to a proposition. You can never know what the old ones are cooking.

"It must be a serious deal if you are glaring at me like that. Am I going to inherit the Earth or something?" I say with nervous laughter.

“It will be similar to that; you will be in charge of keeping the Earth fertile and to keep the harvest going like that of your father," Gaia says in a monotone.

“So, you want me to take care of you, but why me? All I did was help my sibling fight my father, Zeus was the one who stroked Cronus down.” I questioned why Grandmother was willing to trust me with the huge responsibility.

"It's because you are the most responsible of your siblings. Your brothers are too ambitious for their good, Hera fantasizes about marriage, and Hestia just wants to take care of the palace. Now will you accept being a Goddess of Agriculture?" Gaia said while she was looking for an answer.  This is huge, I like growing plants and I like nature. I never thought that the Earth was offering a domain to me.

I jumped up, raised my fist in the air, and shouted excitedly, “Yes!Yes!Yes!” and Gaia softened her eyes and had a small smile. I bowed in front of her, and she touched my shoulders.

“Rise Demeter, Goddess of Agriculture." She shouts as a green light emits from her hands to my shoulder. I can see all the environments and civilizations within the earth, and I feel my whole pupils and irises turning green like Grandmother.

“You will eventually get more domains as you mature and eventually the Earth. Since you are a young goddess, do you want to have children and get married?” Gaia asks in a curious tone, why does a primordial need to worry about whether a goddess is married or not?

"I do want kids, but I don't want to get married, especially to Zeus and Poseidon. I want to be free from court life and have a farm. Maybe fuck some sexy men and women, doesn't matter to me.” I say in a carefree tone and waving my hands dismissively, I can just imagine my kids and I have a huge farm for ourselves.

"I don't blame you; Zeus and Poseidon think with their groins. Most of your children will live peaceful, happy lives, however, there will be two that will suffer tragic fates. One will forever be bound to the Underworld while the other will be bound to me.” Gaia warned in a sad tone. That’s not possible, How can Grandmother warn me about this? What does Gaia's prediction mean with one bound to the Underworld and the other to her?

“The Fates and even Ananke herself are not too certain about how your child will be bound to the Underworld and the other to me. All I can do is warn you about their fates, you will have to watch all your brood.” Gaia says in a sorrowful tone, I can see her with tears coming up in her eyes and looking down at the ground or herself literally. I'm guessing she doesn't like how one of her future children will be the one to take away her freedom.

"Promise me Demeter to love your children about all else. Your children will need your love to live. I'm afraid that you will have a similar fate to me and your mother, even if you didn't marry the king. The curse of the Earth Mother if you will" Gaia says with a bitter chuckle.

I sobbed about my future children’s cruel fates, and I cried “I don’t know about how one of my children can be bound to the Underworld, but if my child is bound to you. Please promise in the name of Chaos that no matter what, you will look after her.”

"Granddaughter I will not be the same woman that is having this discussion with you right now. I might become hateful and wrathful in the future. I'm sorry, but I can't promise you that I will protect your child. The only way to guarantee safety from my influence is to make sure that your child's will is strong and incorruptible. This is goodbye." Gaia says that a single drop of lava comes from her eyes as her form dissolves in the ground.

It seems all I can do is raise my children lovely and make them strong so that they can survive such cruel fates.

Flashback Over

While hugging Denise, I could feel Grandmother's presence growing more vital inside Chika. Persephone is the one who was bound to Hades, meanwhile, Chika is the one who will bear Gaia's hatred. Once Chika is awake, I will warn her about Grandmother and the other issues affecting my domain.

[cdragons]

Like the Wave, She Broke; But Like the Sea, She Persevered

Chapter 2: You are my Best Friend, the Family I Chose, the Home I Found

Previous Chapter, Next Chapter

A Robb Stark X Yi Tish Reader/OC Story

Author's Note: The Reader/OC will be mentioned but not written in this chapter, but she will make an appearance in the next one. I do not own Game of Thrones or ASOIAF or any of GRRM works. But please no hate, but please comment, like, or reblog if you liked reading this story and want me to continue! Also the OC's name and her pet's name are not in Mandarin but in Romanization because the characters in this chapter are thinking in English.

Also many thanks and love to @valeskafics as my beta! Check out her work if you don't follow her already, she's amazing!

Warnings: sexual content, sexual abuse, mentions of SA and r*pe but no descriptions, violence and violent themes, depression, suicidal actions, mentions of PTSD & survivor's guilt, offensive and racist terms, GOT canonical misogyny & sexism, angst (so much angst), and dark/yandere attitudes.

Previously in “Like the Wave, She Broke; But Like the Sea, She Persevered”:

“A place where she would meet another Greyjoy, but a different Greyjoy, a better one. A Greyjoy whose blood was Ironborn, but his heart would be northern. A northern boy whose blood carried the salt of the sea, but whose heart and soul were strengthened and bathed by the snow, the trees, and the winds of northern land. A boy who she distrusted before slowly and surely becoming her found brother, and she becoming his found sister.”

Theon’s POV:

Theon Greyjoy was somewhat of an enigma to most people, and to himself if he dared to be honest. He was known as Robb Stark’s best friend and brother, but Gods Old and New help him if he forgot that he was young Lord’s, no sorry, the young King’s inferior. He was the rakish and obnoxious ward graciously taken in by the honorable Eddard Stark, late Lord of Winterfell and House Stark, Warden of the North. But the term “ward” doesn’t hide the fact that he was their captive, their hostage. A hostage who at the age of ten, was robbed from his family, his culture, his home, after witnessing hundreds of Iron Island sailors and civilians being completely annihilated, just to be plopped down in the middle of a frozen mainland where no one likes him. Ned Stark may never have beaten him, but that didn’t mean the fact that he could with full jurisdiction send Theon to the gallows with a single word, and no one would bat an eye. He was supposed to an Ironborn, except he wasn’t, not since he lived amongst mainlanders for the past decade. He wasn’t a Northerner and couldn’t be a Stark, and he certainly wasn’t an Ironborn and he despised being a Greyjoy. He wished he wasn’t one the moment he stepped foot on the mainland, since he was brought to Winterfell, since he felt the gaze Lady Catelyn Stark’s cold and righteous eyes. But by the Drowned Man, he never hated his family name so much until he knew you.

Oh gods, you. He couldn’t help the sheer pride and love in his smile thinking about you, even in his sorry state. Because despite how his body still healing from the wounds brought by the ambushed arrows, the pure elation and shock from you storming the shit-stained Frey keep with five-thousand men (if he wasn’t so fucking plastered, he would’ve cried) and saving Robb and most of their asses, with minimal losses of only 157 men 158 if you include Talisa. You had even managed to subdue both Roose Bolton and Walder Frey before dragging their asses to the prison cells, along with the rest of their traitorous kin. However, there wasn’t time to celebrate their (really your) victory as you immediately put everyone to work. For someone who worked in the shadows, you looked so natural in organizing the camp to sections reserved for healing those who survived, and preparing the burials for those whose lives were lost. After that, you rushed every lord whose mind was just lucid enough in the largest empty tent. You insisted that finding whoever assisted the Frey’s in this ordeal, as Walder Frey may have been a vile greedy cunt, he wasn’t a tactical mastermind. And while Roose Bolton was an apathetic amoral sociopath, he could never possess the imagination for something so grand scale. After countless sleepless hours, the pieces were all put together, and ice that froze every lord’s blood in learning that this was a premeditated trap engineered by one fucking Lord Tywin Lannister of Casterly Rock. The chaos and fury that followed was a sight to be memorized and passed on for years to come, any lost morale before that moment came back by a thousandfold strong. The southern snakes had really done it now, even if the plan had worked, the North would only drawback until they could strike once more. If there was one thing about the North that would always remain true, it was the fact that the North and its men never forget, especially an act as sacrilegious as what they now call the “Red Wedding”.

Every lord was shouting and screaming out blame, whether it be the execution of Lord Karstark, the release of the Kingslayer, the broken oath to the Frey’s, and on and on did they go. They didn’t stop until Lord Umber blamed on Theon for his father’s invasion to the North (despite that 1) he didn’t even know about the bloody invasion, and 2) he never left the fucking camp), and the usually mild-tempered Daiyu leapt on the table and knocked the Greatjon Umber on his great ass in retaliation. The sight of you in command will never leave him, not even when he had forgotten his own name and was too feeble to wipe his own ass. Even in your most irritable state, you dared not publicly showcase your emotions. But everything from the cold fury in your eyes to the raw determination in your spine, was enough to freeze a dragon’s fire. By reminding everyone while nothing can change the past, this event only further proves how there is no limit to the Lannister’s teachery, and that it was imperative to secure the North’s independence from the Southern leeches. You then told them of how you learned of the plan through a deal with a stranger wearing a red tunic and grey cloak, and that if they managed to survive the treachery, they were to immediately send word to Dragonstone.

“Dragonstone,” shouted out Lord after Daiyu grew bored of him and was now contently purring against Theon’s legs as he stood by you, “why in the seven hells would we send word to Dragonstone? So that we can get pissed over by Stannis Baratheon? How do we know you didn’t just make up the deal so that we could bend the knee to Stannis, or perhaps you’ve been working for the Lannister’s with the Boltons and Frey’s? Well? Answer me you chink-”.

Theon drew out his sword the second before he could finish, “You take those words back and beg for my sister’s forgiveness right now before I cut your tongue out and feed it to my falcon, you rancid shit.” Theon could allow disrespect against him, he grown used to it after all; but he would be flayed, eaten by hounds, and broken to a shell of a man before he allowed anyone to utter a word of disrespect to you, let alone that word. Each of the bannerman’s eyes shifted between the men, as most knew better than insult the mysterious spy from the far orient in the presence of the young Kraken. If Theon was not with their king, he was by his sister’s side, arm over her shoulders and her head on his, more often in silence as words were never needed in order to take comfort in one another.

And the girl was no different in her devotion to her brother, as her protection over him was as ruthless as it was creative. More than once had there been instances of soldiers throughout the camp making claims ranging from mad visions in their sleep to horses stampeding them throughout the woods to those who spoke ill of the Stark’s ward. The bannerman would have demanded their king to call for her head hadn’t her punishments been more amusing than irritating. Not that it would have worked, if there was only one thing the two young men had in common, it was the devout protection they showered the stoic spy. Even when the young king broke his oath to the Frey’s to marry his pretty foreign healer, did he remain true in his defense if anything it only grew. Such was the case with his own direwolf, who although remains steadfast in guarding his currently comatose companion, adored the Yi Tish girl far more than the now late queen if they were honest, as he was often seen being petted and fed scraps by her and even playing with her shadowcat. However, they just reasoned it was due to being acquainted with one another since the pup’s arrival at Winterfell shows what they know.

You placed a hand on your brother’s wrist, stopping any further action on his part towards Lord Umber. Theon’s eyes immediately darted down to your hand, and then looked at you. To an outsider, the act would look no different than a scolding to a child; however, those who had watched the two grow together, like one Lady Catelyn Stark, recognized the interaction to be one of the many of silent conversations between the two of you. Her eyes darting down to her late husband’s ward’s wrist, eyeing the rather poorly made charm bracelet you had gifted him for his name day so many years ago. Being a ward to one of the seven great houses, Theon was gifted many precious things, from expertly made blades to fine cloaks; but that little…thing was the item he treasured more than life itself, that and his loyal falcon, Ari. A falcon abandoned by its mother, was found by Theon and was assisted in healing the poor creature by none other than you.

A moment passed, and another had gone by, followed by a few more before Theon reluctantly lowered his arm and sheathed his sword. You turned your gaze to Greatjon once more, hand still holding on your brother’s wrist, before speaking in a loud and clear manner, “I will graciously ignore you accusing that I would ever betray House Stark, even going so far to suggest that I would ever switch loyalties to a southern house I had never cared, but may I first ask you what is the purpose of the North’s campaign to the South?”

“Pah! Aye, I can tell you, to march down to King’s Landing and swing our steel at enough of their piss-haired inbred to free the North-,” Greatjon was interrupted by the slamming of your fist to the table.

“WRONG!” You exclaimed, “Our goal from the beginning, our true purpose was to free our Lord Eddard Stark and his daughters from King’s Landing, and upon his death, we swore to avenge him and rescue his children! Have you forgotten my lords, forgotten Ned Stark, late Lord of Winterfell, the man you swore fealty to when you bent the knee to his house? Now we stand, fighting in a war, leagues from our North, miles from King’s Landing, from his daughter who he loved and cherished so dearly that he confessed to crimes he did not commit in attempt to save her from the lion’s den? Does Ned Stark stand here, does his daughter Lady Sansa? In fighting for the North’s freedom, we had forgotten our first goal, our true purpose! To avenge the blood of House Stark, to fight and protect their children! And as a result, the Gods have punished us for forgetting that purpose to the state we see ourselves in now. We have lost our greatest bargaining chip, half our men in taking Lord Karstark’s head, and now with greater losses in numbers with the betrayal from both House Frey and House Bolton. We may have regained one wolf, but such a miracle cannot be claimed by us as it had been Ser Sandor who brought her home.” Your words brought the attention of Sandor Clegane, who was standing in a corner. He was observing the scene unraveling before, in both shock that you thanked him for his act, and cursing you for bringing any attention at him at all.

“And do not ignore that another young wolf still remains at the lions’ mercy. And if Sandor’s words of her treatment hold truth, then I fear that her livelihood is at more risk than ever when word reaches the Red Keep that Tywin Lannister’s plan had failed.” Your voice grew more somber and quieter as you finished your speech. It seemed as if time had stopped, shame overtook every lord’s and lady’s face at your words, and Lady Catelyn knelt on the ground, sobs overtaking her body. The relief and joy in being reunited with her Arya, was overshadowed by the realization that still had one daughter far from her arms. Greater grief struck her in learning that her sweet Sansa had been routinely beaten and ridiculed at court by Joffery’s orders.

Ever so carefully, you knelt beside her, and gently placed your hand on her shoulder before grasping her to stand while allowing her to take comfort in your strong but gentle grip. You quickly called for a squire to fetch some cool water before handing Lady Stark a simple but clean handkerchief to wipe her tears. Such an act of familiarity to a highborn from a lowly spy would never be tolerated in normal circumstances, but no one dared to point this out, fearing that their Lady would fall apart had it not been for your support. After what seemed to have been an eternity to pass, Lady Maege Mormont of Bear Island stepped forward.

“The girl is right.” Her voice left no room for argument, “In fighting for our freedom, we had forgotten our people, our past leader, and his own blood. We lost sight of our true goal, and in doing so we allowed ourselves to be vulnerable to our enemies. Right now, Stannis Baratheon is our best hope in retrieving Ned Stark’s daughter. And we need all of the hope we can get, be it in numbers or supplies.” The next words coming out the fierce Mother Bear of House Mormont shook everyone to their core, “I can sacrifice our independence, I can bend the knee to another Southerner, but I cannot call myself a northerner if I forget my oath in avenging the Quiet Wolf, along with Jory Cassel, and the rest of the northern men that died in that rotten keep.”

