#that boy did not take care of his teeth growin up

[victim9d]

turning tate into a self insert (i think he should have dentures)

[babbushka]

Hello my beautiful friend! I’m super emo about the “I’ve loved you all my life” from the friends to lovers list. Just picturing Clyde saying that to me? I’m dead. Love you so much! ✨❤️

11, The thought of Clyde coming in home sweaty during the summer after a hard day, his hair tied up, exhausted and needy?? PLEASEE 🧎‍♀️

(2.1k, fluff & NSFW (handjobs, fingering, come-shot, messy sloppy sweaty outdoor semi-nudity/indecent exposure lol)

When Clyde’s heavy footfalls creak onto the front porch, you have to throw a concerned glance at the clock hangin’ up on the wall. He’s ain’t even been here for an hour, you had just put down the big tray of ice cold lemonade and fresh made sandwiches, surely he can’t be leavin’ already?

You turn to look at him when he pats one of the support beams of your porch, and your heart races, because no no no, you’d just started to settle in and watch him cut your lawn, watch him get all sweaty and glistening in the sun, you don’t want him to go yet.

“All finished darlin’.” His deep voice is shy as he pulls the trucker cap off his head, runs his fingers through his hair. He’s smilin’, and you don’t know why, when him bein’ finished means he’s leavin’.

“Wait really? Already?” You protest just about right away, and that smile only grows wider, more confident. It’s a good look on him, on Clyde, a real good look.

“It’s real hot out there today, I figured I’d finish up quick as I can so…” Clyde shrugs, looks away and scratches the back of his neck.

“So?” You encourage, unprepared for the heat behind his eyes when he replies,

“So I could come over here and be with you.”

Clyde has been mowin’ your lawn ever since y’all were teenagers. You two were childhood best friends and you’re pretty sure that Clyde’s the only boy you’ve ever held onto after all these years. All the other ones turned into asshole preteens and even meaner adults, so slowly one by one you cut them out of your life, blamin’ growin’ apart. You and Clyde never grew apart, and in fact, the years have been good to y’all, made you grow together instead.

It’s been about fifteen years since he started comin’ over on Sunday mornings, strikin’ up a deal with your folks to mow your lawn for some honest cash. Especially after the stint in juvie, Clyde felt it was the most important thing in the world to prove to them he was a decent man, one worthy of spendin’ your time with.

Even when you moved out of your parents’ house and got a little home of your own – a home closer to Clyde’s own trailer no less – he kept comin’ to cut your lawn. He stopped acceptin’ your money, and instead traded that for payment of lunch.

But recently…he ain’t even been eatin’ your lunch. Just a glass of lemonade and then back home he would go, these past few weeks. It had started to break your heart, why he was actin’ so strange, so distant. Clyde ain’t distant now, not with how he’s standing on your porch.

“You look thirsty.” You swallow around a suddenly dry throat of your own, blinkin’ real fast when he clears his throat and nods.

“I’m parched, baby.” Clyde replies, and something, something about that does something to you. It gets your hopes up, gets your heart racin’, because he’d called you a lot of thing over the years, but never that.

“Call me baby again.” You say, standin’ up from the porch swing, taking a step closer to him.

Clyde follows you, takes the invitation and strides across the porch until he’s merely inches from your face.

“Baby,” Clyde presses his good hand up to your cheek, rubs his thumb along the ridge of your cheekbone, “Baby girl. You’re so beautiful.”

“Am I dreamin’?” You blurt out, but Clyde only chuckles, the most handsome sound in the world.

He kisses you, instead of answering.

You had thought a million times, about what it would be like to kiss Clyde, and none of them ever could’ve amounted up to this; to the sweet salty tang of sweat on his tongue, his goatee soaked through and scratching against your smile, his eyelashes brushing against your cheek where his eyes are closed, his arms wrapped around you tight.

He makes the softest sweetest sounds when he kisses you, grunts and groans low in his throat as he backs you up up up against the wall of your house. Your arms have wound themselves around his neck, and you could cry – maybe you are crying – because if this is a dream, well it’s one you don’t ever want to wake up from.

“Touch me.” You demand, because you’ve wanted to say it for so long, and he’s quick, so quick to oblige.

Clyde hikes up your breezy skirt enough so that he can shove his hand underneath your panties, and he groans when he finds your pussy already slick, already wet and wantin’ him. Of course it wanted him, all of you did, have been for the past however many years you’ve been pinin’ for him.

One of your legs immediately lifts to hook around his waist, and he swallows your moans when those fingers of his wriggle between your folds and push up into your cunt, your head thudding back against the wall. He sucks on the expanse of your throat, bites and bruises it.  

“Ah – ah, Clyde, oh that feels good.” You breathe, careful not to be too loud. You’re outside, right there on the front porch, and even though you got some pretty trees to shade the house and give some cover, ain’t nothin’ was there to stop the noises y’all made.

“Damn darlin’, I wish…wish I had both hands to touch ya with.” Clyde kisses you with a frown, his hips rutting against your thigh.

“That’s okay, shh, it’s okay let me, can I…?” You don’t even think about it before you’re poppin’ open the buttons on his jeans, wantin’ to get your hands on him the same way you’ve imagined every night.

Clyde nods, so eager, lickin’ his lips and suckin’ the sweat off your cheek when it rolls down to your jaw. You pull out his cock and damn it’s big, even bigger than you imagined, you feel dizzy, feel overheated, overwhelmed in the best possible way.

Spitting into your palm, you slick up his cock and stroke him up and down up and down, firm grip twisting right at the head and makin’ his knees buckle. He braces himself against you, moves his fingers in time with yours, rubs lazy circles at your clit and crooks three of his huge fingers inside you, searchin’ for that spot he knows will make you come.

“That’s real good baby, y-you can go faster if you’d like.” Clyde kisses you and kisses you and kisses you, and you gasp and moan and sigh around his tongue, mindful of the noise, but consumed with pleasure. He’s smelly, covered in bits of grass and sweat, and you wouldn’t trade it for anythin’ in the whole world.

“I’m burnin’ up in this thing Clyde I-I’m gonna take it off.” You pant, your blouse stiflin’ from the lack of breeze.

Clyde does pause then, making you whine loud enough for him to smile at you and keep goin’ real slow.

“Out here?” He asks, lookin’ around. The big trees block the view from the neighbors, but that don’t mean no one could drive by, or walk their dogs, or or or --

“Uh-huh, would you like that? Wanna see my tits in the sunshine?” You bite your lip, bat your lashes at him, wantin’ him so desperately. You don’t know if a chance like this will ever come again, you don’t know when you’ll wake up from this dream, you want to take advantage of it while it’s here.

“Anyone could see, anyone could look and see you.” Clyde nods anyway, and his eyes go wide as dinner plates when you swiftly undo all the little buttons, down to where your blouse is tucked into the skirt that Clyde’s got his hand shoved up under. Your bra is front-claspin’, and you undo that too, until your breasts are exposed fully for him.

“Then you’re gonna have to cover me big bear, cover me – yes!” Your eyes fall shut and your mouth drops open, grindin’ your hips down onto his hand.

“Ohh fuck,” Clyde’s fingers up your pussy fuck you a little harder, a little faster, and you grin, wrappin’ your hand around his cock once again and matching his rhythm stroke for stroke.

You’re both so sweaty that you have to constantly readjust yourselves against the wall of your house so that you don’t go slippin’ and slidin’ down. Clyde looks like he’s almost in pain, so overwhelmed with the way you feel, how your pussy clenches and drips and drools all over his hand, his wrist.

He sucks and kisses at your breasts, licks up the sweat that runs between them, your nipples so sensitive and stiff when he tugs them between his teeth. You want him to fuck you properly, want him to shove that cock of his into your pussy and fuck you on the wooden floor of the porch right there, but he grunts and sighs and groans, pressin’ his body as close against yours as he can.

“I’m gonna come,” He whines, not wantin’ it to be over just as much as you, not wantin’ this to end.

“On me, I want it on me, all over. Please give it to me, please?” You beg, soft gentle whimpers as you hike your leg up higher higher higher, until it’s slung over his shoulder, your body stretched out all over.

He nods frantically, before he lets out a shaky moan and paints your tits with his come. It’s hot and sticky, landing on your skin in thick ropes. Your hand that isn’t around his cock leaves Clyde’s hair and rubs through it, smears it into your flesh, across your stomach, over your tits. He has a big load, comes some more, it hits your chin, and you swipe it up with your fingers, sucking the taste of it away.

“A-are you close?” Clyde blinks the sweat out of his eyes, rubs harder, faster, thrusts and presses and pinches and rolls and your lids are snappin’ open just in time to watch him stare love-sick at you, big brown eyes.

“Yes, yes I’m – oh I’m – !!” You come and it feels like your body is on fire, a hot wire snapped up, pulled real taut, before you’re meltin’ into his arms, chest heavin’, pantin’ out words that you never thought you’d get to say in a million years, “I love you, Clyde – fuck I love you!”

All at once, he goes real still.

“What?” Clyde blinks, lookin’ like he’s been struck by lightnin’.

He carefully, gently, lowers the leg that’s been thrown over his shoulder.

“I’ve loved you all my life.” You’re still blissed out, still on cloud nine, have no qualms about bein’ truthful, not with your Clyde, not when now you ain’t so sure this isn’t a dream. “Surely…well surely you knew that.”

“I…no I – ” He stammers and stutters and the cold drip of rejection begins to fill you with dread.

“Shit, I’m sorry I – ” You’re painfully aware of the way you’re both standin’ there on your front porch, your tits out and his dick out, covered in come and sweat and you feel like you’ve just royally monumentally ruined everythin’, until he looks at you.

Really looks at you.

“I love you too.” Clyde confesses, and suddenly it’s as if all the fear in the world leaves at once.

“You do?” You whisper, searchin’ his gaze and findin’ only honesty.

Clyde smiles, one of those rare smiles o’his, and tucks your blouse back into place, puts his dick away and buttons himself up.

“Why d’ya think I kept agreein’ to cut your lawn?” Clyde asks softly, so quietly, and you’re slammed with the realization that maybe…maybe he’s loved you for just as long.

“Thought I made real good lemonade, that’s all.” You reply, and the two of you laugh, because damn, how could love make y’all so blind? With the glow of orgasm fading, and the reality of this bein’ real life setting in, you reach for Clyde’s hand askin’, “What do you suppose we do now?”

“I don’t know about you darlin’, but I’m in sore need of a shower.” He says, smilin’ at you and makin’ you smile right back, before squeezin’ your hand and sighin’ real content-like, “And after that…let me love on you some more, and make up for lost time.”

You kiss him, and he kisses you back, until you’re pullin’ him into your house and up through to your bathroom, more glad than you’ve ever been that he finished cuttin’ your lawn early.

[diddlesanddoodles]

DEAD WALLS RISE - CH 5

ATTENTION: This chapter occurs during the events of ch 47 of Dumpling and therefore contains spoilers. If you have not not read that chapter or have not caught up to that point, this will not make much sense and I strongly urge you to wait until you are caught up before continuing with this chapter.   

The fear was always the first thing to hit. Like a gust of wind, it swept him away until all he could perceive of the world was a small pinprick of light and the only sound was his own breathing and the only physical sensation was the frantic beating of his own heart. He never heard Nenani call his name or felt her hand on his shoulder. He did not notice when Keral pulled him bodily from his seat and carried him from the great hall. Perhaps that was better. He may have died from embarrassment right then and there if he had possessed enough presence of mind to understand.

“Remember what Yaesha told ye,” Keral’s voice said, penetrating the thick fog of his mind. “Just breathe. Slower now, lad. In and out.” He could feel more than hear Keral’s own breathing and he slowed his to match the ranger’s. “That’s it. Come on back now, lad.”

He felt Keral’s large fingers lightly tapping the side of his head, just enough to jerk him back to attention and ever so slowly the world came back into focus and he was no longer in the great hall, but a side garden and sitting on a stone bench. The night air bit at his face and he felt the cold stone under him, the chill seeping into the fabric of his pants and onto his skin. Keral was kneeling down in front of him and peering into his face, green eyes studying his own blue ones. “Back with me yet?”

He nodded mutely and Keral stood to take a seat on the bench beside him. “Scared the lass pretty good. Don’t think she’s ever seen one of yer fits before.”

Jae didn’t respond, feeling shamed and mortified.

“Go on and tell me what set ye off.”

His hands were clenched hard enough to hurt and he could feel the muscles in his neck and shoulders pull tight. “…you know what.”

Keral did not reply right away. Instead, he reached behind his back to pull out his pipe and a small pouch of tobacco. He stuffed the bowl and just as he struck a match, he said, “Tell me anyway.”

“I can’t…I’m not…why would he…?” He could almost feel the fit trying to begin afresh and he steadied his breathing again, trying to keep it at bay. When he was sure it had passed, he ran his fingers through his hair, gripping fistfuls of it and staring at the pitted stone under him. “I can’t do this Keral.”  

The larger man beside him took a moment to puffed idly at his pipe, plumes of grey smoke drifting upwards to obscure the stars peeking down at them from the open courtyard.

“And why not?” he asked.

“I’m not a prince,” Jae replied exasperated. “I can’t…do all that stuff.”

With a short huff of a laugh, the ranger shook his head. “Yer a fuckin’ idiot, you know that boy?”

With a growl, Jae punched Keral’s thigh hard, and shot back, “Dammit, I’m being serious!”

“So am I,” Keral grunted. He leaned over just enough to pin Jae with one eye. “Just what do ye think yev been this whole time? Hm?”

“…an idiot, like you said. A spoiled idiot. A brat,” Jae replied lowly. “I don’t want to be a prince. I only…” A long pause. “I just wanted…so badly for…for Warren…to see me like I saw him.”

Keral shook his head. “Thought you two figured that mess out weeks ago.”

“…I thought so, but…” Jae sighed. “Nothing’s changed.”

“Not followin’ ye.”

Jae felt like his chest was gonna rupture and his eyes burned with frustrated tears. In a low voice, he choked out, “…I’m not his son, Keral.”

