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illeee-girl · 3 years ago

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La La(chimolala) Land Chapter Four: To the Hills

jimin x reader genre: fluff, fluff, and more fluff word count: 2.5k warnings: none

[Inspired by La La Land]

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You wait on the sidewalk outside your apartment building, gazing up at the palm fronds directly towering over you and the electric blue sky beyond. Late spring in LA is usually nice, after the rainy season has finished—but this year's weather is phenomenal. If you weren't waiting on the car to come pick you up, you'd have headed for the hills hours ago. For a moment, you consider ditching. A picnic up the canyon sounds nice. After all, you do love your alone time.

But you've been anticipating this moment all weekend. So when the limo pulls up, you climb inside.

Is a limo really necessary? I'm just one person. But it doesn't seem like this Jimin guy does things halfway.

The driver takes the 405 up into the Valley, and ventures out onto Mulholland Drive. As you climb higher towards the cloudless sky, you take in the view below. It's a clear day; you can see for miles. You think back to your first meeting with Jimin. You have to look up, he'd said.

Now, you wonder why you were ever looking down.

You reach San Vincente Mountain Park, a picturesque spot perched atop a peak in the Santa Monica Mountains. The dirt road ahead has been blocked off, but a team of men arrive almost instantly to remove the barriers for you. Trailers, cameras, and lighting equipment are spread across the dusty mountain landscape. The driver opens the door for you—nice touch—and you step out of the limo.

"JIMIN-SSHI, SHE'S HERE!" You hear a voice yell.

The door to a trailer across the way bursts open with a dramatic flourish, and Jimin appears in the frame. His blonde hair is freshly washed and blow-dried, his makeup impeccably applied. He's dressed in a crisp, baby-blue suit that compliments the afternoon sky in a way that had to have been planned. The top few buttons of his white dress shirt are undone, and as he eagerly approaches you, you notice a tiny mole resting on his collarbone.

"Y/N! You're here! I'm glad you made it before we start filming—I can show you around a bit. Was the ride comfortable? I wanted a white limo but the service said they only had black available. Did you find the strawberries I put for you in the cooler? I was worried you wouldn't open it and find them there, so I wanted to put a sign, like a sticky note that said 'Hey, Y/N! Open here for strawberries!'—but Tae said that would be tacky, and I think he's right. Oh, and I hope you like strawberries. I hope you're not allergic. In The Parent Trap, Lindsey Lohan's allergic to strawberries. That's how I know it's a real possibility. You can learn so much from movies. Have you seen—"

"Jimin-ah, breathe." One of Jimin's bandmates appears behind him, slapping his back and stopping his monologue. "I'm sorry, Y/N. He gets chatty when he's nervous." He winks. "I'm Taehyung, but you can call me Tae."

"It's nice to meet you, Tae."

"That's Jungkook over there, downing donuts at craft service. He's the one who shouted when your limo pulled up."

"I am perfectly able to introduce her to Jungkook myself, hyung," Jimin defends.

"Yes," Tae responds, "but can you do it in less than eight thousand words?"

Jimin stares daggers at his bandmate, but quickly turns his attention back to you. "Come with me," he says, grabbing your arm to lead you. He lets go just seconds later, and looks as if he'd just reminded himself of something important. "You look great, by the way."

And he's right. You still feel terribly outclassed by him in the fashion department, but you spent a lot more time on your ensemble this time. It's warm out, so you paired a collared, pinstriped dress made of light cotton with a pair of wedge sandals. Walking along the dirt road makes you regret wearing open-toed shoes, but you can't help but notice that the blue of your dress exactly matches the blue of his suit. And with the vibrant California sky as a backdrop, you're both a picture in azure.

You make the traditional amount of small talk—how's your day, how was your weekend—as he leads you down a path and up some stairs to a viewing platform. From here, you can see both the Valley and LA: slopes and canyons, palm trees and sage brush, dirt roads and highways. You can certainly see more from up here than you could on top of City Hall.

You lean against the railing, and Jimin lags behind a bit before joining you. He doesn't seem too enthralled by the view beyond his immediate location.

"We always seem to find ourselves high up, huh?" You smile at him.

"We sure do," a grin tugs at his lips before he licks them nervously. "You're not . . . scared by being up here, are you? We can go back down."

"No, I'm fine." You assure him. "It's . . . beautiful up here."

"It is," he agrees—but he still isn't looking out towards the city. A gust of wind travels through his hair and shirt, reminding you again of the time you met. You feel the urge to grab his collar again—but why? You're not frightened.

In fact, you feel enchanted.

"So, what can I expect today?" You ask him.

"Oh, right," he says, remembering the reason you're here. "Well, we're filming a music video for our new album. The song's about flying high through life—above the chaos and noise of all the distractions—so we figured a mountain peak would be a good fit. Or, rather, the directors did. I don't get to make these decisions."

"Wait . . . is that why you were at City Hall? To shoot at a place high in the air?"

He nods. "As the video progresses, we travel higher and higher up."

"That's . . . way cool."

"As always, you have such a way with words, Y/N."

You smile. "I sure hope so. My entire dream depends on it."

He turns serious. "Well, you'll learn a lot today. We're going to film the parts of the song that we need to, and it'll take more than a couple of tries. You'll see us get flustered, and tired, and hungry, and frustrated. One of us may even get mad at another—it's been known to happen—but someone else will step in and help out."

"And are you usually the peacemaker around here, or the instigator?"

"I . . . opt not to answer that question."

"By refusing to respond, you answer it for me."

"That's only because you're highly intelligent." He moves closer to you.

"Not at all. It's common sense. People want to save face. They'll avoid saying anything that will make them look bad. I've studied this in my character development classes—I know."

"I don't doubt it." He half-whispers, getting closer still.

"And seeing as how you were such a chatterbox earlier when you were nervous, you probably get quiet and despondent when you're frustrated. They're quite different emotions—at least in my book—so you're bound to have converse responses."

"You already know me so well." His lips are inches from yours.

"JIMIN! WE START SHOOTING IN FIVE!" A yell interrupts.

"Ughhh," he whines. "Duty calls."

_________________________

In what seems like a flash, Jimin is in front of the cameras. It's a real "Avengers Assemble" moment, except with seven extremely attractive Korean men dressed in suits. Tae's in navy, and Jungkook—who seems to be the star of the show—is in white. You're unsure of the others' names; there was no time for introductions like Jimin had planned.

They line up in a v-formation with Jungkook at the helm. Jimin's near the back . . .

But you cannot, for the life of you, take your eyes off of him as he starts dancing.

It's anything but a simple dance. The song has a steady, powerful beat—and Jimin follows it exactly. Every part of him is moving: feet, shoulders, hips . . . you cannot stop watching his hips.

You brought your favorite notebook and pen, planning to absorb as much as you can for your research. But not a lot gets written down. What words could you even use to describe it? Enthralling? Entrancing? Mesmerizing?

How about just sexy?

Woah, you tell yourself. Stop it. You can do this. Focus.

They do about five takes of the dance. A few of them sing along with the backing track (they'd recorded the song beforehand so they would have something to dance to), but Jimin isn't one of them. They take breaks in between to swig some water, and the makeup artists come out of the shadows to freshen the boys' looks. By the fifth take, the directors are fairly satisfied with the results—but Jimin doesn't seem to be.

"I don't think I'm hitting the beat quite right when Jin starts singing," he says. He crouches behind the camera equipment to watch the playback. "Yup. Right there. I'm coming in late."

"Jimin-ah, you've been dancing perfectly," says one of the taller ones. He seems to be the leader of the group. "If the film crew doesn't see a problem, I think we can move on to the next shot."

"One more try, Namjoon-ah. Please," Jimin pleads.

You watch as Jimin practically writhes in discomfort. He nervously pulls at his fingers and runs his hands through his hair as he watches the playback over and over again. What's going through his head is as clear as day to you.

He's being much, much too hard on himself.

You're unsure of how to approach him. You feel out of place among all these professionals—you're just some random, nerdy screenwriter, after all—but you want to help him.

Your feet start moving before your brain realizes what you're doing. You emerge from your comfortable spot in the background and walk towards the camera station. He sees you approaching out of the corner of his eye and turns to look at you. You stop in your tracks, sheer panic hitting you like a semi-truck. What do I say to him? You manage a weak, shy smile.

And he matches it with a grin: one that holds the power to explode any heart.

"Very well," Jimin says to Namjoon. "Let's move on."

The team quickly shoots the scene for one of the rapper's parts, and then it's time for Jimin's solo at the bridge of the song. The hair and makeup team has altered his look just a little bit; the suit jacket has come off, and a few more of the buttons on his dress shirt have been popped. He struts out of his trailer, spotting you waiting off to the side.

"I'm sorry for all the wait. But at least now you know that the industry requires a lot of patience."

You force your eyes to leave his bare chest. "It's okay. I'm learning a lot." Only half a lie.

"That's awesome." A long pause ensues. His eyes travel downwards. "It's . . . it can be intense. I wish—"

"Park Jimin! Get up to that viewing platform, now!" Interrupted again.

He cringes. "I'm sorry this keeps happening."

A director walks up, and proceeds to literally drag Jimin away from you.

You trail behind the posse, struggling to keep up in your wedges. You clutch your notebook to your chest. What was he about to say? He wishes . . . he wishes what? Thoughts swirl through your head, and excitement swirls through your stomach.

Focus up, you tell yourself. You review the minimal notes you've taken on the band members—just a page of bullet points—as you walk. Supportive of one another. Self-deprecating to a fault. Busy as can be . . .

You stand on the fringe of the film crew as Jimin readies himself for his solo. He does a few vocal exercises and stretches, and even takes a few moments to do some deep breathing. After a few minutes, he says: "I'm ready."

You, however, are not ready for what he's about to do.

There's no dancing this time. His job is pretty much just to walk across the viewing platform, lean against the railing a bit, and sing his part of the bridge. It's a beautiful scene, but next to what you witnessed earlier, it seems underwhelming—at first.

But then he opens his mouth.

It's your first time hearing him sing—and you are again at a loss for words. You can't imagine a sound clearer, a voice more beautiful. It's a voice with the power to caress you gently, to bring you to tears, to take you to places unexplored. The pure emotion he puts into it is unparalleled.

If I could capture this feeling in my writing, you think, I would be the most renowned screenwriter in the world.

It takes him about an hour to get it "just right," but every single take sounds like perfection to you. When he's finally finished, he downs a bottle of water and uses a towel to dry the beads of sweat forming along his hairline and collarbone. He's exhausted; clearly, he's not used to the heat. His face goes white, and he looks like he might pass out.

But you catch his eye, and he summons up enough strength to climb down the stairs to talk to you.

"Jimin, that . . ." you stumble over yourself, averting his gaze. "There are no words."

"There had better be. Your dream depends upon it, remember?"

"There's no way I can capture what you just did."

He glances down at the ground, kicking a pebble, hands in his pockets. His smile makes another appearance, the color returning to his face.

"Jimin," you start. He looks up. "Earlier, outside your trailer, you started to say something. Something about wishing . . ."

Suddenly, panic fills his eyes. "Look at the time, Y/N!"

You notice he's not wearing a watch.

He starts leading you down the path back to the main setup. "You must be getting hungry. I'll have the car take you back home. You've been up here all day—you've probably sunburned. Later, I can show you some skincare products that I swear by. J-Hope and Yoongi and I love to do face masks together. It's great bonding time, you know?" By the time you reach the road, the limo is there waiting. "Text me and let me know you got home safe. I hope you learned a lot today—you're going to be a great screenwriter someday."

He stuffs you into the limo, closes the door, and walks off.

During your descent back into LA, you feel deflated and disappointed. What the crap was that? He'd almost kissed me earlier . . . what changed since then?

Besides Jimin's enigmatic goodbye, the only words that run through your mind on the trip home are those Tae had said to you:

He gets chatty when he's nervous.

#bts #bangtan sonyeondan #bts fanfic #bts fic #bts fanfiction #park jimin #park jimin x reader #park jimin fanfiction #jimin #bts jimin #jimin x reader #jimin fanfiction #jimin fanfic #park jimin fanfic #jimin fic #inspired by La La Land #La La(chimolala) Land

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kelyon · 5 years ago

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Golden Cuffs 50: The Bed

Cover by @paradigmparadoxical

Rumbelle Dark Castle BDSM AU

The Happy Beginning

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Belle’s mouth fell open at the question Rumpelstiltskin had just asked her. Marry him? They had only just agreed that she would stay! He had only just given her the dagger that would control him and all his magic. And now he was on his knees, like a knight before his lady, holding up a ring that had once been one of the cuffs that had bound her to him. He was asking her to be his wife!

“Marry?” Belle repeated the word, a little dumbfounded. What would it be to marry him? What did marriage mean to Rumpelstiltskin?

Marriage had always been an inevitability to Belle. She had grown up knowing that her father would choose a husband for her, someone respectable and prosperous, who would bring power or wealth or influence to her family. Her engagement to Gaston had been done like that. After they were introduced, they prepared to marry, with very little by way of a courtship. Gaston had been a stranger to her, but she had known that for the rest of her life she would bear his children and manage his household and do his bidding.

She had never believed that she would have any real choice in the matter of if she married or to who. She had never imagined that she would marry a man she already knew and loved. She had never thought her husband would declare them equals and even diminish his own power because of his love for her.

This was all so strange and sudden. What would Rumpelstiltskin want from her as a wife? What would it mean to him to be a husband?

Belle took a breath, and began again. “How--how is marriage different from what we already were planning to be? W-we will be together, and we will love each other. Why do you want us to marry?”

To Belle’s relief, Rumpelstiltskin didn’t take her confusion as a rejection. From all his deals as the Dark One, he must have known the wisdom in collecting information before you make a life-changing decision. Still on his knees, he laid the rings out on his open palm for her to see.

“When I made the cuffs,” he began, “you wore both of them. They were a symbol of your servitude to me. Since you have assumed ownership of the dagger, I have become your servant--and no matter what else happens, that will not change.”

He looked up at her. His face was so soft, so open as he offered her his subjugation. Then he looked down. He began to play with the rings, rubbing them between his fingers, letting them crown the tops of his black nails.

“My first wife didn’t have a ring,” he said. “I was too poor to offer her even silver, let alone gold. And I had no heirlooms, no connection to a family that could pass anything down for me to give the woman I loved. But that’s just as well, because the woman I loved… did not love me.” He took a heavy breath, as though exhausted by the memories. “But I am rich now, and powerful. And you will share in my power and wealth for as long as I have either.”

Belle put her hands on his bowed shoulders. “You are loved now, too,” she said. “And that means more for happiness than wealth or power.”

The look he gave her was wary, but hopeful. Belle read it was the look of a man who had been without wealth or power for long enough to know how essential both could be for survival, let alone happiness.

When Rumple spoke again, it was less like he was making a proposition, and more like he was sharing some secret dream, some long-hidden fantasy that he wanted Belle to be a part of.

“If we marry, we could belong to each other. I could give you a ring and you could give me one. We could wear them as a sign not of bondage, but of a bond. Each of us would be shackled to the other by chains we could break at any time, but would mutually promise not to.”

His brow furrowed as he looked up at her. “Does that make sense? A marriage between us would not be a deal like we had before--or like any other deal I’ve ever made. It would be a vow we would make to each other. Every part of it would be equal between us. And every day we wore these rings we would declare that vow to ourselves and to the world. Every day we would say--”

“I am yours as you are mine,” Belle finished. “That’s what Jefferson and Leona said, when they explained why they both wear collars.”

Rumpelstiltskin nodded, smiling at her understanding. “They are an extraordinary couple,” he said. “I wanted you to go with them, when I couldn’t let you be with me.”

Belle reached down and held his chin in her hand. “I know, Rumple. I read your letter to them. That was what made me want to come back. I saw that you still cared for me.”

His eyes were wide and full of love. “I will do everything I can to be as good to you as Jefferson is to his wife. I will adore you, and listen to you, and give you every comfort I can provide.”

She rubbed his jawline with her thumb, back and forth. “And I will be to you like Leona is to her husband. I will admire you, and support you, and give you something to come home to.” She bent down and kissed him softly on the lips. “I will marry you, Rumpelstiltskin. I will be yours as you are mine.”

Rumple’s eyes fluttered open. He drank in Belle’s face, as though for a moment he didn’t believe his ears. Slowly, his face lit up with a joy Belle had never seen in him. Then he pulled her up to stand with him, in the dungeon where it had all begun. Kissing her fiercely, he lifted her off her feet and spun her around and around. Both of them laughed and clung to each other as wine-red smoke enveloped them.

When the smoke cleared and the laughter subsided, Rumpelstiltskin and Belle were on the landing off the dining room, between the twin bedrooms and the steps to the tower. They didn’t pull away from their embrace, but gazed into each other’s eyes. Even when their mouths separated, their foreheads touched, and their noses brushed against each other.

Belle spoke first, giggling a little. “We should put on our rings.”

Rumpelstiltskin broke away from her just far enough to open his palm again. “Yes, sweetheart,” he whispered. “Yes--my love.”

Crying and laughing, Belle held out her hand so that Rumple could slide her ring onto her third finger. “I never thought this would happen,” she wept. “I never thought that anyone would ever call me their love.”

His head bent, Rumpelstiltskin squeezed Belle’s hand and kissed her finger where the ring was. “Oh Belle,” he murmured. “I’m so sorry I never told you before.”

“You can tell me now,” she whispered.

“I love you.” He kissed her hand and worked his way up her arm every time he repeated the phrase. “I love you, I love you, I love you.”

“And I love you!” Belle wrapped her arms around his neck and peppered kisses around his face.

“Would you--” Licking his lips, Rumpelstiltskin held out the other ring in his palm. “Oh, Belle, would you claim me?”

“Yes, of course!” With a breathless cry, Belle took the ring and held it between her fingers. It was such a small thing, this band of gold that had once been straw. It was unadorned with jewels, and yet it was infinitely precious. Being in the shape of a circle, the ring had no ending, just like the love that she shared with her Rumple.

His hand was steady as she took it in her own. She rubbed his fingers for a moment, admiring the flecks of gold in his gray-green skin. The ring would compliment those shining flecks. It would bring out the light in him.

Belle slid the golden circle over his sharp fingernails, over his inhuman skin, over the knuckles on his third finger. It fit perfectly, just as hers did. When the ring was in place, she brought his hand to her mouth and kissed his fingers over the gold, just as he had done with her.

“We’ve pledged our love and exchanged rings,” Belle remarked. “What else must we do to be married?”

Rumple placed his hand on her hair. His eyes still glowed warm and loving. “You deserve a proper wedding, my love. If nothing else, witnesses will make this a public promise. We should have friends present. Do you want to tell your family?”

She shook her head. “My family would not celebrate me being wedded to you, Rumple.” It hurt her to say it, but she knew it was the truth. “But that is their problem, not ours. We know who our friends are. We know who will celebrate our love.”

Nodding, Rumpelstiltskin smiled. “I’ll see how quickly Jefferson and Leona can be summoned.”

“My mother always wanted me to marry in spring, when the roses bloomed.”

If Mama was alive, perhaps that would have made a difference. Perhaps she would have been happy to see Belle happy, and not minded that her husband was the fearsome Dark One, a monster that Belle loved with all her heart.

He held her close and kissed her forehead. “You will have roses, sweetheart. You will have a celebration. You will have every beautiful thing you’ve ever wanted.”

Belle rubbed her face into the warm skin of her beloved’s chest. She had everything she’d ever wanted. She pressed herself closer into him, and she was suddenly aware of his body, of the heat that radiated from him--and also from herself.

“Rumple,” she said softly. “Since we’re going to be married, do we need to start caring about propriety?”

He stepped back, his hands still on her cloaked shoulders. “What do you mean, my dear?”

“I mean--since we’re going to have a wedding, that means we’re going to have a wedding night.”

His face remained calm, but his fingers pressed against her flesh. “If you want to.”

