#the back looks like a hot fuckin mess because this was my first character silhouette

[futuremercifulnerd]

Finally finished this rug! Ugh, it has been such a labor of love because WOW it was frustrating lol Originally was going to sell it but wont be (for now, at least) for a number of quality reasons, I am however willing to make another! And probably will anyways! So if youre interested be on the look out :))

[alleiradayne]

JACKSON

Summary: Briana and Jensen sing Jackson at JIB Written for: @atc74‘s Duet Challenge Reboot Warnings/Tags: Fluff, music, singing, suggestive not-so-platonic friendship but it really is platonic. Characters/Pairings: Briana Buckmaster and Jensen Ackles Word Count: 1300 Song: Jackson by June Carter and Johnny Cash

Look, I know we work well together. I get it. I’m all too aware. Maybe even a little too aware. Screen or stage, it doesn’t matter where we are. When the two of us are together, filming, singing, or just kickin’ back and havin’ a few drinks, everyone in the room feels it. Call it what you want, but whatever it is, it’s palpable.

I’m not quite sure where it started either. Maybe it was that gag reel. Those fuckin’ donuts, man. Jensen’s a pro when it comes to comedy. He’s taught me a thing or two. I never realized it until he pointed it out on set a few months ago. A reel of our outtakes would last hours. I wish I had one. You know, for the rougher days. Especially now.

I know our personas on the show have a platonic BFF thing going on. But off screen, things definitely took a turn at JIB that year we sang Shallow. I’ll never forget it. It was Jensen's idea. In fact, he was the one that insisted I lay down an album. Never in a million years did I think I’d get back to my original dream.

But you know how Jensen can be. Persuasive and supportive and charming. I’m no dummy, I know what I look like when I look at him. And I know that gleam in his eyes, the hint of that confident smirk. And dammit, do I definitely know what I look like when he looks at me like that. It’s gotta be subconscious. We don't mean anything by it. We’re like family. He’s another big brother to me, and I’m a second little sister to him.

Not sure why my mind wandered there of all places. Nerves. Rome's not a huge gig, but it's a special one. After last year, we wanted to keep up the duet. And yet, as I stared at the sliver of blinding light between the curtains at the top of the stairs, I couldn’t help but think about—

"Ready, Buckmaster?"

Like struck glass, my rambling thoughts shattered into a million tiny glittering pieces, shimmering as they faded to nothing. Though darkness encompassed us both, I knew Jensen stood beside me. A deep breath steadied my heart. “Yeah.” A hard swallow caught my voice. "Yeah, I'm good."

“You’re in your head is what you are,” Jensen retorted. “What’s got your tongue?”

Despite my best efforts, I sounded far more unsure than I felt. “Nothing… just… last minute practice. You know. In here. Not that that makes any sense.”

Jensen scoffed as he wrapped an arm around my shoulder. “Of course it does." He paused. "Nervous?"

Stalled. I never stalled. "I… don't know," I stuttered. "Maybe? Couldn't really tell ya. Been a hot minute since I last felt any sort of nerves."

"I hear you," he said with a squeeze of his arm. The din of the tiny convention room filled the silent void between us until he shifted. From my shoulders to my hand, the warmth of his grasp slid into my palm. "You know what to do. Eyes on me. Nobody else is there." He paused once more as a cast member introduced us. “It's just you, me, and the music.”

With a reassuring squeeze of his hand, I said, "Right. Music. Us. That's it." Careful steps carried me up the stairs to the stage. Jensen trailed behind, his hand still clasped in mine as I turned over my shoulder and said, "Let's do this."

The sliver of light widened and revealed Jensen's brilliant smile as I pulled the curtain aside. "Go git it, sister."

Like a dial on a speaker, the dull roar of the crowd cranked to eleven and slammed into my chest with all the force of a speeding truck. And in that moment, with Jensen trailing behind me, tension seeped from my shoulders. The twitch in my fingers settled as I wrapped them around my mic. The uneasy flutter in my stomach quieted as I grasp the stand. And the lights. Thank god for those lights, brighter than the noon-day sun. A sea of black and white spread out before me, silhouettes in an endless ocean. Calm. Sweet, sensational calm.

