#that line made me flash back to the 'thanks to you i am saddled with unecessary... feelings' from edgeworth

[wigglepiggle]

I find it really funny that as soon as I heard klavier speak for 2 lines I was immediately like "damn another character to add to the lgbtq+ attorneys list" /silly

[starships-barships]

Unseen| Chapter Two

(Josh x Fem!Reader/Plus size reader)

<-chapter one

Word Count: 5665

**Warnings-Minors DNI- Alcohol, mentions of insecurities and anxiety, negative self talk, & language, brief mentions of self harm, & slight sexual implications. If I am missing any please let me know.**

Authors note: I do not know Josh, Jake, Sam, or Danny personally. This is purely a work of fiction. Reader is considered plus size and is going through the motions, and if that's not your thing..oh well. It's a sloooowww start. This is my first time writing anything other than normal journaling, so bear with me.

You groan as the sound of your alarm blares loudly through the room. 

“Alexa, volume 3!” you say seemingly unnoticed by your device. “ALEXA, VOLUME 3!” you yell as loudly as your sleep riddled voice will allow. Jesus. The music quiets to a tolerable volume as Stardust Chords comes to its climax. You stretch and pry your eyes open, immediately regretting your decision as the morning sun blinds you through the only crack in your curtain. Ugh. You blink a few times adjusting your eyes to the light. Grabbing your glasses from the nightstand, you take note of the time. 9:15am. Shit. Luckily, you work from home, so you have just enough time to knock the sleep off your vocal cords before your shift begins in 15 minutes. You begrudgingly hoist yourself from the bed as the blankets and pillows beckon you back. As tempting as they are, you make your way to the bathroom. You brush your teeth and wash your face as per your routine. As you pat your right cheek dry you flash back to your dream. Oh. 

You audibly whine as you come back to the reality that none of it was real, but you can’t shake the feeling of Josh’s curls pressed against your cheek. Stupid alarm. Grabbing your phone to text the two instigators of your dream, you tell them all about it and the emojis they fired back let you know they enjoyed it almost as much as you did. You continue your morning routine of starting a pot of coffee and clocking in for your shift. You decide to leave Alexa playing your favorite songs throughout the morning.  Your workday goes by fairly uneventfully for a Friday. Meetings are canceled to your delight. Michelle and Kati check with you throughout the day to make sure tonight’s plans are still a go. You three decided on going to your usual spot. They had the best drinks after all, and the bartender never skimped on the alcohol. Afterwards you planned to go to the beach. Living on the coast has its perks, sometimes.

As noon approaches your phone reminds you that your eye exam is just a few hours away. You’d been anxious over it because you’ve decided to make the switch from glasses to contacts. You’ve worn glasses for years, but you’re finally at a point in life where you no longer feel the need to hide behind them. Plus, your glued-back-together glasses made it an easier choice. You send a quick text to your boss to remind her that you’ll be clocking out early. You finish your remaining work and get ready to leave in a hurry. You opted to just throw on a high waisted skirt with your sleep shirt, tucking it in and leaving the “You are my Sunshine” multi-color block letters visible over the belt line. 1:30pm came and went and you were out the door. As you get in the car “Mountain of the Sun” comes on via shuffle, you can’t help but giggle to yourself over the irony in the lyrics and your outfit of choice. 

The exam went as expected. There hasn’t been much change to your eyesight. Thank God. You were, however, saddled with some news you weren't expecting although it wasn't bad. Your response to that was one you’d heard many times growing up. “You get what you get, and you don’t pitch a fit!”. The older woman finishing up your transaction seemed amused at your optimism. 

Once you arrive home it’s close to 5:30pm. You excitedly head to the bathroom to start getting ready for tonight. Your phone dings. 

Instagram: 2 notifications

You click on the alert. It was nothing of importance, but before you know it, you’re aimlessly scrolling. You nearly gasp when you see it. 

josh_gvf you get what you get and you don’t throw a fit…. Or whatever they say…

The irony, again, not lost on you. Nice play, universe. You immediately screenshot it and send it to your group chat with Michelle and Kati. Explaining how clearly the universe is just fucking with you at this point, and joke that you're cosmically connected to the curly haired man. 

You shake your head and laugh in the mirror, adjusting to the new face looking back at you unobstructed by your glasses. After washing your face and brushing your teeth, again, you move on to your makeup routine.  You want the focal point to be your eyes. They’ve always been your favorite feature, and tonight they wouldn’t be hidden. You decide on going with a black smokey eye, black winged liner, and gold meeting the black in the inner corner of your eye. You weren’t sure what you were going to wear, but as you walked back into your room it became obvious. The black lace dress was practically mocking you. You slid it on over your head to avoid the zipper in the back. The underlay of the dress hugged your hips in all the right places, and the lace cascaded perfectly on top. Once you adjust the belled sleeves, you glance over to your shoe rack. The black sandals. You grab them and slide them on effortlessly, ignoring the sirens going off in your mind. Am I going crazy? You walk to your floor length mirror and smile at yourself. The only thing left “undone” was your hair. You preferred your hair in its natural state. Wavy, mixed with a few tighter curls only needing to be tousled with your fingers. 

You grab your keys and walk out the door as the clock reads 7:30pm. You let the girls know you’re on your way. At the last redlight before the restaurant you take a quick video of you singing along to “I’m a Lady '' by Santigold, mainly to showcase your missing glasses. As you pull into the parking space you notice the lack of response from either person that should’ve beaten you here. Seems about right. You’re dialing Kati’s number as you walk in. She answers on the second ring letting you know they’re just a few minutes out and that Michelle is riding with her. This only meant one thing... you’d all be leaving in Kati’s car tonight. 

The wait isn’t long, only one other person in front of you. The hostess asks how many people will be joining you, and then walks you to a nearby booth. Normally, you’d protest, but not tonight. You’d be lying if you said you weren’t scanning the room. You make a mental note to look into therapy as soon as you recover from whatever hangover you’re sure to have in the morning. The server approaches and you order three margaritas and an appetizer. Michelle and Kati show up right as the server returns, both delighted that you’ve ordered ahead. The night ensues accordingly. Food and more drinks are shared. You’re on your third and about to make your way to the restroom when you notice a group of people approaching the front entrance. 

No fucking way. Maybe contacts weren’t such a good idea..

Michelle and Kati turn in unison to see what you’re fixated on. When they turn back towards you, they’re wearing matching devilish grins, confirming your fear. Please kill me. You wish like hell you could rewind time and not draw their attention to the four men. Before they can say anything, you make a B-line for the restroom. The walk to the back of the restaurant felt like an eternity. Your feet would not and could not gracefully move any faster.

Why are they here? No one comes here. There are larger cities all up and down the coast. Why here? Am I psychic? What’re Michelle and Kati doing out there? Now I have to go back out there. What if I just stay here? They can’t stay all night, right? 

You’re standing in the restroom clearly experiencing a mental break, because there is absolutely no way this is happening right now. You brace yourself on the sink and face yourself in the mirror. Deep breaths. Four men? It’s just four men. Four men from Michigan. Why are you panicking? You can’t help the manic laugh that escapes your lips as the realization hits you. You just went through this last night. It’s a dream. It has to be a dream. You begin calming yourself down. Physically shaking the nerves from your fingertips. You look back at yourself in the mirror, check your teeth and practice your smile. Your confidence waivers slightly as your eyes slide down your body. Your glare lingering on your midsection. Nope. Don’t do it. Just walk out. You grab the door handle and take one last deep breath before making your way back out into the open space. 

It was no surprise to you that your friends were already making conversation with the four men who had sent you into hiding. You loved their confidence and caught yourself feeling slightly envious. It’s not too late to ru..NO.  You shudder one last time, before silencing the negative thoughts. 

You pick your head up and walk as confidently as you can manage towards your table. Catching your server along the way and requesting a tequila shot. Once you’re back at your table you shoot a smile and a half wave to the group that now includes your two friends, Josh, Jake, Sam, Danny and a few others who were with them. Michelle and Kati share a confused look, but soon return to their conversation with Sam and Danny. With your attention now on the freshly arrived tequila shot you hadn’t noticed that Josh’s eyes followed your friends' confused looks in your direction. He couldn’t help but smile as he watched you lick the salt from your hand, tilt the glass back, and bite into the lime in a hurried fashion. Your nose scrunched up at the bitterness of the alcohol mixed with the lime.

You’d just caught your breath when you noticed someone approaching. 

“Mind if I join you” 

You almost didn’t notice he said anything at all. You can wake up now. His brown eyes are even more beautiful up close versus all the photos you’ve seen, and you’re pretty sure he asked to sit with you. 

Josh notices your slightly distracted stare, and chuckles breathily to himself, looking towards the floor and shaking his head. He looks back up at you patiently. 

“Oh, y-yeah, of course” you manage to let out.  Oh God. Get it together. You can feel the sweat threatening to make its appearance as Josh takes the seat across from you in the booth. You’re not sure how to start a conversation, especially not with him. 

“I’m Y/N, by the way.” You decide as you’re reaching your hand across the table. A handshake? Really?

“Josh” he says with a wide grin, taking your hand in his. 

“I’m aware” you say sarcastically, topping it with a giggle in hopes that it came off as flirty and not rude. 

His face seems as though he’s trying to read you when you loosen your grip on his hand prompting him to let you go. 

“So, what brings you here, of all places?",  You ask, narrowing your eyes awaiting his response, biting your bottom lip slightly out of uncertainty. You’ve never been good at small talk. 

“There’s just something so personable about places like this. The people. The community. The atmosphere. It’s different in smaller towns. Things move slower. Even the air feels different. Here we have the time to take it all in. There’s so much beauty to be seen in the world, but it’s often overlooked because no one takes the time to see it” 

You took note of how he spoke expressively with his hands. You’d seen him do this in interviews, but in person... you couldn’t stop the smile that spread across your lips. 

Just as you're about to respond, the others make their way over. Before anyone else has a chance to sit down Josh shoots out of his side of the booth and slides back into yours. You look down at your lap, wishing you could shrink into yourself. As his leg presses against yours, it reminds you that once again, you are just too much. 

He notices your shift in mood while everyone else takes their place in the booth, and Sam pulls up a chair to sit at the head of the table. 

“I’m sorry. Is this okay?” He says in a voice only meant for you to hear. 

You force a smile, looking back up at him. “Very much so.”  You kept your eyes on him a little longer than necessary. What is wrong with you? You’ve said barely two sentences to each other.

The server returns to the table, and everyone orders their drink of choice. You briefly debate with yourself if you need another considering your current state. You quickly conclude that one more can’t hurt. 

The conversations around you continued after the server left. Your friends and Sam continued their back and forth, Kati briefly spoke up in defense of today’s “distasteful pop music” as Sam had put it with his lips curled into a look of disgust.  Michelle was more in agreement with Sam, but backed her friend 100%, because girl code, and she’d be lying if she said her playlist didn’t have a few questionable additions. They each pulled out their phones to review one another’s playlist. The girls quickly poke fun at the first song on Sam’s being a Justin Bieber song that was a few years outdated. He scoffed in return. Jake rolled his eyes in their direction and made the comment that “Music is music, as long as you enjoy it”. You’re sure Danny was in on the conversation too, but you were teetering on the edge of dissociation. Until someone directed the conversation at you. 

“Y/N, tell him!” Kati proclaimed as if you were her attorney about to shut down the opposing side.  

“Oh, uhm, yeah. I listen to anything that makes me feel something. I even wrote..my..” your sentence trailed off when you noticed they’d turned their attention back to each other, essentially letting you know you’d said enough. The look on Sam’s face said your response favored his viewpoint. 

You roll your eyes and chuckle to yourself, your train of thought derailed by the man sitting next to you.

“What’d you write?” Josh looked at you with interest.

“Just a silly paper back in college, no biggie. Music has always been a huge part of my life though. Thanks Dad” you say, raising your glass before taking a sip. Greeat. Bring up your Dad..Everyone loves a good pity party. 

”They say the power of music transcends sound itself” he says cheekily, which brings a smile to your lips, remembering the specific intro. 

“For those of us who can not hear it, feel it” you finish the line for him, winking. He chuckles in return. 

“So, you do like us! I wasn’t convinced when you first walked out.” 

“Oh.. no..I don’t like you at all! Was it that obvious?” Your words drip with sarcasm.

Josh feigns hurt, placing his hand on his chest. 

“I mean, I’m a fan of your profession, but you? I'm not so sure about you” You lie.  He continues his dramatics which elicits a giggle and butterflies on your end. 

“I need a shot!” You hear Sam proclaim. Followed by a round of “me too”’s making its way through the group.  

“I’ll have another!” You mimic Thor with your actions, slamming your shot glass from earlier onto the table, making your friends laugh in the process. Almost every night of drinking included this scene. Okay, reel it in. 

“A Marvel girl, huh” Josh inquired.

You shrug, feeling the embarrassment creeping in. 

“I just watch a lot of movies” You finish with a half hearted grin. 

His response is delayed and you quickly try to recover. 

“ This must be hard for you. I mean, the world knows you. Not you..you, but with the information out there I just don’t want you thinking that I..” you’re rambling. you stop yourself when you notice his coy smile. “W-what?” 

“You’re flustered.” His smile deepens. 

You look beyond his shoulder briefly to see Sam and Kati walking back towards the table with hands full of glasses. Thank god. You hadn’t noticed they had  left.

“I just don’t know how to do this.” You admit. 

“Do what?” 

“The people thing..” you motion with your hands and huff out a small laugh. 

“ Who told you we are people?!” his eyebrows raised. 

The tension in your shoulders falters at his teasing. 

“Government experiment, called it!” Snapping and pointing your finger towards him in one motion. Both of you are laughing as the tequila shots are passed around. 

“Bajabule!” Glasses clink together as everyone cheers and readies themselves. 

You had intended to take yours at the same time as everyone else, but that was derailed the moment Josh quickly took your wrist and guided your hand to his mouth. His tongue slowly picked up the salt, as his lips left a small kiss in its place. The feel of his lips on your skin sending chills through your body. Is this really happening? Your mouth hangs ajar. 

Your eyes remain glued to him as he smirks, your wrist still in his hand. You pull it back quickly, faster than you meant to. Josh's expression changes at the motion. 

“I- I should’ve asked.. I didn’t mean to make you uncom..” he starts, but you cut him off by taking his hand and running your tongue over the salt slowly, replaying his actions. His lips part as you make a show out of taking your shot, and biting the lime seemingly unphased this time. 

Your eyes only part from his when you hear your friends and his brothers cooing at your display. Your cheeks flush red, casting your eyes back down to your lap. Did I really just? Please wake up. You pinch the exposed skin on your thigh.

You instantly regret your recent decisions when your eyes meet where your fingers are. Your dress has ridden up slightly, and you’re aware of what’s just out of view. The decade old scars that litter your skin there only sting in moments like these, when you're reminded of the parts of yourself you’d give anything to change. You quickly pull the hem of your dress back down and take a deep breath. 

“Was that one a little strong?” Josh jokingly bumps his shoulder to yours. 

“ Just a little” you fake a small laugh. “That wasn’t too much was it?” 

Michelle overhears your question and butts in “ Stop overthinking it! See?!” She grabs Jake's hand and licks the back of it in the same manner you did. Jake looks thoroughly amused as he flips her hand and does the same. 

“Are we just licking people now, or?” Danny chimes in. 

“I mean,  I’m down..” Sam winks in Kati’s direction eliciting a blush from her. 

Turning to you Josh says “If you must know.. it wasn’t”. His smile is sincere as he shakes his head slightly. “You’re in your head a lot, aren’t you?” 

“Are we ready?” Jake asks the group before you can respond. Bullet dodged. 

“Where are we going?” You ask. 

“The pier!” Michelle and Kati exclaim together, laughing at your forgetfulness. “Let's gooo!” 

Your nervous smile returns. Kati is the first to stand, taking Sam's arm in hers. Michelle, Danny, and Jake walk away to cover the check, despite your protests to handle your own. They appear to be discussing something they didn’t want the rest of you to overhear. You make a mental note to ask her about it later. Josh moves out of the booth, and extends his hand out to you to help you to your feet. You nervously take it, and keep the other on your knee making sure your dress doesn’t slide up. 

Once you’re to your feet you can feel the amount of alcohol you’ve consumed. You also can’t help but take in the man standing next to you. He’s not tall, only an inch or so taller than you. He’s slender, whereas you most definitely are not. His loosely fitting white shirt and tan jacket are hiding his toned arms, but you know they’re there. His hair is a mess of curls, but tamed well enough. His brown eyes are framed by his long lashes, and the way they’re looking at you right now makes your knees weak. 

He’s perfect, and you’re just you. The voice in your head returns. It’s yours, but it doesn’t talk like you, and it’s always there to pull you back to reality. 

“Shall we?” Josh motions towards the door where the rest of the group are heading. 

You straighten your dress and give him a small nod in agreement. He makes it to the door and holds it open until you’ve made it out. The night air is warm and feels nice on your skin, despite the humidity. The wind blows just enough to give a slight chill, but it’s welcomed in the summer heat. The others are ahead of you and Josh, making their way into the candy store that’s notorious for its rum soaked cherries. 

“ It’s this. They don’t have this everywhere.” Josh says in response to your question earlier in the night. 

“Candy stores?” You ask sarcastically. 

He shakes his head with a grin, coming to a stop on the boardwalk. “Just close your eyes and take a breath. What do you smell? What do you hear?” 

You stop and close your eyes. “Hmmm, the bar we just left, the buzz of the light behind me, and..” you take an exaggerated breath “and I think that's your cologne.” You feel a hand on your arm. You open your eyes to see him in front of you, and you nearly melt at the way his brown eyes are looking into yours. 

“Close your eyes.” He says placing himself in front of you. 

You nearly choke. “Trying to kiss me?” you huff a laugh trying to hide your nerves. 

He chuckles in response “Nope.. not yet”. The last part is so quiet you’re sure you made it up. He’d never kiss someone like me. 

You close your eyes, while his hand remains on your arm, his thumb rubbing lightly over the thin skin in the center. You’re sure he can feel your pulse quicken. 

“Take a deep breath.” He instructs, and you listen. “What do you hear?”

“The laughter of my favorite people, a mother teaching her child how to find the little dipper, the cicadas in the dunes, and the waves kissing the sand goodnight.” you respond, a smile finding your lips. 

“And what do you smell?” 

Taking another breath, you take your time to respond “Salt from the water, caramel from the candy store, flowers from the floral shop on the corner, and the tequila on our breaths.” You crack an eye open to see if you passed. 

“And what do you feel?” His eyes are fixated on you. 

You open your eyes fully meeting his gaze. “Seen.” 

He smiles at your answer, and removes his hand from your arm. You instantly miss his touch. 

Turning to resume the walk to meet your friends, he places his hands in his pockets sheepishly “So, what’s this I heard about rum and cherries?”

You start walking to match his pace “They're the best. I don’t know how they do it, but you can barely taste the rum, and you only need 5 to catch a buzz.” 

“I’ll get 10 then” he says cheekily. 

“Sir, I’m already there.” You tease. Yeah, I’ve definitely had enough. 

“Sir?” He raises an eyebrow. His look can only be described as devilish. God, why is he so beautiful.

“Shut up.” you say, pushing his arm playfully. You hide your face in your hands to cover the brightest shade of red you’ve worn all night. Once you look back up, you’re at the door of the candy shop and Josh is once again holding the door open for you. Such a gentleman.  

Your senses are overtaken as you walk in. The walls are lined with dispensers that are filled to the brim with every candy you can imagine, and the bar in front of you is host to an array of chocolates. Underneath holds tubs of ice cream and freshly made cones are stacked in containers that have made a home on the prepping board. The largest gummy bear you’ve ever seen is on a table of its own right in the center. The only person who appears more enthralled than you is Josh. 

“Allll of this, and we’re only told about the cherries?!” He says, motioning around the room. 

You giggle at his reaction, and turn towards the man behind the counter. “10 spiked cherries, please.”

The man hands you the bag of tasty sins, then you and Josh make your way through the store to find the others. Kati and Sam have made their way to the wall containing many different flavored Jelly Beans. Michelle, Jake, and Danny are enjoying the aforementioned cherries. Michelle held one between her lips, as Jake leaned forward and took it between his own. Your jaw dropped when she repeated the action, but with Danny this time. We have really got to talk later. You turned to gauge Josh’s reaction to what you’ve both just  witnessed. To your surprise he seems unphased, and just smiles a closed grin in response. You snort, and shake your head, resuming your journey through the store. 

You come to a stop when you spot black licorice. “I have to get these, they’re my mom's favorite.” You announce your actions to Josh, as you grab a bag and raise the lid of the container. 

“Who in their right mind likes black licorice?” He furrows his brow. 

“You’ll understand when you meet her.” You chuckle. 

“Oh, taking me home to mom already?” he teases. 

Your breath catches in your throat and you almost lose the bag of licorice in your hand. 

“IF.. you meet her” you force out. 

“So, there’s a chance?” He sounds amused. 

Your cheeks have taken on a shade similar to the red licorice next to you. Without looking up you turn to head towards the front of the store, mumbling “Not for someone like me”. The intrusive thought escapes your lips, and you hope like hell he didn’t hear it. 

Josh follows suit behind you, before dodging around one of the racks in a hurry and taking position in front of you. He stops you in your tracks. 

You put your hands behind your back and put on a cheeky smile. “How can I help you?” 

He puts both hands on your upper arms while standing incredibly close. “What’d you mean by that?” 

“Which part?” you furrow your brow in mock confusion, turning your body back and forth in innocence. 

Kati and Sam walk up behind you causing Josh's attention to shift above your shoulder. 

“Tried a cherry yet?” Josh asks his brother, as he releases your arms. You turn to see who’s behind you. 

“Not yet” Sam responds looking at Kati insinuating his intentions. 

You scoff at him and hold the cherries up and shake the bag. 

“Oh, yeah we got some of those too.” He laughs. 

“Before I forget I grabbed these for mom.” Kati says handing out a bag of licorice that matches your own. 

You hold up your other hand showing her its contents.  “She’s spoiled.” You both laugh in agreement as you take the bag from her. 

Before you can stop him Josh takes the items from your hands. You look at him quizzically. 

“So I don’t show up empty handed!” He winks and grins widely, spinning on his heel to make it to the register before you can stop him. 

You’re blushing, again, but you can’t stop the gnawing voice in the back of your mind. Why me? He could have anyone, anywhere, but he’s here with me? He must’ve lost a bet or this is a cruel joke. 

Kati recognizes your expression and grabs your hand. “Hey, don’t do that…”

You look up to meet her eyes. She can see what’s happening. “It’s just that I’m no..” you start, but  she cuts you off. 

“You are everything and you are crazy to think you’re ever less.” She grips your hand tighter. 

You give her a half smile and nod. She pulls you in for a hug. “I just wish I was… less.” You say in a voice only she can hear. Tears threaten your eyes until she smacks the back of your head gently. 

“That’s what we’re not gonna do. Not tonight. Tonight we’re the main characters.” She proclaims. 

Sam wraps his long arms around you both. “Yeah we are!” His goofy demeanor breaks up the seriousness of the conversation. 

“Just try for me, okay?” Kati asks as she pulls away. 

“And me!” Sam adds with a grin. 

“Us too!” Danny chimes in. He, Michelle and Jake make their entrance together. 

“You don’t even know what you’re signing up for.” You point out to them. 

“I know that look.” Michelle looks at you with one eyebrow raised. “And we’re not doing that tonight. Hear me? You’re a badass.” 

You can’t help the smile that makes its way back to you. Kati is always the softer one. She is always there to gently talk you back from the ledge. Michelle is too, but she commands you back, never letting you live in your own thoughts for too long.  In times like these you need them both. To be completely honest, you don’t know how you could ever get by without them. 

The voice in your head has calmed down by the time Josh makes his way back, and together with your friends you walk back to the front of the store so they can finish paying and head towards the pier. 

“Cherry?” You offer to Josh after walking in silence for much longer than you were comfortable with. He opens his mouth to accept the treat. You oblige and place one on his tongue which is meeting his bottom lip. You decided on having one too. 

“Exquisite.” He says after a moment. 

“I told you they’re pretty good.” You reply.

“I wasn’t talking about them.” He takes your arm in his. 

“Oh..” you look at him trying to find the words. 

“We’re going down!” Michelle announces, motioning towards the stairs that lead to the sand below. The bookbag she’s carried all night now makes sense. Once you all met at the bottom she opened the bag and handed out three throw blankets. 

Kati and Sam nearly run away once they’ve gotten theirs, and you can’t help but chuckle at the sight. Sam has the corners of the blanket pulled around his neck as he runs like a superhero. Kati is trailing behind him, lost in a drunken fit of giggles. You and Josh take yours and make your way down the shoreline, leaving Michelle, Jake, and Danny behind. 

You’re painfully quiet while walking, and coming to a stop when Josh finally asks “What’s going on up there?” He motions to his head. 

“Nothing, just.. I don’t know.” you respond. 

“You can tell me anything..” He says while laying out the blanket. 

You take a seat and huff out “I don’t get it.” 

“Get what exactly?” He questions. 

“Why me? Why are you here with me?” you glance up at him from your seated position. 

“Why not you?” His expression is sincere. 

“Look at me..” you move your hands over your stomach and thighs, pulling the hem of your dress slightly. “I’m me, and you’re you.. and this just doesn’t make sense.” 

He takes a seat next to you, but doesn’t respond. He looks almost hurt by your words. 

“You could be sitting here with anyone, Josh…” 

Again, he doesn’t say anything. His lips part slightly as if he might, but instead he chooses to lay back on the blanket. 

You grow frustrated with yourself and try to wipe the tears away before they fall. Fuck. me. 

“I’m sorry, it’s just I..” You are interrupted by his hand on your arm convincing you to lay back with him. You keep your hands covering your face, not wanting him to see you. 

He gently takes your hand and pulls it from your reddened cheeks, and laces his fingers through yours. “Look up..” He says. “If you couldn’t see the stars or the moon would you still find it beautiful?” 

Your eyes are fixated on the night sky, trying to envision a world without its wonder. 

He raises your hands together and traces Orion's belt as he continues “The universe cannot see itself. It’s not aware of how many people spend their entire lives trying to get a better view, and with each new star we discover, our fascination grows.” He lowers your hands, and places a soft kiss just below your knuckles. He turns his head to face you. “You can’t see your stars, Y/N..” 

You release his hand and turn your body to face him, and without a word you lay your head on his chest. He wraps his arm around you, pulling you tighter to him, his fingertips rubbing small circles on your upper back. 

You relax into him, fighting the heaviness in your eyes that the alcohol is siding with. You look up at him with a small smile, which he returns with the reassurance of his lips on your forehead. You give into the feeling, the sound of the waves and his heartbeat lulling you to sleep. 

You are safe here.

chapter three ->

[one-boring-person]

You forced this upon yourself😂 you forced this rambo simp.(and i dont mind)

Okay this may not be as good! But! Im giving you the liberty to take it where you want!(because i love your little details and how you express the feeling in your writing i- AH! Its great. I cant say it enough, it’s great. I mean it.)

How about Rambo finally getting enough courage to show The rancher around the tunnels, in a date sort of way!(they don’t know thats actually where he lives. Aka that photo i showed you before.) i really saw how the rancher was so happy to have him at their house, I’d love to see rambos side of scheduling a house tour and date type deal!! Maybe him even sitting and showing the rancher through all his old photos, and them just in awe because wow. He’s so much cooler than they even thought! He just so nervous and surprised seeing them so interested in him after all this time alone, and them just- in awe of him.

( i also really think it would be funny seeing rambo go through his friends house and seeing-“why the hell you have so many plants???” And just. Adorable assassin living with a wholesome and loving hardworking s/o)

Ah! Im sorry if that’s not as good!! But hey, you feel free to describe their antics and relationship as you will!!

I think I may have run a bit with this, but I hope you like it regardless!😊💛

I've Got Your Back, You've Got Mine.

John Rambo (Rambo IV/V) x reader

Warnings: mention of death, mention of war, mention of injury, mention of PTSD, mention of violence, (possible flash warning for gif?)

Masterlist

The heavy knock on the door surprises me where I'm sitting, the sharp sound snapping me from my thoughts. Looking over at it from my position at the table, I frown and set down my spoon, standing to go answer, unsure of who it is: I'm not expecting anyone today. Colt looks up from his place on the floor, the dog just as curious as I am as to whom it may be, though he doesn't bark, so it must be someone we know. He watches me as I cross the room, going straight to the door.

Opening it, I'm somewhat surprised to see my neighbour, John, standing there, a tentative smile on his face as he looks me over appreciatively, his gaze drawing a blush to my face. 

"Mornin' (Y/n)." He greets, rough voice friendly as he waits for me to let him in.

"Morning John." I smile back, delighted to see him, "What can I do for you?"

I step back, waiting for him to enter, which he does so with a nod of thanks.

"Since when have I needed a reason to see you?" The veteran chuckles, the sound reverberating within me, my brain subconsciously storing the action away for later recall. Gently, John moves into my space, one hand coming to lightly rest on my hips as the other cups my face, drawing me in for a slow kiss. 