“But how can expect Stannis to hope true in his word, is he even aware such a deal took place?” Lord Rysell rose from his seat, his voice filled with trepidation. “After all, was it not Stannis who killed Renly, his own brother, his very own blood? How can we expect a Southerner, nay, a KINSLAYER to hold even a weight of honor after witnessing the mutiny we all had barely escaped with our lives? And what of the cost? What was traded for such information?”

“Stannis Baratheon along with Jon Arryn had been running King Robert’s kingdom throughout his entire reign. While Jon Arryn tried to reign in Robert, Stannis was the one who had actually proposed new laws in attempt to benefit the kingdom. This was a man who at age of 17, held his brother’s castle at Storm’s End and ate shoes and rats rather than surrendering to a hopelessly superior army from both land and sea. He, who ensured that his men, smallfolk, and his little brother were fed before him. And more importantly, Stannis has ships, ships that can lay siege to King’s Landing by targeting Blackwater Bay, should he want for an alliance.” Theon couldn’t keep the pride out of his eyes, here you stood, recounting the accomplishment of one man, stunning every lord by your extensive knowledge of military history in perfect clarity. Those hours spent in the Winterfell library and extensive lessons with Maester Luwin seemed to have paid off.

“As for the matter of honor, this war will not be won through honor, no this is war that will be done on the matter of duty.” Tears threatened to spill from your eyes as you braced your body in continuing, “Ned Stark’s duty as Hand of the King was to the kingdom. In choosing his honor, he lost his head. Robb Stark chose love over duty, and it cost him the lives of his wife, his child, and nearly 3000 of our men. Our duty to the North was to avenge Ned Stark’s death and protect his children, and in that we have failed miserably. Whether Stannis Baratheon is honorable remains to be seen, but it was his devotion to his duty had made his men so loyal to him and his enemies call him a man ‘truly just.’ As for the matter of proof, I would hope that this message that bears his seal to provide some comfort.” You hand a creased letter to Catelyn Stark for confirmation. After vigilant investigation, she confirmed that it was indeed written in his hand and that seal bore House Baratheon’s sigil, along with the seal of Dragonstone.

“And I can assure you my lords that the price was more than fair,” your confidence was slowly diminishing as you chose your next words carefully, “all that was asked from the stranger was that I sail from Seagard to a locate an individual and escort them to somewhere Beyond the Wall, afterwards I would be told more details of my mission from there.”

“What comes after you get those details and finish escorting them?” Theon didn’t recognize his own voice. “Do they send you somewhere else, who’s this person, where are you going?” Seven hells, is that panic in his voice? “When do you come back?”

You looked towards your precious brother, eyes trying to convey a hidden message you don’t dare to speak aloud. You take a deep and shaky breath before clearing your throat in an attempt to keep your voice steady and clear, “I don’t.”

And just like that, chaos erupts once more.

Theon doesn’t realize he was asleep before being so rudely pulled out of his dream…memory?

“Well, memory it may have been, but a nightmare to relive it once more.” Theon thought as he tried to focus on his surroundings, before seeing the reason he was awoken in the first place. On his chest, stood a majestic falcon gazing into the eyes of his owner. Despite being a first-class hunter, one would think this bird of prey that feeds on both fish and birds alike by swooping at tremendous speed with little to no sound, was really a smaller parrot if others knew how spoiled Ari was for attention and treats. “Forget Robb, the real challenge will be in keeping this little fellow from going mad from losing his main benefactor,” thought Theon as he lovingly stroked a finger on Ari’s head, the falcon sweetly preening from attention from his beloved savior.

“THEON!” A familiar voice bellowed as the footsteps whom Theon was sure belonged to one auburn-curled king grew louder as they stride closer to his tent.

“Speak of the devil, and he shall appear. Knowing what will soon come, I only hope to find a barrel of ale to drown my sorrows in afterwards.” And with that being his final thought before rising from his cot and just finished dressing himself before his tent’s flap flew open, and in came the Young Wolf with a fury so terrible it would bring down the Wall.

Robb’s POV

After arriving at the camp, Robb immediately jumped down his horse and demanded a steward to take care of his steed before he marched forward with only one person in mind, Theon Greyjoy. His father’s ward, his best mate, his brother without blood and in-arms, and the brother to one particular Yi Tish girl that was sailing further and further from where she belonged. If there was one person who knew where she was going, it was Theon. He had to know, Li and Theon had a bond between them. A bond that Robb loathed to admit many times, as it was that bond that could not be easily shattered or poisoned as such with the bonds of mere companions or even lovers. For companions, some periods of time apart would often do the trick, but even on the most drawn-out operations his father sent you out on, time only proved to strengthen the bond as you would return with tales of the people you were sent out to watch, and even come back with small gifts as tokens of fond remembrance. Every single one of those gifts, no matter how often Theon would act as if he were given something burdensome, were treasured and placed inside a wooden box that he secretly commissioned one of keep’s craftsmen to create in order to store them. Even if you two were lovers, however painful that would be for him, it would be of great comfort to Robb knowing that it such affections would one day pass. No matter how great the flames of passion arose, they would usually die out, especially in one’s youth. In your case, hopefully in a way so spectacularly horrendous that it would kill any hope of rekindling those flames ever again. But no, instead you two stubbornly remained siblings, and your bond was that of great platonic love and adoration. It baffled Robb to no end as to why the two of you remained so insistently loyal to one another, but it was the same answer every time Robb brought out his frustrations.

“He is my brother,” you would say without fail. “He is the family I chose to love and cherish, and so I will choose him. I will choose him every time.” You would look directly at him, with your big brown almond-shaped eyes, so warm and frank, as if you were stating so completely plain and obvious to a tempering child.

“Can’t you choose me? I would choose you. I could be your family.” Robb exclaimed in great exasperation at your persistence. After all, why couldn’t he be your family? He who saw how well you played and calmed his younger siblings when he, his mother, his father, and even the septas were too busy; who would always help you whenever you stumbled upon a difficult word that you couldn’t spell or pronounce; who would show you the secrets of the Winterfell Keep that he would not even show to Jon or Theon; he who saw your secret smiles and hidden protection you bestowed upon the many strays and smallfolk children in the village town. By the Seven’s sake, he was to be the Lord of Winterfell and of the North after his father, who better than him to take care of you?

“No,” you stressed out, “No Robb, you couldn’t. You and I could never be each other’s family, not the way that he and I are, not in the way you want us to be.” You looked at him with your eyes, your big, brown, warm, cruel eyes; eyes that looked so genuinely apologetic that it almost made him forget his anger, almost. “I’m sorry.”

“Why not?” Robb was sure that he sounded pathetic, but he needed to know, to understand, why he couldn’t be the one for you. Was it the differing status between you both, did his mother speak ill to you when he and his father were unable to witness it, or was it because you had feelings of love for someone else, someone not him? Oh gods, he could feel his young heart breaking at that final thought.

“Theon and I…”, you tried to find the words that could capture the meanings you didn’t know the words to, words that were not in any of the languages you had learned and spoken, “he and I are bonded. In a way that goes beyond words, beyond simply moments and memories. It is built on an understanding that only the two of us know of, something you have never and I pray that you never will understand, because it is a pain that very few our age knows about, and that is really all I can say of the matter.” With that being the final word, you turned and walked away, leaving the young heir more lost and aggravated than ever.

“Oh Li, my sweet, darling Li.” Robb thought as he admonished your words with tender childing. “How could you be so blind to your so-called brother’s selfish and arrogant ways? Do you not see how he would ruin you, how he would twist your naïve and tender heart with his cunning words and leering eyes?” After all, brother or not, Robb was not as stupid as many would like to him to be. Yes, he would admit that marrying Talisa was in poor taste, especially in letting her believe that she meant far greater to him than her original purpose. A purpose to strictly bring physical comfort and to destress after hard-fought battles, as well as to help him forget that he was to marry one of Walder Frey’s daughters and to forget about you. While he had never meant in their affair to go so far, he will admit that he got carried away with her. He got lost in their conversations and banter, in her altruistic warmth and kindness, he allowed himself to give into the idea of championing love and how it would conquer any obstacle set before him. But most of all, he longed for the idea of sharing a love with someone new, someone who didn’t know him from his youth. He wanted to love someone who didn’t know of the many insecurities that plague his mind whenever he planned for his next battle. He pined at the idea of someone who didn’t see the vulnerable boy he hid away to project the undefeated wolf marching towards the lion’s den. He was desperate for the warmth and frankness that would be rewarded to him from a woman whose love was sweet and generous and easy.

Talisa had been all of that, and more, so much more. She was opposite to you in every way, physical and emotional. The only similarity that could be shared between the two of you would be that your hair was dark, but even in that there were too many differences. You had routinely cut your hair to your armpit, whereas Talisa’s hair flowed past her midback. And upon further inspection, one could see very things streaks of silver and grey as a result of stress, meanwhile there were no such signs in his late wife’s dark locks. Both of your faces were beautiful and similar in some features but your beauty differed in hers not only in the regions of birth, but in evidence of treatment. Both of your faces had a straight nose, downward turned lips, and almond-shaped eyes. But Talisa’s elegant and angular visage contained no markings or blemishes of any kind. There were no crow’s feet, or scars. Even after witnessing her most laborious treatments and amputations, did she contain an angelic maturity that would envy the wealthiest of highborn women. Everything about her… her willowy and pliant frame… unblemished reddish hue complexion…angelic lips…legs that stretched for miles and were connected by full hips…all of it in the form of one truly mythic beauty.  

Whereas you…if Talisa’s beauty could be compared to an angel that glowed compassion and wisdom, yours was that of a survivor that radiated the hardships from years of regimented training for an enduring body and great mental fortitude. Your shoulders and rib cage were broad, but your stomach was slim with a taut core. Your arms were a bit trim, but years in learning how to properly shoot a bow and arrow, along with varying combat made them toned and fine. Your calves were strong and thick and they stretched your trouser legs, and while many insisted you looked more man than woman, you relished in their power in action. Your waist was sinched in a way that showed off the fullness in your hips, and perfectly gave way to your marvelous ass that he stared at more times than he likes to admit, especially with Theon’s overly protective gaze following him no matter the time or place. But he had remained respectful in his gaze if you don’t count the number of times, he spied you while swimming in the springs with the sheer small clothes as your only barrier, or when he watched you bathe in your quarters in the secret compartments or whenever he stroked his cock with an unwavering gaze as you rubbed your clit calling out his name.

While Talisa’s skin bared no markings, there seemed not to be a single patch of skin on your outer framework that didn’t contain a fading mark or scar. Even your proportional facial features: with downward lips that usually remained stoic, and straight framed nose that rarely crinkled even when it was red in the harshest of winters, and eyes that seemed unemotional until one paid close attention in order to see the carefully guarded mirth and gentleness that brightly shone in your peace; were littered with marking brought by you whenever you spied a pimple and removed it, letting it bleed and fester before it healed and scarred. This aggravated his mother and sister Sansa to great lengths, especially Sansa as she would insist that you were spoiling your own beauty and that no man would ever want to marry a woman with such awful scars on her face. You would turn to her stating that you would likely never marry in the first place, nor did you want to leave. Marriage would mean leaving Winterfell, the Stark family, and your new friends, including her who gave you your first gift. This shocked and flustered Sansa, as that “first gift” was a poorly embroidered handkerchief she just wanted to throw away, but instead gave it to you. Not long after, Sansa gifted you a much prettier embroidered handkerchief, one that had little blue flowers sewn across the borders. She insisted that you throw out the first, but you told her that she made both, so both were too important. So, you bought a small wooden box from your meager savings, and tucked both away neatly and lovingly. She still chided you something fierce whenever she caught you picking and scratching your own face. But sometimes Robb would pass by Sansa’s chambers, and double back in shock seeing the two of you conversing (well, more akin to Sansa gossiping and fantasizing about the South while you gave monosyllabic responses) on her bed while she practiced braiding your hair.

This brought up the most glaring difference between you and Talisa, although neither of you were born in Westeros, let alone in the North. But Talisa would never, could never be a Northerner, not in the way he and his family were Northerners as they were Starks, not in the way you grew to be a Northerner. She would never be able to adapt to the bitter cold and snow, could never love the harsh and biting winds, take comfort in the fresh air and scent of smoke wood burning in a hearth the way you had when you were brought to Winterfell by his father. There was no doubt that she would be respected, admired even, but the North and its people would never take to her in the way they took to you. You, who after weeks of careful interrogation and healing, took off running in the Godswoods, climbing its trees, breathing in its holy air, sitting before the weirwood tree with no fear as if you knew it your whole life. While it took a good while for you to gain the castle’s staff trust, it hadn’t taken much time for the village folk to look after you, despite being a foreigner who barely spoke the language. Granted there was the occasional drunk and youthful miscreant who still called after you in offensive terms, but they were quickly taken care of by Theon (who was the third in the keep to take you under his wing, after his father and Maester Luwin).

In return for their kindness, you became somewhat of a silent guardian. You made sure that no wild animals harmed anyone, even those who lived outside the village and in the deep forests; ensured that no child was lost after dark, often returning with bitemarks and long bleeding scratches; and fought off cruel men to the women working in the brothels and the barmaids in the Smoking Log. You even went so far as to “educate” the men who crossed your ire with you... somewhat disturbed skillset from the streets of Qarth. These particular teachings brought you much favor with the town’s women, none more so than Ros (who just so happened to your brother’s favorite whore). So much so that she liked to refer to herself as your “best friend,” a sentiment you returned wholeheartedly, as she was one of the few who heard you laugh, not just a giggle, but a full-bellied laugh, and seen you genuinely smile more times than anyone (besides your brother of course and him). And animals, gods. Don’t even mention to Robb about the animals, he could go on and on about how you seemed determined to take in every stray that wondered around aimlessly, hoping for some scraps of food or a place with walls to keep out the cold. In the first year you were brought, Robb could name over a dozen separate occasions you brought in a stray to care for before being found out. His father had hoped that by letting you keep your beloved shadowcat, you would stop this habit. This caused the very opposite of his hopes to happen, as you had no intention to stop taking in every stray that looked you with sad eyes. You only made sure to hide them in more…discreet locations, mostly in Jon’s and Theon’s rooms, as they shared a fondness for a singular cute creature with sad eyes (you).

But even that was not the limit of your protection. You even provided help to the wives whose husbands abuse them in cruelties beyond imagination, to where these men’s cruelties extend to their own children. These circumstances were tricky to say the least, as there was little to be done as the wife and children belonged to her husband and father, as he was usually the main provider of the family. Very few women dared not indicate any signs of abuse to anyone, much less towards his lord father. Robb was in his father’s solar at the time, learning about his future duties when in you barged in, holding a thick stack of evidence and documentation of not only the alleged offenses, but also proof in showing that these women willingly came to you to bring forth justice, knowing that their Lord Eddard Stark could only do so much. Not only that, but you also found evidence of reports of similar offenses being thrown out, meaning that you took the time and energy to fish out the documents from every trash heap in order to properly present your case.