The rhythm section drowned out the crowd, started without warning. That churning beat and strumming guitar drove the opening bars right on into the chorus, and so, we sang.

We got married in a fever Hotter than a peppered sprout We’ve been talkin’ ‘bout Jackson Ever since the fire went out

Yeah I’m goin’ to Jackson I'm gonna mess around Yeah I'm goin' to Jackson Look out Jackson town

The gig always felt different than rehearsals. No matter all my prep, it still felt entirely different. Granted we only ever sang to tracks in our practice, but that was enough for Jensen. He was a natural talent. He didn't even need to try. And maybe the first couple of runs I tried to live up to some crazy uncommunicated expectation I thought he had of me. But another one of Jensen's many talents is reading people like open books.

Memories of those rehearsals flooded my mind as I turned to him and sang my verse.

Well go on down to Jackson Go ahead and wreck your health Go play your hand you big-talkin' man Make a big fool of yourself Yeah, go to Jackson Go comb your hair

He always let me ruffle his hair.

Honey, I'm gonna snowball Jackson.

He always winked.

See if I care.

Something about the live shows hooks me so hard into the moment that I forgot to experience them. Forgot to be in the moment. I get caught up in the performance, get the lyrics right, don't get too creative, no obnoxious arpeggios or ridiculous embellishments. Keep the audience engaged, breathe, breathe again, long line, don't forget to breathe. Breathe, Briana. God dammit, breathe.

When I breeze into that city People gonna stoop and bow

HA!

His dark glare snapped to me, accompanied by a mischievous grin. By the middle of his verse, he towered over me, that glare far more devious than it had started.

All them women gonna make me Teach 'em what they don’t know how Yeah, I'm goin' to Jackson You turn-a loose-a my coat 'Cause I'm goin' to Jackson

No acting class can teach you how to push away from an attractive man as you sing to his face.

‘Goodbye,” that's all she wrote!

My turn.

But they'll laugh at you in Jackson And I’ll be dancing’ on a Pony Keg They’ll lead you ‘round town like a scolded hound With your tail tucked between your legs, Yeah, go to Jackson, you big-talkin’ man. And I’ll be waitin’ in Jackson Behind my Japan Fan

Another run at the chorus reunited our voices. Enough voices to be heard in the audience joined us, too. Jackson wasn’t just a song to me; it was a story. On the surface, it sounds like a quarreling couple who married too fast and in the midst of lust rather than love. But then we sang together.

Yeah, we’re goin’ to Jackson Ain’t never comin’ back

Jackson reignited their love. In the end, they found each other in Jackson. And that’s the story I love to tell.

Jensen finished the song in casual Johnny Cash fashion and the accompanying rhythm section faded away, overwhelmed by the crowd cheering and clapping.

And just like that it was over. Another gig in the books. Jensen smiled, waved, kissed the top of my head. And I hugged him the only way I could, around his waist like a kid sister.

Because, despite the way it always looked, that was all we’ve ever been.  Big brother. Kid sister.

Kindred spirits telling stories with song.

Feedback is appreciated! Feel free to reblog, too!

If you want in on any of my tags (Sam/Jared, Dean/Jensen), send me a DM or an ask!

ALLEIRADAYNE’S SPN MASTER LIST

@atc74  @hannahindie @bevans87  @meganwinchester1999  @oneshoeshort @jonogueira @andkatiethings @elfinmox @princessofthefandomrealm  @just-another-busy-fangirl @jmekitchens @81mysteriouslyme @dolphincliffs  @seenashwrite  @canadianspnhunter  @meowmeow-motherfucker  @staycejo1 @hobby27  @pretty-fortune @mypopculturediva @fanfictionjunkie1112 @sandlee44 @4llmywr1tings @claitynroberts @maddiepants @donnaintx @blackeyedangel9805​ @rainflowermoon​ @winchesterprincessbride​  @lazinessisalliknow​ @the-is13​ @waywardafgrandma​ @keymology​ @sister-winchesters99​ @amanda-teaches​ @amandamdiehl​ @onethirstyunicorn​ @spnbaby-67​

[fanfictionized]

The Hating Game - Where It All Began (8)

Characters: Lance Tucker x Latina!OFC

Chapter Summary: The Reader has a hard time believing that people - especially Lance- can change. He’s about to prove her wrong...