Kissing back, I feel a glow of happiness flare up in me at this contact: he's never really one to initiate touch like this, so it's a whole lot more intimate when he does. Relaxed, I loosely wrap my arms around his neck, languidly caressing his dark hair as our lips move together. 

Being the killjoy he often loves to be, Colt pushes in between us, nosing at John's leg, tail wagging enthusiastically as he recognises the familiar man, the dog as fond of his company as I am. Chuckling, John and I pull apart, looking down at the large canine between us, the dark eyes staring up at us imploring us to pay attention to him. Still smiling, John lowers a hand to scratch Colt's head, ruffling his floppy ears a little as the dog instantly allows his mouth to hang open, tongue lolling in content.

"Hey, Colt." The veteran greets, biting back a laugh as the dog pushes me out of the way, nudging at John's stomach.

"He never gets that excited to see me." I complain jokingly, standing back to watch the two interact, a smile playing at my lips.

"Sure he does." John replies, eyes fixing on mine with an expression of fondness, one that had me weak at the knees.

"He really doesn't, he just sits in the corner and whines at me until I feed him. Isn't that right?" I address the dog himself, giving him a light slap on the rear, his ridiculous height meaning I can quite easily reach it, "Anyhow, did you need something? Or did you just come here to kiss me? I can't say I'll complain if that's the case."

Cheekily, I wink at the veteran, leaning back against a nearby counter.

"As nice as that sounds, it's not the reason I came by." He chuckles, blushing lightly, "Though that does sound good."

Grinning, I nod my agreement, only now taking in his body language: he's nervous. His hands fidget, rubbing his fingers over scars and lines on his palms, and he shifts from foot to foot every now and then, small tells he's never quite managed to hide from me.

"Is something up?" I ask him, slightly more serious this time, unnerved by his discomfort.

"No, no, not at all. I, err, well, I just wanted to ask you something." He rubs the back of his neck, head tilted to the side as he regards me, dark eyes fixed on mine.

"Ok, go for it." I prompt him, curiosity sparking my interest.

"Well, do you wanna come to mine? I mean properly, like in the house." John cocks his head to the side, lowering his arm again.

Blinking, I feel shock flood my system, before it turns to unbelievable happiness that he's trusting me enough to come into his private space. Initially, I can't find the right words, somehow struggling to respond, until I find my tongue again.

"I would love to, John." I agree, features lighting up as my mood brightens, "There's nothing I've really got to do today except train up one of the younger horses, so I've got as long as you want after that."

"Great. Is four o'clock alright?" The veteran smiles broadly, though he still looks somewhat nervous.

"Yeah, should be. I'll be there." I promise him, taking up my Stetson from the table as I briefly turn away to put away the plate I was using, having lost my appetite in my sudden excitement.

"I'll get it tidy." He says, looking around the room again, "I'll never understand why you have so many plants in your house. It's like a damn jungle."

At his comment, I laugh loudly, glancing around at the variety of different houseplants I have placed on various shelves, the greenery practically covering every available surface. 

"Because it's way too dry to grow anything like this outside all the time. Anyway, they look nice." I shrug, calling Colt to my side as I follow John from the house, grabbing my jacket from the hook as I pass.

"But why so many?" 

Once again, I shrug, following him over to a nearby post, where he's hitched Bandit, the horse I gave him a few months ago. The buckskin stallion paws at the ground, his pale coat looking as clean as ever even as he noses at the dust, the dark colouring around his eyes (the reason for his name) and legs standing out much more in the bright sun. As we approach, he looks up, snorting in greeting.

"He's looking good." I acknowledge, admiring the strong stallion appreciatively - I had reared Bandit from a foal, before I had given him to the veteran as a gift four months ago, hoping it will help him to grow his own ranch. My plan had worked, and John now has four horses, including Bandit, as well as a couple of other animals, such as a cow, a pig and five chickens. I'd sold him a couple of goats as well, but we soon found out that John and goats just didn't get along. At all.

"Yeah, he's doing well, too. Takes the training very well, too." John runs a hand through the stallion's dark mane, untying the reins.

"That's good. Reckon he'll be ready for a competition soon?" 

"Should be." 

Snorting again, Bandit pulls at the reins, clearly eager to get going, especially as Colt moves up to sniff at the horse's back legs. I quickly whistle him over, knowing Bandit has always been shifty around the dog.

"I'll see you at four then." I finally say, unwilling to say goodbye, even if it is only for a few hours.

"Yeah, see you then." John smiles, leaning in to kiss me again, keeping it brief this time, leaving me wishing for more, as he always does.

"See ya." I grin, watching him climb into the saddle, still somehow fluid in doing so despite his age. 

Gathering the reins in hand, John adjusts himself in the saddle, before he smiles down at me again as he gently urges Bandit into motion. Obediently, the stallion moves into a swift trot, which turns into a faster canter as the two move off down the driveway, heading towards the split in the fence separating our land. I watch as they go, still finding myself enraptured by the sight of the muscular man sat astride the horse, Colt eventually snapping me from my mind as he barks at me. Shaking my head, I follow him towards the stable.

Hours later, having showered and cleaned up, I feel a sense of relief go through me as I hoist myself into the saddle secured into place on Leo's back. It's relaxing, the stallion beneath me more relaxed than the youngster I've been trying to train all day: she never gave me a break. Seemingly sensing this, as he always does, Leo flicks his ears back and nickers softly, very lightly pawing the ground as I give him a pat on the neck, glad to have a more reliable horse taking me where I need to be.

Tilting back my Stetson, I take the reins in hand and ease the stallion into a trot, intending to let him pick up his own pace, my trust in this horse far greater than in the mare from before. Obediently, Leo moves into the correct gait, the two of us moving as if as one, years of riding together having made it easy for us to become in tune with each other. Together, we start off down the road towards John's ranch, the new path we've created beaten and well-used, allowing for relatively easy riding. Leo's hooves pound the dry ground rhythmically, my hips moving in time with his every stride, the relaxing movement helping to calm the nerves that have sprung up inside me.

A part of me is still unconvinced about going into John's home. Yes, I had helped him rebuild it and had seen very little of the inside rooms, but it still feels as if I'm intruding upon the veteran's safe space, his reprieve from the cruelty of the world he lives in. Something about that doesn't sit right with me, but I tell myself it's John's decision to make, not mine, so I should trust him, which I do, wholeheartedly. 

I'm still torn by the time I reach the main house, where John is already sat waiting for me in his rocking chair, dark eyes fixed on me as I approach. Lifting a hand to him, I smile and slow Leo to a halt, praising the horse as I climb down, the gray stallion nosing affectionately at me. Swiftly, I tie him to a nearby post, only to stop when John calls out to me.

"Put him in the stable for the night." He instructs me, gesturing for me to follow him as I try to fight back the sudden onslaught of racing thoughts at his implications: he wants me to stay the night?

"Sure, thanks." I smile back at him, walking after him with Leo in tow.

"Don't worry about it. It's not fair on him if he has to stay out all night." John waves me off with a short grin, "How'd training go?"

I groan.

"Not great. That horse has it in for me, I swear." I complain, rubbing at my arm, remembering the moment I got the new bruise forming there.

"Oh yeah?" He muses, looking amused.

"Yeah. She threw me off eight times!"

"Eight times? Wow, must be a new record." The veteran jokes, something that stirs up the familiar fondness inside me at his more personable behaviour.

"I reckon so. Painful one to set, though, I'll tell you." I remark, smiling broadly as we enter the stable, where I quickly house Leo next to Bandit, removing his tack and other gear.

"Must be." John watches me work, leaning against the door to the large building, muscular arms crossed over an equally muscular chest. Turning back to him, I have to stop and admire the bulging of his biceps as his hands grip his forearms, the veins I've come to love laying out a pattern on the tanned limbs. Everytime I see them, I imagine his strong arms wrapped around me, holding me safe and secure against his solid body, wishing I could feel his hands splayed against me more often.

"Like what you see?" John interrupts my thoughts, voice teasing as he lifts an eyebrow at me, almost smirking at me.

Blushing furiously, I avert my gaze, lifting a hand to gently tap the brim of my Stetson out of my vision.

"You know I do." I laugh nervously, before I look back up at him, "Anyway, since when do you use pickup lines?"

"Since I figured out they get you all flustered." His playful tone is new to me, though it's gone almost as soon as I see it, his guarded expression falling back into place as he returns within himself, probably thinking he overstepped some invisible boundary.

I still can't help stammering for a response, his gruff tone awakening something within me.

"Heh, I guess you're right." I stutter, going over to him.

Nodding, he keeps his expression straight, leading me out back to the house, where he quickly welcomes me inside.

"I tried to tidy it as much as possible, but it's still a bit messy." The veteran apologises, observing the interior of his home critically, even as I do so in awe.

The rooms, from what I can see, are mostly filled with sparse furniture, a few chairs here and there, an old sofa, a couple of vanities and dressers, with a mantlepiece in most, if not all, of them. He hasn't used much colour, but what he has used is tasteful and works well with the overall appearance. The walls, however, are what really draw me into the place.

They are littered with photographs and memorabilia, frames and objects cleaned and polished so they shine brightly in the afternoon sun, many smiling faces visible in them. Curious, I go over to one wall, looking over the array of pictures, which I now recognise to be images of John and his friends from the years he spent here. Amongst them is a creased black and white photo of a young John sat astride a horse not unlike Bandit, a broad grin on the boy's face as he stares at the camera from under a mop of thick black hair. I can feel a small smile creep onto my face at the sight of the veteran looking so happy and carefree, something I've not seen very much of at all in my time around him.

"That was my first horse, Hector. I had him until I left for the army." John says from behind me, sounding somewhat quiet, eyes softened from nostalgia as he stares at the picture along with me, "I loved him a lot, but my father always said he wasn't good enough."

His words hang in the air as I stay speechless, listening intently to what he's saying to me: it's the first I'm hearing about his life before he came here again.

"What happened to him? Hector, I mean." I ask him quietly, tearing my eyes away to look up at John.

The veteran shrugs, appearing somewhat remorseful.

"I'll never know, but I reckon my father sold him as soon as I was gone."

"Oh." I frown, glancing back at the photograph.

"The horse was getting old by that time, though. He probably wasn't much use." John chuckles wryly, moving away towards the stairs nearby, "Do you want to see upstairs?"

"Yeah, sure." I nod, following him as he ascends to the second floor, which I now see consists of three different rooms.

He takes me to the farthest, opening the door to reveal an old study, which looks as if it hasn't been used in a good few years.

"This was my father's study, where he did all his business. I was never allowed in here as a kid." John sweeps his arm around the room, staying by the threshold, as if abiding by a rule that no longer exists, "Not that I go in here that much as an adult."

I look around, finding the neat area interesting: images of a young John hovering by the door, waiting for his father to finish business entering my head.

"It's nice, I like it." I remark, turning to find him smiling very slightly at me.

"It's the only room in the house that's exactly as it used to be. I haven't had time to do up the others properly." John says, leaving the study and going back down the hall, where he opens the other two doors to reveal a bathroom and an empty room.

A dull curiosity flares up within me as I realise one thing about the top floor, but I easily find a solution to it, following John back down the stairs. As we go, however, I realise that my assumption is wrong, as the only other rooms down here are missing the one thing I'd expect in any house.

"Where do you sleep? I haven't seen a bed or anything anywhere." I ask him, cocking my head to the side as he takes me to one final door.

"I'm gonna show you." He smiles at me, before he opens the door.

I blink as I see the dark steps descending into the ground, unease biting at my throat as I flash John a hesitant look. A cool draft wafts up from the black depth, but John only chuckles and moves down into the space below, gesturing for me to follow.

"It's perfectly safe, don't worry." He calls to me, a light flickering on as he reaches the bottom of the steps, illuminating the path to me.

Swallowing, I gingerly step down the stairs, emerging into a tunnel of sorts, my curiosity piqued as I take in the chiselled walls around me, the rock cast in an odd light from the naked bulbs positioned along the length of the cavern. Struts of wood hold the ceiling steady, wiring hanging off of them in places where he's had to hastily put it all together. John watches as I take in the passage, a thoughtful look in place on his face.

"What is this place?" I wonder aloud, still taken aback by the oddity of having a tunnel beneath the house that stretches off in both directions.

"This is my safe space." The veteran informs me, urging me along with him as we go further into the tunnel, walking together for a minute before we emerge out into a larger room of sorts, which is well lit. 

My eyes widen as I realise exactly what he means.

The room acts as his bedroom and bathroom, and also has space to sit and relax, the whole area having a homely feel to it. What was missing in the rooms in the house can be found down here, including more photographs, though these ones seem different to the others. They adorn the walls, all except one, which is decorated with a variety of weapons, both guns and knives. Going over to it, I look over the rifles and shotguns hooked onto the wall, struck speechless as I then turn my attention to a machete, the blade honed but chipped from use, seemingly out of place as it hangs beside another, smaller hunting knife. 

Moving on, I regard the photographs, only now realising that they're military pictures, many of them containing images of a youthful John in fatigues and uniform. A smile creeps back onto my lips as I feel my eyes land on a particular image of a group of men, where I can see John standing amongst them, a triumphant grin on his face, long locks of dark hair held back by a strip of fabric around his head. The others also smile, though there's something bittersweet about the inscription at the corner of the photo: Baker Team, Vietnam. As I look past the other pictures, I notice that the team slowly dwindles, beaming faces becoming drawn and solemn, eventually just leaving two people behind. Beneath this image is another inscription: Baker Team Survivors.

"That was my team in 'Nam." John says suddenly, voice husky as he remembers the friends he had, "None of them made it back. Not really."

Eyes wide, I look back at him, taking in the distant look in his own eyes, the barely concealed grief still raw in his expression as he stares at the photographs. Noticing my gaze, John gestures for me to come sit on the edge of his bed with him, the veteran pulling another photograph from it's place on his bedside table. Doing so, I make sure I'm not touching him, but am close enough to reassure him, waiting patiently for him to start talking of his own accord, knowing that this is a sensitive subject for him.

After a moment, he starts, his voice low as he pulls me into his stories, taking me through suffocating jungles and blistering heats, through recon and rescue missions, through bloody gunfights and hellfire,  through hours spent in torturous situations. He puts me in his shoes as he loses every single member of his team to the gruesome fight he should never have fought, the harrowing grief and pain of letting go of a comrade, someone who's supposed to be by your side for as long as the two of you can stay alive, laid bare for me to see and experience. And even as he moves on, back to familiar territory in the States, the fight never leaves him.

Facing harassment in what should be his safety and security, I can feel every bit of betrayal, of anger and grief that he felt as he is let down by his own country time after time, used again and again by the authorities to do their dirty work, only to be cast aside when it doesn't go their way, the old catchphrase he once lived by, "I've got your back, you've got mine" completely meaningless in this hollow life. His disgust in humanity is plain to me as he outlines his most recent forays into warfare, where the rage he felt is once again transferred to me, and I experience the violent need to take out the parasites in the world that destroy anything good that he did. It's as if I'm there with him, through everything, his description and memories so vivid they chill me to the core, keeping me hooked on his every word.

After a long while, he eventually trails off, and I realise there's a tear rolling down his cheek, his body shaking a little as he holds himself back. My heart breaking, I have to fight the urge to reach out and pull him into an embrace, not wanting to make him uncomfortable. I place my hand on his shoulder instead, rubbing the tight muscles soothingly until he looks up at me with the most heart-rending gaze I've ever seen in my life. At that point, my resolve breaks.

Carefully, I lean in and wrap my arms around his shoulders, pulling the veteran towards me. He goes willingly, sobs wracking his body as he wraps his own hands around me, burying his face into my neck, tears flowing freely now as he lets himself go, each pained sound agonising to hear. Tightening my grip, I lay back onto the bed, allowing him to press his body around me, holding me against his muscular form as I rub his back, whispering soothing things to him as his breathing starts to calm a little. It takes time, but eventually he starts to relax, body going limp as he lays in my arms, his larger form awkwardly wrapped around mine as he depresses his face into the crook of my neck.

I barely hear his broken voice as he whispers to me.

"Thank you." 

Breathing in his familiar scent, I just mould myself closer, pressing a gentle kiss to his forehead as he does the same to my neck.

"I'm here for you, John. I'm here, and I'll never leave. Not as long as I live, I promise."

[cinebration]

I’ll Tell Him (Geralt of Rivia x Reader) [One-shot]

To celebrate reaching 300+ followers, have this The Witcher one-shot!

Premise: A seriously wounded Geralt finds himself helped by someone with a mutual friend and an ax to grind.

Gif Source: hencavill

Pain.

The witcher had known it before, but something wasn’t right this time. It yawned beneath him with a bloody maw and wrapped him in an iron maiden.

Delirium made for a strange bedfellow. The world warped around him in fever dreams. First Yennefer, then his mother, appeared to heal him, but they weren’t quite right: too short, too tall, wrong hair, wrong eyes.

Sound distorted in his ears. At times he heard singing, quiet and soothing.

Jaskier?

“That’s good to hear.”

Who’s there?

Darkness.

Then the cycle began anew, and he burned.

~~

“You’re awake.”

You let the words hang in the air for a few seconds as the witcher blinked his yellow eyes, adjusting to the light of the fire.

“Who are you?” The gravel of his voice was rustier from lack of use during his convalescence.

“Someone who bothered to put your ass back on your horse and bring you to safety.”

Geralt tried to sit up, grunting with the effort. “Answer the question.”

Sighing, you replied, “I am a bard. Happy?”

He fixed you with a stare bordering on a glare, but you decided it was a byproduct of his pain. Sweat broke out anew on his brow as he tried to remain sitting.

“What would make a bardess stop for a wounded witcher?”

“Good question. Do you want one of your little elixirs?”

“No.” The word hissed through gritted teeth.

You arched an eyebrow before shrugging to yourself. “Suit yourself, tough guy,” you mumbled.

The witcher’s keen hearing heard you. “Answer the question.”

“What question?”

“Why did you help me?”

You laughed, a short sharp sound like a small dog’s bark. “I’m not much of a healer. You might want to take some time to decide whether or not I really helped.”

“Answer. The fucking. Question.”

You leveled a blank stare at him. Geralt’s frown deepened, his dour expression shifting slightly in surprise at your direct, unreadable glance.

“I’ve got to check the trap,” you said, rising to your feet suddenly. “If we’re lucky, we get dinner tonight. You need it.”

Turning on your heel, you stepped out of the firelight and melted into the shadows of the surrounding woods. Geralt eyed you warily as you strode off, trying to clear the fuzziness around his mind. Though the pain of his injury had subsided, it lurked beneath the surface. A deep breath sent a white-hot lance through his side.

Struggling to keep himself upright, he lifted the hem of his untucked shirt, noticing for the first time the massive slash through it. Underneath he found what looked like a torn tunic wrapped around his torso. Faint blood appeared at the topmost layer.

Grunting, Geralt peeled back the makeshift bandage. A nasty gash cut along his ribs, nearly an inch across and several inches long. Uneven stitches sealed it shut. The wound had already begun to heal, he could tell, but blood still trickled from between the stitches. He would need an elixir after all.

Steeling himself to stand, Geralt looked up, flinched in surprise.

You stood a few feet away, a hare dangling from your hand. The firelight cast you in warm, flickering shadows, alternating between friendly and threatening.

He hadn’t heard you return. Alarm bells rang softly in the back of his mind.

“I did my best,” you said, gesturing at his torso. “I was never that adept at sewing.”

Sitting beside the fire, you spread the hare out before you and took a knife to it. From the way you handled it, Geralt decided you weren’t very skilled.

Unless you were deliberating faking it to put him at ease.

Where was his sword?

“It’s eating at you, isn’t it?”

The question cut through Geralt’s heightening paranoia. Tensing, he growled, “What?”

“I haven’t answered your question. I should leave you without answering it.”

The playful tone that had underlined your precious exchange with him disappeared, an edge lining your words. Geralt’s alarm grew, working itself under his skin.

“But I won’t, because maybe telling you is better than making you suffer.” You paused. The fire popped a log as though nervous with the silence. “You should suffer, though.”

Roughly spearing the hare meat onto two sticks, you jammed them into the fire.

Geralt’s fingers began to form a Sign.

“I helped you as a favor to Jaskier.”

Geralt stilled. His yellow eyes fixed on you, trying to read your expression. Feeling his gaze, you glanced aside at him. The sincerity and hard look in your eyes convinced him. He relaxed—a fraction.

“Jaskier,” he said.

You nodded but didn’t offer more.

The quiet sizzle of cooking meat and crackle-pop of the fire filled the silence.

Geralt felt the question dancing on the edges of his mind, trying to find a way out of his mouth. He resisted the urge, but the longer he looked at you, your face dark despite the firelight, the harder it was to keep the question at bay.

Clearing his throat, he finally asked, “Have you seen Jaskier?”

“Yes.”

You pulled out one of the sticks and flicked it over to him. His reflexes kicked in, forcing him to catch it without thinking. Pain flared up his side. Gritting his teeth, he exhaled sharply through them.

When he glanced back at you, he found you staring, a faint smile on your lips. He glared at you, his brow furrowing deeply along familiar lines.

“What?” You shrugged. “Surely you’ve seen others relish your pain.”

“You saved me, but you want me to suffer.” He shook his head. “Decide which one you want.”

With an exaggerated sigh, you said, “I saved you because I know Jaskier would have wanted me to. But you should suffer, after what you did to him.”

Geralt didn’t need you to tell him exactly what he did. He pictured it clearly, Jaskier standing in front of him as he eviscerated his friendship with the bard. The look of hurt on Jaskier’s face…

You read the memories in Geralt’s expression and rocked back on your feet, plucking the other stick out of the fire. “Good,” you muttered. “You’re less of a monster than I thought.”

Geralt’s stomach twisted.

~~

He tried to convince himself that his fever-induced recovery period kept him from falling back to sleep now that he had been unconsciousness for several days, but Geralt knew otherwise. The fever had weakened him enough that he couldn’t compartmentalize, his mind too tired to muster up the energy to fend off the thoughts he didn’t want.

Memories of Jaskier floated up from the depths, keeping him awake.

Sunrise broke too soon. You roused shortly after the sun crested over the distant mountains.

Geralt was already on his feet, limping around Roach to saddle her. You watched with mild amusement for a few minutes before stretching out your legs and slinging your pack over your shoulder.

Geralt’s gruff voice reached you. “Thanks.”

“Don’t mention it,” you replied. “Really, don’t.”

You turned toward the east and plucked up a staff you had placed alongside a log, concealing it.

“That’s the wrong direction,” Geralt said. “Those villages have been—”

“I know. But that’s where hope is most needed.” You flashed him a brilliant smile that made him blink in surprise. “A little music goes a long way. Goodbye, witcher.”

Geralt let you walk a few paces before speaking.

“If you see Jaskier…” The words lodged in his gullet.

Glancing at him, you shook your head as you realized the words wouldn’t be spoken. “Sure, I’ll tell him.”

Geralt watched you go until you disappeared around a curve in the trees, wondering why of all the people to help him, it had been you and your guilt-inducing help.

[wiypt-writes]

Riding High

Ch2: Hey Sailor

Chapter Summary: Mary is excited for her first riding lesson, and it seems that she’s not the only one…

Chapter Warnings: Bad Language words.

Chapter Pairings:  Frank Adler x OFC Fliss Gallagher

A/N: Again, as you will all know I’m a Brit so apologies if too much British horsey lingo slips into this…ASK away if you don’t understand. Tagging all my SSB/CSI readers…if you want in or off the list PLEASE just tell me. This chapter is a bit of a filler, things start getting a bit more interesting in the next one, and then we’ll be diving into the Gifted story line in Chapter 4.

Thanks to my beta reader/sounding board @icanfeelastormbrewing​ for her input and her modes of transport kink...

Disclaimer: This is a pure work of fiction and classified as 18+. Please respect this and do not read if you are underage. I do not own any characters in this series bar Fliss Gallagher and the other OCs. By reading beyond this point you understand and accept the terms of this disclaimer.

Riding High Masterlist // Main Masterlist

Chapter 1

“Mary…” Frank sighed. “Take the boots off and get in bed.” “You told me that Miss Gallagher said I needed to wear them.” she looked at him.

“Yeah, but you can’t wear them in bed…”

Mary flopped onto the side of her bed and reached down to unzip the boots before she kicked them off and Frank picked them up and placed them out of the way. Mary shuffled down under her covers and lay her head back on the pillow and, once she was settled, Frank gently smoothed her blonde hair back off her face and smiled at her. Times like this she really did remind him of Diane.

“Frank?”

“Yeah?” “Can I read for a little while?” she asked.

Frank rolled his eyes “Mary…”

“Please!”

“Fine, fifteen minutes tops. And I’ll be in to turn the light off, ok?” With a grin she sat up and reached for her latest book- Moby Dick, and he dropped a kiss to her head and left her to it. He made his way into the kitchen, cleared the dishes and then grabbed a beer his attention turning to the table which was had clear, the other half scattered with the parts from one of the engines he had been working on. He knew he really shouldn’t bring this home with him but sometimes it was just easier.

His phone buzzed and he reached for it, glancing down at the unknown number.

“Hi Mr Adler, just a courtesy message to remind you of Mary’s lesson tomorrow at One. If you can’t make it please let me know ASAP so I can offer the slot to someone else. Otherwise see you then. Regards, Fliss.” Frank smiled, like he would have chance to forget. Mary had talked of nothing else since Saturday. His fingers hovered over the reply button, before he dropped the phone back down. He didn’t need to reply…did he? I mean…

Oh fuck it. What was a bit of harmless flirting? He picked the phone back up and tapped in a quick response.

“Like I’d have chance to forget. She’s been like a broken record since Wednesday. I had to pry her

boots off tonight as she was threatening to wear them in bed.” Setting the phone down he headed back through to check on Mary, her 15 minutes was over. He found her fast asleep, book clutched to her chest. Gently taking it from her, he slipped the bookmark into the page and turned off the lights, making sure she was tucked in. When he moved back into the main part of the trailer he had a reply.

“Brilliant! That’s what I like to hear. Get used to it, you’re going to hear about nothing but horses now for the rest of your life.” “Great, I can’t wait…” he set his Nokia down, not really having a smarter response to that, so he gathered a few pieces of the engine, setting to work. About five minutes passed and his phone went again.

“You know I offer starter lessons for adults too, maybe you should try it, see if you understand what the fuss is all about.” “No thanks, my feet stay firmly on the ground. Unless I’m on a boat.” “A boat? I didn’t have you pegged as a sailor?” At that Frank let out a bark of a laugh.

“I’m not, not really. I fix them. And besides, you don’t sail speedboats.” “What do you do then?”

“You drive them.”

“Do you drive them on water?” “Dur.” “That’s called Sailing.”

His work abandoned, he took a pull from his beer bottle and shook his head, smile tugging at his lips as he replied.

“But they don’t have sails…” “It’s a boat. It goes on water. It’s called Sailing.” “Alright, I bow to your superior knowledge…” “Glad we agree…even if I do detect a serious underlying tone of sarcasm in your message. See you tomorrow Sailor.” He laughed again, shaking his head. He tapped in a goodnight and placed the phone down, turning his attention to his work.

***** “What are you grinning about?” Bill Gallagher looked at his daughter as they walked across the field, Thor and his own dog, Rupert, hurtling ahead in front of them, their flashing collars keeping them located in the twilight.

“Oh, nothing, just winding someone up.” she smiled “One of the dad’s from tomorrow’s lesson, trying to convince me you drive, not sail, a speedboat.” “Hmmm…well they don’t have sails.” Bill mused.

“Whatever, they go on water, they sail.” Fliss shrugged, slipping her phone back into her pocket as Frank’s ‘Goodnight’ rounded off their conversation.

“So, who is he then?” Bill asked.

“Oh, his name’s Frank.” Fliss replied, nonchalantly, but her dad didn’t miss the flicker of a smile that hit her mouth.

“Is he the one that your mum said was eyeing you up in the bar?” “He was not eyeing me up.” Fliss groaned “He was just being friendly.” “Sure he was.” “Dad.” she warned him, nudging him with her elbow.

“What?” “You know what!” she laughed “Stop it.” “Alright.” he smiled, holding his hands up “I yield, it’s just nice to see you happy, that’s all.” “Well, I am.” she said after a moment, and she meant it “The last six months the riding school has taken off, I’m feeling more, well, myself than I have in years. Just need to find an apartment now.” “Well, on that.” Bill looked at her. “Me and your mum have been thinking. We thought, maybe, you might want to move into the annex. We can do it up, gives you your own space…”

Fliss paused walking and turned to her dad. “That’s where Steeby stays though, when he comes out with Sian and the kids.” “There’s plenty of room in the house.” Bill shrugged “And they come like what, four times a year? It’s stood empty the rest of the time.” Fliss bit her lip.

“It’s just an idea and your brother won’t mind. Look, I know it’s probably not what you had in mind, living in your parent’s annex but for the time being until the Yard starts to turn over more of a profit we just thought it might give you a little bit more freedom.” “Whilst still staying close.”

“I want to keep you safe Titch.” Bill shrugged “I didn’t do that before but,” “Dad don’t.” Fliss shook her head “None of that, it wasn’t your fault. I hid from everyone what was happening…you didn’t know.”

“I should have.” he sighed “You’re my daughter.” “He had everyone fooled, including me. This is no one’s fault but his, I get that now.” Bill smiled and pulled her into a hug. “I know.”

