#the bit about horizon felt kind of off-tone but i did want to include it bc that mission fucks zofia up a lot

[invisible-storyteller]

Derek felt defeated as he reached for the phone. Dialling his number was a weekly routine that carried no less shame and feeling of incompetence than the first time around, but it was a necessary and (still) inevitable measure to be taken.

Derek didn't want to blame himself. He had tried everything on the list, including giving Eli his favourite snacks, sitting with him to watch his comfort TV show, taking him outside to get a breath of fresh air and play in the woods in hope of finding solace, and eventually, pulling out every trick there was to make his restless son fall asleep. None of it worked. Eli was back to crying or throwing tantrums within the span of ten minutes and the worst part was that Derek knew the real reason behind his son's moody behaviour.

Nowadays, nothing could give Derek the kind of relief that the sound of a familiar engine on his driveway did.

"Thank you for coming over."

The sentence was out of Derek's mouth before the man could even close the front door behind him.

"Of course, you know how much I love spending time with Eli," The sheriff smiled brightly, even though Derek had just called him out of work and the bags under his eyes had to be at least three days old. "Speaking of which, where is my little wolf?"

"Here, here!" Eli ran towards them with outstretched arms, the sheriff groaning softly as he lifted the kid and settled Eli on his hip. "Can we play hide and seek, Shiff?"

"We can if you promise not to wander off this time."

Derek winced. Eli still had to learn that not everyone could find him by smell and among all his supernatural relatives, the sheriff was an amazing teacher of the human perspective.

"Kay," Eli nodded, then rubbed his nose into the sheriff's neck to scent him. Derek's heart clenched at the display as always - still a bit surprised by how fast Eli had accepted the sheriff into their little pack.

"We'll go outside for a while. You go lie down, son." Sheriff Stilinski said, his tone resembling the firmness of a command. Derek didn't mind, though, he just gave the man a grateful nod as the pair exited the house and Derek was left alone with his thoughts for the first time that day.

He soon found himself collapsing onto his bed with ears perked to listen to the first chime of laughter from Eli. He wished he could do the same, but his body didn't want to move from his position of staring up at the ceiling blankly and Derek had to close his eyes to remember the words his therapist had been parroting for weeks, all in preparation for this day.

Let yourself feel it.

He wasn't sure how to go about doing that exactly but he figured that his old methods were as good as any. It actually took less time than he had thought to dig out his father's old leather jacket, and even spraying the room with Laura's old perfume was an easy task. It was like he was checking things off of his mental list, functioning completely on autopilot against what his therapist had suggested but at least he was getting somewhere. The next step was a phone call to Cora - you're not the only one suffering, Derek, remember that - and her chatter about pack business in Colombia was able to temporarily numb Derek's mind, even if he hung up rather quickly as soon as his sister had muttered the words 'I forgive you, you know'. Talking to Peter afterwards was even harder, but thankfully, his uncle didn't appear to be in the mood to reminisce about fond childhood memories or anything regarding the past, really. Derek did promise, though (not without heaving a heavy sigh), that he'd join his uncle on a morning run through the preserve, and that had a bit of Peter's usual smugness seeping into his voice which was still better than the hollow comfort neither of them could draw from each other.

After an hour of listening to his mother's favourite songs, Derek emerged to the sight of Eli already sound asleep and tucked into bed. The sun was setting below the horizon where the sheriff was standing at the front entrance, quietly putting on his jacket.

"Thank you." Derek wished he could say more than that.

"You know I gave you my number for a reason." The sheriff's mouth curled into a kind smile. "You just give me a call, kid, and I'll be here. Anytime."

Derek didn't know why, but he felt something crack. Maybe it was the illusion he had been chasing all day, but the older man could clearly see it on his face.

"Oh, Derek," The sheriff sighed, beckoning him with a hand, "Come here."

Derek barely noticed himself walking closer to the sheriff, and when the older man put his arms around him, he unconsciously mirrored the movement.

"I'm here." The sheriff whispered despite his obvious discomfort, and the only thing Derek could do was hold on for dear life.

And for a moment, Derek could imagine that those hands belonged to his father.

"Shhh," The sheriff gave a small rub to Derek's back and the werewolf wondered just how many times the other man had to do the exact same thing for his son. "It's okay. I got you, son."

Derek couldn't stop it. His tears started falling for the first time that day - maybe even years - and the sheriff just stood there, embracing Derek's shaking form and making him feel safer than ever since Laura's death. The sheriff waited for Derek to pull back, even if Derek himself was unsure of just how much time had passed with him silently sobbing into the older man's uniform. When Derek eventually stepped back, the sheriff's hand stayed heavily on his shoulder.

"I meant it," He said, and finally, Derek was able to return the other man's smile.

They parted ways with a nod and Derek watched the police cruiser drive away before turning off all the lights inside the house and opening the door to his son's room. He slipped under Eli's blanket without rousing the small 'wolf and let his son cuddle up to him on instinct, pulling Eli closer to his chest and letting his eyelids fall shut.

Anniversaries were always hard, but now Derek had a pack to get him through them.

[fandomwriterstuff]

Getaway Car

Another plot-filled Rick Flag fic from me! I might add another chapter if this goes over well so let me know your thoughts!

~2.2k words

Rated T

You're the Suicide Squad's getaway driver and you're got a serious crush on their commanding officer, Rick Flag.

You were what one might call a liability in the operation. You weren’t a soldier under Amanda Waller’s thumb, and you weren’t a prisoner that she could threaten. You were purely there for the thrill at first. But you kept coming back for him. Rick Flag. The commanding officer of your dreams, a real hero. You weren’t sure if you idolized him or wanted to fuck him. Maybe it was a bit of both.

But as you sat in the car and eyed up the team sprinting out of the building, you skipped to your getaway song - Brianstorm by Arctic Monkeys - and revved the engine.

“Punch it, Baby!” Harley cackled as the three prisoners (plus Rick) slammed themselves into your vehicle.

You didn’t need to be told twice.

You thought it over as you narrowly evaded enemy trucks and sped down a dirt road. You were technically working for the law, so they shouldn’t need a getaway car, but they always were getting themselves into tight spots so you supposed it made sense.

It was a few minutes of beating drums, wild guitar solos, and Harley’s cackles as the playlist continued (House of the Rising Sun by the Animals came on just as you dared to slow down). You finally looked over to your right, and raised an eyebrow.

“You doing alright, Colonel?” You took stock of the dark, wet blood covering the left side of his face and the way he was cradling his right fist.

“Never better, darlin,” he offered you a signature smirk and you gave a nod before turning back to the road. You were on a main stretch now, paved and full of other vehicles. You’d likely lost your pursuers but it was your job to get away from them, so you kept an eye on the horizon behind you.

“How you always seem to be in the right place at the right time blows my mind, kid,” Boomer huffed a relieved laugh from the backseat.

“That’s sort of my job,” you replied in kind, smirking into the rearview mirror as you pulled onto the highway that would take you straight back to Belle Reve.

“You don’t talk about your job much though, I noticed,” he pushed and you rolled your eyes. You didn’t talk about yourself, and you didn’t talk about how you got into the getaway business.

“I like to have an air of mystery,” you caught the amused smile Rick tried to hide and brushed your hair back out of your eyes.

“What I’m wonderin,” he continued as if you hadn’t spoken, his accent coming through as he leaned forward through the gap between you and Rick. “Is how a pretty young thing like you got involved with a cold hearted bitch like Amanda Waller.”

You tightened your grip on the wheel (hopefully imperceptibly), and offered a light smile over to him.

“We’ve all got a past, Boomerang Man. Mine didn’t land me in prison, but I’m still here working for you weirdos,” you laughed and signaled your exit towards the Louisiana based metahuman prison.

“I’ll get your story some day, sweet cheeks, you’ll see,” he leaned back as you showed your identification to the guard and pulled into the penitentiary.

After you let the three prisoners off at their dropoff location (like a bunch of kindergarteners going to school), you pulled up to the employee parking area.

“You sure you’re alright?” You were quieter this time, worriedly glancing over at Rick again now that you were alone.

“Don’t you go worrying about me, pretty girl,” he pulled out all the stops with the cute pet name and the thousand megawatt smile, eyes warm and inviting. You were a goner, and you immediately dropped the subject. “I’ll see you in the debrief room,” you sighed after he’d closed the door and pulled the vehicle into your spot.

Another day, another debrief with that fucking psychopath Waller.

You smoothed down your jeans and t-shirt, you might work for the (wo)man, but you weren’t about to dress like a stuck up business person, or like a prison guard. You were too young for that bullshit.

“Baby,” Amanda Waller greeted you as you passed her into the meeting room. You hid your smirk, as you always did, when you took your seat. You’d forged all of your documentation upon taking this job, knowing that you didn’t want this woman knowing anything about your personal life. She didn’t know your real name, hell, she might not even know that Baby was your pseudonym. You sort of felt bad that you hadn’t ever told Rick your name, but you couldn’t risk it.

The debrief was a mess. You’d gotten out with the information the team went in for, but two out of the four of them were injured. Including the Colonel.

“Seems like the only person doing their job here is the fucking chauffer,” Waller spat before turning her eyes on a still-bloodied Rick Flag. “You can do better than this,” she spoke quietly before walking out. The others emptied out, leaving you leaning back in your chair, cotton candy pink Barbie™ t-shirt nearly glowing in the fluorescent lighting.

“I think you’re going to give her an aneurysm. She doesn’t know your identity and you don’t follow the dress code,” Rick had his eyes closed at the end of the long table, but he somehow knew you were alone in there together. You bit your lip. So she knew ‘Baby’ was a pseudonym. Good to know.

“She can’t get rid of me, she needs me,” you shrugged, nonchalant, but this was the wrong answer and you knew it immediately. You’d been working with Rick long enough to see the telltale signs of stress. Tightened shoulders, biceps bulging in his uniform, that vein struggling at his throat.

“You should be out there living your life, Baby,” his eyes shot open, darker than you’d ever seen them. “You shouldn’t be working yourself to death for Amanda Waller. Not like me and these guys. You don’t have a reason to be here,” you looked down, picking at the skull ring on your middle finger. You did have a reason. You were addicted to the feeling of being near Rick. You were obsessed with the way he spoke to you, the way he leaned in close when he was joking around with you, the way his eyes lit up when you made him laugh.

“I’m not about to tell you my life story in an audio and visually recorded meeting room,” you finally spoke, tone harsher than you intended. You stood, turned away from him and towards the door, your voice carrying as you exited. “You’re gonna have to buy me a drink if you want to get anything out of me.”

You didn’t look back to see the slack-jawed look on his face as you sauntered out of the debrief room.

You were in the deep swamp lands of Central Florida this time. Not your favorite place to be. You were blasting the air conditioning in the car as Stick Up by grandson blasted through the car stereo, your favorite angry song to listen to. This wasn’t a job you wanted to be on, but you had a contract and you were making money, and you got to work with Rick again, so it was alright. But it was a new team. Harley was out of jail and Boomer was injured from a prison fight. They were the two people you normally worked with other than Rick.

You had a gut feeling that something was going to go down, but you didn’t know what.

“Start the car!” one of the new members shouted and you frowned. The car was on already. But whatever, you shifted into Drive and waited for Rick and Co. to make it to the car. Only it was just the one guy. He hopped into the backseat and stared at you with wide eyes.

“What are you doing, get us out of here!” He was shouting but you aggressively put the car into Park.

“Where’s Rick? Where’s the rest of the team?”

“Dude, get us out of here!” The man was clearly panicking, and you glanced over at the building the team were supposed to infiltrate, biting your lip.

“Baby, why aren’t you moving?” Waller asked in your ear.

“It’s just the circus freak dude, no Rick, and no team members,” you replied calmly. “What are my orders?”

“Get us out!” The circus freak dude in question (you didn’t bother to ask his name), was bemoaning your existence from the backseat and you snapped. You jerked the center console open and pulled out your gun, pointing it back at him.

“Shut your mouth, or I’ll shut you up myself,” you put all of your fear, rage, and contempt into your glare, staring down the psycho prisoner just enough to put the fear of a woman into him, and he backed down.