“Of course I want to!” She laughed, strangely nervous to bring up the subject that had once been the whole of their interactions. “I want you, Rumple. And I would rather not wait until we are husband and wife to act as a man and a woman. If you catch my meaning.”

Rumpelstiltskin swallowed. He lowered his hands to her arms and then to her hands. He stepped away from her, but kept one pair of their hands joined as he led her to one of the doors on the landing. The door to the luxurious room.

He cleared his throat. “This is the best bedroom in the castle,” he announced. “It was designed to be the lord’s chamber, the room for the most powerful person in residence.”

The door to the bedroom opened on its own, but Rumpelstiltskin did not enter. Instead, he bowed at the waist and extended his arm out and waited for Belle to cross the threshold on her own.

Hours ago, she had explored this room while she had searched for Rumpelstiltskin. One of the candelabrum was still in the dungeons, and its mate stood a lonely sentinel on a side table; they would be reunited soon. All the candles were lit now, a soft golden glow that brought out the luster in the blue silks and velvets that decorated the room.

Belle’s eyes traveled over the high ceilings and the plush carpets and the wide windows that would let in light once the curtains were pulled back. Her gaze landed on Rumple, who was standing in the doorway. He rubbed the fingers of his other hand over his ring in a variation of his usual nervous gesture. He still looked at her like she might be an illusion, that she might disappear at any moment.

“So is this my newest bedroom?” she asked with a warm smile.

Rumpelstiltskin gulped. “Actually, I--I thought it might be our bedroom. If you want to, that is. If that notion… appeals.”

“The notion of sleeping with my husband beside me?” It was hard not to laugh at his earnest reluctance. He was so timid, now that he wasn’t behind a mask! Belle would have to be bold. She sauntered over to him, put her arms around his stiff shoulders. “In that bed over there?”

The bed was bigger than the cell they had just left. The four posts of it seemed to be made of entire trees, polished smoothly until the wood gleamed. The blankets and bed curtains were royal blue with a design of golden swirls--exactly the same, Belle realized, as her old robe had been.

Taking Rumple by the hand, she led him over to the bed and sat him down on the mattress. It sank under his weight. It was probably made of goose down or something even finer. She stood between his legs and he stared up at her while she ran her fingers through his hair.

“Perhaps we won’t just sleep in this bed,” she said coyly. “Perhaps we will lie together while we’re still awake.” She dropped her voice into a theatrical whisper. “Perhaps we might even have carnal relations!” She made a face--a pantomime of shock, and Rumpelstiltskin smiled faintly.

“You’re teasing me,” he murmured.

“A little,” Belle admitted. “But you were annoying me with all that talk of ‘if I want to.’ I want to, Rumpelstiltskin! I understand your concern, but I wouldn’t be here if I didn’t want to spend as much time naked with you as I do clothed.”

He exhaled heavily, closing his eyes.

“I want to fuck you,” Belle said, just for the pleasure of seeing his eyes open in shock. “Often. And creatively.”

He swallowed, and the ball of his throat bobbed up and down. “I am at your disposal, my love. Whenever you wish to take your clothes off, I will be happy to assist.”

Belle grinned wickedly. “Right now. You can choose if it’s with or without magic.”

Rumpelstiltskin grabbed Belle by the waist and she felt his fingers on her bare skin. Her clothes were gone. He had chosen magic. She let out a whoop of shock and joy as he picked her up and pulled her on top of him on the bed.

They kissed and touched and it felt like years since the last time she had felt him under her hands. She pulled away his ripped shirt to reveal his smooth, warm skin. She felt his pulse against her lips and the shuddering breaths in his chest.

“Oh Rumple,” she sighed. “I love your body.”

He stifled a laugh, but didn’t contradict her. “Thank you, my sweet. But between the two of us, you are by far the beauty.” He was on top of her now, still wearing his trousers. He sat up on his knees to sweep his gaze over her chest and face.

“It’s a good thing I don’t want beauty then.” She reached up to span her hands out on his chest. Her thumb brushed against one of his nipples and she felt the tremor of pleasure go through him. “I just want you, Rumpelstiltskin. I want everything that you are.”

He leaned forward, close enough to kiss her. “Even the ugliness? Even the darkness?”

“Oh, especially those, Rumple. Your ugliness and darkness are the parts of you that need love the most.”

He kissed her then, furious and desperate. She kissed him back, moaning and squirming at his frenzied touch.

He sat up suddenly. “Your potion!” He scrambled off of her and made for the door. “I need to go--”

“Stop!” Belle ordered. She pulled herself up on the bed, resting her weight on her elbows. He couldn’t leave now, not in the middle of their reunion!

But he didn’t.

Rumplestiltskin had stopped, mid-step. His foot still hung in the air. It took Belle a moment to realize that her beloved was frozen in place. Clearly he hadn’t chosen to stop like that, so why had he? What kept him in such an awkward position?

After moment of stunned silence, Belle became aware of the faintest tingle of magic surrounding her. If she focused her senses and concentrated her mind, she could almost determine the shape of it. She knew it was around herself, and she could also sense it around Rumpelstiltskin. Faintest of all, she could feel thin threads of magic connecting them. It was intangible, but there was no doubting that it was real.

“What is this?” she whispered.

“The dagger,” Rumpelstiltskin breathed. His voice was so soft, he almost sounded aroused. He still hadn’t moved, not since she had said the word stop. “This is the power that you have over me.”

“I can order you to do anything.” Belle’s words matched her understanding. Rumple had told her all this, but it was so odd to see it happening. “And you must obey me.”

His eyes were closed, but he didn’t seem distressed. “Yes.”

“Can I order you to come back to bed?”

He looked at her slyly and grinned. “Try it, sweetheart.”

Belle licked her lips. How did this work? Were there magic words she needed? Did the spell require a certain forcefulness of will? How did one act when one controlled the most powerful magic-user in the world?

“Rumpelstiltskin,” she ordered with dignity, “come and lie on this bed with me.”

The spell that had frozen him suddenly seemed to force him to move. Magic pulled him toward her, though magic could not have made him look so eager to do it.

She could feel the magic more easily now. It grew stronger when they were closer together. He leapt to join her on the coverlet and she felt the bond connecting them. When she pulled him into her embrace, the magic enveloped them both. It made her feel like they were one person.

“Are you alright?” she murmured as she held him to her chest. “Did that hurt you?”

He shook his head, he was smiling. “I’ve never done that before,” he admitted. He looked up at her, eyes wide and full of wonder. “I’ve lived for hundreds of years, knowing that anyone who held the dagger could control me. That is the ultimate price for all my power--that it can all be taken away or used against my will. I lived in fear of it, of anyone finding the dagger, or knowing all the terrible truths about me. But I never imagined that it would feel… like that.”

Belle rubbed his back and kissed his forehead. She had an idea of what he meant, but she wanted to hear it in his words. “Like what, Rumple? How did it feel?”

“Good.” He nuzzled into her neck. “I was doing what you wanted, Belle. And I knew you wanted what was best for both of us. You were helping me be good.” His hands reached up to her back and he clung to her. “When you gave me an order, you were telling me how to please you. And I want nothing more than to please you, Belle. Nothing more than that.”

Belle held him tighter, her love, her betrothed, her beautiful, desperate man. “And you were good, my Rumple.” She knew what words he needed to hear, the same sort of words she had heard from him so often. “You were so obedient, so quick to listen to me.” She kissed him again, said the words she had used to want to hear him say more than anything: “I love you so much.”

He shook in her arms, huddling in her embrace. How long had it been since someone had praised him? How long had it been since he had felt weak? Had he ever, in his long life, felt safe in the midst of his weakness?

“I love you, Belle.”

She kissed his temple, stroked his hair, soothed him in every way she could. “You’re safe with me, Rumple. I will never hurt you.”

Slowly, his breathing deepened and his body relaxed. Belle loosened her grip on him and he stretched out. The bed was big enough that they could both have both extended their arms and legs to their full length and never touched the edges of the bed or each other. For now, Rumple kept one arm around her shoulders as they lay side by side.

“So,” Belle said thoughtfully, “I don’t need to have the dagger with me for it to work.”

Rumpelstiltskin rubbed his face. He was coming back to himself. “Apparently not. I always thought someone would have to hold it aloft and call my name for it to have any effect. Perhaps it’s because I gave it to you of my own will. Or perhaps it is because of the rings and everything that they already mean.” He shook his head. “That is a magic I’ve never been inclined to experiment with.”

“No, you wouldn’t be.” Belle rested her head on his bare chest. She imagined her sweet Rumple living in fear of being controlled by another, unwilling to test the parameters of his limitations, afraid to even know his own weaknesses. It would be awful for a man who knew so much to have a topic he was afraid to research.

“But perhaps we can play with it together.” His fingers brushed against her upper arms. His touch was featherlight, but deliberate. He liked the idea of being helpless for her. Belle felt a shiver go up her spine. It seemed she liked the idea as well.

“I would still like to play games with you.”

Now it was his turn to shiver. “I am yours, my lady.”

Belle squeezed his hand and sat up to look him in the eye. “But don’t forget that I’m yours, too. We can play some of our old games. If you want to.” As much as Belle looked forward to helping her beloved face his fears while she was in control, she was ready to allow Rumple to control her again as well.

Rumpelstiltskin swallowed. “I--perhaps. We can discuss the particulars as they come. But either way, I need to make your potion before we--before we do anything of that sort.”

She took that moment to kiss him, long and deep on the lips. “You don’t have to, as far as I’m concerned. I would be happy to have a child with you, Rumpelstiltskin.”

He stiffened at that, and sat up suddenly. “That,” he almost choked on the word, “is a matter for several discussions. Lengthy discussions. Please.” His face twitched as he tried to hide his obvious panic.

Belle just smiled and put her hand to his cheek. “All right,” she conceded. “Not tonight, at least.”

Rumple smiled back, and oh it was such a delight to see him sheepish! “Please,” he repeated. “You don’t even know if you’ll like being married to me. Let’s wait a while yet.”

“How long?”

He exhaled a strange chuckle. “What if I told you twenty-eight years?”

Belle didn’t blanch at the figure, but her brow did furrow. “That’s… a long time. And a very specific number. Why not just say thirty years?”

Holding her hand, he rubbed his thumb over her ring. “Because the curse will not begin to break until the Savior’s twenty-eighth birthday.”

“Which curse is this, Rumple?” And who was the Savior he spoke of? Was this part of his plan to destroy Regina?

He kept his head bowed over her hand, then gently kissed the finger that held her ring. “It is the curse to end all curses,” he answered. “It is the curse that will destroy this world and bring us all careening into the Land Without Magic.”

“Oh, where your son is!” Belle squeezed his hand in her excitement.

He looked at her now, his eyes sad and hopeful. “Yes,” he said softly. He seemed amazed that she would remember.

“When you find him, you will let me meet him, won’t you?” Rumple looked up at her, unblinking, and Belle began to feel a little sheepish herself. “I--I want to know your son. I’d like for us to be a family together.”

“Yes,” he breathed. His face was still. He looked up at her in wonder. “Yes, Belle. I’d like that too. I want you to meet my son, to be family to him.” He laid his hand on the flat of her belly. “And when we find him, I would like Baelfire to know his brothers and sisters.”

Their eyes locked on each other in a moment of joyful hope. “But not until the curse breaks?”

“Please,” he insisted. “You must understand, Regina will rule over this new world. We can’t--”

“No,” Belle agreed. She leaned to kiss her future husband on the lips. “No, I don’t want to have a baby while that woman has any power at all.”

Rumple kissed her back, he drew her into his arms. ��After the Savior is born,” he said. “After the curse is cast. After twenty-eight years in a prison, and after the curse is broken. Then, then we will be free to begin our happy ending.”

“Oh, Rumple,” she murmured as she wrapped her legs around his body. He was still wearing trousers, and that wouldn’t do at all. “Don’t you think we can be happy together now?”

He ran his fingers through her hair. “We do have some time, while Regina tries and fails to win a victory in this world. And the Savior’s parents only met a few months ago. We may have time for a little happiness. What would make you happy, my love?”

Belle leaned against his chest. The feeling of his skin against hers connected them. “We could experiment with the dagger a little more.”

He stiffened at that, but Belle knew it wasn’t out of fear. “What would you have me do for you, my love?”

“Tell me how long it will be until sunrise.”

It was a simple command, one she hoped would be easy for him. Rumple breathed a sigh before he answered. “About half an hour.”

“I stayed up all night looking for you.”

“I never thought you would want to find me. Are you tired?”

Belle embraced Rumpelstiltskin with all her might. “Not too tired to be with you. And yes, I wanted to find you. Even if I just want to argue with you and shout at you, I will always want to find you.”

He squeezed her back. “Those sound like true words of love.”

“They are. Rumple, will you open the curtains?”

“See, now that was a request. Not an order.”

“I know.” After all, she had learned the difference from him. “Must I order you to do the things I ask for?”

He kissed her temple. “Not at all, my love.” With a flick of his wrist, all the draperies opened to reveal the fading starlight and the darkness that always seemed like the worst part of the night--but was actually closest to dawn. She hoped the night had been warm enough for Philippe.

Belle sat up suddenly. “Oh gods, Philippe!”

Rumple held her gently by the waist. “Who?”

“My horse,” she explained. “I bought a horse, by the way. I left him in the courtyard. I’ve never found stables in the castle. Do we have a place to put him?”

“We do now,” he said with just a touch of amusement in his voice. His fingers twitched against her hip and she knew that he had done some magic. “He will find his way to a clean barn and a hearty breakfast of oats. See, my dear? Sometimes you don’t even have to ask.”

Belle smiled at him in the candlelight. “There’s one more thing I want from you right now, and I think I am going to order you for it.”

Rumpelstiltskin swallowed, but his face was placid. “I hear and obey, my Belle.”

She licked her lips before she issued the order: “Take off your trousers for me, please.”

A shudder went through him and the rest of his clothes disappeared in a swirl of magic. Belle lay down on top of him, both of them finally naked together.

“Remember, we can’t do anything that might result in a child,” he said in a strained voice. “As much as I would love to bury myself inside your beautiful body.”

Belle felt her insides clench at his words. It had been so long since she had made love with Rumpelstiltskin. Groping around in the shadows, she found the hot, hard, length of his cock. And, oh, she did want to have him deep inside her. She wanted to have him take her and fill her and claim her body for his use. It would be so simple, so right, for her to be his again.

But she was not just his. He was hers as well.

As she gripped his shaft, she felt him tremble beneath her. But when her other hand drifted down to his knee, he gasped and jerked in a way that was not pleasure. His breath came in labored pants. He shook his head back and forth in a frenzy. What kind of torment was he in?

“Are you all right, Rumple?”

Eyes closed, his hands clawed at the blue coverlet beneath them. He twisted the velvet and his lips moved in silence for several moments before he spoke.

“Please!” He forced the word out of his mouth.

Belle took his frantic hands into her own, trying to calm him. “Anything, my love. Anything! But what’s wrong?”

“I--I don’t want to tell you. But you must know! You must, before you give me any pleasure. You must know what kind of man I was.”

She gripped his hands until her knuckles turned white. “What in the world are you talking about?”

“W--” he panted, as the battle raged inside him. “W-will you order me to show you my ankle?”

His ankle? For as long as she had known about Rumpelstiltskin’s reluctance to be naked, she had always assumed that it was only his unwillingness to be known. Belle had never thought that there was any one specific part of him that he hid from the world, that he had kept even from her.

But as she thought of it, she realized that she had never seen both of Rumple’s feet. He had always kept one hidden, on those rare times when she saw him without boots. What did he think he needed to conceal? What did it hurt him so much to show? And what was so important to him that he wanted her to order him to reveal it?

“Rumpelstiltskin.” She tried to sound calm. She tried to make her voice warm, but powerful. “Show me what you don’t want me to see.”

With a strangled cry, Rumple jerked his leg out from under her. At the same time, all the candles in this vast bedroom blazed with ten times their natural brightness. There was no darkness in the room now, no kind shadows to blunt the surprise of what Belle had to know.

His ankle--his whole foot really--was a mass of silver-green scars. Had it been crushed? His foot was twisted, the bones visibly out of place. Belle inhaled sharply at the sight, but kept her hands on him. The injury looked as though it had been broken and then set badly--or not at all. Perhaps he had been given no doctor’s care. How old was this wound? How long had he been suffering? How was it possible that he could even walk, let alone dance his spritely way around a room?

“Oh Rumple.” Belle felt tears spring into her eyes.

“I’m sorry,” he whispered, still shaking. “I should have told you before you agreed to marry me. But you can back out, my Belle. I will not hold you to--”

She cut him off by pulling him into her arms and kissing him deeply on the mouth. He was stiff for a moment, but then clung to her again. He was weeping.

“I’m not going to leave,” Belle said firmly. “You belong to me now, and I will keep you, Rumpelstiltskin.” Still holding him in one arm, she reached down to rest her hand on his mangled ankle. “Every part of you is mine.”

He just sobbed and shook his head. “I’m broken. I always have been.”

Belle placed a kiss on his head. “Not broken,” she told him. “Just chipped.”

“I did it to myself,” he sniffed. “During the first Ogre War. I thought that I would die if I fought in the battle. I didn’t want to leave my son fatherless.”

She pulled him closer, let him put his head into the crook of her neck and cry. It had been over a year since ogres had left Belle motherless. She remembered the smoke and terror of that night. She remembered the battles that had followed and all the soldiers who had come back ripped in half--or who hadn’t come back at all. She huddled closer to the man she loved, grateful that he had escaped that fate, no matter how horrible the means.

“I’m a coward,” he whispered. “I have been a coward all my life. And everyone I’ve ever loved has hated me for it.”

“I will never hate you,” Belle assured him. “I will stay with you and love you for as long as I live.”

Rumple sniffed back a chuckle, and Belle knew that he doubted her. Of course a man who had lived so long and suffered so much would not believe the words of a young woman in love, no matter how heartfelt they were. He played with words too well himself to give them much credit from other people. Belle would have to give him actions before he took her to heart.

Without preamble, she slid her body away from him. “Lie down,” she ordered. “Flat on your back like you were.”

In the glaring light, she could see the confusion on his face. But he still obeyed, and that was good. Puzzlement didn’t trouble Belle. She was going to show him how to trust her.

“Rumpelstiltskin, douse the candles.” Belle gave the order in a clear, strong voice. She wanted to communicate that she knew best, that she was in control, that she would give him what he needed, even if he couldn’t ask for it.

He obeyed and the bedroom was dark. It took a moment for her eyes to adjust to the near-blackness of the predawn. But Rumple, who could see in the dark, who was himself a creature of darkness, relaxed. His breathing became slower. His terrible secret was hidden again.

“Thank you,” he whispered.

“I love you,” Belle answered. “I’m going to pleasure you. I will do everything I can to make it easy for you to be weak.”

“Belle,” he murmured her name like a prayer. “Oh, Belle!”

Reaching in the darkness, Belle wrapped one hand around his cock. She placed the other on his chest. If she were stronger, the placement might have pinned him down. But this was only a suggestion, a hint of restraint. She would let him move if he needed to, but for now he had to trust that she would keep him safe.

His cock hardened in her hand.

“I will take care of you,” she said, as she slowly moved her hand up and down his length. “If you allow me to.”

“Yes!” Rumpelstiltskin gasped. “Yes, please Belle! But only--”

“Yes?”

“Please,” he breathed. “Please allow me to take care of you as well. Please allow me to pleasure you.”

“Of course, Rumple. When I’m done.”

Grinning, Belle leaned down to his face. She kissed his cheeks and chin and lips, her hand on his chest a subtle reminder that he was not to get up. He had given her power just now, and she was damn well going to use it.

She stroked him slowly as she held him down. He didn’t try to move. She spoke soft words of praise and love. He didn’t contradict her. As the sun rose in the east, as light poured into their bedroom through the windows, Rumpelstiltskin’s pleasure mounted. Belle loved the feeling of his hardness, loved his shallow breaths and hisses of pleasure. She had always loved getting her hands on the Dark One and his cock.