“We should head back.” Fliss smiled, pulling away. “Mum will be wondering where we are.”

“You have anything to finish off?” he asked

“Nope, everything is out for the night and looks reasonably settled.” she squinted at the various horses dotted across her land.

“Hmmm, unlike this fencing.” Bill frowned, examining the broken bit of post and rail that Fliss had patched up with electric tape “This could do with replacing, love.” “Yeah, I know.” she shrugged “I was going to mention it but forgot. The temporary fix has worked for the time being.” “I’ll stop by and do it tomorrow.” he nodded, “Won’t take me long. I’ll level that top field as well whilst I’m at it if you want.” “Thanks Dad” she smiled. In comfortable silence they made their way back towards the main part of the yard. *******

Fliss grabbed a bottle of water from the fridge in her office and took a long drink. The heat was pretty intense today, and she was just wondering if really holding Mary’s lesson as advisable when she realised it wasn’t like they’d be doing anything too strenuous. She adjusted her baseball cap and walked back onto the yard, shouting instructions to the three members of staff to go and take a water break. Just as they were passing her towards the office, she saw Frank and Mary walking onto the yard. Mary was sporting a new riding hat and Fliss couldn’t help but smile.

“Well check you out!” she said, tapping the little girl on the head “Nice hat.” “I liked the silver on it!” Mary grinned, pointing to the sparkly strip that ran along the front.

“Me too.” Fliss nodded. “I have the same hat but mine has blue sparkles.” she straightened up and looked at Frank. “Hey Sailor.” He gave a snort of a laugh “I told you, you don’t sail speedboats.” “They go on water.” Mary said, “Its’ sailing.” “Ha, see!” Fliss laughed

Frank sighed “Whatever.” The corners of his mouth turned up and he handed Fliss the forms he had brought back.

“Oh great…” she thanked him “I’ll just file these and then Ruby will get Monty ready. I thought you might like to help her.” Mary nodded eagerly. Fliss excused herself and Frank heard her shouting something and a moment later a tall, wirey Hispanic girl emerged from the office with a saddle. Fliss followed, bridle slung over her shoulder and gestured for Mary to follow. Frank watched as the girl skipped off following and headed after her at a slower pace, rubbing at his neck which felt like it was burning. He’d slathered Mary in sunscreen before but of course had forgotten his own.

He stepped into the relative cool of the barn and watched as the stable hand was explaining to Mary what each piece of tack was as she began to place it onto the pony. He knew Mary would be taking all of this in, just like she did with everything, and Roberta would be hearing all about it later on.

Fliss handed over the bridle and stepped back, heading towards Frank. “I normally do have the ponies ready” she said, almost apologetically “But I thought she’d enjoy this bit.” “You thought right.” Frank laughed “I was just thinking to myself she’ll be chewing our neighbour’s ear off later.”

Fliss smiled and they both stood in silence watching until the other girl said they were ready.

“Alright, let’s go!” Fliss grinned and they walked out into the yard. She took the pony from her staff member with a thanks, and walked with Mary following into the riding paddock. Frank leaned on the fencing outside as Fliss led Mary and Monty over to the wooden mounting block at the side.

“Ok, so…” she turned to Mary and patted the top step “Climb up here…” Mary hopped up.

“Left foot in this stirrup,” she instructed. Mary placed her foot in. “Left hand here,” she guided it to the front of the saddle, “and then I want you to swing your right leg over.” Mary did as she was told, sitting down on the saddle.

“Good stuff kiddo!” Fliss smiled as she checked the stirrups “Ok, so we need to put these up a hole so…”

She busied herself shortening the stirrup leathers, and eventually when she was happy she nodded.

“So, what we’re gonna do for today is a bit of walking around, and stopping, and then if you’re happy with your balance we can try a bit of trot ok?” Mary grinned.

“Right…so take your reins…” Fliss showed her how to hold the reins correctly, and then she slipped the lunge line through the ponies bit and looked at the girl. “If you feel wobbly or anything you grab this…” she said, gesturing to the leather strap around the pony’s neck. “And shout to me ok?”

Mary nodded.

Fliss began to walk besides the pony who followed her like a dog. Mary all the time concentrating on what she was doing. Fliss explained to her how her legs made the animal go, and how to make it stop, and they practiced that for five minutes before Fliss moved slightly further away to let Mary take a bit of control, instructing her to go, then stop, go, then stop…

Frank watched intently. He’d be lying if he said he wasn’t slightly nervous about Mary falling off but he knew that he had to let her discover all this for herself. He leaned further over on the fence, watching and couldn’t help but smile at the look on Mary’s face, she was concentrating so hard her brow was furrowed, tongue poking out from the side of her mouth.

“Your kid?” a deep voice with a similar accent to Fliss said and he turned to his right to see a tall, stocky guy in his sixties, maybe, dressed in a white T-shirt and jeans looking at him.

“Neice.” he nodded, “First lesson.” “Ahh...” the man chuckled “Yeah I remember Fliss’ first lesson. I crapped myself.” Frank let out a laugh “Yeah, I’m a little nervous.” “Bill Gallagher” The man stuck his hand out “Fliss’ dad.” “Nice to meet you, I’m Frank.” Bill looked at him, nodding before his attention turned to the paddock “Hey, Titch, sorry to interrupt…” Fliss stopped the pony and turned to her dad “Hey.” “Fencing is done but I can’t get that bloody tractor started, so the field’s gonna have to wait.” “I can look at it.” Frank offered immediately “I mean, if you want.” Bill turned to him, “You a mechanic?” “No he’s a sailor.” Fliss shot back and Frank rolled his eyes.

“I fix boats. Engines, that type of thing.” “Huh.” Bill nodded appraisingly. “Well if you wouldn’t mind…” “Not a problem. Mary you okay here if I go for a minute?” Mary looked at him “Dur.” Bill let out a chuckle as Frank turned to him “Tell me raising them gets easier.” “Oh no mate.” Bill shook his head, grinning “You just get different shit to deal with.” Frank followed the man round to the back of the barn and spotted a dark green baby tractor. Bill explained what it was doing and Frank crouched closer to have a look before he headed to his truck for the jump leads.

After ten minutes or so he’d found the problem. They could start it, but it wasn’t holding any charge. Meaning when the turned the engine off it needed jump starting again.

“I’m pretty sure it’s the alternator.” he chewed his lip, stepping back “I’ll need to strip it down to see whether I can repair it or if it needs a new one but we can get it started again you can do what you need to do for today.”

Bill nodded “So not quite ready for the scrap heap?” “Not quite.” Frank smiled, wiping his hands on his jeans “Just needs a bit of a fiddle with.” “Don’t we all?” Bill quipped, making Frank laugh. They jump started it again and Bill thanked him before hopping on and heading over to the gate that led to the field.

By the time Frank returned, he was surprised to see that Mary was now riding the pony almost unaided in a circle around Fliss who was holding the end of the line attached to the Monty’s bridle as it trotted around. Mary was gripping the strap round the pony’s neck and trying to rise in time to the trot. It was clumsy and she was a little bit out of balance but that didn’t matter. He could hear Fliss shouting gentle encouragement to her, counting out the rhythm and eventually Mary fell in time with her counts.

“Good!” Fliss beamed “see, I told you you’d get it…” This continued for another 5 minutes or so before Fliss told Mary to slow Monty down to a walk and give him a good pat. They walked the pony around for a while, to give him chance to cool down a little before Fliss walked towards Mary gathering up the line as she went.

“That was awesome for a first go!” she said, smiling “Did you enjoy it?”

Mary nodded “Yeah, it was really cool!”

“Good!” Fliss said. “Now I’m gonna unclip the line and walk around for a bit. He’ll follow me but when I stop I want you to stop him yeah?”

Mary nodded eagerly and she unclipped the line and began to walk. Fliss knew Monty would stop when she did but she wanted to let Mary have a go anyway. They did a lap of the paddock and on the second she stopped by Frank.

“Look, Frank!” Mary smiled “I’m not on the line.” “Yeah, I see!” he smiled at her “Good job!”

“How’s my tractor?” Fliss asked.

“Think it’s the alternator. We got it started for your dad but I’ll need to strip it down properly…I can come back tomorrow and sort it properly if you want?” “Oh, I don’t wanna put you out.” Fliss started to protest but Frank shook his head

“It’s no bother, honestly.” he ran his hand through his hair. “I can’t promise I can fix it but I’ll be able to see if I can or if you need a new one.” Fliss looked at him and then nodded “Alright, but in that case today is free.” “No, that’s not why I offered.” Frank began to protest but Fliss shook her head

“I know.” she smiled that damned gorgeous smile again, and Frank felt his stomach flip. “But I’d like to.” Frank looked at her for a moment, her brown eyes locked onto his and he swallowed, nodding. “Ok, thanks.” “Wait am I coming back tomorrow?” Mary asked

“I’m booked up, sorry sweetie.” Fliss looked at her “But you’re welcome to come anyway, that is if Frank says its okay. You can always give Monty a groom.” “We’ll see. “Frank looked at Mary.

“I can put her to work.” Fliss said, grinning “Nothing like a bit of child labour.” “That’s illegal.” Mary said.

“I won’t tell if you don’t.” Fliss looked at her and Frank gave a chuckle.

They made their way out of the paddock and Fliss showed Mary how to swing her leg back round the saddle and slide down. She landed on her feet and took the reins from Fliss’ hand, leading the pony back to his stable. She helped untack and then Fliss handed her the bridle to carry. They walked into the office and Fliss tapped a code into the door to the left and led them into a tidy tack room, rows of saddles and racks adorned the wall along with bridle pegs and a few shelves full of rugs and blankets for the horses. Fliss slipped the saddle onto a spare rack and then directed Mary to Monty’s bridle peg. Frank took the bridle from her as the peg was a little high and hooked it over.

“Now, you need a drink.” Fliss looked at Mary “I got water or some apple juice.”

 “Apple please.”  Mary said. Fliss nodded and headed back into the office, giving her a juice box from the fridge “Frank?”

“Oh, errr, water would be great thanks.” She handed him a bottle and he screwed off the tap.

“So, do you want to book in again now or do it tomorrow?” Fliss looked at him. “I think she’ll cope on the group lesson fine.” “So when do they run?”  Frank asked, swallowing his water.

“Saturday afternoons at two.” Fliss said. “Or Wednesday at six.” “Can we come Saturday?” Mary asked.

Frank hesitated “I did say you couldn’t do this every week.” “Yeah but you didn’t pay for today.” Mary shot back.

Jesus Christ

He glanced up at Fliss who was biting her lip, trying not to laugh.

“Fine, you can come this Saturday but then that’s it, we go to every other week like we agreed, okay?” Mary nodded.

“Settled, I’ll book you in.” Fliss grinned. “If you get here about quarter to I’ll introduce you to the other girls before you join.” Mary frowned a little, before she recovered and nodded. “Okay.” “So do you like work here every day?” Frank asked and Fliss nodded

“Mostly. If I want a day off then I get Joanne to cover the lessons and the girls can open and close up.” she said “But it’s few and far between. Like I said, still in the early days so…”

Frank nodded “Yeah I know what it’s like, trying to get yourself established.” “I take it you’re a self-employed sailor then?” Fliss smiled and he gave a grin back and nodded.

“He takes me for rides.” Mary said “In the boats sometimes.” “That’s really cool. I’ve never been on speedboat.” Fliss mused.

“You should come with us one day, right Frank?”

Frank hesitated a little, surprised to find that he wasn’t filled with dread at the idea of her joining them.

“I’m sure Fliss has enough to be doing without you demanding more of her time.” he shot the girl a look, his tone even.

“Yeah, I’m very busy.” Fliss smiled, offering him a way out. He shot her a thankful look.

“We can do it when you’re free…” “Mary!” Frank’s tone was exasperated as Fliss laughed.

“Maybe one day.” she said, nodding.

This placated the girl somewhat and she bounced off towards the truck.

“Sorry.” Frank turned to Fliss “She can be a little bit…” “Tenacious?” “I was gonna say a pain in the ass.” Frank shrugged, causing Fliss to laugh, her soft chuckles made him feel a little warm, or maybe it was the afternoon heat…

“She’s a good kid.” Fliss said gently.

Frank smiled and then jerked his head in the direction of the car park “I better…” “Sure.”

“I’ll drop you a message about tomorrow?” Fliss nodded “Yeah, but don’t put yourself out.” “Well I owe you now for the lesson so…” he shrugged “I’ll see you tomorrow.” “Yeah, guess you will.” Fliss smiled. There was a pause again and Frank nodded, before he turned and headed after Mary. He turned to look over his shoulder at Fliss who was now walking back towards her office before he wandered onto the car park to find Mary was now chewing Bill’s ear off.

“For the love of God.” he mumbled as he drew nearer to find her mid discussion with the man about the Olympics.

“Did you go?” she was asking.

“You bet!” Bill smiled “I’ll tell you something else as well…” “What?” “Those fences are even bigger in real life than they look on the photos.” “It said on the internet she jumped One meter forty!”

“The internet?” Bill asked.

“Yeah, we googled her.” Frank groaned “Mary.” “What?” she looked at him. “I was just saying…” “Well don’t.” He said, “Truck, now…”

“It was nice to meet you Mary.” Bill smiled as the little girl bid him goodbye.

“Sorry.” Frank apologised to him.

“Don’t be silly.” Bill waved his apology off. “She wasn’t doing any harm.”

“I meant about the google thing.” Frank sighed. “We weren’t prying, she was just curious after seeing the medal and…” Bill shook his head “Kids are nosey.” he shrugged.

With another nod he climbed in the truck and turned to Mary with a sigh “What did I say to you about not telling Miss Gallagher we googled her?” “I didn’t.” Mary said “I told her dad.”

There was a pause as Frank contemplated what she had said, and realised technically she was right. He should have closed that particular loop hole. “Smart ass.” He grumbled back, before he clipped in her belt and they left.

***** Fliss was surprised to see Mary wasn’t with Frank the next day. Frank explained he had come straight from the boat yard so she was busy doing some lesson work with their neighbour. “Gives me chance to work without her continually running around causing a nuisance.” he had explained, setting his tools down by the tractor.

Fliss chuckled, “Ok, well, I got another client due in a second so just give me a shout if you need anything.” He nodded. It didn’t take him long to realise he had been right. It was the alternator. He took the engine apart and was leaning over it on the flat bed of his truck when he heard footsteps behind him. He turned to look at Fliss.

“It is the alternator, but it looks like it’s the brushes inside.” he said, “I can fix this.” She nodded, the movement almost imperceptible, and he frowned at the look on her face. She’d glazed over in front of him, eyes were widened, almost like she was stuck in a memory.

And she was. Something about the fact he’d been leaning over the back of a truck, his grubby t-shirt riding up slightly, dirt on his hands and arms had stirred a really inappropriate thought in her head…which in turn had triggered another flashback.

“He was fixing the car.” Fliss looked at John “I offered him a drink, that’s all…” “He was in our kitchen.” John advanced “I saw you looking at him. Admiring him…” “I wasn’t…”

“Don’t LIE TO ME!” John’s voice as loud and then there was a stinging slap to the side of her face, which sent her reeling. As she recovered, the ringing in her ear still loud from the blow, she gently reached up to her cheek, tears stinging her eyes. John’s face was immediately apologetic, and he reached out for her, causing her to shrink back against the counter.

“You hit me.” she gasped.

“Sugar, I’m so sorry.” John stuttered, his eyes filing with tears “I didn’t, you just made me so jealous…I…” He held his arms out and pulled her to him, his hands on her back as he dropped a kiss to her head “I will never do that again, I’m sorry…” “Fliss?”

She started slightly and looked at Frank. “Yeah, sorry, I was…” “Miles away?” he frowned.

“Something like that.” she nodded, shaking her head “Sorry, you said you could fix it?”

“Yeah.” he said “I can take it with me and then I can bring it back Saturday unless you need it before that?”

“No, Saturday’s fine.” she said gently.

“Look, I don’t mean to pry but are you sure you’re ok?” he asked.

“Yeah, I’m good.” she spoke quickly. “Look, I gotta get on and…” “Sure.” he nodded, “I should be going anyway…” She smiled at him, and turned and headed back to the yard.

****

“You clearly triggered something.” Roberta said to Frank wisely as they both sat in his living room later that evening. He’d just finished telling her about the afternoon. “Some kind of memory.”

Frank hmmed his response. “Question is why are you so bothered?” Roberta asked.

“I’m not, I just, well it wasn’t nice to see. She looked so scared.” “Well you said her husband was sent down for assaulting her.” Roberta shrugged “She’s clearly had a lot of trauma. Maybe she just needs a friend.” “Yeah, maybe.”

“Could be good for both of you.” “I know what you’re doing.” Frank looked at her sternly

“I’m not trying to do anything!” Roberta chuckled

“Course you’re not.” he rolled his eyes before he changed the subject.

It wasn’t until he was alone later, that he pulled his phone out to text Fliss. He’d typed out his message, just a perfectly innocent one to check she was okay before he deleted it, shaking his head.

Whatever it was, it really was none of his business. He had enough of his own past demons to live with as it was.

But the more he lay there the more it wound him up. And he couldn’t get the thought of her out of his head.

“Fucks sake,” he grumbled, before he retyped the message and sent it.

**** Fliss was curled up on the sofa watching TV. Her parents were out for the evening so she was making the most of enjoying the space. Her phone went and she leaned over to grab it from the coffee table, unable to stop smiling as she saw who it was from.

“Hey, just wanted to check you were ok after before. I hope I didn’t do anything or say anything that upset or scared you.” The last line made her heart sink. He clearly knew about her past. Her dad had mentioned something about them googling her, and the case had been fairly big news amongst the equestrian circuit so she knew that the story was out there to read. Well, most of it was anyway. She rubbed at her eyes, thinking of how to respond. She hated that even after almost a year of him being out of her life John was till effectively a shadow she couldn’t seem to emerge from.

“It’s not your fault. I get flashbacks sometimes, nothing I can’t handle.”

“Well the past has a way of doing that. Trust me, I know.”

Fliss smiled gently as she tapped out her response. “Yeah, what is it Rafiki says on the Lion King? You can either run from your past or learn from it?”

Little over thirty seconds later he responded.

“Sound advice from a cartoon monkey…not always that easy in real life. If you ever want a non-judgmental ear to talk to, I’m a pretty good listener if you fancy a beer and a chat. Just as friends.” There was just something about this man, something that Fliss couldn’t help but warm to. She wasn’t stupid, the girls at the yard had told her a bit about him, his reputation amongst the ladies…he was a bit of a player from all accounts, but there was something there, something buried deeper, she could just tell. And what’s more, for the first time in years, she felt like she could trust another person other than her family.

It was for that reason she found it so easy to almost, sort of, maybe, possibly accept his invitation.

“I might just hold you to that Sailor.”

**** Chapter 3

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

When the Weight Comes Down - 4

Warnings: non-consent sex (series); nothing for this chapter

This is dark! (biker) Steve and explicit. 18+ only.

Series Synopsis: Your father’s a drunk, your mother a recluse, and you’re just another small town girl in Birch.

Sister series to Smalltown Bringdown

Note: Hope you’re having as much fun with this as I am. Thanks to everyone for their patience and feedback. :)

I really hope you enjoy. 💋

<3 Let me know what you think with a like or reblog or reply or an ask! Love ya!

Chapter Four: Twist My Arm

Culled and wooed, bitten, chewed It won't hurt if you don't move

💀💀💀💀

Your mother was awake when you got home but didn’t acknowledge you as she rinsed out your father’s empty beer cans and tossed them in the bin. Your father on the other hand snored in his recliner as the television continued to blare. You said nothing as you retreated to your room.

You set your alarm early and laid down in your old tee with the pink teddy bear on the front. You slept in spurts, jolting awake as your dream returned to the bar. With you trapped in the dim place and cornered by dark shadows. Your little digital clock roused you for good and you tiptoed to the bathroom.

You showered, dressed in a pair of jeans and a blouse with little frills along the neckline and sleeves beneath a sheer grey cardigan. You grabbed your boxy purse and shoved your wallet inside along with the pile of bills from the kitchen counter. Your mother was awake too but still silent as she ate a bowl of yogurt and granola. You left her like that.

The bank was mostly empty when you arrived. You went to the teller and paid a portion of each bill. You’d have to wait until your next check to cover the rest. Another call to the hydro company and hopes that you’d have hot water for the last half of the month.

You stopped at the diner for breakfast. You didn’t have the stomach for more than eggs and toast.Or the pockets. You had a tea and left a tip you’d regret. You were back on the street just after ten but had little desire to return home. Yet, staying in town was a prospect you weren’t fond of either.

You crossed the street and waved at Babs through the window as you passed the bakery. She smiled and looked back to her customer. You continued onto Lloyd’s and dipped inside. The man, Lu, you’d heard the girl call him, you were sure, sat at his counter with small glasses at the end of his nose and a book open.

“You again?” He remarked as he looked up. 

“Hi,” You said softly. 

He smiled and you quickly scurried between the aisles. You stopped before a shelf of notepads bound in leather. You weren’t sure what you were looking for; anything to keep your mind off of yourself; your family; Steve.

You couldn’t afford the large journal with its thick cover or the glass pens with the swirled handles. You opened a how-to guide on calligraphy and tried to calculate what you would be paid and what you owed. It might be a fun hobby. 

You went to the counter and hesitated. The old man didn’t look up from his book but you didn’t know if he heard you as when you stepped closer, he flinched.

“Miss?” He blinked at you and marked his page.

“Do you… offer credit?” You asked shyly.

“You got any old books? I’ll exchange credits for anything you got.” He said. “As long as it’s intact.”

“Oh, really?’ You smiled. “Okay, thank you.”

“Your welcome,” He said warmly.

“Sorry, I don’t… I can’t buy anything today but I’ll be back,” You offered.

“No problem,” He assured you and picked his book back up. “You have a good day.”

You left and thought of the box of books beneath your bed. That old copy of Moby Dick you never finished could go and the harlequin romances you’d hoarded from the thrift shop. You hadn’t touched those since high school and now you hid them in shame.

Your mind floated away as your feet headed towards your house. The rumble of engines sounded from across the street but your mind was eons away. You were only brought back to earth by the sharp rev of a motor right beside you. You glanced to the curb, the tire pressed to it, and then its owner.

“Hey,” Steve revved again and drew up his bike parallel to the pavement. “You didn’t forget about our ride, did you?”

“It’s not noon,” You looked at your watch. 

“Close enough.” He said. “We can go now.”

You peered up and down the sidewalk. Those who had been walking behind you had crossed to avoid the biker before you as others stood outside shop doors and watched nervously. You shrugged and shoved your hands in your jean pockets.

“I should go home first,” You said. “Tell my ma--”

“You don’t need to go all that way.” He turned off his bike and reached into his jacket. He pulled out his phone. “Give her a call and we’ll head out.”

You stared at his phone and chewed your bottom lip. You took it carefully and stared at the numbers on the screen. You dialed slowly and brought it up to your ear. You prayed she didn’t answer. Please be busy, please be busy.

“Hello?” Your mother’s voice chimed from the other end. You greeted her and told her it was you. “Why are you calling me?”

“I just wanted you to know I won’t be home for a while,” You looked at Steve. Better she didn’t know why though she’d figure it out soon enough. “I just didn’t want you worrying.”

“Okay,” She said tritely. “Bye.”

She hung up so sharply you were stunned as the line went dead. She was still mad at you. You handed Steve his phone back. You had hoped at least you could have told him she needed you home to help her with something but you hadn’t been on the call long enough for it to be a convincing lie.

“Did mommy say you could go?” He teased. You blanched and kicked your toe into the pavement.

“I’m not a child,” You whispered.

“Huh?” He said. “Sorry, I didn’t hear that.”

“I said,” You swallowed as you looked up. “I’m not a child.”

“I know,” He reached back and unbuckled the saddle bag. “Then act like it, doll.”

He flipped the leather flap up and nodded over his shoulder as he adjusted his perch on the bike. You grabbed the helmet and tried to recall how he had done up the strap the day before. You figured it out after a few tried but he grabbed your arm before you could climb on.

“If you’re gonna be my girl, you gotta start using your words,” He said. “But use them wisely, yeah?”

“I… I’m not your girl,” You struggled with him.

He chuckled and his hand flew up to your chin. He squeezed your jaw as he made you look at him.

“You know who I am? What this badge means?” He tapped his jacket with his other hand. “What I say, goes.”

You grabbed his wrist as you trembled.

“I don’t want to go,” You struggled with him. “Please.”

“If I have to get off this bike…” He warned. “You think anyone is gonna stop me?”

You gulped and thought back to the girl from the bookstore. She was braver than you and yet she hadn’t stopped Bucky last night. She had abided his errant hands and stolen kisses. You remembered her words. ‘Good luck’.

“Doll, I haven’t mistreated you, have I?” He let go. “I’ve been nice, so why don’t you get on and let’s head out.”

You nodded and he tilted his head. You cleared your throat and gave your ascent. He smirked and you grabbed his shoulder to hoist yourself over the small seat on the back of the bike. He reached back and pushed your knees against him. You wrapped your arms around him quickly and he turned the keys.

“You ever been to the city?” He asked as he rolled the bike out into the street. You clung tighter to him as the engine ripped through Birch and announced your departure.

💀

Your father had taken you to the city once as a child. You remembered it as gargantuan buildings and flashing lights. A beacon compared to Birch and its grim streets. The windy ride had left your cheeks numb and your thin cardigan did little to protect you. Steve pulled into an underground lot, the type you’d only ever seen on TV and he parked between two shining cars.

You got off and handed him your helmet. He hung both on the handle bar. He turned to you as you backed away but he caught you and drew you back.

“I didn’t get a kiss,” He pulled you close. He bent and you turned your head so he only kissed your cheek.

“I… Steve…”

“It’s okay to be nervous,” He raised his hand to cradle your face and make you look at him. “I’ll show you what to do.”

He pressed his lips to yours and you closed your eyes. His lips moved against yours and he poked you with his tongue until you opened your mouth. He hugged you tighter as he kissed you deeper and you weren’t sure what else to do but stand there. He parted gently.

“Just do what I do,” He purred and kissed you again. You tried to mimic him as best you could and he hummed before he drew away. “Mmm, like that.”

You were stunned. Shaking. He seemed pleased by it and turned you as he wrapped his arm around you. He led you through the lot, around the cars, and up a set of concrete steps. You found yourself in a large mall; you’d never been to one of those before.

“Oh,” You looked around at the shop windows. “Oh.”

Your purse felt even lighter and held back a cringe. You let him guide you as you shuffled over the tiled floor. He stopped you by a cushioned bench and faced you.

“Why don’t you have a look around?” He said. “I’ve got something to deal with but I’ll find you.”

Your eyes rounded and you frowned at the glowing monikers and glaring sale signs.

“I don’t-- I’ll get lost,” You said.

“It’s fine, you won’t,” He assured you. “Just stay inside. There are maps if you need them. A directory just around the corner.”

“Okay,” You knew there was no arguing with him. “Will you be long?”

“Shouldn’t be,” He rubbed your arm. “You’ll be okay, doll.”

He kissed you again, lighter this time. He reluctantly left you and when he disappeared around the corner you dared to look around. Other shoppers passed by without regard, as if you were invisible. You were used to that.

After a lot of hesitation, you found your way into a clothing shop and glanced around at the hangers. You checked a tag on a shirt you liked and gasped. You peeked over at the employee who had offered to help you but she seemed uninterested now. You quickly left and followed the smell of cinnamon to the food court.

You sat at a table hidden behind a fake fern and placed your purse on it. You pulled out your wallet and counted what was left in your wallet. You doubted you could afford a soda here. You packed it back up and dropped the bag on your lap as you leaned your elbow on the table. You read the little news bumper running across a screen mounted beside a Chinese food outlet.

You watched the clock in the corner; half an hour dragged by. You were surprised as Steve sat across from you and you perked up from your daze. He had a small white bag that he slid over to you. You stared at him over it.

“Go on,” He said.

“You didn’t have to--”

“Just open it.” He ordered.

You pursed your lips and looked inside the bag. You lifted the small box out of it. You carefully slid the lid off and a phone, much like his own, sat inside.

“It’s already set up,” He said. “It’s all yours.”

“I…” You blinked at the screen. “I can’t… afford--”

“I’ll take care of you,” He crossed his arms over the table. “Doll, I know you’re smart. You understand. I want to take care of you. Like your ma and pa never did. Don’t you want someone?”

You lowered your eyes and picked at the loose stitches that held the handle of your purse in place. You shrugged and your leg jiggled under the table. 

“There’s a case, too,” He said. “But if you want a different one, we can look around.”

You stared at your old blouse, your faded jeans, the small bleach stain by the knee. You felt completely out of place. A matchstick girl.

“I can’t--”

“I know what it is. You been taking care of them so long you can’t even think of someone doing the same for you.” He said. “You don’t gotta take care of them forever, doll.”

“I do though,” You countered as you looked up. “If I don’t--”

“They don’t know what they got,” Steve urged. “You’re too good to them.”

“You don’t know,” You frowned. “You can’t.”

“Are you that worried about them?” He asked. “You know, if you left, they’d find their way. They’re adults, like you, right?”