“Colonel Flag is alive in there, but he’s the last one. Get in there, pick him up, and get out,” you grinned, shark-like at Waller’s voice. You could do that. You revved the engine, put the car into Drive, and hauled ass towards the building. You tuned out the moaning and wailing from the backseat and flicked the switch that activated your enhanced shields. With that in place, you drove straight towards the brick building at full speed. You could do this. You could do this. You hyped yourself up and didn’t flinch when the car made impact with the wall, immediately breaking through and skidding into a large open room. You looked around, assessing the group of men with guns pointing towards a closed door. Rick must be in there. You flipped another switch, this one with a gun sticker above it, and pulled at the steering wheel to aim the guns that came out of the front of the car. When all of the men finally turned towards you, you opened fire on them.

You’d killed for Waller before, usually by hitting people with the car, and while this was thrilling, you’d never had to actually use a gun on someone before. When they were all down, you pulled the car up, trying to ignore the crunching of bodies under the tires and opened the passenger side window.

“Get in the fucking car, Flag,” you screeched, and the door creaked the tiniest bit open. Rick peeked his head out, looked around for a hot second before locking eyes with you, and walked over before putting his ass in the passenger seat.

“I didn’t know the car had a gun in it,” he muttered, scratching at the back of his neck.

“Oh she has several,” the circus dude piped up from the back, and Rick side eyed you before promptly yelling at the other for leaving him behind. You took that as your cue to get the fuck out of there.

“You haven’t said anything in two hours,” Rick finally said as you entered Louisiana. He’d been on the phone with Waller for a while and then writing his debrief up on his phone.

“I’ve never shot anyone before. It’s a tad stressful,” you didn’t let on how nerve-wracking it had been to think you’d lost him, but you especially didn’t let on how freaked out you were about opening fire on a group of over a dozen men. You shrugged and kept your eyes on the road. He nodded in understanding. You didn’t want to talk about it. You appreciated his silence. When you finally dropped the circus dude off you had about six minutes before making it back to Rick’s dropoff.

“Baby?” He asked as you slowed down for a stop sign. You hummed in question, but he put his hand over yours, and you kept your foot on the brake as he shifted the car into park. You looked over at him, a frown on your face until he reached out and cupped your jaw with one calloused palm. His thumb brushed over your bottom lip and it felt like time wasn’t passing anymore.

“Thank you for coming back for me,” he murmured, and damn you thought he might kiss you. He didn’t, though. He tucked a stray piece of hand behind your ear, the feel of his fingertips caressing your neck made you shiver, and he smirked at the sight. It suddenly dawned on you.

He knew exactly what he did to you. He knew exactly how he was making you feel. That turned you the fuck on. He was teasing you.

“I think I’d like to take you out for that drink tonight, darlin. Maybe you’ll give me a good story. Maybe I’ll finally get your name,” he was so close to you, and god but you wanted to kiss him. But as you leaned in, he leaned back with a growing grin.

“Who knows, maybe you’ll get what you want, too,” he whispered before sitting back in his seat. “I’ll grab you after the debrief,” and that was him dismissing your advances until a later time. So, you put the car into Drive and pulled up to his drop off location. Luckily it had taken all day to get back to Belle Reve, so you’d only have to wait for the debrief to be over and it would be around eight at night. You’d finally get a drink with Rick tonight. You smiled to yourself as you pulled the car into your spot. Things would be changing.

[anika-ann]

My Timid Hello, My Clumsy Goodbye (S.R.)

Type: one-shot, canon semi-compliant?

Pairing: Steve Rogers x Barton!reader    Word count: 8900 (...sorry)

Summary: You’re spending the evening and the night before your wedding with the two most important men of your life.

When the sun rises again, you’ll say your ‘I do’ in a close circle of friends and family. It’s not a goodbye to your old life and it’s not a hello to some enormous change; but you will no longer be a Barton. You will be a Rogers. Why not reminisce a bit? 

Warnings: mention of an abandoned baby, blood and injuries, alcohol, implied possibly rougher sex (nothing graphic) ...mature?, language, so much sappiness... let me know if I missed any

A/N: For what-is-your-backupplan-today 10th anniversary of CA:TFA challenge. Prompts in bold. Thank you for coming up with this wonderful theme and hosting this challenge! Long live CA:TFA!

A/N: Throughout the fic, you’ll find snippets of lyrics from SYML’s "Everything All At Once”. Honestly, the song has a completely different meaning to me, but tearing it out of context works for this story just fine :) When you’re done reading, I recommend the music video. It friggin’ broke me in the worst and best ways. Enjoy!

This is my hello This is my clumsy goodbye I'm putting my glass down I wanna remember tonight

Tony rented an island for you. Clint nearly passed out learning about it and grumbled for days about having a hard time to top that, which, no arguing, was understandable.

It was an incredibly extravagant thing to do, throwing around money that could have been used for a much more honourable cause, but you couldn’t complain. One should not look a gifted horse into mouth – and so you didn’t.

Because Tony Stark renting an island was his premature wedding gift. The fact that your brother bitched about not being able to top that, well, that was his problem. You were certain that deep down, he knew you didn’t need any fancy gifts like that.

Then again, Tony’s gift might have been epically overpriced, but not exactly unthoughtful; along with a private island came a private jet and you being literally flied under radar so no single paparazzi knew where you and America’s golden boy Steve Rogers would seal the deal with your ‘I do.’ So, you were everything but ungrateful to your friend that he succeeded at pulling off such covert operation; and frankly, this place was nothing short of wonderful.

The golden sand was pleasantly warm under your toes as you as you and Clint walked towards the two single beach chairs facing the ocean. Wearing bikini under the baggy t-shirt and a pair of shorts, sunglasses on top of your head, because why would you deprive yourself the gorgeous view of the sun beginning to set down, you followed your brother – not in blood but in every other sense – to the seats, allured by the view, the serenity and the cold sixpack in his hand.

You had already had a traditional bachelorette party with your girls – with the team, with your family. Natasha, Wanda, Pepper, Sharon and Maria. The night had been the perfect blend of what was considered typically feminine, dress up, fanciness and wine and gossip, and a fun night out with shots, dancing, karaoke and pool. That particular night sadly was interrupted shortly by an annoying photographer, but he soon understood it was not very clever to annoy three and a half Avengers or the CEO of Stark Industries for that matter.

Clint however… Clint deserved a special evening with you. With the rest of the team in various state of chilling out, scattered around the luxurious small houses and gorgeous beaches, you two were left the privacy such moment required.

Even if the special moment consisted of simple talking and drinking beer while watching the sun set, a symbolic end of one phase of your life – a phase that was undeniably tied to the famous and yet barely known archer, one of the seven defenders who rushed into the Battle of New York to save the Earth.

One of the seven had been your brother, having previously been controlled by the monster who brought an army from outer space; there was no questioning whether you would join the fight or not, no matter how you preferred the latter part of your field medic job title to the former.

Another of these brave people, as it turned out, was your future husband. A man you had met for the first time that day, but whom you didn’t hesitate to push back down when he got hit by a freaking alien weapon and stood up, wanting to shake it off as if it was nothing. Your medical training told you not to let him; and your stubbornness had been just a touch stronger than his that day.

Apparently, Steve found you always standing your ground to be one of your most endearing qualities.

What a fancy way to express it instead of simply calling you a stubborn pain in his ass.

“You’re lost in your head, Twinkie,” Clint hummed, playfully nudging your ribs with an elbow, bringing you back to the present.

Your nose automatically scrunched at the childhood nickname.

“You gotta stop calling me that, Bobo,” you retorted, a grin spreading on your face as it was his turn to grimace.

You knew it was nothing but an act and that he in fact loved that nickname, because it held so much sentiment, so many memories… as did his endearment for you.

Bobo had been your first word or so Clint always claimed. Obviously, you wouldn’t remember.

You wouldn’t remember your parents, having been only two days old when your mother left you with a damn circus which was in your hometown at the time. You couldn’t recall how you wouldn’t stop crying until you heard a seven-year-old Clint humming a lullaby for you, with silly replacements of lyrics that always made you laugh later on when you could understand them.

How he started calling you Twinkie, because he was a sugar addict and apparently, you were sweet and small and he liked you; so much that he soon appointed himself to be your brother, your bro, your Bobo.

Once you were older and learned that your involuntary nickname for him also meant ‘crazy’ in Spanish, you were sold to that Bobo endearment forever.

Including the night before your wedding.

“You keep zoning out on me, Kid. Getting cold feet?” Clint hummed, casually handing you a can of beer, opening it up for you.

You automatically reached out and took a sip, eyes fixed on the warm colour on the horizon. What a ridiculous question… but kind and caring, with a hidden promise of getting you out of here if you just asked. Your amazing, protective, crazy brother.

You couldn’t but smile widely, glancing at him from the corner of your eye.

“You offering to kidnap the bride, Clint? I’d like to see you try. You were always better at trapeze than at being an escape artist.”

Clint scoffed. “Please. These are amateurs. I bet I could pull it off.”  

That drew a laugh from you.

“Are you calling the Avengers amateurs? Better yet, are you calling your wife an amateur?” you teased him, watching his face lose colour when he realized that he did exactly that. You leaned over and patted his thigh. “Don’t worry, Bobo. I won’t tell Nat.”

Clint visibly relaxed, but a shadow of worry twisting his expression.

“Seriously though. Where’s your head at, Kid?”

You just shrugged, smile resting on your lips as you wondered if you ever felt so relaxed. It went along well with the reminiscing of the past and despite the fact that tomorrow was a big day and you should probably be nervous, you weren’t. Not in the slightest, more like the opposite. You were giddy even; it dawned to you that nothing in your life had ever felt so right.

No moment in your life offered you such serenity to your heart, your shoulders free of any weight, body light as air.

“Just taking a trip down the memory lane. Thinking about how lucky I was to be dropped at your circus of all circuses of the world,” you grinned at Clint, your tone remaining completely serious.

Because you were being serious – words couldn’t express how grateful for everything that led to this moment you were. How grateful you were to your brother for watching over you, making sure you would always see the light of a new day, guiding you when you found yourself in a dark.

Clint didn’t react beside his fingers twitching and you knew he was giving you the chance to say what you needed to say.

“About how you taught me pretty much everything I know. About how while I might not be the best person in the world, my brother, who is the best brother ever, made me into a decent person and I owe him everything I am. And how I should probably feel guilty for tying myself to another guy who just swept in and whisked away your little sister.”

Clint stared at you, gulping as his eyes gradually filled with tears. You found yourself in a very cheesy moment, bordering on absurd and it was almost too much to handle – but Clint took a deep breath, cleared his throat and swallowed his tears.

“Well, that bastard did steal my greatest life achievement with way too little effort,” he remarked, voice cracking slightly, the image of him causing your eyes to burn as well even if his words made you both tear up and burst out laughing.

“Dammit, Clint, stop making me laugh and cry at the same time…”

“You started it!” he pointed his index finger at you accusingly, taking a large sip of his beer to drown his sentiment. “But for the record, you should not feel guilty. It’s not like you’re leaving me.”

“I know, but-“

“And if you were, you’d be leaving me in good hands.”

“That’s true, Natasha does have a grip on you and might keep you outta trouble-“

“She’s the one who gets me into trouble half of the time!” Clint cried out in protest and you would have argued if it wasn’t the truth.

But before he had met her, Clint was able to make up his own trouble just fine – he was more than half of a reason why while doing a bit of trapeze yourself, you also grew interested in medical care. Because who else than the little sister should treat her big brother’s wounds when he got too crazy?

“In all seriousness, I’m proud of you, Twinkie,” he said sincerely, one corner of his lips raised in a lopsided smile. “You’re entirely entitled to have your own life and if there’s one guy in this whole damn world I’m willing to trust to have you… well, I guess it’s that big blond dumbass.”

“He can be a bit dumb of ass occasionally, can’t he?” you mused lovingly. “I guess it’s right what they say… we do pick our partners similar to our parents, maybe not only in looks. I didn’t really have a dad, I had you, so…”

Clint sighed, smile widening, before it slipped from his face as he caught up on the not-so-hidden insult.

“Hey!”

You couldn’t but laugh at his shocked expression, accidently spilling a splosh of beer on the sand.

“Just… maybe make sure that even married, you still find time to hang out with your big dumb of ass brother every once in a while?” Clint suggested, sounding surprisingly vulnerable.

Your whole demander softened, a little pang of guilt stinging in your heart as he took your words too seriously – and at his worry.

“Clint… I will always find time for my amazing brother.”