Warnings: fluff, making out

Words: 3.4k

The Hating Game - Masterlist // Previous Chapter

Lucy couldn’t stop squirming in her seat, getting home and taking a shower and getting all dressed and ready half an hour before he would come to pick her up.

She sat back in her chair, tugging at the burnt-sienna-colored dress with the low cleavage she had decided to wear (because he deserved that much), a denim jacket bound around her hips in case it’d get cold because she still didn’t know where the heck he’d be taking her and those dark brown, knee-high leather boots so that she wouldn’t be having any trouble with being a lot shorter than him and kiss him more easily-

Oh, but her mind didn’t just stop there, no. She wanted to do so much more than that.

She wanted to fucking destroy him in bed which was weird since he had been suggesting to do the same thing to her pussy ever since the day they met.

And she’d probably not even keep up with her expectations and his because it had been so fucking long. She wanted to cry.

Because she wanted him so fucking much.

Even though she was still just the tiniest bit wary of him, or more clearly, his intentions, she couldn’t believe how intense her lust for him already was.

The reason she had been able to read him like a book was because he had always been a very open one.

Told her unashamedly how much he was into her so there shouldn’t be any fears technically, but that still didn’t keep her anxiety from making her insecure, biting her lips nervously as she looked at herself in the mirror.

She hadn’t overdone it with her makeup, she wouldn’t want to seem desperate or like she gave that much of a shit or that she actually took longer to get ready than she actually did…

Nothing about that really made any sense in her head, but anyways…

There’d be thirty more minutes of waiting before she could walk out into the world and into Lance Tucker’s arms.

Fuck, she wanted to touch those arms again.

Calm your tits, Lucia.

The voice in her head chimed in and strangely it wasn’t her own. Neither was the smug grin she could see in front of her closed eyelids as she took a deep, calming breath.

Before the loud hum of a vehicle’s motor came to a halt in front of their house and pulled her out of her thoughts.

She walked over to the kitchen to spy through the window, seeing the black car from a few nights before standing across the street.

It was dark outside, but not dark enough to hide his silhouette through the windows of his car. Him, smoothing his hair back nervously and thrumming his fingers on the steering wheel.

She giggled when she saw him acting all nervous and it made her believe that it’d somehow make this whole thing easier when she wasn’t the only one fidgeting.

She decided to do a little something to mess with him, ease the tension because she wouldn’t get into the car until it had escaped at least a little.

She dialed his number into her phone. She’s had it for quite a while. Emergency purposes, considering Ana of cause.

The phone rang and she saw him reach for it from his back pocket, staring at the screen for a few seconds until he picked up.

“Hey” His voice was strangely collected, but she smiled through it anyway because she saw his reaction when he heard her voice; grinning silently into the receiver.

“Hi, Lance.”

“You miss me already, darlin’?” He tried to be so cocky and she found it adorable, knowing how excited he sounded as he was talking to her.

“I could ask you the same thing.” She retorted, biting her bottom lip to suppress another giggle “Since you’re parking in front of my house.” She saw his mouth fall open before his head whipped over to the side, searching for her until he spotted her looking at him through the kitchen window, waving at him while his cheeks grew hot.

“Fuck” He whispered and hung up, seeing her laugh and walk away so he got out of the car, straightening the white dress shirt before he crossed the street to get over to her house.

The door opened slowly.

“’M sorry, I thought you wouldn’t notice-” He began before he saw her standing in front of him in her full glory. He stopped halfway to reaching her door and held his breath as he let his gaze wander over her form, drinking it all in.

She looked so fucking stunning. The hair, the dress, the heels…

His dick twitched in those dangerously tight pants.

“I- You…” He started before she cut him off.

“You look handsome.” She smiled as she eyed him as well.

“You do. I mean, you don’t look handsome, you- you’re hot. I mean-” He stammered.

Oh my god, what’s wrong with you?

She walked closer until she closed the space between them to press a kiss to his cheek, halting his actions like she’d just pressed the shut-down-button.