This is where your true talents laid, in your relentless empathy and your perseverance for change. You may hide your heart in guarded walls made of heavily forged iron, but that didn’t take away the fact that you cared, you cared so deeply. You would use the skills you tirelessly trained for the purpose to protect those who cannot demand protection from those in power and cannot afford to bring attention upon themselves. In presenting the evidence, you asked whether this would be enough to request a change in policy regarding the protection of women and children in not only Winterfell, but across the North. Your body in steeled posture, expecting refusal and rejection, froze in shock in hearing that he would immediately establish a new policy regarding the treatment of familial relations, and punishment in violating that policy would result in amputation or beheading. Immediately, you raced across his desk and hugged him so tightly that Ned Stark was sure you had been possessed by a strange benevolent goblin. Noticing your precarious position, you straightened yourself out and apologized profusely before thanking him and swiftly exiting his solar. When brought up to House Stark’s vassal houses, many protested, though none more so than Lord Roose Bolton, as rumors of him leeching and torturing his wife and smallfolk were legendary in infamy. He questioned why such Lord Stark felt it necessary for such a policy to be implemented, but Robb’s father remained firm in keeping your anonymity, knowing you would be targeted for serious punishment if the lords knew of your identity.

“Being a Lord is like being a father, except you have thousands of children and you worry about all of them. The farmers plowing the fields are yours to protect. The charwomen scrubbing the floors, yours to protect. The soldiers you order into battle.” He paused before continuing, “But it seems, I have forgotten what it means to be a father to many others. I have evidence, of hundreds, if not thousands of reports stating the mistreatment by a family head’s hands. Reports that were never brought to me by men I thought I could trust. As Warden of the North, it is my duty to care for these women and their children, but I have failed in my duty. That is why I have created this law, and any violations of this law will be brought to my attention by the official guards of each house’s town. However, any knowledge of these violations going unpunished will be informed to someone else, someone personally placed and hidden that not even your best spies will find. They will be my eyes and ears; they will be my messengers. Should you bring your own twisted sense of justice upon them, I will know, and as you all know, I’ve never been one to use a headsman to do my beheading.” With that being the final word of the matter, Robb’s father dismissed his men, and called for the ravens to carry out the new law across his land. Robb would never forget those words for as long as he lived.

True to his father’s words, reports of these violations were kept in the known, and the Northern houses were expected to carry out the law’s sentences. Wicked men who violently struck their wives and children without proper justification had their hands chopped off. Those who starved their families were thrown into the dungeons without food or comfort for varying periods of time. And vile rapists had public castrations, and were also faced with beheadings. The lords ceaselessly hired the best spies and sellswords to find Ned Stark’s eyes and ears, but nothing came out of it. Soon enough, crimes of not only this offense, but other unrelated offences started to cease. Time continued forward, and the number of reports continuously dwindled until women felt it safe to walk at night without the need of a dagger, children felt it safe to play with outside after dark, and those with wickedness in their hearts learned what it meant to act properly without needing intervention of a higher power.

Smallfolk across the North sung praises to Ned Stark, for his kind and noble heart, for his true sense of justice, for being a man with true honor and knew the meaning of a lord’s duty of his people. But the women and children of Winterfell knew the truth, and it was you they silently revered. After all, only you listened to their cries, to their pain and anguish. You who searched for proof and evidence until the amount grew so great that you knew it could no longer be ignored. Things were not perfect, no far from it, but they were better. They were so much better, and they had you to thank for that. You were their paragon of justice and truth, someone who pushed for action in their lord’s idleness. One young man came up to you in privacy, and cried his thanks. He revealed to you that he and his brother were raped by their mother since their father’s death, but he could not tell anyone the truth, he could not bear the shame. But thanks to you, that wretched cunt was beheaded, and he could finally take his siblings far down south, where they would hopefully find better work and start a better life. You were silent until you carefully asked the young man if you could have his permission to hug him. When he granted it, you carefully and slowly placed your arms around him before both of you were sobbing and wishing good fortune to one another.

“No,” Robb thought as he almost reached Theon’s tent, “Talisa would never be accepted as his queen, not when you had taken the hearts of Winterfell’s inhabitants.” And as much as he felt guilty for her death and how he wouldn’t truly love her, he knew that this was for the best in the long run. Talisa was intelligent, and kind; but the coming winter would be ruthless, and her warmth would be swept out long before spring would arrive. He did mourn for his child, but he knew that with you by his side, there would be plenty of opportunities to create new heirs, and soon enough Winterfell will be run amok by little wolf pups and laughter once more. “Even if you do not understand it now, you cannot hide your feelings from your mate, little dragon.” As furious as Robb still was by you running from him, he knew that sooner or later that the two of you would find each other once more, and in finding each other, you would rule by his side as his queen and the North would only prosper in your reign together. A reign that would come a lot sooner than later, if he knew where in the seven hells you were off to.

“THEON!” Robb shouted before he stormed into Theon’s tent, he watched with furious eyes at his oldest friend and greatest enemy when it comes to you as Ari off his shoulder and perched on top of Grey Wind’s head. His chest was heaving, his nostrils flared in barely veiled anger, as he vented out the words, “Where is she?”

“With all due respect, your grace,” Theon quipped out as he began to pour himself some water, inhaling it in a few gulps before continuing, “you’ll have to be more specific. I don’t have the faintest idea of who this ‘she’ would be?”

“Oh, so that’s how he wants to play this out,” Robb thought out as he took a deep breath. He should have known better than to expect Theon Greyjoy of all people to give a straightforward answer. He quickly sent Grey Wind out to guard the tent, and not anyone in before curtly replying, “Don’t act dull. You know exactly whom I am referring to.”

Theon sat at his desk before pretended to ponder with his chin in one hand, and elbow in another, before continuing, “No, no, I’m afraid not, your grace. ‘She’ could really be anyone, would ‘she’ happen to be your mother? No, no, no…how about Arya, or perhaps Sansa? No, Arya just got here, and Sansa’s still not here, no thanks to you…Oh! Might ‘she’ be your late wife? The one who you fucked, then married and got killed- “Robb grabbed his throat before he could continue on, fury finally getting the better of him, and slammed the back of Theon’s head on top of the desk.

“Don’t you start with me Greyjoy,” Robb could barely contain himself, but he knew he had to, if only to get the information of where you were heading. He swallowed his pride before loosening his grip, and spoke his next words through clenched teeth, “Where is Long Li going? Don’t even think of lying to me!”

Theon’s eyes softened at the mention of your name, before whispering out, “Are you demanding an answer as my king?” His eyes and voice hardened to prepare saying the next words without spitting at the man above him, “Or as my brother?”

“Aye, I am your brother, now and always, but right now, I come to demand you answer me,” Robb’s voice grew stronger as he stated his next words, “as the man who intends to take her as my future wife and mother of my children and future heirs.” As he finished speaking, Theon felt anger surge throughout his body, and he gripped Robb’s doublet with both hands and flipped him onto his back.

“What makes you think I know?” Theon venomously spat out with a bit of condescension, “And for that matter, what makes you think that I would ever tell you? The boy who threw duty for love, that’s what everyone’s calling you. And for good reason too. Robb Stark, King in the North, the Young Wolf that never lost a battle, almost got 3000 men killed for love, and did get his wife gutted for it.” Theon let out a mocking laugh Robb, who struggled to get out of his grip, only to remain pinned on the desk. “If it weren’t for Li, we’d all be dead, bodies thrown into the river, rotting at the bottom. And because of you, she’s gone, gone with some mad man who could do anything to her.” Theon could feel his throat constricting, but didn’t bother to restrain his worst fears. He wanted Robb to bleed out more than when Roose Bolton shoved an arrow to his chest, “She could be gutted, maimed, or raped by now, and it’d be all your fault.” Theon released his grip and quickly turned away as he wiped the tears running down his cheeks at the thought of you getting hurt, and him not being there to protect you. Recalling your tearful goodbye, filled with gripping hugs and sweet words, and refusal to acknowledge the fear of never seeing each other again. The thought of you, the only person he truly, completely, and unconditionally loved, gone forever killed him. He tried to not completely fall apart as he remembered the final look you gave him before urging your horse into a gallop to put as much distance between you and the camp on your way to Seagard.

“I begged her to not go. I told her that no duty was worth her, that she’s done enough for others and that she should just stay here, where she could be safe.” He let out a bitter laugh before persisting while pacing around his tent, “But she wouldn’t hear of it, said that she had to go, and worst of all, I couldn’t go with her. She said that she needed me here, to make sure that you had your head an’ wits still with you after you wake up. She told me, ‘Robb’s lost too much already, and you’re his best friend. He just lost the woman he loves and their child, he’s going to need you to keep him grounded more than ever now.’” He poured more water, and swung it back before continuing, “‘Keep you grounded’, yea’ fat load of grounding I did before, eh? No matter what me, your mother, or Li told you…you still married your pretty healer queen, because you thought you were entitled to more happiness than the rest of us. Some king you are, you fuckin’ piece of shit.”

Theon finally stopped before sitting on his bed, elbows on his knees and head in his hands, sounding so tired and small that Robb wouldn’t have believe it was him if he weren’t right in front of him, “My sister is gone and might turn up dead and it’s all your fault, Robb Stark. And even if she’s alive, she can’t come back. You’re a shit king for making her doing this, for everything she did so that you’d and your family be safe.” Theon looked up, tears still streaming down his eyes, and stared directly at Robb as he scoffed out the next words, “She left feeling guilty, for so many things, all out of her control. First, for being too weak and injured to outfight the Tarth bitch; second, for not guarding those Lannister boys well enough, and the final part? The last’s the worst ten times over, because she thinks it’s her fault that Talisa and your child got murdered, that if she were just a little quicker and a little smarter and a little better, she’d get there earlier and both of them would make it out breathing. She almost went mad over it you know. I almost had to talk her out of throwing herself off the fucking Frey bridge, as if she hadn’t lost enough of her sanity already.” Both of them went silent after that, only until Robb walked over and sat by Theon and broke the tense silence.

“I didn’t love Talisa,” he rasped out, “I thought I did, I wanted to, but I couldn’t.” He looked at his feet, shame overtaking him as he only just realizes what Theon had lost as a result of his selfishness. “I cared for her, I loved our child, but I didn’t love her. I couldn’t, not when I already love Li, not how I will always love Li.”

“I know,” Theon responded, “I know.” Because while he was still angry, he knew Robb was genuinely sorry, even if he was an entitled prick.

“So,” Robb looked over to ask his old friend, “what happens now?”

Theon took in a deep breath, eyes closed in careful thought before answering, “We get out of this tent, execute some Bolton’s and Frey’s, meet with the bannermen, and make the preparations to Maidenpool to meet with Stannis to bend the knee or some shit.” He then turned his head to look at Robb with his trademark smirk and quipped out, “But before that last part, we’re going to find the biggest barrel of ale we got, and then drain the whole damned thing.”

Robb barks out a quick laugh, and tries to grip himself together in saying, “Perfect, what comes after the ale and before Maidenpool?”

“After the ale, we fight some more, drink some more, and then probably piss ourselves in our sleep.” Theon lists off before the two young men erupt in laughter, both tired of being mad at their best friend. “And before you ask, we’re meeting Stannis at Maidenpool because we got no bloody ships, and it’s going to be you, me, Arya, and Blackfish.” He saw the confused look in Robb’s eyes before going on, “The note asked for me specifically, probably to call me out for treason in being a Greyjoy or something. You’re coming because you’re the King in the North, Arya because two Starks are better than one in this case and your mother is in no state to continue on, my guess is that the bannermen probably want to send her back to Winterfell. And Blackfish is going because he’s a Tully of Riverrun, but he’s not your fuckup Uncle Edmure Tully of Riverrun.”

Robb chuckled out, “Aye, at least he’s not Edmure. And it’d be good for my mother to return to Winterfell, she likely wants to see Bran and Rickon more than she wants to see Sansa.” Satisfied with everything out in the open, the two men got up and called for their animal companions who guarded the tent from onlookers as they had their squabble.

“Come on now,” Theon slapped his king’s back as Ari flew to his right shoulder, “let’s spill some traitor blood and finish this meeting quick. Ale waits for no one.” And Robb laughed and smiled, remembering how good it felt to be laughing with Theon like he had in Winterfell. When everything was alright, his father alive and well, his sisters bickering but together, his mother with all her children, him with Jon and Theon in the training yard teaching Bran and Rickon how to shoot. No war to fight, no battles to be won, and most importantly, you were still by his side.

Please like, reblog, or comment your opinions if you want to, but please remain respectful. If I missed any warnings, let me know.

[slimepuppied]

new sands when im clawing at the bars

I am gonna be so honest with you, anon. i started writing chapter four before starting chapter three because I had an idea that required more trust built between rg before initiating. ( Sands is alive, I am working on her, I am just balancing the way trust grows between Roman and Gerri and my brain is very stubborn about how things happen. ) However! the next update will be sometime this week, and since chapter four is halfway done they should come out in quick succession (ha!)

I also may have been talked into writing a companion fic for Sands ( from rome’s pov ) so I am catching it up to write them side by side.

[nicolewoo]

Cub Chapter 16 The Work Starts

 Pairing: Roman Reigns X Reader

Synopsis: Roman, Seth and Dean are a pack of werewolfs. Protecting their city from the scumbags of the world ends up with a surprise when a victim left for dead imprints on Roman Reigns.

Cub Part 16: The work starts

Roman POV: Sun streamed into the room from a gap in the curtains. We seemed to have woken at the same time, neither of us wanted to move yet. We laid, curled up together just enjoying being together…. Not just physically, but mentally. There were no words to describe the feeling, except the most profound joy ever.

I never considered myself an insecure person, but being joined to Cub mentally, this was sheer heaven. I didn’t have to try. I didn’t have to do anything. She loved me for me…. All of me…. The good and the ugly. Bless her heart. How I felt about her? It was completely overwhelming in a good way. When I focused on her, tears of joy welled up in my eyes…. Only spilling out when we were alone for her small delicate finger to wipe away with a smile and a kiss.

“Morning guys.” Seth’s voice chirped quietly in our head. “You awake?”

Cub smiled sleepily. “Morning Sethie” she answered.

“I… Uh… Don’t want to interrupt you guys.” He hesitated.

“We’re awake” I answered.

“I’m at the lodge, and, well, everyone is here. I guess they were going to meet here to help cub adjust to being a wolf, but she went into heat, but everyone came anyway… everyone is kinda hoping to see the happy couple today… lotta people want to say thanks for the O le galu, but nobody is pressuring you.” Cub and I considered. “The mating room is still set up here,” Seth added. That made our decision easier.

“Tell everyone we will join them in a little while. Want to get showered and cleaned up.” Cub answered, but she wanted more than a shower. Her desire roused my sleepy dick in a second. She wasn’t in a heat cycle though. She just wanted me…. To make love……

“Just let me know when you’re ready and I’ll send the golfcart to pick you up.” Seth said.