“Well, you’re marrying a pretty amazing guy too, so, you know, I understand the dilemma…”

You snorted when he seemed to genuinely fawn over your future husband, shaking your head before downing the rest of your drink.

“As amazing as Steve might be – and gosh, he is, don’t get me started – you still own a pretty big chunk of my heart.”

“Good. You are a Barton at heart,” Clint hummed, pretending that a few tears didn’t roll down his cheeks, leaning towards you as his expression once again grew serious.

Your chest tightened. Oh no. He was gonna say something to make you cry too – as if you already weren’t at verge of crying, emotions bubbling under the surface.

“Clint-“ you warned him silently, but he spoke up anyway and you gulped, bracing yourself.

“Just… whatever happens tomorrow, you must promise me one thing. That you will stay who you are. Not a perfect housewife, but a good woman.”

That was not what you were prepared for, as touching as the sentiment was.

You burst out laughing, head thrown back, hands clutching at your stomach as it actually hurt with the sudden clench. Tears did spring from your eyes, a perfect blend of touched and infinitely amused at your brother’s words.

“Har, har, that’s what I get from trying to speak from heart…” Clint muttered grumpily and you willed yourself to calm your hitching breaths as you looked at him, the pout of his mouth causing you to cackle again.

“Sorry, sorry. It’s just… I am moved, I really am. Thank you. But me? A perfect housewife? And you realize I’m marrying Steve Rogers, right? The epitome of a good man? He would probably threaten to sock me in a jaw if I tried to change into something I’m not just for his sake and actually sock me in my jaw if I turned into a bad woman.”

Clint’s eyebrows jumped, a smirk appearing on his face. “That’s a lot of punching.”  

“My thoughts exactly,” you agreed, reaching for another can, pausing when a thought occurred to you. “Just so we’re clear, I might turn into a bit of a housewife when we have kids, alright? And I want to be a good wife, a good partner to Steve, which is what I’m trying to do even now.”

“I mean, yeah, sure, wouldn’t expect anything less. But… just promise me you’ll stay you and that you’ll keep giving him a run for his money, keep him on his toes a bit,” Clint shrugged with a grin, drawing another chuckle from you.

You saw his point – and you fully intended to keep Steve on his toes. You had a good reason to believe that your future husband enjoyed when you did.

“Oh Clinton… I wouldn’t have it any other way.”

He nodded contentedly, picking up another beer and raising it for a toast, his can clinking with yours.

“Cheers to that!”

A comfortable silence settled between the two of you then, a quiet joy wrapped in one moment; the sun ending its quest, the warm breeze in your hair, the waves whispering of a journey you were about to take off to. And all that with a wordless comforting presence of your family, ready to offer you a shelter if a storm rocked your boat and the wind caused you to lose course.

As your mind wandered, you had to laugh at yourself – it was almost as if you were raised by pirates and not circus performers. Perhaps it was the little bit of free cheeky spirit these life journeys had in common what brought the metaphor to your mind. It was a bit like working with the Avengers too, always on a road, adrenaline in your veins even as you mostly stayed on the jet, ready to assist them… yet here you were pondering that maybe, you were yearning for settling down a bit more.

“Cap wouldn’t punch you anyway, right?” Clint remarked, breaking the silence and you blinked yourself back into reality, taking a moment to figure out what he was talking about.

Oh. Right. Steve punching you if you changed yourself significantly for his benefit.

You smiled softly, heart swelling in affection when the answer to that question appeared obvious.

“No, he wouldn’t.”

“Good. He’d try once and I’d put an arrow straight between his eyes,” Clint promised darkly, almost causing you to choke at the sudden violent note. He quickly fixed it with a ramble, lightening the atmosphere yet again. “Minus training of course. He’s allowed to try in order to improve your hand-to-hand. Not that he would ever land a hand on you anyway. Always so soft on you…” he grinned, seemingly alright with that attitude if not slightly calling the big strong supersoldier out.

Oh you could be cheeky too alright if that was what your brother wanted.

“That you know of.”

A confused huh was the only reaction you got – that and a puzzled look.

“He’s always soft on me,” you repeated Clint’s words, turning to him, lips slowly spreading in a wicked smirk. “That you know of.”

Clint’s brows furrowed for a short moment and then his features twisted in a disgusted grimace, face growing a tint crimson.

“Gross!” he complained, more blood rushing to his cheeks. “You know what, I changed my mind. We’re leaving. You’re not marrying him. I’m kidnapping the bride and never returning her, locking her somewhere far far away-“

You snorted at his indignation, your grin undoubtedly battling the one of the Cheshire cat.

“No will do, Bobo. I’m marrying Steve and you can’t stop me.”

This time, Clint didn’t even protest, eyes misted over, nose still scrunched at the mental image, lamenting as the night slowly settled over the paradise-like island.

“Oh god, please help, I can’t unsee it, can’t unhear it--- ew-”

Your laughter was carried away by the breeze as Clint seemed to be unable to look at you.

You swung your beer around, thinking that yes – nothing quite ever felt so right as being here in this moment. Relaxing with your brother, teasing him relentlessly and counting down hours to when you’d say ‘I do’ to the only man who in your eyes ever battled the mantle of the best man in the universe.

In one unending moment You fall within my reach I'm close enough to whisper Hold on to me Hold on to me

You weren’t sure what time it was when you snuck into the beach house, one of few, which had been wisely chosen to be occupied by you and Steve only. You attempted to be quiet and liked to think you succeeded, in your even barely tipsy state, but your effort turned out to be in vain as you found Steve perched against headboard of your bed; reading a book, thin white t-shirt and sleep shorts on display as the soft sheet had been kicked away, scrunched up by his feet.

He was gorgeous – he was gorgeous and yours, a momentary picture perfect of peace, appearing to feel just as light as you did and somehow the dullness of the moment, just him relaxing in bed with a good read as you came home… it was more alluring than one would think.

Steve looked up from the book when you wavered in the doorway, soft lopsided smile spreading on his face.

God, that smile. It might be over two years since you saw it for the first time, but it could still make you weak in your knees.

And somehow, it was now even more charming now than the day you met, more tender than just before you kissed for the first time, sweeter than when he proposed.

“Hey sweetheart,” he greeted you, appreciative gaze roaming your figure and the little too much skin on display – something you regretted when the warm sunrays had bid you goodbye, raising goosebumps. And Steve, the attentive man he was, noticed, his smile earning a teasing edge. “You look a bit cold in there.”

You resisted the urge to stick your tongue out.

“And you look pretty cosy in there. Thought you’d be either asleep or with Bucky.”

Steve shrugged, not letting go of his unfinished chapter just yet, knowing you had a routine to go through before joining him.

“Maybe I missed you. Maybe Bucky is an old man and needs his sleep.”

You chuckled, not rising to the bait – you knew what would follow if you dared to say Steve was just as old. Not that you would complain about Steve trying to convince you about the opposite. You could never.

“Well, I bet he still made you a promise of breaking a bone of mine or two if I ever hurt you. He’ll find energy for that, centenarian or not,” you hummed nonchalantly as you bounced off the doorframe, heading to the bathroom and leaving Steve puzzled by your remark.

“How did you know?” he called out after you, endearingly confused.

“That’s what big brothers do, love!”

Short silence was your answer as you reached for your toothbrush and begun your nighty ritual.

Steve must have figure out what did it mean for him, considering you had a protective brother of your own, because a moment later, his half-amused “noted!” reached your ears.

You chuckled and shook your head, smile spread on your face which you didn’t think could be erased as long as you were in this paradise – free of worry, full of joy. And why wouldn’t you be? You were about to marry one of the smartest, kindest, sassiest and most beautiful men that ever walked the Earth. What was not to love?

You couldn’t but let your mind wander again; if you had only known the day you met, right from that moment, that you’d end up here…. well. It felt a little surreal, knowing that by this time tomorrow, you’d be Steve’s wife; then again, Steve’s life story was surreal enough on its own.

Who would have thought that the stubborn handsome man in the ridiculous suit and you, equally stubborn about you at least checking on the wound upon half-dragging him to a quiet corner in a middle of a battlefield, would grow so close?

It hadn’t been simple. Steve wasn’t the most open guy and while friendly enough, he wasn’t exactly offering his heart on his sleeve, not to strangers. But it hadn’t been too hard, once you were meeting on regular basis. Piece by piece he revealed his true colours and soon after he did… you started falling; hard and fast.

Not necessarily swooning, not on the outside at least; you were a professional, after all. The safety and the well-being of the team was your priority.

It was just too bad – or the best thing, you supposed – that Steve had the same goal as you with one significant difference; as far as he was concerned, the responsibility to look after his team sometimes excluded him.

Oh, was he wrong about that.

And boy, did you let him know you thought so. You still kept proving him wrong to this day and was planning on nurturing his own acknowledgement of his self-worth till your last breath…

“Get your ass in here, Steve!” you called out after him, slowly losing patience as you had tried asking politely the previous two times with no result but being dismissed.

The change of tone and language made his head snap to you from where he was talking to Sam, an offended scowl on his face.

“Excuse me?”

“You heard me, Captain. Don’t be a stubborn jerk and get your ass in here so I can clean your cuts.”

A few months ago, you wouldn’t have been able to talk to him like that; to the great legend, Captain America. At least you certainly wouldn’t have called him his first name and maybe, just maybe, you’d be a little less crass. But now? He might be Captain America still, a hero who deserved all the good things for the sacrifices he made for the world’s safety, but first and foremost, he was just Steve to you.

A colleague, a teammate, a friend. You might not be a part of the team per se, not the way Clint, Natasha or Steve were, but you still belonged. And you were all friends.

Friends irritated each other sometimes and frankly, Steve was often battling with Tony for the mantle of the most infuriating one.

Friends also needed to call each other out on their bullshit by any means necessary when the time was right and now the time was as good as any.

Usually, Steve slipped through your fingers, because he was a supersoldier and the others weren’t, so their injuries took precedence; today, it was only Natasha, Sam and Steve, and the captain was the only one whom you hadn’t checked yet. And you knew there were things to check, the trickle of blood from his eyebrow probably the least of your concerns.

“I wouldn’t argue with her, Steve. She can be pretty stubborn. Clint wouldn’t stop complaining about it,” Natasha supported you from the pilot seat and you fought yourself so you wouldn’t grin at her in victory – it would only irritated Steve further. “She’s almost as bull-headed as you are.”

At that, your smile would have slipped. But honestly, she wasn’t wrong.

“Don’t I know it,” Steve grunted, sparing Sam another glance and when the Falcon himself beckoned to you as well, wordlessly asking Steve to get himself checked up.

The captain sighed irately, but made his way back to the separate and well-lit space of your examination room.

He didn’t try to hide his annoyance – in fact, he squared his shoulders and his steps sounded a bit loud for anyone to believe it was a coincidence. Also, the scowl of exasperation never left his otherwise handsome face.

“This is completely unnecessary. A stupid waste of time,” he hissed as he walked past you and you took a deep calming breath, exchanging an eyeroll with Sam before you disappeared from sight.

“Captain. I respect you and your position, but you say one more time that my job here is unnecessary and stupid, you’ll be looking for a new medic,” you retorted as he stripped the upper part of his uniform angrily, revealing his white-tank-top-clad torso.

Well, at least the fabric used to be white – now a blood stain the size of both of your palms was seeping into the material at Steve’s right side, gushing from what definitely appeared to be a knife wound.

You were gonna murder him one of those days... unless he got killed himself first.

“Seriously?!”

“It’s just a graze-” he started to argue but you cut him off when you tore the fabric away. He winced as some of the dried blood had acted as a glue, having stuck the cloth into the wound, and now was violently ripped off.

“Tr to insinuate again that I’m incompetent at recognizing what’s just a graze, Steve. I dare you. This is a cut wide and deep enough for stitches! Haven’t you had the serum, you could have been bleeding out to death on this table!”

“But I do have it-“

“Or for fuck’s SAKE, stop being a baby and let me treat the bloody gash in your right mesogastric area! The serum accelerates your healing, but it doesn’t make you invincible OR immortal as far as I know--- Jesus fucking Christ-!”

He bristled, taking a deep breath to fight back, but he never got the chance, because you started working and the words died in his throat. Surprisingly, inspecting the damage, poking around a knife wound that might have already begin to seal itself thanks to Erskine’s formula but had not been just a graze hurt and coincidentally, it pulled the rug from under his feet.