“Bullshit ye ain’t!” Keral snapped, glowering down at him. The degree of vehemence from him was enough to startle Jae and he shook his head.  

“…I can’t be.”

Keral leaned down further, enough to cast Jae in shadow. “And who th’fuck says?”

He couldn’t meet the ranger’s critical gaze. “…you heard them in there.”

“Since when did ye give a right shit about what Eldherst and Tendle thought of ye?”

How Jae wished he had some snarky quip to throw back, anything to offer distraction, but all he had was what he knew was true but was too scared to admit to himself. Let alone aloud. The lords were right. He wasn’t Warren’s son and never could be. He’d been fooling himself all this time, playing at make believe. A fallacy they could continue within the castle where Warren’s power could shield him, but beyond the walls of the keep…

…the world would never let him be Warren’s son.  

“Because even if all that load ‘a tripe were true,” Keral continued, poking Jae’s shoulder with the butt of his pipe. “Why would Warren wanna adopt ye if didn’t mean nothin’ to him?”

Jae was silent. He didn’t want to start crying in front of Keral.    

“It ain’t about makin’ ye a prince fer the hell of it. It’s about makin’ ye his son. In the eyes of the law. All that other nonsense is just a consequence of yer Dad being a King. Ain’t like he’s puttin’ ye in the line of succession.”

“But still…”

Keral shifted again and rose to his feet to stand in front of the bench. He planted both hands on either side of Jae to loom above him, his pipe clenched in his teeth. In a quiet voice, he said, “Warren loves ye lad. Been takin’ care of ye all these years hasn’t he?”

“…yes.”

“And ye think of ‘im like yer Dad, don’t ye?”

“…y-yes,” Jae said, his words shuttering.

“Then why question it?”

“…I don’t want to cause him any problems,” Jae admitted and Keral laughed, the sound of it loud in his ears. He removed his pipe and sat it down onto the bench.

“Far too late fer that, Pup. Yer ‘a walkin’ disaster.”

Jae almost smiled. It had been years since Keral had called him that. Like so many of those employed at the castle, he had taken to calling him brat; a nickname Jae had rightly earned not long after hitting puberty. Somehow, with Keral using his first nickname for him made Jae feel a little better. It was almost a term of endearment.

“Me being an embarrassment as his ward is one thing,” Jae said. “But as his son…it’s a little harder to ignore. Or forgive.”

“If Rosanna of fuckin’ Ibronia could manage to accept ye,” Keral said flatly. “Why the fuck can’t ye accept yerself? Of course yer gonna make mistakes. Yer still a damn kid. Ye still have a few years left of ye bumblin’ around in the dark before ye figure out how to light a damn match.”

Jae raised his head to meet Keral’s gaze and squinted at him in confusion. “…what?”

“Ye still have a lot to learn,” Keral translated. “They call ‘em growin’ pains fer a reason. Fer some, it’s more painful than fer others.” A pause. “Ever stop and think there was a reason fer Warren makin’ ye Assistant Steward?”  

“To keep me out of trouble,” Jae replied with a shrug. “What else?”

“Well, yeah. That’s what happens when ye have a kid too smart fer his own good and with too much liberty as his disposal. But it ain’t only that. He gave ye responsibilities because he knew ye’d be able to handle it. And ye have. We both know Donal wasn’t always yer biggest fan, but somehow ye managed to wiggle yerself into his good graces. That’s gotta be worth something. Been tryin’ to do that fer almost twenty years, still haven’t managed it myself.”

“I just sit around and take notes or deliver messages for him and…I don’t really do anything. I just…watch.”

“And listen. Ever stop to think that maybe that was the point? Ye learn from watchin’. Hell, Pup, yer a damn sponge when it comes to all that shit. Ye’v got a decent head fer politics after watchin’ Warren all these years. And he knows it. Yer more ready fer this than yer willin’ to give yerself credit fer.”  

“Doesn’t feel like it,” said the human, running a hand through his hair. “How the hell does it make sense to make me a prince? I’m not even Vhasshalan. And did you see some of their faces? Some of them were and still are Baynor supporters.” He pulled his knees up to his chest and rested his chin down onto them. “Probably wishing the fucker did eat me…”

“Well he didn’t. And Warren’s makin’ ye a prince. So the only thing ye should be asking yerself is what do ye do now. Sittin’ and mopin’ about it ain’t doin ye any favors. Never has. All the time yer spend on the roof, what has it ever done fer ye? Eh? Not a damn thing. Warren wants to make ye his son officially. Not just some vague understandin’ between yerselves. That should tell ye all ye need to know, Pup.”

“…what if I can’t do it, though?”

“Ye ain’t scared of not being able to do it. Yer scared of disappointing yer Dad.”

Jae hung his head. “…because I’m a coward.”

“Now I’ve known plenty of cowards in my time. And there’s plenty ‘a things I could call ye,” Keral said. He laid his hand against Jae’s back, fingers curling around his shoulders. “But a coward ain’t one of ‘em.”

“I’m scared…all the time. And there doesn’t even need to be anything wrong. How does that not make me a coward? I freeze up and have these fits and I have to drink that disgusting tea just to have a chance to function and I…I don’t know what’s wrong with me.”

“I know exactly what’s wrong with ye,” Keral told him seriously, green eyes seeming to bore holes through him. “It’s called surviving a war. Survivor’s guilt.”

“What?” Jae asked.

“What yer feelin’. S’called survivor’s guilt. Saw it plenty during my own deployment. Men comin’ back from battle without half their company. Wonderin’ why the fella next to him was dead and he wasn’t. Same as you. Ye’ve had it fer years. Since we found ye out in the moor.” He paused. “All yer family and friends never left that pond. But ye did. And ye’ve let that guilt fester inside ye and it comes out in yer nightmares and in these fits ‘a yers.”

Every muscle in his body felt tense and unyielding. He hated what Keral was saying and wished he would stop. He was too tired to do this now. He didn’t want to…

“Ye never talk about ‘em. Yer folks,” Keral said quietly. Gently. “Don’t know a thing about ‘em. ‘Cept yer Dad’s name and trade. Never hear ya speak about yer Mum.”

“It hurts too much. Even now,” Jae said, already feeling the tears dripping down his chin. “If I try to remember her face…”

“Ye never dealt with all that pain of losin’ ‘em. As young as ye were when ye did. Now yer panickin’ that yet might be losing Warren. In a different way. But losin’ ‘im all the same. ‘Cept this time no one’s takin’ anythin’ from ye, Pup. Yer takin’ it from yerself.”

Finally, Jae broke. His shoulders began to shake as a racking sob bubbled up from his throat. For several minutes, he just cried and let all the hurt and fear and regret and guilt pour out of himself. When finally, he had no more to give, he quieted. Sniffling and in a thick voice, he mumbled, “I’m such an idiot…”

Keral laughed. “Oh, ye don’t need to tell me that, lad. Known it fer years.”

Jae raised his head to glare at the ranger. “…Anyone ever tell you that your pep talks suck?”

“All the time,” he said with a satisfied grin. He patted Jae on the back and motioned for him to stand. “Come on now. Enough sulkin’. On yer feet.”

His legs and arms felt twice as heavy and his temples throbbed. Gods did he need a drink. He wobbled on his feet, but once he’d steadied himself, Jae looked back at Keral expectantly. The ranger crouched back down so he and Jae were on the same level and was regarding him with a serious expression.

“Yer a smart boy, Jae,” he said, laying his arms onto bench and leaning forward. “And Warren adores ye. It’s true that it’s no small thing fer ye to be adopted by the King of Vhasshal. Ain’t sayin’ yer gonna have an easy time of it. But fer what’s it’s worth, I think yer gonna be pretty damn good at it.”

For a moment, Jae simply stared at the ranger, emotions swirling inside of him, before he dropped his gaze to stare at his feet for several moments. He took a step and then another and pressed his head against Keral’s shoulder. He sniffed, trying to keep himself from falling into tears again. A large hand came to rest against his back, rubbing lightly.

“Oi,” Keral said gently, a smile in his tone. “Don’t be gettin’ yer snot all over my good jerkin now. S’the only one I got.”

Despite the roiling emotions inside him, Jae laughed. “I’ll get you a new one. Princes get allowances don’t they?”

Keral chuckled. “That’d be a question fer yer Dad.”

Before Jae could speak, from within the great hall, they heard a horrible shriek and he jumped in” surprise. “What the –?”

Keral was on his feet, looking towards the large stained glass windows and listening. There was another shriek from inside and then many voices all at once calling out in shock or surprise. The lone lantern near the other end of the garden began to glow.

“Well, fuck...” Keral growled. He turned towards one corner of the garden where two guards were standing post, both staring dumbly at the lantern, and he called out to them, “Guards to the hall!”

The two guards started, looking at Keral and then seeming to recall themselves, took up their swords and called out behind them, ostensibly to more guards, “All guards to the hall!”

There were several calling answers and in a matter of mere moments, guards from all over seemed to be spilling from corridors and breezeways and into the small garden and then into the hall. From the red of their leather armor, Jae could see a spot of black fighting against the tide of so many bodies.  

“Donal!” Keral called out to the man as he struggled to get through. “What in the seven hells is goin’ on in there?”

“Keral!” Donal said, waving at him and struggling to catch his breath as he broke free of the throng. “Get Master Jae to safety! The Smoke Mage, he’s in the hall.”

“What?” Keral asked.

Donal scowled at the ranger. “Didn’t you hear me, dammit? Your King’s orders are to get Master Jae to safety! Now man, damn you!”

Before Jae had a moment to say anything, Keral grabbed him up and was running.

“Wait! What about everyone else?” Jae asked, gripping the fabric of Keral’s jerkin. “Warren is still inside. And Nenani!”

“Warren said to get ye to safety and that’s what I’m gonna do,” Keral told him.

“But –!”

“No arguing with me now,” Keral barked. “My big ol’ speech is gonna be nothin’ but a waste of time if that fucker gets his hands on ye again.”

He took a side corridor and slipped down a flight of stone steps. Near the bottom was an old and unassuming wooden door and Keral went inside. He sat Jae down onto his feet before ruffling inside his back pouch for his matches. He struck one and lit a candle sitting on a broken stool off to the side.

“You’ll stay here till it’s safe,” Keral said as he grabbed a folded blanket from the shelf and setting it on the floor near the back wall. “Just keep quiet till I get back, here me?”

“But what about –?”

“No arguing with me I said,” Keral snapped. “Trust me to do my job, Pup. Stay here and stay quiet.”

Jae nodded. “O-okay.”

Keral rose to his feet and pulled the door closed as he slipped out. There in the dark, Jae listened to beating of his own heart before making his way over to the folded blanket and sitting down. Rubbing his still splinted arm, Jae could not help but worry for everyone inside the hall. He thought of Warren and tried to convince himself that the guards would never allow anything to happen to the King.

He thought of Nenani.

Pushing himself back against the wall, he drew his knees up to his chest and watched for a moment as the candle’s warm glow sent the shadows around the room dancing. He felt another panicked wave begin to take hold deep inside and he pressed his forehead to his knees and began to breath. Deep even breathes. Like he had been taught.  

One…

Two…

Three...

[valkyrieofsmut]

Captive Love   4

UF!Sans x Reader (or Frisk if you wanna)

Summary: It's a tense first night...

A/N: Oh boy, another chapter! It took a lot of restraint to keep myself from just publishing everything I've written so far, but, even though I really would love some feedback, I want to keep the release schedule at least a little consistent! Lol.

Masterlist      Series Masterlist

Story

Cute when you're nervous.

(Y/n) stood in Sans' room, holding a pair of black basketball shorts and a black tank top. She was pretty sure that he only had oversized basketball shorts to wear after seeing into his drawer, but at least he'd been able to find a pair from when he was smaller, probably younger. 

"here ya go, sweetheart," he told her with a grin as he set a pair of yellow socks on top of the pile. "knew i had a clean pair 'round here somewhere." He looked away, his cheeks glowing red, just a bit. "i'da, i'd getcha some understuff, too, but, uh… i feel like we don't 'xactly wear th' same kind." 

(Y/n) bit her lip to stop from smiling.  He really is super cute when he’s all flustered.  

She bumped him to make him look at her and rose a brow as if asking, you sure?

Sans chuckled. "i sure 's fuck don't wear-" he paused, his demeanor shifting. "i don't wear anything i'd imagine on you, dollface." 

Aaand the flirting was back. 

(Y/n) actually didn't mind it so much when it was harmless and not as in her face. He was actually a little funny in a dorky kind of way. 

"'k, imma- go brush my teeth or somethin' so ya can get dressed. 'sides, my bro wouldn't let me hear th' end a it if i didn't." 

(Y/n) changed, quickly making everything as well fit as possible so it didn't fall off or shift to show things she didn't want seen if she stood or moved, and climbed under the covers on the bed. 

Sans came back and immediately walked toward the bed as though nothing about the situation was strange. 

(Y/n)'s eyes widened with a bit of panic and she patted the bed frantically until he looked at her, and asked in the best gestures she had if he was sharing the bed with her. 

"it ain't been a problem s'far, doll," he told her. 

She shook her head nervously. 

"sweetheart, listen-” he started calmly, “i might be a lotta things, an' an asshole might be one a 'em," he grinned to her as he admitted it, "but willin' ta share ain't. an' i'm sleepin' in my bed," he told her as he climbed in, pulling the blankets up to his waist. "don't need ta be s'worried 'bout it doll. ya been here three days an' ain't nothin' happened ta ya yet." 

That was true… From what she could tell. 

"an' we both know that if i  had  planned on doin' anythin' to ya when ya were unconscious- wouldn't've been a fuckin' thing ya coulda done about it." 

(Y/n)'s eyes shot to him, but he seemed to just be mentioning it conversationally, as he looked relaxed, fluffing his pillow a little as he laid back on it. 

"'sides, paps an' i shared a bed when we were growin' up. ‘s only weird if ya make it weird."

She rolled over to lay on her side, residual panic sparking before leaving her system. 

He wasn't wrong. She couldn't have stopped anything from happening to her, even if it was as benign as a dog sniffing her. 