“Yup” Cub answered quickly and curtly.

“Haaaavvveeee Fun you two,” Seth chuckled as he mentally cut our conversation off.

I rolled us until I was on top of Cub. “Now, what were we thinking of?” I teased as I leaned in to kiss her.

Cub’s Point of view:

Everyone cheered when we walked in, like we were the married couple at their reception.  The room had been transformed yet again.

The three counsel tables at the front of the room had been rearranged into one big square table. The buffet tables were still up, and holding a buffet of an amazing smelling breakfast, that we needed to attack ssssoooooon. I don’t know who was hungrier, Roman or me, but we were starving.

At a wave from Filemu, we started our way up to the counsel tables. Roman steered us past the buffet, grabbing a couple pieces of fruit as he moved by and shaking hands in greeting as we walked.

“Uncle Roman…. Want me to make you some plates?” A teenager appeared out of nowhere.

Before I could even think about what we were supposed to be doing, I answered a quick “Yes, Pleeeasssseee.”

Roman chuckled as he added “Yes please, Maliko.” The young man scurried away.

As we sat at the counsel table, Naomi ran up with a pitcher of fruit juice and some glasses. “Morning!” She started pouring as she continued. “How are you feeling today?”

Maliko returned with plates overfull with food. I couldn’t normally eat that much, but I was famished this morning. As I was thanking him, Roman answered Naomi that I was feeling really well this morning. “After you’re done eating, we’ve got a big day for you.” She quickly added, “but if you go into a heat cycle, your mating room is still set up here.”

She sat next to me, “Seth told us.” I answered with a mouth full of Panipopo, holding my hand over my mouth. I have manners, but I was dying of hunger, and couldn’t get the food in fast enough. “That’s the heat, baby. We’re burning a lot of calories mating.” Roman said in my head.

“Cub!!!!!” An overly excited Seth came running up to us.

“Morning Seth.” Having a pack mate close made me feel better. I missed Dean! Roman thought that we would call him after we ate, and I thanked him. Coming from behind me, Seth wrapped his arms around me in a giant hug and kissed me on the top of the head. Before taking a seat, he kissed the top of Roman’s head too.

“How you feeling?” Seth asked.  I was starving and I had no intention of answering questions until I was full. In fact…. In fact…. I needed food…….. It was maddening.

“She got the heat hungry.” One of the tribe members said as she sat at the table. “Let her eat.” I wanted to ask what she meant but couldn’t stop eating to ask.

Roman seemed to understand. We burn extra calories mating, the body adjusted by having us eat more. Made sense. Luckily, once the phrase “heat hungry” was spoken, everyone understood. Naomi and Seth stopped asking me questions; Naomi settling quietly next to me reading through papers that sat in front of her, one hand gently rubbing my back as I inhaled the food while Seth and Roman discussed my pain levels and agility today.

It wasn’t until I’d polished off a third plate of food that I began to feel sated. When the fourth plate of food arrived, I picked at it a bit, but couldn’t finish it.

“I heard you all were throwing a party without me.” I lit up when the big booming voice rang out. DEAN!!!! DEAN WAS HERE!!!! I don’t know who was happier, Seth, Ro or me.  I popped out of my seat quickly and ran across the room into Dean’s arms.

“Cub!!!” Dean smiled. “You’re feeling better.” He said through our link.

“I am.” I tried to answer through the link, but it came out my mouth.

“Good.” He sniffed at the air. “Is that Panipopo?” He asked.

“You can finish my plate.” I answered as I led him to the table.

Dean chuckled. “I know better than to take food from a wolf in heat.”

Seth hugged Dean as we got to the table. “She already had 3 plates. She’s full.”

I asked in our link, “How often will this heat hunger happen?”

Roman kissed my temple after I sat and slid my plate to Dean next to me. “Usually once a heat cycle.”

That led me to another question. This time I asked out loud. “How often is a heat cycle?”

Everyone started answering that it’s about 3 months, but Naomi said “That’s one of the things we’re hoping to teach you about today…. If you can.”

“What are you doing here?” Seth asked Dean.

Shoveling food in his mouth almost as desperately as I was a minute earlier, Dean spoke with his mouth full. “The patient recovered. I got Simpson to take a couple shifts for me, and I hopped a commercial flight here.”

I reached my hand out to hold Dean’s. “I’m glad you did.”

I heard his voice in our link…. I missed you guys. I answered we missed you too.

“Are you full, Cub?” I heard Filemu’s voice as she approached the table.

“Yes. Thank you so much!” I answered.

Turning now to the whole room, Filemu announced. “We’re going to get started in about 15 minutes everyone.” The room erupted into a hive of activity as tribe members prepared for whatever they were planning.

15 minutes? “Hey guys, lets walk down to the beach for a few minutes.” I said through our link. Looks like I was going to be busy all day. Spending a few minutes with just my pack would be wonderful. Grabbing a blanket, Roman led us across the road and onto the beach. After laying out the blanket, we all sat, arms around each other, heads pressed together in a circle of love…. We just wanted to feel together.

“I forgot my ear plugs.” I lamented.

Seth was quick to answer, “I’ll go pick them up.”

At the same time, Dean said, “Are they at the hotel?”  We answered yes. “I gotta go check in anyway. I’ll pic them up.”

Seth smiled, “Nah man. There are 2 beds in my room. Bunk with me. Let’s go get the earplugs and drop off your bag.”

Both started getting up. “Not yet” I said. “I want to spend this time…. Just our pack….. the past few days… well, the past couple of weeks….” I trailed off.

“It’s a lot, Cub.” Seth said. “I didn’t think you’d leave the hotel room today.”

I looked toward the lodge. “Everyone is working so hard to help me. How could I say no?”

Dean ruffled my hair and kissed the top of my head. “You’re so sweet, Cub. Ok. 5 more minutes together as a pack…. As a family.”

The word hung in the salty air. Family. I finally had a family. In my mind, I could feel my brothers and my mate like we were hugging each other mentally as well as physically.

A sound from the lodge caught our attention. Filemu was gathering everyone. It was time to start Wolf 101 classes or whatever we wanted to call it. “Cub?” I heard Naomi calling for me.

We were up quickly, folding the blanket and getting in last hugs. “Wanna piggyback ride?” Dean asked, and I laughed at it. Nothing about my life had been funny in the past couple of weeks, but this absurd request was hilarious at the moment, and we all enjoyed a laugh as I rode on Dean’s back on the way to the lodge.

“There she is,” I heard Naomi say. “Come on, Cub.”

“We have lots to cover.” Filemu said.

After bidding us a quick bye, Dean and Seth left to get the earplugs and get Dean settled in. Roman and I took our seats at the counsel table. The rest of the table filled in quickly, each person holding a bundle of papers.

“Ok. Settle down.” Filemu said. At a shrill scream from a child, Filemu asked if the kids could play outside until my pack returned with my earplugs. I reveled in the quieter room. “Today we were going to start your wolf training, but you went into heat, so we changed plans. Today you will meet the people who will be training you.”

Naomi continued. “I asked everyone to write up a few paragraphs about how they can help you adjust. That way if you need specific help, like…“

“Like someone to talk to.” The answer came from someone I hadn’t met yet, and someone Roman wasn’t familiar with. “I’m Dr. Loane. I’m a psychiatrist.” She came to me now, kneeling by my chair as she gently took my hand and looked into my eyes. “The past couple of weeks have been hard?” she asked sympathetically.

I smiled warmly at the doctor. “Hard is an understatement.”

“If you need to talk anytime, here’s my information.” She handed me a packet of a few papers.

Roman was quick to tell me through our link that I should take advantage of her services. “Can we try to find time today?” I almost begged.

“I’ll be here all day. Whenever you find time. We can go to a private room and talk.” She patted my hand.

“Thank you.” I said as a tear snaked down my cheek. There had been so many emotions over the past few weeks, and I was eager to meet with her and unpack those emotions. She returned to her seat, and the rest of the introductions began.

First we met elder Liu who would teach me how to adjust to my new wolf strength. Thank goodness! I’d broken a glass and a plate at Roman’s house the first couple of days, because I didn’t know my new strength.

Then how to adjust to my new wolf senses.

How to avoid being discovered by humans.

Wolf history – which was to be taught over a campfire…. As they’d done for hundreds of years. From the way they described it, hearing the history was a rite of passage, and I was going to be joined by 2 children who hadn’t heard the history before.

How to speak mentally to my tribe.

How to navigate the imprinting bond. This class was for both Roman and I.

The list went on.

We were almost done with the introductions when my brothers got back with my earplugs and lots of kisses and hugs.

Dean grabbed another plate of food and sat down on the couch that was placed right behind my chair. Seth sat with him as the meeting continued. Both were bored, and eventually started talking about other things.

The whole meeting took about a ½ hour. After that, Roman and I met with Dr. Loane, and although it was helping me tremendously, I knew the tribe wanted us to return to the party. So, we set two possible times for therapy tomorrow. The spare was in case I went into a heat cycle. At Roman’s insistence, the appointments were to be at our hotel room, so I could relax all day. He was afraid I’d be extra sore tomorrow, because I took a day off from changing. A concern that was echoed by the medical staff.

In truth, there was no precedent for a new wolf who took a day off from changing and how that would affect the body. My fears were calmed by knowing my pack would be helping me through. My tribe would be helping me through.

We did manage to meet briefly with each of my “teachers”, and we took time to let people meet us, talk to us, thank us for the O Le Galu; which seemed silly to me. We didn’t do anything. It’s a natural process, but Sika demanded we allow it.

About 3, Seth, Naomi and Dean approached us. “Ok, guys, we have a surprise for you.”

When I stood, Naomi linked her arm in mine and started leading us out of the lodge. Everyone seemed to know what was happening and called out goodbyes as we left.

Instead of the golf cart we’d been using to go back and forth between the lodge and the hotel, there was a large van outside. When we entered, I found Fia Fia in the passenger seat and Sika in the driver’s seat. By the time my pack and Naomi took our seats, the van was full.

“What’s going on?” Roman asked suspiciously.

Turning in her seat to look at us, Fia replied, “You two have barely had any time alone together since you met. Sika and I thought it would be nice if you could take Cub on a date.”

“A proper date.” Sika added.

We looked at each other. Alone? Yes. My mind was swimming with everything that had happened, was happening and would happen soon. Roman was unphased by it, but I was completely overwhelmed. Our appointment with Dr. Loane had helped me relax a bit, but everything was still crazy. As we looked into each other’s eyes, It dawned on us how bad we really needed some time alone.

Once in our suite, Naomi took me to our room while Seth and Dean took Roman to their room. Naomi had picked out a sundress for me to wear, and she started doing my hair and makeup. When she was done, I put on the dress. Looking at myself in the mirror, I lamented that the dress was cut so low, showing off much more cleavage than I wanted, but it really was beautiful, light pink with white flowers.

We came out of the bedroom to find the guys in the living room. Roman was dressed in khaki pants rolled up and a white polo shirt. “You look amazing” I said as Roman came to wrap his arms around me.

“You look stunning.” He replied as someone knocked on the door. When Dean opened it, an employee was waiting for us.

“If you’re ready….” The young man said. Roman nodded. We followed the young man, leaving my pack and Naomi behind.

We followed him through the hotel and outside. Following a little wooden path snaking through the lush green landscape, we ended up on a beach. A small bamboo building with a thatched roof and three walls faced the west and would surely give a fantastic view of the sunset.

Coming around to the front, we found a loveseat and a table set with glasses, dishes, and flowers. Dainty outdoor lights twinkled from the corners o the room, and flowered garland swayed in the breeze from it’s spot on the ceiling. Their beautiful aroma filling the little room. After seating us, the employee asked what we would like to drink.

“This is nice.” Roman said as he spread his arm across my shoulders. I hummed my agreement as I nestled my head on his shoulder. We sat quietly, kissing occasionally, watching the gorgeous teal waves roll in while the tired sun slowly moved across the sky.

The absolutely amazing dinner and time alone with my mate was truly wonderful, and as the server took our empty plates away, I suggested we take a walk to the water. Being such a beach lover, Roman agreed. Hand in hand we strolled to the water’s edge as we watched the sky begin to light up with the pinks and yellows and reds of sunset.

I couldn’t resist wandering in to feel the warm water envelop my feet. I loved the feeling, and Roman chuckled as he held my hand at arm’s length.

“You’re getting that beautiful dress all wet.” He laughed.

“So?” I answered. “It will dry.” I tugged his hand. “Join me!”

“No way!” He tried pulling me out of the water, but my wolf strength coupled with the layer of sand that had now washed onto my feet kept me steady. “I don’t want to get wet.”

“Are you afraid you’ll melt?” I dared as I wandered deeper into the water, trying to pull him in, but instead our hands broke apart.

“Just stop, Cub” He laughed.

“Poor little Roman’s afraid of a little water?” I took a few steps farther into the water. It was up to my thighs now, and I trailed my fingers over the water, reveling in the feel of it on my skin. Without warning, I splashed water right on him.

Looking down with mock-anger, he stormed into the water, purposefully splashing his feet as he did, When he was just a few feet from me, he reached down grabbed two big handfuls of water and splashed me back. We both laughed as he reached me, wrapped his arms around me and spun me in a circle. As he set me back down on my feet, he kissed me.

“You know what sucks? I knew you were going to splash me a split second before you did it, but I couldn’t get out of the way!” He laughed.

“The dark side of our imprinting link?” I teased.

He hummed his agreement. “Gotta get used to that.”

Just as I agreed, Roman’s phone chirped on the dinner table. If we didn’t have wolf hearing, we wouldn’t have heard it.

“That’s Seth telling us it’s time to go inside.” Ro explained. He leaned down to kiss me. The kiss was as warm and soft as the water swirling around my feet. We couldn’t pull away. One kiss, two, three. The phone rang again.

He stared into my eyes a moment. “I love you.” He said.

My heart soared with joy as I answered. “I love you too.”  

Elation flooded us. He picked me up and spun me around again before giving me one last kiss. “Seth?” he called out through the pack link.

“He’s already here” I pointed up to the pathway to the hotel where I saw Seth, Dean and Naomi…. who were filming us. Roman had a second of anger, before I told him that I was glad our loved ones captured that moment for the future. His anger quickly abated.

We changed quickly, and I took one last look at the beautiful sunset.

@mindofasagitarius   @lclb13 @serenityfiretrash @lustyromantic @reigns-5sos @bigpsychicbagelauthor @omg-im-such-a-masochist @marlananicole @wickedsunfire @starwithaheart @spookys-girl

@pitlissa22 @snowpanda18 @thesamoanqueen

[banannabethchase]

first off, lemme at your coworker, I just wanna talk 😠

here is another tumblr post I always thought would be a fun story https://sarahcakes613.tumblr.com/post/680725394897371136/portraitoftheoddity-thinking-about-how-my-mom (my thought had been Roman and Seth both sneaking things into Dean's bag but I could also see it with many other pairings!)

File under "things Sara thought would be a quick little fun prompt fill that escalated and took on a life of its own, Alex."