To his credit, Steve barely even hissed at the pain.

“Just so you know, I’ll be using the disinfection that stings worse,” you noted, voice dripping venom, because you were genuinely done with Steve’s bullshit.

You lied through your teeth though. You wouldn’t. No matter how infuriating Steve was and how difficult he made your life – causing you to fall for his stupid martyr ass and pine after him among other things – you would never purposely hurt him.

And he must have sensed that, because your remark didn’t earn you a murderous glare or a retort – much to your surprise.

In fact, Steve fell entirely quiet, watching you work without protest, not even objecting when you applied enough local anaesthetic to knock out an elephant and sewed the tissue together so it healed easier. He let you inspect the rest of his torso and bandage his ribs, vigorously shaking his head when you asked him if he was injured anywhere below the waist.

He observed you as you kept an eye on his face for any minute sign of pain he’d be hiding, but all you could see were his irises, startlingly bright blue, pools of honesty and something you had trouble decoding. He seemed… humbled almost. It silenced the anger inside you, the flames of rage – and fear for his well-being, if you were being honest with yourself – turning into a barely smouldering pile of ash.

When you moved on to his head, gently pushing away the strands which obscured the gash on his eyebrow, his eyelids slid shut. You knew how unpleasant facial injuries were, especially around one’s eyes and so you took care to be extra careful as you cleaned the wound and the area surrounding it, most definitely not using the stingy disinfectant.

Not that Steve could get an infection as far as you knew. It was more force of a habit than anything else… and it made you feel better. He had this idiotic mask of an invincible hero he put up sometimes and it drove you insane, because you knew he was only human, a beautiful kind soul, but god, could he be an ass.

“Almost done,” you whispered soothingly when you noticed his jaw tightening as you had to apply a bit more pressure to get a tiny piece of gravel from the cut. You certainly didn’t want that to stay under the newly healing skin.

The moment you retreated with the bloody gauze, Steve’s eyes were back on you, wide and regretful.

“I’m sorry,” he offered quietly, a genuine apology that sounded almost absurd after you two were hissing at each other like damn hellcats. “I didn’t mean to--- I’m sorry for being rude and ungrateful. Thank you for taking care of my injuries.”

One glance into those deep irises and benign hesitant smile and you were done for. How could you stay mad at him? Well, you were still mad at him for the absolute disregard of his own health, but… well. You also understood he felt like he needed to stay strong for the team and put them first and how he actually was in pain.

Pretty much everyone was a pain in the ass when in pain.

You sighed as you searched for few band-aid strips to cover the cut.  

“It’s alright, Steve. I’m used to old men being grumpy and not meaning things they say when they are,” you offered lightly and he hung his head with a chuckle, clearly not taking the old man remark personally – and understanding you were referring to your brother.

His smile was wider when he looked up again. “You shouldn’t have to be used to it.”

You shrugged, carefully slipping two fingers under his chin to angle his face so you could stick the strips over the wound.

“Well, I deserve it sometimes. I don’t mean to… to be overbearing and make you feel like you’re incompetent or something,” you added hesitantly, worrying your teeth over your lower lip as the tone you’d been handling him with caught up with you. Perhaps you could have been nicer.

You smoothened the stripes of band-aid, gulping as you felt Steve’s gaze boring into your face while you continued.

“I know you’re not incompetent. You’re very capable, you’re the best. It’s just… I still--- worry- for all of you. For the full-time Earth’s mightiest heroes. Silly, huh?” you muttered self-depreciatingly and when your eyes met, you were startled by the intensity he watched you with as you laid your fears bare in front of him, leaving you vulnerable. You swiftly looked away and dropped your hands. “Here, almost as good as new.”

A lump grew in your throat as you stripped your gloves, tossing them into the bin. Did you reveal too much? Didn’t it sound silly indeed as you said it out loud? Yes, you were all friendly with each other, but you were supposed to be a professional, focused on your task, not getting distracted by-

-by Steve gently grasping your wrist, causing your heart to skip a startled beat. Definitely not getting weak in the knees when you shot him a surprised glance and he just… brought your hand to his face, lips briefly skimming over your knuckles.

Jesus Christ, Lord have mercy with me.

“Don’t you ever apologize for caring. Don’t stop caring. Silly is the last thing I’d call it.”

Your cheeks felt like set on fire, stomach fluttering as well as your heart. You could feel the ghost of Steve’s lips on your skin, sending your heartrate sky-high, causing your head to spin a bit, your body hot all over.

Did he really—did he just-? And did it mean that… did it mean anything at all?

He let go of your hand, thumb brushing over your knuckles, but held your gaze adamantly as he gave you a sad smile and rose to his feet, clearly ready to leave.

You, on the hand, stood there frozen, mind racing.

Why had he done that? Was he really just trying to express gratitude and say sorry for his previous behaviour? Because that was not the way it was supposed to be done, because such tenderness left you entirely bewildered. Was he trying to tell you he was somehow interested in something more than friendship? Was he just high from the anaesthetic, mind you, local one that was not supposed to mess with his brain? Was there any sign of a head injury you missed?

“Thank you, again,” he whispered softly, moving to sidestep you and your hand instinctively shot out, latching onto his forearm… gently.

You gulped, heart stuttering when he glanced at you, puzzled.

One part of you wanted to sink into the floor in embarrassment at your unwitting reaction. Another part of you observed him so closely that you would swear that there was another emotion in his eyes and it was neither apology nor gratitude. You wistfully hoped for longing, the same longing you felt when you were near him, sometimes distant and barely there, other times so acute it hurt.

With your stomach somersaulting in doubt, you willed yourself to raise your free hand slowly, purposely giving him a chance – Lord, please, don’t let him take it – to stop you before your palm settled on his cheek.

You were certain you experienced a small cardiac arrest when Steve not only didn’t avoid the touch, but actually leaned into it, gaze fixed on your face, eyes brighter and softer than you ever remembered seeing. Your gaze flickered to his mouth deliberately, throat turning dry. Too daring? He kissed you knuckles, surely you could reciprocate some affection?

Swallowing against your dry throat, you leaned in before you could change your mind and dropped the briefest peck to his lips, causing his eyelids to flutter shut.

Oh no. Oh no no no no, you totally crossed a line-

You went to retreat your hands from him, but the second you moved, his eyes were snapping open, hand covering yours on his face to keep it there, the other cradling your face and then there was a warm and soft sensation on your own lips as he seized them with his.

Your mind went completely blank save two single thoughts: Steve is kissing me. I really like that.

A small sound escaped you, a blend of surprise and contentment, breaking you from your trance and turning you into an actual participant of the pleasant and entirely unexpected activity.

You drew in a small breath, head spinning from the scent of Steve’s shampoo, disinfectant, sweat and something you couldn’t quite put your finger on and not caring.

He tasted faintly of blood, but otherwise was nothing but sweet as his lips caressed yours, gently tugging at your lower lip and then the upper, the lightest graze of teeth and tease of tongue, finger pressing into your jaw to pull you closer, thumb stroking your cheek.

You whimpered involuntarily when his lips parted from yours, soothing as they returned for a short peck, to drop a brief kiss to the corner of your mouth, to brush your cheek.

Your name was a breathy whisper between the two of you, barely audible as all you could hear was your heartbeat pulsing frantically in your ears, growing aware of your fingers clutching at Steve’s still unzipped armour and nearly sinking in his hair, his hot breath tickling your skin.

You didn’t dare to open your eyes – what if you dreamed it up? What if you looked at him and saw regret – it didn’t feel like he would be regretting it, but… still. Insecurity tugged at your mind as it slowly cleared from the literally breath-taking kiss.

Steve repeated your name with urgency that was unheard of, the single word sounding almost as a plea.

“Please say something.”

Oh.

You blinked your eyes open, surprised to be met with his searching gaze, a minute furrow of his brows. It seemed you weren’t the only one whose mind was being the worst of one’s enemies.

Perhaps your brain was being stupid. Perhaps you both wanted this. Perhaps you felt exactly the same.

As you forced yourself to move, fingers actually slipping into his hair to caress his nape, Steve inhaled shakily, shoulders slumping. The tinniest of smiles tugged at his mouth, tempting red and minutely swollen from the kiss; you had to resist the urge to just taste it again.

Instead, you licked your lips only, savouring the previous sensations, smiling unwittingly.

“That’s… uhm, that’s a really creative new way of driving me crazy.”

Steve’s eyebrows rose along with one corner of his mouth, relief written all over his face.

“Oh? There are other ways in which I’m driving you crazy? Because I couldn’t tell...”

You narrowed your eyes, but you didn’t think he bought you unconvincing act of being irritated with him at such remark.

“Don’t push it, Captain,” you warned him, but your treacherous mouth kept curling up in a smile, your body still buzzing with aftershocks of the kiss.

“Wouldn’t dream of it.”

“Uh-huh… s-sure,” you stuttered briefly as his thumb caressed your cheek, bright smiling eyes watching only inches from your face – and yet it felt like he was too far.

“You’re driving me crazy too, you know,” he noted in a breathy voice, causing you to gulp as his gaze flickered to your mouth, clearly implying how you do so… among other ways… like your stubbornness practically matching his.

“Oh really? I do? I couldn’t tell…”

He chuckled, his hand slipping to your nape, soft tickle of his fingers making you squirm.

“I’m gonna kiss you again now if that’s okay,” he whispered, not waiting for your permission and erasing the distance between your lips again.

Still, you whispered your approval to his mouth.

“So okay…”

Long moments later when Sam called out to warn you that you’d be landing soon, you said yes to the grumpy old man’s request to let him treat you dinner.

Oh if you only knew by then how far you’d come…

Lost in thought, goofy smile on your face, you exited the bathroom, ready to snuggle your future husband… and to fully take the opportunity to make love, last night before you officially became his and he became yours.

You had a brief second to register that the bed was empty, your heart skipping a started and disappointed beat. The second you stepped out though, you were literally swept off your feet.

A yelp erupted from your throat as you found yourself with no ground under your feet and high in the air, one of Steve’s arms under your knees, the other under your back. Your hands frantically gripped at the nearest firm point, Steve’s shoulder and arm as you finally realized what the hell happened and was met with a cheeky grin and sparkling blue of his eyes.

That traitor was waiting just by the door to ambush you! Why?

You slapped his very much bare shoulder playfully, hissing a curse, not unaware of the heat radiating of him and seeping into your skin.

“You jerk! You almost gave me a heart attack!” you complained, but he didn’t even have the decency to look apologetic.

“Sorry, sweetheart.”

“No, you’re not.”

Steve grinned wider, shrugging and pulling you closer to his torso, nuzzling your temple and dropping a placatory kiss there.

“Still looking a little cold.”

“No, I look like this because you scared me,” you emphasized, vainly trying to resist the seduction; a mixture of playfulness, sweetness and blatant display of strength as he still held you with ease. It was hard not to be temped. “And you look like you’re awfully warm, parading here without a shirt.”

“Well, I’d call us even since you’re parading around in these absolutely sinful shorts. Makes me hot. I can warm you up,” he mumbled to your skin, lips moving to your ear, causing you to shudder.

How was it so easy for him to make you all hot and bothered? You guessed that at least, as he said, it made you even... it wasn’t difficult to get him riled up either.

“You’re incorrigible.”

“Driving you crazy?” Steve offered, sounding awfully delighted at the idea and you only melted into him further at the reminiscence of your first kiss and what followed.

“Always,” you confirmed, deadly serious, but you couldn’t help the smile tugging at the corners of your lips or the mewl that escaped you when his teeth grazed the shell of your ear, warm breath tickling the sensitive skin of your neck.

“But you love it.”

“Uh-huh…”

“I can live with that with that then,” he said, stalking to the bed determinately. “Now let me drive you so crazy you can barely speak and the only sound you’re making is whimpering my name.”

He all but tossed you on the bed, a yelp of his name in fact erupting from your throat, followed by a fit of giggles that only died when his mouth seized yours, his lips only leaving when heading south to indeed drive you crazy.

And yes; you loved it.

And you loved him too.

In one unending moment I fall within your reach My song a sweet surrender Hold on to me Hold on to me

Before the girls could steal you from him, Steve decided – with your enthusiastic agreement – that you should once again try how it felt to make some morning lovin’ outside marriage. With the ceremony planned for the late afternoon, you had plenty of time; and needless to say, it was bliss. Then again, you believed that marital sex with Steve would be just as delightfully pleasant, thank you very much.