She wondered over their situation and just how out of the norm it probably was. 

She had passed out, that much she knew, and a  monster  had taken her, a  human , back to his place, taken care of her when she couldn't do anything for herself, and was keeping her safe. 

A monster keeping a human safe in the middle of monster territory? It was probably unheard of.

It definitely wasn't the best part of town she lived in, or was walking through when she fainted. Who knew what would have happened to her on the sidewalk if he'd just left her there? 

He was… actually being a pretty decent guy, despite the quirks in his behavior that made her a little wary of him. 

Sans laid on his back, head turned to face (Y/n)'s back, wanting to roll closer and hold her close like he had for the last two nights. 

Was it possible to become addicted to something after only two times? 

She felt so good in his arms; soft, calming, safe… but also like it gave him a purpose to take care of her. It was something he hadn't felt in a  long  time.

He saw her arm shift, her hand landing on the mattress between them, in the narrow space it was hard for him to keep. It shifted closer, feeling around like it was looking for something. 

Sans moved his hand closer so hers would run across it, even if that's not what she'd been looking for. 

She took his hand, wrapping her fingers around it and gave it a squeeze. Then another. Saying thanks it seemed like. 

Trepidation stirred in his chest and he hesitated, but then squeezed her hand back and told her, "no problem, sweetheart." 

It must have been the right response, because she took her hand back and shifted to get comfortable to sleep, Sans still watching her. 

Fuck. He was gonna have a bad time tonight. 

.

(Y/n) woke, not wanting to get up, like always. 

Mornings were of the devil… even if they were so pretty… actually that’s probably  why  they were so pretty. 

She tried to roll over and start waking up for work, but there was a force keeping her where she was. She opened her eyes and looked around, remembering that she wasn’t at home, and was, in fact, basically trapped in monster territory with a loud, scary guy and a stranger who was in the same bed as her, and probably had his arm wrapped around her. 

She shifted uncomfortably and felt him shift behind her. 

His arm was over her, around her lower stomach, his other under and around her ribs, face buried in her hair, hips cradling hers as his legs stretched down. And… oh yeah, he had an erection. 

Not that it was making her nervous, no… 

No, it was making her very alarmed, though. 

She never would have thought that he could be this strong- he was a  skeleton , he had no muscles! But there she was, trapped in his arms, unable to get away. 

That was scary enough in and of itself, but there was also the added thing of the erection pressing into her back. 

He was a stranger.

Holding her against him.

His dick heavy and showing what he’d like to do about now...

And she couldn’t escape. 

If she had her voice, her whimper would have been audible. She was glad it wasn’t. One thing she’d learned; don’t show weakness. Any weakness and a predator would attack. 

And Sans? 

He was most definitely a predator. 

“mmmmmm, sweetheart,” he mumbled in his deeper morning voice. His hips bumped against her ass and his hand stroked over her lower belly, just above her panty line. 

(Y/n) felt how stiffly her body had frozen, as though she were afraid to even breathe, but her brain was yelling at her as loudly as it could. 

You idiot! Don’t lay here and take it! Don’t let him think he can do whatever he wants to you! Push him off- smack him- punch him in the miraculously existing dick! Do NOT make up excuses like ‘he’s asleep, he probably doesn’t know what he’s doing’ the more excuses you make the easier you make it for him to take advantage of you!  

“mmmm, sweetheart… ya feel s'soft… smell s'good…” His hips bumped her again. 

Punch him in the dick!  Her brain screamed.

However, her body had its own ideas, and instantly flooded with desire as his hand slid up over her hip, giving it a squeeze. 

“you makin’ my shorts wet, sweetheart?” He asked suggestively, but softly. A sinfully tempting rumble in her ear. 

(Y/n) gave a squeak of a yelp at the proof that he was one hundred percent awake. 

The arm around her ribs tightened a little, pulling her tighter against him. “sorry, doll, i do tend ta get a lil touchy when 'm asleep." His hand ran down her thigh and back up to her hip. "an' y're really pleasant ta touch." He took one last deep breath from her hair and pulled away, climbing from the bed as she continued to lay there in near shock. 

Her tense muscled motionlessness lasted for a few minutes of uncertainty before she felt her muscles starting to relax.

They immediately tensed again when the door opened and Sans spoke, though. 

"doll, i hate ta leave ya here on yer own, but my bro isn't gonna let me skip my rounds t'day. he's, uh, actually a little pissed i been skippin' out th' last couple a days ta take care a ya." 

(Y/n) turned and sat up, looking at him. A garbled noise came out of her throat and she made a frustrated sound at it, then motioned to ask if she could use his phone. 

"sure, doll, lemme know if ya need help talkin'," he chuckled. 

(Y/n) bit her lip and looked up to him, wincing at how she thought she'd be able to communicate with her boss over the phone when she couldn't even get all of her thoughts across to the skeleton in the room with her with full body language and sight cues around. She nodded at him and he sat at the edge of the bed, patting the spot next to him for her to sit there. 

With a silent resigned sigh she sat next to him and dialed the number, pressing the speaker button. 

After a few rings, her boss's voice came over the speaker giving the store introduction. 

Sans looked at her, only to see her gesturing for him to speak. 

"uhhh, you uh, you got a employee there named (y/n)?" He asked. 

Why did hearing him say my name make that shiver run through my belly?  She wondered, feeling a bit of worry for her mental state.

Stalkholm syndrome was a thing...

"I'm sorry, I'm not at liberty to give out personal information about any of the employees working here," her boss answered. 

"oh,  weeell  ," attitude started building in his voice, "i  wuz  callin' ta let ya know why she ain't been there, but if ya don't even know if she works there-" 

"I'm sorry, you have information for me about her?" Her boss asked. 

"ya should be. an' yeah. she uh," he glanced at her again as though asking what he should say, but she just made encouraging gestures again. "she wasn't feelin' too good an' passed out in an alley. luckily, a good samaritan took 'er home ta recover." 

Her boss made an indistinct noise on the other end of the line in the pause between Sans' sentences. 

"uh, only problem now, is that she's kinda stuck… in monster territory." 

"She was kidnapped and taken to monster territory?!" Her boss asked in surprise. 

"wh- nah, she's not kidnapped- s-she was  unconscious-  " Sans told him near frantically, trying to defend himself, worried what (Y/n) would do if she thought he'd kidnapped her. Probably run, and  that  wouldn't help their situation  at all . "w-was tryna help 'er-" 

"Well, if she's in monster territory, she's as good as dead," her boss sighed regretfully. 

"nah, she's safe, she jus' can't get ta work-" 

"Thanks for letting me know," her boss said, cutting him off before the beep of the phone disconnecting sounded. 

Sans stared in disbelief at the phone in his hand for a moment before saying, “whatta fuckin’ moron. couldn’t even listen ta a whole sentence. he always like that?” He asked, looking up to her. 

(Y/n) shrugged and nodded morosely. 

“eeeeeeeeh,” Sans shrugged and stood. “if brains were explosive, some people wouldn’t have enough ta blow their noses!” He crowed and started laughing. He turned back to see (Y/n) silently laughing as well and felt a shot of warmth in his soul, and then a heat wash over his cheekbones. He looked away a little flustered and rubbed the back of his skull. “ah, so doll… i-imma go do my rounds so paps don’t bitch at me, i sh-should be back b-by dinner, um- help yerself t-ta anythin' in th’ fridge, while ‘m gone, though.” Stars, he hated how he stuttered when he got flustered...

(Y/n) grabbed the sleeve of his coat and tugged until he looked at her. She gestured to herself, him, the door and then back to herself followed by the bed. 

Can I come with you and you can take me home?

He was pretty sure that’s what she was asking. 

“sorry, doll, it’s still too dangerous. i’m gonna check around ta see how much attention is on ya, but i gotta go do rounds for that,” he told her. 

She sat with an unreadable expression for a moment, then nodded, seeming to accept his answer. As he was about to turn to go, she tugged on his sleeve again and gestured at him then lifted her hand taller at the side of him. 

“my brotha? he’s goin’ out, too, so ya don’t have ta worry ‘bout ‘im. but…” Sans seemed hesitant about something. He guided her to stand by her arms and rested his hands on her shoulders. “promise me ya won’t leave th’ house. ’s dangerous out there, a-an’ i already spent all this energy savin’ ya- i-it’d be a shame ta have it go ta waste-” His cheekbones were starting to get warm again, and he could see the tiny smile she was trying to hide by nibbling the inside of her lip. “promise me.” 

(Y/n) nodded, holding back the amused smile from his cute blush. 

“good…” He sounded a little relieved, but shifted it to something he felt more comfortable with. “howa ‘bout a g’bye kiss, then?” He asked suggestively with a grin as he leaned in a little closer. 

(Y/n) blanched, leaning back a fraction of an inch before putting her hands against his shoulders and pushing him back. He went easily, though the grin didn’t disappear, and she leaned forward and gave him a small peck on the jaw as a sort of reward for not pushing it. 

She was rewarded with the instant flushing of his cheeks. 

holy fuck, i didn’t think she’d actually do it,  he thought. His blush darkened and his face shifted a bit angrily in his flustered state and he saw her tongue poking out at him. 

He lifted a brow ridge and leaned in closer so that her nose almost brushed his nasal ridge, then opened his mouth and carefully took her tongue between his teeth, turning his head to tug it back and forth.  

The look of surprise that had appeared on her face was reward enough, but the flush that flowed over her oh so soft skin and the way her breath sped up just a little made him even more invested in teasing her. 

His hands went to her waist and drifted down to her hips, pulling her body within an inch of his before he let her tongue go and ducked his head to let his breath brush over her throat, feeling particularly accomplished when he noticed her nipples pressing stiffly against her shirt. “much fun as this is, sweetheart, 'm gonna have ta go, b’fore ya convince me ta jus’ stay here an’ play wit ya all day,” he told her. 

(Y/n) felt her cheeks heating more and she nodded, giving a small wave as he stepped back. 

“i’ll see ya fer dinner, sweetheart. stay inside,” he told her before going out through the door.

“fuck,” he muttered to himself when it’d closed. “my cock’s never gonna get a break from bein’ stiff… hang in there, buddy,” he encouraged as he looked down at it.

[rcris123]

This mess keeps on spinning them, keeps on going and going and going. And he’s growin’ afraid. So terribly afraid of what’s there yet to come; for Isaac, for them all. And this whole thing where Dutch keeps pushing when they just barely escaped the end of a rope feels foolish and impatient.

They’re dying...

And what better metaphor for that than picking up a dying Sebastian off the side of the road after they stole the Mayor’s letters and were planning to rob a bank and some high stakes poker game.

They got the man upstairs, back at Shady Belle. And what a debacle that was. He had to let Isaac handle it, while the rest of them got to bringing Jack back. Yeah, Charles was with him, and there was only 4 squatters left, but Christ... They moved ‘cause the Pinkertons came through again, knowin’ their location. Him and John was robbing cemeteries for Stefano Valentini and Dutch talked off Agent Milton who was ready to bring no less than 50 men to mow the lot of ‘em down.

Then in 2 days Tilly got stolen away and Isaac insisted he ride along. Tilly ain’t much older than him... They played dominoes together; Isaac tried and made her a dolly once... And to see the boy unhinged like that.

He apologized.

Arthur put his hands on the boy’s shoulders: “I just want you to be better than I was, Isaac.”

Boy looked down, away. A lil’ shake.

“You get me, boy? Not this. You ain’t this.”

But there ain’t nothing left beside this, not for them. They’re pushed back into a corner and Dutch’s going feral...

 And now he’s here...

Sebastian was barely half conscious when they brought him into the building; he fought the alcohol, and if Arthur ain’t been there to pin him to the bed he’d of fought the stitches Grimshaw made on him as well. She asked if he wanted her to sit by him. He said yes. Boy slept in Susan’s arms that night, Arthur on the table.

Dutch came talk to him in the morning, about how he’s been smelling home, somewhere. They almost got all the money they needed. Arthur ain’t quite sure ‘bout that part, but what he’s sure of is the concern the man had for him then. Sat with him, brought him something to eat; Arthur’s been forgetting all too often. His wrists were growin’ thin.

“Want one?” Dutch stretched the packet of cigarettes his way, having one already between his lips.

“I ain’t in the mood for it right now, thanks.” One more glance at Sebastian; he’s still sleeping.

Dutch lit his cigarette as a means to say ‘suit ye’rself’, then kept talking, after a deep inhale and a puff out: “You really do like him.”

Arthur just hummed as response.

“I’m... sorry, Arthur.” Dutch continued. “If I ever came off as stuck up to you or him. Was just worried.” A sigh. “Worried all these people’ll be pulling us, the family of us, apart. Can’t you see how they’re trying to?”

Arthur remained silent; and it ain’t ‘cause he ain’t believin’ him. He just got a lot of thoughts and half of them were fighting the other half; a lil’ Civil War inside his head.

“We’re so close to the end now, Arthur.” A pat on the back. “We’re gonna see it through-”

“It’s been 20 years, Dutch...”

Man took offense at that and the tone ain’t been as comforting as before: “Have a bit of faith, son. We’re gonna see it through.” Another pat on the back, firmer this time. “I’m gonna go see about that trolley station Signor Valentini told us about.”

“It’s- What if it’s a set-up?”

“That’s what I’m gonna find out.”

And Arthur’s left alone with his thoughts yet again. A sigh as head’s flung into his palms, face rubbed thoroughly. What a goddamn mess; and he’s sitting ‘round, doing nothing. He should find the kid and get on those bounty hunts he promised.

But part o’ him just ain’t got the strength.

“Ughhh-ACH!” Sebastian grits his teeth trying to stand up.

“Seba-” up he goes, to his side.

“Arthur.”

“What the hell you do-”

“I killed Valentini.” He spits the name out like it was poison.

It takes a moment to register: “What?...”

“I fucking killed him.” Sebastian coughs from the effort. Arthur sits on the edge of the bed, still looking at him. “Bastard had it coming...”

So all those wounds were from that Stefano.

“Well you back at camp now.”

“This ain’t Clemens Point...”

“Had to move. Pinkertons...”

“Ah...”