“No, no, my ma, she can’t leave the house and my pa…” You clamped your lips shut, embarrassed. “I don’t wanna talk about them anymore.”

“Well, I just think you should be as good to yourself as you are to them.” He said. “But I’ll be happy if you just let me be good to you.”

You chewed your lip and looked down at the phone. You’d never had anything like it before. You never had anyone to call anyway. You carefully reached into the bag and pulled out the other slender box; a phone case with a daisy on it, like the dress you’d worn the night before. You glanced up at Steve and he raised a brow.

“It’s up to you, doll,” He lowered his voice as he leaned over the table. “How good I am to you.”

[thereluctantinquisitor]

WIP Whenever

Thank you for the tag @captainsaku! At the moment, I’m still limping through the opening chapters of Stonebreaker, trying to get a feel for the story and work on strengthening my atrophied writing muscles. Anyway, I figured I’d share what I have so far of Adiran’s introductory chapter. It’s basically just an awkward, descriptive mess, but at least it’s something. At this point, I’ll count that as a win!

I also put a short glossary at the end in case some terms were confusing. <3

Chapter 3 - A Scene

Be present. Do not cause a scene.

They were simple enough requests, Adiran supposed, as he braced himself and drained his third flute of wine. He knew it was poor form to cringe after swallowing, but the dry white was about as pleasant as a mouthful of sand and only went down half as well. If he was the paranoid type, he’d think the servers were offering him the worst vintages on purpose.

Then again, the celebration had stretched into its ninth day, now. Even the royal cellars had a limit.

Despite overstaying its welcome, the event remained at a predictably lofty height of splendour. In the ballroom - Vetrose’s famed Silver Font -  delicate rivulets of water, no wider than the span of a hand, curled their way across the marble floor, draining into a shallow pool at the base of the royal thrones. Above their heads, weavelight strings were draped elegantly between pillars and across wide arches, their glowing pinpricks joining the blazing chandelier to bathe the room a honey-gold.

Beneath that radiant light, the Talveran nobility moved like swans, jewellery glittering, ankle-length gowns and embroidered jackets flashing enough to catch the attention of nesting crows. Hundreds packed the Font that night - an entirely different crowd to the evening prior, and likely the one prior to that. Attending Talveran court, with its litany of demands and expectations, was an exhausting and expensive affair. Every evening demanded a new outfit. A new glittering showpiece. A new plan for navigating the treacherous waters of social interaction, careful not to show too much interest in any one person. One night was difficult enough to survive. Very few could afford to be present for an entire turn’s worth of celebration.

Unfortunately, Adiran had no choice in the matter. It just had to be his brother returning from the northern border. As if no one else had ever come back from that waste of a campaign.

Another mouthful. Another weary swallow of something half as strong as it needed to be. Honestly, he’d almost rather be swallowing sand. At least that meant he’d be in the arena, getting his ass kicked practicing for something that mattered, instead of wasting his time decorating the wall. Divider’s Own, Lorvain was meant to have arrived by the third day! Adiran might have been able to slip away if he had been around to soak up the attentions of the lords and ladies. But no. The beloved Crown Prince had probably stopped to fawn over milkmaids and shepherds at every town between here and Morgate. Really, they should have accounted for that before throwing such a ridiculous event...

 A prince should want to know his people, Adiran. I thought you understood that?

Threading paths expertly between the nobility were almost three dozen servers dressed in vibrant Volise green. Silver trays were held aloft on the pads of their gloved fingers as they moved in rehearsed patterns around the room, making sure every hand that sought a glass found a delicate stem. It was a different sort of dance; the kind that typically went unnoticed, the same way a clock’s hands are appreciated more than the mechanism behind the face. They knew the position of every crack in the stone; every rivulet.

None of them ever looked down.

Speaking of timing, the only reason Adiran paid the servers any heed was to make sure he got his right. On cue, he finished his wine with a grimace and thrust it towards a well-groomed young woman, her dark hair braided and pinned neatly around her head. Without so much as an errant blink, she bobbed carefully at the knees, accepted the glass, and replaced it with a new one from her tray. 

“Careful not to drop that,” Adiran said, taking the drink and giving it an experimental sniff. Sweeter. Thank the Divider for that.

The server hesitated. They always did. Every night. “Your Highness?” she asked, and her lilt was perfection. Just the right amount of simpering, blended with polite curiosity. Someone had taken her training seriously.

“Am I slurring already? What I’m saying is that if the Crown Prince finally shows up and you’re in the middle of mopping a puddle, the King will have your hide for saddle leather. So...” He extended one bored finger towards the tray, a smirk curling the corner of his lips. “Tread lightly.”

The server’s mouth opened, and for a moment no sound followed. For just one blissful, fleeting second, Adiran thought he’d finally done it. He’d finally won. 

Then, like underappreciated clockwork, her lips shaped themselves into a beatific smile, and she dipped into a curtsy. The tray never even wobbled. “Thank you for your concern, Your Highness. On my word, I will remain diligent. I would not dare bring shame on our King’s house.”

Damn it. The smile Adiran flashed back - half a sneer - could cut glass. But the server had already completed her parting bob and returned to her dance, weaving and gliding among the gaggle of silver-bloods with her tray of weak wine. Expression turning brittle, Adiran huffed and leaned back against one of the massive marble pillars - just one of fifteen lining the room. He’d claimed it on the first evening, like a hound staking its territory. Most people knew better than to bother him once he’d found his haunt, but the serving staff simply didn’t have that luxury. He supposed it was probably unkind, to force them to speak to him. But Divider, he was just so bored...

Scowling, he took a long swallow of his new drink, the chilled, sweet liquid a welcome enough sensation as it ran down the back of his throat.

So he was unkind. So what?

“Are you finished losing to the servers for tonight, or should I come back later?”

A familiar voice, and right on time. Adiran gave no indication of surprise, barely even turning to acknowledge the man. After all, this was just another ritual for them; a way to take a knife to long hours of affluent, barely drunk loitering. “Yeah, I’m done. An earthquake couldn’t shake them.” His gaze finally cut across, delivering what he hoped was a scathing look as Riin settled against the pillar beside him. “Took you long enough. Get distracted by all the pretty gowns and pouting lips?”

Folding his arms across his broad chest, Riin chuckled softly, utterly immune to Adiran’s glare. “Could you blame me if I was? Everyone looks appealing under this light.”

“That’s generous of you.” Sniffing, Adiran glanced up. Even with the smoke-glass covers encasing each glowing orb, he still had to squint against the brightness of the weavelights. “Guess it could be worse. We looked more like corpses before the covers were put on.”

“Really? I’m glad I missed it.”

“Yeah. Being dead inside is more than enough.”

Riin laughed, and a faint smile curved Adiran’s lips. He quickly hid it behind his glass. Truthfully, the entire ‘weavelight saga’ had been ridiculous. The King and Queen had commissioned hundreds of them from Tel Shival, purely because no one else had ever done it. Even the wealthiest families only ever had a few per household, usually kept in a lantern or a sconce in the most frequented rooms. After two seasons of painstaking arrangement that nearly killed two of their staff, the Silver Font soon found itself bathed in a thematically violent silver light. It had been an exciting novelty, at first; nobility flooded in from all over Talvera just to bask in the glow of thousands of wasted sicets. But then they quickly realised that colours didn’t behave the same way. Their favourite jewellery didn’t catch the eye. Their skin didn’t appear as youthful and rosy. Instead, every flaw - every stray hair or unpolished button - was placed on stark display for the vultures to pick at.

The weavelights were as bleak and clinical as a physicker’s ward. They sucked the warmth out of everything they touched.

In Adiran’s mind, the wash of corpse-light over each soiree was a perfectly fitting thing. But, as was typical, no one else agreed. So, they decided to encase each of the weavelights in honey-tinted glass and returned the room to almost exactly how it looked before. Back when it was lit by oil and flame.

That was how things were in Talvera. Decisions were made, sicets were spent, and then everyone just wanted to go back to how things used to be. Like nothing had ever happened.

GLOSSARY

Weavelight - spheres of crystal or glass, with a light-bearing glyphstring engraved by a thaumist specialising in Weaving. Maintains a bright, steady silver light. Cannot be dimmed or turned off at will. Thaumist - a well-trained practitioner of the thaumic arts, capable of manipulating thaumic essence. Turn - ten days. Tel Shival - An independent, famously insular city dedicated to the training and cultivation of thaumists and thaumaturgical study. Sicet - Currency used in the Allied Kingdoms.

---

Tagging: @frenchy-and-the-sea, @leothelionsaysgrrrr, @bladeverbena, @thefluffynug, @rufinagertrude, @arduyn, @anarchyduck, and anyone else who has a WIP they’d like to share!

[emu-lumberjack]

A Quick Meeting pt. 3

The Bakery is open so it’s time for Marinette and Damian to have a chat. Only for Lila to interrupt. 

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

Don't ask me to explain, honestly I should just not be allowed around a keyboard while I’m tired. So here’s the next part.

Part 1

Part 2

Part 4

“Good morning and welcome to the Dupain----” Marinette cut off when she saw who had come in. Damian newly minted Wayne was dressed in his usual black turtleneck with jeans and some sneakers. The boy next to him she recognized from the other night, not knowing his civilian identity she resounded to just calling him superboy in her head. He was dressed in blue jeans, a white shirt scuffed up boots and a yellow flannel, obviously American. In a lower voice she said “Damian and company, how nice to see you. Done heroing yet?” She tried to be nice but just couldn’t resist the jab.

“Heroing? I have no idea what youre talking about, I’m just from America yup just a normal American boy. No heroing about me.” Superboy was a flustered mess blushing as he couldn’t figure out how to spin the lie convincingly.

“Oh can it Kent she’s already figured you out.” Damian said, curt as usual.

“Well it’s nice to see you’re feeling better ice prince. Have a nice time last night?” she motioned with her head towards the back. Hopefully he was smart enough to realize her parents were right next door and could hear almost everything.

“Sure though” he lowered his voice “I could’ve sworn I left something on your lovely partner's hair. If I remember correctly it was pink paint?” Marinette had to stifle a laugh. Knowing Adrien he wasn’t up yet which is why he hadn’t called her. “So Ms. Dupain-Cheng think you have enough time to take a breakfast break with us. Maybe talk over somethings?”

“Oh I think I could swing that. Let me just go tell my parents.” she walked towards the back leaving Damian and Superboy alone up front. “Mamman, Papa some friends have asked if I could take a quick break and eat breakfast with them. Is that ok?”

“Of course just don’t take too long.” Tom said.

“And if anyone comes in you’ve gotta help them.” Sabiene added.

“Done and done. Thank you.” Marinette said waving as she walked back out front.

“So are you free for a little bit?” Damian asked, and if she didn’t know better she would think he sounded nervous.

“Yeah, at least unless any other customers come in.” She responded. “Now what do you guys want.”

Minutes later the three were sitting around the table in the bakery. Jon, who had finally introduced himself properly to Marinette, finally got his macaroons. Damian went with a more conservative coffee and blueberry scone. Marinette had already eaten but she still made herself a coffee after all a heroes work never sleeps.

“So you have got to tell me how you got paint in Chats hair.”

“Well a Wayne never reveals his secrets.” Damian smiled.

“Wait how did you do that?” Jon said through a mouthful of Macaroon.

“Do what?

“Make him smile? That took me a month to do!”

“Well I----” Marinette was about to respond sarcastically when the bell above the door rang. “Well looks like I’m back on the clock sorry Jon, maybe some other time.”

“But….. But…. Come on I need to know!!!” He shouted as she went back behind the counter.

“Hello and welcome to the Dupain-Cheng bakery. How may I help you.” Marinette said from behind the counter.

“Oh I’m not so sure you can help me. After all, you've been so unhelpful lately.” Marinette groaned knowing that snively voice anywhere.

“Lila. how… can I even say pleasent, or would you somehow spin it in a way that makes me look like the bad guy.” Marinette was trying to be polite, trying was the optimal word.

“What is your problem Marinette.” Alya said from behind Lila

“Alya  I was just trying to make sure I don’t get my reputation any more slandered.”

“Don’t worry Alya, I’m just trying to be nice and order some pastries for me and my Damipoo.” Marinette swore she saw Damian choke on his coffee while Jon broke out into giggles. “And what is your problem Damian? And who’s this he looks like he came out of farmers weekly.” Lila turned her attention to Damian. The latter in turned looked towards Marinette. He looked her straight in the eye and nodded. Marinette realizing what he was about to do got a wicked grin on her face and nodded back.

“Lies you know I don’t like pastries, remember that incident in Munich? Also why are you being so mean to Marinette? From what you told me you two were best friends with MDC.” He saddled up closer to Lila, he had a head on her so she had to look up to him.

“What are you talking about Damian, and what do you mean MDC?” she looked angry, and confused. Marinette got out her phone and hit record.

“Well you said you finally wanted to reveal our relationship to the world, that you were ready for the world to know you were dating Damian Wayne. My father agreed, oh how my brothers couldn’t stop teasing us.” Damian grabbed her hand and brought it to his chest. “Also of course you know Marinette Dupain-Cheng is MDC, you wouldn’t tell me who she was so it took me a week to figure it out.”

“I... I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Come on Lies you told the world we’re dating. After all, you’ve known me as Damian Wayne since I moved to Gotham.” There was the money shot. Marinette zoomed in on Lilas pale white shocked face. Once she got a good look at that she moved the camera to where Jon was, because he looked about as shocked as Lila, but three shades paler. Before anyone could say anything she sprinted from the room. Marinette turned off the corner just in time for her and Damian to burst out laughing.

“ok what’s going on?” Alya’s voice came from the corner.

“Well it looks like Lila forgot to check my last name before spinning her newest lie, otherwise she would’ve known not to tell it. I am a Wayne after all.” Alya’s face slacked as she comprehended the words. At the same time Jon’s phone went off, he silently picked it up still stunned from the fact he just witnessed Damian fucking Wayne act like that.

“Jonathan Kent where in the world are you!” Jon winced as his very angry mother shouted from the other end of the line.  Alya went even more slack jawed as she realized that it was her idol Lois Lane.

“Hi mom, I’m in Paris. Damian needed my help with something so I came over.” Jon said innocently.

“Oh went right over. Just popped across the pond like it was nothing, I hope you can do the same thing and get back here or otherwise no tech for a month. After all Jon you can’t just ditch the house like that! Not even for a Wayne. Conner and Clark do it enough to give two lifetimes worth of heart attacks.”

“Alya it may be a good time to go.” Marinette quietly told her ex friend.

“I have so many questions. But before I go I need to tell you that I am so sorry about everything, about believing Lila and hurting you, and I have been such a terrible person. It’s taken me until now to realize how wrong I’ve been” Alya looked at Marinette, both girls tearing up a little bit. Marinette was just happy Alya was out of Lila’s mind control.  

“We can talk more about it later, I don’t know if I can fully forgive you right now, but I know I can at least a little bit.” the two hugged and Alya left, mumbling to herself about what she just witnessed.

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

Damian could still hear Lois’ shouts an hour after she was done. Once she was done chewing Jon out she called him to tear him to shreds about not letting her or Clark know about Jon staying in Paris for the night. Lets just say he was still recovering from those burns. A short knock on his window let him know Marinette was outside.

“Windows open!” he called from the living room. He heard it creak open and soft footprints soon after.

“Spots off.” she said entering the living room. In a flash of light the Ladybug costume was replaced with a pair of jeans and a white top. “Have I said you’re the best because you are. I don’t think Lila will be trying anything new for a while.”

“Good. I was getting rather annoyed at her.” He was gonna add a specific reason then realized, He didn’t need to. “On the topic of secrets there's something I need to talk to you about.”

“You’re Robin.”

“I’m sorry come again.”

“You are Robin.”

“And how did you find that out?”

“I looked through any pictures I could, I recognized the hairstyle. Plus most people described him as having the exact same personality as you. Then there's the fact he hasn’t been seen in almost two months. Which coincidence is exactly how long you’ve been here for.”

“I… I think you could rival Drake for deductive reasoning.”

“Is that a compliment?”

“Unlike my other comments about Drake it actually is. Now that was part of what I wanted to talk to you about. The other part was,” he took a moment gathering up the nerve to ask, “can we start training together? I’ve seen you’re fighting technique and it’s frankly amazing. Something the league of assassins never taught me. I’d be very honored to learn it.”

“I mean if you want too sure. When do you want to start?” Marinette looked almost excited.

“How bout now? I can race you to the Wayne enterprises building, we have a secret training room there.”

“That’s a deal.”

Once Damian had on his training suit and a mask, the Robin suit was back in Gotham at Bruce's orders,  and Marinette her Ladybug costume they set out across town. Damian only almost hit two bird nests which was actually an improvement, especially after months off duty.

“Aha beat you.” the red and black heroine cheered.

“You sure? The view from up here has been amazing” The boys black training suit blended in nicely with the night.

“How the hell did you get here before me and get up there?”

“Beat me in training and I’ll tell you. Now come on, want to see the training room?”

“Ten minutes. Got it.” Damian saw Marinette smirk from beneath her mask.

“Just come on.” he said blushing, Marinette gave a quick laugh. Damian was finally seeing the two as the same person, honestly it kinda struck him as strange not many others could. It was rather obvious.

He led the way down the twisty hallways of Wayne enterprises, avoiding the more active areas so no one would see him and Ladybug sneaking around. That might get a few too many looks for his comfort. Finally they got out of the fluorescent light and cramped walls of the hallways to the keypad and door that would lead to the training room.

Please give me your password sir, madame, or neuter. Alfred's voice rang from the keypad.

“Bloodson.”

“Bloodson? Really you chose that?”

“I was ten, like you never gave embarrassing nicknames at that age. Now would you like to go in first?”

“I think you might want to talk to him about going first.”

“What do you mean?”

“Just look.”

Damian turned around to see black sweatpants with a red t-shirt. Attached were pale limbs one carrying a water bottle the other a phone. Damian looked up to match eyes with Tim Drake, one of his least favorite siblings to deal with.

“Hey ice prince. Want to explain why you’re in training gear, which should be back at the cave. Or how about why you’re with someone clad in spandex, I thought that was just a super thing.” Tim surprisingly had finally gotten more than an hour of sleep which meant his deductive skills were actually sharper than normal. Not good for Damian.

“How bout I take option three: leaving and we never speak of this.”

“Yeah not an option, start talking. Now.”

Tag list: 

@clumsy-owl-4178 @pawsitivelymiraculous @yuulxd @smolplantmum

[isolemnlyswearpevensie]

In the Woods Somewhere | Caspian x Gender Neutral!Reader

Warnings: None :)

Time/Era: In between Prince Caspian and The Voyage of the Dawn Treader

Word Count: 1.8k

Summary: Y/N stumbles into Narnia during an insomnia ridden night. Alone and scared, a handsome king comes and rescues them. 

Request: can you do a gender neutral reader x caspian fic where the reader comes to narnia and is wandering the forest lost, and then caspian finds them and takes them back to cair paravel? thanks :)

A/N: Thank you so much for the request! Let me know if you like it!! :) I personally really like this one, and it’s my first Caspian fic! Please send me feedback or other requests, and I’ll happily write for you!

masterlist | read on ao3

Y/N’s room was dark. Honestly, it would be kind of concerning if it was bright, considering it was just barely four in the morning. Y/N laid snug in their bed unable to sleep for the third time this week. They had run out of methods to fall asleep; counting sheep usually worked but Y/N’s head was moving a mile a minute and they couldn’t focus. So in a final chase for sleep, Y/N  settled on focusing on how their sheets felt against their skin. Their pillow was plush, but the cotton of the pillowcase was hot from laying in one place for so long. The blanket clung to Y/N’s still legs. They weren’t the calming type of still, but so still that they hand to focus to not fidget them. They felt rather frustrated and claustrophobic, so Y/N pushed their blankets to the foot of their bed and rolled into the fetus position. Y/N didn’t know what they were expecting from this new position, but it was highly disappointing. 

Might as well get up, Y/n thought, swinging their legs over the side of their bed. They reach the arms towards the ceiling and twist their spine, in hopes that their stiff back would crack. With no luck, they push off their bed and look into their mirror. 

The mirror was a full-length rectangle mirror hanging on the back of their door by thin metal hooks. It was cheap too; the reflective surface had a very slight green tint to it and the frame looked like a cheap wooden picture frame. All the same, Y/N peered at their reflection with the light illuminating from their digital alarm clock. Their eyes were sunken in and bloodshot, staring holes into each other from the reflection. Their skin also appeared somewhat green, which was peculiar. It could be the green tint of the mirror, but it could be a result of their oncoming nausea. 

A crack in the glass catches Y/N’s attention; it wasn’t there earlier when Y/N  looked in the mirror. It was only a four-inch-long horizontal line running along the top and it didn’t impede the main part of the mirror, but it still made a sad feeling settle in the pit of Y/N’s stomach. Y/N brought their hand up and grazed the crack with their fingertip. As they do so, the crack grows exponentially. The mirror cracks rapidly, a singular line following the frame in a big oval and connecting to its beginning. 

Y/N stood shocked, glass doesn’t just crack like that. Usually, glass shatters or breaks into chunks, right? Y/N didn’t exactly know the precise properties of glass, but they were damn sure this wasn’t how it was supposed to act. As if on cue, the middle of the oval fell forward and shattered at Y/N’s feet. They had to jump back fast (and mumble a profanity or two) to avoid their feet getting cut. 

Y/N was too busy staring down at the broken glass that they failed to notice the amazing forest in place of the mirror. Y/N kneeled down and picked up one of the biggest shards. Holding it up to their face, they could have sworn they saw a lion flash across the surface. I really must be tired, Y/N thought, and stood up. They were expecting to see the green backing of the mirror when they glanced forward, but he was very mistaken. The cool breeze from the mysterious forest that definitely shouldn’t be in this mirror blew Y/N’s hair and pajamas faintly. 

“What the fuck?” Y/N said out loud. They glance around the room and scatter to their closet to grab some footwear. After tying their shoes haphazardly, they step onto the big pile of glass and stick their hand into the unknown land. The glass crunched and slid from under their shoes, making their body lurch forward. Now, they could look around the surrounding biome. It was early morning there, and the sun was just barely peeking over the horizon. Various trees sprinkled the area and birds chirped brightly. 

Y/N grabs either side of the mirror, careful not to cut their hand, and pushes their entire body into the unfamiliar surroundings. As soon as they do this, the mirror entryway they entered from disappeared into thin air. They were truly alone. 

“Hello?” Y/N calls into the air. They weren’t sure what they were looking for or if they wanted anything to answer. They didn’t know where they were, nor did they know what could be lurking behind the trees. A chill of paranoia ran down Y/N’s back as they fully comprehended their decision. They just had to go through the magic hole in their mirror instead of going to get someone like a rational human being. Y/N pulled their arms around their body (it was quite chilly) and began to walk in one direction. 

The trees started to get thicker and the ground got rockier the more they walked. The sky also got brighter as more time past; the clouds a bright pink in the sky. They reminded Y/N of the nights they stayed awake until dawn and watched the sunset from their bedroom window. 

Time passed slowly as Y/N continued their trek to who knows where. The only other life forms (besides trees) that they saw was a squirrel. There was an acorn a few paces in front of Y/N, and it scurried to grab it. The animal hadn’t seen Y/N at first but once it noticed them, it tilted its head and seemed to size Y/N up. For some reason, this made Y/N feel rather self-conscious. But, before Y/N could fully comprehend what was happening, the squirrel scurried off and Y/N was left alone once more. What felt like hours passed before Y/N heard horseshoes clicking against the woods floor. 

“What are you doing out here?” A deep voice called from behind Y/N. 

“Pardon?” Y/N turned around to see a very handsome man sitting upon a large horse. He had shoulder-length hair that just barely scraped a chainmail neckpiece. The chainmail carried down his large torso and fed into a thick leather belt. 

“I asked what you were doing out here, it’s barely seven in the morning.” The man’s voice held a thick accent that seemed to drip from his tongue like honey. One of his large hands came to adjust a leather strap that fell diagonally across his chest and came together with a brass buckle. Upon further inspection, Y/N discovered the strap was attached to a wooden crossbow that was resting down his back. 

“I’m sorry, but I’m not quite sure where I am,” Y/N responds, standing their ground. They didn’t want the man to think they were attacking him and shoot them with an arrow. 

“Well, of course you don’t. How long have you been walking? You’re at least an hour on horseback from the kingdom. What are you doing out here?” At this point, he swung his leg over the side of his horse and jumped off of the saddle. As he approached Y/N, they noticed how sharp his features were. His jaw came down in a straight line and led into a strong clef chin. His nose came to a stiff peak that drew Y/N’s gaze up to meet his kind eyes. The stranger’s shoulders were broad and powerful, too, and the large armor covering them made them look even broader. 

“Kingdom?” 

The man grew close enough to take in Y/N’s appearance. They were dressed in patterned pajama pants that were tied at the waist with a jaw string, a thin T-shirt, and sneakers. They looked very out of place next to the stranger with his armor and horse. Or maybe he was the one out of place, Y/N couldn’t quite decide. 

“You do know where you are, right?”

“Well, if I did, I wouldn’t have told you I didn’t know where I was.” Y/N’s voice wasn’t sarcastic, it was more dismissive and as if they were pointing out the obvious. 

“You’re in Narnia, my friend.” The man seemed to get a grasp on what was happening and his features relaxed visibly. 

“What’s Narnia?” 

“Ah, I have friends that come from your land. I am not exactly sure how to explain it, but the way that they explained it to me is that people from your world come here for a reason. You wouldn’t happen to be from spare oom, would you?” 

“Spare oom? What are you talking about? Are you going to shoot me?!”

“No, no, of course not. I am Caspian. I am the King of Narnia.” His smile is warm and comforting. “I know you must be confused.” “King?! What’s going on?!” While he was extremely attractive, that doesn’t mean he should be trusted right off the bat. King Caspian noticed their uneasiness and took a step back. 

“What, is it that hard to believe that I’m a king?” 

“Well, I mean, you’re not wearing a crown so…” 

“Yeah well, when I meet attractive people in the forest I don’t’ usually like to start out with formalities.” Y/N’s cheeks reddened a little. “Speaking of formalities, your name would be?”

“Y/N, um, so I’m in a magical world? And you’re the king of said magical world?” 

“Well, one of them. There are two other kings and two queens. They aren’t here right now; they had to go back to your world-”

“-I walked through a mirror to get here.” Y/N interrupted Caspian. They quickly remembered that he was in fact a King and that he could very easily shoot them. 

“And they arrived by wardrobe. The first time, anyway. I don’t quite understand how they got here the second.” Caspian kind of rambled, which made Y/N relax a little bit. It was cute. Maybe he wasn’t going to shoot them. 

“Right. How do I get home?” 

“I’m not sure, but not by wandering through the woods, I’ll tell you that.” Caspian mounted his horse again and offered Y/N a hand. They stared at it and stayed in place. 

“Where are you going?”

“I’m taking you back to the castle,” His hair blew in the breeze and a section fell in front of his eyes. “It’ll be easier to explain once you see it.” 

“I really must be tired…” Y/N mumbled to themself before taking his hand. Caspian pulls Y/N up and places them behind him on the horse. The horse took off and carried the pair into the distance. Who knows, maybe something great could come out of this. He did say everyone gets brought into Narnia for a reason, right?

[frostsinth]

Royal Flush - Pt. 5

Prologue - Part 1|2|3|4 -  Art | Art | Art  -  MasterList

I had this mostly finished, and since interest in the story has picked up and I am very attached to this part, I decided to post it. Call me crazy.

Apologies... I hope you guys enjoy this section... It certainly gave me feelings. I really need to work on some of my other stuff. But these idiots have stolen my full attention.

Stop by my MasterList above to read more stories, and feel free to BuyMeACoffee while you are there. Drop me an ask with thoughts/comments/questions, and DM me if you’d like to commission your own artwork or story. Enjoy!

True to his word… I did not see Grier the following day. I slept restlessly, and woke with the sun. Neither a particularly unusual phenomenon, however the reasoning behind it certainly was. I felt guilty, and torn. Part of me felt as though I had acted too harshly, requesting to see my sister alone. Honestly, until he had said something that was the impression I had been under. Then there was guilt, for having made him upset. It was certainly not my intent. But another part of me was angry that he was mad at me. Who was he to demand inclusion into my private affairs? Who was he to think he could meet my sister, the one light and joy in my life? A quiet voice reminded me that he likely thought he was my intended, so why wouldn’t he? Our families would be joined by marriage soon, and he had openly welcomed me to his…. I didn’t like the sound reasoning of that voice, and chose to ignore it.

I moved almost eagerly to the door at the knock not long after dawn. But had to work hard to hide my disappointment that it was only General Damjan for our promised morning spar. I followed him reluctantly to the training cliffs. Though I did find the match pleasantly distracting; nothing quite like getting the blood pumping in a fight. There was no time to dwell on emotions or regrets in the ring. One had to live in the moment, and for that I was grateful.

But still, I was quickly made aware that I wasn’t at the top of my game when one of the General’s obvious feints landed home. Knocking me solidly onto my backside. His head cocked to the side as he offered me a hand up, big ears flopping.

“Something on your mind, Your Highness?”