Then, it was a whirlwind – make up, hair, dress, a tear or two spilled when you saw the result in the mirror.

More tears spilled when you glanced out of the window and saw the tastefully and modestly decorated arch, the path created by few scattered rose petals, the male part of your almost family sans Clint in the suits, effectively hiding Steve from you; and you from his just in case, because no one wanted any bad luck.

Your staring was interrupted when your brother went to pick you up to lead you down the aisle.

Upon entering the room and setting his gaze on you, he promptly looked away with a sniffle. It both warmed your heart and made you laugh as did his remark.

“Nope, not giving you to him. In fact, I’m never giving you to anyone. No one will ever be worthy, so I’m keeping you.”

“Hush, Clinton, you’ll still have me,” Natasha winked at him as he took a deep calming breath before carefully eyeing you again.

Clearly, it hadn’t done the job, because few tears still found their way down his cheeks.

“You’re a knock-out, sis,” he sputtered hastily, but no less honestly – clearly moved to tears.

And yet… you snorted at his choice of words and he rolled his eyes, quick to compliment your beauty instead.

You wouldn’t have it any other way though, even appreciating his first remark more for it came from the bottom of his heart rather than from what convention required.

Embracing you carefully in fear he would mess up the work of art his wife and other girls created, he held you in his arms for a moment, as you retuned the hug, clutching at his suit with a little too force. From the corner of your eye, you noticed the bridesmaids clearing the room.

“It’s not like I’m leaving you, Bobo,” you hummed with a smile, throwing his own words from last night at him.

And you weren’t leaving him; your heart swelled with love for your brother, your father figure, your long-life friend.

With sniffle, he let go of you and looked you up and down, proud smile spreading on his lips.

“It’s okay. If you are, I have the best spy in the world for a wife, we’ll drag your ass back home.”

You just slapped his chest playfully and took a deep breath – it was time. Clint grasped your hand firmly then, elbows interlocking, and went to step out just a moment after the bridesmaids left to join the groomsmen.

Well-aware everyone was going to stare and that Steve awaited you at the end of the aisle to marry you, your legs were shaking minutely as the magnitude of the event finally dawned to you.

“Getting second thoughts now?” Clint teased you, eliciting a chuckle from you and shake of your head.

What a question.

“No. Just… please don’t let me fall,” you muttered to him, entirely serious and grateful for your choice of footwear – simple flats hidden by the long flowing skirt of your dress. Better chance of not spraining your ankle on your wedding day.

“Never.”

Clint squeezed your hand under his warm palm and you took a deep breath, stepping into the doorway. Soft melody welcomed you, your very own wedding march Bruce was playing on a mouth organ – something you had previously had no idea he was capable of.  

Looking up from your skirt, you feasted your eyes on the company and the beautiful scenery for only a regretfully short moment, grateful for Sam’s Redwing programmed to record and take photos.

Your gaze instinctively searched the small crowd instead, until it fell under the arch where three men stood.

One of them was Sam himself, having obtained a licence so he could be your wedding registrar; he looked positively dashing. So did Bucky, who patted his best friend dressed in his old-fashioned green captain uniform on the shoulder, his smirk visible even from tens feet away as he stepped back.

Naturally, your gaze lingered on Steve, your feet acting of their own accord and following your brother’s lead.

Gosh, your future husband was the most handsome and absolutely hottest specimen to ever walk the Earth. Hair combed neatly to one side and in his old army uniform, he truly looked like the gentleman from another era he was and yet, he undeniably belonged exactly where he was. His eyes were bright and blue just like the sky, lips slightly parting before curling up into a brilliant smile which somehow still carried the tenderness he treated you with when he felt particularly affectionate.

He must have uttered something under his breath, because Bucky pressed his lips together as if he was holding back laugh. The absolutely best best man, ladies and gentleman.

Your found yourself smiling just as widely, a stray tear tickling the corner of your eye and you had to fight the sudden urge to ditch Clint in order to gather your skirts and run the rest of the way just to jump into Steve’s arms.

But in reality, there was no rush – here, on the damn island Tony rented, there was so much time that one short walk meant nothing in comparison.

“Alright, maybe I’ll give you to him,” Clint whispered, making you bite the inside of your cheek so you would cackle.

Leave it to your brother he would find Steve Rogers so fine he’d be willing to give you out just to have him become a part of your family.

One corner of Steve’s lips twitched in amusement – supersoldier hearing didn’t miss the remark then. Good. Then Bucky heard it too and you had a witness just in case Clint would change his mind. Again.

Finally, with your heart almost in your throat, you reached the end of the aisle, Clint gently putting your hand into Steve’s… without letting go.

“You be nice to her, Cap. And I mean really nice, you hear? Or else-“

“Hush,” you hissed good-naturedly in your brother’s direction, winking at him before you returned your gaze to Steve. “Hey there, handsome.”

Steve chuckled under his breath when Clint stepped back. He returned the greeting with soft ‘hey there, beautiful’ and then proceeded to lift your joined hands, brushing your knuckles with his lips – just like the day you shared your first kiss.

Well now you truly found yourself on the verge of crying. And Lord, you wanted to kiss him so much-

Sam cleared his throat loudly, casting you both a meaningful look as if he could read your mind and wanted to remind you that there were a few things to go through before that could happen.

Ugh. Formalities. Just let me kiss him…

Steve licked his lips – the audacity! – and turned, lightly tugging at your hand so you both faced your friend who held a little leather book open, beckoning towards the guests: Bucky and Natasha, the best man and the best woman, Clint, Bruce, Tony, Vision, Wanda, Sharon, Pepper. Just your closest friends and family.

Sam cleared his throat again.

“Alright. We all know why we gathered here today. To get these two amazing people married, so they could officially become a special team within our team.”

You grinned, peripherally noticing Steve eyeing you as well. Team indeed.

“This is the part where I would ask all of you, bride and groom included, to speak up now if you’re aware of anything standing in the way of this wedlock or to remain silent forever. But frankly, if you have something to say, right now is the perfect time to keep it to yourself. Just let these lovebirds get married…”

Muffled laughter and giggles erupted from your group. Honestly, you wouldn’t say it better. You noticed Clint shifting and Natasha forcefully holding his hand down; you bit down on your lip so you wouldn’t laugh and sent her a grateful smile instead. The best maid of honour ever.

“Good, that’s what I wanted to hear, folks. We have the rings, correct? Great. Just so you know, these two saps asked me to read one vow which they are making to each other, because they didn’t trust themselves to say theirs individually without bursting into tears. So now it’s left to me to cry instead. Thanks for that.”

Your cheeks were honestly starting to hurt from smiling so wide, but tears prickled in your eyes acutely just at the thought of the vow you agreed on. You spent countless hours thinking about what you wanted to say and realized that your vow would be too long and that you would in fact start crying and that you could never name all the things you loved Steve for. It had been a relief to find out that Steve shared the sentiment and the deal was made.

Natasha and Bucky dutifully laid the rings on the pillow Wanda’s powers held levitating by your and Steve’s side – not without Bucky finding a split second to compliment your appearance and earning a brief smirk from Steve.

“I know,” Steve uttered and you wondered if there was a dare going around as to who would make you burst out laughing first.

This was your wedding dammit. You could be at least a bit a lady and remain collected.

Hardly.

“With this ring,” Sam started, breathing in and out and you knew you already lost, first tear rolling down your cheek as you gazed into Steve’s inviting eyes, “I give myself to you without giving up myself. With this ring, I surrender to you for I have faith you understand the value of wielding such power and for I deem you worthy of it. With this ring, I promise to love you, to respect you and to support you to be your best self as I trust you to do the same for me, for us.”

You blinked away the waterfalls, reaching almost blindly for Steve’s ring and with fingers trembling – with giddiness, not nerves – you somehow succeeded at slipping it on his left ring finger.

“I do,” you whispered, your voice cracking even in such simple sentence and the watery smile Steve graced you with made your ribcage feel too small for your swelling heart.

Fingers equally clumsy, he slipped a ring on you as well, shoulders squaring as if in pride.

“I do,” he said firmly, the damp path down his left cheek only adding severity to his vow.

“You may-- uhm, okay, you may kiss the bride, your wife--- I mean, Mrs. Rogers. You may kiss the groom, your husband…” Sam mumbled under his breath until he didn’t, because Steve pulled you in for a kiss the same moment Sam said the first ‘may’ and incidentally, the same moment you practically threw yourself at Steve.

Laughter and whistles erupted from the group of your friends as Steve bend you back dramatically, the determined press of his lips to yours not at all disrupted by the change of angle, claiming your mouth in ways that made you shudder and stirred flames in your belly.

Years and years later, you’d recall that kiss and realized an amazing thing; how it felt just like your first kiss, your last one, and every single one in between.

With you still practically horizontal, Steve’s crinkling eyes met yours, delighted smile on his kiss-swollen lips.

“I love you, Mrs. Rogers,” he hummed, adding a cheeky grin. “You’re stuck with me now.”

“The horror,” you muttered back teasingly, pulling at his nape, demanding another kiss, your own declaration whispered to his mouth. “I love you too, Mr. Rogers.”

And you did. Gosh, you did.

S.R. masterlist

(divider by firefly-graphics)

Well. This turned out SO DIFFERENTLY than I anticipated and SO MUCH LONGER. If you feel like leaving feedback, I’ll be grateful. If not, well. *shurgs*

Excuse me while I go and continue dreaming of ONE fictional man. Ugh. Anyway.

Thank you for reading!

And once again, thanks to WIYBUPT for hosting and for just being awesome in general :)

[mcmystery]

“By My Name” (Cerise & Mr.B)

Midway on their trip to Haven, two travelers took rest at a local inn on the outskirts of a passing town. By foot they took their journey as instructed by the leader of the two, a skilled Huntsman going by the last name Brunswick. He carried little for his trip, with only the clothes on his back, his weapon, and a briefcase that contain what he described; a precious set that binds fidelity.

He took the lead on their faraway journey, with a smaller female companion in tow. She introduced herself to the young Huntsman just a couple of weeks prior as Cerise Han. They met under a particular situation, which included her aiding him during a grimm ambush. It was that quick scene of events where he witnessed something special about her. Even though it conflicted with his work, he decided to let her join him, in hopes to teach her more about her own skills and how to defend herself. With Cerise joining him, she also traveled lightly with the clothes she wore, and nothing more than a backpack filled with light essentials: a pair of pajamas, extra undergarments, a journal with half the pages ruffled from use, a pen, a small wallet filled with a bit of Lien and a medium size map of Anima.

It’s a bit past evening, the sun was slowly sinking towards the horizon. The blue hues of the sky gradually faded into gentle shades of reds and pinks. A distance a way from the inn is an open field that was fenced by a row of trees that led into a dense forest. Cerise began to walk into the open field when she took notice of her traveling partner approaching her. He was returning from picking up a meal for them both and just happened to catch her at the right time.

Cerise smiled happily at his approach and waved at him as he shortened the distance to her. Carrying a paper bag filled with the delicious contents inside, he continued to walk to her with so much of a neutral expression across his face. Within a few yards between them, he finally greeted her back.

“Woman, have you done the training I’ve instructed you to do?” Asking as the last few steps came in front of her.

Cerise, a bit taken back, not by his tone or the way he greeted her, but with the way he referred to her. She thought for a second and then confronted him softly. “Why do you refer to me like that?” She asked curiously.

The taller individual looked at her and tilted his head a bit, with a soft hum in confusion.

“You tend to call me ‘Woman’ sometimes, especially when it comes to anything related to training.” She chuckled softly. Hearing it out loud, the male subtly pulled his head back at the realization, his eyes shifting to the side as if searching for an explanation for his choice of words.

His gaze shifted a bit back and forth to her, then away, “I, um…”

“We’re traveling together, so it’s okay to use my name all the time!” Cerise encourage with a gentle and friendly tone.

There was a pause between them as he thought about it for a short while. He readjusted his posture, eyes wondering away as his head tilted slightly towards that direction. He took a deep breath and closed his eyes, letting them open again with his view only on her.

“It’s an old habit of mine, I apologize.” He spoke tenderly.