Intrigue - on AO3

Somebody keeps leaving Band-Aids in Mox's bag after matches, and it's getting weird. As he tries to figure out who the culprit is, things escalate. Quickly.

~

Multi chapter because I needed 3 different points of view, and my compulsive issues did not allow me to mix POVs in one chapter. Yes, I know that's weird.

Written for a prompt by sarahcakes613 based on this delightful text post and I kind of went haywire with it. I think my brain went, "How can I simultaneously answer the prompt and disregard it completely?"

Chapters 1 and 2 are teen rated silly fluff. Chapter 3 is...well, chapter 3 is the reason for the E rating. For the purposes of easy reading, they will be combined into one post here on tumblr with indications for each chapter.

~

Part 1: Mox

It happens first after Mox gets cut open after Blood and Guts, when he looks back at it. That day he’d gotten a little bloody, but most of it was somebody else’s. He considered it a win. When he got backstage, there was a neat little box of Band-Aids on top of his bag. Peach toned, various sizes. Just sitting there.

“Anybody lost a box of Band-Aids?” he called to the locker room, but nobody noticed or said anything. In hindsight, this is when he should have realized.

Mox is beginning to get suspicious. It’s not that he can’t forget things – God knows he does so even more now that he’s older – but he’s pretty sure he doesn’t pack this many Band-Aids in his bags. He’s almost positive. He knows it’s only at AEW shows, because he actually went looking for a Band-Aid in his bag after a rogue tack at a GCW show and couldn’t find any.

There’s more than just the box this time. Somebody’s shoved a bunch of Captain America Band-Aids into the pocket of his jeans along with the box neatly settled on top of his bag.

Mox looks around the room, trying to find somebody looking suspicious or guilty, somebody who’s watching his movements a little more clearly than usual. Nobody. He asks Yuta, thinking the sweet kid was trying to be helpful, except, when Mox thanks him, he looks bewildered.

~

He’d had a hint to who it had been before his match with Hangman, but, as he makes his way back to his bag in the locker room, there they are. There’s no way Hangman had put them there before the match -Mox had been in here until the last second – and after, well. Hangman couldn’t even walk.

This time, though, it’s a handful of Barbie Band-Aids scattered all across his bag. No neatly placed box. He figures whoever it was didn’t have time.

He shakes his head, feeling a little crazy. There’s every chance he’s made this up, that the Band-Aids are just left over from somebody’s kid toddling through the locker room while saying hi to their parent.

But not three times.

Not in his bag every time.

~

He reaches his breaking point in January, when it’s happened almost every day he’s been at an AEW taping since Blood and Guts. It’s gotten even stranger. He gets back from his match, a box of standard peach toned Band-Aids resting on top of his things, and then a handful of…they look like crayons? When he looks closer, he confirms it: a bunch of loose crayon Band-Aids shoved into one of his gym shirts. He sits up and looks around.

Nobody is staring at him, waiting for a reaction. Yuta’s on the phone. Claudio’s doing one armed pushups, the showoff. Mox watches for a moment, because he knows on good authority that Claudio likes it when people watch him. Jungle Boy is texting somebody furiously while Hook looks asleep next to him. The Best Friend clan is huddled around Danhausen, muttering like nobody else is in the room with them.

He’s got to get to the bottom of this before it drives him to break out the nonalcoholic beer.

~

“Okay, seriously, what the fuck.” Mox stands up and walks into the meeting room. After Rampage, most of the talent have usually left, but the leadership group (that’s who he is now with the new contract, he’s leadership, it still baffles him) been requested to check in with Tony before everybody leaves. The time difference here on the West Coast was fucking with him just as badly as the Band-Aid weirdo so he’s not even tired. He should be. “Who the fuck keeps leaving the Band-Aids all over my shit?” He holds up the box, turns around the locker room, waving it in everybody’s faces. He would probably benefit from using one of them to staunch the bleeding on his forehead, but it adds a level of drama he’s a bit fond of. “Spill. Out with it.”

To his surprise, Nick Jackson looks completely bored. “What are you talking about?”

“It’s not you?” Mox asks, shaking the box to make a fun little noise. Nick, to his credit, just blinks slowly.

“What’s not me?”

“The Band-Aids!” Mox practically yells. “Somebody in here has been leaving Band-Aids in all my stuff.”

He looks around the room for some sort of hint, somebody with a shitty poker face. Tony, exasperated and so done. Kenny Omega, furiously typing on his phone who looks up only to shake his head and go back to the conversation. Amanda and Megha, standing impatiently as they glare at Mox. Finally, he hits the mark: Matt Jackson’s eyes widen.

“Oh, your dumb little Bambi eyes gave you away, you little shit,” Mox says, staring down Matt.

Matt does not have an ounce of Nick’s stoicism. “I – not those!”

Mox blinks. “What?”

“Can you two do this later?” Tony asks. “Also, Jesus, Mox, clean up your forehead. What’d you do, blade with a steak knife?”

Mox is fuming through the meeting, something about increasing the reach of the community engagement program. He tries to pay attention to Amanda, because he really likes her, but knowing that the most annoying Jackson is the one who’s been leaving Band-Aids all over his bags like a goddamn taunt is at the front of his mind the whole time. He ends up volunteering to be the Ohio lead for the program, just to try and apologize for being a little insane right now.

“Alright, that’ll be it,” Tony says, clapping his hands. His eyes go right to Mox. “Please. Don’t kill an EVP. I’ve had enough bad PR for a lifetime.”

“No promises,” Mox grumbles, but he shrugs at Tony. Because he’s not actually planning on killing Matt. Not planning to.

“I can explain,” Matt says, when Mox grabs his arm and hauls him out of his chair

Nick and Kenny look almost bored as they follow Mox and the ragdoll formerly known as Matt Jackson down the hallway. “Where’s your room?” Mox asks Matt.

“End of the hallway. Look, you can let go of me now, if you want. I’m not going to run off.”

Mox stares at Matt’s face. “If I want?”

“If you want.”

Mox considers it. “Nope.”

They reach the end of the hallway, and Matt opens the door. Unlocked. Mox will have to remember that.

He turns to the other three of the doucheketeers. “Alright, gentlemen, we’ll be out in a second.”

Nick and Kenny are standing there, mouths open as if to speak, but Mox slams the door in their faces.

“So,” Mox says, getting in Matt’s face. “The Band-Aids.” Matt looks up at Mox, turning on the infuriatingly effective baby cow eyes. They won’t work this time. “You think it’s funny? You ribbing me or something? This WWE in 2004 and you’re trying to fuck with me?”

Matt frowns, grabbing the Band-Aids from Mox’s hand like he’s meant to touch Mox. “These ones aren’t mine!”

“What,” Mox rocks back, just a little, “wanna explain that?”

Matt, to Mox’s shock, shakes the box in his face. “These are not the Band-Aids I’ve been giving you. I’ve been tossing random, like, superhero and stuff Band-Aids in your bags. I did not put these in.” He looks at them, wrinkling his nose. “The color looks weird on me.”

“I hate that you think of how a Band-Aid looks on you,” Mox grumbles. “Okay, if you left the other ones – they suck, by the way, you’d think a self-obsessed millionaire like you would spend the big bucks on decent medical supplies – then who the fuck left this?” He snatches the Band-Aids back from Matt, wiggles it in Matt’s face like Matt had done to him.

Matt folds his arms across his chest. Mox is definitely not affected by the way it makes Matt’s biceps flex and…Nope. He’s not looking. “Self-obsessed? Nice, Mr. Bleeds Every Week for the Vibes.”

“It’s – it’s not for the vibes – and this one – fuck you!”

“Eff you!”

“Fuckin’ princess can’t even swear,” Mox huffs. “Fine. Whatever. You are helping me figure out who the fuck is leaving the other set of bandaids in my bag.”

Matt fixes his face into some sort of indignant pout. “Why would I help you?”

Mox crowds into Matt’s space, using the height advantage to pin him against the wall. He tries not think about what else they could get up to like this. Matt looks good from this angle. “Because, if you don’t, I’ll kick your ass.”

Matt mutters something under his breath, but Mox doesn’t catch it.

Part 2: Matt

Matt has a boner and has to hide it, because Kenny and Nick are fawning over him like Mox actually did something to hurt him.

“Are you sure we don’t need to talk to Tony?” Kenny asks, eyes searching Matt’s face.

“It’s fine,” Matt says, waving them off. “Look, I did leave some Band-Aids in his bag. I thought he’d need them, you know? He took it wrong. I explained the situation, and we’re good.” His leg’s doing the annoying twitching thing, and Kenny notices.

“He threaten you or something?” Kenny asks.

Matt shakes his head. “No, oh my god. It’s fine.” Matt exhales and goes over everything, leaving out the way his pants aren’t exactly comfortable right now.

“What compelled you to mess with Moxley?” Kenny asks. “Of all fucking people?”

“I wasn’t fucking with him!” Matt says, for what feels like the eightieth time that day. “I just – I liked the fun Band-Aids, and he’s always bleeding all over the place. It’s a gift and a workplace safety initiative.”

“Workplace safety ini – oh, god, I’m breaking up the tag team.” Nick leans against the wall, head in his hands.

“Are not,” Matt snaps back.

Kenny groans. “Okay, fine. Fuck up your life by interacting with Moxley. I literally could not care less at this point, as long as you don’t get yourself killed before the end of this seven game series.”

~

Matt considers himself a decent spy, but it takes until the day before game seven to catch the culprit. He’s been pulling out all the stops – hiding in piles of other people’s stuff, sneaking into the locker room before and after the show starts, even pretending to be on his phone while actually filming Moxley’s bag. It works until it doesn’t, because he technically is supposed to be in a different locker room. He hadn’t realized that his presence would be that, well, noticed. It’s like he can hardly walk into the locker room without one of the other wrestlers waving and calling attention to him.

It happens again as he tries to sneak into the locker room, and Mox scares him half to death by popping out from behind a shower curtain. He’s still wet, and it’s distracting.

“Jesus, warn a guy,” Matt mutters.

“Figured it out yet?” Moxley asks. He shakes his arms out, cold water spraying and hitting Matt in the face. He fidgets trying not to look at, well, the everything about Mox. Then he drops the towel and begins getting dressed in his gear, which Matt thinks is a direct attack. He hopes it is, at least.

“No,” Matt replies, intentionally looking away as Mox puts on his pants, “and you could help, you know.”

“Nah,” Mox says, doing a little hop to adjust the fit of the gear. It’s weirdly endearing. “This is your penance for being an ass.”

“I was being helpful,” Matt snaps.

Mox laughs as he gets his boots on. “Sure you were, baby.”

Matt does not blush about it.

~

He should be talking strategy with Kenny and Matt, but there are more pressing issues. Namely, finding the other Band-Aid person so Moxley will be, like, happy with him. Or something. He’s not willing to examine his motivations further.

Matt’s hidden in the same little hidden shower Mox had been in when it happens. His jaw drops. Hangman, still covered in sweat from his match, slides into the locker room and neatly settles the box of plain Band-Aids on top of Mox’s bags. He glances around and makes his way toward the door. Matt takes a second to let it sink in: there was more than one moment that he worried, after that doozy of a concussion, he’d never get to see the man with his post-match glow ever again. It looks good on him. It sparks a funny little ache in Matt’s chest.

Shaking himself out of it, because he has a job to do, Matt wonders if his strategy was too inelegant, just throwing the Band-Aids all over the bag, as he steps out of the shadows and clears his throat.

Hangman freezes in place like a deer in the headlights.

“So it’s you,” Matt says, and he feels a little like a supervillain. “Stole my idea.”

“I did not steal an idea,” Hangman argues, finally getting his normal stance back. “He’s always covered in blood. Sometimes I even make him bleed the hard way. The Band-Aids are an apology.”

Matt raises an eyebrow. “An apology.”

“Yeah,” Hangman says. “I used to get him beers, back in the day, but we, uh. Neither of us do that anymore. So Band-Aids.”

“You didn’t think to, I don’t know, tell him? Or give them to him face to face?”

Hangman raises an eyebrow, a little bit of a smirk hinting at the corner of his mouth. “Oh, like you did?”

Amanda must have texted Hangman about it while he was off. Traitor. “Shut up.” Matt ducks his head, glad he kept his hair down.

“You have no leg to stand on,” Hangman says, teasing. “I mean, I at least gave him the whole box. You, what, tossed a couple in his bag? Were you trying to be annoying, or is that just your default?”

“Oh, eff off,” Matt laughs. “Look, he’s pissed about it, but if you just, like, talk to him, I’m sure he’ll be normal about the whole situation.”

Hangman raises an eyebrow. “Jon Moxley. Normal about something.”

“Fair point,” Matt concedes. “He’ll be not trying to murder you about it.”

“That sounds more like him.” Hangman – Adam’s – smile is just as bright as it always used to be, and it strikes Matt that this is the first real conversation they’ve had in a long time.

He goes quiet and Adam settles into that expression of careful neutrality Matt’s always been able to read. He’s nervous.

“You okay?” Matt asks. “I – I was just joking about it. He probably won’t be that mad.”

“It’s not that,” Adam says. “I just – this is the first time we’ve been able to talk to each other without punching the other out in years.”

“I was just thinking that, too,” Matt says. His leg starts going, and Adam’s eyes dart to it. Sometimes he forgets just how much of him Adam really knows.

Adam’s smile is soft and gentle. “I’ve missed you. It’s good to talk to you.”

It feels almost too good to be true. “I’ve missed you, too.” Matt’s too scared to step closer, to risk himself again, so he just offers Adam a smile. “Mox, uh. Moxley probably won’t be able to come back here to get the bag, with the way you clocked him.”

Adam winces. “Yeah. That was,” he pauses, eyes searching the room like it’ll give him the words, “a lot.”

Matt shrugs. “It’s the business. You can let him know when he comes back.”

~

Lucky for Matt, who has been overly obsessed about it for too long, they’re all in the same place again January 18th, when Matt’s backstage. He just doesn’t know it until he sees Hangman over the screen as he watches backstage.

“He’s here?” he asks Nick, hand over his mic.

“Yeah, looks like it,” Nick mutters. Matt watches him choose his words carefully, the way Nick’s had to do ever since Adam left the Elite. “You gonna go talk to him?”

There his leg goes again. “Maybe.”

“Go,” Nick says, offering a soft smile.

“But I’m needed –”

“I got it,” Nick says, pushing at Matt’s shoulder. “I know how much it – how much he – means to you.”

Matt presses a quick kiss to the top of Nick’s head, because he really doesn’t know what he did to deserve him as a brother, and dashes across the arena. It takes him so long Adam’s no longer in the little alcove where he filmed his promo. He panics for a second, until he gets his head out of his ass and realizes the locker room is the most likely place to find Adam. Plus, Moxley’s here to keep an eye on the competition, even though he’s not cleared, so there’s every chance…

Matt laughs in relief when he opens the door to find Adam leaning over Moxley’s little backpack, the one he hauls around on days he doesn’t have a match.