It’s Arthur that takes the man’s hand, gingerly caressing the back of it, thumb rubbing over protruding veins. Sebastian hums at the touch.

“You a’right?” he asks. “And Isaac? Jack?”

“Jack’s fine. Isaac... Kid’s had it hard... But he’s gonna make a fine bounty hunter...”

Sebastian squeezed his hand:

“And you?...”

Silence for a moment, then a sigh: “Worried.” Arthur lets his head fall forward.

It’s on his heart, it’s on his tongue, but for some reason he ain’t got the courage to tell the man he missed him. He’s always been good on the kid, good on him... and he might just have saved them from whatever the hell Valentini had in store for them. Or maybe he made it worse. No matter... What’s done is done...

And he knew he did all that for them. Sebastian could have just... not gotten involved. But he did, and look where it’s brought ‘im.

Arthur ain’t no goddamn savior, but he’s gonna try. A hand waves up, a scratch of the beard, a touch of the necklace. A sigh.

“You’re still wearing it.” Sebastian’s voice is almost sweet.

“ ‘Course I am.” He replies without thinking. Another touch upon the engravings. Saint Sebastian. Pray for us. “I care ‘bout you.”

It’s a wheezed sigh from Sebastian as he tries to stand more upright; hands try to stead him:

“I thought of you-” And in that moment he sounded like Mary, as if the words came from what he hoped or dreamed was love.

And Arthur has to remind himself that he’s been through all these thoughts before, through all these motions, of holding him and getting held. And it ain’t out of shame that he ain’t all that affectionate... It’s ‘cause he’s doubting himself, and it ain’t about the queer part – he fucked him already; Arthur just ain’t all that worthy of love. And all these... That Sebastian went through all that just cause this fool happened to be himself seemed like such a cruel fate and one he ain’t quite knowin’ what to do about...

“I thought of you...” Arthur said at last; holds him closer. “I goddamn thought of you, thought you’d come back here.” It pours out, then he stops, lips pursing together as if he said too much already. “But you never did... And then I saw you back there and I-”

“I know.” Sebastian cuts him but voice is grim and hands squeeze together again. “I know.”

“Bastard; I missed you.” There he said that.

Sebastian draws nearer and Arthur leans in, forehead to forehead.

“Arthur.”

“Don’t you say it like that-”

“Why?” breath rolls from Sebastian’s thin lips out onto his cheek.

Christ-

“ ‘cause I end up wanting to-”

“Besame~” Sebastian bumps his nose into his own.

He ain’t knowin’ what that means but he ain’t even given the time to ask an answer. Lips onto lips the next moment. It’s somewhat sweet and somewhat rough, ‘cause he ain’t knowin’ what to do with his own goddamn mouth, and it’s salty as dried blood becomes wet again. And whatever force drew him in before, draws him in now: to push up against Sebastian, tongue unwillingly slipping between lips and to that the man moans. A guttural noise rumbles out from deep within his chest as response; hands go up to cup Sebastian’s face.

Then he pulls away, just a moment.

Thumbs run through thick, long beard, up his sideburns towards the cheeks. Eyes are closed, all he knows is touch.

Another stolen kiss, leaning ever further in, Sebastian underneath him. But that was a sound of pain.

Again, they part.

“Did I hurt you?”

“No.”

He stays there, to stare at him. There’s fire in those dark brown eyes, ‘cause he’s stubborn, like a buck in a wolf’s teeth. Skin’s shaped by age and grimaces of pain and rage: eyebrows drawn together even when soft, the creases on his nose from all the snarling he’s been doing. Tanned skin’s black and blue now. Man fought... And he’s still in pain-

“Does it hurt?...”

Sebastian doesn’t reply, shifts away. And so does Arthur; lets him lay onto the bed. But man pins his hands in place when he wanna take them away:

“Don’t you let go-” He doesn’t, lets Sebastian’s face rest into the cup of his palm and head turns, nose bumping against his thumb. “Arthur... You happen to be all I got left.”

Lips get pushed together: “I ain’t worth that much-”

Sebastian grabs his collar: “To me.”

Such a visceral feelin’ grips him just like all of what Sebastian was; makes him clutch that face between his palms, caress it, inhale deeply. He ain’t worth much, let alone be the sole reason someone’s still alive. They found each other barely breathing, and what a goddamn mess that seems to of made of both o’them. They ain’t meant to be here, and still they were and here’s Sebastian, fists cuffed in is shirt pulling him in and under. And Arthur’s ready to sink in, dip down and kiss him again. He ain’t meant to desire but he can’t make heads or tails of all this and all this physicality between them makes him feel good... So he does lean in, to run a finger down the browned scab on the man’s chest. What pains he must of endured all those days he ain’t seen him; it feels like it’s his fault. Guilt pang inside his guts – along with something else, ‘cause Sebastian shivers under touch.

It’s softer this time when he asks: “Does it hurt?...”

A pause then: “Not when you touch it like that...”

“Can I-” His hands want to roam that body, touch it tenderly so it ain’t hurting. Fingers slip underneath, opening up the buttons; but Arthur’s watching the man’s face as he does so. Sebastian’s eyes flutter shut and lips part, the faintest gasp. Thumbs press over firm skin, run down the man’s chest, then to the sides. And Arthur’s entire being spurts with a cold, electric shiver, that then blooms warm from deep within his chest; repeat. Goosebumps on his skin. It feels good touching him like this...

He leans further in, until breath fawns over Sebastian’s neck, and despite smelling like blood, that musky scent that’s made him hard before’s still there. And hands keep running lower, feeling the scabs, the hardened bruises, the muscles-

Mouth dries up, lips almost threaten to go down, but he don’t, not yet.

“I’m gonna get you out.” A whisper and it sounded like a promise. “You and the kid, I’m gonna get you out-”

Door swings open, then immediately a shriek:

“Jesus Christ! Ain’t thought it was for real.” John. He pulls back. “Jesus! Arthur!”

Arthur stands straight up, squares his shoulder, voice harsh: “Keep it down, Marston!”

John becomes meek, pushes the plate he had in his hands forward: “Pearson sent me with food, said you weren’t eating enough and urhm, for Sebastian.”

A deep sigh; he takes the plates, offers one to a dishelmed Sebastian and keeps one for himself. A first bite; the rich stew flavor fills all corners of his mouth. If it weren’t for the scare he might have not forgotten ‘bout the discussion. And how this all tied up to John as well...

“John.” He puts the plate down. “Listen here.”

“What-”

“Listen. You get your kid, your woman, and you go. When the chance comes up you gotta go.”

“Arthur... What-... What ‘bout loyalty?... I- What’s gotten into you?” A gaze spared for Sebastian. “Him?”

An exaggerated sigh: “Your kid’s got taken and you’re thinkin’ o’ loyalty? We been loyal, look where it’s gotten us. You got a family, John. And it’s about time it comes first.”  

John steps backwards, rubs the back of his neck:

“Shit, Arthur- I mean I ain’t thought about it like that...” He sits down; Sebastian’s quietly eating in the corner, on the bed. “I know I said that Jack ain’t chose this life. And Dutch. He keeps talking about something beyond this, but I don’t know. Feels like there’s no end to this.”

Arthur purses his lips, gets a seat for himself as well, next to Sebastian.

“You really think there’s an end?” John’s gotten serious.

“Dunno.” Arthur’s gotta be honest; he’s been doubting it himself: “But I’m gonna try.”

“You think Dutch’s been lying to us all these years.”

Arthur gets back up again; it don’t sit right with him: “Don’t know what to think no more; Dutch, all o’ us.” A scratch of the beard. “But I ain’t letting Isaac become an outlaw.”

And Sebastian.

So there’s gotta be some way outta this.

There’s a glimmer of new-found resolution in John’s eyes: “Yeah.” He gets up, slapping his knees, and then finds himself speechless looking at Arthur and Sebastian. And as if the discussion from before never happened: “Jesus! I still can’t quite get it what you find in a man, Arthur-”

It’s a chuckle but tone’s as serious as himself: “If you ever say that again I’m gonna kill you.”

“A’right!” John shrieks in defeat, wants to get out, then stop: “Still... uhm, rest well you two. I guess...”

He gets out. Arthur turns to Sebastian:

“Can you believe I grew up with that moron-”

“I heard that!”

“Calm down, Marston!” Arthur beacons in return, then sighs, a wheezed chuckle. “He’s like a brother to me.”

“Good thing I never had siblings.” Sebastian smirks.

Laughter bursts out of him: “Ah... Sebastian I wanna take you huntin’ again.”

“Let’s go-”

“Not like that.”

“Where have I heard that before?” No don’t bring that back up; Arthur scoffs.

Conversation’s cut short by commotion outside. Long steps taken to the balcony and Sebastian tries to follow, staggering onto his feet. He’d stop him if worry wouldn’t keep him moving forward.

Hosea and Abigail were back, and he ain’t ever seen such a frown on that old man’s face.

“Where’s Dutch?” Hosea says.

“He went scouting for that trolley station.” Micah replies promptly.

“Bring him back, now.”

“On it, boss.”

“Oi, what’s the matter?” Sean came as if woken from the dead.

“Valentini’s been found murdered.”

“But that ain’t been us?”

“No. But we’re their best bet and the Pinkertons already know we’re in the area and now I fear they’ll sniff us out again.”

“Gotta get downstairs-” Arthur tells Sebastian, passing by him and the man tries to stagger behind. Oh, he can’t see him like that- “C’mon.” An arm around the waist and the other hoisted over the shoulder Arthur walks, or more like drags, the other with him out, before letting go.

Isaac runs to him and a firm hand’s placed on the boy’s shoulder.

“Arthur.” Hosea strides to him. “What you think of all this-”

“Shouldn’t we let Dutch decide on it?” Arthur ain’t made for this kind of responsibility.

“Yes, but what are you thinking about who or for what wanted Valentini-”

“I did it.” Sebastian speaks up. Hosea frowns again, but the man doesn’t back down: “He tortured me to get himself off for days. He knew about you. And Isaac-”

And Hosea harshens, even if only for a brief moment, but his fury scares him, and Sean and everyone around.

“I can’t criticize your action as I would have ‘cause you’re not part of this gang. At least not quite. Not yet. But you might have just put all of us in danger with that. And I want you to think on it, Sebastian.” It’s a threat, but not nearly as overt as half the gang might have put it. “Guess we’ll either have to keep quiet, real quiet, for a while, or find someplace else. And fast.”

“I could go looking-” Arthur tried.

“No, I wouldn’t send you out again; we might need the fire power... But let’s see what Dutch says.”

 “I say we do nothing.” Dutch wasn’t pleased with any of it, and it seemed like what hurt most was the fact that he just got wind of money ready to be stolen and now he ain’t allowed to get near ‘em. “We lie low. We send people scouting ahead for a new place, to look for any sign of the Pinkertons and we lie low.” Dutch leans over the table, looking intently at the map; Hosea was quiet. “Micah, Bill, Sean. You go up Roanoke Ridge, looking for a place. Arthur, you, Isaac and Charles look through the Bayou see if you can find anything.” The look Dutch gave him then, as if he knew he’d protest; Arthur didn’t. Not yet. “I’ll keep a lookout on here. See what I can do...”

Sebastian will come with them, ‘cause he ain’t leaving the man behind, not again. And he trusts Charles.

They left just some hours later, and rode until sunset; and it was almost uncharacteristically quiet, of all of ‘em. For Sebastian he knew man was in pain and he ain’t really the chatty type; Isaac’s in a tough spot, poor kid. He ain’t been able to get much outta him these past days, but he wished he could. And Charles; man was usually quiet ‘round everyone else, but not really ‘round him and that tipped him off to something.

They rode up until they found a small abandoned village by the looks of it. Lakay was written on a sign nearby.

No one said a word.

“Guess we should stop here for tonight.” Arthur sighed. “Charles? Help me set up the camp.”

“Of course.”

“I’ll get out the fishing rods.” Isaac dismounted.

And Sebastian tried as well; the groan was audible and the shake in his arms and body was goddamn visible and it made a pit inside his guts. He can’t rid of the guilt: he’s got the man here ‘cause he was a big goddamn fool and got himself shot, almost killed and left the kid almost fatherless. Lips purse:

“Take care there...” Arthur says, to Sebastian, who made steps to join Isaac on the edge of the water.

That lil’ smile... “Yeah.”

When head whips back to arranging the wood for the fire he catches Charles looking at him with... an expression. Then man lowers his gaze. Mouth’s dry again and he’s reminded of John and how he took that, ‘cause he ain’t been together with Sebastian in camp.

They held hands that one time...

And the pen. It’s still in his pocket.

“Hold it firm, Isaac.” Sebastian talked loud over the sound of his boy struggling to reel in a fish.

“What’s he caught!?” Arthur beacons.

“Heard there was big sturgeons here!” Sebastian answers.

“We’re gonna be feastin’ like kings tonight.” A chuckle.

Sebastian’s attention is back to Isaac: “Pull!”

And Arthur returns to his job, Charles’ look almost incessant by now:

“What’s it with you?” It ain’t harsh or scolding.

“Nothing...” Charles averts his gaze. “What you think of this place? Think this could serve as a camp?”

“Well place looks deserted, it’s pretty darn deep in the swamps; ain’t thinking they’ll come lookin’ for us here.”

“We’re running out of places to hide.”

“You tellin’ me...”

“I heard what you told John today.”

Shit-

“You should leave too, Arthur.” Charles continues, yet soundin’ so hopeless.

“You better do so too.”

“That’s of no importance-”

“You’re a good man, Charles.” Arthur cuts him. “You can get ye’rsefl a future that’s more than robbin’ and killin’.”

“Hm...” Charles takes out the flint to light the fire. “You changed, Arthur.”

“Dunno ‘bout that.” His head bends down as he gets up.

“Some time ago I wouldn’t have thought you cared this much for other people. I see things differently now.” First sparks fly. “And I think you do too.”

Brows are strung together: “Watchu meanin’?”

Charles doesn’t say something just points his chin towards Sebastian and Isaac, struggling to string up the fish outta the water.