She pulled away with the cutest grin, keeping her hand on the side of his neck and he hoped to god she wouldn’t feel his pulse fluttering underneath her touch.

“Let’s go?” She asked sweetly while all he could do was nod.

.

.

.

“What’re we doing here?” She asked, raising a brow as she looked out the window, eyeing the gym hall from outside.

“I forgot something earlier.” Was his only explanation as he got out of the car, getting around to open the door for her and she could almost swear that he didn’t even have to think about doing so before he’d already done it.

The word ‘Gentleman’ laid on the tip of her tongue before she thought of who she was actually with, smirking at the thought.

“Thanks.” She mumbled, getting out while she walked alongside him.

The gears in her head turned when he saw him fiddling with the keys in his hands, seemingly on edge.

Her grin only widened.

“And why exactly do you need me to come with you…?” She bugged and made him roll his eyes at her for the very first time. He knew he wasn’t kidding anyone, but admittedly, he had never done this sort of thing before.

Something with a moderate amount of thought behind it.

“Just… trust me with this, okay?” He chuckled before pushing the doors open, both of them walking through the office until he had found the light switch in the dark, illuminating part of the hall to reveal a table standing in the middle of the room’s space with two chairs pushed to each side of it and food waiting for… the two of them she realized.

She bit her lip as she turned around, facing his boyish grin when he looked down at her. He seemed so proud of it, she couldn’t hold in her giggle.

“I’m not even sure what I’m supposed to say right now. This is awesome.” She admitted as she walked into the gym, her heels echoing off the high walls and ceiling.

“Right?” He asked excitedly “I fuckin’ aced this.” He drawled and she shook her head.

“Don’t ruin the mood.” She muttered until he sneaked up behind her, pulling out the chair for her to sit on.

“And which one would that be?”

“One where you just take the freaking compliment and don’t act like you’ve invented date ideas.” She raised a challenging brow at him while he sat down across from her.

“Okay, ouch.” He pouted “How ‘bout you fix your attitude, princess?”

She inhaled a sharp breath at the sound of his pet name for her slipping past his lips.

He grinned. She glared back at him.

“How ‘bout you do it for me?”

The risky question had shot out of her before she had even had time to think about it, making her eyes go wide with realization a second later.

He looked equally stunned before he let out a disbelieving laugh.

“Deal, sweetcheeks.” He chuckled darkly, winking at her as he opened two beer bottles.

“But for that you’re gonna have to take me out for a drink first.” He said sarcastically, raising his own bottle.

She scoffed and clinked their glasses together.

“Oh, so this is what then exactly?” She retorted, raising the bottleneck to her smiling lips.

He leaned back in his chair, the cockiness never having left him.

“This is me enjoying the view, darlin’.” He replied before taking a few big gulps, his head leaning back slightly, still maintaining eye contact as he grinned.

“You’re such a pain in my ass, you know that?” And the second she realized it could also have a very different meaning, seeing him inhaling to comment on what she’d just said she blurted out “Don’t even, Tucker. I swear to god- “

To which he only suppressed a laugh and shook his head in embarrassment as if to correct himself or rather his naughty thoughts being the first ones to fill his head.

“Realized it the second you said it.” He chuckled, making a motion as if to zip his mouth shut.

“Seriously, don’t mess this up.” She began, fidgeting in her seat as she was desperately trying to get the rest of the words out.

“I’m really glad I’m here.” She admitted, biting the inside of her cheek as she awaited his reaction and his cocky smirk changed into something softer- something she had only ever seen a few, rare times since she’s met him. Only ever when he was with her.

“Me too.” He smiled brightly and it made her loosen up, smiling back and moving her hair behind her ears.

“So…” She started “What’s on the menu?”

He laughed.

“Only the best pizza in town.” He chuckled, opening the cardboard box to reveal the pepperoni pizza that was laying in front of them.

“Classic. Beer and pizza.” She chuckled.

“If it’s not from Stefano’s I’m going to be very disappointed.” She sighed, smelling the still-warm food.

He scrunched his face up as he looked back at her.

“Girl… the best one’s from that pizzeria down the street.” He stated, making her scoff.

“And I thought you could be trusted when it came to food.” She gasped.