But what she really loved, what made this night different than any other night she had ever known, was the hand that she pressed against his chest. Without giving an order, Belle had gotten him to stay down through the whole event. He had submitted, willingly, to her desire, and she was happy to reward him for his obedience.

He stayed down on the bed even as he came. Belle watched his face as it happened, watched his relief as he gave his control to her. She watched his skin shimmer in the light of a new day. She watched the sunlight glow against her golden ring.

Later--because there would be a later, there would be time for everything. There would be a tomorrow and a next day and a next. Later, Rumpelstiltskin could have power again. He could control her, as she now controlled him. He could pleasure her, as she had pleasured him. All things were equal between them now. They would work together to understand what that meant and how they could both get the most out of such an arrangement.

They would figure it out.

#Golden cuffs #rumbelle #rumbelle fanfic #rumbelle fanfiction #ouat

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gnoodle-studios · 4 years ago

Text

The Grim; Chapter 4

“Agnes!” said Edith, with the enthusiasm of someone recently told they have to eat a slug. “How… pleasant to see you again.”

“Of course,” replied Agnes. “Haven’t seen you around much though, I must admit. You aren’t sequestering yourself in that house of yours, are you? I would be devastated to learn the loneliness of an empty home is catching up to you.”

“I so appreciate your concern for my health, my dear, but I assure you I am faring just fine! I have simply been spending quite a lot of time on my latest crochet project!”

Agnes narrowed her eyes, almost imperceptibly. “A crochet project? Of what kind?”

“Oh, haven’t you heard already? The milliner is having another child! I’ve been crafting a blanket, I’m sure it will be ready by the time they give birth. I had no idea you were so far out of the loop, dear Agnes, or I would have informed you myself!”

“Oh, it’s no trouble at all,” Agnes replied cooly. “It is so unfortunate you haven’t the time to keep up with old friends, but I suppose I haven’t put much effort in on my end. Perhaps I could bring over my recipe for raspberry scones one of these days! You never could get them quite right, from what I remember.”

Horse looked back and forth between the two women, feeling a bit scared. As he glanced back to Edith, He had to rescind one of his earliest discoveries about this place. While it was true that many things in this world were not Rock or Fire, it turned out that sometimes the Rock and Fire disguised itself. And now, it appeared they may have been disguising themselves as humans.

Which, in retrospect, explained why Horse had liked Edith so much. She was very much made of Fire, even if she didn’t look it. She was nice, and warm, and sort of soft, in a strange, intangible way. Fire never hurt Horse, and neither did Edith, but Fire always had a preference for hellhounds, and then went on to burn humans and wood and sometimes even demons indiscriminately. A part of the world clicked into place, and things made just a little more sense, in Horse’s book.

But the other, the one standing across from Edith and smiling sharply, was undeniably Rock. There were angles to her, her face and her joints, like the Rock was barely trying to hide itself underneath stretched skin and pointy grins.

Despite being thin, she seemed unmovable and steady, an element that told you exactly what it was and what it was going to do before it even did anything.

And so Rock and Fire faced off.

Fire is always unpredictable, and changes direction at the slightest move. Fire is hungry, and bright, and quick, and leaps on anything it can.

But Rock does not burn. It stands, unaffected, and attacks methodically, patiently, or sometimes unexpectedly, like a rockslide, burying the opponent. But Fire cannot be crushed in such a way.

So they are at an impasse, as attacks and blocks and retaliations are made over Horse’s head, as bloody and ruthless as any battle.

Rock and Fire walk away, and Horse has no idea who won.

----------------

The baker knew something was going to happen as soon as Agnes and Edith locked eyes across the street.

They had traded their barbed compliments and faked concern meant to harm instead of heal, and then had gone their separate ways, but she could tell Edith was still out for blood. As much as an old woman wearing a lace cardigan could be out for blood.

The baker shuddered, imagining the potential destruction.

Which is why, when Edith ran into Peter, she finished the sale she was making and put the ‘on break’ sign up, before leaning back against the counter to watch the ensuing annihilation.

Peter was not the brightest man in town. He had always been kind of an ass, even when they were all kids, and now he ran the general store, which gave him some kind of false idea of power. Knowing how to run a business, and a necessary one had gone straight to his head, and knocked out a good deal of the common sense while it was there.

Common sense, such as ‘don’t mess with Edith, or risk being burned’.

Peter had taken a good look at the grim- er- Horse, and started to walk purposefully across the square, before coming to a stop in front of Edith.

The brave (and stupid) stared, the ignorant continued on as though nothing was about to happen, and the smart watched, but in a way that made it clear they were absolutely not watching and indeed keeping their noses in their own business, thank you very much.

The baker, knowing which group she was a part of, carefully positioned herself in a convenient shadow near one side of the stall underneath the awning, where Edith’s back would be turned to her.

Normally, she wouldn’t have bothered (or risked) being an onlooker, but it had been a good while since she had seen Edith exchanging pleasantries with anyone, and Peter had recently raised the price of flour despite there being no good reason (he claimed ‘shipping prices’ had gone up but she had checked with the man who delivered goods to their town from the nearest port, who had said shipping was cheaper than ever), and she figured she should keep an eye on that dog of Edith’s and how it was going to react to a git like Peter. And who knows? Maybe she would learn something.

“Hello there Edith,” said Peter, walking somewhere between a saunter and a strut.

“Peter, so nice to see you again,” replied Edith, who looked and sounded very sincere about this statement, except for how much she didn’t.

“I see you picked up a mutt!” Peter laughed loudly and obnoxiously, throwing his head back.

Edith did not join him.

Peter, demonstrating all the intelligence of a brick wall, barreled on.

“My gods, woman, where did you find that thing? A gutter? I didn’t know the boogeyman was moving in next door, much less that he had a dog!”

In an amazing display of restraint, Edith neglected to throttle the man. Not that she could if she tried, though. Peter wasn’t a very large man, but he also had a bit of height and weight over Edith. Still, the baker found that retirees had quite a lot of time to sit and think, which could be a dangerous thing, especially where people as sharp as Edith, and surrounded by as many idiots as Edith, are concerned, and so she figured the old lady could probably have figured something out.

However, as it stood, Edith found a good deal of her weapons in words, and as she straightened up and cleared her throat, it was clear she was skipping past all of the pretty little daggers in front and some of the smaller swords, even the larger swords, perhaps a spear or two, and heading directly for the morningstar.

“I suppose it would be hard for you to keep track of new residents these days, what with how often I’ve seen you visiting the doctors.” Edith shook her head sadly. “Are you sick, dear? I’m sure many in the town would be happy to help you out.”

Peter flushed from his fingertips to the top of his ears.

To anyone outside the gossip chain in town, it would have sounded like a fairly innocuous statement, even like Edith was perhaps concerned about his general wellbeing. However, the baker had a friend who worked at the doctor’s office as a nurse, and had it on fairly good authority that the receptionist and Peter had been… sharing several intimate moments together, sometimes even while the receptionist was on duty. The baker wasn’t about to judge two adults entering a consensual relationship, even if the nature of the relationship may be considered a bit ‘scandalous’, but for the love of someone, do it on your own time, not on the clock! A house was a house, and a business was a business, and the actions of the two shouldn’t get mixed, in the baker’s firm opinion.

“What are you trying to imply?” asked Peter defensively.

He had never been good at playing the game.

The back and forth insults disguised as compliments and simple comments that people such as Edith and Agnes spent their time with, trading cutting remarks back and forth until both women were satisfied with their jabs, and sore with their losses.

Many of the townspeople stayed out of it, and the ones who did were heavily persuaded not to try it again (Edith and Agnes combining forces was a rare thing, but a thing to be feared. It was like two natural disasters turning to smite the same person).

Then, there were the people like Peter who didn’t realize there was a game being played in the first place, and so blundered into traps without even knowing there had been one set in the first place.

“Imply, my dear? What could I possibly have been implying? I was simply questioning if you were poorly.” She laughed easily. “It’s not like I said you were up to anything illicit.”

Peter looked like his skin was attempting to color-match a tomato.

For the first time, the baker noticed how uneasy Horse looked. She couldn’t blame him. Being in the middle of a battle of wits (even if this one wasn’t so much a battle as a destruction) happens to be very unnerving.

One of the first times the baker saw such a battle, it had been between Edith and one of her school teachers, the latter of which had dragged the baker into it for some reason or another.

The whole experience made her vow to stay as far away as those types of situations as possible, and it looked like Horse was considering doing the same.

In an un-earned and potentially life-saving act of mercy, Jerald, the blacksmith, stepped in.

“Hullo, hope I’m not interrupting anything, but I finished that collar you wanted.”

“Oh, really?” Edith asks, any trace of hostility disappearing immediately. “So soon?”

“Didn’t take too long. And I had a delay on one of my other projects.”

“Well, thank you very much.” Edith took the collar from Jerald and fastened it around Horse’s neck. Horse froze like it was going to bite him, and looked to Edith for help.

“You look very nice,” She told him, and patted his head. He settled a little, but still seemed apprehensive.

“Wellmustbegoingtalklater” Peter rushed out, turning quickly.

The baker watched as Peter all but tucked tail and ran. Edith looked around, smiling politely.

She shivered.

“PUPPY!”

From across the street, there was a loud yell from a tiny child who looked intent on pulling her mother’s arm off.

“Now, I’m not sure that’s such a good idea, Sarah,” the mother protested, trying to hold her child back.

The child threw her weight forward with renewed force and broke free of her mother’s grasp before running up to Edith and Horse.

“Can I pet your dog, miss?” She asked, bouncing up and down on the balls of her feet.

Edith gave her an approving smile. “Of course.”

Sarah, seemingly vibrating with excitement, started to scratch the dog’s ears and pet along his back. To her delight, her hand sunk into his fur until it almost disappeared.

Grims are apparently built for insulation, the baker noted absently.

“He’s so soft!” the child exclaimed. ”What’s his name?”

“Horse,” replied Edith, still smiling indulgently.

The child contemplated this for a long moment, taking on on an air of seriousness and sincerity that only children of that age can properly manage without looking uptight.

She nodded, just as seriously. “Horse is a good name.”

Edith produced a piece of candy from thin air, (or so it seemed to the baker) and offered it to the child, who took it and went bounding off back to her mother, who looked very tired, and a bit relieved.

“Goodbye Horse!” Sarah said, waving, before dragging her mother in a different direction.

-------------

The small human was different from what Horse had seen before. It was much… bouncier.

And louder.

And stickier.

Despite all of these things, it had given very good ear scratches, and Edith had seemed pleased with it, so Horse figured it wasn't so bad.

The ‘collar’ was new, and not very pleasant, but more pleasant than some of the factors that came with existing in the afterlife (most of which, such as the fire, had little to no effect on hellhounds, but there were still the rocks, which could be very sharp, and there were a lot of very large, very angry, and very loud things that were also not very nice), so Horse figured it was an okay trade-off.

With this particular train of thought, Horse discovered that without realizing it, he had made the decision to stay in the town.

On closer inspection, it made sense. Horse had a place that was Not-Rocks to sleep and live, and had found many good smells and things to eat, and an Old human who seemed very nice but also a little dangerous (like Fire!) and he came to the conclusion that this place was much better than the afterlife, and therefore he would be staying right where he was, thank you very much.

Horse nodded with the finality and followed Edith as she led the way through the streets.

The afterlife could always send someone else to collect the soul he had been after. They wouldn’t even notice he was gone!

------------------

The demon was starting to wonder if he could function without a head.

However, even if he could, he doubted it would help anything, as this seemed to be a very determined headache, and he suspected the lack of a head wouldn’t really even slow it down.

#the grim #gnoodle writes #writers on tumblr

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externally-buzzing · 6 years ago

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the flame in her heart (bumbleby short)

It was dark, past midnight at least. Everyone had fallen asleep by now, the battle with Cordovin and, soon after that, another battle with the Leviathan had left everyone rightfully exhausted. To top that off, they had had to bicker with the Atlas military as to why they didn't need to be sent straight to jail. They had stolen Atlas tech, and crossed the border without permission, after all. Eventually, the military got a call from Ironwood, and told the group that they would stay in the stolen aircraft overnight. Ironwood would see them in the morning.

They’d also desperately attempted to actually be let inside Atlas, but they were shut down immediately. It would cause wide panic among the people, according the the Ironwood’s word. And then they made eye contact with the Faunus of team RWBY, with eyes glaring daggers through her, words equally as sharp as they had said, “Especially since there’s a Faunus among those who tried to infiltrate our facility. They won’t feel safe with her in there.”

With that, they had slammed the door. There were complaints among the group, but Ruby had been quick to shut them down.

“This could have been a lot worse. Now, everyone rest up. Who knows what Ironwood has planned for us tomorrow.”

Blake had walked back into the aircraft. An unknown force was tugging her toward Yang, constantly. Right now was no exception. She gravitated toward the corner Yang resided in subconsciously. The blonde simply looked up at her and smiled, patting the spot next to her on the ground. A flame flickered inside Blake’s heart. It should have been impossible for Yang to smile at her the way she did. After everything she did.

That brought a memory to Blake’s mind, one back in their days in the academy.

“You’re not one to back down from a challenge, Blake.”

She had denied it at the time .But now, looking into the lavender eyes before her, she opted to another memory.

Yang holding her as she had sobbed, Yang muttering four words into her ear, and Yang being all she could breathe after that. Warm blood stained her hands. Blood that she thought she could never wash away, but before her was the sun, and the sun had told her she knew she’d stay this time around. That gave her hope that in time, the blood would fade away from her hands. It may be ever so slow, but Yang knew. Yang understood, as she always had.

‘And you’re not one who ever ceases to take my breath away, Yang. Take it away forever, and be everything I breathe at the same time,’ Blake felt a smile creep to her face, as she took the seat next to Yang. She sighed, pressing her head onto Yang’s shoulder. Yang made no motion to move Blake, only wrapping her free arm around her bare shoulders. With that, the flame flickered again.

It’s well past midnight, and everyone is asleep except for Blake. She’s shivering cold. Yang’s arm around her shoulder didn't account for much of the rest of her body. She’s distracting herself by playing with Yang’s hand that rests over her shoulder, when suddenly the fingers flex on their own, and a soft yawn rumbles beside her. Her eyes dart to the side, expecting to meet lilac eyes, but only really making out the silhouette of Yang.

“Hey,” Yang mumbles hoarsely, still quiet, and then the rest of her words are slurred, incomprehensible.

“Hm?”

“I said,” another yawn interrupted Yang, before she continued again, “Why are you awake?”

Blake sighed, “I just can’t, I guess.”

Yang sits herself more upright, mimicking Blake. She retracts her hand to stretch, but her warmth lingers there momentarily.

‘The tingle of her ever being there in the first place will remain forever,’ Blake thinks to herself.

Yang stands abruptly, the floorboards creaking loudly under her weight, and Blake’s genuinely surprised that no one as much as stirs in their sleeps. She blinks at the prosthetic when it’s outstretched towards her, and tilts her head.

“Let’s go on a walk, then,” Yang whispers, voice more smooth than it was when she had first awaken. Blake suddenly forgot about the absence of her coat, and took Yang’s prosthetic into her hand. Yang leads her out of the room quietly, which Blake wants to laugh at. She had jumped up and made a ruckus, but now she cared if she would wake anyone up. Her free hand covered her mouth, careful not to let any giggles spill out.

After seemingly an eternity of dodging things and people on the floor, all while tip toeing, they made it to the doorway. Yang slid it open gently, and pulled Blake outside into the moonlight with her, just as quickly sliding the door shut.

Blake finally notices the cold nibbling at her skin again, harsher than before. She wraps her arms around herself in an attempt to warm herself up a bit. Blake finds herself disappointed that it doesn’t work.

Yang notices as well, already stripping her own jacket off. She hands it to Blake, who prays to God that the moonlight wasn’t enough light to reveal the light pink dusting her cheeks. She grabs it reluctantly, shooting Yang a look, one eyebrow raised, asking for clarification without asking. Yang simply nods, already starting to walk towards the forest.

Blake slips the jacket on, instantly nuzzles into the collar, and notes to herself, ‘Citrus scented, classic Yang,’ before she catches up to the retreating Yang.

“Thank you,” her words come out muffled from under the jacket, zipped all the way up. Yang laughed at it, and Blake closed her eyes, trying to memorize every bit of it, so she could lock the sound away forever.

“No problem, human space heater, remember?”

Maybe it’s sleep deprivation, maybe it’s the view of the shattered moon above them, or maybe it was just meant to happen. Blake's smile is hidden underneath the jacket, but you can still hear it in her voice when she says, “I love your laugh, it makes me feel safe. At home.”

Yang’s breath audibly hitches, then catches a second too late for Blake’s liking. She’s about to apologize, about to curl in on herself and hide away from the world, but Yang says something first.

“You’ve always been the one to make me feel safe, though,” she stops mid strife, turning around to face Blake, who nearly runs into her. She turns her head upward, and then lilac meets amber, and oh, the flame in her heart lights again, “Your eyes, your voice, your laugh, smile, your mere presence. It makes me feel safe, always has. I guess…” her voice trails off, and Blake knows what she’s going to say, but the suspension burns in her soul anyways, “That’s why I was so angry that you left. Not really with you, but because you had become home and then you were gone. And I was the one who let you ever become home.”

They had to talk about this someday, Blake reminded herself. But never had she expected it to be like this, here. After a battle against the demon of both of their pasts, after supporting Ruby in killing a Leviathan, after having to reside outside Atlas for who knows how much longer.

‘How did I imagine this going, then?’ She asks herself, and no answer comes. Right. She didn't have any expectations, she just knew it was up in the air. Yet it still slapped her in the face. Was she still the weak girl she was before, in Yang’s eyes? Did she believe her? Doubt was now shoving its way into her head, forming hot tears in her eyes.

“I’m-”

“Sorry, I know. I know, Blake. But you didn’t let me finish,” her prosthetic grabbed the small of Blake’s back, the other gently wiping her eyes, “Baby,” she paused, letting the word ring into the air, letting the fire in Blake’s heart breath in more oxygen, growing brighter and brighter, “I don’t regret any of it. I wouldn't take it back. In a heartbeat, I’d choose you over and over. I’d still want to live in any moment we share. That’s my promise. You made one to me, not to leave. My promise is that you’ll always be my home, and I’ll never regret it for a single moment.”

Blake’s unzipping the top of the jacket with haste, and then she’s pressing her lips on Yang’s. There’s no moment of hesitation in any of it. Yang kisses back, with such passion Blake has to loop her arms around Yang’s neck to stay standing. Or maybe it’s just because her knees fell to jelly the second Yang called her home. Blake is pinned against a nearby tree, both of them smiling wide, and then they just turned into giggling messes. It’s not even a kiss at that point, just laughing with their mouths pressed against one another.

‘This is perfect,’ Blake thinks, the flame in her heart flickering wildly. She knows Yang feels it too, because when they’re done laughing, and they’re just staring at each other with love stricken eyes, her smile is real. Genuine, and beautiful. The stars above complimenting the shattered moon are nothing compared to the view in front of her.

{basically i love them, and will most likely continue this into something a lot longer during the hiatus.}

#yang #rwby #yang xiao long #blake #blake belladonna #bmblb #bumblebee #bumbleby #team rwby #bees #writing #original writing #fanfic #fanficfion #short #bumbleby writing #bumbleby fic #🐝#ugh i love the bees

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shachaai · 6 years ago

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[Fic] A River to Cross and No Boat to Get Me There

Pairings/Characters: America /& f!England Rating: Teen Summary: Brussels, Belgium, July 2018. Over drinks, England and America (do not) talk politics. Really.

Notes: Written for @aph-fanficchallenges’ Shipping & Platonic Week 2019, Day 1: Old-Fashioned. It’s late. orz The way I write these two always feels like it straddles a line somewhere between platonic and strangely romantic/sexual, and I think you can choose to read this as either shippy or not - either way, there’s a kind of (resigned, exasperated) love there. Also on AO3.