I gave a very unprincely grunt, then winced. I couldn’t seem to keep my composure. It was getting harder every passing minute I was here. It made me anxious to think I might be all but completely exposed now. I glanced at the General, but he merely offered me a kind smile. At least I hadn’t managed to offend him, I thought to myself ...Yet. 

I took his hand and let him yank me back to my feet. My toe scuffed at the ground while I rubbed at the back of my neck.

“Apologies, General…” I said sincerely, “My head seems to be… elsewhere this morning.”

“You thinking about the King?” I jerked at his words, glancing over at him as I quickly managed to get my composure back up after the slip. Damjan merely laughed. “My turn for apologies. It’s not my place. But I did see His Majesty looking quite… sour, this morning.” A sheepish grin formed on his lips. “Honestly, I was surprised to see him at all. The man is not exactly what I would call a ‘morning person’. Must have had a restless night.”

I glanced over my shoulder, half expecting to see the goblin in question standing at the wall of the ring. Damjan whistled lightly, bringing my attention back to him as he tossed me the waterskin. I nodded appreciatively, and took a long, deep drink from it.

“You know, although he’s always been a... spirited fellow, I’ve never seen the King lose his head quite like… Well,” He dropped off, slapping his big hand on my shoulder. I sputtered slightly, choking a little on the last bit of water I had been in the process of swallowing. “... I think it’s good for him. Having you around.” He grinned again. “Maybe you’ll level him out.”

His words lingered with me as I spent the rest of the day in my empty rooms. I dared to use the bathing room, though I jumped at every little sound. But it was refreshing to finally get all the dirt and sweat from the past few days off. There was only so much a basin of water could do. I found the pools to be surprisingly hot and relaxing, and lingered far longer than I usually would bathing.

An attendant I didn’t know brought food twice during the day, and I thanked him politely both times. He grinned and bounced about eagerly, but said nothing. Otherwise, I was left alone with my thoughts. Of which I had many. Most of which circumvented around Grier. And my sister.

A second restless night had me out of sorts at dawn, shortly after which a lighter knock had me up to find Hibik at my door. He led me to the courtyard, where a fine team of horses was hitched to an extravagant looking gold inlaid carriage imprinted with the Royal Crest. I almost faltered in my step when I saw the goblin King standing beside it.

He turned to me as I approached, his thin lips pursed, his brows pinched. Scarlet eyes looked me up and down, and he crossed his arms over his chest lightly.

“I’m coming.” He declared, his authoritative “don’t-argue-with-me” tone in place before I even had time to open my mouth to formally greet him. “I won’t interfere with your time with your sister. But I will not allow you to leave these lands unaccompanied.”

I considered the armored guard mounting up behind him, settling into their saddles and adjusting their weapons. But I hadn’t the strength to argue; I was already frayed from nearly a week of borderline sleepless nights and day after day of emotional reckoning. I wondered briefly if this was what tortured prisoners felt like; constantly on the edge of breaking, but desperately clinging to the notion that they could hold out. I was glad I had always kept prisoners in my care in good conditions if it was.

I nodded formally to him. “As you wish, Your Majesty.”

He scowled deeper at my words, and climbed into the waiting carriage. I hid my steadying breath with a brief glance around the courtyard, giving an acknowledging nod to the driver who tipped his hat to me respectfully.

The inside of the carriage was favorably dark, but not uncomfortably so, and had wooden seats lined with soft cushions. We sat across from each other against the back wall, and the footman closed the door behind us. The tension settled between us heavily, and the air felt drier for it. I pretended not to notice him glaring at me. A few moments later, we started off.

The sounds of the outside world were muffled, and I glanced through the small curtained windows. Curious despite myself, though I was careful to keep that from my face. Didn’t need to look like an eager child, gawking at the strange lands. It had been dark when I had first arrived at the castle; I hadn’t been able to properly see the outskirts of the city that spread from beneath the mountain onto the countryside. I jerked slightly back as we passed some citizens on the road, not sure if I was welcome to be seen by the general masses.

“The windows are charmed.” Grier told me, his voice bitter. I flicked my gaze over to him as he leaned back. “Sounds from outside are muffled, and they cannot see nor hear us.” His scarlet eyes flicked out his own window. “Commonplace magic for the Royal carriages.”

I didn’t see a need to answer that, and so used the opportunity to lean forward slightly and peer out the window again. Stone walls and colorful stucco buildings passed us by, then we were quickly out to the fields. It seemed the majority of the city really was buried beneath the mountain as the legends said.

“So, my young Prince,” The King said coarsely, finally breaking the terse silence after a long portion of travelling had passed, “Did I foil your plans? Coming along thus?”

I gritted my teeth, steeling what was left of my will, and turned to face him. “I am not sure what you mean, Your Majesty.”

His scowl somehow deepened, pronouncing his already prominent brow. “Well, I assumed you intended to use this “reunion” as a way to flee my Kingdom. After all, why else would you insist on meeting alone?”

Anger wrapped hot fingers around my gut. “As you insist you wish to know more about me, Your Majesty,” I replied, my face flat and my voice cold, “Allow me to inform you that I never go back on my word. If you will learn nothing else, know at least that.”

His eyes flashed. “Oh, my apologies, Your Highness. It would be hard to learn much of anything from a man made of stone.” He cocked his head to the side, wild hair flopping about. “I thought perhaps I had made a permanent crack in it and saw flesh beneath. But I believe now that was a mistake. Though on whose part, I have yet to determine.”

I didn’t justify that with an answer, turning to look back out the window. I thought I heard him huff, and heard the seat creak as he shifted. There was a long, hot silence then, interrupted only by the bounce of the carriage over stones in the road. 

“Is it ingrained so deeply in you to hate my kind?” He asked finally, breaking the quiet between us again. “I thought…” I heard him suck in a breath, “I thought perhaps you were different, but the fact that you won’t even trust me to meet your sister leads me down a different trail of thought.”

I had to work to keep the anger from my face and voice. I didn’t look at him, though I knew it was incredibly rude and disrespectful. Part of me wanted to insult him thus. Part of me was just too damn tired to keep up the charade. I wasn’t sure how long we had been riding, but our speed seemed to have picked up. Another hour or two of this, and we should be at the border. I just hoped I could make it there in one piece.

I cut myself back from making an equally harsh retort, and swallowed hard, falling back on courtesy answers. “I apologize if that is how Your Majesty chooses to view-”

“How else am I to view it?” He snapped back, and I had to clench my hands into fists to keep from swinging at him. “What else am I to think, after-” He stopped himself, his voice breaking. The goblin gave an angry sigh, shaking his head. “After yesterday, I thought… I thought we might be… connecting.” I resisted a wince, but felt myself tighten at his words. “I thought maybe…” I saw him shift his jaw out of the corner of my eye. “But then, you switched back, just like that-” he snapped his fingers “-and now I sit across from a statue again, and am expected to be content that he is to be my husband.”

I pinched my lips into a thin line, swallowing my reply as soon as it surfaced to sit on my tongue. My temper was flared, and I was struggling to keep it in check. His words from the previous night came to mind. All his promises, all his assurances.  He claimed he would give me time, but as soon as I faltered and showed even a hint of anything that displeased him…  And I realized; I didn’t make him happy. The idea of me made him happy. The promise of an exotic husband, a regal ceremony, an evening companion. Not me. Not who I was. Though I couldn’t entirely blame him; for after all, what did either of us know about that person? The sudden understanding stung, and I couldn’t bring myself to reply for another long stretch of silence.

“You really have nothing to say?” His voice was peteringly soft, and I was surprised it sounded more like a plea than an accusation.

I turned my eyes on him, careful to keep them as empty as I could manage. “You seem to have already made up your mind about me, Your Majesty.” I told him, my own voice soft. I wasn’t able to mask it as well as my face; I could taste the fraying at the edges, and wondered if the pain in it was as evident as it was in my chest. “...I am not sure if anything I could say would change it.”

Another long silence. So long I lost track of it, turning to stare back out the window. Trying not to linger on what the future might mean for me and the goblin sitting quietly across from me. Trying not to think about Morgana, or the ache settling in my bones at the thought of seeing her. He seemed to be deep in thought as well, and it was nearly an hour before I heard him sigh.

“I… I just don’t understand why you…” He started, and the hurt in his voice had me glancing at him out of the corner of my eye. He sighed deeply again, shaking his head and leaning forward to cup it in his palms. “These last few days… I thought things had changed between us… but maybe it hasn’t been enough.” He rubbed at his face, then leaned back again. “I promised to give you time. And I am also a man of my word… Patience is… is not one of my virtues, I know. But for you… I will give as much as I can. Please forgive me my lapses.”

The carriage was slowing, and I realized we must have been at the border. Grier momentarily forgotten, I checked the horizon to see the sun nearing its zenith. My heart leapt, and my stomach rolled with anticipation. Not long, I told myself. Not long now until I could see Morgana again. My heart ached, and I felt myself waver. Felt my strength ebb. Gods, I was so tired. I felt so shaky and weak. I was not ready for this. I couldn’t even begin to think what to say... The carriage stopped, and I heard boots coming around to the door.

His hand caught my arm as I moved to disembark. I looked over at him surprised, and I knew my mask had slipped from the way he considered my face. His own looked pained, and I saw him hesitate before his resolve returned.

“Just… can I ask why you wanted to see your sister alone? Can I beg that answer of you?”

I looked down at his hand. “... Because... I know I am not strong enough… And..” I dropped off, surprising myself with the words and the honesty in them. I swallowed hard.

He released my arm, his brow furrowed lightly. “...Not strong enough for what?”

I slowly started to build up the mask again, but felt as though it didn’t quite reach my eyes when I answered.

“... To say goodbye.”

...

I glanced over at Grier, still lost in my thoughts, my hands clasped behind my back. He wasn’t looking at me, speaking softly to the few goblin guards and attendants. Giving orders, I supposed, and I shifted slightly. I couldn’t make out the quiet words from this distance, but it seemed a likely guess based upon the respectful stance the men took before saluting and marching off. The anxiousness sitting in the pit of my stomach didn’t lessen as the King turned, seeming to sense my eyes on him. His face was scrunched, and I wondered for a moment if he was still mad at me. But his scarlet gaze didn’t linger, instead flicking just past me to the road. A breath later, he turned and retreated to the front of the carriage. I could only just make out his shoulder around the corner as he leaned against it. Hardly another breath passed before I realized why he suddenly seemed to be hiding.

“NIKO!” Came the shout, and my heart leaped at the voice.

I half spun to face the road, realizing I had been so lost in my own thoughts I hadn’t even heard the other carriage approach and stop perpendicular to ours a few yards away. But the tiny ball of unbridled joy hurtling at me as fast as her little legs could carry her? I did just manage to see that. Instantly, I dropped to one knee, and caught my little sister’s flying embrace.

She wrapped her little arms tightly around my neck, burying her face against me. Her fluffy and thick untamed curls smelled sweet and were soft as clouds as they brushed against my cheek. I wrapped my own arms around her, squeezing her and swallowing back the tears that suddenly welled in my eyes. Gods, how I had missed her.

She laughed, wriggling in my arms, trying to break free. “Niko! I can’t breathe!”

I released her, my face instantly brightening and a smile splitting it from ear to ear as I leaned back to appraise her. It felt strange. My first smile in days; it made everything feel a bit better. Her grin was nearly as big as mine, and she was bouncing with excitement. I pushed her hair back, looking her over. But she seemed in good health as well as good spirits.

“Hey, little chickadee,” I breathed, running my thumb over her cheek. She leaned into my touch, “It’s good to see you too. Did you get taller?” I teased, tweaking her nose, “I swear you were only up to my knee last time I saw you!”

She laughed, swatting away my hand. Despite her dismissal, she beamed at me eagerly, then a scowl formed on her face. 

“Where’d you go, Niko?” She demanded, putting her hands on her hips, “You promised you would only be gone for a few days!”

“Ah,” I shook my head, “Sorry, I should have written. My plans were… changed.”

“Did the goblins capture you?” She asked, and she sounded more excited about the idea than afraid. “Are they holding you for ransom? Do I need to come rescue you?”

I laughed, shaking my head. “No, little chickadee, I don’t need you to come and save me today.”

She seemed a bit disappointed, and I took up her hands and gave them a gentle squeeze. Her head cocked to the side slightly. “The court says you got a Treatsy signed with the goblins. And Val says you’re getting married…”

I stiffened slightly, and my smile shrank by a molar or two. I glanced over her shoulder, and saw Gareth standing by the carriage. A deep scowl was set in his face as he jerked his chin to order the soldiers to spread out. Creating a tense circle of goblins and humans around us. I was pretty certain he was too far away to hear us. He seemed to be making enough of a point not to look at me.

“A Treaty, not a Treatsy.” I corrected her gently. “And Valerianus is right, I am getting married.” I told her, forcing the worrying thoughts out of my mind and giving her my full attention.

“Are you marrying a goblin?” She asked, sounding both bewildered and absolutely awestruck.

I laughed lightly again, nodding and dropping my gaze shyly. “Yes, little chickadee. But not just any goblin.” I cuffed her chin playfully, trying to belittle the seriousness of what I was about to tell her. Trying to hide the dread of her impending reaction. “... I’m marrying their King.”

Her little lips formed into a pout. “You can’t marry a King, Niko!” She exclaimed, scolding me as if I were trying to trick her. “You’re a Prince! Princes don’t marry Kings.”

“Goblin Princes do.” I assured her lightly, trying not to let my voice falter.

She considered this, biting her fingernail. “Oh… Ok, That’s fine then, I guess.” I gently pulled her hand away from her mouth, resisting the urge to sigh with relief and feeling altogether lighter for her instant acceptance. “Do you like him? Is he nice?”

I hesitated, the hairs on the back of my neck prickling. Very aware that Grier was probably able to overhear us; in the typical manner of a nine year old, she certainly wasn’t making any effort to keep her voice down. And our carriage was closer than hers. I resisted the urge to look over at him off to my left. I spared him a brief thought, wondering what he was thinking. Wondering if he was watching; though I had little doubt he was. He was far too curious. I glanced down at her hands in mine, and my smile returned.

“... Well, little chickadee, I don’t know yet. But... I think I might.” I brushed her bushy hair back from her face. “...And he’s very nice.”

“Hmmm.” She grumbled, pushing my hands away and crossing her arms over her chest. “Well, he’d better be nice to you! Or I’m gonna beat him up!”

“Morgana,” I scolded, and she faltered as I used her real name, “You can’t just go around and beat people up.”

She snorted, stomping one foot. “I don’t care! If he’s mean to you, I’m gonna-” She stopped at my warning look, then gave a little huff. Scuffing her feet in the ground. “...When are you coming home, Niko?”

My heart stopped at that, and my smile sank away. I swallowed, and scooped her into another hug. I had to close my eyes to hide the wetness welling in the corners. She seemed to sense my pain, as she always did, and her little arms wrapped as far around me as they could manage.

“I’m not, little chickadee,” I told her honestly, “I have to stay with the goblins.”

Her grip tightened, and she buried her face in my neck. “I miss you, Niko. I don’t like the castle when you aren’t there.”

I almost broke at the quiver in her voice. I swallowed hard again, stiffening and slowly pushing her back. I cupped her face in my palms, running my thumbs under her eyes. I could see the dampness there, and it threatened to overflow in my own eyes at the sight.

“It’s my responsibility to the Kingdom to keep this treaty. To keep the peace. It’s my honor to do this for our people. And to do so, I have to stay with the goblins…” I explained to her, dropping off at the end. “...But you’ll still see me,” I managed finally, “... I’ll come visit and-”

“Can I come live with you?” She interrupted, and then started bouncing on her toes in excitement. “Can I come to the goblin castle??”

I hesitated, but a small, sad smile returned to my face. “I don’t know if that’s a good idea, chickadee.”

“Oh please, Niko! Please!” She begged, and I could already see her imagination going wild. “It would be so much fun! And then I could make sure the goblin King is nice to you!”

I couldn’t help but laugh. She always knew how to cheer me up, though I knew it was mostly unintentional. Her vigor for life, her smile. That was all I needed to be happy. But my joy was tinged with sadness, as I could see Gareth getting restless behind her. Soon the light of my life would be carted away again…

“And what about our King, hm?” I pointed out. “Who will keep an eye on him if you come to live with me? And on Valerianus? Someone needs to keep our brother from getting a big head.”

Morgana giggled as I fluffed her halo of hair in illustration, pushing away my hand again. Then she pouted, shaking her own head. 

“Yeah… Maybe…” Her little brown eyes wobbled as she considered me sadly. “... Father doesn’t talk about you anymore. He acts as though you are dead. I don’t like it.”

I stiffened at that, and had to work extra hard to keep my disappointment and pain from my face. Morgana was too perceptive for me to let even a flicker show. And she knew me far too well for it to be an easy feat.

“... I’m sure he’s just mad at me,” I told her softly, brushing my knuckles over her cheek, “... He’ll come around… You know how he is.”

She didn’t push the issue further, and I saw her glance over towards our carriage. I wondered if she could see Grier there. “... Please, Niko? Can’t I go with you? I swear I’ll behave! You won’t even notice me!”

I sighed heavily, looking at her big brown eyes. “Not yet, little chickadee… But maybe someday. When you’re older.”

She scowled. “That’s just how adults say ‘no’.”

I chuckled, grinning at her and cuffing her chin tenderly again. “Some adults. Not me.” I ran my hand through her hair one last time. “...You can come visit, ok? Once we get everything sorted.”

Morgana considered this, and I saw her eyes dart over to the side again. She had never really seen too many goblins, especially not this close before. I knew she was dying of curiosity. But she must have sensed our time together was short. She chose my company over her own adventuring spirit, and shuffled her feet restlessly. It made my heart hurt.

“... You promise?”

I took her pinky and wrapped it around mine, bringing our hands to my heart. “I promise.” She smiled, wiping at her eyes with the back of her hand and sniffling. “Now you have to promise me something.” I waited until she was looking at me properly again. “You have to stay at the castle. And listen to Valerianus,... and Gareth. Ok? No running off. No sneaking out.” She nodded. “Morgana, do you promise?”

She sighed, as heavily as a nine year old could, and I smiled. “Ok, ok, Niko. I promise.”

“Princess,” Called the old guard in question over her shoulder.

“It’s time for you to go, little chickadee.” I said, swallowing back the pain in my throat.

Morgana lunged at me, wrapping herself tightly around me once more. She squeezed so tight I thought she might pop out her elbows. I enveloped her in my own arms. Closing my eyes to dam the tears that threatened to break through my defenses.

“Princess, we must be going,” Gareth called again, his voice cold.

“Give them a minute.” Came Grier’s command, his voice sharper than I think I had ever heard it, and I felt the tension of the gathered men grow.

A human soldier stepped forward, eyeing the goblins warily. Looking for all intents and purposes like he intended to take hold of Morgana’s arm to take her back to the safety of their ranks. I shot him a look over her shoulder that had him stopping dead in his tracks. He shrank back fearfully from the intensity of my glare, retreating towards the carriage. The other soldiers shifted, looking more than a little anxious and exchanging uncertain glances. Morgana’s arms somehow managed to tighten more. I scooped one arm under her, slowly standing with her pinned against me still. Curling around her protectively.

“Don’t worry little chickadee, it won’t be so bad.” I tried to assure her, putting everything I had ever learned about hiding my emotions into keeping the sadness from my voice. “And when I see you again, I’ll have dozens of stories to tell you.”

“I’m not a baby, Niko,” She grumbled against me, “I don’t need you to tell me bedtime stories.”

I leaned back, and she did too slowly, meeting my gaze. “Not even goblin stories?” I teased, and saw her eyes flicker with interest.

“... Well… Maybe a few then…”

“Princess!” Gareth’s voice grew to demanding levels. Morgana glanced over her shoulder at him.

“Go.” I told her, slowly placing her feet back on the ground. “... I’ll see you very soon, ok?”

She nodded, her hands lingering on my arms. But then she straightened her back and stiffened her little lips. Putting on the same practiced stoicism she had seen me use a hundred times. It stung to see her hiding herself away. I almost winced in pain at the sight. Turning, she made her way back to the waiting carriage and Gareth. She didn’t quite make it halfway before she glanced over her shoulder at me again, her mask breaking at the edges. I offered her a small smile as well as an encouraging wave... and my mask didn’t break.

Gareth shot me a poisonous look as Morgana climbed back in the carriage, but I chose to ignore it. The soldiers maintained their guarded stances until the Princess and her escort were well underway. Finally, they turned, and with armor clanking, trotted after it.

I couldn’t tear my eyes away from the carriage, and saw Morgana’s little face appear in the back window. My lips tightened as I saw her place her palm against the glass, and barely managed to give her a tiny wave. I nearly choked as they slowly faded into the distance, then crested over the distant hill and out of my sight.

I didn’t hear Grier come up beside me, but I sensed him there. I wasn’t sure how long we stood, gazing off at the empty horizon. I took long, slow breaths, trying to find some semblance of composure. I heard him shift, and noticed him open and close his mouth briefly. Finally, I dropped my gaze, staring at the ground but unseeing. Pushing back the pain and sadness that threatened to undo me. I didn’t say anything to him, turning and making my way back to the carriage.

We had already been bumping along for a long time before he did finally speak. I stared out the window, my eyes pointed at the countryside flying past but still not really seeing anything at all. I felt like the stone he professed me to be; cold and numb. A statue in the shape of a prince staring off into the distance. I would look right at home in the goblin King’s gardens.

“Your sister seems very sweet…” He offered quietly, “... I can see why you are so fond of her.” I didn’t answer, but felt my teeth clench. “...She could come and live with us,” He said, his voice barely above a whisper, “...If you wanted.” A nervous chuckle fell from his lips. “We certainly aren’t wanting for space.”

“No.” 

I barely managed to form the word through numb lips, it was all I could manage in my current state, and knew instantly it wouldn’t be received well. I didn’t look at him, but I could feel his pain as palpably as if I had stabbed him with a knife myself. A few agonizing minutes ticked past after my harsh rejection. Adding more guilt to my already stifling emotions.

“If you still have some misconceived notion that I would wish her harm, or this is all some elaborate ploy, then perhaps you have a deeper mistrust for me than I originally believed.” He had traded the hurt for anger when he finally spoke again, and his tongue was as sharp as any sword.

I didn’t have the strength to answer him, and my eyes never moved from the distant horizon. I wasn’t even entirely sure I was blinking anymore. Couldn’t remember the last time I had drawn in a breath that didn’t feel like I was swallowing fire. I would have winced at his words, had I not been working so hard to become the living embodiment of stone.

He sat in silence for a moment, and I could almost hear his thoughts swirling. Had I been more conscious of my surroundings, I might have noticed the anger and pain fighting for dominance over his features. As it was, I felt only the hollow pit of my own sadness. I didn’t have room for anything else. I didn’t dare move my head, lest my neck snap in my fragile state.

“Do you think I or any of my people would ever hurt a child? Do you really think so little of us?” He came back, his voice quivering with his rage. “Perhaps that’s what the real problem is, hmm? Not some bastardization of a childhood that forgot to teach you how to express yourself or understand your emotions. We disgust you… I disgust you. That’s why you can’t bear to look at me, and flinch whenever I touch you. Maybe you were just starting to get used to it. Thought you could pretend long enough to make it a reality.” It took me longer than I cared to admit to realize he was talking again, so lost was I in my despair. That only seemed to make him madder. “But hey, you did your duty, yes? You’ll sacrifice your own happiness for your people. For your sister. Gods forbid you ever ask for anything for yourself. Even if it would be better for both of you in the long run.”

An icy grip settled over me, and my jaw tightened. “Don’t talk about my sister.” My hands started to shake, and I clenched them into fists. 

He scoffed, crossing his arms over his chest. “Oh, I’m sorry. Am I not worthy enough to speak of her? Do I disgrace her memory by even daring to think of her?” He narrowed his eyes at me. “Something so perfect as your Princess shouldn’t be mentioned in the same breath as a Goblin.” He leaned back, scowling. His words stung and I felt my resolve quivering beneath the surface of my mask. Felt my pretense of stone breaking.. “The poor thing locked away from the world. No friends save for that bastard guard of yours and your lout of a King. But you’d rather leave her with those monsters who would turn her into another statue like you than suffer her my people. What a life you’ve chosen for her. I’m sure she’ll love it, just like you do.”

The carriage jolted over a rock, and I jerked involuntarily. My eyes squeezed shut, but it was too late. Too late to catch the single fat tear that rolled down the corner of my eye. I swore my skin burned as it slid along the edge of my nose slowly all the way down to my jaw. I half hoped he wouldn’t see it, but based upon the sudden tense silence, I knew he had. I raised one hand, wiping it away with shaking fingers. Clenching every muscle in an effort to keep from quivering, but failing miserably anyway. Struggling to push the pieces of my shattered heart back together. I could almost taste his shock, a bitter addition to my palette. The fresh silence rang painfully between us.

“... I… Forgive me… that was too harsh of me.” He murmured finally, his voice thin.

I shook my head, and took a shamefully shaky breath. I clenched my fist, swallowing hard to try and force the composure back onto myself. 

“N-No… No you’re right…” I stammered, then clamped my mouth shut and shook my head again. I tried a steadying breath. It didn’t help. “I-I’ve..” I stopped, then tried to start over. “I’ve abandoned her… I’ve f-fail… I’ve failed her.” My voice broke again, despite my efforts. “D-damnit! I just… I just-”

I heard the creak of the worn cushion as he stood, then felt the seat beside me depress. I could feel his heat, could hear his breath.

“You didn’t fail her-” I stiffened at his voice, trying to get my emotions back in check “-You did what you had to do... To protect her.”

I sucked in a deep breath through my nose, and let it whistle out my mouth. Slowly, I opened my eyes to find Grier next to me, searching my face. His heavy brow was knitted, and I could tell he was torn. He must have still been mad at my rejection, but I could see him longing to reach out to me in the way his hands twitched in his lap and how he leaned as close as he dared across the small seat. I stamped the wave of emotions back, swallowing hard and shaking my head a final time.

“...It’s not about you. Why… Why I said… what I said...” I told him finally, satisfied that while my voice was still peteringly soft, it didn’t shake with the weight of my guilt. “Maybe at first I was worried… but…” I stifled a sigh, looking down at my hands. “You’ve… you’ve been…” I struggled, the words choking in my throat. I ran my thumbs over my palms, staring at them to avoid his waiting eyes. “... I feel… I feel horrible…” I had to close my eyes again. “I feel so… so guilty… Knowing that she’s… she’s alone and I… While I…” I purled my hands into fists, so tightly the knuckles turned white.

I jumped as his own hand slid over the fist resting on my knee closest to him. I opened my eyes to look at it. His three slender fingers and long thumb. His grey-green skin. So strange and foreign to me. To everything I had ever known. But the warmth of his skin against mine… I felt my hand relax incrementally, and sighed deeply.

“Damnit, Grier...” I breathed, his name coming unbidden to my lips, and I used it like an anchor. Longing to just… tell him everything. Yet lacking the means to do so... I felt his hand twitch against mine at the sound of his name. I closed my eyes briefly again, before finding the strength to meet his gaze. He watched me quietly. “If it were up to me, I-I... I would take her back with us in a heartbeat…” I looked away from his distressed face, unable to process his emotions as well as my own, looking off to the side of the bouncing carriage, “... But the King would never…”

I dropped off, pain welling in my chest again. This time it mixed with anger, and I felt my jaw tightening stubbornly. I felt the strength leaving me again, felt the edges of my composure cracking once more. A scowl settled on my lips as I tried to fight the numbness and despair that threatened to swallow me whole.

“... You always call him ‘the King’.” Grier pointed out softly, and I glanced at him out of the corner of my eye. “Never ‘my father’. Even Morgana called him ‘father’. But I’ve never heard you call him that.”

“If he had ever once been bothered to act like a father to me, maybe I would.” I snapped, then winced at the harshness of my tone. “I-I’m sorry, I… I didn’t mean to...It’s... it’s complicated…”

He didn’t press the issue, running his thumb lightly back and forth over my knuckles. I watched it, and felt strangely comforted by the touch. Slowly, I began to relax, even letting another sigh escape my lips. Grier shifted a little closer, until our thighs brushed. I glanced over at him hesitantly.

“... You could have put it in the marriage contract,” He mused, “We could still try to make the amendment-”

I shook my head before the words were fully formed in the air between us, stopping him in his train of thought. “The King and Court would never agree to that. Not now… and…” I shifted, looking down at our hands again, “...Despite everything else… he’s still her father…” I swallowed hard, my brow scrunching, “She should have the chance to know him. Make her own opinion without mine smothering her.”

He snorted, seeming displeased at that answer. But he said nothing more on it. Instead, he ran his palm over the back of my hand, then over my wrist, before sliding it back down to my knuckles. I felt goosebumps spread up my arm at his touch, and let out a hitched breath nervously.

“You know… I’m a little jealous of your sister.”

I raised one eyebrow at him, a little surprised at the sudden change in topic. Momentarily distracted from my pain. “...Jealous? Whatever for?”