“That ain’t no concern o’ yours.” And he almost sounded harsh- maybe the first time he ever talked so to Charles. A deep inhale. “Don’t take it the wrong way.”

“No, I understand.” Cheers of victory from behind them. Charles bends his head and points a hand at him chest. “I’m the same- And I thought like that of you.”

Heart shrinks in his chest.

“I’m sorry...”

“Don’t apologize. Be happy, Arthur.”

He don’t know what words to say so lips drawn together and he turns to assist Sebastian and Isaac with that monster of a fish. Kid’s beaming for the first time in days.

“Caught him all by himself.” Sebastian sounds like a proud father. Now that’s a thought...

“What’re we waitin’ for then; let’s cut the beast open!” Knife’s out, ready to fillet the fish.

Scales off, then edge of then knife then gracefully guts the animal, before slicing it in 2 fingers worth sections and placing it on the grill with salt, pepper and a sprinkle of dried mint.

And they all ate like there was nothing else better:

“Thank you, Isaac.”

Boy perked up with a big smile on his face, then leaned into Sebastian: “He helped-”

“No, I didn’t-” Sebastian deflected, but Isaac wasn’t having it:

“Hush, you earned ye’r keep.”

“Careful, Arthur, Isaac’ll turn into quite the camp leader.” Charles seems to chuckle.

“I’m not Dutch.” Kid was offended.

“That you ain’t.” Arthur laughs, taking one more hefty bite outta the fatty fish, then a chunk of bread.

Sebastian straightened his back and stopped eating.

“What?”

“Sh. Be quiet.”

All of them perked up, listened for anything that might be moving. Silence, except the crackling of the fire.

Bushes rustle. An arrow.

“Look out!” Arthur’s first instinct is getting the kid down.

Charles’ on his feet, Sebastian struggled. Another arrow. A shot and someone stumbled out of the vegetation into the mud. There’s at least three more. He eyes one, but Sebastian’s quicker to shoot him in the neck. The one behind is Arthur’s.

A gunshot from below and behind. Another body tumbles to the ground.

Isaac shot the last one; there was no more fear in that boy’s eyes.

“We gotta burn the bodies.” Sebastian says promptly. “They ain’t gonna stay dead.” A green substance oozes from the corpses alongside the blood.

“Who were they?” Charles isn’t about to keep quiet. “Or what.”

“Fucking undead...” Sebastian spits.

[thekitchensnk]

and the spider lilies bloomed in the fall (chapter 7)

Rating: T Warnings: Violent imagery Pairing: Gin/Ran Chapter 1, Chapter 2, Chapter 3, Chapter 4, Chapter 5, Chapter 6, Chapter 7 “They say that lovers doomed never to see each other again still see the higanbana growing along their path, even to this day.”

A girl collapses on a dusty road one day. A boy takes her home.

The girl lives.

—

(The boy doesn’t.)

She frowned in concentration, and her tongue stuck out from between her teeth. She stared with pin-point focus at the knife in her hands, her gaze absolutely ferocious and directed at the object of her wrath.

“Don’t move. Don’t move a muscle. Don’t. Even. Breath,” she gritted out.

Cold sweat coated the back of his neck.

“Nah, Ran-chan-“ Gin attempted, trying to placate her.

“No!” she shouted with determination. “I’ve got this. Don’t you dare.”

With a swish of the knife and a few colourful expletives, she cut carefully at the last of his lopsided, unevenly chopped hair.

“Aha! There,” she said with triumph, her hands on her hips. “All done. You should have a look at your reflection in the river. I’ve done a brilliant job, even if I say so myself.” She puffed up with pride and laughed magnificently. “The girls in town will be fighting after you.”

“Ya’ did say so ya’self,” he pointed out grumpily. “And have those hags in town after me? Thanks a bunch, Rangiku. Done me a real favour there.”

Her satisfaction was incorrigible, and her self-praise had known no bounds even then.

“You’re just being petulant because you cut it lopsided when you did it yourself, and you looked stupid for a whole week because you wouldn’t let me fix it. Face it, I’m the best and you’re the worst!” she sang.

“I was cuttin’ it with a knife!” he said defensively.

“So was I!”

That’s why he had been nervous to let her fix his hair, though he would never say as much out loud. Any man would be nervous with a sharp blade pointed at his neck. “Yeah, well-“ she had him cornered, and he knew it –“let’s see how well ya’ did, then. Can’t be possibly be worse than my job,” he muttered. “Pass me the water?”

She passed one of their water jugs obediently, and he traipsed outside with it. He found a level, flat stretch of rock, and poured the water out onto it. He went silent for a moment, reaching down into the dark plains where his power lay. He inhaled, and reached out for it, and instead of throwing it at the water and the rock, the way he had once done, he shaped it to his intent, feeling the contours and implications of the word frozen in his mind. Stillness, he thought. Fixed. Cold. He looked at the curve of the water, and imagined its fluidity.

The amorphous puddle in front of him froze slowly, and he exhaled in triumph.

Next to him, Rangiku whooped.

“That’s amazing! Have you been practicing?! When did you learn to do that?”

It had taken a degree of incredibly fine, precise control. The power they had loathed being shaped in such measured, purposeful ways. It was as if he was missing some element of the process, some set of commands or rules. The water would unfreeze in seconds, he knew- his power couldn’t really do ice- and so he bent quickly to look at himself in the ice.

There was nothing lopsided about his hair at all anymore. She had done a very good job, he had to admit it. He glared.

“Alright, ya’ win. Ya’ the hair cutting champ.”

He saw her reflected in the impromptu mirror he had made, and her hand made its way to his head, her fingers threading delicately through its newly cut strands; her hand ghosted down to his neck, and tenderly, so tenderly it could break his heart, she brushed away some of the remnants which still lay there.

“Whoops! Missed some. Sorry,” she said, barely thinking about it.

Goosebumps rose on his neck at the casual intimacy of her touch, and he watched her, unaware, in the reflection, turning over in his mind how often it felt like there was no dividing line between him and her, that they were two halves of the same thing made whole; gold and silver, boy and girl, light and dark.

When she turned to look at her own reflection, he looked away quickly, as if burnt, suddenly shy to be caught.

She frowned slightly, and her hand left his neck to play with the ends of her own hair.

"It's getting long," she mused. She turned to look at him, and his gaze jerked upwards, to look her in her forget-me-not eyes. "Will you cut it for me?"

The knife was in her hand and she offered it to him, and for some reason, his mouth went dry.

"After the job I did on my hair? Ya'd trust me after that?" he tried to stall for time.

“Yes," she said simply. "It's different, cutting someone else's hair. You can see properly. You’ll be fine." She paused. “If you leave me bald, I will get my revenge. You know that, right?”

His eyes went to the knife that she held out to him, and he was haunted, suddenly, by the thought of driving it pommel deep through her neck until the blade stuck out her trachea, by the thought of arterial spray and the crimson of her blood splattering over the plants and across his chest, about its hot liquid warmth gushing out over his body and going cold in the morning air; how her body would go slack, and her eyes dull, and her skin gray, and how her mouth would gape in the way that all corpse mouths seemed to gape.

If she only knew the things he had done with that knife, and how easy, how simple, they had been- like drawing water from the river, or pulling carrots from the ground.

Did the ability to imagine doing such things to her make him capable of them? He didn’t know, and he didn't want to know.

He shivered in the warm air, feeling a little sick, but took the proffered knife. Reluctantly, he bid her to sit down in front of him anyway.

Her amber hair lay slightly askew, and he could see a glimpse of her neck, made golden by the sun, between its strands. It would be so easy, he thought, and yet. And his mind kept butting up against that thought. It would have been the simplest thing in the world, like snuffing out a lantern, and yet-

Could he?

He would sooner stab himself.

She bared her neck to him, and let him hold his knife there, millimetres from her, and she did not flinch for a second. It was as if she didn’t realise at all that with one slip, he could end her.

She trusts me, and the truth of that settled across his shoulders like a blanket, like a burden. She trusts me with her life. He felt sick.

Would I trust her with mine?

With a sure and certain hand, he began to cut, and unaware of the thoughts which had raced through his small head, she chattered on blithely.

---

One day in the early autumn, he took her to a sunny spot in the garden and made a cheerful announcement. "This spot is for ya'. Ya' grow whatever ya' want here- onions, scallions, garlic, cress, cabbage, whatever ya' want. I’ll help ya’."

It had come so out of the blue that she was completely thrown.

"What?" she asked dumbly.

He moved from foot to foot energetically. "The garden is ours, but I want ya' to have this bit for ya'self. I'll help ya' turn over the earth so that we can start growin' things."

"To grow anything?" she asked.

"Anythin'," he reaffirmed impatiently.

She hesitated for a moment, but he knew her face too well for it to slip past unnoticed.

"What's the matter?" he asked immediately.

"Nothing," she said a bit too quickly.

"I know what 'nothin'' looks like," he said. "Spill."

She bit her lip, and her ears started to go pink with embarrassment.

"Could we grow flowers?" and for some reason, she felt shy. She looked up at him, and he was grinning. "Don't laugh at me!" she demanded, her face hot.

He laughed, but it was a happy, care-free thing, a laugh which rose up into the sky and into the winds, and carried her up there with it. He would be sad to pass up on regular scallions, but there was always the occasional patch growing wild in the woods, so it would not be too much of a loss.

"I'm not laughin' at ya'," he said easily. "It's ya' patch of the garden. I wanted ya' to grow what ya' wanted. If Ran-chan wants flowers, she'll get flowers. Come down here and help me turn over the soil." He beckoned her closer. "It's a mucky job, so ya'll want to hitch ya' yukata up, like so," He had gathered the fabric above his knees and tied it before kneeling on the threadbare grass.

She had followed suit, and knelt beside him, her calf bumping absent-mindedly against his. Her limbs had been thin and starved once, he recalled, when she came to him, but they had grown healthy and strong in the time since. The sight pleased him

"We're just goin' to turn over the earth with our hands," he said cheerfully. "Ain't got no spade or fork to use."

She glared at him. "You didn't say that we'd have to put our hands in the mud for this."

"Nah, Ran-chan, that's just life. Gotta get ya' hands dirty sometimes and muck in if you want flowers."

The ground gave way easily, even only using their hands, and the air was soon full of the dark, loamy smell of fresh earth. He delighted in picking up worms when they found them, pink and wriggling, and dangling them in front of her, because she'd shriek and laugh and push him away.

"That's disgusting!" she'd shout in outrage. "How can you even touch it, Gin?"

She appreciated it even less when he slyly bumped her with his shoulder, causing her to over balance and land in the mud.

Working together, they cleared the area quickly, though they did not get away unscathed. He had several streaks of mud on his face from when he'd brought a worm too close to her, and she'd swiped her hands on his face in revenge. Her knees and the front of her legs were brown with dirt, and her hands were not worth mentioning. But they had smiled, and joked, and the hot morning had passed quickly.

By early afternoon, the sun was shining thick and fast, and they were almost finished. He had rolled his sleeves up, and wiped the sweat from his brow with the back of his arm.

"We're almost done here, I reckon," Gin said decisively. "I'll stay and neaten up the edges. Do ya' know which flowers ya' want to plant up?"

"Some of those spindly red ones that grow by the river," she said, having thought about it whilst they had been digging. "They're not due to bloom yet, but it shouldn't be long." Her eyes shone with excitement.

"Go on then," he said indulgently. "Make sure not to damage the roots. Ya' know what ya' doin'?

Her answer was an undecipherable noise yelled back at him and lost to the wind as she sped off to the river as quickly as her small legs could carry her.

The patch of cleared earth was not large, and was made clumsily by the small hands of children, but it would do.

He attempted for a few moments to neaten up its edges, but was too lazy and content to exert much effort. His knees ached from having knelt too long on the hard ground, and he knew he would be in desperate need of a dip in the river. He almost groaned at the thought. Birds sang in the eaves, an unmelodic, but cheerful twitter, and the sun baked the back of his neck.

Idly, he thought of flowers, and pondered whether they would attract bees, fat and bumbling, and whether they could possibly get honey for their efforts. It would be nice, he thought. Maybe we could dip the persimmons in it.

It was, he thought, a beautiful day, and so he decided to bask in the sun on his back until she returned, a satisfied vulpine smile on his face. Let her catch him, he thought.

She emerged twenty minutes later from the forest, her arms filled with a bouquet of crimson, spidery lilies which she held like a bride. Some were as of yet still only in the bud, some beginning to reach the fullness of their bloom.

Her face peaked out from between the beautiful red flowers with their strange, ungainly tendrils. Her face was flushed, and her eyes sparkled and the sun played in her hair.

She was so beautiful, that day.

She raised the flowers to him in triumph and as she did so, they began to tumble from her arms, and she had to bend and fumble clumsily not to drop them. He could not help but smile softly at the sight.

Looking at her, something in his chest tightened, and he could not say what it was, only that it was half agony, half tremendous sweetness, and entirely of her making.

He rose to his feet.

"Here," he said calmly, "Give them to me. I'll carry 'em for ya’."

She looked up at him quickly, and smiled brightly when she met his gaze, her eyes crinkling warmly. She handed the flowers over.

"They're pretty," he mused, opening his eyes fully, though the flowers took up only the smallest part of his attention. She felt heat rise in her cheeks, and could not explain why it did.

He felt a tendril-like petal between his fingers. "This was a good idea ya' had. I wonder what these are?"

She had no idea. In truth, she knew little about flowers, only that there were certain kinds that you shouldn't eat because they were poisonous, some that came in the spring, and some that came in the summer. There had not been the space to think about beautiful things before she met him.

She had chosen these because she knew that they were bright and interestingly shaped, and it had been as simple as that.

"I don't know," she said. "It’s just a pl-". She broke off, and stretched out her hand, distracted. She could have sworn she felt rain.

The world paused, like the attention of creation was focused on a grand spectacle far off in the distance.

She heard a hesitant pitter-patter.

 And then an uncertain stutter of rain drops bouncing off the ground.