July, 2018 A bar in Haren, City of Brussels, in the Kingdom of Belgium

The bar is all suits and badges, but, as long as a guy knows what he’s looking for, the woman sitting nursing her drink at the bar - smart, dark grey skirt suit, name and face on her badge hidden by being tucked away behind the lapel of her blazer - stands out from the other people in the room.

She’s the only Nation in the room.

Well, she’s the only Nation in the room until America sidles in, quite proud of himself for his tracking abilities in an urban landscape without the use of spy satellites. He takes himself to the bar beside his quarry and leans over its polished top to nab the bartender’s attention, body angled towards his colleague.

“An Old-Fashioned for me, sir, and -” he begins, and eyes up the drink in front of his companion: a tumbler about a third full of booze and ice, deep brown with shimmering tones of gold - someone is hitting the spirits early (earlier than him) -, “another one for the lady too, I think?”

The bartender gives him a look and America is just about to repeat his order, a bit more clearly this time, when England sighs beside him, looking up from her one-woman stare-off with her drink and repeats his request for him. In French. (America assumes it’s French. There’s a L’Old-Fashioned in there anyway, rolling off England’s tongue in the way it never does in front of France, and a rather pointed s'il vous plaît.)

The bartender nods and gets to it, leaving England to give America her trademarked suspicious look. She’s foregone pretty hairclips today so has to sweep back some of the side-fall of her sharp bob to glower at him effectively, and that sort of effort usually means business.

“This place isn’t your usual. Why are you following me?”

Blunt.

“Everyone else was busy,” says America, and tries a charming smile that hopes England won’t point out how unlikely it is that all of the Nations involved in NATO apart from England and America have found something else to do with their lunchtimes. There’s always at least one Nation at loose ends for another to pounce upon.

England’s frown deepens and her eyebrows arch for the sky, so America lets his smile drop. There’s no real point lying, though the waste of his acting talents does make him pout. (In another life, Hollywood would be just eating this up. Begging for his time.)

“Alright , I came seeking refuge in audacity?”

“I’m audacity?” England asks, sounding undecided on whether she should be offended by that or not, only to swing her legs round hastily when America goes to pull out the barstool beside her and stomp down an unladylike heel on the foot rest, preventing its movement. “Oh - no, no, no, no, no, Jones. I think you’re a blithering idiot at the moment as well.”

“Oh, come on. ” America protests, and gives the barstool another halfhearted yank. (Not a serious yank, because if he did that he might break England’s ankle, and England and the British and Washington all of the rest of NATO would eviscerate him about him with their tongues and Russia would be a smug asshole about it again, and God, England would never let him forget it if he broke her leg. Ever. ) “I’m buying you a drink!”

“Caveat emptor,” says England snippily, and doesn’t let up on the barstool. Whoever said the English were civil, gracious and polite? “I came here for some peace and quiet, for a change.”

“Yeah, well, I came to join the club.”

America had figured England had someplace to go when she’d pretended she’d not noticed the way France was deliberately ignoring her and swanned out of the NATO headquarters like she had better things to do. Without talking to any of her own people either. It usually meant England was taking herself directly to the nearest source of both dimness and decent alcohol so she could bitch-text whoever wasn’t at the latest conference with her about how much she hated everything.

A drink and getting away from everyone glaring daggers into his back or offering gentle ‘suggestions’ about his boss had sounded pretty great to America, so he’d followed her. There isn’t enough time allotted for lunch for England to get totally wasted (something the world and certainly America must be very grateful for), but some mild inebriation for the both of them would probably make the afternoon’s meetings a lot easier to get through.

America toes one of the barstool’s feet, letting the dull thud shake up through England’s heel. “We can’t be social pariahs together?”

England still looks suspicious. “Alone, together?”

“With alcohol,” says America, right as the bartender slides their drinks over to them. The guy might hate English, but he has pretty good timing, so America digs out one of what he thinks is one of the more high-value pieces of rainbow paper most of Europe calls money out of his wallet and tells him to keep the change.

England huffs at him, but she withdraws her heel so America can finally pull the barstool out to sit, distracting herself by fishing the maraschino cherry out of her Old-Fashioned to pop it between her lips. “I swear: if you try to talk shop with me right now, I’ll stab you somewhere unpleasant.”

“Didn’t know there was somewhere pleasant to stab a guy,” America comments as he finally takes a seat, holding up both hands in the universal gesture for whoa there when England grins a grin that looks entirely too mean for an elaboration to be anything America wants to hear about in public. “I’ll take your word for it; I don’t wanna know!”

“Where did your spirit of adventure disappear to?” England teases him, and finishes her first drink in one long swallow before reaching out to her new cocktail.

America picks up his own, gesturing in the vague but not explicit of England beside him as his fingers slide in the condensation on the glass, “There’s adventure, and there’s…”

“Where angels fear to tread?” America takes a swallow of his Old-Fashioned so he doesn’t have to answer, the bitters heavy on his tongue under the whiskey burn, and England snorts at him. Flicks back her hair again, but thankfully doesn’t reach out to pat his cheek. “It’s been a long time since you were a cherub, darling.”

America squints at her, because he might have to recalculate just how quickly England can get herself shitfaced when the mood strikes. (He really needs to clean his glasses.) “How many drinks have you had? ”

“Not enough,” sighs England, which is a feeling America can definitely empathise with. At least as long as England isn’t sliding sideways off her barstool. “I keep hoping the alcohol will drown out all their squabbling.”

“S’it working?”

“Like fuck is it.” England toasts him idly, takes a sip of her drink, and then grumbles, “And you don’t help.”

“Thanks,” says America with the same amount of cheer. Maybe he can drown himself in whiskey.

“I’ve my own shit to deal with without my people harping on about your shit,” England continues unnecessarily, because America, of course, could not have possibly heard any of this same spiel from any of the other Nations or their people gathered in Brussels that day already. “If your tit of a boss could just not do what he did in Canada and leave one thing unfucked for the rest of us, that’d be smashing.”

“That’s the plan,” America sighs - and then hurries on before England can harangue him further, “but what’s your strategy?”

The element of surprise works - for once - in his favour, and England is distracted. “Hm?”

“For winning over Europe,” America clarifies - and then pauses with his glass against his mouth, sweet cherry bobbing against his lower lip, realising something. “Is that why you’re wearing a new suit?”

He’d thought England’s skirt suit had been smart: it’s all crisp lines with a nipped waist, dark grey herringbone blazer against the stiff white collar of her blouse, but the straight skirt is definitely showing off a lot of her legs.

America has heard far too many people compliment England’s legs in front of him over the years, and he groans at the mental images. “It is, ain’t it?”

England has the decency to blush - or at least allow all the booze she’s imbibed so far to do it on her behalf. The colour bleeds down her throat, and America groans again into his Old-Fashioned, taking a large swig from his tumbler and tucking the cherry into his cheek. “I -”

“I don’t wanna know,” America gripes, and hopes the whiskey will burn his revelation out of his head. Europe.

Still pink, England coughs, and takes another sip from her own cocktail. For a few moments, they have quiet.

“...Probably for the best,” England admits quietly, eventually, and then shifts enough over on her stool so she can nudge her knee up against America’s. “Thanks for the drink.”

The 2018 NATO summit was held in Brussels, Belgium, July 11-12. It took place in the (new) NATO headquarters found there, in a complex in Haren (part of the City of Brussels municipality). I don’t know if there are any good bars nearby the complex, but you’d think there would be with all the demand there must be.

The 44th G7 summit was held in La Malbaie, Quebec, Canada, in June 2018 - obviously, before the NATO summit. It received a lot of attention internationally because of (as others have more tactfully put it) ‘a significant decline of relations of members with the United States’, and was dubbed G6+1 by France and parts of the media as a result. The US withdrew in what seemed like a huff from several important international agreements, and was widely condemned by international politicians, climate change scientists, trade policy experts, foreign policy experts… etc. The US President left the summit early in order to travel to Singapore for the USA’s first summit with North Korean leader Kim Jong-un, and was dubbed ‘the democratic world’s worst nightmare’ - all of which, of course, led to a rather fraught political atmosphere for all nations going to the NATO summit the following month.

...Do I really need to make a note about Brexit?

All the titles for this ‘verse come from poetry/literature created around the time the fic is set. This one is taken from a few lines from the poem Running, by Joy Harjo, which was published in July 2018 in The New Yorker: Now I have to find my way, when there’s a river to cross and no Boat to get me there, when there appears to be no home at all.

#s&pweek2019 #Shacha fic #usuk #nyotalia #fem!England #Arthur Kirkland #Alfred F. Jones #hetalia

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neo-nymph · 6 years ago

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Blood, Sweat & Tears: [Ch.2]

Word Count: 4,478

Member(s): Jungkook ft. Other Members

Themes: Mafia!AU, Hybrid!AU

Warnings: None

[Ch.1]

The silence occupying the space of the office was different now, biting at the body that filled the previously vacant seat resting in front of the desk Jungkook resided behind. The window has been closed as well, shutting out fanciful paradise and closing in the ever-thickening tension between the two men. This silence wasn’t the kind people found themselves in during a car ride when the conversation just happened to die down, or the kind of saddened, disappointed silence a parent gives their child when the get a bad call from school. This silence was deadly, questioning, wondering what kind of poison the devil must have given him for him to do such a senseless thing.

Such a seemingly senseless thing.

Taehyung was in his position for a reason and it was obvious to anyone who was granted even a singular brief encounter with him the amount of power and intelligence he possessed. He was an analyst of both sides, understanding and needing to be understood. Every move he made, the direction of his breath, the shoes he wore, the parties he attended was for its own purpose as a small part of a much larger picture. Even after knowing him for 5 years, Jungkook still wasn’t able to decipher the thoughts and complications that danced around his best friend’s mind. He and Taehyung liked it that way as it allowed him to do his job better than any being ever could. In times like these, however, it drove Jungkook insane.

The older man’s heart beat as normal, his pulse never bothering to speed up or slow down under the leaders staggering gaze. He had yet to even attempt to explain himself as he obviously saw no fault in his actions. His eyes remained forward, his lips pressed together in a thin line as he calmly waited for a word to be spoken, his hands folded in his lap as Jungkook’s stayed folded over his mouth, still throwing daggers with his eyes.

“Why.” It came out as more of a statement than a question, almost like a demand for an explanation.

“I found that she could be very useful to us.” He received no response as an indication for him to continue.

It was just like the hundreds of other parties Tae had made an appearance to within the past three months. The sun slowly dipping into the sea glistening behind the mansion gracefully caste a golden hue over the grand estate, complimenting the jewel ridden dresses and sparkling arm candy kindly. The fabrics flowed off the model-esque woman the way silk would flow off of a cloud, their skin appearing soft as can be, as if untouched by the tainted hands of mankind. They stood proudly as symbols the of wealth and status next to their husbands, bosses, and clients with their arms draped scripted around them. Taehyung saw these men often, sometimes at parties such as this, though most of their encounters happened only to Taehyung’s knowledge. He knew more about all of them than any of them would be comfortable with, and it showed in the way their shit-eating grins turned to scowls when they caught him passing by. Taehyung simply presented a grin, raising his glass of champagne in their direction.

Wedding dance played appropriately through the main hall, fitting for the occasion, the celebration of a marriage between an ally of Bangtan and his love. The walls were decorated elegantly with red, white, and gold décor, the marble floor glistening brightly against the white lights shining above the dozens of chandeliers. As some couples mingled around the ice sculptors, others held each other dearly and swayed around the dance floor. But Taehyung moved casually through those seated at the tables lining the dance floor, searching for his target. It was crowded, as most high-profile events such as this tended to be. The lawns both inferior and superior to the home were as littered with guests as the inside, everyone being on someone else’s radar. Luckily for Taehyung, hide-and-seek was game he loved to play.

As an attempt to blend in, the young man found his way up the stairs to the newly-weds, paying his respects and leaving a heads-up for the groom.

“Finally decided to join the gang of tied down bastards, huh, Jinyoung?”

At the sound of such a distinct voice the groom spun slowly on his heels with a bright smile adorning his face. The two men grinned at one another as they hugged, laughing mockingly at the glare on the bride’s face.

“Yah, it’s been a while since I’ve seen this face. How have you been my brother?”

A passive sigh left Tae’s lips, “As good as you can be when you have the world looking to put a bullet between your eyes... How’s the married life so far?”

Jinyoung looked to his wife with a sorrowful gleam in his eye, “I couldn’t ask for anything better. Maybe a smaller number of murders around her but,” he shrugged, “what can you do.”

At the mentioned of the adjective, Jinyoung thought it would be safe to ask why Taehyung was sent to pay the respects on behalf of his team. Alone.

Bangtan and 7G Pharmaceuticals have been close allies, friend even, for a few years now, so Jinyoung knew if any of the royals (the Mafia’s leaders) showed up alone, it wasn’t simply because they happened to be the only one available. Of course, Mr. Park was happy to see his friend after so many moons, but the blood-thirsty fox he knew his friend to be running around alone, un-noticeable and hard to track on his wedding day made him just a tiny bit nervous.

“Perhaps I already know the answer, but... you wouldn’t be planning on having any redrum tonight, would you.”

Taehyung took a sip from his glass, scanning the dance floor below from where he stood behind the railing of the mansions second level. “You know I’m always on duty.”

It wasn’t the answer his brother wanted to hear, but Tae wouldn’t lie to him, even if he knew it would spare him the stress. He half listened to Jinyoung’s small digression about the ever-growing cons of having mafia friends, and the inconvenience of having to spot check every inch of the house for blood stains after every get together. The rest of his attention was focused on the white head of hair moving to the back lawn. Target acquired.

He turned to his friend and placed the glass, containing only a few drops of liquid, into Jinyoung’s hands. “Don’t worry, I’ll make sure not to spill it anywhere your guests can see.” With a wink he was on his way, down the curving stair case, following the light mess of hair into a cellar below the estate.

“Spare me the petty details, just tell me where she came from before I kick you both out.” Jungkook interrupted his story with a highly unamused tone, rubbing his face out of frustration.

“Okay, okay, I’m getting there.”

He wasn’t in the cellar long, despite the considerable fight his target put forward. A few scratches lined his arms, easily hidden beneath the sleeves of his attire, though he would have to make his exit quick and quiet to keep the nick near his eye from being noticed. Avoiding a scene wouldn’t be so simply for the other man, however. By the time he would come back to his senses, though, a portion of the attendees would be gone. A small portion.

The temperature no longer felt as pain staking now, rather cooling as Taehyung walked softly down the trailing path to the likely rising moon, a few cascading drips of perspiration on his temple. He made certain no one followed him into the vacant space. It would be foolish for one to even attempt to play spy as the only hiding spaces present were the few protruding pillars of concrete standing 1 foot off the wall, spaced just about 10 feet from one another. The sound of someone walking against the slab would be much too hard to mask, especially when everyone here was wearing heels or dress shoes prone to reflect sound no matter how softly they walked. His senses told his he was wrong, trusting the empty air and lack of auditory perception. His gut, however, told him he was wrong.

The pulling instinct in his gut spun him around at the speed of light without any true reason other than being safe. The wind he created blew his hair across his vision and a gust past his ears, almost preventing him from catching the small hair sticking out from the shadow of a pillar a few feet in his trail. Stepping to the side to adjust his vision to the light, he further perceived the shape of a bunny like ear.

“Have you been following me?” He asked.

She stayed frozen as she could manage despite the pressure caused by being caught directly in his line of vision. You could see the gentle sway of her shirt caused by the banging of her heart against its cage if you looked closely enough, her limps and lips shaking obviously to even a damaged eye. She only followed him to find a way out of the stone walls, and then she would be on her way. Now, she felt more trapped by his gaze than she did by the locks on her ankles.

“I’ll lead you outside if that’s what you’re after... but you’ll have to come out first.”

It was a risky decision in her mind. She saw what happened to that man, still lying unconscious in a corner of an isolated room far behind the both of them. She knew if she came out, it would much too easy for him to take control of the situation, and she would be forced back to square one which she just nearly managed to step away from. But no matter what choice she made, this man was her best bet of finding her way out. So, against her better judgement, she allowed herself to be pulled gradually out of the light, moving her feet to the best of her ability given the restraints. Bunny ears and a tight ball of fur at the base of her spine isn’t what Taehyung expected to see, but he accepted it as a passable explanation for the sly of her actions.

Her ears, with a golden exterior and pure white inside, fell just above her shoulders, exposed by the rip in the collar of her shirt. A mess of strawberry pink curls was tied into a bun on the top of her small head that faced the ground as she stood before him. Even with the ridiculous height of the shoes strapped to her feet she barely stood far off of the ground, a natural and almost inevitable trait of her mutated genetics. Taehyung didn’t have to guess why she was down here. The surprise of seeing her so far from the sun with chains connecting her ankles wasn’t the cause of his plucked heart strings, the ones he had left at least, but rather the lack of years he found in her face. The surface of her skin was free of wrinkles and lines, and her face still blessed with the gift of young life’s glow. The mess of hair she carried was still full of life, the endless strands growing wild with no grey ends on sight. Maybe he wasn’t in the best position to judge the actions of others, but even he loss of chuck of his diminishing faith in humanity when he gazed upon her.

One foot left the ground slowly, followed cautiously by the other, step after step until the heat of his body mixed with hers. The gradual growth of his scent in their air filled her lungs and threw her mind off the track it was just barely running on, so much so that she could barely comprehend the sight of him crouching to the ground, or the questioned he posed.

“Do you know about the man I was with?” She looked at him dazed, but nodded her head.

“How much do you know?”

“...lots”

Jungkook sat dormant in his chair with an expectant look about his face, waiting still for a proper explanation. The hands folded before his lips dropped heavily against the wood as agitation began settling in the lines between his brows. “So, what?”

Tae defended his case by claiming she might be holding information their lead hadn’t be willing to provide despite their number of generous bribes and recently unkindly promises. Yes, it was an assumption, a “what if” hanging by a slither of hope that she’d even been present, or conscious enough, to hear anything of even minor importance, or that she’d somehow been in the presence of enough people and meetings to place the pieces of the puzzle together. When bits of the situation were picked apart, the chances of these circumstances being a reality seemed to falter further and further. It was already a risk bringing her here, and keeping her here with no use would only increase the risk of a tragedy hurling towards them. Jungkook wasn’t willing to make his empire susceptible to a major risk over something as minor as a bunny butting its nose where it didn’t belong. But, then again, an upper hand is foolish to be close-minded towards.

This lead of theirs had been on their radar on more than one occasion, for more than one reason. Though Taehyung hated the idea of such a comparison, Pham was a bit like him; well known for his obsession with playing hide and seek, always following, watching, listening for the skeletons you keep in the darkest corners of your closet. However, unlike Mr. Kim, Pham didn’t play for a team. He preferred single player, taking the benefits of his mischief, mayhem, and blackmail for himself. It may have allowed him to go after his own targets, do things his way and prosper the way he desired, but it also made him a target with no defense. Recently, though, Bangtan suspected Pham to have found refugee under the wing of a crow that wasn’t too fond of the success in their field.

“And what do you propose happens when she doesn’t produce.”

“She may be of use to us, still. Don’t you find it impressive that she could follow me for so long without those chains and deathtrap shoes giving her away? We could use a light foot like that in the field, especially one of such an unsuspecting, alluring , nature..”

By the purse of his lips and the gust of air fleeing his nostrils, Taehyung knew his case had been made. He understood the inner workings of his brother’s mind as if it were his own. Yes, Jungkook hated unnecessary risks, always airing on the side of logic and reason rather than resting his fate in the hands of the so called ‘faith’ incompetent humans foolishly decided to rest theirs in.

But, no, Jungkook would almost never turn down an upper hand.