“I’ll make you a deal” He smirked “You don’t like it, we go straight to Stefano’s right the fuck now.” He raised a challenging eyebrow at her.

“Fine” She pursed her lips before taking a slice and taking a bite, chewing for a moment before shrugging.

“Meh.”

Lance almost jumped out of his chair outraged, hand gesturing wildly.

“Wh- What’s that ‘meh’? Do you not have any taste buds, woman?” He protested, making her grin as she continued eating. Making him the one lashing out once in a while was fun. She did that while chewing on the piece.

He only realized she was still eating when he was halfway through his clamoring. His mouth fell shut.

“You like it?” He asked, perhaps a little annoyed.

She nodded “It’s good.” She giggled with a full mouth, making him huff.

“But not as good as Stefano’s.” She shrugged after having taken another bite, making him let out a chuckle.

“You’ve gotta be kidding me.” He muttered as he took a bite out of a slice.

She smiled as she looked at him and perhaps it was a little bit of everything;

The dinner itself in the gym where they first met, the fact that he’d brought pizza and beer instead of steak and wine, the way he looked in that white shirt and how they could joke around and tease each other without making it awkward…

But in that moment she realized that she really liked Lance Tucker.

And that realization didn’t make her shudder like it would’ve a month ago. No.

It rather filled her stomach with an indescribable warmth.

“Hey, uhm…” She began, the two of them already having finished two slices each as she wiped her fingers on the napkin lying next to her.

“I just wanna say that-” She started but as soon as she’d begun to make her confession, he’d shushed her, looking somewhere behind her with eyes wide open and terrified.

“What?” She stopped, turning her head to look over her shoulder.

The light in the room behind the back entrance had switched on, yet she couldn’t see anyone there, assuming that maybe it had been on the entire time.

“Lance?” She turned back to him in confusion, but before she could say anything else he had stood up and grabbed her hand, pulling her from her chair in surprise and walking them both across the gym.

“Hey!” She whined as they stopped in front of the storage room, fiddling with his keys.

“I’m not proud to say this” He began, pushing the door open before pushing her inside, following her into the darkness.

“But we gotta hide.”

“What?” She hissed loudly, the door clicking shut and her eyes took a few seconds to adjust to the little light that shone in through the small window, fresh air pouring into the room along with the brightness from the street lantern, illuminating them just enough to keep them from bumping into the utensils, ladders and shelves.

“I’m so sorry, god-” He muttered, taking her hand into his and stepping between two shelves which sheltered them and prevented anyone who entered the room from seeing the two of them.

“It’s security outside, but the new guy who doesn’t know me and would think we’re here illegally and call the cops on us, it’s- “

He huffed, running a hand through his hair.

“We’re kinda…” He mumbled, looking around the small space “Not allowed to be here right now?” He tried an awkward smile but even in the almost complete darkness he could see that she wasn’t amused, rather shocked and speechless.

“Are you fucking kidding me?” She sighed, holding a hand against her forehead as she closed her eyes in annoyance.

“I wish I were.” He said before a small laugh burst out of him.

“Don’t fucking lie to me Tucker, I swear if-” She started, just as confused as she was frustrated but she couldn’t let out any more of her anger on him before he had pressed a hand against her mouth to shut her up, moving her back against the shelf as his eyes were trained on the door and the light that was pouring in from underneath it, seeing the shadow of the security guys’ feet moving closer until he had stopped right in front of it.

Lucy’s breath came quick and hotly against his hand, staring up at him with big eyes as his gaze was so focused, brows knitting together while his shoulders tensed up.

She barely noticed the sound of the man rattling the door handle from outside to prove that it was truly locked, the pulse of her core thrumming through her entire body, deafening any potential noise that could distract her from looking away from his gorgeous face.

God, he was so fucking hot. And he cared. For her not to get caught, turning his broad back instinctively to shield her from anyone who might waltz through the door and ruin the scenery she was already making out inside her head.

He cared for his little sister. She had never witnessed any man as concerned for her as he had been that night a few days back, clutching the steering wheel as he had raced through the city, risking to lose his license and sanity to get Ana to the hospital and make her feel well again. Even brought her flowers.