The gentle tapping grew heavier and heavier until, suddenly, it became a drumming cacophony, the sound echoing across the garden, and the world turned green and blurred as the air overhead filled with water, with great lashings of water, pelting down. The sun kept beating brightly and relentlessly, and the raindrops shone like diamonds hanging in the air, and the world tilted and overturned.

She could not see; he could not see.

She grabbed his hand blindly, and startled, he allowed the flowers to slip from his arms and his fingers and crash to the ground. She ran exhilarated through the rain, laughing and laughing deliriously, leaping over the vegetable beds and odd mounds of earth, and he followed, delighted and laughing and letting himself be led after her.

He would have followed her anywhere.

When they reached the house, they were soaked through, and water dripped on the floor. His hair lay flat and drenched across his forehead, and hers hung in a wild mane about her head. They bumped together clumsily, and clung to each other to keep one another steady. Their feet were wet and water pooled on the ground.

His lips had found themselves on her forehead, so tightly were they pressed against one another, and the rain clattered against the roof like the banging of a war drum.

"The fox is- the fox is having his wedding," she laughed, struggling to catch her breath.

"What?" he asked, dazed and blinking, trying to wipe the water from his eyes. There was still mud from earlier in the day on his face, and it smeared where he rubbed.

"I-" she paused for a moment and glared at him. "I don't know! I don’t know why I said that. It's a saying, I think."

"What's it mean?" he said, trying to catch his breath.

"I dunno. It's just what you say when the sun shines and the rain rains at the same time. I think I must have heard it when I was still alive. The fox is cunning, and sneaky, and powerful, right? When he does stuff, he doesn’t like people to see, so he makes it rain.” She explained it all as if it were commonsense. “He didn’t want us peeking in on him."

"Huh. The fox is havin' his weddin'," he echoed, turning the phrase over slowly in his mouth. It was poetic, he thought- but he still didn’t have the first clue what it meant.

But she had moved on, stepping away from him to peer outside. The air was thick with falling rain.

"Will the flowers be alright, do you reckon? Will they die if we don't put them in the ground right away?" she asked, concern written all over her face. "It was tough work digging them up and carrying them here. I got mud under my nails."

"They should be okay," he considered. "They'll get plenty of water in the rain at least, and rains like this never last long."

"Ugh," she groaned suddenly, looking at her arms. "I'm still covered in dirt. I wanted to go and wash up in the river before we ate and went to sleep.” She pouted, her hands on her hips. “Maybe I should just take my clothes off and stand outside in the rain and let it do the washing for me," she said petulantly.

His heart skipped a beat.

"Nope," he said in a tone that brooked no argument. "That would be silly. And anyway, there's not enough rain now for ya' to get clean."

“I bet a bath in a sunshower would feel like nothing else in the world,” she teased, not because she knew what it implied, but because he had forbid it.

But as if his words had intervened directly with the weather itself, the drumming on the roof quietened to a patter and stopped completely soon after.

Birdsong resumed, and with it the lazy background hum of cicada music.

“You did that!” she accused. “You stopped the rain with your powers!”

“I wouldn’t know how to do that even if I wanted to!” he complained. “I don’t know why ya’ complainin’ anyway- standing in the rain wouldn’t have got ya’ clean, and now there’s no rain, ya’ can take your bath in the river, like you wanted.”

She huffed at him.

“But we’ll plant the flowers first.”

He sighed in frustration, and ran a hand through his hair. The dirt on his hands transferred, leaving a dark streak, and she giggled at the sight.

“We’ll plant the flowers first,” he said.

 ---

(And they had. They had bloomed through the autumn that year until even after her birthday had come and gone, and they had come back year after year after year without fail, even after they had both left the old house to tumble down into ruin and the garden to be overcome by the wilderness.

The spider lilies had shone in bursts of scarlet and crimson against the verdant trees, and even when they planted other flowers there, they always took pride of place.) 

(They were still there even when she returned years later, a tired woman weighed down by grief and betrayal, but wiser.

She looked at those flowers then and knew too late their irony. She thought of then of the fox’s wedding day, and of a foolish girl who had carried a bouquet of red spider lilies in her slender arms to the boy she had loved, bride-like and ignorant, so ignorant, of what was to come.)

[eliniei]

Those Hard Days - Chapter 28

Summary: Rae’s brother always made sure she was tough as nails. But when her father flips her world upside down, will she find that there’s a limit on how strong she can be?

Warnings: Rape/Non-con (non-graphic, fade-to-black), child abuse, underage drinking, underage smoking, drug use, violence, major character death

AO3: here Fanfiction.net: here

Masterlist

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Chapter 28 - Visit

"Don't be gone too long," Dally said, leaning into the open passenger side window of Two-Bit’s car. His sister nodded.

“Just wanna see how he’s doin’.” He stood up straight. Rae noticed he watched until they were out of his line of sight. 

It didn’t take too long to get to Shepard territory when driving, but Two-Bit wanted to stop at the Dingo first.

"Let's get something to eat first, huh, kid?" Two-Bit asked.

"Are you a bottomless pit or somethin’?” she asked, lifting an eyebrow. “We just ate lunch.”

“Hey, I’m a growin’ boy. I gotta eat more than just a little turkey on some bread.”

"Alright, fine," she started. “But I wanna take a couple of shakes over to Tim and Curly and you’re payin’.” 

When they got there, she sat across the table from him, occasionally stealing a fry or two. 

"So, I-I gotta tell ya somethin’ Two-Bit," she said after swallowing a sip of Coke. He lowered his burger from his face for a second. “And you can’t tell Dally. I don’t think his anger’ll do any good. It’d prob’ly just make it worse. But it’s weighin’ on my mind and I gotta tell someone.”

“Alright,” he confirmed, and then took a bite. 

"I don’t know how he found out- but that kid I fought. The one from the roller rink,” She bit her lip and started picking at the hair ties at her wrist. “He knew.”

"He knew?” Two-Bit said, incredulously, dropping his burger onto the foil wrap. “And you don’t want to tell Dally? Are you out of your mind?”

“No- please, chill-”

“That kid’s a Soc, Rae. And he’s got it out for you.”

“I know, I know, but-”

“He could go to the fuzz at any time.”

"I know. But, he’s waitin’ for somethin’. He knows, yeah, but he ain’t turned us in yet. If we tell Dally- and Dally kicks the shit outta him- don’t you think he’d do it for revenge?”

"I don't know," he replied, scratching at his sideburns. “We need to talk to my mom real soon.” Rae blew out a deep breath.

“Just...finish your food. I’m gonna go get the shakes. We can talk about it later.”

"Alright, fine," Two-Bit sighed, but she could tell his appetite had disappeared. She got up and went back to the counter. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw her friend staring out the window, picking at the skin on his bottom lip. 

The rest of the ride over to the Shepard’s was virtually silent. She couldn’t tell if he was angry at her- but she thought he was more nervous than angry. When he’d stopped on the curb outside the house, she got out and stood on the sidewalk while waiting for him to come around. 

She felt a sudden pain in her shoulder as someone bumped her elbow from behind. She hissed and watched as two kids a couple years younger than her walked past. 

"Sorry," the kid mumbled under his breath as he kept walking.

"Mark," his friend whispered. "You have to watch where you're goin’."

"Hey!" Two-Bit yelled from her other side, milkshakes in hand. The two boys stopped and looked back at him.

"What?" Mark asked.

"Don't ‘what’ me, you little shit. Get back here and apologize right. You hurt her," her friend demanded.

"I said, 'sorry' already.” The kid looked at his friend, who gave him a look. Finally, he sighed and walked back up to Rae.

"I'm sorry for running into you," he said, angrily, his face going red. She shrugged with her good arm and he went back to the other boy. The two turned and started back in their own direction, talking quietly. "See, Bryon? She didn't even care."

"You didn't have to do that, you know," she said to Two-Bit, who shrugged.

"Brat needs to learn some manners.” 

"Look what the cat dragged in," Tim’s voice came from behind them. They both turned to see him leaning in the open doorway of his house. “Thought I heard ya’ll out here. Come on in.” Rae took a good look at him while they made their way up the front steps. He looked pretty okay- didn’t get beat up too badly, she supposed, but he was always real good in a fight. Experience, probably, although she was always curious how he ended up with that long-ass scar down the side of his face but never had the courage to ask. 

"Is Curly here?" she inquired as he led them through to the kitchen. 

"Back in his room. Prob’ly got a concussion," he said and accepted one of the shakes from Two-Bit. “Thanks, man.” He sucked in a mouthful through the straw. “Here, I’ll take you to him.” 

“Sure, thanks.” He led her down a short hallway, to the last door on the left and knocked.

"Hey, shitface, you got some visitors," Tim said through the wood. “Now, don’t be shocked. He ain’t got a lick of grease in his hair.” She stifled a giggle. A muffled “come in” came from the other side and he opened the door to let her in. Curly sat lounging against his headboard, copies of The Avengers sitting in his lap, his long, dark hair light and fluffy, combed and tied back so it wasn’t in his face. Tim took Two-Bit and went back out to the front room.

"Didn’t peg you as a comic book reader," Rae said as she sat down on the edge of his bed and handed over the milkshake. “Dally used to read comics when we were kids.”

“Don’t got nothin’ else to do," he said and smiled. He inspected her face. "Don’t look like you got beat up too bad.” She shrugged out of her jacket. His eyes widened in alarm when he saw the sling. “What happened?”

“You don’t remember? You were there.”

“Nah, don’t remember much. That kick to the head must’ve been worse than I thought.”

“That Soc shoved a knife blade into my arm.”

“Hope you beat this shit outta him for it. Is it deep?”

“Tim had my back. Broke his nose. And yeah- went all the way through. Steve’s girlfriend came and stitched it up for me, though.” She jerked her head in his direction. “You look like shit, yourself. Lose any teeth?”

"Nah," he answered. "Just a little ache in the ol’ noggin.” She rolled her eyes.

“I’m surprised. Your mouth was all red when you smiled at me last night.”

“Whatever. I think you prob’ly win the ‘worst injury’ award.” Curly shook his head. “Don’t know why I’m surprised. Those fucks break the rules all the time.”

"Don’t worry about it. Just make sure you get better quick-like, got it?" she demanded. He reached out and threaded his fingers in hers for a moment and smiled. She leaned forward and pressed her lips against his. “We’d better get goin’. Just wanted to see how you were holdin’ up. Make sure you weren’t in a coma or some shit.” He squeezed her hand, then let go of it and opened one of the comics in his lap.

“Alright. I got some very important readin’ to do, anyway.” He smirked, which made her giggle. 

“Get you a pair of glasses and you’ll look like a real nerd.” 

“Yeah, too bad I’m dumb as shit.” With a loud laugh, Rae grabbed her jacket and made her way to the front room. 

“Ready to go?” Two-Bit asked her, looking up from the TV. 

“Think so,” she replied, a smile still on his face. He got up and slung her jacket over her shoulders.

“Leavin’ already?” Tim asked, poking his head out from the kitchen. “Ya’ll could stay for dinner if you wanted- mom ain’t home, so I’ll be cookin’.”

“Nah- Dally wanted me back home early. Thanks, though,” she said with a smile. “I didn’t know you could cook too.”  He shrugged.

“It ain’t nothin’ special, but it's edible.” When Two-Bit headed out the door to get his car started, Tim came around the corner, wiping his hands on a dishrag. 

“Look, kid,” he started, walking up to her. “I’m sure Curly prob’ly told ya that we threw Angel into a rehab center.”

“Yeah, he might’a mentioned it.”

“I just wanted to tell ya that I’m, well, sorry.” Her eyebrows shot up. The day she figured she’d get any kind of apology from the Tim Shepard for any reason, hell would’ve frozen over.

“You feelin’ okay?”

“Look, Dally’s my buddy and all and even if she is my sister- what she did ain’t right. For what it’s worth- I think she’s sorry, but I can never tell with that girl.” 

“Well, I-I’m sorry that it had to happen the way that it did. But, it means a lot, comin’ from you.” She smiled at him. “So, thanks. Maybe she and I can have a chat when she comes home, yeah?”

“You’re alright, kid,” he said with a smile and clapped her on the good shoulder. “Get that arm healed up quick.” She nodded.

“Good as new in no time,” she confirmed and turned to head back to the car. “Later.”

[worldly-diversity]

@ferarum ○ 𝕖𝕥𝕫𝕖𝕝 𝕒𝕤𝕜𝕖𝕕 𝕙𝕒𝕣𝕣𝕪 ○

         ⤷  『  ❛ maybe you should watch your tongue before i put it to better use. ❜  』

A sharp laugh akin to a bark escaped the sailor at those words. He knew who this lad was, and he wasn't about to let the little shit talk to him like that, inside Harry's territory or not.

As it happened, he'd been out for a quick stroll, snagging whatever took his fancy from under whoever had it, right up till this little pup got in his way. Etzel, the little Auradon boy what got himself sent to the Isle, now that's an embarrassment. Maybe he'd earned it, but Harry doubted it.

He remembers how the boy had been those first days, scared of his own shadow, trying to snap at everyone's heels as though doing that would get him anything but crushed 'neath someone's boot. And then Jay had taken the brat under his wing, and things changed again. The boy got trained, confident, thought he had somewhere to belong.

It was a laughable thought, but Harry didn't much care to pop his perception. If he did, getting Etzel to turn against his current master wouldn't get him anywhere, the boy would be suspicious of everyone at that point. Best let him find out all on his own that Jay was a backstabbing little shite who didn't care who got hurt long as the job got done. Harry admired that in the other boy, privately, on the rare occasion he wasn't picturing the other's face while throwing daggers at a target.

So they've got history, so what?

In that scheme of things, Etzel didn't matter one whit. Except when he started making a nuisance of himself, that is.

“What's this? Jay's little bitch got some teeth?” He chuckles, a soft, dark thing that sends whoever else was in the small alleyway scuttling the hell out of the blast radius that was Harry Hook in a temper. “Careful they don't get knocked out now, ye won't be growin' them back.”

Or perhaps…

His hook flashed out, catching in the other's shirt and tearing a hole into the fabric as he yanked the boy closer with it, delighting in the way he could lean over the other this way.