He gave me a sheepish grin. “Well… I’ve never seen you smile before…Not once… Not even a little one...” I felt my ears grow hot, “I was beginning to think you just weren’t the type… then she appears, and…” His smile grew wider, “And it was like seeing the sun for the first time…” He glanced down at our hands, and I felt him squeeze mine gently. I swallowed, following his gaze. Hesitantly, I turned my fist over slowly beneath his grip, letting him trail along to gently push my fingers apart and trace his over my exposed palm. “... You’re very handsome, did you know that?”

“...You’re just saying that to distract me.” I mumbled after a few incoherent sounds, feeling like my lips just weren’t quite ready to work right. My face scalding hot and my heart racing. ”You like making me flustered…”

His grin returned, mischievous and stretching all the way to those scarlet eyes. “Of course!” He slowly intertwined his fingers with mine. “... But that doesn’t make it any less true.”

I couldn’t find any worthwhile response to that, and so said nothing. I didn’t move, frozen perfectly still in place. Afraid to ruin the moment. Grier seemed content to run his fingers back and forth, tracing the lines in my hand and running along the edges of my fingers. His touch was so light, I almost shivered at it. He trailed up and down my hand, then over the tendons on my wrist. The carriage jostled and bounced around us, but everything seemed to move in slow motion. The only thing I could hear was my blood rushing in my ears. Then I saw him wince, and he sighed, shaking his wild hair. 

“... I’m sorry… I’ve been a selfish ass… thinking it's always about me…” He sighed again, “I just thought… You really confuse me, you know?... I never know quite what you’re thinking.”

I worked up enough courage to gently squeeze his hand. “... If it makes you feel better… I-I rarely know what I’m thinking either…”

His laughter rang like music in the air around us, and I felt my blush somehow deepen. “Then it seems we are a good match, my young Prince... “ He mused as his laughter subsided into deep chuckles. 

He squeezed my hand back for good measure. I saw his face fall slightly, and knew he had more he wanted to say. I waited quietly for him to sort it out, still feeling raw and restless from my own outburst. 

“... I thought maybe you were ashamed of me…” He said finally, his voice shaking, “I got mad because… I thought you were starting to be comfortable with me… but as soon as you thought someone might see us…” He shrugged, lifting up his free hand to rub the back of his neck. “It’s silly, I guess.”

I faltered, looking off to the side. I drew a steadying breath, letting it out slowly. “That’s a good word for it… ashamed.” I wavered slightly, and felt my hand shiver in his. “... I am ashamed…” I felt him stiffen beside me, and I quickly shook my head. “But not of you.”

He relaxed slightly at that, though he still wore the tension in the lines of his face, and ran his thumb over the soft webbing of mine. “...Then what?”

I couldn’t bring myself to answer. My lips quivered, and I tightened them, pursing them together into a thin line. It all came to me then. Fresh and raw and exposed. I couldn’t hide it, couldn’t deny it to myself. It was in the light now, and the honesty burned into every inch of my soul, bleeding pain into each pump of my heart. He continued to rub his thumb lightly back and forth, waiting as patiently as he could muster. The carriage bumped and jerked, and I looked out the window. We were nearing the city borders again, and the sun was starting to dip towards the horizon.

“Nikostratus…” I winced at my name, but turned towards him slightly, still not meeting his gaze. “If you’re not ashamed of me… then what are you ashamed of?”

The numbness spread through my chest, threatening to stop my heart. Slowly, I raised my eyes to meet his. As they did, I felt my composure falter, felt my mask slip. His keen eyes became frantic suddenly, searching back and forth across my face. I saw the understanding light in their depths, and his brow furrowed as it did.

“You are nothing to be ashamed of,” He declared, lifting our still clasped hands together and pinning them against his chest, “Nothing, do you hear me?” I tried to turn away, feeling the emotions welling in my eyes and struggling to keep them from spilling over. But his free hand came up, catching my cheek. “You are a good person, Nikostratus. There’s nothing wrong with you. You deserve every happiness.”

I let out a sad, shuttering laugh, shaking my head. He stilled it with his hand at my cheek. “I’m not sure I believe you.”

“Let me convince you.” He breathed, turning me back to face him gently. “Let me spend our lives convincing you. Undoing whatever tangled knot you’ve wrapped yourself into. Undoing whatever that…” He stopped short, sucking in a breath. “... you are mine now, Nikostratus… and I won’t let you hate something that I love.”

My eyes widened at that, and I froze like a startled deer. I saw him falter in his confidence, as if the realization and weight of his own words hit him at the same time they hit me, but then it quickly returned. He met my stare head on, those scarlet eyes fierce. I almost couldn’t hold his gaze, and would have looked down had he not still had his hand at my jaw. I felt raw, exposed; weak and frayed. I didn’t know what to think. I struggled, fighting against the binds slowly wrapping around me. I began to rebuild the wall fearfully, feeling my features stiffen and harden as I did.

“Stop. You don’t have to do that,” He told me, his voice aching, squeezing my hand in his, still clutched to his chest, “You’re allowed to have emotions. You’re supposed to have emotions… You don’t have to hide them away. Especially from me.”

I faltered at that, and my efforts stilled. My mouth opened and closed a few times, and I finally managed to tear my eyes away from his. He kept his hand on my face though, and after a moment I raised my free hand. Gently laying it over his on my cheek. I hesitated for two heartbeats, counting them out, then leaned into his touch. His skin was so warm. His touch so gentle. I felt him shift even closer, until I could smell the faint hint of sage and myrrh. I wondered if he bathed in it, or just burned it in his own chambers.

“... I’m not…” I closed my eyes, shivering, then winced for having done so, “I’m not… strong enough...” I felt tears burning my eyes again, and squeezed his hand a little tighter. “Dammit… I … I just…” My mouth flapped uselessly.

“You don’t have to speak…” He murmured. “I know I’m… I know I made things more intense…” He chuckled quietly, moving his thumb along my cheekbone, “I know I’m always going to be a bit ahead of you. Especially emotionally… I’ll try not to make things worse, though-”

“You make things better.” I told him, the words spilling from my mouth before I could check them. I cringed, fearing perhaps I had overstepped. Panic rising in my breast.

When I managed to open my eyes again, to search for his across the sudden silence, I found a warm look waiting for me. It breached the numbness settling in my bones, and I took a slow, deep breath. Feeling my tension ease a little more.

“I’m lucky.” He replied after a little while. “I’m so damn lucky… This arrangement could have gone a million times worse… but instead I got you… and…” I felt his hand quiver against mine, and I squeezed it instinctively, surprised to feel it flutter. “... and to think that maybe you might…” He sighed, then his toothy, teasing smile returned. “It’s not quite the perfect happy ending though... I’m still jealous of your sister.”

I laughed weakly, shaking my head. “I’m not sure who’s more of a child… you or her…”

His grin widened at my own quiet teasing, encouraged by my laugh. “Well, it’s hardly fair! She gets more leeway than I do.” He exclaimed. 

“She’s nine.”

“She calls you ‘Niko’!”

“...She’s nine.”

“So?”

“She stumbled over the word ‘treaty’ and you expect her to say ‘Nikostratus’?” I felt my lips twitch with amusement.

He pouted. “Common is my second language. If I pretend to struggle with it, can I call you ‘Niko’ too? I feel like she might be pretending. Just to keep up the pretense of ‘adorable little sister’.”

I was happy for the distraction at first, but the reminder of Morgana made my face fall slightly. He ran his thumb back along my jaw.

“I’m sorry… I don’t mean to keep bringing her up.” He murmured. “I see it’s hard for you…”

I nodded, giving a shallow sigh. “... I miss her… but…” I glanced up at him, “... Maybe talking about it… helps.” His smile warmed me again, and I swallowed hard. 

“Can I ask why you call her ‘chickadee’ then?”

I curled my fingers around his, pulling them gently down from my face to rest beside our other hands I brought to rest on my knee while they were still clasped. I stared at them for a moment, the corners of my mouth twitching at the memory. I traced my thumbs back and forth over his.

“It’s a type of bird,” I explained softly, “It makes a sound, very unique to it… and when she was little… when she was a baby, she used to cry like that…” The smile stole itself onto my lips. “... chicka-dee-dee-dee-dee-dee.” I sang softly, then shook my head. “I used to come running at the sound. I would tell her… ‘I hear you, little chickadee, I’m coming’ and she would stop crying... I guess the name just stuck.”

“Was it just you caring for her?” He asked curiously, “She had no nursemaids?”

I snorted. “She did… But I wouldn’t let them near her… Not unless I really had to.”

He laughed. “A little over protective of her, no?”

“Always….” I stared down at our hands for a long moment. “She is the one good thing in my life…” I stopped, swallowing hard and shifting, “... Was the one good thing…”

“...Maybe now you can have two?” He finished for me, questioning and hesitant.

I hid a smile with another shake of my head. “I’m not sure I can be so lucky…”

A loud clatter announced our arrival at the castle as the wheels clacked over the drawbridge. I jumped nervously, then dropped his hands. Leaning away with the pretense of looking out the window again. I steadied myself, turned away from him, fixing my posture and taking a long, deep breath. I was intensely glad for the privacy charm on the windows, allowing me to look out without being observed. The smattering of goblin faces that looked up curiously as we passed had my stomach flipping in knots. I wondered what his people thought of him marrying a human prince…

We rolled up to the inner courtyard, where there were far less prying eyes, and I heard the sharp click of boots as the attendant came around. Grier led the way out of the carriage, then up the shallow steps to the castle. Ducking us quickly out of sight into the private halls. He paused there, looking over his shoulder at me as another attendant rushed to bring us a lantern.

“...Shall I bring you to your rooms, Prince Nikostratus?” He offered.

I nodded quietly, glancing at the goblin who darted over with a light. He passed it up to me with a bow, and I thanked him politely. The little thing, hardly higher than my hip, seemed delighted at my words. I watched him excitedly bounce away, curious.

“Goblins love to please.” I nearly jumped at Grier’s voice, and turned to look at him. He smiled, gesturing for me to follow him. “It is in our nature… We live for praise and recognition. Even in its simplest form.” He led the way through the halls, head cocking to the side. “All the staff are already quite fond of you, I believe”

I tried not to blush too deeply at that, quietly following after him. We didn’t speak as he led me deeper into the castle. Though I wasn’t sure if it was from hesitation, exhaustion, or simply a new found comfort in each other’s presence. I assumed it was some combination of the three, but found I didn’t overly mind. My chest was still aching, and my head seemed likely to follow suit soon. I wasn’t sure I could take any more… sharing. But I wasn’t sure I wanted to be parted from him yet either… 

He stopped outside my door, standing to the side. I shifted nervously in place, playing with the handle to the lantern.

“I’ll have some food sent up,” He assured me, and at his promise I realized I hadn’t eaten all day. Then he moved as if to leave. I saw him open his mouth to impart a final passing farewell.

“Would you...” I stopped short, stiffening as the goblin turned back to face me. He raised one slender eyebrow at me, and I swallowed hard. “....Ah…” I wondered if there really were beads of sweat forming on my brow, or if it just felt like it. “W-would you like to… to come in?”

The answering grin that filled his face had my own flushing hot. He chuckled, reaching up and rubbing the back of his neck. I was instantly grateful for the break in eye contact as he dropped his attention to the side. He cleared his throat.

“I… I would, of course… but,” He glanced at me out of the corner of his eyes, “I think I should practice that ‘patience’ thing and… and let you recharge. I’m sure you’ve had enough of my ill advised confessions and blundering emotions for one day.” He grinned again, and my heart skipped. “We should leave things on a good note for once…”

I nodded my agreement, instantly feeling foolish and flustered. I reached out and took hold of the handle. Shifting the lantern to one hand.

“...Although...” He added, almost too quickly. As though unable to resist. I froze, looking back at him as he stepped closer shyly. “Perhaps we could… we could, um... end it on an even better note…”

I wasn’t as surprised as the last time as he reached up to catch the back of my neck. I was already bent at the waist to grab the low handle of my door, so he didn’t have to stretch quite so far up to meet my lips with his. The kiss was quick, but warm, and I missed the shape of his mouth as soon as he pulled back. It left my heart racing in my ears. I felt a sudden, pulsing desire, and my palms tingled.

Grier cleared his throat again, rocking back onto the balls of his feet. “Good evening then, Nikost-”

My returning kiss was much deeper, and I found I enjoyed his surprised sputter against my lips as I cut off his departing words. I had caught his shoulder to spin him back to me, and it set him off balance. He stumbled back as I stepped forward, and I pursued him one long step until his shoulders bumped against the door-frame and I could properly curl my body around him. His hands had instinctively raised, and now rested on my chest with a feather light touch. I didn’t let up my kiss throughout the transition, and now, with proper leverage, deepened it as I wrapped my arm slowly around his waist. Pinning him between me and the wall. Savoring the taste of his mouth and the feeling of his lips against mine. My other hand held the lantern awkwardly off to the side, but I was so much bigger than him that I found it didn’t impede me in the least. Half a moment in, and I felt him melt against me, his mouth eagerly responding to the demands of mine.

I kissed him until the need of my lungs finally required me to break away. I drew in a deep breath, our foreheads still brushing together, and I felt his own breath flutter against my cheeks. Slowly, I straightened to my full height, though I lingered with my body brushing against his for perhaps a moment longer than necessary. His red eyes were like dinner plates, and I swore he was a few shades lighter than before.

I couldn’t help but give a small smile at the bewildered look on his face. And saw his eyes widen more at the sight. I winced, the smile fading slightly as I realized it was there. I rubbed the back of my neck, looking away bashfully. I would have laughed instead, yet settled for leaning back over him. He instantly tilted his head, following me. Perhaps expecting another kiss. The thunk of the handle dropping behind him beneath my grip made him jump.

“Good evening… Your Majesty.”

I stepped gracefully around him through the open door, leaving him spinning in my wake. Amused with myself despite the race of my pulse beneath my skin and the spinning lightness of my head. I would cherish that expression of his for the rest of the night. Perhaps the rest of my life, gods willing.

“Oh-ho… It’s ‘Your Majesty’ again, is it?” I heard him breathe, though light with amusement rather than his usual displeasure at the title. 

Then suddenly his foot was in the door, propping it open. I looked at him, barely hiding my surprise in my usual mask of stoicism. 

“Well, then, Your Highness. Since you wish to be so prim and proper:” A mischievous smirk rolled across his thin lips, and its maliciousness sent a shiver down my spine, “I hope you sleep well, you’ll need it. Because just for that stunt, tomorrow I’m bringing you to meet the Dowager Queen.”

My eyes must have widened slightly, because he took a step back. Still grinning with sharp teeth from ear to ear. With a short, tight and teasing bow, he spun on heel and marched proudly back down the hall. I thought I heard a laugh echo, but it may have just been the terror suddenly drenching me from head to toe.

… Damn it.

...

UPADATE: Part six HERE

[irishmacguirefucker]

Meeting Tilly Jackson

A.N: (So originally this was going to be for my au but I realized that if I wanna write Tilly in my AU i need to properly understand her background. We don't have a lot of specific details in the game, so i wrote this. Essentially its how Dutch found Tilly and took her in. She’s 14 in this. I will probably have a part 2 soon. Its a little dialogue heavy)

(TW: Sexual Assault of a minor is mentioned but nothing happens, blood)

Wordcount:  3110

-

Tilly Jackson has a family. They may be a little odd, different than what everyone else might consider a family, but a family nonetheless. Dutch and Hosea her father figures, Susan Grimshaw a motherly presence. Sisters in Karen, Mary-Beth and the other women of the camp, brothers in Arthur and John and most of the other men. The titles don't matter so much as the feeling of safety and comfort and appreciation among them. She missed her late mother of course, but she hoped on some level her mother would be happy with how things turned out for the girl in the end. Being kidnapped at the age of 12 was nothing short of traumatizing, and for a long while, things only got worse. The Foreman gang was the opposite of a family. They were nothing to her but the people who stole her away from her mother claimed to own her. The ones who tried to take advantage of her. The night that Malcolm Foreman tried to make advances on her and she killed him was the night she would consider herself grown. 

She's not sure exactly how long she was alone, it must have been under a year. She went to find her mother only to hear of her death, and with nowhere else to go she just kept running. The further she made it the less likely that Anthony Foreman would find her and pay her back for what she did to his cousin. She knows that it was early spring when she left. The snow had barely been off the ground, she supposed that no longer being wrapped in a ratty cloak and scarf was the reason that gang member thought to make his move. 

Dutch found her just when it was beginning to get cold again. 

Despite considering herself grown, her body disagreed. The shoes she ran away in were already ill-fitted, and by that autumn they were practically falling apart. Her toes stuck out the front. She had done her best to steal clothing off people’s clotheslines, but they rarely fit.

Dutch caught her doing just that. He had been watching the property of some well off folks, planning on casing it with Arthur later that week. He watched as a girl no older than 14, snuck out from the tree line in a torn-up blouse and a too-long skirt.

She was clearly not experienced in stealing as she tripped over her skirts up the property, but she made it to the side of the house mostly successfully. She quickly tore down a long dress and an undershirt and quickly started back to the tree line. She stared wistfully at the property's large orchard and nearly turned her course towards it before hearing the owner of the house open his front door and stealing away into the forest. Even from a distance, Dutch knew what that hesitation meant. She was hungry.

Dutch was hardly one to let a promising little thief like her starve in the forest, so with a passing glance at the house he stood from his hiding spot up the hill and mounted the Count.

Tracking was never one of Dutch’s strongest abilities but she made it rather easy, with footprints in the mud, a scrap of fabric where her clothing caught a branch, etc. Eventually, he reached a spot where she seemed to trip and fall, and then there were a few drops of blood here and there as he followed. He knew he was getting closer, the blood wasn’t dry. He dismounted his horse and began leading him forward when suddenly she jumped out from behind a tree wielding a large rusted hunting knife. 

“Don’t come any closer! You can take your clothes back, here.” She kicked over the items he had just watched her steal. “Don’t tell the law, and I’ll disappear. I don’t have anything more to offer you.”

Dutch grinned, she was strong-willed. But he also observed that her cheeks were sunken in, and her skin was dull. She was visibly malnourished, and there was blood dripping from one of her small hands. He hoped it was a branch she cut herself on and not that dirty knife of hers.

He put his hands up in a friendly gesture.

“I’m not the man you robbed earlier, don’t you worry. I watched you steal that dress, you’re quite the little thief.” 

She was doing a damn good job of hiding her fear, but Dutch was experienced in seeing past such facades. She didn’t seem scared of the weapon she was holding, as the young and inexperienced often were when they wielded such an item. She just seemed scared of him. 

“Why did you follow me, it ain’t your things I stole. I have nothing to give you, so you best just leave me be.” She didn’t stutter, her high pitched voice remained unwavering and strong. Dutch tried his best to look unthreatening, something he didn’t find himself having to do often. 

“Well, I myself was planning on robbing that house myself later with a few of my friends, perhaps I just wanted to see if you had any advice for me as a seasoned visitor of that property.”

She didn’t believe him and didn’t lower her knife, but she didn’t run either. Good. “Now if I reach for something in my saddle bag here are you gonna come at me with that big old knife?”

She narrowed her eyes. “Why?”

Dutch smiled. “Well if you and I are gonna talk business I thought that maybe I could pay you for your time, little lady.”

She finally lowered the knife a little, seeming less afraid but very suspicious. “You wanna pay me for information on that house?”

“I do. Information is worth a lot to us outlaws, you should know that well Darlin’” He slowly turned to the horse. Even if she did attempt to stab him, she wouldn’t get to him before he could turn around, so he wasn’t worried. As he was digging through the saddlebag she spoke up behind him.

“Don’t call me Darlin.” 

He smiled at her bravado but kept looking through the bag. “Well, you’ve yet to give me something else to call you Miss. Ah! Here it is!” He turned back to her holding a small stack of cash and a wrapped parcel. 

“Yeah, well neither have you!” There’s that reminder that he’s talking to a child. They’re always so petulant. John had been just the same, though a little more rabid. “Well, I’m Dutch, Dutch Van der Linde.”

He studied her face for any sign of recognition, but there was none. Good, less reason for her to be afraid of him. She didn’t give her name just yet. 

“Are you with the Foreman brothers?” She asked boldly. “I won’t let you take me back, I’ll kill you before you get me back there.” That would explain her fear, she wasn’t just a thief. She was a runaway from another gang.

“Now I’ll tell you right now Miss, I’m not with Anthony Forman or his little gang. The only gang I’m with is the Van der Linde gang, and I promise me and mine won’t bring you any harm.”

“You...You lead a gang?” She was shaking, it was starting to get colder as the sun was setting. 

“I am, but we aren’t like those bastards you knew. We’re just good people, looking to live free.”

Then he did something bold, a gesture to help her feel safer in the presence of a gang leader. Hopefully, she would be a little more at ease. “Do you mind if I sit down Miss-” 

“Jackson. Tilly Jackson.”

He smiled. “Miss Jackson. Do you mind if I sit while we talk? Tracking you was quite a little adventure.” 

“Go ahead, I guess.” 

“Thank you, Tilly.” He sat down on a log just to the side, and she lowered her weapon fully but gripped it tight. “Now, go ahead and take this.” He took a couple of bills and tucked them into the string around the parcel. She stared at it suspiciously.

 “I didn’t tell you nothing yet and I ain’t stupid mister Van der Linde, why are you giving me this.” 

He smiled and leaned forward to place the parcel on the ground in front of him, between them. 

“As I said, you’re quite the thief and I think you could help me out. Doesn't hurt to butter up the informant. There's some food in the package, I thought you looked a little hungry.”

She seemed to stare at the parcel longingly and something clenched in Dutch’s cold heart. The poor girl must be starving.

 “I…I don’t have no info for you, Mister Van der Linde. I just needed the clothes.” She seemed disappointed to be saying it, but she didn't lie to him like he thought she might.

“Well...maybe you could just keep me company then Milady. Good company is hard to find among us outlaws, as I’m sure you know.”

In a flash, she was back two steps and her knife was raised once more.

“I ain’t that kind of girl. you can keep your fucking money and go pay a real whore for your damned “company’”

This was the opposite of the outcome he was looking for, and entirely at the fault of his own poor word choice. He should have known better, there are only a few things that can happen to a young girl in this country to put her on the run and make her fear good company. 

“Now listen here, Miss Jackson. I am not that kind of man, I wouldn’t take advantage of you like I’m sure the bastards in Foreman’s gang tried. It’s like I said it, my gang is just good men looking for freedom and money. You can leave right now if you want and I won’t stop you, or you can stay and eat some, and I promise I won’t even look at you funny.”

She stood frozen, knife gripped tight. She seemed to be weighing her options. Dutch had yet to pose a threat to her, his weapons remained holstered. He hadn’t even tried to come close to her. She steeled her nerves and spoke again. 

“Then...Give me one of your guns. If you really ain’t gonna try nothing then give me one of your pistols and if you try and do anything bad I’ll shoot you.”

In any other circumstance, he wouldn’t have even considered it. But this wasn’t some criminal who he was wringing for information. This was a terrified little girl who was too afraid of the man in front of her to even eat food when she was starving. He slowly reached for his left holster and pulled out the pistol. He made a big show of flipping it in his hand so that his finger stayed away from the trigger as not to scare her, and he placed it beside the parcel. Gently he pushed them both over with his foot and sat back on the log with his hands beside him. 

She stared at him, and quick as lightning she grabbed the items from the ground. She backed up to her spot and slowly sat on the ground. The pistol was too big for her hand, and her other hand was getting blood on the side of the wrapped meat. Slowly she unwrapped the piece of dried venison, not breaking eye contact with the man sitting before her. “Why are you being so kind to me, I ain’t never heard of a ‘Good’ outlaw, we’re all just killers and thieves.”

He took note of the word ‘we’ before killers and thieves. Perhaps there was a reason she was so steady holding that knife. “I suppose no truer words have been spoken Miss Tilly, but I was never the type to watch a young lady suffer…You know, I found my son Arthur when he was about your age. The boy was just starving in the streets, stealing what he could. Quite like you are now.”

She didn’t respond, just stared at him a moment longer before taking a large bite of the meat. He hadn’t seen someone eat so ravenously since he fed John for the first time.

It took a lot of talking to get her to let her guard down. She didn’t reveal much about herself, other than that her mother died and she wasn’t part of the foreman gang, she was just there. Though the tension in her shoulders slowly sapped away as she filled her stomach and let herself calm down. They spoke for a few hours and he tried his best not to treat her like a child, god knows they hate when you do that. He couldn’t help but notice that she just seemed so sad. Once all that fear subsided and she spoke more freely, it was clear that she was lost. She mentioned her mother’s death with deep sorrow, her eyes going glassy before she seemed to catch herself and move on. 

Eventually, her hand stopped bleeding, and he tried to catch a look at it as she gestured. The sun was nearly set and he would have to get back to camp before they went looking for him.

He told her as much and he watched that deep-set sadness seep back to her features. 

“Oh… well. It was nice to meet you Dutch.” She used his first name for the first time. He stood up and she did as well, wincing as she used her injured hand to push off the ground.

“You know... you could come back with me and let our doctor take a look at that hand. Well...she ain’t exactly a doctor, but she can fix it. We wouldn’t want that getting infected, it’s far easier to be an outlaw with both hands.”

She wanted to go with him, he could see it in her eyes. Good friends are hard to come by when you’re a child with no home. 

“And perhaps, you could stay awhile. Learn how to be a real outlaw instead of a dress thief.” She seemed offended at the comment, a funny little scowl crossing her features. She was thinking about the offer, and he hoped it sounded at least a little better than sleeping alone in the forest. 

“If I come to your camp….nobody's gonna try and touch me?”

 “Absolutely not my dear, if they try I’ll cut off their hand myself.” She seemed to giggle a little at the notion, a sound he would take pride in. She sobered up and asked; 

“And I can leave whenever I want? I ain’t gonna let anyone try and say they own me ever again.”

“If you come to camp, Tilly Jackson will remain a free woman, but you’ll have a home to come back to if that’s what you would like.”

He watched her hesitate a little longer. Some coyotes barked in the distance and she shivered.  “Maybe just for a little while. Just to try it.” 

“And you can leave whenever you want.” he reassured.

“And I can leave whenever I want.” She repeated it back like she was convincing herself. He turned his back to adjust the Count’s saddle and give him a sugar cube, and he heard small footsteps come closer to him.

“Um. Can I give him one? He’s real pretty.” Dutch turned and she was at his side, staring at the large animal. She was even smaller up close, and he could see that her bones stood up against her dark skin.

“You know, I think he would like that. Now here, take just one of these and put it in your hand flat. Don’t worry, he won’t bite you.” She went to take it from his hand before realizing her hands were full with the knife and Dutch’s gun. 

“Oh. Here you go, Mister Dutch.” She tried to hand him back the gun. Bravely he thought, to give up her best defense, but he didn’t take it.

“I’ll tell you what my lady, It’s gonna be a bit of a ride to get back to camp and I don’t want you feeling like you can’t hold your own. You hold on to that one just until we get back, alright? We can put your knife in the bag safe and sound.” She obliged, putting the hunting knife gently in the saddlebag and holding on to the pistol. Then Dutch gave her the sugar cube and she held it out to the horse gingerly. The Count had no such hesitation and stole the treat from her hand quickly, the softness of his nose near her fingers making her giggle.

“Now, I think we might just be ready to move! Can I help you up milady?” He said, with a ring clad hand extended like a butler. The gesture made her giggle more and Dutch was happy to see the sadness put aside for a little while. She took his hand in her much smaller one and let him lead her to the side of the saddle.

“Now, can I lift you or do you want to go stand on the log over there?” She could read the underlying notion. The hidden meaning of ‘Do you want me to touch you’, ‘is it okay if I lift you’, etc. He was being more considerate than anyone she had ever met. She took a deep breath and put a little trust in him.

“You can lift me if that’s okay.”

“It would be my honor milady.” He lifted her onto the horse’s rump and tried not to think about how light she was. How he could feel her bones through the layers of her shirt. Once she was settled, he climbed up himself. Before they got going he pulled out his canteen and an apple from the bag. 

“Here. Dinner will be done by the time we get to camp and there’s no reason you should go hungry back there, that just wouldn’t befit such a distinguished young lady.” She accepted the food, and he set the Count into a walk to get them out of the underbrush. Once they were on the path he pushed into a more brisk pace, but he wouldn’t risk trotting with her back there, the count’s trot could be rather rough and she’s so thin she would just be thrown off.

It would be a long ride back to camp at this pace, but it just gave him more time to get to know her and tell her about camp. 

[abluescarfonwaston]

Shapeshifter Au -8

On Ao3 Now! 

He found Roach. Buried his face in her neck and wrapped his arms around her. She nickered her concern.

He could be something small and unobtrusive. A mouse at the bottom of his saddle bag. A lark nesting on top. A cat keeping the mice away from Roach in the stable.

He could be small and unobtrusive and quiet and a good traveling companion. He could be whatever form Geralt wanted. Would stay that way forever if that’s what Geralt wanted.

But it wasn’t his form that were the problem was it?

Geralt had made it perfectly clear what he wanted.

No matter the form he would still always be Jaskier.

“I love you Roach. Don’t let him be too stupid without me okay?”

Running into Geralt at the bar wouldn’t be an issue. Humans had to follow switchbacks and winding roads. All he had to do was switch back after soaring down the mountain.

Not that he’d felt much like soaring but the falling sensation had been near enough to manage.

One drink and then he’d play and in the morning he’d go. Long before Geralt arrived.