#bts mafia au #bts mafia fic #bts mafia #mafia!bts #mafia!jungkook #bts hybrid au #bts hybrid

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g1ngersp1ce · 7 years ago

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Dance With Me, My Darling

Veronica x Reader

Reader is Archie’s twin sister, and gets insecure about whether she’s good enough for her love. A/N- Sorry if this isn’t great, it’s my first published fic! Let me know if you would like any more of this pairing or my writing in general <3

“Y/N/N! Ronnie and Betty are here!” My brother, Archie, called through my door. I could feel his nervousness through his uneven knocking, and I wasn’t feeling more confident. I stood at my mirror in my little bedroom, desperately smoothing the non-existent wrinkles in the skirt of my black, velvet, halter-neck dress. The cut was beautiful; the hem reached just longer than my mid-thigh, the skirt was made of floaty tulle that curved gently out from my waist, and the neck stretched to almost my collarbone. It was sleeveless, soft, and just my style, and paired with white flowers tucked into the wrap-around half-up braid in my ginger hair and the matching black velvet heels that Veronica had pointed out for me last week in town, I could actually admit that I looked beautiful, despite all my issues with my body in the past.

“Y/N/N, come on!” Archie’s voice sounded more on edge by the minute.

“Okay, just give me a sec!” My voice sounded just as tense as my twin brother’s did. As I checked my dress for any crinkles for the thousandth time, I heard my bedroom door slowly creak open. Archie could tell that I sounded nervous- we’d always been close, and we’d grown to feel each other’s pain like it was our own.

“Wow,” Archie’s voice was gentler as he closed my door, “You look… wow.”

“Shut up.” I smile, turning away from the mirror to see my brother dressed to the nines in a flawless black tuxedo with a matching bow tie, undone and splayed over his collar, “You look okay too, I guess. What happened with your tie?”

Archie made a face. “Ha, ha. Dad’s busy in the garage, so he wouldn’t tie it for me. Help me?”

I walked over to Archie and began to weave his tie into the correct shape. “So, you’re going with Betty, huh?”

“Yeah. Jug didn’t want to go, so I said I’d keep her company. You know Jughead; dances aren’t really his thing.”

It was true- it was no secret between the five of us that our best friend, Jughead Jones, would much rather sit in Pop’s with a milkshake and his laptop and brood than be seen at a school dance. He loves Betty so much, but Betty understands not to push him out of his comfort zone, as we all do.

“What a hero.” I smiled, tugging the fabric of Archie’s tie through a loop, but I could tell that he could see right through my weak façade. Archie frowned.

“What’s wrong, Y/N/N? Tell me. Is it Veronica? What-”

“Nothing’s wrong with Veronica,” I said, frowning a little myself as I try to remember the next step of tying the bow tie, “She’s perfect.”

“Then what’s got you so nervous? You’re my best friend and twin sister, Mia, I know when something’s wrong.”

Finishing the tie, I smoothed the bow and turned away, sitting on my bed with a sigh. “It’s just… I’ve never been to a dance with a girl before. What if everyone judges us? I know I shouldn’t worry about this, and I know I’ll be safe with Ronnie, but… you know what I mean, right?”

Archie smiled and came to sit beside me. “I do. If people judge you, Y/N/N, then that’s their problem, not yours. You’ve been with Veronica for six months, and people have been fine with it so far, right? People can see how much you love Veronica, and how much she loves you, just by looking at the two of you together. You know I love you both, and so does Betty and Jug and Kevin, so if anyone tries to get in the way of you two, they’ll have us to answer to.”

I looked up from my floorboards to Archie’s earnest eyes. I thanked God for my brother in that moment. “So you’ll be all big-brotherly and fight off anyone who hurts me?” I said, smiling.

“You bet I will. That’s if Veronica doesn’t get there first.” Archie grinned. I laughed a little at the thought, already feeling more relaxed- if it came down to it, Ronnie would probably be the first person to skewer the person who hurt me with her icy dagger.

“Thanks, Arch.”

“No problem. Now, let’s not keep our dates waiting. You ready?”

“Yeah, I think so.” I took a deep breath, and Archie extended his hand to help me stand up. Just before we left my room, Archie squeezed my hand and smiled, a hint of pride in his eyes.

“You really do look beautiful, Y/N/N.”

“Thank you, Archie.” I said, smiling and nudging his broad shoulder. Feeling completely relaxed, I nodded at my brother, who took my arm through his and led me out of my room, letting me stop to grab my black bag with my phone and keys in it on the way out. Downstairs, we could hear the mumble of chatter between Betty and Veronica. I smiled at the thought of my girlfriend, clad in a stunning dress, probably, waiting for me, and I felt a lot surer of myself. Archie slowly led us down the creaky wooden staircase, and once we reached the bottom, I looked into the kitchen and locked eyes with Veronica, and I suddenly felt at home. Her chocolate-brown eyes were wide as she took in my outfit, and I could feel a blush in my cheeks already. She looked gorgeous, as always, in a black sleeveless dress with a lace back, which had a long cut-out that stretched from her neck to the small of her back. Betty looked adorable in a pale blue dress that complimented her pale skin perfectly.

Betty whistled as Archie let go of my arm and followed me down the hallway towards the kitchen. I let my hips sway a little, mainly for Veronica’s benefit, and I watched as she flickered her eyebrows, knowing the game I was playing.

“Betty, you look amazing!” I greeted my best friend, leaning in to squeeze her tightly. She squeezed me back and grinned as we pulled away.

“So do you, that dress is incredible!” Betty opined, softly touching the tulle of my skirt.

“Thanks, Bets.” I smiled, before turning to Veronica. We were pretty much the same height on a regular, converse-wearing day; I stood at 5’ 3” (almost 4), with her an inch shorter, but with the help of both of us wearing heels (mine were three inches, hers must have been around the same) she stood at exactly my height, which I loved.

“Hey, Ronnie.”

“Hey.” She smirked, standing up straight and taking my hand. She pulled me close and pressed a sweet kiss on my cheek, which made a thousand butterflies all flap their wings at once in my stomach. “Shall we get going, my loves? The music will not wait!”

“Okay, Ronnie,” Archie laughed, tucking his keys inside his tux pocket, “Who’s driving?”

***

A little while later, Ronnie and I were sitting in a couple of chairs at the side of the room, faces flushed after dancing and jumping around with Arch and Betty for a fair amount of time. My feet were aching, and my head was pounding, but I was with Ronnie, so everything was okay. I’d stopped caring what our classmates were thinking of us a long time ago.

Veronica was sitting with her head on my shoulder, my arm around her waist, just catching her breath back. My legs were crossed, and every so often, I would kiss the top of her head or stroke her hair away from her eyes, while my hand traced patterns into her side. She smelled of chocolate and expensive Miss Dior perfume, and to me, the smell was more intoxicating than any alcohol, and it comforted me. We were content this way, but then, the DJ spoke up to announce a new song, a slower, more romantic melody that Veronica and I knew very well- ‘All Through the Night’ by Sleeping at Last. It was our song. Veronica had had it playing in her room the night of our first kiss- we had just got back from the closing night of the Twilight Drive-In, and Veronica had invited me in for coffee, and… well, you can guess the rest.

I smiled into Veronica’s hair as I heard the familiar melody, and Ronnie lifted her head from my shoulder as she heard it too. Her eyes were alight, and I knew she was about to ask me something that I wouldn’t be able to say to no to.

“Dance with me?”

“I’m tired, Ronnie…” I pretended to be aloof, as if I had a choice, but my heart was burning with the urge to have her hold me in her arms. Veronica stood up and took my hands, dragging me with her, and gave me her most adorable puppy-dog eyes. Her dark eyelashes fluttered a little, a pout on her lips, and I knew that I wouldn’t be able to resist her eyes for much longer.

Veronica pulled me close, taking my other hand and linking our fingers. Her voice was soft and alluring as she whispered to me, “Dance with me, my darling.”

Despite the music, I could hear her loud and clear, as though she had spoken the words right in my ear. My heart ached for her, but I was too drawn into her trap to speak, so I just nodded and smiled. Veronica squeezed my hands, a blinding smile illuminating her face in the dimness of the gym, and turned to lead me into the crowd of swaying couples. Being Veronica, she guided us into the centre of the room, before she spun back around and faced me, her smile as bright as ever. I lifted her hands and placed them around my neck, and her touch sent a tidal wave of sparks through my skin. She exhaled, and I knew that she felt more at ease too. She wrapped her arms further around my neck until she could touch her elbows, which drew us closer together. As I slipped my arms around her waist, I could feel her body relaxing into my touch, and I smiled at how easy, how natural this all felt. I held her against me, squeezing her so I could touch my elbows too. Veronica started to sway us gently to the beat of the song, her eyes still locked with mine. She leaned closer still to me and rested her chin on my bare shoulder.

“This is our song…” Veronica murmured into my ear, “Do you remember that night?“

“Of course, I’ll never forget it,” I answered in a heartbeat, “It was the best night of my life.”

“Mine too,” Ronnie lightly her brushed her lips over my shoulder, before pulling away a little and looking back in my eyes, “You looked… so beautiful.”

“I’m pretty sure I was in your pyjamas, wearing my glasses, and had coffee stains on my shirt.” I laughed, remember the image of us sitting on Veronica’s bed as though it was happening right in front of me. When we had finished our coffee, Veronica offered to let me stay the night, and she had lent me a pair of blue plaid shorts and an oversized grey sweater that had the words, my heart lies in New York city printed on it in curling cursive.

Veronica seemed to remember too; she smiled and let her eyes smile too. “I know. I said you looked beautiful.”

I blushed, and Veronica let one of her hands slide down to cup my cheek, her thumb grazing over my cheekbone. “You still can’t take a compliment, can you?”

“Not while I’m in love with the most beautiful girl I’ve ever seen in my life. She overpowers every compliment I could ever receive.”

Veronica raised an eyebrow, testing my reaction. “In love with, you say? Do I know her?”

“Maybe,” I smirked, as I twirled us around to the music, making her squeal at the sudden change in speed and cling to my neck, locking her other hand back with the first, “She moved here from New York. She has the most incredible dress sense, and she’s trying her damn best to be kind and caring and the most amazing friend in the world. She’s funny and talented and can do pretty much everything. Oh, and she’s beautiful. Like, insanely, unbelievably, irresistibly beautiful. She’s pretty much stolen my heart, and it doesn’t look like she’s giving it back any time soon.”

Veronica’s eyes were wide and watering, and her face was flushed once more. She laughed breathily, and reached up to touch her forehead to mine. “I love you, so much, Y/N Andrews.”

“Not as much as I love you, Veronica Lodge.” Just as the words left my mouth, I heard the part of the song that I remembered her kissing me for the first time at, like a wave of déjà vu, and I looked down into her bright, fluttering eyes. She blinked to keep the tears away, but they fell regardless, and I caught them with my thumbs as I reached up and held her face in my hands.

“I think I remember that night a little better… I think it went a little something like this…” I whispered, leaning in and pressing my lips to hers, bringing her face up to mine, and the whole world just fell away. She responded immediately, kissing me back with as much as love and feeling as she could pour into it, and I smiled and giggled into the kiss. Veronica’s arms held us close together, and the force of our kiss caused Veronica to bend backwards and pop her foot, just like the kisses in the movies. I broke the kiss and laughed at how tightly she’s clinging to me, and I let her arch her back and roll her body back up to a standing position. By the time she faced me again, she was laughing too, and I took her hand, spinning her out and back into me. We spent the rest of the song laughing and smiling and crying happy tears in the whirlwind of our song, and in that moment, I realised that I’d never loved Veronica Lodge more.

#veronica lodge #veronicaxreader #riverdaleimagine #bireader #totallynotbasedonmyfantasies

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magnolia-among-the-stars · 8 years ago

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The Broken Club (Finn Balor)

Requested: Yes

Prompt: 10; That (JACKET) looks good on you.

Finn Balor x Reader

Rating: Fluffy Fiction

Enjoy!

You laid around backstage, having had your intended match for the evening. You were early on the card, a three-man ladder match against Bailey and Sasha Banks. To say that you were bruised and worn out was an understatement but your night wasn’t over yet. You slid on a black cropped leather jacket, a familiar five dagger symbol on the back as you waited for your cue.

Finn’s match with Hardy’s had just begun and you had enough time to watch them. Finn being your best friend and roommate for as long as you’d been in the WWE, working your way up NXT side by side, the two of you were inseparable. He was always there to lend a helping hand in the ring and with the new development you’d just recently talked with Hunter about had brought you here.

“What’s up with the jacket?” Sasha had asked as you slipped it on after your match. Already wrapped up in a sweatshirt and sweats, her hair tied back and glasses on, Sasha was confused as to why you hadn’t changed yet.

“You’ll see,” you mumbled as you watched Bailey from the monitor, supporting Sheamus, Cesaro, and Elias from ringside. She was the only other women’s wrestler who knew. Stephanie was out there in the ring, stating that this match would be a mixed 4x4 match and everyone seemed confused. You could see everyone calculating the numbers in their heads, that’s when your music hit. The audience was deafening as you walked through the curtain.

“Oh my god, you didn’t tell me?” Sasha yelled at you, the noise of the crowd overbearing. You only made contact with one person as you marched down the ring. You winked at Finn before you slid in under the bottom rope. Finn’s fingers grasped two microphones and he handed one to you as you walked around the ring, eyes bored into Bailey’s.

“That jacket looks mighty good on you, Y/N,” Finn’s deep Irish accent boomed through the arena as the noise died down. You looked back at him with a grin.

“Too sweet, don’t you think?” you flicked the collar as the crowd popped again as Matt grabbed a mic and began to slowly melt away into a Broken state. The match ended with Bailey laid out on the mat, you on the top rope. You pulled your fingers into a Balor gun finger motion and pulled the trigger, hit a moonsault and pulled her legs up for the win.

You rolled immediately out of the ring and into the arms of your new faction ‘The Broken Club.’ You laughed hysterically as the four of you made it up the ramp, arms up in pride as your theme song blast from the speakers. Now was the moment. Finn turned and quickly pressed his lips to yours in a hasty and blazing kiss. His hand found its way to your chin as the crowd lost it while Matt and Jeff began to chant delightful.

You pulled away and could not look away from Finn’s eyes as Jeff grasped your sleeve and pulled you both through the curtain, leaving everyone excitedly confused at what was next. “That was amazing,” Jeff said as you made it past the gorilla and shook hands with everyone.

“Y/N, that was a beautiful moonsault,” Matt complimented you as he whipped his face with a towel and you smiled.

“That means the world guys, thank you! It’s an honor to be working with you,” you told them and glanced over at Finn, leaned up against the wall across from you. “That was some kiss there Balor.”

“Only the best for my roommate,” he chuckled, finally out of his daze. He wrapped an arm around your shoulders and led you down the hallway. “Let’s get changed and head to the hotel, you must be exhausted, two matches in one night?”

“I’m wide awake, let’s build some legos,” you replied, your hand wrapped around his middle.

“Be still my beating heart,” Finn cooed as you laughed.

Want this to be a multi-chapter story? Want a part two? Want a different request? Send it here :) Let me know what you think!

#WWE #WWE Raw #wwe smackdown #wwe imagine #wwe smut #wwe imagines #wwe preferences #wwe preference #finn balor #broken balor club #brokenclubfinn #jeff hardy #finn balor imagine #jeff hardy imagines #jeff hardy imagine

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ineverhadmyinternetphase · 8 years ago

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Steal My Heart (steal my whole life too) 18/24

Genre: Chaptered, fantasy AU, Prince!Phil, Thief!Dan, romance, enemies to lovers, angst and fluff, slow burn (like serious slow burn)

Warnings: some violence, mentions of death (no main characters), dark magic, descriptions of wounds/blood, some hints of sexual scenes (but no actual smut), murder, dangerous situations, stealing/thievery

Summary: Captain of the Royal Guard and Prince of Morellia, Philip Lester has never been given the chance to find love. Instead, he’s run from a system that works to end class differences and improve equality for its citizens. Happy as he is to make the world a better place, Phil can’t help feeling bitter towards his ancestors for making it impossible for him to find someone who will actually love him for more than just his title, and strives instead for a life of justice and doing good - only to meet his match in the King of Thieves, a man who will change everything he once thought he knew in life. Together, they must depart on a quest to save the kingdom, and, in the process, destroy their differences and find their own form of love.

Word count: 240,000+

Updates: Sunday

Thanks so much to @botanistlester for betaing this giant monster, as she’s been super helpful and encouraging with her little comments and endless excitement. We couldn’t have done it without you <3

Disclaimer: In no way do I claim that this is real or cast aspersions on Dan or Phil

For reference, @snowbunnylester is Phil, @ineverhadmyinternetphase is Dan

(AO3 link) (Masterlist) (Previous)

Chapter 18

The night was fitful for Dan. He’d slept a little, wrapped up in Phil’s arms and reassured in the best way possible that they were secure in their relationship, but his dreams were uneasy and he woke again often, staring at the greenery surrounding their little camp inside the tree. His mind was racing, but this time not with doubts and fears about Phil’s feelings for him - no, Dan was finally secure enough in that. What worried him was the stark reminder of just how much danger Phil was in.

Dan had known, he supposed, that the royals weren’t always safe. It just always seemed that way. They lived behind their palace walls, they existed in a realm so different to Dan’s own that he’d never realised that their world could come with its own dangers. It had taken the Duke to make Dan realise that Phil had enemies, too, and sometimes they were even more powerful than Dan’s own.

Eventually, Dan couldn’t take the silence any longer. He rolled carefully out of their shared furs, making sure not to disturb Phil, who was still sleeping soundly. It was warm inside the tree, even warmer because Dan had refused to let go of Phil all night. The result was both of them being quite sticky, but Phil didn’t seem bothered. He was still sleeping soundly, fringe falling in his eyes, furs wrapped determinedly around him.

Dan spent a moment watching him softly before he picked up his washing kit and crept his way out of the tree.

The sun was just starting to rise, just reaching the top of the canopy far above Dan’s head. The temperature was pleasant, cool but not cold, and the scent of greenery was thick and heavy in the air. The landscape was still unfamiliar to Dan. He found himself longing for his desert, for the long wide expanse of sand and sun where he knew how to take cover and catch himself a meal. There were too many trees here, too many things crowding the ground. He didn’t know where to run if he needed to.

Phil did, though. Phil knew this land, and that went a long way to making Dan feel safer. He trusted his Prince, despite everything.

Dan followed the line of the trees until he found the river bank, the water cool and clear, reflecting the greenery surrounding him. It didn’t even look the right colour. Dan had to admit, though, that no matter how much he missed the desert, the easy access to water in the forest was convenient.

He stripped down quickly, depositing his clothes in a little pile, and ducked under the cover of the water, hidden in the fronds of bushes surrounding the bank. Everything smelled earthy and muddy, completely different to his home, different even to the capital. Dan couldn’t be completely at home here, and even as he washed, he was completely on guard.

So he heard the footstep the minute someone else approached.

In seconds, his hand was on his dagger and he was crouched among the bushes, concealed by the overlapping leaves and rush of the water.

A little way away, buried among the trees, stood an unwelcomingly familiar shape. Dan’s eyes narrowed, and he didn’t let up his grip on his dagger at all as he pulled on his clothes, still hidden in the trees.

The Duke had seen him, though. He could tell from the wicked smirk he was being sent. “Ah. I see you’re awake, then.”

Dan did his best not to snarl. Phil had given him leave to be as uncivil as he liked, but Dan wasn’t going to feed this Duke’s ideas about commoners anymore than he absolutely had to. So he simply answered, tone biting, “It’s no business of yours.”

The Duke raised a brow. “Oh? I would beg to differ.”

Dan ignored him. He simply set about packing up his things, saving a fur washcloth to keep damp.

He wasn’t going to let Phil come out here now he knew the Duke was lurking.

“You see, Daniel,” the Duke continued, sneering at the lack of a title to Dan’s name. “I am simply here, reporting for duty. Making myself as useful to our Prince as I can.”