“Or perhaps,” He mused aloud softly, smirk curling his lips and exposing the sharp of his canines. “Little Jay's been neglecting you, eh? Ye should mind what ye say, little whelp, or I might just take that as an invitation instead.”

.

[redashtree]

The Town of Lily Lake / part nine

Previous chapters on this blog ( @redashtree ), or read here on ao3.

“You son of a--” Eun-ji hisses, Lee cradled close in her arms, wrapped up in a blanket. Jaime reaches out, but Eun-ji retreats a step, keepin’ out of reach. “You gave up our daughter! You dealt away your own child!”

“I didn't think I would have a child!” Jaime shouts back, eyes opening over his body, teeth growin’ into defensive fangs. “I made my Deal with Lucas years ago, how could I have known?”

“I’m leavin’ town. Don't you even try to follow me, Jaime Byrd.”

“You can't leave, Eun-ji. Eun-ji!” Jaime moves forward again, catching her arm, making her hold Lee tighter. “Lucas has claim over Lee, if you take her out of town that’s you slightin’ him, stealin’ what by our Law is his.”

Eun-ji looks up at her faery husband with all the rage and hatred and disgust he is so used to, from other humans, but not from her. Never from her. Not before this very moment.

“Then I’m leavin’ this house,” Eun-ji says, pulling away from him. “And you are never gonna speak to me or my daughter, you understand me?”

Then she throws his true name at him like a knife, the precious thing he’d traded her now ringing in his ears, and Jaime bares his fangs in seething rage.

“Yes,” he growls, because what else can he do but obey?

“Good.”

And Eun-ji leaves, and takes her child with her.

:::::

The Spider and the Scorpion are twins, cunning and dangerous, all jagged edges and sharp silver tongues. They make Deals and tell half-truths with a wink and a grin.

They don't come from this land. They followed the humans that believed in them across the sea. Here, there are others inhuman as they are, and other humans; new peoples to be bargained with, unknown stories to hear and be told.

Here, though, the presence of their Court is small, and slowly waning, even as their humans from across the sea claim more and more and more.

:::::

It takes them hours to make the Deal. As humans rarely understand, bargains are delicate, and must be treated as such. Terms are set and reset, loopholes closed and addendums made, until all parties are, if not happy, then at least content with the trade.

Lily gives them safe haven, just at the edges of the town he’s established; under his protection, but only just. He claims them, and tells them they should think about actin’ a little more human.

The Spider does not accept this suggestion, and stays wild, in the desert, at the boundary of Lily’s Lake. The Scorpion becomes Jaime, and the surname will change a few times before he meets Eun-ji, and again before he meets Marie.

They make a Deal.

One twin promises a firstborn child he does not intend to have. The other promises a heart she doesn’t particularly care to keep. They both think themselves rather clever when Lily accepts.

:::::

Eun-ji doesn't know how to categorize the sound her husband is making. It's somethin’ between humming an’ singing, the sounds mimicking but never fully forming words. She smiles, soft and happy, looking away from the book she's readin’ and putting her hand in his own. He looks up at her, and smiles back, mirror-image, squeezing her fingers without any strength. She's sitting in the grass, Jaime laying with his head restin’ on her leg.

Her middle’s finally started to look like there might really be a baby growin’ inside it, and Jaime is fully enraptured, so curious to know what their child will look like, will be like. He's always looked at Eun-ji with the strange, possessive, intense kind of love that the Fair Folk come to feel the easiest, but with this, with their unborn firstborn, an entirely new, more gentle type of love starts to spark behind his eyes. It's almost unsettlingly strange to see, this nearly-human sort of love in her faery husband’s face.

Jaime keeps singin’ to the baby, and Eun-ji goes back to her book.

:::::

They are arrogant, and greedy, and like the humans from across the sea, the twins make a plan to claim more and more and more and more. They gain allies within their Court, and they try, and they fail, their numbers not enough to face the spirits who belonged here first. To avoid any more fighting than what will already be, their Queen exiles them, leavin’ the twins to the desert.

:::::

Lily’s Lake wasn't ever a lake, in the literal sense. It is desert, dry dust and rock and bone, and likely won't ever be much more.

But it’s a place of refuge, of home, of belonging, and to some, that makes it worth more than a lake, even in the desert. It’s worth enough that the faefolk among its residents are willing to Deal with Lily. And the human folk rarely stop to wonder who it is they're belonging to.

:::::

The Spider gets a camera, from a man passin’ through town, and takes to photographing all she can, birds and insects and lizards and occasionally people. Nothin’ ever sits still enough for the pictures to turn out, but she keeps tryin’. She photographs Eun-ji, twice, keeps one picture for herself and trades the other to Jaime for a swig of whiskey from a stash he rarely touches. The pictures develop blurry, but Eun-ji is grinning in both, bright and true, her hands folded in front of her stomach, where the very beginnings of a bump are starting to show.

:::::

Eun-ji leaves her Bible in the parlor when she goes, and she doesn't come back. She doesn't ever come back for it. Jaime tucks the photograph in between its pages, and leaves it on the shelf.

:::::

“Good kid you got,” the Spider winks with three of six eyes, and Eun-ji glares daggers from her bed.

“If I had the strength, I’d throw you out the window,” she says. Another of the Gentry might see this as a threat, an insult, but the Spider is amused.

“You ain't got enough strength to throw a horseshoe,” the faery shoots back, grinnin’ wide enough to show all her teeth.

“I’m not makin’ a deal with you,” Eun-ji closes her eyes, leans back into her pillow, ignoring the instinctual fear that tells her not to take her eyes off the creature by her bedside. “And I don't want you makin’ any Deals with my daughter.”

The Spider laughs. It's the kind of sound someone makes when they know more than anyone else in the room, and are pleased with themselves for it. Eun-ji doesn't think much of it; the Spider, an’ most fae, tend to sound like that more often than not. Eun-ji opens her eyes, though, looking at her former sister-in-law just in time to see the Spider’s eyes all turn from lilac back to gold.

“I won't make any Deals with your daughter,” the Spider replies, crossing one claw over her chest in a cross-my-heart gesture. Eun-ji scoffs.

“I know your heart isn't in there,” she points out, flat and unamused.

The Spider only laughs again.

:::::

The Spider waits, in her lightning-struck tree, for Lucky to realize who he is, an’ come to her. There are visions seen in purple, but they don't all match up; she isn't sure ‘til he arrives which questions and which truth he will be bringin’ with him.

“How’d you know I was a boy ‘fore I did?” he demands, ten years old and out in the desert alone, echoing half her visions an’ breaking the rest. The Spider grins, spinning down from her tree to crouch at her nephew’s eye level.

“I can see the futures,” she tells him. “What do you have for me, little Lucky?”

He offers three bloody teeth in a pouch, shed from his own skull, and the shimmering body of a dragonfly.

“I wanna make a Deal,” he says to her, for the first time and far from the last. They trade in stages, small things for small things over months, and then years, until Lucky Byrd is a young man. It's taken long enough-- the same length of time as any child growing into an adult-- that very few people in Lily Lake think to question it.

And every time she makes a Deal with the boy, Sheriff Lucas comes questionin’ after him, possessive and protective of his claim.

:::::

When Jaime meets Eun-ji, he is a Byrd, trying to make up for something lost, and his twin is willing to play human for the comfort of his bride. Eun-ji is a spark, bright and powerful and full of life in ways Jaime thinks of as fascinating, other, like a puzzle to be solved. She Deals and half-lies and spars in wits with him, and she is not a faery, but she is dangerously clever and silver-tongued.

She has his heart, and then his hand, and then his name, and then she has his secrets and she is gone because of them.

:::::

When Jaime meets Marie, he is a Hart, trying to make up for something lost, and his twin thinks him too human now, boring, emotional, ridiculous, beneath her. Marie is a sunbeam, bright and powerful and thoroughly, humanly, kind, in ways Jaime doesn't try or even pretend to understand. She Deals and trades truths and spars in jokes with him, and she is not a faery, but she is needle-sharp and deceptively unassuming.

She has his heart, and then his secrets, and then his hand, and his name is his own again but hers is even more closely guarded. She knows him, and loves him, and doesn't leave, and he knows her, and loves her, and makes himself be human enough for it.

[underopenskies]

Big Boy Shoes

((AKA Hamish no longer has to have the trashbag of shame :D Our lovable little cowfolks also learn the gender of their baby.))

@fontsandsins

Skylar shifted the truck down a gear, and clenched her teeth quietly as she eased into the next lane of traffic, to bring them over towards the clinic. She was about eighteen weeks now- so they were going in for their appointment to see their baby’s gender. They were also going to be getting Hamish out of his cast- and into a walking boot. For which, Skylar was quite glad. She was quite tired of driving- and once he was in his boot, he’d be able to drive them back.

Given that the stress of driving kept making her feel less than stellar when they got home now, it was definitely for the best. Stress wasn’t good for pregnant women- and she was still early enough that there was a risk for miscarriage. And driving? Driving definitely was enough stress to cause that. At least, based upon the number of finger marks marring the surface on his steering wheel, it certainly was.

“So, you excited t’ be out o’ th’ cast, Haz?” She asked lightly, flinching faintly as someone honked behind the truck. She tugged her shirt down a little over her belly, and swallowed with a soft noise as she felt the faint fluttering of their baby from within. God, she hated driving- she hated it with a passion. “I know m’ excited for ya t’ be out of it.” It was starting to smell funny- as all casts were wont to do- but they couldn’t exactly go scrub it clean of that old-cast stink that casts tended to get.

Hamish grinned. "I'm damn ready to be out of this thing. It means I can look after you now, instead of you having to look after me so much." He said. He reached his hand out to gently rub Skylar’s shoulder, trying to ease away some of the tension.

His hands did help her ease off the tension- particularly since they weren’t far from the clinic. She exhaled gently, downshifted some, and then made a turn onto the road that would take them straight to the clinic. “I don’ mind havin’ t’ look after ya, sugar. But, it will be nice t’ have some help when it comes t’ cleanin’ th’ stalls.” She manages to give him a lopsided grin. “Particularly with our little one growin’ so big.” The baby was making her round ligaments ache something fierce- but there was nothing really to be done about it.

Skylar flipped on the truck’s blinker, ready to turn into the clinic as it came closer into view.

Hamish sat up and watched the cars as Skylar parked. His truck was bulky and sometimes it was bigger than it looked; he wound down his window and stuck his head out, checking the car next to them on his side. "You're doing good babe." He smiled, rolling his window back up. "It will be nice not needing to lug the crutches around everywhere we go too."

Skylar took her time easing the truck into place. It was a slightly tighter fit on her side- but that was slightly intentional. He needed space to be able to work his crutches- and she didn’t. Once the truck was parked, she slid the parking brake into place, and turned it off. “Yeah, it’ll be nice indeed. Though th’ crutches more or less come hand n’ hand with luggin’ you places with me, sugar.” She winks at him faintly, and exhales softly. Skylar collects her purse, and eases herself out of the truck- which involves a little bit of squishing and awkward angling of her skull to work the unbending forms of her horns out without getting them stuck, since there wasn’t much space to open the door. But, it was doable, and she was soon shutting her door and heading around to help him out of the other side. “Heh- ‘f ya think you’re up to it, sugar, you get t’ drive home t’day.”

He smiled and eased himself out of the car, keeping his weight on his good foot. He closed the car door and used it to hop over to the tray, reaching in to untie the crutches. "Oh, I'll be driving. You've stressed yourself out enough." He rubbed her back and pressed her gently against the truck so he could hold her belly and kiss her.

Skylar didn’t mind being pressed against the truck, and a soft laugh left her as she returned his kisses with gentle gusto. She hooked her fingers gently in his belt loops, tugging his hips gently against hers as her lips met his. Her middle pressed into his, well on it’s way to becoming an obstacle for them- but she was still able to crane past it for now. “Mmm, ain’t that th’ truth. M’ afraid y’ steering wheel ain’t in th’ same shape it was before I drove it with it.” Soft blue eye lights peered up into his reddish brown ones, and she quirked a smile up at him. She’d gone without her hat today- which wasn’t something she did often- so there was nothing obscuring her view.

He chuckled, a smooth but deep sound. "I need a new truck anyway… if we want something we can put a baby seat into." His cheeks heated slightly when she pulled him against her and his… friend downstairs have an approving throb. He let out a breath.

Skylar loved his laugh- the deep sound always made the baby in her belly flutter with the small quickening movements that she’d been picking up from time to time. “Given tha’ we wanted t’ have lots o’ kids, a new car of some sort is probably in our future. We can start lookin’ into somethin’ that you’ll like, since you’ll be drivin’ it th’ most.” Skylar might not have felt the throb, but she felt him twitch against her in his jeans. A slow grin crawled up her face, and she kissed him again, peppering soft kisses from his mouth down to his jaw, and then scraping her teeth lightly over the bone of his neck. No one was in range of seeing them in the parking lot- she could tease him just a little bit. “Ya know what else you getting’ out o’ ya cast means, Haz?” She purred. “Ya get t’ top again~”

Hamish felt that familiar feeling of arousal bubble in his stomach; he glanced around, and then rocked his hips against hers. "Mn." He rested his head against hers and laughed again. "With our luck the ultrasound doctor will tell us to hold off on sex for while or something."

She nuzzled her face gently to his, a pleased sound leaving her as she felt him rock into her in turn. If it wasn’t for the fact that she had no desire to have sex in his truck- or in public- she’d probably continued to tease him. Skylar couldn’t help the soft laugh at his words. “Well, ‘f ya go and jinx us, then the doctor probably will. I don’t see why they would though- M’ healthy, n’ we’re usually pretty careful.” Other than some cramps after an orgasm, nothing hurt or was uncomfortable either.

Hamish kissed her again and lifted the crutches out of the truck, tucking them under his arms. "Lets go; we keep cuddlin’ and I don't think I'll be able to stop myself."

She laughed, and let him head out first. That gave her the chance to reach out and lightly pinch his ass. Heh- soon, he’d be able to get her back for doing that. She honestly couldn’t wait. “As much as I love ya, Hamish, I’d rather keep our bedroom shenanigans in th’ bedroom. Now, lets go get ya out o’ that cast, and into probably a walkin’ boot.”