“Here alone familiar? Hasn’t Geralt told you that’s dangerous?” Yennefer sweeping into the seat across from him. “Some evil mage might just snatch you up.”

He’d heard her coming, the singing- ever present around her- growing louder and louder as she approached. Wouldn’t you like to snatch me up Yennefer?

“Is that an offer Yennefer?” That voice sounded a lot more compelling now. Or maybe he just didn’t have any real reason to resist it. ”Because I don’t have any plans for the evening.”

He flashed her a smile and hers disappeared.

“You’re not bound anymore.”

Oh wasn’t that rich. Bound. He rolled his eyes at her. “I’m not the one he wished for Yennefer. I doubt the djinn will heed your breakup.”

Her frown deepened into a scowl before smoothing back into a placid mask. “Then the next round is on you Jaskier.”

Rude. I’ll go as many rounds as you want. He wasn’t even getting another round. He downed another swig. “What do you want Yennefer?”

“I wanted someone to shit talk Geralt with and you were over here looking terribly despondent all alone so I figured he’d ditched you.”

“Can’t argue with that.” He agreed waving down a barmaid for another round. It was a bad idea. Yennefer required a clear head to deal with and a hangover would make leaving tomorrow harder. But she told you to get the next round. So he did. “But I don’t think you’ll find what you’re really hoping for Yennefer.”

She pinned him with her gaze. She wasn’t using magic but he could feel it- feel her- lighting up the veins and electrifying him with her luminescence. She was going for a bored look but he felt the anger rolling like waves.

“And what am I hoping for mutt?”

Mutt. Half-bred. Those were better than what she'd called him at the start. Pet. Thing. Creature. But she hadn't called him those in the last few years. 

Mutt and half-breed were reserved for when she thought him unaware of her power. A broken 'familiar' that couldn't tell how powerful she was.

He suspected he was one of the few who knew exactly how powerful she was. More accurately than even Geralt. It thrummed in his veins and the song beat at his head every time she was near.

Power. It praised. Strong. It rejoiced.

Be hers. It plead, begged and demanded.

He shrugged. “A quick romp? A way to hurt Geralt? A friend?”

Her face settled deeper into boredom and the lightning began to scald his skin.

“Oh and I won’t find any of those here?” She reached her hand out and he moved his face into its grasp. “Never put you down as picky when it comes to bed-mates.”

There was a comment there. About how he was- was something? Those eyes were so purple. His jaw remained lax in her grip.

“I have friends and I certainly don’t need to stoop to your level for one.”

The lightning was so pleasant in his body. Thrumming like a drum. Her nails dug into his cheeks and he welcomed the pricks of pain.

“And I am more than capable of hurting Geralt on my own. Half breed.”

That name was important.

It was.

Right.

“Do you really want another man bound to you by magic?”

Her hand twitched against his cheek and withdrew. A whine escaped him at the loss of contact. He dug his fingers into his legs to stop them from chasing after her.

“What?” She studied his face as if struck. “You can’t sense magic.” She stated. Growing less sure by the consonant.

He leaned away. The song screamed louder at him for it. He grit his teeth and didn’t move.

“And what makes you so sure about that?”                

“You wouldn’t-“ She frowned. “Familiars are drawn to magic.” She explained. He had actually gathered that thanks. “The difference in power alone between Geralt and I should have.” Made me yours. It finished for her when she trailed off.

“Yeah well we were bonded.” He wanted to emphasize that “bonded” idea with the quotation marks it deserved –what did that even mean- but he didn’t trust his hands to behave so he settled for spitting the word out. “So.”

She shook her head. “That shouldn’t have mattered.” He remembered a tapestry burning under his skin when she’d used magic on him.

“Then maybe I’m not what you think I am.”

He felt her taking in the taunt lines of his shoulders. The strain pulling him to her as he struggled to resist. Her face fell- only slightly but- Sad. You’ve made her sad.

“You’re Jaskier.” She said like that explained anything at all.

She drained her drink and stood. Turning.

“Yennifer?” She paused to grab her drink from the approaching barmaid. He leaned over his unfinished drink staring into it like it might have answers. “I would have liked to be friends.”

If the world had been different they could have toasted drinks and roasted Geralt into the long hours of the night. Maybe drunkenly tumbled into bed together or just fallen asleep next to each other. Maybe he’d hate her just the same for hurting Geralt, maybe more because he would know what being human really was. Or maybe he would have fallen for her beauty and written her countless odes and sonnets.

But none of that mattered. Because she had no choice in loving Geralt. Like how he had no choice in loving her. Whatever they felt couldn’t be trusted.

He hated her for hurting Geralt. Respected her for walking away. Loved her for her magic.

Who knew what was real under that?

Does it matter?

It did to her. She wanted something real.

That thought was the only thing that kept him from running after her.

If only he were human.

But then again he’d still be Jaskier.

[perseusjackson-jasongrace]

Empires on the Horizon XI

Jason is a CEO: Part XI

Here’s my masterlist for the next part and my other stuff

This chapter is hella long. Please enjoy!

everything flashes

so fast passed your eyes

you cannot quite make out

the difference

between

cameras, lightning, and

life.

-badpoetry

“Drew my darling,” Jason smiled through the phone, “I am beyond elated you’re getting married but how am I supposed to find a suit for your wedding if my favourite suit shop is closed?”

Her sweet laugh floated through his speaker, “Maybe we have a surprise for you Mr. Grace.”

“You didn’t?” He gasped, “Tell me you didn’t!”

A lyrical voice further away from the phone yelled, “Oh yes we did Jason Grace and you’re gonna accept it! You do so much for us it’s only right we get to pay you back.”

He knew when not to argue so he muttered a disbelieving thank you and hung up with the reassurance that the suit would arrive within the next day or two. He flopped down on the couch in his office and pulled his laptop towards him. An unfinished email flashed on his screen, but his mind was occupied with other things. Things that involved very unrelated work thoughts. Zoe had been at his place for a week and although they both usually craved their own spaces living with her had been bliss, and exciting, and delightful.

His phone vibrated from wherever he chucked it.

Zoe: Watcha doing?

Jason: I should be working.

Zoe: What do you mean should be?

Jason: Have certain morning activities reeling through my mind

*Zoe is calling*

He barked out a laugh, answering the call and stopped laughing at the words she whispered.

“HAZE!” He yelled, rushing out of the office, “I’m going home. I’ll see you at the wedding.”

“Okay Boss. Say hello to Zo for me.”

He was already in the elevator and wondering how seconds could feel like forever. He caught his reflection in the silvery walls and wanted to laugh. Cheeks pink with excitement and eyes glittering with mischief. He felt like a kid again, like living.

When he finally arrived at home Zoe was lying on the bed. He was about to jump on top of her and smother her in kisses, but he noticed her soft breathing and unusually still body. Tiptoeing around the room he smiled when he saw her face. Fast asleep. He pieced together that she must have taken her meds, since it was just after lunch. Brushing a kiss over her forehead he disappeared into the bathroom to change into sweats and then gently lowered himself next to her. If he was going to be here, he might as well do some work.

A surprisingly productive hour later he finally decided to screw the work thing and just have a nap alongside his girlfriend. Chucking his laptop aside he scooted down in the bed and wrapped an arm around her. She groaned softly, grabbing his fingers and then settled back down. He couldn’t help the giggle that escaped him, but his amusement was short lived.

“No dad,” Zoe mumbled, “Don’t make me ma– don’t make me do it. Please.”

“Zo?” He peered over her shoulder to see her eyes still shut.

“Dad, stop I don’t want to do this!” She was yelling now, scratching at his arm.

“ZO!” He tried.

“Please dad just let me– PLEASE!” Her cheeks were damp and the anguish in her voice made his heart race.

“Zoe, baby please!” He shook her shoulders. “Stella, ZOE!”

She got up with a gasp. Jason stumbled out of bed and raced to get water.

“Here,” He offered her the shaking cup.

“Th– thank you.”

“Were you having a nightmare?”

“Yea,” She winced, “They– they don’t happen very often but sometimes when I’m extremely emotional they bombard me.”

“Are you okay? Do you need something?”

“I’m good, I think.” She took a deep breath, “Just hold me for a little while?”

He simply held out his arms for her to crawl into them. When they settled into the bed again, his back against the headboard and her between his legs, he kissed her gently.

“Do you want to talk about it?”

“Not particularly, do you?”

“I just have one question and you don’t have to answer it if you don’t want to.”

A small nod was the only answer.

“What does your dad want you to do?”

Her sharp inhale made his chest tighten but he looked into her brown eyes.

“It’s a deal we made. Neither of us were willing to compromise on our plans so he struck a deal with me.”

“Okay.” He mumbled and then grazed his lips over her shoulder and let his head rest in the crook of her head.

“That’s it? No more questions?”

“I said I’d only ask one.”

“But you don’t want to know what the deal was?” He could hear the surprise in her voice.

“I want to know what you’re willing to tell me. We’ve only been dating for half a year. We have countless hours to learn each other’s secrets.”

“You are amazing in so many beautiful ways.” She sighed, pulling him towards her.

He laughed into their kiss and let the smile play at his lips for… everything after that. When they went to sleep that night, her lean frame tucked into him he thanked the stars blinking through the chiffon curtains. Thanked them for bringing her to him, for letting her light be the one that guides him, letting her spark be the one that ignites him, thanked them for letting her come down from her home in the cosmos to help him rise. And he’s almost certain the stars blink back in acknowledgment, just before sleep drags him under.

***

“You ready baby?” He called from his closet as he straightens his tie.

She echoed from the bathroom, “Yea I think so, let me just put on my earrings.”

“If we leave now, we should get there by quarter to,” He mumbled to himself.

“We’re not going to be late, worrier.” A voice teased him.

He turned around and stumbled back, falling on his ottoman with a thump.

“Wow.” He mumbled, “You look…” There were no words in any language to describe how she looked. He tried anyway, “You look godly.”

Her dress was silk the colour of burnt orange and the way it looked on her reminded him of sunsets. He was sure the greatest artists in history could never imagine something so beautiful. He was positive the word ethereal was invented in her honour.

“Amor meus amplior quam verba est.” He whispered; eyes still wide with adoration. He didn’t want to blink and risk losing her to the skies.

“What does that mean?” Her voice was equally soft.

“My love is more than words.”

She jumped into his arms and held him close enough that their hearts became one beat.

“Thank you.” She said into his collar, “And you look gorgeous.”

He pulled her back to stare at her, unable to look at anything else. “If we ever get married, please will you wear this colour to our reception.”

She smiled, and it was dazzling, “Let’s go my Thyella.”

So they did, and if you asked anyone who saw them, they would have told you that couple looked like royalty. Like the Queen and her King. Him, in a suit of the deepest blue, with the same burnt orange silk lining the lapels and cuffs of his jacket. And her, in her dress made of sunstones, eyes that rivalled the galaxy. The sky and its stars.

They arrived at the wedding venue sometime later, the garden already buzzing with activity.

“Hello Miss Arellano,” He hugged his lawyer.

“Jason! How are you?”

“Better than brownies.”

“That’s almost an impossibility.” Percy Jackson saddled up to the group with his usual mischief-maker’s smile.

“Zoe, darling.” The women embraced. “How are you feeling?”

“Less like I got stabbed which is nice.”

Percy snorted, “Glad to hear it Miss Nightshade. You really gave us a scare there.”

“Tell me about it.” Jason put a hand over his heart.

She shoved at his shoulder, “Where is the rest of this trouble-finder crew?”

“I see Haze and Frank now,” Reyna waved to a couple in the distance.

“And Leo and Annabeth should be here soon. Valdez had an emergency at the varsity. I do not know what constitutes as an emergency and I do not plan on asking.” He added.

Hazel’s golden smile graced them, “Hello you lot, you all look like you just stepped out of the pages of a magazine.”

“We are the hottest group, aren’t we?” His lawyer smirked.

“You can say that again!” Annabeth Chase laughed.

They all made small talk for a few minutes, making sure Zoe was okay and catching up on everything they had missed in the month since the club. A bell tinkled further down the garden and the guests started making their way to their seats.

“Guess it’s time to see the happy trio.” He smiled.

“How long have you known them?” Zoe asked as they sat down.

“Charlie I’ve known since college and ‘Lena and Drew since he’s introduced them. Which was about six years ago now?”

“Wow, long-time friends.”

“Spend enough 3am study sessions with people and you learn to bond for life.” He grinned.

The music started playing as their conversation gave way to anticipation and everyone turned to the aisle.

We can leave the Christmas lights up till January

This is our place we make the rules

And there’s a dazzling haze

A mysterious way about you dear

Have I known you twenty seconds or twenty years

The gentle notes wafted through the rose scented air and clung to their skin, letting it be the glow that caught the light. The groom walked out. He looked beautiful. Dark skin golden under the sun and a smile to rival the full moon. He waved at everyone, as Charlie would do. Always a friend. When he got to the front, they all spotted the look of exhilaration in his brown eyes.

“They’re coming,” Zoe whispered.

And then two ladies walked slowly down the grassy path. Silena in a pale pink satin dress and a flower crown resting on her head and Drew in a matching lavender number, a small tiara perched on her black hair.

“Unbelievable.”

All Jason could do was nod as he watched his friends walk towards each other. Watched them burst with happiness right before his eyes. His mind flashed back to the early days when he and Charles used to sit in the library crying over stress and loneliness. Finding solace only in their own comforting words. And he couldn’t help but shed a few tears as the trio reached each other and began forever.

The ceremony was over before he could blink and there was a flurry of activity as everyone took pictures with the brides and groom. He managed to talk to them briefly, spreading congratulations and general joy.

“Jase,” Silena pulled him aside, “The suit looks wonderful.”

“Thank you, my friend,” He hugged her, long and hard. “And you, all of you, look stunning.”

“It’s been a long time coming,” Her smile was gentle, but the tears in her eyes held every emotion she couldn’t display.

“Is everything set up at the field?”

“Everything is perfect,” Charles winked, catching up to them.

“What did you plan, Dannasan?” Drew raised a perfect brow.

“Nothing that needs your worrying, o angelhos mou.”

Jason laughed as the newlyweds narrowed their eyes at each other. “I’ll see you guys at the reception.”

They thanked him once more and said their last goodbyes before shuffling off to the next round of pictures. He found the rest of his people standing near the car park, waiting for him.

Zoe’s face lit up as she spotted him, “You ready?”

“Yea,” He hugged her to him, “Want to head home first or?”

“Percy and Reyna were going to Reedpipes to chill till six, you want to go with them?”

“Everyone else?”

“We’re going back to the varsity because Leo still needs to sort out the lab.” Annabeth looked at him with an ‘I’ll explain later look’.

“And you Frank, Hazel?”

“We aren’t coming to the reception. I have to visit gran before Hazel and I head out tomorrow for our weekend trip.”

“Well alright then, guess we’re going to Reedpipes.”

The group dispersed with hugs and kisses and promises to meet up again soon. Zoe hugged them tightly, and his throat tightened at the comfortableness she had found in them.

Jason put a hand behind the front seat, checking behind him before reversing onto the road and making his way to their favourite café.

“That was such a beautiful wedding.” His girlfriend sighed.

“There’s just something about weddings isn’t there?” He hummed, “Makes you want to get down on one knee and propose?”

She laughed, winking at him, “Don’t get any ideas, you don’t know all my secrets remember.”

“Can’t imagine any of them stopping me.” He kissed her knuckles, adoration flowing like never-ending fountains.

Something passed over her face, pain or contemplation he didn’t know. And he was about to ask when she squeezed his thigh and smirked at him. All thoughts were forgotten.

They arrived at Reedpipes before Reyna and Percy and decided to head inside to grab a table. Zoe asked if they’d get weird looks for looking so dressed up in a coffee shop but laughed and said, “Welcome to the city!”

As always, his conversations with Grover Underwood left him reeling.

“Well don’t you look like royalty Grace.” The barista’s brown eyes sparkled, “And this must be the woman who keeps the sun in your soul.”

Zoe blushed and muttered a hello.

“Grover,” Amusement played across his features, “How are you?”

“Lovely thank you. What can I get you today?”

“Surprise me.” He shrugged.

Grover looked at him, eyes widening ever so slightly. “You’re letting me choose?”

“Sure, why not?”

“Mr Grace,” The man looked about ready to bowl over. “I feel you should introduce me to your lady friend immediately because in the eight years you’ve come here you have never ordered anything but a chai, americano, or a cappuccino, and now you want me to choose?”

He giggled at the surprise coating the air, “Grover this is Zoe Nightshade. She’s my girlfriend.”

“Ma’am,” Grover reaches over to shake her hand earnestly, “I have never seen him be anything but a creature of habit in all the years I’ve known him. Please marry him.”

Jason cut in, “Oh I plan to.”

His girlfriend laughed, short and mischievous, “Nice to meet you Grover.”

“What can I get for you?”

“I’ll have a black coffee and a toasted cheese sandwich please.”

They eventually found their way to a table, and just in time because almost as soon as they sat down Percy and Reyna walked in.

“Hello again, how absolutely gorgeous was that wedding?” Reyna sighed contentedly.

“So beautiful!”

“Gods Perc,” She turned to her boyfriend, “If we ever get married, I want that purple colour Drew was wearing to be the theme.”

“Can we do a blue as well?” Percy smiled at her softly.

“What kind of blue?”

“A blue like…” He looked around, eyebrows furrowing as he scanned the room. “Blue like…” He caught Jason’s eyes and trailed off. They stared at each other and something in his chest sparked. Percy blinked and the world came back into focus.

“Blue like the sky.”

“Yes!” She squealed, “Your colours Zo?”

“Jason wants me to wear this colour to the reception.” She motioned to her dress.

“Oh gods yes,” Reyna gave an approving nod, “That with white or cream would be so beautiful.”

Their coffees got set down and they spent the remainder of the time chatting casually, fully, happily. Jason felt like a summer breeze, like the soft winds dancing with the willow tree, like wonder. His life was so beautifully different from the one he had last year this time and he marvelled over the workings of the universe. How did he get so lucky?

The hours passed by in a gentle rush and soon they were all piling back into cars and heading to the field where the reception would be held. The field was one of great importance to him. When he discovered it some years ago, after a particularly bad fight with Luke, he had instantly fallen in love with it. There was something so grounding about the open air and the soft grass and the flowers that grew wild. He had stayed there for hours whenever he needed to be alone, when he needed to look up at the sky and remember no matter how much his life changes, he will always be able to look up a the same sun, moon and stars. He will be able to watch the trees grow and the flowers bloom and remember life is only as complicated as you make it. The day he found a “Development Site” board cutting off the entrance to the park he had panicked so hard he needed his inhaler for the first time in ten years. And then he had promptly called up the company demolishing the area and bought it from them at a disgustingly high price. Some things though were worth it. And what was the point of making money if he couldn’t use it to protect that which cannot protect itself. He named it the Fields of Prosperina and opened it to the public under the condition they would do no harm and leave nothing but footprints behind. He also had a team of people who helped maintain the small facilities and make sure nothing was getting destroyed. Under city regulations, officials had to come in twice a year, once in summer and once in winter, to make sure none of the native species were becoming endangered within the area.

They drove into the gravelled parking and he couldn’t help the gasp that escaped him. The space was like something from a fairy tale. Lanterns hung from trees casting a warm yellow glow over the world. Flowers weaved around every chair and over the fairy lights hanging above them. Zoe’s awe was audible as she trailed her hands over the tinkling charms at the entrance and the bright petals laid out on the table. He spotted the huge wooden structure with a screen and a projector attached to it. Gods Charlie, he thought, you really outdid yourself this time. It’s a dream.

The newlyweds came out to applauds and hollering and the party began. Speeches were sweet and tearful and full of jokes; and the dinner was sublime. He moaned with every bite of the chocolate brownie and didn’t feel weird because every single person at their table did the same thing. Finally it was time for the first dance and three glowing people walked into the cleared space, illuminated with the glimmer of moonlight and the soft flickering of the lanterns.

Ballerina girl You are so lovely With you standing there I'm so aware Of how much I care for you

The song washed over the crowd as the three came together, arms wrapped around waists, and started swaying softly. As one they moved across the floor, as one they laughed and cried, and put their heads together. As one they danced.

“Why this song?” Zoe’s voice was nothing but air against his skin.

“Drew and Silena were dancers in varsity. That’s how Charlie met them. He saw a show of theirs and fell in love.”

“Do they still dance?”

“Not that I know of, but I think they want to open a ballet school at some point.”

“They’re angelic.”

Ballerina girl You are so lovely I can see in you My dreams come true Don't you ever go away Ballerina Girl...

The song faded away and Drew grabbed the mic with a brilliant smile on her face, “LETS PARTY!”

The crowd got up with a loud cheer and poured onto the floor. He grabbed his girlfriend’s hand and they raced to the center, their friends not far behind. The night was young, and the colours were golden and time was nothing but a way to count how many times you can smile in a second.

Many songs and a break to grab some water later Charlie requested the music to stop for a little. “Hello everyone. Seeing your beautiful faces makes me extremely emotional and if I was wearing my eyeliner, I’d be cursing you all for making it smudge. Thank the gods my mascara is waterproof.”

They all laughed, and harder when his wives made a funny face beside him.

“Today may be the happiest day of my life but I know tomorrow will be even happier because I cannot imagine life being anything else with these two by my side for forever.” He kissed them both, love overflowing from his eyes.

“And to commemorate the joy and never-ending brightness they’ve brought into our lives I’ve compiled a little video with the help of you guys. Thank you for making this day so special. I know even when I am old and greying it will play in my mind like a dream. To mis corazones, I will always love you enough to keep the fire in your souls. This is for you.”

The video started with their smiling faces and as memory after memory reeled across the screen the tears flowed in abundance. Little messages from people popped up on as the pictures flashed. A video of Drew and Silena laughing at a picnic they all went on four years ago in this very field played on screen. The trio held each other tighter and whispered something that ended on a sob of gratefulness. Zoe wiped Jason’s cheeks, kissing him softly.

“Someday Zo,” He mumbled, leaning into her. The music started up again and he wrapped his arm around her waist as the video faded into the background, as everything faded away.

Fatal, this attraction, yeah we might just end up crashin' But I'm ready if it happens with you Meet me out in Cali when I'm far away from family And I need someone to hold onto

She hugged him tighter, the music seeping into their lungs. He could feel her heartbeat against his own, like twin drums, rapid, racing. He hummed along, let his lips skim over her skin. Life was faraway but the stars swayed under his hands and the night sky glittered with luxury.

We could burn and crash We could take a chance Holdin' nothin' back Like it's our last dance

Zoe clung to him like her life depended on it. Maybe it did. There was a flash of light and a faded thank you. The photographer was already on to the next couple, but they were immortalised in that memory card.

“Jase,” She whispered.

He pulled back slightly so he was staring into her, “What’s wrong my stella?”

“I-“ She breathed, “I have to tell you something.”

“Are you alright?” She looked so scared, sad. “Do you want to leave?”

“My dad came to visit me while I was in hospital.”

“Oh gods Zo,” He pulled her to him, “Are you okay? He didn’t say anything did he?”

“Our deal is up,” Her body was shaking with sobs, “I have to go home.”

“No!” His lungs collapsed, “No, what? No.”

“I asked for more time, but he said no.” Her eyes fractured.

“Why can’t you stay here why do you have to go? Is that the deal you made?” This wasn’t happening. This wasn’t real. He can’t do this.

“I was supposed to start a practice of my own,” She choked, “Something that would make him money. That was the only way I could move out of the house.”

“But can’t you just start one now? I’ll give you capital if that’s what you need? We can go get registered tomorrow.”

She shook her head vigorously, gasping on her words, “I can’t, I can’t, I can’t.”

“Stella,” He can’t feel his legs, “Please there has to be another. We have to find a way for you to stay.”

She shook her head, “I can’t stay because–“ Her cry shattered his fractured soul, “I can’t stay because I’m marrying someone else.”

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

I’M SORRY!

Tags (if you want to be added to/ taken off the tag list just let me know, all my channels of communication are open):

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@leydiangelo

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@lucyisblue

[justjessame]

Starting Over Chapter 31

“Are you SURE I don’t look fu-” my eyes went wide and I shot Bryn a look of utter horror, but she was happily playing on my bed and ignoring her mother and me at my vanity.  “Ridiculous?”  I finished with a hushed murmur as Connie held in a laugh that I hoped would crack her damn rib.  How dare she saddle me with a goddaughter who not only parroted my potty mouth, but would shake down my ass for cash to fund her fucking swear jar?  Little mafia princess to be, I’m telling you.  

Connie was still working on my first layer, the makeup I’d managed on my own, thank you very much - but she was handling the hair.  And my hair was giving her enough of a battle that she was utilizing every damn trick she’d learned in cosmetology school.  “Hedy Lamarr,” she muttered, eyes on my laptop where the dark haired woman’s photo was blown up to show the curls that she was trying to imitate with my own lighter strands.  “She wasn’t ONLY a bombshell, she was a genius.”  

I smirked, “I know.”  I’d picked her from a few of the famous faces we’d set aside after Bucky and I’d spent more time together, the longer we’d talked and the more I learned about him - his hint of geekiness hidden under a huge layer of sexiness - had made Miss Lamarr the obvious choice in the end.  That and her style seemed simpler.  I had doubts now, as Connie was forcing my non-parted hair into a middle part and then worked my natural waves into actual curls.  “Bucky,” I held back a groan as she tugged at my head, “he’s fascinated with -”

“You,” Connie murmured, her own smirk creeping onto her face.  “And he’s a geek, isn’t he?”  She shook her head when I glanced up.  “What?  Hot guys are into the weirdest stuff, Brooke, they always have been.”  She shrugged.  “Joey likes period dramas more than me and he gets more invested in them,” I raised an eyebrow and she snorted.  “I swear he threw popcorn at the screen and hissed during ‘Pride and Prejudice’ when Elizabeth was acting like she was falling for Wickham.”  I giggled.  “He’s a mess, but he’s MY mess, so I put up with it.”  

“Back to my issue,” I tried to shove the image of Joey Amoruso hissing and spitting at a movie screen with Victorian characters dancing and falling in love far out of my head so I could focus on the problem at hand.  “Am I couldn’t to look stupid?”  

Connie stood back, taking in my hair and makeup, I was wearing my robe over the matching underwear set that I’d ordered to go under the dress that I would put on after I made sure that dinner was ready and waiting for Bucky.  The nylons, with their razor sharp lines were on and perfectly straight, thanks to my best friend, hooked into a garter belt that I wasn’t any more certain of than the rest of the get up that had sounded much better when I first considered the idea.  

“You are going to look so many things, Brookie, but stupid is NOT one of them.”  

Connie and Bryn were long gone by the time Bucky called to tell me he was on his way.  He’d texted during the day, while he was waiting for his appointment with Raynor, when he went in search of boxes for the move, while he contemplated if he wanted to move everything in one go or take trips - not that there was all that much, but he worried about overwhelming any driver.  

By the time I knew he was on his way, I’d ordered our dinner from Romeo’s.  The same thing we’d had our first dinner together.  I set the scene the best I could, with candles around the living room and I had my phone set up to start playing a playlist of the greatest and most romantic songs from when he left in 1943 and when he would have come back in 1945, had everything gone the way they should have.  

I had a decision to make - should I wait downstairs, in the living room or should I wait out of sight upstairs and come down once he was inside?  I wasn’t planning on screaming “surprise” or “boo”, but I did want to have the greatest impact with the least amount of damage - it took me longer than I care to admit to decide.  

His knock, which I answered with a loud “come in” from upstairs, was followed by him opening the door.  I listened as he had help from his driver with his boxes and bags, then once I heard him thank the man and say goodnight, I finally stepped onto the top step.

“Brooke?”  He turned away from the door that he had just closed and locked and looked up, his eyes finding the toes of my heels first, then as if his gaze could scald its way up my body I felt every inch as it rose higher.  

I’d contemplated, when I first thought of this asinine idea, getting a dress like what I imagined Dot had worn to Coney Island.  Something simple and casual.  Then, when I sat with Connie and Mertle I realized that - if I’d been with Bucky when he’d gone off to the unknowns of war and he came home to me safe and sound, I’d want his welcome to be something MORE.  Which is why I chose something less casual, less simple.  A little MORE than what Dot had worn to Coney when he spent all his and Steve’s money trying to win her that bear.  

With that in mind, I’d found a dress that was a bit more form fitting than most - black with a lacy bodice and cap sleeves.  The heels were surprisingly easy to find to match the dress, rounded toes, stacked heel, lacy looking leather.  Bucky’s visual tour was taking forever, and I was feeling more and more self conscious the longer it took.  My makeup, once he made it to my face, was the red lip that was so fashionable then and now, the dramatic eye and of course the soft curls framing it all courtesy of the great Hedy Lamarr.  I swallowed as his eyes finally met mine.  

“Welcome home, Bucky.”  If I doubted how he’d receive my gift, how he’d take seeing me cosplay his past, I soon learned that it was all for naught.  He took the stairs two at a time to reach me, then his arms were wrapped around me, careful of the dress as he stared down at me.  “You approve?”  It came out in a rush of breath, but I wanted to be sure.  