Dan’s hand clenched into a fist. He whirled, eyes flashing, dagger still in his hand, unsure just how much to check his temper. Phil had said he could be as uncivil as necessary, yes, but Dan still had to be careful - he couldn’t risk giving up his true identity. He had to play at being a simple commoner.

But he still wasn’t letting the Duke get away with anything.

“Shame you have to lurk outside our camp,” Dan snapped in reply. “I seemed to wake up in our Prince’s arms, so.”

The Duke seemed unbothered, his tone still casual. “Oh, I doubt for much longer, though.”

Dan’s grip tightened on his dagger, and he took a threatening step closer. He wished he was dressed in more than just his simple trousers, longed for his long cloak. He felt very exposed.

And rightfully so. It didn’t take the Duke long to drag his eyes down Dan’s body, and Dan gritted his teeth. His scars were in plain sight, telling a harsher tale than would belong to a plain commoner. But there was nothing Dan could do.

He wouldn’t be caught unawares again, he vowed. Not until he could find some way to do away with the Duke quietly.

The Duke simply smirked, slowly. “You have lived an interesting life, Daniel Howell.”

“As I said,” Dan said roughly, “None of your business.”

“Oh, but it very soon will be.” The Duke narrowed his eyes. “I know you are the one who attacked me with the dagger at the banquet. You have good aim, too good for a simple commoner. And your name, completely unknown… a man like you would not go unknown for long.”

Dan stood a little straighter, lips twitching. “Careful. That was almost a compliment.”

“My mistake,” the Duke answered flatly. His eyes drifted down to the dagger in Dan’s grip, and he took a slow, measured step back before continuing. “But either way, it will not be of import for long.”

“You say that like I have any plans of going anywhere,” Dan answered silkily. “Which, I assure you, I do not.”

The Duke’s eyes were glittering through the dawn sunlight. He backed up another step. “Perhaps. But I think your intentions will not matter for much longer. Someone as scarred as you is too damaged for a Prince.”

Dan’s eyes flashed. In seconds he leaped from the river bank, moving silently through the trees to grip the Duke by the collar of his fine jacket, shoving him back against a tree trunk. Dan was satisfied at the small flash of fear that crossed the Duke’s expression.

“I suggest,” Dan stated silkily, “That you keep your opinions to yourselves. Would be a shame, wouldn’t it, for a Duke like you to be bested by a mere commoner.”

“Never,” the Duke spat.

Dan simply grinned, releasing him slowly and stepping back. He turned and continued on his way with an airy wave of his hand over his shoulder. “I’ll leave you to wash. I’m sure Phil - sorry - Prince Philip will have time for you shortly. Just as soon as I’m done, anyway.”

The Duke’s look of chagrin was sweet enough, but Dan was still troubled as he made his way back to the secret camp within the tree. The Duke knew too much for his own good, and his words still dug at an insecure, vulnerable itch deep under Dan’s skin. Dan didn’t expect to feel so insecure.

His scars - he never let anyone see them. And now the Duke had, and said he wasn’t good enough for Phil because of them.

Dan shook the thought away, and focused on ensuring he wasn’t followed as he slipped back into the camp, where Phil would be waiting for him.

---

Phil woke up sticky and disoriented, curled up on top of his and Dan’s pile of furs, but minus the existence of Dan. It left him confused for a moment, just blinking awake, when there was a rustling sound from the entrance, and Phil rolled just in time to find Dan crawling back through to him with a wet looking fur in his hand he’d probably pulled from their bags.

With a mumbled hum of greeting, and feeling far more relaxed than the flare of panic in his gut when he’d first thought Dan was missing, Phil closed his eyes and opened his arms in request for Dan to join him back in bed. He hadn’t expected to wake up and not get the chance to curl up with his thief, after all, and was seriously craving the intimacy. Dan, however, seemed to have other plans, because not moments after Phil heard the sound of Dan’s footsteps approaching, he didn’t get to enjoy the feeling of a warm body curling up against him - instead, he squealed as something cold and wet touched his skin.

“Dan!” Phil hissed, eyes flying open as he sat up so quickly, he got a head rush, body feeling all tingly from the rather sudden movement. Phil moaned at the feeling, and Dan shoved him back over until Phil was laying down on their furs once more with a murmured “Shush,” that sounded a little -- put out?

"I'm not letting you bathe in that river where the Duke could see you, so you'll just have to settle for a clammy wash down from me instead," he explained, to which Phil couldn’t even argue, relaxing into the warm furs and trying not to feel too embarrassed that he was being treated like a child.

After yesterday, who was Phil to complain if Dan wanted to keep Phil all to himself? Besides, Phil couldn’t exactly deny that having Dan wash him felt really nice, his fingers gentle but firm as he pressed the fur turned washcloth down against Phil’s body, cleaning bits of Phil that made him squirm and blush as he tried to rock away. Dan merely ignored the motion, however, pinning Phil with a stern glare and carrying on about his business.

Unable to help the teasing, Phil interrupted him with a slight grin to say, “If you wanted an excuse to touch me so badly, you could have just woken me up with that rather than a cold fur.”

Dan tossed Phil an unimpressed look, but Phil could see the way the corners of his lips were quirking up regardless, and it made him laugh, reaching for Dan the minute his thief had deposited the wet washcloth off to the side just so he could pull his thief into a warm kiss.

Unfortunately for Phil, however, their lips had barely brushed against each other before Dan was pulling back, an expression of fire in his eyes. That was enough to startle Phil awake, who finally took in the fact that… Dan did not look happy, and he did not know why.

Brow furrowed, Phil asked, “What’s wrong?” quietly, his hand moving from Dan’s cheek to caress down his neck and cup gently at the skin there, marked my Phil’s mouth not all that long ago now.

Dan's eyes narrowed at Phil's question, not fully wanting to talk about it, especially when his Prince had been so oblivious as to have not noticed something was wrong right away. Sighing, Dan refused to come into Phil's embrace, no matter the fact that Phil had been reaching for him ever since Dan had returned. Instead, Dan sat with his knees pulled into his chest, and rested his chin on his knees to survey Phil closely.

Phil sat up a bit, finally, apparently noticing Dan's discontent for the first time, and Dan released a heavy breath through his nose. He toyed with the damp washcloth he’d set beside him, and looked away. He didn't want to upset Phil again, not after the terrible day they'd both had yesterday. So he met Phil's eyes with a small smile. "Would you like the nice lie, or the honest truth?"

It was hard for Phil to see Dan like this, sitting curled up the way he currently was, chin resting propped up on his knees, arms wrapped loosely around himself. More than anything, he wanted to go over to him, but Phil was still wrestling sleep from his eyes, and it didn’t look like Dan so much as wanted to be touched just then. He’d hardly let Phil kiss him for goodness’ sakes.

The question, though… that was an easy one, and as Phil gave Dan a look, he knew his thief would understand.

Dan lifted his eyes heavenwards. "Yes, yes, no secrets, I know. Alright then." Dan pursed his lips, then very deliberately placed the wet washcloth on Phil's bare stomach, watching with amusement as he squirmed away.

Squealing when the wet washcloth pressed to his stomach once more, Phil wriggled, glaring up at Dan as he removed it from his skin. He couldn't be too angry, however, when the look in Dan's eyes resembled his usual playful nature once again, and his expression softened some as he watched Dan. A tiny grin pressed over Phil’s lips, and he shifted to join Dan, but his thief shifted away with him, and that was enough to tell Phil that he really wasn’t okay just then.

Instead, Phil tilted his head, and waited for Dan to go on.

"The Duke saw me washing at the river,” Dan explained, his voice a little rough. He still refused to meet Phil’s eyes. “I covered my dignity, don't worry, but he was just standing there smirking for ages. As soon as I pulled my tunic back on, he laughed and said how the Prince would never want someone as scarred and damaged as me."

Instantly, Phil could feel the anger and disgust twisting into his belly all over again, and he sat up even straighter than before at Dan’s words, at the idea of the Duke, of all people, making fun of the person that Phil loved. He felt his jaw clench, and his fingers start to curl into fists at his sides, but his lips were glued shut with the lack of knowledge on what to say.

Dan shifted a bit. He never let anyone see his scars - Phil aside - but he felt more than a little vulnerable, knowing that the Duke had seen him. He reached over to rub Phil's shoulder reassuringly, not wanting him to be too worried for Dan, but also not wanting to be held just then. "I'm not insecure, usually. I have no problem with what he thinks, especially as you seem to love my body so much." Dan winked, but his expression remained a little forlorn. "It's just - he saw my scars. And I'm worried he'll realise I'm not exactly your run-of-the-mill commoner."

Dan's hand on his shoulder did nothing to calm Phil down. There was no room inside of Phil to be jealous that someone besides himself had seen his thief naked, or at least, partially so, but there was room for Phil to want to castrate the Duke for ever having insulted his Dan.

"I do love your body," Phil insisted, ignoring Dan's joke completely, and only holding back for reaching for him this time because Dan had recoiled the time before. He kept his fists clenched at his sides, wide awake now. "I adore every inch of it, scars and all. And it's not just what you do with it that I enjoy, Daniel,” Phil insisted, voice fierce. “It's how you look, and feel, how you make me feel, just by looking at you. I'd never change a thing about you," he insisted. It didn’t matter to Phil that Dan had insisted he wasn’t insecure about his body, because even if Phil did believe that, did believe that Dan was more worried about the Duke catching them out, like hell if Phil wasn’t going to reassure Dan that Phil loved every inch of him.

"It doesn't matter what he thinks, either way, though, Dan. It doesn't matter if he figures you out, either. Neither one of us is going to just let him run off and run his mouth, not when there's so much more on the line than a mere Duke’s head left on the ground."

Dan could do nothing in response but stare at Phil in awe, eyes a little wide in intent surprise at such a serious response from his Prince. Still, despite himself, it made him grin, and he ducked his head to smile up at his Prince from under thick lashes. Gently, Dan reached for Phil, and took his clasped fists into his own hands, smoothing out the anger there and threading his fingers through Phil’s.

Phil's words had brought a sense of comfort and reassurance to Dan. No matter what Dan might say, his pride had been wounded a little by the Duke's words. Dan knew he was attractive, had used it to his advantage in the past, but getting told he wasn't enough for Phil dug into some of his more recent worries.

Phil was pretty quickly eradicating them with the way he used that tongue of his, though.

“Is that right?” Dan asked, half teasing.

Phil, for his part, couldn’t relax quite so easily, mind spinning with all of the terrible things he wanted to do to the Duke for daring to say such cruel things to his Dan, merely nodded his head. He could feel that his brow was still furrowed, but Dan was looking up at Phil with such a sweet expression on his face, that he couldn’t help himself when he ducked in close and took Dan’s mouth in a passionate kiss.

His fingers were quick to untangle from Dan’s, just for the excuse to reach out and touch his body, grasping tight to his hips and making it clear just how much Phil always wanted him. He thought he’d shown Dan just how much he loved his body last night, but perhaps they needed another round to cement that fact home.

By the time Phil pulled away, he was dizzy with want.

“Yes,” Phil replied, as a delayed response, and ducked in close to kiss Dan all over again.

"Good," Dan whispered against Phil's lips, finally leaning down to push Phil back into the furs. He held himself over Phil carefully, elbows by his head and legs entangling together messily. "I may have told the Duke you'd be sleeping in late, and that I'd be keeping you busy. It'd be a shame to let him down. Here - let me make up for waking you with cold water."

So Dan leaned down and sealed their lips in another kiss, before moving his attention elsewhere.

---

Mornings could be very satisfying, Dan was beginning to learn. He kept Phil trapped in his embrace for a while after, holding him against his chest as Dan pressed his face once more into Phil's hair. He wanted to hold onto this moment, to remember the intimacy they shared, the way it felt to have Phil's lips on his. Dan knew they'd have precious little chance after this.

Eventually, though, Dan stirred, because he knew otherwise he would sleep in Phil's arms forever, and they did have a castle full of royals to save.

"Phil," Dan murmured, nudging him with his elbow. "C'mon, roll over. You've got to let me up, much as I'd like to stay here with you forever." He moved his hand down Phil's newly-sticky skin, allowing himself a chuckle. "I think I have to clean you up again."

Phil was far too relaxed and content, sleepy even, in Dan's arms to want to move away when Dan begun to nudge him. His head rested over Dan's heart, his favorite spot, and Dan was breathing softly against his hair. What more could he want? But Dan was quickly jostling Phil, insisting he roll over and get out of bed, hand sweeping over Phil's sticky skin all over again. Drowsy as he was, it took Phil a moment to register what Dan had said, but he was grateful for it when his thief slapped the wet fur to his skin once again and he wasn’t taken completely by surprise this time. He didn’t even squeal, which was a nice relief to his ego.

It was warmer now as well, though still cold, and Phil's stomach caved away at the touch. He ended up groaning in disgust a little, and then shoved at Dan for his effort.

“Stop it,” he complained. “I’d make you let me bathe you properly if I weren’t so against the idea of the Duke getting the chance to sneak a peek at me. I think he’d be dead before he got the chance to see much, though,” Phil muttered, voice gruff with the early morning. He was still buzzing with his orgasm, still flying high on the way he could make Dan feel, and it was difficult now to remember what their mission was, but he knew he needed to get up.

Far more lax and comfortable with Dan cleaning him this time, Phil hardly squirmed when Dan pressed the washcloth against Phil’s skin, moving it over his most intimate bits. Instead, he just closed his eyes and allowed himself to relax. He'd never once thought he could be this comfortable, feel this safe, with anyone, and yet here he was, trusting Dan with all of him.

This was something that Phil never wanted to lose.

Once Phil was clean, or as clean as he could get from a simple wipe-down, he got up and started to get dressed, getting distracted only once when Dan stopped him to draw him in for another lingering, more heartfelt and sweet kiss that told Phil everything he needed to know about how Dan was feeling. He swore to himself, as he kissed Dan back, that he would make this up to Dan someday, somehow. He hated himself for putting Dan through so much pain and heartache, but he didn't know what else he could do to keep his family safe.

After making certain the coast was clear, Phil crawled out of their shelter, not wanting the Duke to ever know about the existence of these trees, and made his way to the river where his bridge was to distract the Duke while Dan got all of their stuff together and settled. He'd join them later, with a heartfelt promise that Phil would not allow the Duke to pull anything on him.

Dan’s expression had told Phil exactly how his thief felt about the situation, but they didn’t have much of a choice if they wanted to keep themselves safe, so he’d let Phil go without too much complaint. Still, Phil knew beyond a doubt that Dan was going to rush the packing process, unwilling to leave Phil alone with the Duke for very long at all.

Not that Phil could blame him.

Dan was reluctant to allow Phil to go to the Duke alone, but he knew it made sense. Dan knew how to conceal their camp, to make sure no one could track them and the Duke would never find out about their tree. The idea of him finding and invading their own space upset Dan. It was enough to know that they had to spend the rest of the day in the Duke's company.

Dan let Phil go with one last, long kiss, and then turned to clear up their hideout alone.

Their three packs had grown much lighter in the week they'd been travelling so far. Dan packed up the furs and their spare clothes into one, and set about putting away the cooking equipment in the other. He checked their remaining food stocks and grimaced. Hardly enough to last till this evening, never mind past that. Dan had been thinking of going stealing once they reached the mountain village, but now the Duke was around that probably wasn't going to happen. Dan had to be Daniel Howell, not the King of Thieves.

With a heavy sigh, Dan knew he had to go hunting. He was loath to have to leave Phil alone with the Duke, but they needed food, and it was probably about time that Dan started to prove just how much he trusted his Prince. Plus, it would be much healthier to take his frustration out on animals than Phil or the Duke, and Dan could already feel jealousy flaring in his gut. So Dan scooped up his crossbow, shouldered his cloak that he couldn't wear around the Duke for fear of giving away his identity, and disappeared.

By the time Phil reached the lake clearing where he’d left his bridge last night, he found the Duke already eating a pile of berries he’d collected. It was the glint from Phil’s curved dagger wrapped tight to his arm, and the dagger at his waist, that alerted the Duke to Phil’s presence, which nearly made him snort for how unobservant the Duke really was.

He wouldn’t survive a minute against Dan or Phil unless he managed to take them by surprise. Phil was just going to have to not let that happen.

“So,” the Duke said, trying on his best smile as Phil approached him. “How is this bridge meant to work? I’ve never seen a bridge made before, when will it be done? You seem quite practiced with your hands, my Prince,” he added, the words flirty but falling on deaf ears.

Phil knew without a doubt this was the crappiest bridge anyone had ever seen in their life, so to have the Duke complementing it seemed like the most desperate of ploys, and he rolled his eyes at the remark. Instead, he kept walking straight past the Duke, unwilling to accept the berries the man had picked up to offer to him, and settled down instead where he’d left the bridge last night. He was pretty sure he just needed one more row for it, but he was still trying to figure out how he was going to get the rocks he planned to attach to the far end to stay attached to the wood for him to launch it across the river.

That’s when a bright idea hit Phil like a slap on the face, and he turned a rather bright grin the Duke’s way.

“Actually, it’s almost done,” Phil explained, batting his lashes at the Duke, who know looked rather taken aback, though he tried to hide his surprise at Phil’s meager bridge. “I just need someone to help me toss it across the river and weigh it down with rocks once it hits the other side. There’s no way I can attach the rocks directly, after all, so we’d have to move fast. Think you could help me anchor the bridge to the other side?” Phil asked.

The Duke’s jaw dropped open at the request, and he blinked a few times like he wasn’t sure if Phil was serious, but after a moment, he seemed to realize that Phil, in fact, was. It was at that moment that the Duke scrambled to his feet, and dusted himself with a quick nod of his head.

“Of course, your Highness,” he declared, winking at Phil, and turning instantly to go about finding rocks that might just do for weighing down Phil’s bridge. With a smirk spread full across his cheeks, Phil turned back to his bridge, and got to work finishing up what he hoped would be the end of the bridge, more than long enough to hit the other side of the river, but not too long it would sag between the banks and sweep Dan, Phil, and now the Duke, into the water.

While he did that, the Duke approached with a few rocks here and there, checking with Phil if they were big and heavy enough, to which Phil constantly said no, asking for bigger and heavier rocks each time just to fuck with the Duke. He was certain that both he and Dan would be able to lift and toss just about anything the Duke could find in this clearing, but it was becoming more and more clear that the Duke could not.

Once Phil was finished with his final row, however, he went ahead and moved the bridge back over to where he’d anchored the first parts of the bridge, and stood at the bank there. He stared contemplatively across the river, double checking whether he thought his bridge would make it, and then tossed the end he was holding across the water, hoping for the best.

The bridge landed softly, and held for a few seconds, before it started to slip back into the water. It was enough to show Phil, however, that if anchored properly, the bridge would not dip into the river itself, and while they’d likely have to crawl across the bridge, it would keep them afloat. That was all that he needed to know, and he grinned at the bridge floating into the water and rushed to the left with the current, but also back towards Phil, who reeled it in.

When Dan returned, he had a fat deer over his shoulder. He dropped the weapons and cloak back into the packs and made sure to conceal the entrance of the tree, and then shouldered the bags and the deer and made his slow way back down to the riverbank.

When he got there, Dan raised his brow, impressed. Phil was sitting at the bank, and the Duke was messing around with heavy rocks with a very disgruntled look on his face. On the whole, Dan was quite pleased with the image.

"Look what I've caught us, my love!" Dan announced, loud and proud, not caring if the Duke heard. He presented the deer to Phil, grinning. "I don't think we'll be short of meat for a while. Oh, and I swear I saw a satyr hiding in the trees, but it fled when it saw me. And there was a little nest of greenfinches all chirping away, you'd have loved to see it." Dan tilted his head, smiling coyly from under his lashes. "Are you going to reward me for all my hard work?"

After all, if the Duke was allowed to publicly flirt with Phil, then Dan was, too. Even better, he knew Phil actually wanted his advances.