Adam jumps about a foot when he turns around. “I wasn’t – oh.” His face melts into a smile. “Matt. Hi.”

“Caught in the act again,” Matt says, grinning. He leans up against the door frame. “Shameless.”

“I haven’t told him it’s me yet, and he’d be confused if I just all of a sudden stopped.” Adam tucks his hair behind his ear. It looks even better than usual. Matt wants to get his finger twisted around some of those curls. “It’s a bit. You have to keep up with the bit.”

Matt raises an eyebrow. “He’s not cut open, though. He doesn’t need a Band-Aid.”

“He’s Moxley. He’ll crash into a wall and bust an artery or something.” Adam settles the box a little more on the bag. “But I’d rather him not catch us, so.”

“Right,” Matt follows him out of the door. And it hits him, hard: this is the moment, isn’t it. He pauses a step or two past the door to the locker room. “Um.” Adam turns to him, stops when he sees Matt isn’t moving. “You mentioned. In your promo, a few minutes ago. Fences.”

Adam nods. “Fences.”

Matt doesn’t want to hope. “And, um. Mending them?” He hopes Adam can’t hear how loudly his heart is beating.

“Yeah,” Adam says. He takes a step closer to Matt.

“I want to.”

Adam finally breaks that mask and smiles, those eyes softening. “Oh, thank god.” He rushes in and pulls Matt in for a crushing hug, one Matt hadn’t enough known he’d been missing all this time. He buries his face in Adam’s chest, trying not to think of how this feels a little like home. Adam rests his chin, or maybe his cheek, Matt can’t tell, on top of Matt’s head. They stay there for a minute, and Matt buries his face into Adam’s chest. Nothing else matters.

“This looks cozy.”

Matt and Adam pull apart to see Jon Moxley, looking mildly amused. “So, I found some more bandaids in my bag,” he shakes them in his hand, backpack slung over his shoulder, “and you two are the only ones in the hallway, so.” He looks them up and down. “Both culprits found.”

Matt fights a smile while Adam starts to go a little red.

“I – I was gonna tell you.”

Mox breaks out in a grin. “Of course it was you two in the end.”

“Why of course us?” Adam asks.

Mox licks his lips, looking the two of them up and down. “’Cause you two have been a little obsessed with me since I walked into the company.”

“I am not obsessed with you,” Matt argues, almost on instinct.

Mox laughs. “Sure you aren’t. What about you, Cowboy? You gonna deny it, too?”

“I wouldn’t say obsessed,” Adam says, with more poise than Matt would have expected from him in this situation, “I’d say intrigued.”

Mox’s grin goes a little less kind, a little more knowing. “Intrigued, huh?” He makes his way backward down the hallway, eyes locked on Matt and Adam. “If you ever want to satisfy that intrigue, let me know if you two want to, uh, not wrestle sometime. Maybe altogether.” He spins on his heel and swaggers off, and Matt is far, FAR too hot right now.

“You think he knows we used to…?” Adam trails off, and Matt is happy to see that he’s just as bright red as Matt’s pretty sure he is.

“Oh, you think?” Matt says. He feels hot all over, like his skin’s too small for his body. “You’re really using that college degree brain.”

“Shut up,” Adam says, but it’s not mean, and he’s still smiling. So Matt thinks they’re still good.

~

Part 3: Adam (this is where the E rating comes into effect, folks)

Adam knows it’s a dumb fucking idea. He’s going to do it anyway.

He ducks into the locker room after his match with Moxley, covered in sweat and victory, and grabs the last box of Band-Aids out of the front pocket of his duffle. He’s making his way over to Moxley’s bag when he hears it:

“Oh, you’ve gotta be fucking kidding me.”

Adam sighs and turns around to see Mox there, blood mostly mopped off of his face. Adam feels a little proud at the stitches on Moxley’s forehead. Proof of his second victory over the man. “Oh. Hi, Moxley.”

“Get the fuck away from my stuff,” Mox laughs. “Really? Again?”

“I cut you open again, so I figured…” He trails off. Mox really does move the same way out of the ring as he does in it.

Mox walks toward him, a hint of a smile on his lips. “God, you really don’t learn, do you.”

“I learn,” Adam says, standing to his full height. “I just have no impulse control when it comes to – ” He cuts himself off, because he’s not exactly sure what was going to come next. To Mox? To men with pretty eyes who like it when they beat each other up? To people who he can’t decide if he wants to fight or fuck?

“To what?” Mox asks, sidling up to him. He’s got his hands in his front pockets, looks way too comfortable.

Adam refuses to break eye contact, but the words stick in his throat.

“Come on, Cowboy,” Mox says, voice a low growl, “You can say it.”

Adam’s eyes flick between Mox’s lips and eyes. He speaks before he can let himself think better of it. “Matt’ll be jealous if we start without him.”

Mox lets out this laugh that Adam’s never heard from him, something surprised and glorious. “Oh, I get it. You made yourself a package deal.”

“Pretty sure that was you.” Adam licks his lips. He can’t keep his eyes from Mox’s eyes and lips. “What hotel you at?”

“The one Tony paid for,” Mox says. He’s all the way in Adam’s space, now, and, if Adam takes a deep breath, their chests will touch. “Room 485.” He darts forward, gives Adam a sweet, chaste kiss with none of the tension behind the moment. It feels like a challenge. “Soon as the Rampage taping is done. I’ll be waiting.” He pulls back and rubs at his own lip with his thumb, eyes on Adam’s mouth. “You bring Matt if you’re willing to share.” He walks away without another word or a look behind.

Adam lets out this weird little noise as he feels like the world is rocking around him. With slightly shaking fingers, he pulls out his phone, and gives himself a second to let the anticipation wash over him. Meet me at the EVP locker room?, he texts, crossing his fingers that his number wasn’t deleted.

The answer comes almost immediately. b there in 5

Adam hustles to the EVP room, new anxious energy enveloping him. He counts to a hundred in his head, but only makes it to 75 before he sees Matt half-running down the hallway, already in gear. They go on last, so Adam’s sure Matt has more important things to be doing right now. But he needs to make sure he gets a chance to, in person, talk to Matt. Before whatever happens tonight. Matt lights up when he sees Adam, but he still doesn’t quite smile. When he’s walking, it’s not as clear that he’s brimming with anxiety. But he’s walking a little too quickly, limbs moving a little too frenetically, for this to be under control.

“Go ahead in,” Matt says, a little breathless. “It’s always unlocked.”

Adam smiles as he pushes the door open. “Kenny still forgetting his keys?”

“Always,” Matt says, sounding exasperated. “And then, like, Nick and I’ll be in the trainer’s or getting dinner and he’ll run in like a maniac demanding the keys! It’s just a habit at this point.” He wiggles a little, bouncing on his toes, as he leans against some sort of counter. “So. What’s the emergency? Nick and I were stretching.”

“Right, course. Uh.” Adam brushes his hair out of his face. “Mox wants us to meet him in his hotel room. After Rampage.”

Matt raises an eyebrow. “Really.”

Adam nods. “The direct quote was, ‘I’ll be waiting. You bring Matt if you’re willing to share.”

Matt’s eyes widen like a goddamn anime character, and a flattering blush spreads across his cheeks. “Sh-share?”

Adam nods. “So, um. I didn’t want to commit or anything until I knew if we – if…” He trails off, trying to figure out how to phrase it. “If you wanted to be each other’s again.”

Matt’s eyes go even more Bambi at that, wide and earnest and reminiscent of the man Adam first met years ago, when Adam was teaching and Matt was still convincing himself he had what it takes to change the world. “You want me to be yours?”

“I want – ” He doesn’t get a chance to finish his sentence. Matt’s launched himself at Adam, kissing him like their lives depend on it. It feels like breathing, like a sip of cold water on the days when they’re short staffed and Adam’s working twelve hours to keep the plants in shape. It feels even better than winning the match against Moxley, barely an hour ago.

Adam tries to hold Matt as preciously as he holds the moment, flooding with nostalgia for a time he never thought he’d get back. He pulls back, pressing his lips to Matt’s cheeks, his forehead, all across his face, until Matt’s letting out this half giggle and looking up at him. Adam would fight the world for those eyes. “I want you to be mine,” Adam finally gets a chance to say. “Again. Right, this time.”

“Okay,” Matt says. “Yeah, I – yours. And you’ll be mine?”

Adam nods, raising a shaky hand to brush Matt’s hair off of his shoulders. “Yes.”

“And we can share, huh?” Matt asks. His smile grows a little devious, a little too knowing for the way he was beaming up at Adam a few seconds before. “Jeez, you never change, do you.”

Adam rolls his eyes. “We – we both had fun those few months with Cole, and you know it. Mox’ll be, uh. I think he’ll be a little different.”

“Oh, yeah,” Matt says, and he almost looks too excited. “Seen his dick. Dude’s packing. We’re in for a hell of a night.”

Adam clears his throat. “I’m done with the evening, but you, uh. You got a match soon.” He peeks down – the gear doesn’t allow much for the imagination to come up with. Matt’s clearly hard. Working on a hunch that Matt hasn’t changed as much as he likes to pretend he has, Adam leans down to his ear. “Better get that under control before thousands of people see you’re desperate for it on live television.”

And there it is. Matt lets out that little whine of his, reaches up to grip Adam by the biceps and pulls him in for the kind of kiss you couldn’t show on cable.

“You can’t – you can’t just say that kind of thing to me,” Matt laughs, sounding near hysterical. “God, you’re evil.”

Adam shrugs. “And you’re mine. So what does that say about you?”

Matt rolls his eyes and hauls Adam in for another kiss, then pushes him off. “I’ll meet you in the hotel after my match.” He squeezes Adam’s hand. “Don’t you dare leave without me.”

Adam beams at him as he walks away. “Wouldn’t dream of it, darlin’.”

~

Matt barrels backstage with the kind of grin that could blind a person, belt in the air and hair plastered to the back of his neck.

Adam steps into the hallway, hoping this isn’t a mistake. “That was a great first title defense,” he says. He feels a little too tense, like the three of them weren’t once his reason for waking up in the morning. “Fantastic match.”

Kenny exchanges a look with Matt, then with Nick. “Thanks, man.” His tone is careful. Hesitant. “Yours was amazing. Never seen you pull off two Buckshots in a row like that. Picture perfect.”

“Coming from the Best Bout Machine, that’s a big compliment.” Adam grins, but it feels a little strange. “Fuck, this is weird.”

“Okay, thank you!” Nick says, throwing his arms in the air. The end of the belt clips him in the arm, but he doesn’t seem to notice. “If you three would just be, I don’t know, adults about it and apologize, we’d be way better off. So you. All of you. Be nice.”

Adam startles. “You didn’t tell them?”

“I tried to,” Matt says, stepping next to Adam. “But it was all ‘no, we can’t break out the hammers again, Matt.’ I wasn’t trying to bring up hammers.” He points to Adam. “We – again.”

“Romantic,” Adam snickers.

“Shut up, this is hard,” Matt snaps.

Adam snickers again.

Kenny laughs. “Oh, fuck, they’re back together.” It’s not mean or vitriolic. It reminds – well, it reminds Adam of before AEW, before the civil war. It reminds him of when they were the Elite, and they all made sense to each other. “Neither of you are allowed to fuck it up this time. We’ve got too much bad PR in the past year.”

Matt rolls his eyes. “I don’t recall.”

Nick sighs. “Well, love this, love you guys, but I’m going to go shower for, like, fifteen years, and then I’m passing out in the room.” He raises an eyebrow at Matt. “I’m assuming I won’t see you tonight.”

“Oh, definitely not,” Matt says. “Yeah, I plan on being busy –”

“I forgot about the oversharing part,” Nick says with a wince, while Adam and Kenny laugh. “Please don’t finish your sentence.”

“Well, I was just –”

Nick shoves his fingers in his ears and starts yelling, “La-la-la,” as he half sprints down the hallway toward the EVP locker room.

“Can you make sure he doesn’t gamble his life away out of concern for his dearest big brother?” Matt asks Kenny. “I’ll be otherwise occupied this evening.”

Kenny rolls his eyes, but he’s grinning. “I’ll keep an eye on him. Take care of each other.” He gives Adam a pointed look. “I shouldn’t have to tell you not to hurt him again.”

Adam opens his mouth to answer, but Matt beats him to it. “We all hurt each other,” he says. “And we’ll all do better this time.”

Kenny nods. “Fair.” He claps Adam on the shoulder, gentle, kind. “We missed you.”

Adam’s a little light headed as he packs his things, but Matt is waiting for him by the door eagerly. He doesn’t want to keep him waiting. He chances a glance around the locker room. It’s empty.

“Come here,” Adam says, reaching out for Matt. He scoops him into another kiss, gentle this time. Matt sighs into it, arms settling on Adam’s hips. “Missed you,” he says into Matt’s mouth.

Matt hums, looking up at him. “Missed you, too.”

The anticipation of what comes next gone for a moment, Adam basks in the familiarity, the safety of holding Matt. It feels like home.

“Um, so, tonight,” Matt says. He licks his lips. Moment broken, but Adam’s dealt with much worse. “What do you think his whole deal is?” Matt asks, speaking a mile a minute into Adam’s shoulder as they make their way into the hallway. To keep it at a whisper, he’s pressed against the side of Adam’s body. He’s even more tactile, more desperate for physical contact than Adam remembers. It’s distracting in the best way. “Mox, I mean. You think he – think he’ll want to fuck me?” Adam turns to Matt, and his eyes are wide with glee.

“Okay, hold your horses,” Adam says, pressing a kiss to Matt’s temple. “Let’s just – let’s get to the hotel and figure things out there, okay?” Adam leans down to Matt’s ear. “The whole company can’t hear you this desperate. Think of what they’d say.”

A whole body shiver from Matt is Adam’s reward. “I really hate that I love it when you do that,” Matt says, but he’s quiet and red until they make it to Adam’s rental car.

“So, what – ”

Matt grabs him by the collar and hauls him in over the center console between the seats to shove his tongue in Adam’s mouth. Adam takes a split second to adjust, then gives just as good as Matt, trying to get one of those desperate little noises Matt’s always been so good at making.

He pulls away, breathless, after probably longer than they should have risked. “Okay,” Adam breathes. “Okay, we – we should get back to the hotel.” He can’t fight off his smile, can’t avoid looking at Matt’s smiling lips. “Don’t want to get caught.”

“Okay, well, if you do it too much, I’ll get used to it,” Matt says, buckling his seatbelt.

Adam glances down to Matt’s crotch. “Sure you will.”

~

They have to leave space between the two of them as they make their way to the hotel, to the elevator, to Adam’s room, and the anticipation is almost impossible to manage.

Matt’s on him the second the door is closed, though, shoving him up against the wall and hands going everywhere. It stuns Adam, gets his knees week, and Matt takes the moment to slide a leg between Adam’s and press up.

“Wanna touch you,” Matt murmurs against Adam’s throat, sucking hard. It’ll leave a mark, Adam realizes with a thrill. “Want you now.”

“What would Mox say if you couldn’t wait for him?” Adam asks, catching Matt’s wandering hands in his.