Those damn flowers.

She regretted not having put them up in her own room from the beginning, enjoying their smell and let them take her back to better times back when she lived outside the city without all its smog and garbage.

Fuck, she wanted him.

She wanted him so bad.

“I think he’s gone-” He whispered, his gaze softening before he looked down at her, seeing her already dark eyes glinting somehow mischievously, but not smugly like she was about to throw a snarky comment at his head- more like desperately because there was so much lust pooling behind those eyes the sight of it made him forget what he was about to say, looking at her with such wonder and also puzzlement he couldn’t think of anything else but her.

“I, uhm…” He breathed, voice faltering and only then did he realize how closely they were actually pressed together. Against each other.

His hands were resting to each side of her head, having shielded her body with his own somewhat automatically and if he hadn’t lost his ability to speak before, he surely did as she wrapped her arms around his neck and pulled him down to meet his lips with hers.

His eyes shot wide open, seeing the slight furrow in her brow as she kissed him deeply, her hands holding the sides of his neck while he could only stand there like an imbecile, his brain not quite yet registering and catching up with the information of what the fuck had just happened- was still happening.

But once her hand went into his hair, tangling her fingers through the gel-stiffened strands to make it softer and easier to hold onto, his eyes fell close in an instant, stiff body loosening and sinking into her embrace as his arms immediately wound around her to pull her even closer. There was no way he was gonna fuck something up he’d been waiting to do since the minute he first saw her.

A small moan left her lips when his palm pressed into the small of her back urgently, driving her closer to him and making her arch her back as she opened her mouth for him- his tongue already having slid across her bottom lip to grant him access and so she did with just as much fervor.

Of cause he was battling for dominance, how could he not, but she had no desire to deny him that when he was just so- so- good at it.

You wouldn’t regret a night with me, babe.

His words had floated in her head ever since he’d said them out loud and in that moment, with his hands feeling over the fabric of her dress, moving lower to grab a handful of her ass and making him groan at the feel of it, she suddenly couldn’t wait to make those words come true fast enough.

She jumped up when his hands held onto the backs of her thighs, wrapping her legs around his waist and feeling her calves against his ass which was driving itself forward to rub his denim-clad erection against her dripping core.

His hands just couldn’t stop exploring.

Feeling the swell of her hips and ass underneath his touch was fucking amazing.

But what made his cock really twitch in his pants was running his fingers along her neck, grazing the pulse point to make her inhale a sharp breath before he’d bury them in her hair to tilt her head back and attack her throat with sucks and bites, nibbling and kissing until he’d reached her collarbone, already having her writhing and gasping in his arms.

“Lance…” She moaned and his pelvis involuntarily thrust forward at hearing his name fall from her plump lips so beautifully, his clothed cock rubbing against the thin layer of her panties which were separating him from driving himself inside her.

Her back was bumping into parts of the shelves’ metal behind her, making them rattle and shake until packages were raining down on them, landing on the ground with a dull sound.

Lucy pulled back long enough to break their kiss and gasp for air, making him listen to her as he was trying to catch his breath.

“You wanna… uhm-” He started, stealing her words. She grinned happily before she simply had to interrupt him.

“Your place or mine?”

*

*

*

Taglist: @culturespark

[fjordhavemercy]

Honey

The before-space, a grand cosmic joke, and flies.

Finally able to share my Critmas piece for Leechbrain on ao3, who asked for Fjord/Molly something something mutual pining with no angst or unresolved sexual tension... I can’t say their sexual tension gets resolved here but nor is it for any reason other than they’ll get there when they get there... In any case, here it is, featuring my personal headcanons/theories about Fjord’s characterization. I’m not sure when or if this fits into the timeline, so just go with it. Enjoy. Read it on ao3 here.