“You did all this for me?”  He was staring at me like he’d never seen me before and I nodded, biting my lip without care for the crimson stain.  “Why?”  It wasn’t a question of how dare I, but why would I think to?  

“Because, Bucky Barnes, I wanted to welcome you home, finally.”  And that seemed to unlock something in him, his smile grew and his lips met mine and I knew that he DEFINITELY approved.  

I managed to get him down to the living room, where we lit all those candles and I started the playlist and found out that James Buchanan Barnes LOVES to dance.  He held me and gave me a masterclass in just how little my dad and all the boys I ever had the misfortune to take a turn around a dance floor with over the years knew about the study.  And he looked at peace.  He looked even happier when our food arrived from Romeo’s, shaking his head when I tried to convince him that we could eat it in the living room.

“In that dress?”  He pulled me into the dining room, where I’d placed more candles and after depositing the boxes with our food, he lit them and held out my chair.  “You look too beautiful to sit on the floor, Brooke.”  

“I could always just take it off,” I offered, as he shot me a look over the open box.  “We don’t have plates, Buck.”  I laughed, getting up to grab some, but he pulled me back down.  

“Brooklyn born and raised,” he was smirking, using my own words against me.  “Did you forget how to eat a slice, already?”  

I shook my head, but sat back and realized that this was our life now.  Playful and silly, but also sexy and hot - wow.  Watching him take a slice, folding it properly, but wait for me to take my own before he took the first bite I thought that we’d made a good choice rushing headfirst into everything.  

Eating Romeo’s pizza over the box by candlelight in our dining room, with the sounds of my 1940s playlist softly playing from the living room Bucky told me about his visit with Raynor.  

“I told her about us,” I bit my lip and his smile grew.  “About moving in with you, well about our plans -” my eyebrow arched and he licked some errant grease and sauce off his lip.  “What?  I had to pack first, so it was still a plan - technically.”  

I shook my head and leaned forward.  “Did you get a gold star?”  This was the most important part, wasn’t it?  My eyes were narrowed, waiting for confirmation.  “Well, Sergeant Barnes?”  

“Raynor is very pleased with my progress, Miss Ashley,” he told me in the most professional voice I’d ever heard him use.  “She thinks that the interpersonal relationship I’m developing with you - the ease in which we seem to be able to communicate with one another and the way we both seem to fit into one another’s life makes her feel that I’m making a real effort to grow as a person.”  His brow had grown furrowed as he continued his speech while my teeth were digging so deeply into my lip that I wondered when I’d taste blood.  “The fact that you and I are even discussion cohabitation is leaps and bounds beyond what she imaged for my progress - especially since I’m not finished -”

I had to stop him, because I was going to crack a rib from the urge to laugh at his tone, or throw something from irritation at his ‘doctor’s’.  “I think I get the gist, Buck.”  His eyes seemed to flash when they zeroed in on mine.  “Let’s put away the leftovers and -”

“And finish welcoming me home?”  He bit his lip and from flashing eyes to darkening, my stomach clenched.  “I think I like that plan, Brooke.”  And I preferred the way his voice had returned to normal, deep and - Bucky. 

[imtryingthisout]

Of Flames and Fire: Prologue

[If you hate me for writing this, just remember I hate myself more and that this began because of a joke.]

Warnings: Ask to Tag

Word Count: 3627

Fandom: Disney Descendants

*************************************************

Dirt clung to the fringes of Maleficent’s robes as she descended deeper into the cavernous warren. Once upon a time her presence would have struck such fear that not even the dust mites would have dared come near her, but such a time was over now, and now the endings of her black cloak grew more and more soiled with every step she took.

She held a twisted candelabra in one hand and her faithful staff in the other. The small flame burned a deep rouge color, more red than yellow, with how thick and low the air had become. Maleficent was surprised it still burned at all. She was thankful for the candle’s valiant effort. Gone were the days where she could summon a ball of hellfire to illuminate the room, and with all the dust and filth in the air she wasn't sure her darkvision would be of any use.

A drop of hot wax struck her fingers.

Maleficent continued onwards.

As she ventured closer and closer to her destination, the sound of barking began to ring in her ears. Viscous growls, the sound of teeth hitting teeth, shrieks and yelps and oh so much barking. Were she a lesser soul it might have frightened her, or at the very least given her a pause, but she knew that no dog (three headed or otherwise) lived down here, just a lonely master trying to cope with the sound of silence.

(Out of everything her new prison tormented her with, Maleficent never thought she would grow to loathe the quiet. The silence. Even on the Forbidden Mountain she would hear the rustling of wind, the roaring cacophony of her minion’s delight, the sound of Diablo’s deep cawing. But here, even with the tumult of the budding city of thieves and villains, her thoughts screamed louder than any noise. Here she felt more alone than she ever did atop her ruined castle.)

No door was mounted to the cave’s wall, it would be far too impractical to do so, so Maleficent raised a curved fist and knocked thrice on a wooden post instead. “Who is it?” a voice called out from lower in the room, it sounded irritated and gruff, good. Maleficent smiled “Just a passing visitor Lord Hades”.

Quicker than she thought possible, the exiled Monarch of the Underworld stood leaning against the doorframe, one arm draped over the rotten wood and his head tilted with a school boy smile (if a school boy had eyes of glowing brimstone and thorny rows of sharp teeth protruding from his gums). “Why Miss Maleficent, what brings you to my little.. home away from home?”

She took a moment to drink in his sight, he looked more or less the same as he did when they first met, a little more tired, maybe, a little less put together, thick silver-colored cuffs bound round his wrists to drain his godly might. Still something about him seemed different, she couldn't quite place her finger on it, then she met his gaze. “Kohl around the eyes, Lord Hades? I do hope you aren't going Egyptain on me”

He snorted and rolled his- yes, black lined- eyes “Nah those guys are great, but they sure as Me don’t need another Death God. Besides- Blue Hair? Blue Skin? It’s already confusing enough for mortals to get us mixed up at parties, and don't even get me started on the Ptolemaic Pantheon menagerie, cultural syncretism is fun and all but all that rewriting and re-rewriting and who’s who even got my head more turned around than the gordian knot!”

Here Hades stood taller than Maleficent, even with his slumped posture and hunched back. The slope of the floor was curved in his favor. Her horns were a brandished crown growing, twisting, above her head and barely scraping the stone above her.

She let the humor linger in the air for a breath before speaking. “I have a proposition for you, my lord” she said while dismissing the candle and setting it down on a rock ledge. The light from Hades’ hair and lair would suffice to brighten her vision. Maleficent raised a free arm “Shall we continue our conversation inside? I feel it would be awfully rude to lurk in doorways.” Hades’ smile grew wider, almost splitting his face in two.

“My dearest disgrace to all things dignified, it would be my pleasure” He said, taking her arm and leading her inside. Despite herself she snorted. “My lord I am always dignified, it is deferential which I am not”

Hades’s new domain lay deep underground in the heart of the Isle. Despite his many years of hatred of being saddled with the burden of the Underworld, the room appeared very similar to his old home. ‘Perhaps that is the point’, Maleficent thought, wondering if his new dwelling was really of Hades’ choosing, or did he simply wake up on the Isle in a room modeled after his old kingdom, swapping an old prison for a new one. She wasn’t sure if Zeus had it in him...but Zeus wasn't the only one hurt by Hades’ failed machinations, and she knew that Hera certainitly did, fondness for her older brother or not- the Queen of Gods would not have hesitated to rub salt in any wounds of her child’s stealer. Especially when such irony would have been involved.

In another life, perhaps it would have been Hera who Maleficent would be conversing with, she did always have a healthy respect for the Golden Throned Goddess,like draws to like afterall, and there is nothing more similar yet individual than women with power.

Then again, in another life she wouldn't need to bargain, in another life she would have crushed Prince Phillip’s sword between her teeth and swallowed him whole, in another life she would have blessed the infant Princess with a gift of her own, something clever and far more powerful than any of the Three Sisters trivial delights. In another life---

Hades leads her to a sitting area, long tatham benches set interlocking with one another, made of dark ebony wood. Maleficent gathers the excess of her robe in her grip and takes a seat, then slowly lets the fabric flow down and unfurl on the clean gray floor. The Lord of the Dead seats himself next to her, and after a moment’s pause, she allows him to wrap one of his hands around her waist.

“I have come to reclaim my debt, Your Majesty” she begins, he laughs and jokes “I’m not a accountant dollface, you’ll have to be more specific. I think I still got some styx-water sloshing around in my skull” but she can see the tightness around his eyes, the stiffness in his fingers as he cleans his ear and flicks a droplet of water over his shoulder, he knows exactly what she is referring to. He also knows that his newfound lack of power might have put him in a very precarious situation. Maleficent smiles sharply.

The grip on her waist tightens.

“Then let me help to restart your memory, years ago you needed an elixir that would turn anything, even a God, mortal. I concocted such a potion on the clause that you would… how did you say it? ‘Owe me one bigtime mama '’” she said drolling her words and making air quotations with her slender fingers. The God of The Dead had the decency to look sheepish, a bright blue blush blooming under his siltstone skin. “Okay yeah might’ve been a bit drunk on success when I said that…”

“Mmhmm” Maleficent hummed, raising a single eyebrow.

“....sorry”

“In any case, a deal is a deal, and now I see to collect my end of our bargain”

“It would be my pleasure my lovely lady of labilzation--” “that one was better” “Thank you I do try, --- however I’m sure it has not escaped your notice that, unlike before, I no longer have the Underworld and all its resources at my disposal to grant your dark heart’s deepest desire-- “Lord Hades are you implying I ever had a heart to begin with?” “ Ha ha no. But you do have desires that our current predicament might limit me from fulfilling”

“And you do hate to leave your women unfulfilled, don’t you Hades?”

“Yes I- HEY” Hades began with his usual smooth inflection, not even really looking at her, before cutting himself on and standing up in outrage. Face pinched and flushed. He started pacing back and forth in front of her while Maleficent looked on in cruel delight. He was yammering about something, going on about respect and proper dues and getting wonderfully worked up about himself. It almost made her nostalgic.

“I mean I know I’m no roving casanova like dear little Zeus-y, Persphone would gut me for even trying that and--”

Then his body stilled and he turned to face her, running his hands through his hair to gather his thoughts. Pity, she was enjoying she show. “Alright I get it, playtimes over. What do you want Maleficent? What under this damned barrier could be so important that you need to cash in on?”

“You and I both know Lord Hades that there are forces far older and far more powerful than this Godmother’s little trick. Deals, oaths, dept, magic sworn by magic will be repaid in turn. ” Maleficent raised herself slowly, taking small measured steps to where Hades stood shadowed by the cavern’s light. “As for what I want? That's simple, I want your name”

Name, she hissed out the word, the word that had churned and boiled somewhere deeper than her stomach and rose up her throat, that fell down her tongue and turned sharp and low against her teeth. The word that made her eyes flash with a power that no well intentioned Godmother or once cursed King could contain.

The word that made the Lord of the Dead, Hades himself, fall stumbling backwards to his knees. The shadow wrenched away from him in haste, revealing his wide eyes and- oh how she missed this- positively wreaked expression. If she was someone else she would say he was nervous, his face too numb to be fearful, but Maleficent knew better. He was terrified.

Pleas spilt from his lips like ambrosia in a clumsy hand. He was almost begging her now, with more fervor than he ever begged before--

( In times of old when the earth was freshly taken and the sky still red with titan’s blood, three brothers gathered to divide the cosmos between themselves. The youngest made his claim to the sky and took it’s child, the mighty thunderbolt, as his symbol. He gifted the sea to the middle brother who accepted it glady, but to the oldest he gave no pearl-rich land or magnificent heaven, but the burden of the damned and dead. The darkest corners of the world, where no light reached and the wild souls wandered aimlessly in the eternal darkness. His older brother objected, of course, and perhaps he even set aside his pride to grovel, but the youngest was unyielding. )

“Please Mali, don’t, not that I’ll do anything--”

( Once Ra fell sick from a clay snake bite, and called a council of every man and women and God to come and aid him, but they could do nothing. Then he called for Isis, for surely she would have the answers to his prayers. “What ever you need, I will provide” And so Isis said to the sun god Ra, ‘Great king of The Heavens and all we hold dear, the venom in your blood is much too strong, the only way I can heal you is with the knowledge of your Name’. So Ra listed off all of his titles and epithets, of which he had many, but Isis was not deterred. ‘My Lord and King, though those names are as grand and great as you are, they are not the one of which I refer to. If you wish to continue as yourself, ruler of the Gods, I will need your Rem to cure you’ said Isis and Ra knew she spoke the truth. Banishing the other medicine men and healers from the room he took Isis into his wings and bared to her the fifth of his soul, the name in which all his power sprang from. Isis took the name and healed Ra, feeling the universe realign with her at its helm, Goddess above Gods, of life and moon and medicine and magic. The fruits of her cunning rewarded hundredfold. And she smiled.)

“-- you don't want that old thing, I mean, what would you even do with my name anyway? It’s not like it would be of any use to you here”

“That, Your Majesty, is where you are wrong.” Maleficent slammed the end of her staff on top of the end of Hades’ robe, catching him in place as he tried to flinch backwards. She knelt before him, his back arched so completely he resembled more of a semicircle than a fallen God, his body so small here compared to hers. The long tendrils of her cloak sprawled themselves across the floor, their edges slithering like snakes, writhing and engulfing them, Hades was a cold star trapped amidst a sea of dark fabric.

“You asked me what could be so important to me that I would risk claiming my due of our agreement here, under this hell forsaken barrier. Why would I step into the limelight after years of isolation to rule an island of filth and trash” she pressed a single nail to his face tilting it up, forcing him to meet her gaze. “Because here is where my child will be born, and no blood of mine will be powerless while I still live to conquer and provide”

Her child, who was barely an weight in her arms, hungry for magic where there was none, hungry for food unrotten and drink unspoiled. If Maleficent was kinder she would crush it’s skull beneath her feet and spare it from a life full of pain and longing. Years of torment and clawing at it’s own skin spared in a moment’s decision.

(Her child, who could one day release their Mother from her prison, if they had will to do so.)

Maleficent had never been a kind person.

She did, however, on the seldom occlusion, know mercy and how to manipulate the unwilling. She could just rip his name from his chest, leave him broken and shivering on the cold stone floor. The thought was tempting, it really had been too long since she last had the chance to destroy someone so thoroughly, but she knew it would be better in the long run if she could get Hades to cooperate. Never let it be said she wasn’t a patient Mistress.

Leaning her weight forward she gingerly took one of Hades’ wrists in her hand, turning it over and carefully inspecting the thick band that now encircled it . This close she could feel the way it softly vibrated under her touch, the binding sigils carved so delicately and deep into the metal.

Her skin burned on contact, but you would never tell by her expression, eyes trained on the way Hades’ life force flowed. Faint traces of his magic traveling down his veins and funneling into the band, which would pulse slightly and constrict, the sigils would glow and hold, before loosening its too tight grip on its host. Then the cycle would continue anew.

It was one of the most brilliantly constructed and horrid devices Maleficent had ever laid her eyes on.

It was a work of art.

And as she read the runes she began to recognize what artist could have made such a beautiful thing.

“Do you know just how luck you are Lord Hades? While the rest of us villains must serve a penance that will span the rest of our days, you sit here with shackles holding only until you meet their requirements. I always wondered why Auradon would risk the order of the world just to fulfill their pallid sense of morality, and here my questions are answered. It seems the true nature of your punishment is far more poetic than a measly imprisonment, no, the true keys to your freedom lay in siring a child,”

A cold sense of realization dawned on Hades, “Hera” he whispered.

“How does the saying go again? An eye for an eye.” Maleficent pushed her nail deeper into the skin of his arm “A lost babe for a lost babe.”

Something inside Hades’ eyes broke at her words, and he begun laughing, freely, manic not maniacal, the laugh of a man who knew the entire cosmos was a joke and now he finally got the punchline. “Oh Hera!” He cried out, gathering the shattered pieces of himself and pulling them together.

He stood up from underneath her, fluid as smoke escaping from her grasp, as if his body was still atmos and ichor- not confined to rigid flesh and blood. ( A distant part of Maleficent imagines Hades, stumbling and impaling his head against a stalagmite as he has to relearn how to walk again, learn how to live in a body so forign yet familiar.) He did not offer to help her, and she made no move to rise, instead she remained sitting, her back ramrod straight and hands folded across her staff which rested on her lap.

Over the sounds of running water and the everpresent barking, Maleficent could hear the sounds of his brain work. Spinning gears within gears furiously trying to take in the new information and generate a more beneficial outcome for himself. “Alright, you want my name, you want power, you want little Maleficent Junior to grow up with magic, which I can’t blame you for. I want to get out of here and I want my wife not to kill me on my arrival, so I propose a solution that just might work for us both”

“Go on”

“ gift part of my name to the little tyke, giving them- and by extension you- power that not even this blasted barrier can suppress. That means that in the eyes of magic, I’m basically your baby’s daddy”

“And are you willing to uphold that responsibility? I have no need for a husband nor a housekeeper, but both dragons and fae are known for their possessiveness and of them I am both”

Hades didn't miss a blink, shark toothed smiled fixed back in place on his face “My magnificent Mistress of Misery from now until my chains are unfettered and I am called away to return to my Iron throne, I do swear to treat your little demonspawn as if they were born from the rotten fruit of my loins. Now, do we have an agreement?” Now he looked down at her, hand extended for her to shake. “Going once… going twice..”

Maleficent leapt forward, her hand digging deep into the weak flesh of his arm, she used to movementum to pull herself close to him, nose to nose, sharpened teeth to sharpened teeth, her horns haloing her head- two blackened crests protruding from her skull that reflected the dull blue light of the room. “Its a deal” she declared. Smiling viscously as she felt her eyes flare, not gold, but green, green as burning hellflame, fire in its purest form.

If this were anywhere else but The Isle of The Lost, thunder would crack at their declaration, a ring of light would maifest around their grip sealing their oath in color and magic. The air would ignite at their words. However, this was The Isle, and so the only illumination of fate’s rearrangement came from the flicker of light on Hades’ wrists as the runes surged, the taste of copper under Maleficent’s tongue, and the deep bone-seated feeling that something big will come. This was the stone whose ripple will cause the wave years down the line.

Maleficent hoped it would rise and drown the whole world.

She almost smiled at the thought.

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

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

“Huh”

“What?”

“You know when you said you had a baby, I kinda pictured- you know- a baby”

“I do hope you aren't talking bad about our child, it hasn't even hatched yet”

“Maleficent thats not a child, thats an egg”

“You think I would birth a infant mammal? Don’t be so crude, egg laying is a much more civilized method of reproduction”

“Wait does that make you a reptile? Oh sweet Zeus don’t tell me you are? What can you unhinge your jaw? Do you have a hemi--”

“Silence your tongue Lord Hades before I cut it out myself”

“Sorry sweetcheeks I couldn't resist”

“....”

“...sorry”

“Now traditionally Mother and Daughter would pass on a portion of their name until the time came where the Daughter earned to full title of Maleficent, usually by slaying their Mother and taking her name for herself. Until that day a middle name would serve as a placeholder to help differentiate them, a Mal Bertha or Mal Lamia or something of the sort. If you are giving up one of your titles, perhaps Mal Aidoneus would suffice?”

“Yeah, no”

“No?”

“Listen, Fairy G’s little parasite pocket is going to hone in on quote the name of the “The Mistress of All Evil” like a cyclopes at a half-off everything sunglass sale. You want this kid to have even a smidgen of a chance we gotta change it up a bit.”

“Well then Your Majesty I don’t suppose you have any better Ideas”

“........Malenthea”

“Hm?”

“Her name, it will be Malenthea”

“Then so mote it be”

“....”

“....”

“HOLY RHEA YOU DIDN'T TELL ME THE EGG WOULD EXPLODE--”

[orcaraminga]

The Shadow’s Groom

Writer’s tip: listen to this song while you read! Polite opinions and advices are welcome.

   Once upon a time there was a man. A tiny, old and grey man. Grey were the hair, grey were the eyes, grey was his skin and grey was his soul. He was so grey, so deeply grey that who looked at him just couldn't understand if once this man could have been white or black. Maybe life just faded him with her merciless timeless dust, or maybe he used to be an evil man that after years just got tired of his own wicked nature, but without the ability of turning pure. Nobody could understand, nobody simply cared.

Who could have ever had an interest in a little man of smudge, after all?

People just looked at him and with conviction decided not to trust him. He was grey, and you never understand where to put grey. Is it nearer to the black, or just a little bit darker than white? There weren't easy answers in that man. There weren't answers at all and this could force human minds to face themselves.

People just couldn't stand this confront. So they banished him from their lives and left him alone with his dead companions. At first, the Grey Man didn't care. Time passed, he got used to loneliness.

And for the darkness he was surrounded by, the world started to call him the Shadow's Groom.

 He had his plans. Also some revenge plans; he had his dead companions (mostly made of futureless and bitter memories), he had clear ideas about existence and pain and people. Actually he couldn't stand people too, he couldn't trust them for the same reasons they would never have trusted him. Ignorance, fear and grief. The man knew grief very well, that's the reason of the dead companions, because they knew grief too. Well: maybe. No one could be certain.

So this faded man spent time trying to put himself out of the living world, almost like his dead companions, but partially failing, 'cause he was still alive. He didn't care so much about others, unless the ones who betrayed him in the past. They could always try to hit him again but that time, he thought, that time he would be prepared to pay back.

So the life of the man of smudge was made of waiting, with a taste of bitterness. There was nothing else left behind.

 But one day, when he was walking on the edge of a place called The Great Abyss, an odd creature appeared to him.

She was known as The Shadow, but she preferred only Shadow.

Strange, isn't it?

 By the way, the Shadow easily noticed the Grey Man. Looking at him with curiosity.

The man stared back. < What do you want? > he asked. Not interested in her name or identity, but he wanted to understand why someone would have watched so hard his...

< Your skin is grey. >

< I never realized. > Yes, the man was mordacious... and sarcastic.

< Did you lost your colors? Everybody needs colors. >

< You seem pretty too dark to say it... >

< You're right, but because I have too much for my own... that's why I am so dark. >.

 Shadow was of a mysterious, attractive and iridescent black. A tall woman that seemed almost made of petroleum, and flashes of colors flowed in her skin like exposed veins. The world stared at her like once we used to stare at stars, never daring to get closer, never even thinking of it.

However, the grey man was totally out from the world or maybe totally out of head to care. He just wanted to study her, to understand if she was a danger to him. Well, she was - of course she was. Shadows always feel like danger to the human race. But the Grey Man always had this ambitious desire to dominate and control everything in order to protect himself.

How silly of him.

< And usually how do you use these... colors? >.

< In lots of way, both good and evil >.

< So you are not grey; in some absurd, non-logic way, you are white and black at the same time... you are ambiguous and for this reason dangerous, unreliable >.

She smiled with a sort of pride. < People don't trust me because I saddle myself. I know I can't be only good or only evil. So I act both. Even if it feels better to be good, looking bad sometime is funnier! >

The man's eyes flashed with understanding and surprise. < You are a personification of Caos >.

< Possibly. Or maybe, something like Necessary Evil. You instead transpire Order and Control. What a boring person. >

< I am a serious person. >.

< Boring men always say so. >.

She never seemed worried. She wasn't scared at all and she was unpredictable exactly as she looked.

The Grey Man didn't like it. He remained silent.

 < But we were talking about colors. Where the hell are yours? > she continued. The other didn't answer, drowning his look into the Great Abyss. < That's none of your business. >

She didn't insisted. Not yet. But the day after, she asked again. And the next day. And the day after that.

And every single time, the Grey Man answered always the same way. < None. Of. Your. Business. > at the beginning quietly, but the last times... growling. Patience is not a quality we are all born with.

Finally his dead companions, with their cadaverous appearance, their cold hands, their pale skins and their empty sight came to him. < Maybe you should just answer... >.

< Maybe you should just shut up. > he replied, crossed arms and look in the Great Abyss as every morning.

 < Don't be mad with your companions just because they love you more than themselves >

He sighed, looking at clouds with exasperation. < I am not mad. I am just tired. >

< Did you know that some colors help renovate spiritual energy? > asked the Shadow with a lightly smile.

To be honest, the Gray Man just wanted to strangle her. Unluckily, she was a being as strong and powerful as him. It wasn't very easy defeat someone like The Shadow and that was another reason to dislike the woman.

< Seriously?! > A second sigh. < I don't need them >.

<Why? Love is the color to our canvas, don't you think? >

<I don't want either color or love. I am fine this way. >

She sneered. < Yeah, of course. >

Shadow was a ironic, annoying creature so the Grey Man simply ignored her or pretended to.

< But you didn't answer the first question. >

Oh, please. Someone just make this foolish woman stop talking.

 His companions were vanished. Of course they were. Dead people are not known for bravery.

And you really needed that to watch the Shadow and the Gray Man together, 'cause you never knew how it would have ended. Screaming? Fighting? Doom knew it. Really.

Damn.

< Where are your colours? >.

An instant eye to eye, and the man of smudge understood that woman would have never left him in peace. Never.

< They stole them from me. A long time ago. > He mumbled.

< Oh. > the genuine Shadow for a moment seemed shocked. For a moment. < I understand now... > a step, and she was touching his hair without asking. < You don't look so old, seeing close. >

He snorted. < Thank you. >

She laughed. < You are welcome. >

The old man wasn't old, no way. Not of age, at least.

He observed her night-dark skin, his hair in her star-shining fingers. She never had exactly the same look of the day before, but she was always dark and you could always see her colours' veins underneath. On the other hand, the Grey Man never seemed to change, like cold stones. He seemed.

< Would you stop touching me? Thank you > asked after a while, with uncomfortable feelings.

< They never told you? >

< What? >

< That you are crabbed. >

< Several times. >

Well, stones don't change easily...

 She slapped him out of frustration. < You are SO stupid, Grey Man! >.

He blinked, surprised, putting a hand on his cheek. < What the hell, Shadow! >.

< You are driving out what you feel! It is so obvious! Why??! >

< I don't know what are you talking about. >

< You are an able liar Grey Man, but not enough to fool me. Do not deny it! I saw them! >.

< What? >.

< Your colors! They may have stole them from you, but nobody can stay without theirs and nobody can keep other's ones forever! They still are within you >.

< I do NOT know anything of this. You are simply delirious. >

< You are hiding yourself from life! You idiot coward! >

< I am not hiding from anything! I am not an idiot and above all, I am not a coward! >

 < Are you sure? Than PROVE it! Show yourself to me! > she ordered with a thunder voice.

After those resonant words, the Shadow's hand transformed itself in a terrifying, bony clawed limb, black as Death Herself. The woman hit the man on the chest, above the heart. He shouted, falling on the ground, scratching himself.

 < What are you doing?! >.

< Sometimes you have to break a wall to find the treasure. Sometimes, you have to wound flesh to see red and blood and life. >

The Gray Man stood up just to back two steps away. And he started bleeding only to discover one, devastating thing.

  That he wasn't gray at all.

His blood was red just like the others' one, maybe more, much more. So were his muscles, his soul, his heart. Only the bones were totally white. Because of the terrible pain, he started crying even if he didn't wanted to. His eyes burned and looking in the new puddle of tears, he saw their natural color turning back again. Blue. Sky's blue.

< What's... what's happening to me? > he asked, thinking about running.

  < You can escape for all your stupid, non-sense life, Gray Man! You know that I'll always be the only one able to repair your wounds! >

She was right. The stretch would never healed by itself, Grey Man knew it.

Maybe it would have stopped bleeding after a while, but it'd never close, or get smaller.

He halted, rolling over his head to her. He did not want to escape from her.

 But the dark woman was angry and she didn't seem to care about anything but her rage. She was nearer to the Great Abyss than ever and she didn't notice it. The Grey Man did.

 When the Shadow fell down the hole, convinced that she would have passed the rest of eternity in the most miserable of all existences, she felt her wrist closely held by a hand. A strong, grey hand, stained by lines of blood and tears.

Only in that moment she noticed the blue eyes of the Grey Man.

The Great Abyss waited for a very long time hungering for their souls, but it was never fed.

 When the two were finally safe, the Grey Man slapped her.

< Ouch! It hurts! >

< Of course it hurts! And this is the lowest! > he answered angry. < You clawed me! You fool! >.

< ... I am sorry. It was necessary. >

Red because of rage or maybe something else unknown, the man grunted. < Brainless woman, you could have died or worse, much worse.  >.

< Fine! I was a little bit out of me >

< A LITTLE bit?! >

< But it was for the better. You had to face your ghosts. You needed to face the truth you tried to hide for years > she breathed heavily, a deep look into his eyes. < That you still are a living creature, my love >.

 The no-more-Gray Man stared at her with attention.

< And you truly are a personification of Caos, aren't you? >.

She smiled.

 < By the way... no. Don't try this, please. > he looked sad. < I am not worthy of you. Love is Giving and I have nothing to give you. > It was already a declaration of noble love from a humble man.

< You have yourself. > she touched gently his  bloodstained chest. The cuts began to heal. < You are enough to me as I am enough to you >.

< I have been grey for so many years... >

< I love you for the Brave Man you are, not for the Grey Mask you covered your heart with. >

 So the two mated, going away from that place of pain.

 And that was how the Grey Man eventually became the Shadow's Groom.