Matt sighs, a shiver running down his spine and all through his body. “Oh, you are the worst.”

Adam stretches, trying to get his own dick under control. “In the way you like, though.”

Matt texts Mox, who shoots back, stop by whenever, like it wasn’t his idea.

“He doesn’t even seem excited about it,” Matt pouts. He looks up. “Think he changed his mind?”

“Absolutely not,” Adam says, pulling his hair back in a little ponytail for function. “He’s just weird.”

Matt considers it. “Yeah.”

They take their own trips down the hallway to Mox’s room, and Adam makes Matt go first. The anticipation of waiting the five minutes to get down to the fourth floor, to meet up with Mox and Matt, damned near kills him.

He walks too quickly down the hall, too quickly into the elevator, too quickly to Mox’s room. He knocks, and time slows as he waits for the door to open. It doesn’t.

With a shaky hand, he goes for the handle. He pushes it open slowly to see Mox kissing Matt so gently, so meticulously, it makes Adam’s head spin.

“Started without me?” he laughs. He makes sure the door is closed, locked, behind him. He swallows hard. “God, that’s a pretty sight.”

Matt’s eyes are already a little dazed when he turns to Adam, but not so much they don’t light up when he sees him. “Hi!”

“Hey, baby,” he murmurs, coming to kiss Matt’s cheek. He offers an awkward wave to Mox. “Uh. Hi.”

“Hey,” Mox says. “Took you long enough.”

“I waited five minutes,” Adam says, playing with a strand of Matt’s hair that’s come loose from his hair tie. “Figured that’d keep anybody from getting suspicious.”

Mox’s laugh is low, quiet, full of potential. “Let’s hope the rooms near us are empty.” He drops his head to Matt’s ear, and Adam can hardly hear it when he mutters, “Don’t want people hearing it when you get loud.”

Matt’s eyes flutter shut and he lets out one of Adam’s favorite sounds.

“Yeah, he likes that,” Adam says with a little chuckle.

“What else do you like, baby?” Mox asks, tugging at Matt’s earlobe with his teeth.

“Somebody’s gotta fuck me,” Matt says, head thrown back. “Otherwise I might die. I, uh.” He shakes his head. “Okay, if you keep doing that thing with your tongue, I won’t be able to answer any questions.” Mox takes a step back, and Matt straight up pouts. “I didn’t mean go that far away, but fine.” He licks his lips. “I, uh. I want to see you guys kiss.” He swallows. “And, like. Don’t hold back.” He sits himself on the bed, kicks off his shoes, and crosses his legs. “Alright, then.”

Adam turns to Mox, heart racing. “I’ve never been able to say no to him before.” He swallows. “Don’t want to.”

Mox grabs Adam by the arm and hauls him in. Adam’s not willing to cede control of the kiss, though. He wants to put on a good show for Matt, give him everything he wants and more. He leans in, biting at Mox’s lip before he dives into the kiss. Mox kisses like he wrestles: rough, ruthless, dedicated. Adam gets a little lightheaded when he threads his hands through Adam’s hair and tugs a little, undoing the ponytail. Adam grabs at the front of his shirt, holding him to his chest. He wants Mox to remember he’s not the only world champion in the room.

“This is good,” he hears Matt say. “This – this is really good.”

Adam laughs against Mox’s mouth and presses Mox against the wall, cracking his head against a rather ugly painting. “Sorry,” he murmurs against Mox’s neck.

“’M good.” Mox grabs at Adam’s shirt, yanking it out of his jeans. “Take off your shirt.”

“You take off yours.”

“Take them both off,” Matt says from the bed. Adam looks over to see him a little eager, a little antsy. “Please?”

Mox lights up as Adam pulls his shirt off. “Oh, he says please?”

“Wait until you get him underneath you,” Adam says, biting at Mox’s neck after he gets the shirt off. “He asks so nicely. He’ll beg real pretty, too, if you’re patient.” Adam meets Matt’s eyes as he sucks a bruise into Mox’s collarbone. Matt’s squirming from where he sits on the bed, tugging on his hair and biting his lip. “Oh, Mox, look at him now.”

Mox turns his head, grins. “Matt, you want in on it?”

Matt nods frantically. “Yes, oh my god. Yes.” He reaches out and Adam has to laugh – Matt still does the little grabby hands when he’s particularly excited.

Adam turns to Mox, and it feels like they’re in the ring. This time the prize is Matt Jackson, and they can both win. Adam dives at Matt first, though, because Matt’s his and all, and flattens him to the bed. He presses his mouth to Matt’s with single-minded determination, sliding his hands up Matt’s shirt to tweak at his nipples. He grins as he swallows Matt’s whine. And then Matt yelps.

Adam pulls back to see Moxley, at the head of the bed, gently gathering Matt’s wrists in his hands. He looks at Matt. “You good?”

“Of course I’m good! Why the eff did you stop?” Matt arches up to Adam, eyes fluttering closed when he pushes against Mox’s grip and finds immediate resistance. “Oh my god,” he mumbles.

“Worked on a hunch,” Mox says. “Good, Matt?”

“Yes, good, so good.”

Adam slowly pushes Matt’s shirt up, sliding it into Mox’s hands so he can pull it off of Matt’s body while keeping his grip on Matt’s wrists. Adam gives him a second to stare, to take in the man in front of him. “God, you look good,” he mutters, “you – fuck.”

Matt’s eyes are closed when he replies, “You look good too. So good.”

“Your eyes aren’t even open,” Adam laughs against the skin of Matt’s chest. He drags kisses around the skin until he reaches Matt’s nipple, flicking his tongue over it.

“I – oh – you always look good,” Matt says. “So, so good right now. You,” he stops talking, trading words for the most intoxicating little sigh that makes Adam desperate for more of it. He turns to the other nipple, giving it the same attention.

“You both look fucking great right now,” Mox says. His voice is deeper than Adam’s ever heard it. “Like – fuck.” Adam raises his head in time to see Mox reach down and grab at his cock through his sweatpants. Adam’s mouth starts watering.

“Yeah?” Adam asks. He locks eye with Moxley as he slides down Matt’s body, getting his fingers into the waistband of Matt’s sweats and slowly pulling them down. “You ain’t seen nothin’ yet.”

“Oh, yes,” Matt groans as Adam wraps his mouth around his cock. He’s not working with an end goal right now, focusing on keeping his eyes locked on Moxley’s and getting him to lose his composure. He’s too controlled right now, too steady, and Adam’s got to see what’s behind that wall. He wants to tear it down with his teeth.

“Keep goin’,” Mox growls. “Look so good like this, Adam. So good.”

The use of his name sends a tingle down to his spine that gets Adam’s cock harder than he’d thought possible, and he has to pause to breathe and adjust his pants.

Matt immediately goes to sit up, and gets stopped by Mox’s hand on his wrists. “I – oh, Adam, why’d you stop?”

“Mox is – he’s,” but Adam finds himself struggling to find the right words, settling instead for turning for more room, pushing his sweats out of the way and wrapping a hand around his own cock, already leaking. He sighs in relief, gives himself a few strokes.

“Are you – Mox, is he touching himself?” Matt asks. “Stop it! That’s our job.”

Adam rolls his eyes. “Oh, because you’re the one in charge.”

Mox laughs.

“I could be in charge!” Matt says, and he starts pulling at Mox’s hand enough that he slips out of his grip. He dives off the bed into Adam’s lap and grabs Adam’s hands, pins them to the side of the bed.

Adam does his best not to smile, but this is great. “Baby. You’re so good at so many things, but you’ll never be a top.” Matt literally pouts, gets those big fucking boo boo eyes that get Adam every time. But he’s not a liar. “Come on, sweetheart, look inside yourself. You know it to be true.”

“Oh, fuck, you quote Star Wars in bed?” Moxley says, sounding strangely delighted. Adam bucks his hips and knocks Matt off his lap, sending him sprawling, so he can look at Mox’s face. He’s grinning so wide he looks like he won the lottery. “Between the two of you, you hit all my fuckin’ buttons. Get the fuck back onto the bed. I gotta get inside of one of you before I lose my goddamned mind.”

Matt stands up, pulls off his sweats all the way. “My turn. Adam’s being a dick.”

“You were on my lap, I needed to get you off.”

Mox and Matt, at the exact time, say, “That’s what she said.”

“Oh, god, you’re both like this,” Adam grumbles. “Okay, well, if that didn’t kill my boner, nothing will.” He nods at Mox. “You want him?”

“Sure!” Mox says. “Matty, come over here.”

Matt rolls his eyes, but he crawls back up on the bed and throws a leg over Mox’s hips, twitching his hips forward just a little. It’s enough to get Mox to exhale shakily. The composure is breaking. Maybe Adam’s not the one who can do it.

Adam watches greedily as Matt and Mox kiss each other deeply, Mox’s hand grabbing at Matt’s ass. He pats it gently.

“Is it okay…?”

Matt nods. “Yeah, oh yeah. Leave handprints on my ass, all that.”

Mox quirks an eyebrow and looks over to Adam. “He always like this?”

“Usually,” Adam remembers. “Loves to talk about it, too.” He winks at Matt.

“Oh?” Mox says. “Tell me, Matt. How hard?”

“Handprints,” Matt repeats. “Please?”

Mox grins as he pulls back, the crack of his hand against Matt’s ass music to Adam’s ears. Matt drops his head down against Mox’s shoulder, rocking his hips forward. “Oh.”

Adam stands up behind Matt, drawing back. His slap is a little more gentle, but Matt responds to it, too, tilting his head back this time to rest against Adam’s chest.

Matt turns up and catches Adam’s mouth in a kiss. When he breaks away, he pats at Adam’s chest, and Adam steps away, interested in what comes next. He’s not disappointed. “Mox, can I suck your dick?”

“Fuck, yeah.”

Adam settles himself on the bed next to Mox as Matt drops to his knees. Without prelude or fanfare, Matt tucks his loose hair behind his ear and dives in, mouth stretching around Mox’s cock like it’s not the first time.

Mox’s eyes flutter closed, hands gripping at the sheets. “Oh, fuck, you’re good at this.”

“He likes it when you pull his hair,” Adam murmurs into Mox’s ear. “He gets this little look – just try it.”

Matt nods, and he looks so goddamn good with Mox’s cock in his mouth that it makes Adam want to drop to his knees and propose right then and there.

“Good,” Mox says, voice honey and gravel. Adam watches, raptly, as Mox threads his fingers through Matt’s hair, and pulls.

Matt moans around Mox’s cock, sinking deeper onto it as his eyes flutter closed.

“Yeah,” Adam says, brushing Matt’s cheek where Mox’s dick nudges that. “So pretty, baby.” He looks up to Mox. “You can pull harder.”

He grins a little. “Okay, Cowboy, who said you were in charge here?”

“Who said you were?” Adam retorts, licking his lips. “He’s my boyfriend.”

“It’s my hotel room.”

There’s an infuriated little noise followed by a wet pop. “Can you two stop arguing about who’s gonna be better at topping me and just do it?” Matt asks. He looks genuinely annoyed, which, to Adam’s own annoyance, is also hot. “Jesus, what’s a guy gotta do to get fucked around here?”

Adam sighs and grabs a fistful of Matt’s hair so he stands, pulling him into his lap. Matt sighs happily as he settles on Adam’s legs. “Least you could do is ask nicely.”

“Eff that,” Matt says. “Right now you guys are being annoying and, still, nobody’s fucking me.”

“You really haven’t changed.”

Mox laughs, low and dark and delicious. “This may be my best idea yet. Matt, kiss Adam.”

Matt does so without hesitation, leaning over Mox and pressing his lips to Adam’s. Adam opens up to it without a second thought, smacking Matt’s ass again. Matt hums in approval, grinding down on Adam, and it’s enough encouragement to get Adam to suck at Matt’s collarbone. Mox might be here, but Matt is, and always has been, Adam’s.

Adam leans back on the bed, pulling Matt with him. Matt kisses down his chest, biting at his chest, leaving little marks.

“Mine,” Matt mutters, “mine again.”

“That’s sweet,” Mox says. “What else do you want, Matt?” He plays with Matt’s hair, and the vision of Mox behind Matt is a glorious sight.

“I have an idea,” Matt says, punctuating with one last nip at Adam’s nipple, “like, a really good idea.”

“Hmm?” Adam asks, dazed. Mox rubs at Matt’s hips, up his sides, to the back of his neck.

“What if – mm – what if Adam, you fuck me while – while Mox fucks you?”

Adam pauses. “Oh?” It’s never been an option before, but it’s suddenly all Adam’s ever wanted.

“You never get railed enough,” Matt says, like he’s discussing Adam being low on vitamin c, “you need it, but I don’t…do that. So.” He looks over at Mox, big ol’ Bambi eyes in full force. “Would you do that for him?”

“For him?” Mox asks, a splash of laughter in his tone. “Baby, I’ll do that for me.” He taps Adam. “Hey. Cowboy. You down for that?” He locks his eyes on Adam’s.

“Yes.” Adam’s voice comes out as a squeak. He clears his throat. “Um, hell yes. Please. Yes.” He shakes his head. “Definitely. You got condoms? Lube?”

Mox leans over to the hotel room drawer and pulls the supplies out.

“They just keep that stuff in there now?” Adam jokes.

“We’d have saved a bunch of money in the Ring of Honor days if they did,” Matt says.

“Nah,” Mox says, with a lewd sort of grin. “I bring my shit any time I think somebody on the roster might want to have a little fun.”

Adam blinks. “Damn.”

“You two have been on my radar for a while, though, so nobody for a bit.” He reaches out for Adam and pulls him in, lips going for Adam’s neck. His mind goes a little blank, hands gripping at whatever’s in front of him, desperate for this to never stop.

“If you want to give Matt what he wants, we’re going to have to stop,” Mox says.

Adam shakes his head, pulls back. “Right. What’s next?”

Mox’s grin is slow and dirty. “Just watch.”

And Adam does. He watches as Mox, with painstaking, careful, concentration, opens Matt up, fingers nimble and slick as they slide in and out of Matt.

“So pretty,” Adam murmurs into Matt’s ear, pressing kisses.

Matt smiles. “He does it different than you.”

“Good different?”

Matt nods. “Very good.”

“He takes it so well, huh?” Adam says to Mox. “Just wait ‘til you see him take my cock.”

Mox rolls his shoulders, and his gaze burns when he meets Adam’s eyes. “That sounds like a fuckin’ dream.”

Adam gets impatient fast, watching the glacial pace of Mox working up from one finger, and grabs the lube himself.

“What are you doing?” Matt asks, looking intrigued.

“Mox is busy,” Adam says, slicking up his fingers. He drops back on the bed next to Matt. “Sometimes to get a job done you have to do it yourself.”

“Impatient,” Mox chides, but his eyes are sliding between Matt and Adam, like he can’t decide where to focus longer.

Adam’s mind goes a little blank as he works himself up to one, two, three fingers. Mox matches his pace with Matt once he starts to beg. At some point, Matt’s reached over and grabbed Adam’s arm, which is so sweet that Adam whines.