There was this thing Vandren always said, back then: you catch more flies with honey than with vinegar. Mostly he said it in attempt to get Sabian to act less like a little shit and more like a decent fuckin human being, but sometimes he’d say it with a wink when taking Fjord to market the days they could come onshore for supplies and whatever else the crew needed to do -- get laid, get some drug, send some letters home, the like. Fjord never did those things; the orphanage wasn’t much of a home to send letters to or even a home at all, and he’d seen what drug could do to people. As for the sex -- well. Never quite felt that particular siren call, not for the kind of sirens his crewmates, Sabian included, found in the whorehouses they patronized anyway. Instead he followed Vandren to town squares or bazaars or colourful market stalls beckoning patrons to spend their gold, and watched him sweet-talk his way into cheap rum and rope and other things needed to replenish supplies, like discounted salt meat and hard tack and fruit for the ship, some unripened and tough-skinned so they wouldn’t spoil too soon and some sweet and soft with which Jefford their cook could squeeze into juice that would keep longer.

Sometimes he’d say it when two of his men got into an argument, most often about watch rotation and who was to clean out the little mess they had or some other such trivial things. Once he said it when he charmed his way out of an actual bona fide pirate encounter, which they sailed away from hail and hearty, just a few dozen gold short of what they had been before, a little spooked but safe. That night after they were well away from the rickety, small ship the pirates had called theirs there had been so much revelry Vandren had ordered an unplanned stop at the nearest port, on account of how much food and drink they'd had, their astonishment at being unharmed by the raiders turning into cockiness leading their celebrations until the sun rose over the horizon of the Lucidian. He'd caught them all during that night too, with stories he told, voice honeysweet and low in the greying light of the moons near dawn when only a few were still left awake: stories of storms he'd passed through and strange men and women he'd met in his life and monsters he'd seen under the sea.

He was like that, Vandren: not particularly handsome nor even very nice but charming as all get out, you know. And Fjord tried to learn from him, did his best to listen to his every word, and to emulate him -- still did, when he admit it to himself. Of course he did, how could he not? This man who had taken him in, he and Sabian, who had given him a job and a real home, if that’s what it was, and a purpose, no matter how small that purpose was in the grander scheme of all things.

“Sabian,” said Molly. “Sounds like an interesting character.”

Oh. He’d been rambling, talking about things Molly almost certainly didn’t care about. Vandren, Sabian. Honey, vinegar. Fjord shut his mouth and winced when a pain shot through his lip where his little but growing tusks hit. He wasn’t used to them quite yet.

“Nah,” Fjord said, after a few minutes. “He wasn’t.”

They were sitting by the light of their campfire deep in some wood none of them knew the name of, but the trees were old, towering, and occasionally, Fjord felt, watchful. The fire was a risk Jester insisted on taking that night as she said she could not feel her toes anymore, which was a lot coming from her, on account of the fact that she never usually felt much cold, even when it was chilly enough that Caleb, who’d grown in the north and was used to lower temperatures, shivered at night. Not like they had anyone pursuing them who would find them by firelight at the moment -- at least, no one they knew of. It was just that as a group they tended to attract attention, and none of them, save Molly and perhaps Jester in the right circumstances, liked attention much.

Everyone else was sleeping, but near them out in the open, because of the warmth of the flames; they hadn’t gotten a tent yet, but they probably needed to get one or two soon, as it was nearing Winter in Wildemount and if they kept travelling like this, doing odd jobs for the Gentleman here and there, they’d need them. When Fjord had mentioned this Yasha had snorted as Fjord guessed she'd keep on sleeping outside if she had the choice and Jester had squealed and Beau had said something strange about marking it off as a business expense, which didn’t sound like anything she’d know about nor something the Gentleman would approve of, so Fjord ignored it.

“Tell me,” Molly said.

“Didn’t think you cared much about things of the past,” said Fjord. Not far to his left Nott was muttering in her sleep, her flask lying just out of reach of her claws where she’d dropped it as she dozed off. It glinted in the fire -- no moonlight reached through the thick cover of trees here in the little clearing they’d found.

“Not my past,” Molly said. With the flames reflecting in the red of his eyes they seemed demonic, and yet he had laugh-lines around them as he smiled. “But yours I wouldn’t mind hearing about.”

“He was just -- a kid, you know, we both were, and then Vandren took us --”

“Took you,” repeated Molly, a request for clarification.