Cerise nodded, holding a heartwarming smile to him and before she could answer his question, he interrupted her before she could even get a syllable out.

“Miss Han, have you done your training yet?”

Cerise felt as if a weight had smack her on the top of her head as a new name was given to her. Of course, it is her name, but not the way she wished for him to refer to her as such. She smiled awkwardly and he could read her expression perfectly.

“It’s your name, isn’t it?” The dark hair male mentioned more as a statement than a question. The paper bag crinkled a bit as his tenseness of getting it wrong again.

Cerise wasn’t sure if she wanted to laugh and let it be or try to encourage him to try again. “It is… but it’s a bit formal, don’t you think?”

He stood, placing his free hand on his hip while the other was still preoccupied in holding their precious meal. His eyes shifted away again for a second and back at her, “What’s wrong with that? I want to be respectful.”

Cerise could understand a bit where he was coming from. His up bringing was way different than hers, on top of being a huntsman, and the kind of title he holds; she can understand that’s just the way he is. Yet, she just wanted her name to be used, not a name that sounded like someone else’s, but hers.

“There’s nothing really wrong with it, but it just sounds like you’re referring to my mom is all.” She mentioned with a soft laugh as she turns away slightly. “I guess I just want to have my own identity with you.”

The older male took what she said to heart. In the moments that they shared together, he slipped into past habits that he had trouble controlling at times. Letting them slip by most of the time without considering the other party. He needed to break past that, for Cerise’s sake.

“I’ve been… inconsiderate to you.” He began, “Truth be told, I struggle with my own identity at times, and I feel like I’ve projected that onto you without consideration to how that might make you feel. I…” He trailed off.

A gentle breeze passed through them; it carried the soft sounds of the grassy fields fluttering behind the two. “It shouldn’t be an excuse, with all the tasks I have to take care of, the importance of this trip and now helping you; I’ve been unfair to you. I hope you can forgive me for being insensitive.” He finished with a humble tone, giving her a true apologetic look in hopes she can spare him just this.

Cerise stunned by his speech, stumbled on her words. “H-hey, I mean, you got a super busy job, and I can tell there’s a lot on your mind. I won’t hold it against you since I can understand it’s easy for you to get distracted and slip up at times. Some habits are hard to break out of, but if you’re trying to overcome them, then I can’t get upset at you for that.”

He looked at her grateful for her understanding, relieved that he could mend his mistakes and stay on good terms with her. It felt comforting to know that she’s a gentle individual who is easy to speak with. He respected her honesty and wasn’t going to take that for granted.

Cerise caught his attention by leaning towards him and catching his glance, “I forgive you, yeah? And if you want to give me respect like you said, then use my first name!” She stated cheerfully. Holding a bright smile to him as her cheeks blushes from happiness of being able to express herself to him freely.

“Of course,” He agreed with relief, his eyes wandered towards the ground between them only to be picked up back to hers, which warmly expressed such blissful feelings radiating from that gentle admiration towards him.

He could feel himself struggling internally but managed to push out with a low tone that was rarely heard from him, “Cerise…”

Her breath was caught in her throat at the sound of him calling her. He’s said her name before on normal occasions, but at this moment it just sounded different to her ears. Maybe it’s because of the conversation they just had that holds weight to his tone. Either way, she could tell there was a difference in the way he spoke her name in this moment that made her heart skip a beat. She could feel the skin on her cheeks began to heat up and most likely display a flustered appearance. As her heart picked up in pace, her hands came up to hide whatever expression she was displaying.

“Cerise?” He said again with a tint of concern. Which flustered her more so since he took notice of her obvious reaction.

“Yeah?” She muffled behind her palms.

“It’s okay to say your first name, right?” He asked to find confirmation.

“Yeah.” Speaking again into her hands.

Her male companion dropped his shoulders in relief and smiled at her display. Seeing her reacted the way she did, warmed his heart slightly. He took a deep breath and let it out without worry. As he did, the crinkling sound of the paper bag still in his arms reminded them of their meal.

“Why don’t you take a day off for training today.” he began. “We can pick it up again tomorrow evening at a new location; let’s take the evening off to enjoy this meal and relax.”

Cerise peaked out from behind her hands and stared at him, “You sure? I thought you said it was important I stick to my training?”

He began to turn before walking away back to the inn, “I did say that, but its also important to rest.” He nodded his head towards the inn, “Let’s head back, Cerise.”

She perked up at the sound of her name now, it sounded more casual than before, like how she’s normally used to hearing it from him. She nodded with a hum of approval and took a few steps his direction as he started his walk back. Cerise caught up with him and in a playful joke referred to him, “Lead the way, Mr. Brunswick.”

[writefightandflightclub]

You are my sunshine (Finn x GN reader)

What is this? This is 7/10 one-shots/blurbs for my “friends to lovers” event. (More deets in pinned post). The prompt is from @phoenixhalliwell​ and is Finn with “You think something is wrong but I simply have a huge crush on you and turn to jelly whenever you’re around.” Emma, thanks so much, and I hope that you like this! <3 I don’t write Finn often so I dearly hope I did him justice!

Author’s note: Finn! He’s precious. He deserves everything! Hope you enjoy this- there’s a little bit of angst but it’s followed by fluff. Everything ends well <3

Word count: 3k. You had all better be proud of me for writing something less than 5k :P

Warnings: lil bit of angst (reader thinks Finn is mad at them). Trapped in a cockpit but no danger / not claustrophobic or anything. Slight reader insecurity. It’s pretty light tbh :o)

You watch Finn leave with a sharp pang of pain. His excuses are becoming more and more elaborate, and it’s wearing thin. 

 “Sorry, I have to go and deal with a porg infestation on the Falcon.”

“I can’t hang around, Leia’s fuming mad at Poe - he made some crude Outer Rim innuendo during the briefing and she is pissed.”

“I can’t play sabacc anyway because... because I got dust in my eyes on the mission and everything is blurry.”

“I have to run and...” and then he, in fact, ran away from you.

Alright, the first two were feasible, but that last one, especially? Pretty kriffing flimsy.

It was beginning to sting a little. Alright, a lot. You and Finn usually hung out, whenever he was around on base. You always had, ever since Finn had taken control of his fate and been welcomed by the Resistance.

Since then, you had become his first real friend, and when everything was scary and new to him, you had held his hand. Literally- Finn was always reaching for you. For comfort. For reassurance. To demonstrate his fondness of you. Just because.

Of course, he’d settled into the Resistance like he’d always been a part of it, and had quickly formed a range of new friendships, including with Poe and Rey - all the cool kids on base. Of course he had. The man is likeable, courageous, and he has sunshine in his heart - despite being raised in the shadows. The strength of his light is so powerful that it blinds you sometimes. So, he’d made other friends, but you had always been his first, and his best.

At least, until now.

Recently, Finn’s touches and warm hugs and light had begun to retreat from your sky. You miss his bright brown eyes and his beaming smile desperately. You miss your movie nights and long chats. You miss laughing until your sides hurt. You miss the way he can turn anything into an adventure. The way he really listens when you talk, and his good, brave, generous heart.

This distance? It is more than a natural drift - it is more an intentional break. Intentional on his side, at least. Most definitely not on yours.

You don’t know why. You don’t know what you’ve done wrong…

…But you are determined to find out.

And, if Finn won’t talk to you off his own back, you’ll simply have to concoct some flimsy excuse of your own.

***

That’s exactly what you do, yourself and Finn now sealed together, alone, in the cockpit of some old cargo ship.

“You’ve trapped us in here?!” the man exclaims, voice loud and ringing with a rising panic.

“No,” you sigh, defeatedly. You don’t want to panic him - you just want to talk to him; without him running away. “You’re not trapped. Obviously, I’d never actually...” you trail off as you watch Finn urgently button-bashing on the control panel by the door, clearly pretty desperate to leave. “I just thought…” you explain, raising your voice a little to be heard over his rising and increasingly vocal frustration. “It was supposed to be a chance for us to talk.”

Finn turns towards you, all this energy coiling in his body, practically bouncing on his toes in his rush to get out of there. He looks as though the prospect of talking to you fills him with dread.

Your face drops. You should have realised this was a bad idea.

“We talked this morning,” Finn defends, weakly. Yeah, for all of two seconds. “Can’t you open this thing?” he pleads, throwing his thumb towards the door.

Fine. Whatever. If he’s that desperate to flee from you, so be it. Maybe you need to accept the fact that things aren’t the same between you anymore. Maybe never will be. Your heart aches in your chest.

Your shoulders slumping, you push the Jedi-in-training and all-round Resistance hero aside, punching the unlock code into the panel.

It beeps angrily in response.

A furrow in your brow, you try again.

“Oh, kriff.”

“What is it?” Finn asks from over your shoulder.

This is fine, actually. You have a back-up. Except, you pat your belt for your communicator, remembering at the same time exactly where you left it in the hangar.

“Okay,” you turn around to face him, your face locked in an apologetic grimace, hands raised in surrender. “So, we may actually be trapped now, but I would like to emphasise this was very much not The Plan.”

Finn purses his full, brown lips together, in entirely transparent irritation, an ire brewing in his eyes.

“I’m sorry!” you say defensively, though you note that your friend, Finn, would have found this funny -made the best of it- and the Finn is front of you now is someone else entirely.

“Being stuck here with you is the last thing I need right now,” Finn says into his hands, the words muffled, and yet their meaning perfectly -and painfully- clear.

Oh. Okay. That’s how it is?

You take a step back from him, wrapping your arms around yourself and rotating quickly away to face the transparisteel window. His harshness feels so alien to you, and bitter tears sting in your eyes, which you don’t want him to see.

“Kriff. That’s not what I meant. It came out wrong,” Finn says softly from behind you, and you finally hear the familiar kindness infusing his voice. The kindness you’ve been so desperate to enjoy again these past weeks. “What I meant was... was...”

Your back to him still, you raise your arm in the air. “Save it, Big Deal. You don’t want to talk to me? Let’s not talk,” you bite, your voice low and taut.

You’ve given Finn the benefit of the doubt for long enough now. Maybe this was a problem you shouldn’t try to fix. He obviously likes things precisely as they are.

Finn, for his part, hovers beside you, clearly apologetic, but you can’t even bring yourself to look at him. Instead, you focus all of your energies on popping open the console, pulling out the wire guts, and looking for a way to open this damn door.

He may have been running away from you, but now you’re the one who wants nothing more than to get out of there.

You had wanted to talk, but all of a sudden you don’t want to hear it. You can’t take one more flimsy excuse without breaking.

***

You’d tried everything. Banging on the door, waving out of the viewports. Trying to find a hatch to escape out of. There was nothing left to do but wait for your data patch to run. You’d linked-up some wires and an old data-pad to the controls, and it was simply a matter of time before your program loaded, overriding the door panel and thus letting you out of there.

Unfortunately, the small matter of time is proving problematic. It has already been about an hour, and the screen indicates your program is only about 75 per cent through -blasted old tech- and you’re not sure how much longer you can endure this fraught, awkward silence. 

Save for your escape attempts, you and Finn still haven’t spoken, and, eventually admitting defeat, you have each sunk to the floor on opposite sides of the cockpit, your knees drawn-up to your chest and backs pressed against the walls of the cool metal chamber. Now, the increasingly cool metal chamber, as the afternoon draws on and the suns begin to sink below the horizon.

You sigh.

“Why are you avoiding me, Finn?” you finally ask, firmly, bringing your eyes to meet his. “And, I beg you. No more kriffing excuses.”

Finn’s knees are drawn-up too, and his elbows resting on top of them, fingers weaving and fiddling together somewhere in the middle as your question finds him.

He purses his lips together once more, his bright, expressive eyes brimming with trepidation, his hand coming up to self-consciously brush against the tip of his rounded nose.

Eventually, his head drops down, until you’re only looking at the top of it. He’s growing out his tightly-coiled, black hair on the top, sides closely cropped, and you idly note that the length suits him. There’s nothing else to note, as he still isn’t saying anything.

Still, when you take a step back from your anger and your boredom, you recognise all the signs of him being anxious, now that he can no longer run away from your questions.

“It’s not what you think,” he sighs, and you shake your head in continued frustration and look sharply away, up and out of the viewport.