“You ready, Adam?” Mox asks. “Looks like Matt’s ready for you.”

“So ready,” Matt says, nails digging into Adam’s bicep. “C’mon, Adam, please.”

It takes a minute to get everyone in the right place to make this work. Sliding into Matt is like opening your front door when you get home, Matt laid out on the bed like an angel. Adam’s body covers him completely, fucking into Matt a few times to get that frustrated, desperate look out of his eyes, but he stills as he feels Mox’s hands on his hips.

“I’m gonna check with you, like, thirty times,” Mox says, stroking up and down Adam’s sides. “If anything feels off, you gotta tell me, okay?”

“Yeah,” Adam replies. The waiting is almost too much to take. He hears Mox slick himself up behind him, feels the head of his cock nudge up against him. “Oh, my god, do you get off on torture or something? Get in me already.”

Matt laughs. “You sound like me.”

“Yeah, sexually transmitted brat,” Mox chuckles. “Okay, Adam, you ready?”

“Obviously.”

Adam almost collapses. Mox fills him painfully slowly, like he’s taking the time to memorize every inch of Adam, and Matt reaches up to cup Adam’s cheek.

“You like it?” Matt asks, like there’s any answer but yes.

Adam nods, turning his head to press a kiss to Matt’s palm. “Yeah, baby. All of it.”

They all settle around each other, and Adam’s never felt this before: filled and surrounded. He’s drowning in the way Mox curls around his back, hands on his hips. The way Matt’s threaded his fingers with Adam’s, is smiling up at Adam like he’s everything Matt could have imagined.

“You can start moving,” Adam says, wiggling his hips. He hears Mox exhale hard against the back of his neck, sees Matt press his eyes closed at the moment.

Mox presses a kiss to the back of Adam’s neck. “Okay.”

Adam doesn’t think he’s ever felt this right in his life.

“You good, Cowboy?” Mox asks. He sounds strained, the way Adam feels, buried to the hilt.

It’s almost too much, Adam thinks, Mox filling him while he feels the heat of Matt curling around him. “Good,” Adam gasps. “So good.”

“Matt, he look okay?” Mox asks.

“He looks great,” Matt says, and the way he locks eyes with Mox over Adam’s shoulder is almost enough for Adam to come right then and there. “He – oh, god – he’s.” But Matt cuts himself off, twisting his hips so that Adam sees stars in his vision.

“I’m good,” Adam says, “I – please.”

“Sounds like Matt’s not the only one who can ask pretty,” Mox murmurs into Adam’s ear, and Adam can’t help it. His hips buck forward, shifting Matt a tiny bit up the bed.

But the movement isn’t what catches his attention – Matt’s face falls open in a perfect little gasp, hands gripping at the sheets. “Yes,” he moans. “I forgot how good this is.”

“You guys do this a lot?” Mox asks, and he pulls out slowly. Adam’s about to beg for him to fuck him harder, when Mox starts a steady pace. Adam almost doesn’t have to do anything to push into Matt, but he picks up Moxley’s rhythm and is able to match it with thrusts into Matt’s body. It’s easier to coordinate than he would have expected, but they’ve all been in the ring together. This is just a different way to do it.

“Used to,” Adam manages. He’s spinning with sensation, with the warmth and the smell and the feel of it all. “Stopped for a while. Broke up.”

“Back together now?”

“How the fuck,” Matt pants, “are you so put together, Moxley?” It’s a fair question – Adam feels wrecked already and he hasn’t even come, and Matt’s face is so screwed up that he looks like he’s in pain.

“Practice,” Mox laughs. “And I have a job to do.”

They’re quiet for a while, save for wordless sounds from any of the three of them, and Adam focuses on Matt, mostly. He knows the way he likes it, memorized years ago the way to move to hit the right spots. The places on his body that are the most sensitive. He brushes a thumb across Matt’s lips. “You good, baby?”

“Close,” Matt whines. “I – can I?”

“If you ask nicely,” Mox says, “what do you think, Adam, does Matty deserve to come?”

“I think so,” Adam says, picking up the pace along with Moxley. He wants Matt to come first. He always makes sure Matt comes first. “Matt?”

“Please,” Matt begs, “god, please, I gotta – Adam,” his voice goes soft, his eyes meet Adam’s. Those big doe eyes do Adam in every time. “Adam, please. Touch me.”

And how could anyone say no? Adam steadies himself with one hand and reaches between them to stroke Matt’s cock with his and Moxley’s thrusts. It requires a level of coordination Adam finds himself thankful to wrestling for. He wouldn’t be here and wouldn’t be able to pull any of this of without it.

“Faster,” Adam tells Mox, and he complies. Matt needs it fast, a little rough, when he’s this close. There’s no way that’s changed.

Adam’s right – quickly, Matt’s coming all over his belly and Adam’s hand with a wordless sigh that makes him look goddamned ethereal.

“Fuck, you’re gorgeous,” Moxley says, “Cowboy, you ready to go?”

“What?”

Mox laughs in his ear. “Ready for me to wreck you?”

“Oh, fuck yes. Just – hold on one second.” He leans down, feeling Mox slide out of him in a way that leaves him squirming, but he presses a kiss to Matt’s forehead. “You okay, sweetheart?”

“Yeah,” Matt says, beaming. “Wanna see you and Mox.”

Adam presses a quick kiss to his mouth and pulls out of him, rubbing at Matt’s thighs soothingly as Matt adjusts. It only takes seconds, though, until Matt is up at the headboard, half-lidded eyes staring at Adam and Mox like he’d be ready to go again in minutes.

Adam ties off the condom and manages to get it in the trash without much problem, something he’d probably gloat about if he wasn’t about to get railed within an inch of his life by Jon Moxley.

Moxley grabs Adam by the waist. “Alright, slide down to the end of the bed. I’m gonna fuck you so Matt can see your pretty face when you come.”

Adam and Matt make a dumb whining sound at the same time, but Adam will intentionally not remember that. He does as Mox says, and Mox throws one of his legs over his shoulders. “Good?”

“So fucking good,” Adam pants.

“Hang on, Hangman,” Mox says with a wink.

And hang on he does. He’s worried he’s about to slip off the bed, but Mox has a decent grip on Adam and he doesn’t fall, no matter how close he comes to it. Matt slides down to his level, pressing the sweetest little kisses to his cheeks, chest, neck, licking over the bruises on his chest from earlier, a hand over his stomach as his muscles flutter and tense. “Doing so good,” Matt murmurs into his ear, “never seen you like this, you take it so well.”

Adam forces his eyes open to see Matt, hair framing his face like a halo, and that’s what does him in. Matt kisses him as the moment washes over him, coming hard across his stomach and Matt’s arm where it rests across Adam’s chest.

“So – fucking – pretty,” Mox moans, and Adam feels Mox coming by the way he digs his fingernails into Adam’s thigh. He makes all these little noises, ones Adam’s used to hearing from Matt, as his hips stutter. Adam feels dizzy.

Mox drops to his knees, resting his forehead on Adam’s thigh.

“You good, Mox?” Adam asks. He reaches out and strokes the back of Mox’s neck. “Okay?”

“Awesome,” Mox says on an exhale. His whole body shivers. “Oh, man, I’ve been dreaming of that since I joined this fuckin’ company.” He lifts his head, grinning.

They all catch their breath where they lay for a few moments. Unsurprisingly, Matt’s the one to break the silence. “Everybody back on the bed,” he says, scooting back. “I’m cold.”

All Adam can manage is to flop on the bed face down onto the last pillow that didn’t get kicked off. “Night.”

“Absolutely not,” Mox says, pushing at his hip. “Give me that pillow.”

“Nope.” Adam says, snuggling down. “I live here now.”

“Then I’m getting a cigarette,” Mox says. “Lord knows I need one after that.” Adam takes in the sounds of the room. Rustling, a door opening, the flick of a lighter.

Matt snuggles around him, arms around his waist. “This isn’t as comfortable without a pillow.”

“Check the floor,” Adam mumbles.

The bed shifts. “Uh oh,” Matt says.

“What?” Mox asks. He sounds a bit far away.  

Matt plants his hands on his hips. “The lube spilled. Like, everywhere.” He picks up a pillow, now practically translucent. “I think these sheets are a goner.”

“Oh, Tony’s gonna be pissed at that hotel bill,” Adam mumbles, still face down in a pillow. He feels somebody brush his hair off his neck, and sits up to see Matt beaming at him.

“You guys are too fuckin’ cute,” Mox says. Adam turns to see him on the balcony. He takes a drag on his cigarette from where he sits, shirtless with the sweatpants back on, looking fucked out. It’s a good look. “Weird you were both just begging to be railed within an inch of your lives.”

“I can be cute and horny,” Matt says, tying his hair back

“Damn right you can,” Adam grumbles. He pushes himself up, rolling his shoulders and flexing, the stiffness from the match replaced with the delicious ache after sex. “I’m hungry. How’s room service here?” He turns to see Matt staring at him, looking hungry in a very different way.

“It’s good,” Mox says. “Got the mac and cheese last night.”

Matt wrinkles his nose. Adam wants to kiss it. “That would eff me up for days.”

“Oh, baby, we took care of fucking you up,” Adam laughs, nuzzling into Matt’s neck. He wraps his arms around Matt’s waist and rolls him back into bed. It’s a level of comfort and familiarity that Adam hadn’t realized he’s been aching for, craving, for years.

Matt hums as Adam presses kisses to his hair.

There’s heavy footsteps and the bed dips again, an arm thrown over Matt and Adam. “I like you two,” Mox says, and Matt raises his head to see Mox spooning up behind Adam in a surprisingly charming move. “We should definitely do this again.”

Adam mutters something through a yawn, and his grip goes a little loose around Matt.

“Oh, wait, hold on,” Matt says. “I gotta go shower before we sleep. And there’s no way we’re staying in this bed. We have, like, one pillow and half of a sheet.”

“We’ll make it down to my room,” Adam says. “We can go in shifts or something.”

“Nah,” Mox says. “Let ‘em see.”

It takes a while to find all of the clothes the three of them had thrown around the room, but they make their way down to Adam’s room. The neat bed is inviting, and Adam throws himself down onto it. “Go shower, baby,” he murmurs. “Mox’ll order food and I’m gonna nap.”

“How come you don’t have to do anything?” Matt laughs.

Adam flips him off, and dozes off.

When he wakes up soon after, there’s a cozy, dry Matt snuggled up with him, and Mox has, indeed, ordered the mac and cheese. He could get used to this.

[riptideripley]

Chapter Three of: Addicted.

word count: 762

Rheas POV

"So..Roman again huh?"

"Dom look ok- we got a little alcohol in our system alright j-"

"Bullshit Rhea. You said that the last time and you promised me it would never happen again." he spat out at me, I could tell he was getting irritated by the second.

I looked over his shoulder to see Damian and Finn in the bed, Damian's eyes not daring to look at me. Then I finally put the pieces together to realize that Damian was the one who told him all of this shit. How the fuck did he know?? Wait..Liv.

I felt my suitcase fall in front of me and I quickly turned my attention back to Dominik, eyes widening in hurt and confusion. Was he really kicking me out of my own fucking room?

"Get out. I booked you another room on the next floor down, I'll talk when I'm ready." the door slammed shut in my face after he spoke.

No ones POV.

Roman was heading out of his room when he heard sobs as someone stepped off the elevator. His eyes widened when he saw Rhea getting off crying, her suitcase in her hand.

"Rhea..w-what's wrong you alright?" he asked, gently pulling her into a hug as she sobbed more into his chest. "H-he kicked me out.." she managed to speak out through choking sobs. His heart sank knowing what she could've possibly meant, he never told her but Liv saw them leave. He thought she wouldn't say anything but turns out he was completely wrong.

"Let's just get you to your room alright? Here give me the key" he took the key card from her hand and read it. Fucking great. "Looks like we're in the same room Rips.." he spoke with a sigh as he walked her to the room and opened the door.

"I'm sorry I-I don't know why he would-"

"Don't worry about it, alright? Just get comfortable and get you some rest. I'll be back later" he spoke reassuringly as he tossed her the key card, giving her a soft smile as he closed the door.

An hour later.

Roman had met up with Dean at this small bar, he checked his phone seeing as he had a flight in about 5 hours but he'll manage. "Hey Ro" he heard the familiar voice of Dean appear in front of him.

"Hey Dede" he smiled back and stood up, giving him a warm hug. Roman decided on just ordering a water while Dean ordered double whiskey. "You know..it's been a while" Dean whispered, his hand running up Roman's thigh. Roman stiffened in his seat completely at lost for words.

I mean he was right, it had been a long time since the two of them were alone..together. God knows Roman missed the feeling but with him sharing a room with Rhea, there was no chance of him getting to that feeling..or was there?

45 minutes later.

Roman finally got out of the car after a long fuck session with Dean in his backseat. It felt way better than he remembered and he just knew he couldn't pass up on another opportunity. When he arrived at the hotel to get ready for his flight out to the next arena, he stopped at the sound of yelling and things being broken.

"IYO?!" Rhea yelled out as she threw some of Damian's stuff. Damian just stood there guilty, Iyo Sky standing next to him. "RIGHT BEFORE WRESLTEMANIA?! REALLY DAMIAN?!" she continued to yell and scream at the both of them. Roman was aware of what happened but would've never expected it to be..Iyo. Rhea had a point tho, Iyo had a match against Bayley at mania and with a baby in her stomach there was no possible way for her to wrestle.

Roman just quietly walked to the elevator and pressed the button, he couldn't wait for the pocketbook to start talking.

About 15 minutes later while he's packing, the door opens. Rhea still looks pissed as she walks through the door and slams it behind her. "And where the fuck did you. go?" Rhea questioned him as she plopped down on the bed.

"Meet up with an old friend, you ready for the flight in about 4 hours? I know we're going to different places but-"

"No we aren't. Paul switched you and your cousins flight, guess he forgot to tell you" she told him as he stood there confused but nodded.

"Guess I'll see you there then."

[soysaucevictim]

For the WIP ask game:

3. What tags or warnings will you include in your story?

5. Which of your WIPs are you most likely to finish or update next?

7. Post any sentence from one of your WIPs.

3.) The Gymrat fic is mostly just fluff... So far the Hero!Remus fic's CWs are: Major Character Death, Graphic Violence, Body Horror, Cosmic Horror, Parental Death, Murder, Torture, Abuse (physical, emotional, psychological, spiritual), Roman & Remus Do Not Have A Good Relationship, Remus Is Not The Good Guy, Alternating POV.

5.) Probably the Gymrat fic - it's just a lil drabble. The Hero!Remus one is gonna be a chaptered fic (and I generally want to finish up before I post the chapters).

7.) Gonna share a tidbit from the Hero!Remus one... not really a single sentence, but whatever, man. :,D

Remus swallowed down his nausea, “I-I think I know what’s happening. But- but don’t worry too much okay? We’ll figure this out, okay? I’ll help you fix this. I promise.”