Hamish laughed again and crutched himself into the clinic, waiting for Skylar.

She wasn’t far behind him, keeping up with his more-practiced paces with easy steps of her own. She held the door for him, got him in, and then headed for the front desk.

The nurse behind the desk gave them a smile, glancing between the two of them lightly. “Checking in?”

“Yes.” Skylar nods. “We technically have two appointments, but we want t’ get his done first before we get t’ doin’ mine. It should be under Hamish Parker?”

The nurse at the reception desk hums, and quietly looks it up. “It looks like Hamish is expected down at Orthopedics for a cast removal? I can get you checked in, Ma’am, and they’ll be ready for you when you’re done with Mister Parker’s appointment.”

The horned skeleton nods. “Fiancé- but ya, tha’ sounds about right. If it’s not too much trouble, then sure. Should be an ultrasound scheduled for Skylar McQuillin.”

“Missus McQuillin- ah, yes.” She clicks a few buttons, and nods to the two across the counter. “You’re all checked in. Orthopedics is actually in the same waiting area as the OB, so it’s just down that hall down that way.” She directs them down the hall to the right. “They’ll call Mister Parker back, and you can either go with him or wait for him to return to the waiting room. When he’s back, they’ll call you back for your ultrasound, Missus McQuillin.”

Skylar nods and smiles. “Thank you, Ma’am.” That done, she turns to Hamish with a big smile, and motions him forward. “Ya want me to come back with ya while ya get your cast off, sugar?”

Hamish pouted playfully. "I might need you to hold my hand." He said, making his way to the waiting room.

“Then I’ll be there.” She smiled.

The waiting room had several people in it- only a few seemed to be there for orthopedics though. There were several that seemed to be there for ultrasounds, like Skylar was, in various stages of later pregnancy.

Skylar guided Hamish towards a set of chairs near the orthopedics door, and eased herself down. She made a fist, and rubbed her fingers gingerly into her side as it pinched slightly. The round ligament stretching was unpleasant, truly. “Alright~ Heh. M’ excited t’ be able to hold your hand while we’re walkin’ around again.”

Hamish flopped into his chair, resting his crutches against them. He relaxed into the chair and curled his fingers around Skylar’s.

She laced her fingers with his, and gave him a smile, nestling her head down onto his shoulder with a soft sigh. Her free hand wandered to her middle, folding over it out of habit, and she found herself laughing quietly at the ticklish feeling in her belly. The quickening motions felt so weird- it was sort of like someone tickling her from the inside. “I hope our baby ain’t shy,” she hums. “I really wanna know what our lil’ wiggler here is.”

Hamish tilted his head slightly. "It’s moving?" He grinned, he placed his hand near Skylar’s, he knew he wouldn't feel anything; it was more to comfort the baby.

The squirming picked up as he spoke, and Skylar laughed again, sliding his fingers down to where she could feel the movement. Nothing could be felt from the outside yet- but soon, very soon. The movements were getting stronger every day. “It is. It always moves more when ya talk. It’s kinda like… someone’s ticklin’ me from the inside. It feels really weird.” Her eye lights dance merrily though, and she beams at him warmly. “I can’t wait until ya can feel it move too. Heh- ‘s a magical feeling.”

Hamish grinned widely he watched his hand on Skylar’s Belly. The were a few other mothers in the waiting room and he could feel their eyes on them while their partners watched their phones or read magazines.

The gazes of the other mothers in the room had Skylar flushing, and she tucked her face into his shoulder with a soft laugh, though was ever mindful of her horns. She didn’t remove his hand though, and simply rubbed her thumb over his knuckles and let the warmth of his palm seep into her belly. “I think we’re bein’ watched,” she giggled lightly, her voice a whisper into his shoulder. “I wonder why.”

Hamish chuckled. "Think they're jealous?" His eyes stayed on Skylar’s belly.

The nurse entered the room. "Hamish Parker?" She called.

He sat up and got his crutches. "That's me."

“Maybe they are.” Skylar hums. Given the lack of attention she could see some of them getting, it was understandable. Not all dads were as excited to be a dad as Hamish was- and for that, Skylar was one lucky lady. When he’s called, she stands, and helps him upright with a grin. “C’mon, sugar. Lets go get ya out o’ that cast, and off of th’ crutches. Bet ya can finally scratch that itch that’s been buggin’ ya for th’ past month or so too.”

Hamish snorted. "I've been wanting to just be able to wiggle my toes and stretch out my leg for months." He said, following the nurse out of the waiting area.

Skylar followed along with him, and nodded. “Yep, I can imagine ya have been. But, you’ll get t’ do that soon. And,” she grins at him cheekily as they’re lead back, “no more trash bag on ya leg in th’ shower or when ya goin’ outside, yeah?”

"That is a bonus." He agreed. The nurse let them into a room and had Hamish sit up on a chair.

"So, we're just going to cut it off, give it a bit of a wash and then get you a boot." She explained.

"Sounds good."

Skylar took a seat in the spare chair, and left plenty of space for the nurse to work on Hamish. “Y’know, I didn’t actually get t’ see them put th’ cast on you.” She hums. She’d been hauled off for an emergency ultrasound to check the baby- something about high stress levels likely causing a miscarriage- and had missed it. She’d got to see him come hobbling out though. “S’ gonna be cool t’ see it get taken off.”

And, cheekily, Skylar offered him her hand, since he’d pouted to her about needing to hold it.

Even though it had only been a joke, he did curl his hand tightly around hers.

The nurse picked up a small rotary tool that had been fitted with a tiny blade. She turned it on and began running it up and down the plaster cast cutting into it, then she started on another area until she had created enough of a crack that she could pretty much snap the plaster in half and ease it off his leg.

The air felt odd on his bones, he leaned up a little to look. It had healed good as new. He practiced wiggling his toes and rolling his ankle around as she dampened a cloth with warm water.

Skylar smiled as his foot was bared, and patted his hand gently. “Your leg looks like it healed up pretty good,” She purred. Only a faint mark that she could see that it had ever been broken. It did, however, smell like it hadn’t been washed in three months, and that was not a pleasant smell. “How’s it feel, Haz?”

Hamish watched his foot. "Like it was reborn." This pulled a small laugh from the nurse as she rubbed soap onto the cloth then moved back and began scrubbing Hamish's leg clean.

“Compared t’ the last time we saw it, it practically has been.” She kisses his temple gently, and watches the nurse scrub his leg clean. “Is it tender at all?” She inquires. He’d need to build strength back up in his leg- and support further healing- which is what the walking boot was for. But, the boot could come off, and give his leg air time.

Hamish rolled his ankle again. "Like this… a little. That could change when I put weight on it though." The nurse nodded and then rinsed of the cloth, coming back to finish up cleaning his leg.

Skylar nodded softly. “You’ll want t’ take it easy then, n’ work ya leg back up t’ where it was, Haz.” His hand gets a gentle massage as his leg is cleaned, and she smiles faintly. “We’ll see how you’re feelin’ though, after ya first couple o’ steps.”

The nurse finished up cleaning his leg and began cleaning up the plaster. "You can try putting some weight on it while I clean up, then I'll get you fitted with a boot." She said.

Hamish nodded and sat up, moving slowly. He placed his feet on the floor and held the chair as he slowly stood up, keeping most of his weight on his good leg. He slowly eased weight onto his leg.

Skylar watched him with some concern, keeping a careful eye on him. She lifted herself out of her chair, and hovered close by just in case he needed her. “Remember to go easy, Haz,” she says gently. “But you’re doin’ good, sugar!”

He watched his legs as he stood up normally, his brows furrowed together slightly. "It's a little sore." He said, he reached out to hold Skylar’s hands and took a small more shuffled step forward.

Skylar had no trouble taking his weight and supporting him with her hands as he took a shuffled step forwards. Pregnant she might be, but useless she was not, and she didn’t have a problem catching him if he were to fall. “I imagine so- ya haven’t been usin’ it for several months. It’s probably wonderin’ what th’ heck ya trying t’ do to it.”

Hamish smiled. He kept walking very slowly, stopping after each step to wiggle his toes slightly.

Skylar watched him wiggle his toes, and quirked a little grin at him. It was good to see him back in higher spirits. “Ya toes are wigglin’ almost as much as th’ baby is.” She grins at him cheerily. “Heh. How ya doin’, Hamish? Leg still holding up okay?”

He nodded, his smile wide. He was happy; it felt nice with the sweaty, smelly cast gone.

Skylar smiled to him, and leaned up just a bit to kiss him.

Once the mess was cleaned, the nurse politely cleared her throat. “Alright, Mister Parker- if you’d like to sit down again, I can get you fitted with a boot so you don’t strain your leg.”

Hamish turned and looked back at the chair. He had managed to get himself almost a meter and a half away from the chair and now he would have to get himself back there. He reached out trying to grab at the chair so he could use it to hop himself back over to it.

Skylar rolled her eyes, and tucked herself under his shoulder instead, and had him use her for a crutch. “C’mon, handsome- don’t need ya fallin’ n’ hurtin’ somethin’.” She helped him hobble back over to the chair, and got him seated again, before going to sit herself back down as well.

The nurse simply giggled at him for a moment. “Alright- may I ask what sized shoe you wear, Mister Parker?”

He looked down at his foot and bit his tongue between his teeth then looked at Skylar. "Uh… the one that fits. I think… like a… 12 or something, shit… uh," He sat up and pulled his boot off. "This is a 13."

“A thirteen then.” The nurse nodded. She got up and went over to the counter, and began rifling around inside, before pulling out one of a proper size.

Skylar smiled slightly and chuckled. “Y’ got big feet.” She chuckled. “So do I. At least, for a lady, I do.” She wore an eleven to a twelve in women’s shoes- which was about a ten in men’s, depending on the shoe.

“Tall people generally do have larger feet.” The nurse smiles slightly. She returns, and kneels down again, carefully opening up the boot from the front, and then easing his leg into it, so she could start buckling it up and testing the fit, and trimming the straps to the size they’d need to be.

Hamish watched how she did it so he would be able to do it for himself later, it was still kinda bulky and odd. But if it meant he could walk around and look after, and help Skylar than he was more than happy.

Skylar also watched, perchance she caught anything Hamish missed.

The nurse was quick and careful about doing up the straps, and then trimming them once they were at a decent length. She sat back on her heels, and gave him a smile. “Alright, Mister Parker. Why don’t you stand up and test it out? You should be good to go, but an easy lap around the room will let us know if I need to make any adjustments for you.”

Hamish stood himself up again and put his weight on his leg. He smiled and looked up. "It feels good." He made a small lap around the room.

“Alright then.” The nurse smiled, and straightened. “You’re good to go then- just take it easy with your leg, or we’ll be seeing you back here again.”

Skylar hefted herself out of the chair and grinned at Hamish. “Look at you go now,” she grins cheerily. “You’re up and moving.”

Hamish laughed. "I'm one of the big kids again." He joked, he wrapped his hands around Skylar’s and walked with her out of the room and back towards the waiting room.

Skylar linked their fingers, and enjoyed being able to do so. “Ya get t’ have your big boy toys back.” She teases, and fiddles around in her purse to fish out the keys. They’re handed back over to their rightful owner, and the pregnant skeleton gives a content sigh as they reach the waiting room once more.

Hamish jokingly kissed the car keys. He let Skylar sit down but used the waiting room as a chance to practice walking until they where called. He felt like a toddler learning to walk all over again, a little wobbly but getting the hang of it.

Skylar crossed her legs but simply watched him walk with a smile on her face as he practice and improved.

Again, their wait time wasn’t long- she’d just started to get comfortable, when a nurse came out and called her name. “Skylar McQuillin?”

Skylar grunted and hauled herself upright, and waved to the nurse. “That’s me!” She smiles. “C’mon, Hamish. Ready t’ see our lil’ one’s gender?”

Skylar instantly pulled Hamish from watching his feet. He spun around and grabbed at the wall to stable himself before following after Skylar. "I've been waiting to see them again since last time we where here."

She chuckled, and offered her hand out to him with a warm look. “That you have been.” She agrees lightly, slowing down to allow him to keep up without stressing his legs.

He walked with her, hobbling slightly as they made it into the dark ultrasound room.

"Now Skylar, would you like to hop up on the chair for me, please."

Skylar nodded to the nurse, and hopped up into the chair after dropping off her purse. She undid the button of her maternity jeans, and folded them back to that the ultrasound tech could get at her belly. She also tugged up her shirt, showing off the growing bump.

Her eye lights glimmered excitedly at Hamish, and she all but trembled with enthusiasm. She held still all the same, though just barely. “Fifty-fifty chance of a boy or a girl,” She grins. “Wonder what we’re gonna have~”

The nurse smiled and began prepping Skylar the same way as last time.

The screen clicked on and the nurse began rolling the wand around Skylar’s belly. "Oh, there we go." She said. "Wow, it’s gotten a lot bigger- this is a good angle so I'm going to take a photo here and do some quick measurements.” She focused on the screen for the moment, measuring each part of the baby and writing it down. "Okay, now lets see if I can get a good look at the pelvis"

Hamish sat forward in his chair, watching the monitor with wonder.

The nurse froze the screen and zoomed in slightly. "Congratulations, it's a little girl."

Skylar watched the screen with rapt attention, her eyes glued to it. She watched the little one moving and squirming around inside of her and was able to place the ticklish feeling to the shape of the limb as it twitched and lashed out inside of her.

However her mouth popped open as the results were announced. "A little girl!" She beamed. "Oh, that's wonderful! We're gonna have a lil' princess to love, Hamish."

Hamish stood up and lent over to press kisses against Skylar’s face.

The nurse took a few photos for them and left them to have their moment while she cleaned up.

His peppering of kisses had her laughing with shaky happiness, and once her belly was cleaned of gel and her pants were buttoned, Skylar rotated in her chair so she could loop her arms around his neck and hug him. A little girl- that was absolutely perfect. “H-heh. Our little girl,” she smiled, “she’s gonna be perfect, Hamish.”