And, in the continued absence of an answer from him, your insecurities begin to fill in the blanks. “You know, Big Deal, you don’t have to hang around me just because I’m the first person you met.” Out of the corner of your eye you see Finn’s head snap up to look at you, distress shining in his eyes. You ignore it. “If you’ve decided this friendship isn’t what you need anymore, I can take it. I just wish you’d stop bullshitting me. I deserve better than that.”

Then, you try to suppress it, but you shiver, wrapping your arms around yourself in an attempt to keep warm. You’ve felt chilly for a while now, but you have desperately been trying to conceal the fact.

Without missing a beat, Finn slips his -Poe’s- jacket off from his shoulders, shuffling closer to you, without rising from the floor. As he shrugs it off, he reveals nothing but a white, ribbed vest underneath, tight over his toned figure, and tucked into his belt at his waist. The vest sits in contrast with the deep brown of his skin, the bulge of his cultivated muscles evident in his strong, densely-packed shoulders and arms.

This? This is precisely what you’ve been trying to avoid. You feel warmer already.

Regardless, he moves to your side, kneeling next to you, and he pauses when he gets there. Hesitates. He lifts his finger, running it ever so slowly over the textured goosepimples on your forearm. “You’re cold,” he states, his voice so deep and rich, and his touch and his proximity sending a shiver through you in an entirely different way. You’d like to argue, you really would, but he weakens you, his sudden warmth melting you quickly after his long absence, and you let him guide you forward enough that he can drape his jacket around your shoulders. It is still warm from his body heat. It smells like him.

You wanted silence, but this is the kind that you don’t like; tense, albeit in a different way.

“Thank you,” you say thinly, expecting Finn to pull immediately away again. But he doesn’t.

Instead, his eyes go a little wide and afraid, even as he sets his jaw determinedly. He reaches his hand out, ghosting it slowly down the length of your arm, until he has scooped one of your hands up and flattened it in-between his own broad, warm palms.

Holding your hand.

You’ve missed that so much.

You watch Finn in gentle puzzlement, as his pink tongue nervously swipes out over his bottom-lip. And, with your eyes gently encouraging him to go on, he finally blurts it out. He finally says what he’s been keeping from you.

“I have a huge crush on you. I turn to kriffing jelly whenever you’re around me.”

Your hand suddenly becomes clammy, held in-between his. Your heart quickens.

Wait, what?

“I’m so sorry if I hurt you,” he says, his eyes soft like distant starlight. “It’s just, I panic. I know I like to pretend I’m all smooth...” he chuckles self-consciously, that laugh sounding from deep in his chest, and oh boy, you’ve missed that sound too. You’ve missed that gorgeous pearly smile, which blooms tentatively on his face.

“Smooth?! You do a terrible job of that, Finn, no-one’s buying it,” you tease, but it’s fond, your free hand settling on top of his, and your eyes crinkling with reciprocal joy as his beautiful broad smile widens, his face full of sparkle and light.

“Oh? Okay. That’s how it is?” he laughs.

You’ve missed this. Have missed him.

That’s it? That’s all it is? He has a crush?

After a few moments, the two of you apparently basking in relief -on your part that you haven’t done anything wrong, and on his, that his confession is finally through- his smile naturally falls from his lips; however, it lingers in his eyes, that gentle starlight back again.

“I’m sorry for avoiding you. I just… kept messing everything up around you. I didn’t want you to think I was the biggest dumbass on base.”

“Oh, Finn, honey-” you grin, and he completes the sentence with you, nodding, and a big chuckle falling out of him. “Poe is the biggest dumbass on base.”

Isn’t that the truth?

You simply look at each other for a moment, all this starlight swirling in the space between you.

“Come here,” you say softly, finally, unable to resist, and you shuffle on to your knees so you can lean forward and give him the biggest hug, your arms folding around his sturdy, muscled form. It feels so good to close this distance, especially after so long. Especially as no-one on base gives better hugs than Finn, you are reminded, as he holds you.

“Are we... cool?” he asks apprehensively, into your shoulder as he squeezes you tightly, and you pull back from him, your hands still resting on his shoulders and his weaving under, settled around your waist.

“We’ll always be cool, Finn. It’s going to take more than that.”

“Yeah?” he smiles happily. “Good, because I missed you so kriffing much. I have so much to tell you.”

“And I want to hear it, but first,” your mouth tips up into a smirk. “Can I kiss you now?”

Finn’s eyes widen in shock and he makes a bunch of noises – broken, flustered syllables and consonants, his eyelashes fluttering in disbelief. He’s sunk into his relief so readily, that he must have forgotten entirely to entertain the idea you might like him back.

Your hands trail all the way down his toned arms, until you slowly fold his hands into yours, giving him a reassuring squeeze. “Play it cool, Finn,” you tease, giving him a quick wink.

He schools himself, and even as you notice a hard swallow bob down his throat, and he lets out a long, slow exhale of breath through the circle of his lips, he makes use of his classic bravado. At least, for long enough to get some coherent strings of words out.

“Yes please. Y-yeah. Kiss me. You... should do that.”

Too many words.

So, you inch forward, and you press a fleeting, light, chaste kiss to his impossibly soft lips. Just enough to shut him up, before dipping your head back, giving him time to respond.

He looks at you sweetly, in shock for a moment, but, before you know it, his lips are chasing yours with a whole new confidence, and his mouth twitches-up in a smile as he meets you again. This time, the kiss is not fleeting. This time, it is drawn-out; a slow, sensual, gradually deepening thing. He hums against your mouth, the sound low and reverberating through you, and, as the kiss grows, his broad hands slowly and safely lower you down against the cockpit floor, arranging his jacket under you so that your skin needn’t touch the cold metal - only his warmth.

When you break for air, he settles himself over you, strong arms holding him up, his eyes shining with disbelief and adoration. He looks at you in a way that says – yes, you may have been his first friend, but that, maybe, you could be his first love as well.

As he gazes down at you, your hands wind up around the back of his head, skimming lovingly over his textured, raven hair, and readying to pull him back down to you, eager to drink more of him in. To feel more of his skin against yours. However; you are cruelly interrupted by a harsh sequence of beeps, indicating that the door is finally unlocked. Finn briefly twists his head over his shoulder, confirming with a look.

“Power’s back on- we can get out of here now,” you say breathily from under him. 

“Nah,” he says, with a subtle smirk and a shake of his head, apparently not wanting to move anywhere that would shift his warm body from on top of yours. “I think we should stay here a little longer, how about you?”

“Fine by me, Finn,” you agree quickly, beaming back at him, like the moon reflecting sunlight, basking in his warm glow.

His eyes narrow for a moment, searching yours, and he rolls you both on to your sides, your thigh coming to land over him, and his warm hand begins to stroke you there, as his sweet, languid kisses continue to find you in succession, his breaths coming more quickly, his need unravelling. “Is this okay?” he asks, pausing momentarily to skim his thumb over your cheek and down under your chin. “How are you feeling?”

While Finn seems relatively calm and sure right now, you are suddenly feeling like jelly. “Shaking. Nervous,” you admit, your words trembling out of you.

He nods a little, like he could tell. Maybe he could feel you tremble against him, or maybe it’s deeper than that. Maybe it’s the Force. You certainly feel like something deep and powerful is eddying between you.

“It’s okay,” Finn promises softly, his voice breath, and planting a small kiss to the tip of your nose. “If you want to keep going, I’ll be here to hold you.”

Your eyes shine with happy tears, and this time, when you drag him enthusiastically to your lips, your legs wrapping more tightly around him, you know that you need not be nervous at all. It has always felt right whenever he reached for you, ever since the beginning; and now is no exception. It is so much more than him holding you physically – you feel safe in his arms in every way you could.

You had missed him so deeply, not only because you have a huge crush on him right back, but also because he is your friend. And while he may not have been your first? He is certainly your best.

Finn is your sunshine, and you are endlessly pleased to have him back; to see him shining.

[of-tatooine]

for the record. | chapter 1 - alpha

off-duty time would not last you for too long.

After all these years, the world never ceased to remind you that rules never changed.

While the players of the game always rotated along with the enemy and the friendly alike, this dangerous life that many chose to lead had undeniable constants - etched onto your brain in a devout mantra, something to remember in your darkest or most fleeting moments.

Kill, or be killed.

That was the first thing that they taught you, at the beginning of those long and arduous days of training in the barracks. Scout out the situation and if there is any sign of remote danger, pull your gun first, or you will end up with a bullet in your head. Sometimes, it was better to shoot first and then ask questions - if you were still alive by then.

Though in your line of work, the learning phase never ended. Warfare shifted and changed constantly, forcing you to adapt. It was something you had to just come in terms with. At that point in your career, as sad as it was to think about it from a civilian’s perspective, it was all more creative and effective ways of getting confirmed kills. New weapons, new tactics brought with them new problems - along with new ways of dealing with them. Technology tackled advanced aircraft and armor, adding up to your arsenal.

One thing remained the same.

It all added up to the big stirring pot of the everlasting recipe - mass destruction.

And with destruction came in the casualties. The aftermath of modern combat. The rivers of blood on pavement, hands clawing at the burnt metal, scathed bodies crawling out of the smoky debris. Sights and sounds and screams you wanted to erase from your memory for a lifetime. The pain coarsing through the body after the penetration of a bullet. Sickening roars of helicopter engines giving out.  

Yet, as a soldier, all you could do, all you were authorized to do was to bury them deep down - so you could live to see another day. Another day to fight for the flag. For peace, for honor and for the sake of lives.

The lives of many against your only.

The warm mug a welcome distraction in your hands, your eyes would wander around the busy Regent Street of London, people walking around in the usual hustle and bustle of the shopping district. The smell of freshly ground beans from the cafes scattered around, mixing in with the pleasantness of the gray post-rainfall. A spectrum of vibrant colors of shopping bags and clothes pleasing your eyes - it had been a while since you had gotten to enjoy a couple of hours all saved for yourself. The book whose pages were between your fingers moments ago then closed, as your conscience lost itself within the faces creating the sea of people.

The lives you were sworn to protect. Sometimes it felt like remembering another life, far far away - that you had been one of them. A civilian. Who needed protection in times of immediate danger.

Some were smiling and laughing, without a care in the world, radiating energy and happiness which had been a blessing in the usual London gloom. Some were in professional attire, their strides just a bit faster  and their expressions harboring that of stress, concern and exhaustion. Not too long ago, you had been one of them - but your brain did not let you dissociate from the constucted reality you had left just yet.

None of those troubles mattered when snipers left and right rained bullets on you. The stress of studying for a big test was nothing compared to being caught in blast radius, fearing to look around you so you do not see your friends dead and gone.

The echoes of your last name originating from an accented, deep voice reached your ears, rippling inside the busy cafe you had chosen to visit for the day. Coming closer and closer until they associated with a couple thuds of heavy feet and finally, a face, as you turned around to face whomever was looking for you.

Out of all places, Captain.

It did not take you too long to get to your feet out of respect and sheer habit, offering him a nod in an attempt to hide your surprise. “Sergeant,” he would greet you with your rank, the commanding voice he used on the field to lead dampened - yet still powerful. It even had a small smile attached to it too, which was not unusual.

It made the thumping of your heart slow down. A civilian visit from your Captain usually meant bad news and noticing his mouth curl up under the beard calmed you down more than you ever thought.

“Captain Price,” you greeted back, arm gesturing to the seat right in front of you across the marble table, inviting him. “Please.”

The man, whom you had become so used to seeing in the famous military green was dressed in the simple and casual combination of a black jacket   with jeans. It was a welcome change - not often did you see your commanding officer at a coffee shop in the heart of the city. Consequently, the air had been a bit awkward - just like how it felt when you felt the need to always show your best self, like there had been no room for mistakes.

That did not mean you could not try to get on his better side.

“Can I get you anything, Sir? Tea? I doubt they have a good pint here.”

That was when he looked directly in your eyes.

They said all soldiers had this blur in their eyes wherever they looked at. That no matter how happy they had been, no matter how much sparkle covered their worn-out irises, the dusty haze that veiled them was ever present. His familiar blue glint was subdued by some unknown, yet not lifeless. Not soulless. There was some sort of drive fueling him, the origins of it unbeknownst to you - the only thing you could discern was that it must have been for some good, judging by his chuckle and the slight shake of his head.

A file stamped with the all-too-familiar red confidential sign slid across the white marble along with him as he got settled in the chair, leaning his elbows slightly over the top.