“Not like, took us took us, but he -- well, once we turned 18 we were too old for the orphanage, you know. We were the oldest there by a few years, so we fell in together a lot, I guess, even though -- well, I was a little older than him so for a few months I just wandered around doin odd jobs on the docks in town, right, unloadin catch and haulin equipment and guardin cargo, stuff like that. Eventually one night there was a fight at one of the taverns along the docks I was workin at and who gets thrown out but Sabian, and he just hung around me for a while, moochin and stirrin shit up more like --”

“Where did you live?” Molly asked. He had somehow gotten closer, and his hair shone red-violet, the silhouette of his jaw sharp.

“Like, a halfway house kind of place. A bedsit, you could say. Cheap, you know. I could hear mice crawlin in the walls, it was -- well. Whatever. Sabian ended up stayin with me because neither of us had nowhere to go, and then --”

“Then what?”

“After a few weeks of that I was sick of it and told Sabian I needed him to find a way to make some money or get out, 'cause I was done payin for his booze and shit. He'd just been sittin on his ass in different taverns, usually, gettin into more fights and gamblin too. He’s the one who found Vandren after that. Offered us a job on the ship and then another and another until we were just -- that was it, you know. For us. I thought so, anyway. For -- for near on fifteen years. And then -- well, you know the rest.”

“Some of it.”

Fjord stupidly felt like he could never make it up to Sabian this, nor forgive him for it. If it hadn’t been for that -- well. He didn’t know where he’d be or what he’d be doing. He didn’t much care for gods but that first job for Vandren, that night he let his temper get the best of him and told Sabian to do something with himself… if that wasn’t fate, or destiny, or some god’s idea of a grand cosmic joke, he’d eat his sword.

Molly’s tiefling-hot breath, even at this proximity to the fire, was visible in the night air. Heat met cold -- and honey, flies. Though truthfully Fjord didn’t know who was who, in this scenario, or whether it even mattered in this before-space they’d been slowly working up to since they began travelling together, the inhale before the exhale, the moment before release. It was beautiful here: careful glances, quiet words, soft touches, in between talks of strategy, looks of understanding whenever the others did something particularly ridiculous, and awkward conversation before bed when they roomed together. He could live in the before-space forever, he reckoned, if he wasn’t so convinced that Molly’s impatience would eventually force them to the resolution they could both see coming. In fact, that Molly was waiting and going against the very nature of everything he was or at least seemed to be was something of a shock -- and whether it was in deference to Fjord’s glaring cautiousness or whether, for once, Molly wanted to enjoy the build-up as much as the pay-off, it was hard to tell. For someone with the impulse control of a two-year-old and the urges of an adult along with all the liberties being one afforded, his restraint was, frankly, impressive.

In any case, Fjord wasn’t one to rush anything, and he liked how Molly looked at him, unsure of something for once in his short life, so he leaned back out of Molly’s space, satisfied.

“Sorry for bendin your ear with my stories,” Fjord said, as if Molly wasn't the grandest storyteller he knew, and watched a sharp huff of breath escape as Molly laughed quietly.

“Don’t worry about it,” said Molly. “I never do.”

“We should wake Beau and Nott,” Fjord said. He stood up and Molly’s eyes took their time tracing his movement. “They’ve got next watch.”

“Right. Of course. Do you want to -- I’ll just -- right.”

It was strange to see Molly flustered but Fjord was all the more pleased -- the situation was almost always reversed with Molly in control but for once Fjord wasn’t put on his back foot. Molly, of course, usually enjoyed making a spectacle of himself and knew the effect it had on Fjord when he did, which Fjord suspected was done on purpose. But this time, somehow, during his long-winded nostalgia that could not even be considered even the clumsiest of flirting, he had gotten Molly's attention. He reached a hand out to help Molly up -- the fingers he grasped were hot, from the fire and most likely from their general state of being, but not sweaty, and they held tight.

However satisfied he was, he felt like playing a little more, emboldened, perhaps, by the things he’d allowed himself to share tonight, and the feeling of those fingers on his.

“Put your bedroll next to mine,” he said, and Molly’s eyes narrowed, glimmering in the firelight. “I’m not so good against the cold like you are. You might have to warm me up.”

Fjord turned to go wake the next two to take watch, and left Molly to blink at his retreat. After all: no matter how slowly honey poured, eventually it would catch a fly.