Phil was just sitting down after dragging the bridge back to his side of the river when Dan appeared behind him in the tree line, shouting something about a deer. Turning around, Phil grinned, as Dan had managed to catch and hunt a very large, very fat deer, and he currently had it hoisted over his shoulder, not only showing off his hunting skills but his strength as well. It made Phil's heart flutter to see it, to watch Dan prove his worth to everyone, even if Phil didn’t think he should have to, and he was quick to stand, already planning to head straight to Dan’s side, Duke be damned.

No more avoiding each other today.

Unsure if Dan was lying about all the other creatures he’d seen in the forest, or if he’d been telling the truth, Phil couldn’t help his grin spreading either way. The idea that Dan had seen a Satyr had his heart fluttering away like crazy in his chest, as it had been a rare sight indeed even for him.

“Seriously?” he asked, as he made his way over to Dan, who merely smiled brightly at Phil and nodded his head with a look of such sincerity on his face that Phil had no trouble believing him. He cursed, then. “Shit! I wish I’d gone with you, now. I’m so sad I missed it,” he complained, and pouted a little even as he moved to wrap one hand against the back of Dan’s neck, mindful of the deer still against his shoulder, and drew him in close.

“You definitely get a reward, though,” he whispered, and kissed Dan soundly and sweetly, uncaring if the Duke was staring on, which Phil knew he would be.

If the Duke hadn’t been there, the kiss would have been so much more, and Phil would have teased the crap out of Dan just because he could, but as it was, Dan and Phil had far bigger worries now. Pulling away after a moment, Phil grinned at the way his thief's eyes glistened with mischief, and couldn’t help being beyond proud that his thief had been able to turn his jealousy and anger around to come up with a plan like this for today. Besides, Phil much preferred today’s careful flirting to yesterday's silent anger.

“Alright, off you go with your deer,” Phil teased, releasing Dan and shooing him away with another small grin, before finally turning back around to find the Duke. The man had his back pointedly turned away from both Dan and Phil, and he seemed to be searching the shore line further down the river where the bank was lower to find more rocks. Phil already knew he wasn’t going to find any good ones there, but he left the Duke to it while he wandered back to his bridge to sit down and bask in his plans for the day.

Dan was more than pleased with Phil's response. He grinned into the kisses, making sure to emphasise his happiness when Phil pulled away for the benefit of the good Duke. Dan didn't go too far when he set about skinning the deer, either, making sure he had a perfect view of the bridge-building - or rather, raft-floating might be more accurate. It still didn’t look like much of a bridge to him.

The Duke was being sent along the river bank on a menial task, though, so Dan couldn’t complain too much. He’d just make sure to tease Phil about his ‘bridge’ later.

Dan was skinning and preparing the deer to pack up and carry with them for meals over the next few days, and the Duke - well, the Duke was just going to continue his hunt until he brought Phil the perfect rock - by which he meant, the first one the Duke really started to show a struggle with.

Settling in, Phil got himself comfortable for at least a short wait, and did his best to keep an eye on the Duke while also sneaking glances at Dan from time to time.

Dan couldn't quite hold back a snort when he realised what Phil was doing, disguising it under a cough. Phil actually winked at him, and Dan had never thought his honest Prince could be quite as cunning as this. He definitely liked this side of Phil.

It took a a few more approaches of the Duke towards Phil for him to finally arrive carrying a rock that looked just heavy enough to be too much for the Duke to throw, but when he finally did, Phil jumped up with an excited grin on his face.

“Yes! That one! That one’s perfect! I think it’ll do well to anchor down the bridge. Do you think you can throw it across the river?” Phil asked with a cheeky smile on his face, innocent as ever as he stared up hopefully at the Duke. He knew without having to wait what the Duke’s reply would be; the only reply he could give if he wanted a chance at impressing Phil.

“Certainly, my Prince. Just tell me when,” the Duke replied, but his grin was less than enthusiastic. If anything, it looked more like a grimace. Phil ignored it, forcing himself to brighten immediately and offer the Duke another happy grin.

“Great!” he said, and, as the Duke attempted to lift the rock just high enough for him to lob it over the river, Phil moved to collect his end of the bridge, getting ready to toss it across the river as he’d done earlier.

“Ready?” Phil asked, moving closer to the bank, and tossing a glance back at the Duke, who nodded his agreement, though his face was turning purple with the effort he was exerting just to keep the rock help up to chest height. Grinning again, Phil turned back to the river, shouted, “Set!” moved to throw the bridge, and then shouted “Now!” at the same time as he tossed the bridge.

He expected the bridge to land before the stone, and, if done right, the rock would catch the bridge just before it could start to slip back down into the water, but, as Phil had predicted, the rock turned out to be too heavy for the Duke, and though he grunted and made a great show of tossing the thing across the river, it never made it to the opposite bank.

Instead, it landed with a solid plop in the middle of the river, sinking straight to the bottom, while the bridge Phil had constructed was dragged back into the river. Jogging closer, Phil leaned over to fish it out, and shouted over his shoulder, “Bad form, then. Find another one, and we can try again!”

The Duke didn’t dare to argue, nor did he let the quick flash of frustration Phil saw stay for long as he offered Phil a strained smile, and said, “Of course,” before walking off. The displeasure was more than pleasing to Phil.

Watching the Duke struggle to heft a large rock over to the other side of the lake was more than amusing. Dan turned back to his deer with a grin unashamedly spread across his face, though it fell a little at his next task. He had to gut the deer next, to set aside all the good meat, and it was messy and smelly and Dan's least favourite task.

And then, the perfect solution came to him.

"Ah, I'm sorry for the rock!" Dan called, standing and moving back to Phil's side with an innocent smile on his face. "Before you find another one to lose, my good Duke, why don't we swap jobs? You must be tired, and I'm sure you know how to properly prepare a deer, don't you?"

The Duke turned his furious gaze onto Dan, but Dan ignored him, instead smiling sweetly at Phil. "You agree, don't you, my Prince? I'm sure I could have a go at these rocks while the Duke is busy."

When Dan suddenly spoke up, offering his help and to switch jobs with the Duke, Phil had to hold back a snort of amusement. He could see Dan's eyes twinkling at him, as well, and he turned to catch his breath before he finally responded.

"Great idea, Dan. I think I may have tired the Duke out. Besides, our food source is just as important as crossing this river," he explained, tossing the words out carelessly as he turned back to his bridge, pretending not to notice as the Duke stormed away. In reality, though, Phil was smirking into his hand as he judged the distance of the far shore one more time. He couldn't help wondering, idly, if it wouldn't have been faster for him and Dan to find a shorter stretch of river to cross. Perhaps on their way back, then…

Much to Dan's delight, Phil was quick to agree. The Duke was left with no choice but to stamp on over to the deer, his fury made obvious in the way he glared at Dan.

Dan simply smiled sweetly in return, and then went straight for another rock. He lifted it easily, making a show of his strength, and smiled warmly at Phil, his eyes glittering with wicked intent. "To the other side, you say?"

"When I say 'now'," Phil agreed, and his tone was just as bubbly as Dan's, a grin stretching across his face from ear to ear. There was something in his eyes that told Dan just how much he was enjoying this, and it made his stomach do something strange. It was more and more often, these days, that Dan realized… he and Phil were not so unalike after all.

As Dan turned to face the river at the same time as Phil got into position to throw the bridge across, he felt his grin widening, and his heart nearly burst out of his chest. There was just something about Phil…

As soon as Phil gave the signal, Dan threw the rock, watching as it soared gracefully through the air and landed exactly where it was supposed to.

"There we are," Dan said lightly. "Not as hard as it looks, that."

Laughing lightly, Phil agreed easily enough, but he was busy staring across the river bank at where his bridge stood now. It wasn’t perfectly secured, Dan’s rock having landed a bit further to the middle than Phil would have liked, but worse than that, the part of the bridge not fully anchored was sagging into the water, making the bridge less than safe.

Biting his lip, Phil had to think for a moment before getting a bright idea. He smiled to himself, and tossed Dan a subtle wink as the thief moved to his side and stared at the problem Phil could see; the river was tossing the bridge about a bit more than it should have been able to .

“It seems so, my love,” Phil agreed dramatically, but he ended the statement with a sad sigh. “Only it would appear the other half maybe be harder still. It’s not secured properly, nor can it be from this side… Would you be willing to brave crossing without it fully anchored down to secure the second rock?” he asked Dan, turning to him with wide, innocent eyes.

For a moment, Dan looked confused, but then Phil’s earlier expression seemed to hit him, and he grinned, opening his mouth to reply when -

“If you’d allow me, my Prince,” the Duke said, just loud enough that Dan and Phil turned around to find the Duke wrist deep in the deer. He seemed to be doing his best to gut the animal, but he wasn’t very good at it, and he looked to be tearing up a good portion of the good meat, causing Phil to wince and Dan to roll his eyes from next to him. “I could cross the bridge for you,” the Duke offered, dislodging his wrist and standing up with a clearly relieved sigh, glaring down at the deer as if it had spited him.

Worried for the state of their well being should the Duke do any more damage to their food stock, and more than a little proud he’d been right in assuming the Duke would take any chance to prove his worthiness after failing with the rock throw earlier, Phil grinned. From beside him, Dan merely shrugged, looking put out, but Phil knew it was merely a show for the Duke.

"Alright, Duke Hemsworth. Let's see what you've got," he conceded, and went to the side of the bridge anchored by rope and logs to this side of the river bank. In response, the Duke jogged over grabbed a less heavy rock, before stopping at Phil’s side. For a moment, he looked triumphant, but then he took in the water and the way it tossed part of the bridge, and his expression became one of dubious fear.

"If it's too daunting a task, Duke, I could do it myself," Phil offered, grinning when the Duke shook his head.

"I would never ask my Prince to risk his life in such a way," Duke Hemsworth disagreed. "Hold the bridge steady for me, and I will cross.."

Doing exactly as he'd been told, Phil tried to right the right half of the bridge for the Duke, grinning all the while and having to hold back his laughter as the duke crawled unsteadily across the raft-bridge Phil had been forced to make. He couldn't help imagining the more beautiful, sturdy bridges he was capable of creating, and the ease in which he could have shoved the logs across the river to the other end of the shore were his bridge not so… flimsy, instead.

Still, it was amusing to watch the Duke make his clumsy way across said bridge.

Dan would have been more upset about having to leave Phil's side again, were it not for the delight he felt in watching the Duke struggling across to the other side of the river. Apparently, when they put their heads together, Dan and Phil made quite the team. The Duke was trapped and he knew it, and although he had to remain his simpering, smarmy self in front of the Prince, he sent Dan many charged, furious stares.

Dan took his place back by the deer. He frowned at the butchered, crude job the Duke had made of it so far, releasing a quiet sigh to himself. He should have known better than to assume some highborn Duke would know how to gut an animal, but really, he'd cut into some of the best parts of the meat. Dan set about fixing it with an eye roll aimed at Phil, which was returned with a grin. Dan loved Phil's grin. He'd happily sit watching it forever.

What was even more entertaining, though, was watching the Duke struggling with the rock. He floundered across the river, getting caught in the current more than once, and Dan found himself idly daydreaming of the Duke accidentally losing his footing so he'd go floating off downstream and no longer be a pain in Dan's backside. Unfortunately, Dan had no such luck, but it was still incredibly entertaining to watch him floundering across the water, soaked to the bone.

Once Dan had finished properly packing up the meat, he wandered back to Phil's side. The Duke had finally made it over to the other side of the river, and the bridge was stretched out nicely, looking as if it would hold well enough against the current. Dan placed a hand on Phil's shoulder with a small grin.

"I still think it looks more like a raft. Still, if it's the best you can do, well done." There was light teasing in Dan's tone, his voice low and strung with amusement.

There were a few moments where Phil thought the Duke was going to lose it all, scrambling as the river nearly forced him downstream, but he held tight to both the rock in his hands and the bridge even as he fell into the water more than once. For that, Phil could give the Duke some props, but it didn't mean he had to like it. He kept sending smiles at Dan, though, grinning and chuckling to himself as the Duke struggled, too distracted to notice the Prince's laughter, and then finally, he was on the other side.

Mere seconds later, Dan was next to Phil. Bristling with annoyance, Phil shoved him. "Shut up. I could have done better. Stop making fun of me or you're going to be sorry," he teased, though the flimsy bridge truly was irritating Phil and was about to become his new sore spot if Dan didn't quit his prodding.

Dan chuckled, shaking his head. "We’ll see about that. But for now, I say we make the Duke test it before we send the packs accidentally downriver, hm?"

Meanwhile, across the river, the Duke was shouting something about how he’d done it, and Phil was doing his best not to laugh at how ridiculous he looked, soaked to the bone by the river water.

Sending a nod and a thankful smile the Duke's way rather than replying, Phil murmured a quick "Absolutely," to Dan.

"Can you come back across? See if it holds steady?" Phil asked, grinning when the Duke's face dropped. He was sweaty and wet already, and yet he didn't complain.

It was amusing to watch him wobble on unsteady feet back across the bridge, but Phil did his best not to let that show, even when the Duke ended up half crawling in his own panic that he’d fall back into the river bed again. Dan, however, had no such qualms, snorting inelegantly at the Duke, and rolling his eyes while he shouted passive aggressive comments at him.

Phil didn’t interrupt. He didn’t have to. The Duke couldn’t say a word about Dan, but Dan could squabble all he wanted with the Duke in front of Phil, and it wouldn’t matter. In any other relationship, it might make a difference, revealing the Courter’s less desirable side to the Courter, but nothing could turn Phil away from Dan at this point.

Eventually, however, the Duke did manage to make it back across the bridge, breathless and a little wild in the eye, as he stood up and dusted himself off - rather pointlessly, considering he was drenched in water, rather than a bit musty from the earth. “The bridge is steady enough, my Prince. You’ve done a great job with it.”

Phil nearly snorted. The idea that the rickety old thing he’d made was any good was outright ridiculous to him, and yet he would be the last to admit that to the Duke when it was just so much more amusing seeing him try and suck up to Phil. So, instead, he grinned and said, “Well thank you, Duke Hemsworth. But I couldn’t have done it without you and my Dan.”

Turning with very little care for what the Duke thought of the motion right in front of him, Phil gripped tight to Dan’s face, and dragged him in for a quick, soft kiss, before letting him go again.

“Now, love, if you could be so kind as to finish up with the deer and pack up for us so we can leave?” he asked Dan, noticing the Duke’s smirk from the corner of his eye, and smiling himself. “The Duke will be busy testing out the bridge with me, so I’m afraid you’ll be on your own.”

The Duke blanched, but Dan absolutely cackled, shaking his head with shining eyes as he waved Phil off, offering him a perfectly respectful bow, before turning on his heel and going on his way. Phil did nothing more than grin after him, and then turn back to the Duke with a devilish look in his eye.

“Well. Shall we get started, then?”

By the time Dan returned with all three of their bags, having packed up Dan and Phil’s camp from inside of the tree, Phil had made the Duke re cross the bridge a total of 16 times, with constant new duties for him. The Duke had tested out if the bridge would collapse any time soon, scouted out the forest on the other side, and then walked up as far as the mountain edge just to reassure Phil that their route was safe and clear from any foreseeable dangers.

With no trust in him for the Duke, Phil didn’t much care for his reassurances. Mostly, he’d just wanted to torture the man a little bit longer, get him back for forcing Phil to accept his attempts at courtship, and keep him distracted from what Dan was doing, but now Dan was back, Phil thought it was about time they get a move on.

The sun had already reached its mid point in the sky, and Phil didn’t want to waste anymore time here than he had to. After all, he still had a curse to break, and who knew how long stealing from the dragon was going to take? Phil shuddered to even think of it.

“Ready, my love?” Phil asked as the Duke was making his final way across the bridge to Phil’s side. He didn’t bother to look behind him, already knowing by the way Dan walked that it was his thief.

A soft chuckle from behind him reassured him that he was right, and then Dan was replying with an easy, “Of course. Got everything packed away.”

The reassurance was enough for Phil, who knew Dan meant he’d taken care of hiding their hideout and erasing their tracks, in case anyone else had followed them all the way out here. They had no true way of knowing if the Duke had come alone, but Dan’s adventures in the forest the previous day and that morning had uncovered no threat, so it seemed unlikely. Still, they knew they could never be too careful.

With an undignified huff, the Duke walked off the end of the bridge to solid ground once more, and put his hands on his knees as he panted from exertion.

“My Prince,” he began, glancing upwards to find that Dan had finally arrived again. Instantly, he forced himself to straighten up, not wanting to show weakness in front of a rival. The thought made Phil grin. “I assure you, I have found no danger on the other side, nor does the bridge show any signs of giving out under my weight. Perhaps it is time we leave, before the sun falls any further in the sky?” he continued, face red and giving away the breath he held inside to prevent himself from panting.

Phil tilted his head, and gave the Duke his best contemplating stare, and then turned his gaze onto the bridge behind the Duke, and then onto the mountains beyond them. Finally, after another moment’s hesitation, Phil straightened up with an easy grin.

“Alright, I suppose you're right, Duke. We should be getting a move on,” he agreed.

The Duke let out an audible sigh, and quite nearly collapsed on the ground right then and there, when Phil added, “Come on then. One last quick trip across, and we’ll follow right behind!” Phil declared, turning away from the Duke in a dismissive gesture and walking quickly to where the Duke had left his, rather lackluster, bag from yesterday. Then, he tossed it over to the Duke, and nodded to the bridge.

“Well? Let’s go! Weren’t you the one in a hurry?” he asked when the Duke didn’t immediately go ahead.

Dan was guffawing into his arm, trying to hide how hilarious he found this entire situation, and Phil tossed him an affectionate grin as the Duke finally, finally turned to make one last trek across the bridge. If Phil had it his way… it would be the last time this side of his kingdom ever saw the Duke cross any bridge.

All three men took turns crossing. The Duke went first, nearly sliding off the edge and into the river bed all over again, but just managing to catch himself. Phil knew it was from the exhaustion, and while he wanted to grill the Duke for information, almost wished the Duke had fallen and been taken away by the current this time.

Dan insisted on crossing second, even making a show of taking two of their bags, when he’d normally make Phil carry all three, and it made Phil shake his head with something akin to fondness in his eyes. Finally, once the two were across, Phil made his way along the weak branches, his gait a saunter that neither man previously had been able to maintain, and hopped off on the other side with a cocky grin.

For the first time, the Duke looked rather impressed with Phil, while Dan -- well, Dan just rolled his eyes, but Phil didn’t mind. He was just proud of the fact that he’d managed to cross without tripping his own two feet for once. His gait had always been much heavier and less sure than Dan’s, after all.

Once across, however, Phil finally let the Duke have a small rest while he cut down the bridge he’d built and let it wash away into the river. He then rummaged through the bag Dan had left with him, looking for the letter he’d written for his father and brother. It detailed the account of what he’d been through so far, where he was, and his suspicion of the Duke. Phil had been careful to write it in enough code that his family alone would understand, and then he’d sealed it up tight so that the raven Dan had mentioned would not be able to open it or lose it too easily.

Once he fished it out, Phil moved to the raven post Dan had told him would be around here, a few meters away and into the thick forest, from where the three had crossed, and tied his letter to the bird's foot.

“Fare thee well,” Phil told the raven, and then it was off, and for the first time… Phil felt hope.

He was almost upon the dragon. His quest was nearly done. Soon… he would be home.

Grinning to himself at the thought of the end of this adventure, at the chance to move on from this heartbreak, and take Dan with him, Phil let out a soft sigh, and headed back to where he’d left the Duke and Dan. The Duke was sat against a tree, clearly trying to recover from the day’s events, while Dan was stood in the middle of the open area, both packs still on his back, sharpening his dagger, of course.

Once again, Phil rolled his eyes, and then cleared his throat to gather both men’s attention. The Duke jumped, as he always did, unobservant as he was, but Dan -- Dan merely flicked his eyes towards Phil casually, and nodded his head.

“Onwards, then,” Phil insisted, and so they went.

It only took another hour or so for the three men to encounter their first village up the mountain. They hadn’t yet had lunch, though Dan had whipped up a quick breakfast for Phil in their hollow before they’d joined the Duke, and the lack of food was showing most in the Duke. He looked haggard and beat down, even worse for wear than before he’d met up with Dan and Phil in the first place. His eyes looked sunken into his skull, dark bruising underneath, and he was snappier than usual, even to Phil.

This came as a welcome surprise, and even Dan used the Duke’s mood to his advantage, needling the man and hoping to provoke him just enough that he’d snap on Dan in front of Phil, where Phil could dismiss him. Unfortunately, the Duke and Dan had little time together, leaving Dan very little time to pull out his best tricks with the intent of messing with the Duke’s head. It was for the best, though; Dan would much rather be close to Phil.

It didn’t help that they really could use the Duke’s help making their way up the mountain and past the villages. The Duke was well known here, these people somewhat under his reign, though he had far too little power, as he liked to complain. Still, he had just enough sway in his words that Phil was certain he and Dan would be granted safe passage.

As suspected, they were only a few meters from the outskirts of the first village, having chosen not to hide, when a village leader came out to greet them.

He approached with narrowed eyes, a heavy headdress adorning his shoulders to denote his ranking among his people. His clothing was far better tailored to him than even the Duke’s, who looked a mess out here in the wild, and he wore his hair in long braids down his back. His arms were crossed over his chest as he came to a stop just outside the village.

“Duke,” Phil muttered, as they, too, approached ever closer.

Plastering a clearly false smile to his face, the Duke nodded his head, and promised Phil that he would take care of this danger for them.

Dan, Phil, and Duke Hemsworth all came to a stop a couple steps away from the Elder of the village, the Duke leading their counsel, though even that Phil did not truly like. He kept his own irritation at bay with the reminder that this was for the best. Dan and Phil would have less worry if someone took care of the village people for him.

“Elder Takanou,” the Duke greeted, offering the man a low bow, before coming back up to grin at him once more. “It is very nice to see you again. I am not here on official business with your people as times before -- I merely intend to pass through and continue on my way to the top of the mountain. The Prince and his suitor have business to be taken care of. I assure you… we will not bother your guardian,” the Duke explained, charming as ever, but with the tongue of a snake.

For Phil’s part, he was watching the cold eyes of the village Elder, Takanou. Takanou had nothing but derision for the Duke, that much was clear, and it was almost confusing to Phil. He’d been expecting the Duke and the village people to have some kind of agreement, some kind of… tentative truce, as they worked together with the witch, but it didn’t appear in the least bit true.

Was is possible that the Duke was not working with the witch after all? Was is possible it was merely the mountain people, and Cornelia’s parents alone? Perhaps… the Duke was working alone, and using the situation with the witch to his advantage. Or, perhaps, the Duke knew of the mountain people’s involvement with the witch, but they did not know of his…

Phil would have to figure that out.

“I can grant you free passage through my village alone. You will have to convince the other elders of their own, and I make no promises that they will let you though -- definitely not the closer to our guardian you come,” Elder Takanou replied, lips barely moving as he spoke, though his voice came out sure and strong. “They have far much more to lose than I.”

With that, the Elder shifted to the side, moving his body from a blocking position of his village, to one of welcoming. Phil let out a relieved sigh at that, while the Duke bowed low again in front of him.

“Of course, Elder. We understand, Elder. Thank you, Elder,” he praised, before raising once again.

Following in his example, both Dan and Phil bowed to the elder as well, murmuring thank yous to him, and then Dan, Phil, and the Duke were moving forward at an unhurried pace through the seemingly deserted village. As they walked, Phil did his best to keep his gaze respectfully forward, allowing the Duke to lead them through to the other side. So they continued up the mountain, but from time to time, he’d see movement in nearby windows, and he’d catch himself looking, just in time to see children staring out in awe at the passing of who they viewed as a total stranger.

Phil hoped, despite the elder’s knowledge of who Phil was, that the news of the Prince’s passing would not spread. He hoped that these children and their parents, clearly gaping through their drapes, would not recognize him for who he was.

Finally, finally, after a near silent, awkward walk through the village, the three men came out the other end, and let out equal sighs of relief.

“Well, that was far more stressful than anticipated,” Dan spoke up from beside Phil, as they continued moving, trying to put some space between them and the first village. The Duke snorted from in front of them, but his shoulders had noticeably relaxed, so Phil knew that he’d felt the strain as well.

“Yes, well. Thank you, Duke Hemsworth. Hopefully, the next few villages will be just as simple to pass through. Your services are invaluable,” Phil praised, not wanting to lose the Duke entirely just yet. He still had questions, things he wanted to know… and the Duke had not shown himself as a threat just yet. They had time, surely.

Phil’s praise worked the way he’d hoped it would, and the Duke finally stopped walking in front of them to turn and offer Phil a proper grin. He bowed, lower even than he had for the village elder, and when he came back up, tossed Dan a most cunning grin.

“Yes, well. Anything for my Prince.”

Dan glared. He’d never become accustomed to watching someone else flirt with his Phil, would never let that stand, no matter how much his common sense told him Phil was never going to leave him.

Instead, Dan made a show of placing his hand on Phil’s arm, sliding his fingers down until they were linked with Phil’s. Then, he flashed the Duke a smirk.

Trying not to recoil at the silky smooth flirtiness of the Duke’s voice, Phil merely grinned in response, and then changed the subject rather abruptly.

“Well! Now we’re passed that mess, and the sun is only getting lower, perhaps it is time we stop for lunch?” he offered.

Neither man argued, though they appeared to be caught in a stare down to the death, so Phil sighed, dropped Dan’s hand, and continued walking, right past both men, and over towards a small outcropping of rock where he thought they could settle in for a little while.

“Or, I can just have a meal for myself,” he muttered, and sighed as he settled in to wait for his two suitors to finish their pissing contest.

#phanfiction #iwritephanthings #snowbunnylester #phan fluff #phanfic #steal my heart

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ruffsficstuffplace · 8 years ago

Text

The Keeper of the Grove (Part 57)

To Weiss’ disappointment, she wasn’t going to be able to manufacture elemental or regular ammo and explosives any time soon.

The Guild, the Forge, and the Roost required that the Terrace certify that she had much more control over her powers, and that certification would take at least six weeks, with three-four visits per week. And with Penny advising her against any more physical or magical exertion in preparation for her first trip tomorrow afternoon, there really was nothing to do but laze around, or watch Blake and Penny finish their costumes in the living room and wait for them to ask for input.

“Want to go see my human disguise?” Ruby offered.

Weiss agreed, and off the two went into their room. Ruby put on her full Keeper of the Grove armour: enchanted cloak, the hood pulled up over her head, and the same mask she'd worn when they'd staged Weiss' death, as intimidating as the real one but without the fear hexes.

“Ready to see my super awesome human disguise, Weiss?” Ruby asked, waggling her eyebrows underneath the mask.

“Don't keep me in suspense!” Weiss replied as she sat in her hammock.

“Okay! Close your eyes and don’t open them until I say so!”

As Weiss obeyed, she wondered just what exactly she would look like, while Ruby giggled in excitement as she put it on.

“You can open your eyes now!”

Weiss did.

“Ta-da!” Ruby cried, throwing her arms out.

She had pulled off her hood and her mask, the latter stashed inside her cloak. She was now wearing a top hat similar to Abner's sans the bullet holes, the tears, and the weathering, so large it completely hid her horns and animal ears.

Weiss stared blankly at her.

“Pretty clever, right?” Ruby asked, waggling her eyebrows again.

Weiss groaned. “Ruby, that is the most stupid, paper-thin disguise I have ever seen in my entire life! It’s just you with a top hat on, who's going to be fooled by that?!”

Knock-knock.

The door opened.

Blake peered in. “Hey Whyss, hau low d'yu--” her eyes widened, and her ears and tail perked to full attention. “Who'err you?!” she cried as she threw the door open and jumped back in fright, her hands in front of her with her claws out.

Penny rushed in, arms and eyes glowing in warning. “Detecting--!” she paused at the doorway, and blinked a few times. “Oh! Hello, Ruby! I'm sorry, your disguise completely fooled my optic sensors!”

Blake whipped her head back and forth between Ruby and Penny, the horror on her face turning into confusion. <That's Ruby…?!> she whispered.

<It's her,> Weiss said with difficulty.

<My magical aura sensors can not be fooled as easily, Blake,> Penny said.

Blake turned to Ruby. She pulled her top hat on and off several times, showing them how she pulled her ears up and stuffed them and her horns underneath.

Blake just stared at her in ever growing disbelief, her face going through a number of expressions, none of them pleasant.

Qrow came up. <The hell is all this—oh, it's just Ruby and her human disguise, got it.>

Weiss looked at Ruby, then at the Fae crowded in the doorway. “Were you guys SERIOUSLY all fooled by that?”

Qrow, Penny, and Blake nodded.

<Excuse me...> Blake muttered as she walked away in a daze. <I just need to… question everything I thought was true...>

“Blake is currently suffering an existential crisis, and needs some time to pick up the pieces of her shattered perception of what is reality,” Penny translated.

Weiss looked at Ruby, who was now holding the hat in her hands, then back at Qrow and Penny. “Are you all fucking with me right now?!”

“I am not trying to deceive you in any way, Weiss,” Penny replied.

“She got me bad the first time she showed it off to me,” Qrow said. “You're probably not freaking out because you two are so close you can always tell it's her in a heartbeat.”

Weiss gritted her teeth. “Never mind… now, before I have to wonder who are these 'mysterious humans' wearing the same costumes as my friends, what are Blake and Penny's disguises like?”

“Blake ties a bow over her ears, and I have a headband with slots cut in to look like my ears are a novelty accessory,” Penny replied.

Weiss stared at her, then at Ruby, unable to speak.

Blake walked back in the doorway, one hand rubbing her temples. <Weiss: how low do you want your skirts?> she asked, her other hand making a line back and forth across her thighs.

Weiss got up off her hammock. <I'll just show you...> she replied in broken Actaeon.

Later that night, Blake finished their costumes, and Weiss' wardrobe had been modified more to her taste: the skirts cut higher over her knees, some with the sleeves and most of the topmost sections removed entirely, with the leftover fabric turned into decoration, or part of her new jackets, coats, and stockings that helped add some extra protection from the elements, natural or magical.

With a curtain set up in the living room for changing and her comm-crystal as a mirror, Weiss dressed up in her new and modified clothes, then showed them off to the others, going through the whole gamut of everyday wear, gowns and outfits for celebrations and special occasions, working clothes, and even some extreme weather gear in case she’d ever find need to venture out of the Bastion and travel to the rest of the Valley.

“Why in the world would I need a thunder wolf fur coat?” Weiss asked as she nuzzled her face into the soft white fluff around the collar. “I mean, I don’t mind, it’s so fluffy I could die, but isn’t this too warm for the Fury and too heavy for the Flood?”

“There’s places here that you’re going to wish you had it if you don't already,” Ruby said. “You might not ever need to go down to the Coldburrow Caverns, but hey: never hurts to be prepared!”

“I've never heard of any place that cold anywhere here in Acropolis,” Weiss replied.

“Plenty of secrets in the Valley, Weiss,” Qrow said. “Lots of them we’re still trying to figure out.”

“If you say so,” Weiss said, shrugging the coat off as she was already beginning to sweat in it.

The impromptu fashion show ended with her Eve of the Ether costume.

Blake had taken all manner of liberties with the design, both because Weiss weaver’s coat was armour first and foremost, and no one thought she would look good with the most popular—and as Weiss' learned then, accurate—depiction of Samaria:

Crouched low to the ground, a repeater in one hand and a hookshot-dagger in the other, both loaded with potent poisons that would ruin the days of anything short of a Soul Eater, with her hood thrown over her head, and only the emerald eyes and “fangs” of her Gila Monster mask peering out from under it.

Weiss’ version was much more regal and dignified: standing proud with Myrtenaster in one hand and her gauntlet in the other; her hair left untied and flowing out from her hood and down her shoulders in carefully brushed locks; her belt of mediums and equipment tied around her waist; and a slit in the front of her dress, with enchanted steel-silk stockings to compensate for the exposure, and some risque elements to it.

Completing the look was her weaver's mask, now modified to look like a mischievous and sinister fox, the eyes an icy blue, and a voice modulator just like the one Ruby had in hers.

She checked herself out for far longer than all the other outfits, making sure that everything was perfect—you never got a second chance at a first impression, after all.

“Come on, princess!” Qrow called out. “Night shift’s coming soon!”

“Yeah, let us see, let us see!” Ruby added.

Weiss sighed, and shut off her crystal. She supposed she had done everything she could… except…

From the outside, the others watched as a cool, frosty mist started to pour out from under the curtain, before Weiss threw it aside, and the fog rushed out to the others. She stepped out with slow, measured strides, thin layers of ice on her clothes glimmering like jewelry.

Ruby’s jaw dropped.

Weiss smiled as she stepped up to her, carefully put Myrtenaster under her chin, and pushed it back up.

“You’ve got a little something...” she hummed as she daintily tapped the side of her mask, her voice coming out husky, with an unnerving, ethereal echo—a sound that’d send a chill down your spine and a very different sort of shiver elsewhere.

“Holy hell...” Qrow muttered. “Should I start calling you Ice Queen instead, princess?”

The eyes of Weiss’ mask twinkled. “Whatever pleases you, peasant,” she purred.

Qrow chuckled. “Well alright then, your majesty.”

Blake smiled and hummed in pride, giving her two thumbs up.

Penny beamed. “You look very intimidating and attractive, Weiss!”

“You guys really think so...?”

“Hell yeah!” Ruby said, a line of drool still running down the side of her mouth. “You look hot, Weiss!”

Weiss felt her face heat up. “Thanks... but could you hold back on the compliments when we're in public? I don’t want things to get... weird.”

“What’s so weird about me telling you how good you look...?”

“People might think we’re actually a couple, when it’s just our costumes,” Weiss replied. “And before any of you ask: I only agreed to this because it’d be cheaper and easier for Blake, alright?” she said, pointing Myrtenaster at the others.

After Penny translated, all of them nodded.

“Glad we got that cleared up,” Weiss said, before she dispelled her magic, and took off her mask. “Hey, Ruby? Can we talk some more in our room?”

“Sure!” Ruby said, getting up off the couch. “But better make it quick, most of us are leaving for the night shift soon!” she said as she headed there.

“I’ll skip changing until after, then,” Weiss said as she followed after her.

Qrow waited until the door to their room was shut. When it didn’t look like either of them were stepping out soon, he turned to the others, and whispered, <Is Weiss fucking with us, or does she just have one of the most impressive cases of denial I have ever seen in my entire life?>

<It feels like there's some sadistic author teasing us with Unresolved Sexual Tension for as long as they possibly can,> Blake grumbled.

<The disconnect between what my sensors detect, the evidence I have on record, and what she claims to believe is indeed jarring,> Penny said. <But didn’t her father also take quite a while to realize he was really more interested in Summer than Raven?>

<That was with my sister distracting him, and as far as I know, there isn’t anyone else trying to melt the Ice Queen’s heart,> Qrow replied. <Well, unless I missed one or the both of you making your own moves...>

Blake wrinkled her nose. <Ugh. I am DONE with romance for a LONG while, until I’m sure I won’t make such a horrible mistake ever again...>

<For a variety of reasons, I’m not romantically interested in Weiss, either,> Penny replied. <Besides, she’s really not my ‘type.’>

Meanwhile, in Ruby and Weiss' room...

“Could you give me a minute to gather my thoughts?” Weiss asked as she put away her mask and equipment.

“Sure!” Ruby replied. “I’ll just be in my nest.”

“Thanks,” Weiss replied.

She had thought that she’d have a well-articulated, thoughtful speech all ready to go by the time she put away her mediums in a locked box, but she still had absolutely nothing by the time she sat down in front of Ruby.

A long, awkward silence passed as they just looked at each other, Weiss fidgeting and feeling her face grow warm.

There were so many things she could have asked her to lead up to her actual question, make the transition smoother.

She could have asked how she felt about everyone assuming she and her were a couple and getting intimate (and on a regular basis, no less), how she felt about learning that Weiss was a lesbian, too, and how she felt about everyone but Zwei walking on them in compromising situations.

She could have asked why she so readily offered to snuggle with her to make her feel better, what she really thought when she noticed Weiss’ more interesting reactions to her massaging her, why she lent her the Summer plushie even if it was obviously as precious to her as the Eluna plushie was to her.

She could have even tried to get some more information straight from the source, asked her why if human/Fae relationships were such a taboo for the rest of their society, why was everyone so unquestionably supportive and enthusiastic of them, just because Ruby was the Keeper?

“You want to try this again tomorrow morning, Weiss?” Ruby asked. “I really need to get ready soon.”

“Do you like me?” Weiss blurted. “As in, do you want me to be your girlfriend? Hold hands in public, and kiss, and...” she tried to make a sexy animal noise.

Ruby snickered.

Weiss frowned and blushed.

“Sorry.”

“Well?” Weiss asked. “Do you...?”

“Yes,” Ruby replied.

Weiss blinked. “… What do you mean, ‘Yes’?” she asked, her cheeks burning brighter red.

“I mean, ‘Yes,’ I like you, I want to be your girlfriend, I want to hold your hand in public, kiss you, and--” she made a sexy animal noise--”with you.”

Weiss stared at her, mouth slowly falling open.

“I'm being completely honest with you, Weiss, because I really, really, really like you, and more than that, I hate lying,” Ruby said before she got up and went to the equipment rack.

“If Aunt Raven hadn’t lied to dad, if dad hadn’t lied to mom, and if Uncle Qrow hadn’t lied to the Council and the other Watchers, then maybe they wouldn’t be dead, and he wouldn’t have had to raise me alone all these years,” she said as she put her cloak on.

She picked up the Keeper’s mask, currently wrapped up in a magic-proof cloth. “And besides: I’ve watched enough holos to know that whenever someone is attracted to someone else, and they decide to keep it a secret, it just makes things all weird and awkward between them, and they all find out in the end, especially when it’s going to make things even weirder and more awkward between them than if they just came clean in the first place.”

Ruby picked up her scythe, then turned to Weiss. “Why would you even do that to yourself...?”

“...”

“I need to go, Weiss,” Ruby said, as she opened the door. “Good night.”

“… Good night, Ruby...” Weiss muttered, long after the door had closed behind her.

Penny was the only one left in the house with Weiss, and the two of them busied themselves with picking up and hauling her clothes both old and new into her and Ruby's room.

“I'm detecting a higher than normal level of stress hormones in your system, and a dramatic downwards shift in your mood beside, Weiss,” she said as they worked. “Is something the matter?”

“Yeah...” Weiss replied. “I… really need to ask Ruby to build some trunks or wardrobes one of these days, this place is a mess...”

Penny frowned, clearly unconvinced, before she nodded and said, “I'll inform her for you, and see what materials we can spare for it.”

“Thanks, Penny,” Weiss said.

Penny left to maintain herself before charging up in preparation for tomorrow. Weiss spent a long time laying in her hammock, gently rocking back and forth, the Summer plushie left in Ruby’s nest. Eventually, she fell asleep and found herself back in the dreamscape.

This night, it was just the blank white expanse.

Her grandparents walked up from behind, Nick put a rough, calloused hand on her shoulder. “You want to talk about it, sweetheart?” he asked.

“No...” Weiss replied. “Grandpa, grandma? Can you guys please leave? I... need to be alone right now...”

They nodded somberly.

“Call if you need us, we’ll be around,” Nick said, before walked away, and faded into nothing.

“We love you, Weiss—no matter what happens,” Freya said, before she did the same.

Now all alone, Weiss sat down, and began to think.

#rwby #the keeper of the grove #fanfic #white rose

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