“Raincheck, Sergeant, but I do have something that you might like.”

And with that, his fingers pushed the rather thin file over to you, blue eyes gazing around the shop as he undoubtedly made sure everyone was minding their own business. Here at London, he knew he had been safer than most places and yet you could only attest to the cautiousness of the man.

An eyebrow slightly raised as you leaned a bit forward, the initial welcome surprise slowly yielding to apprehension of what was inside the document. Another mission assingment had been the last thing you wanted to see after the literal living hellhole of the battlezone you had last been to. A part of you did not want to open up that cover but the other half of you yearned desperately to.

With a quick look to confirm, once you got his nod, you yielded to your other half.

And with every second spent looking at the papers containing profiles and overviews adorned with the faint Crusader shield watermarks, your eyebrows would furrow even more in confusion. Towards the bottom of the page, you could spot the one-liner character profiles for soldiers - some you had recognized and worked with, some names ringing no bells at all.

Then there it was. It was a mystery to you why it had taken you that long to find it. Right under the line occupied by a certain “John ‘Soap’ Mactavish” was your full name, with a old picture of you that belonged to one of your earlier days of training.

What the hell kind of a name is Soap?

“Now, I know you’re on the reserve for the time being,” Price spoke, breaking you out of your silent concentration as your head snapped up to divert focus into him. “But your skills in combat were not unnoticed.”

That made you proud inside, yet on the outside - it manifested in a subtle way of a simple yet courteous nod as you waited for him to continue. Closing the file for the time being, you felt the air shift as he leaned in towards you - voice dropping lower and tone growing grave.

“We have a huge war looming in the horizon, Sergeant,” he said, piercing orbs staring right into your soul. The kind of stare that could have the toughest of soldiers crack and break down, that could stop the bullet in trajectory.

“Millions of lives are at stake. You saw what happened in Urzikistan - you were there, on the frontlines.”

The mere mention of the place made your jaw clench and a gulp run down your throat, the memories of utter bloodshed still fresh in your mind.

“It is going to happen again.”

“How can I help?” slipped out of your mouth before your brain could control it, completely forgetting the fact that you had been granted off-duty time and was currently on it. Forgetting that you had to worry about taking care of your own demons in your head first, before jumping right into a war you thought you had just ended.

“I want you to be on my team,” he simply said, a look of reassurance thrown your way as he folded his arms on the table, head tilting just a bit to gauge yur reaction. His finger reached out to gently tap on the folder, gently opening the tab and pointing to the list of soldiers including yours truly.

“You will be working with handpicked warriors, the toughest of them all. Undertaking the most covert and dangerous operations - changing the world as you do it.”

There was this tone of finality in his voice that made it feel natural for you to follow everything he was instructing you to. Of course it was - he was your commanding officer, yet what he was asking out of you this time was much more than a simple recruitment for an operation.

No, what he made it sound like was that his team would be something akin to a ghost - working behind enemy lines, not alerting a single soul. It honored you that he had included you along with the names of seemingly renown soldiers, selected for off-the-grid duty due to your previous success. But was there really a need to add any additional danger to your already-risky life? It was a miracle you had not died yet and you were not so sure if another covert operation team would help with your chances. These kinds of operations only ended in either of the two ways - your mutilated corpse in a body bag or carrying your friend’s instead.

There probably also would not be many other occassions where Captain Price, one of the most trusted officers in the Services, would approach you with such an opportunity.

As your mind raced in crazy thought traffic, the sounds of the outside world and the otherwise peaceful cafe had been muffled. It was only you, him, and that little paper file you grazed your fingertips on, in order to maintain at least a slice of reality. Decisions like these had never been easy to make, especially when they would completely change your life and possibly your entire outlook. They never would be easy - there was not much “easy” associated to your line of work.

And yet going into it in the first place was something you had willingly chosen.

After all of that blood, sweat and lead - how could you say no?

Taking a deep breath as your lips moved to echo your determined voice, you spoke sofly with a nod. Chest loosening as you let out a breath you had no idea you had been holding for so long.

“I’m in, Sir.”

The ghost of a smile turned into a real one as his hand extended itself over the table, an almost proud nod as you shook it as firmly as you could.

“Welcome to the 141.”

next chapter

[smallheathgangsters]

Second Youngest | S!S

A/N: I’m sorry, I really struggled with this one, but I hope it’s okay. Also, I had to make a few changes to the original request to boost my creativity and to me, it just made a little more sense this way. 

Request: a very long one by @amys-small-world

Shelby!Sister

Word Count: 1826

Type: angst, a little bit of fluff

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

Life had never been kind to Y/N, from the beginning on. Even her last name didn’t change any of that. Being a Shelby sounded like a privilege, something everyone wanted to be. Nobody daring to disrespect you and receiving everything you ever demanded, no questions asked. But when your own family doesn’t accept you as their own, the Shelby name transforms itself into a burden instead of a blessing. And that burden never went away for Y/N.

Being the second-youngest sibling and unfortunately not sharing the same mother as the others were features that were weighing heavily on her shoulders. Especially the fact that she had resulted out of an affair with a backstreet whore their father had been having behind his wife’s back, spoke for itself. She wasn’t a Shelby the family was proud of. She was the sibling nobody mentioned to anybody. The mistake none of them wanted to talk about. The reason for their mother’s worst heartbreak. Having a fling with a prostitute was one thing, but getting her pregnant? A whole other story.

That meant, that Y/N had to grow up by herself. Even though the Shelby’s took her in right after her birth and made sure to give her a bed to sleep in, food to eat and eventually work to do, they didn’t give her attention, even a second of their time or love at all.

To put it simply, Y/N had no idea what it meant to be loved.

As a child it had been easier, since she had friends to play with at school. But as she grew older, she lost those connections and Polly made sure to keep her inside to do housework instead of fooling around outside and getting into trouble with the other kids. So, Y/N spent most of her days cleaning and cooking for the Shelby household, instead of collecting memories like all the other teenagers.

Never receiving the brotherly protection like Ada had, she’d been forced to fend for herself since. Like the time, when she went grocery shopping by order of Polly and a group of kids her age started following her and calling her names and eventually tripping her, so she fell into a puddle on the street. She returned with her clothes soaked and dirty, making her get a horrible telling off by her aunt. If anything like that had happened to Ada when she’d been Y/N’s age, the boys would have made sure to beat the life out of those kids and that they never even dared to get near her again. But since she was the bastard child her brothers didn’t care about, nobody was there to defend her and keep her safe.

Therefore, the next time she came across the same group of kids, she punched the boy who had tripped her, right across the face, most likely breaking his nose by the cracking sound and his painful screams.

When she returned home, Polly asked her why there was blood on her dress. Y/N didn’t answer, keeping it a secret, like countless other things that would happen in the following years of her life.

At the age of twenty, Y/N was a wreck. Even those four years, when her three eldest brothers were fighting in the war, weren’t any different to the ones before. While Polly had taken over the brothers’ business together with Ada and some other women, Y/N had been tasked with the care of little Finn and the maintenance of the house. It had been acts like those, that made her feel so useless and so out of place. Would she ever be good enough for anything else?

Most nights she cried herself to sleep. She just couldn’t understand how she was still in this awful position. She waited twenty years for her family to hopefully one day change their ways, accept her as a family member and stop acting as if she wasn’t even present. It was horrible knowing that her family was expanding the business without including her even in the slightest way. Was she really that worthless? Why did everybody blame her for something she had no control over? Would this ever change?

It was the day before her twenty-first birthday. Y/N had had a terrible night, waking up multiple times and having awful nightmares, if she did fall asleep. Thoughts about her future had kept her from getting rest. Since the only thing she’d ever done was housekeeping at home and never got to broaden her horizon by finding a job outside, she felt like she could never escape this life she was living. She wanted to be a nurse or a teacher or seamstress. Anything but staying trapped in this state she was in.

Knowing it was still very early in the morning and the rest of the Shelby family was still sound asleep, Y/N rolled out of bed with a groan and put on some clean clothes. She decided that she needed to take a walk in the empty Birmingham streets before her unpleasant daily routine would start over again. She carefully padded down the stairs, making sure the old wood wouldn’t creak too loudly and grabbed her coat before stepping out into the cool, dewy air and closing the door quietly.

This kind of silence was rare. It was just before five o’clock, what meant that even the early risers weren’t awake yet and factories didn’t start their machines before six. Enough time for Y/N to clear her thoughts, to make sure she wouldn’t go crazy today. Because she felt like being at the verge of completely losing it.

She wandered along the cobble, passed little boutiques and bakeries and eventually ended up in front of the catholic church Polly often went to pray in. She wasn’t religious in any means, but she’d always found peace in the serenity inside the church walls. How her heels clicked on the marble floor and the people in the time-consuming paintings on the ceiling kept their eyes on her, giving her all of their attention, unlike her own family.

After entering, Y/N sat down in one of the rear rows, as though she’d be stepping too close to God if she’d gone any further. God, who most likely didn’t care for her or her existence. She sighed, propped up her elbows on her thighs and placed her head in her hands. Then, she let her eyelids close, realising just how tired she was. Lack of sleep being the least relevant one of all the reasons. Feeling the tiredness creeping up on her, consuming her entire body, she stretched herself out on the cold, hard church bench, her eyes not opening even a tiny bit.

She knew she’d fall asleep, but what she didn’t know, was that she’d eventually sleep through the entire morning. The loud bang of the heavy church door slamming against the wall, tore her from her uneasy sleep, making her sit up in panic.

“Y/N? Is that you?”

It was Finn’s voice. She knew immediately that she was in trouble. Although his tone didn’t actually sound very angry.

She wrapped her arms around her body, not answering his question and silently hoping that she’d be overlooked. But that clearly wasn’t going to happen, since she was the only one in the church and she’d stupidly shot up when hearing the alarming noise.

She heard his footsteps get closer and internally prepared herself to be yelled at, and if not from Finn, than from Polly later on. She tried her best to stay strong and hold back the tears forming in her eyes, but it was all too much to handle. She didn’t want to go back home. She wanted to run away or at least just stay here, by herself, as long as she could.

Surprisingly, Finn didn’t grab her by the arm and pull her with him or even tell her to get up. He didn’t say anything at all. He shuffled into the row and sat down next to her.

With her hand in front of her mouth, she muffled the sobs escaping. Then, she felt a hand on her shoulder, squeezing it gently.

“Family’s looking for you,” she heard Finn mumble.

Y/N took away her hand from her mouth and sniffled. “I– I know …”

Finn sighed. “I’m not going to tell them where you are.”

His unexpected statement made her sobs stop immediately. “W–What did you just say?”

Finn pulled back his hand and interlaced his fingers, resting his entangled hands on his thighs. “It’s not that I don’t see my family being very … unfair to you.”

Y/N almost scoffed, but wasn’t able to hold back her eye roll, which Finn noticed. “I totally understand that you’re angry.”

“Angry?”

That was the moment she suddenly couldn’t keep her thoughts from spilling over her lips. “You think I’m angry? Finn, I’m broken. I’m actually so fucking heartbroken. My own family made it their mission to make my life a living hell. I’m over being angry. I just want to leave!”

Her voice was laced with disappointment and hurt. This was the first time she’d ever told somebody the way she was truly feeling.

Finn gave her a sad look. “I’m sorry, Y/N …”

“It’s not your fault, Finn,” she sighed, scratching at the dried-up spots on her hands. “This started even before you were old enough to realise what was happening …”

Finn started chewing on his lip uncomfortably. “I never understood why they didn’t want to accept you. You’re my favourite sibling, you know that?”

Her head turned to her brother, a hint of shock in her face. “What?”

“You were the mother I never had. You took care of me when I was a kid, played with me, cooked for me. I didn’t know that you were forced to do all of that, but I really appreciated it, even at that age. I know I never showed it after I got older and I regret that.”

His words went straight to her heart, making it contract in a way it had never before. Y/N tried to respond something, but her breath just got stuck in her throat, making it unable for her to speak.

“It’s okay. You don’t have to reply anything to that. I just wanted to let you know. And I’d love to help you start a new life somewhere, if that’s really what you want.”

She shook her head. “All I ever wished for was to have a family. A family that loved me and involved me. But not even waiting for twenty-one years made a difference. It’s all still the same.”

He gulped, grabbing her hand. “Let me speak to them, okay? I want them to know that I care about you. And if they’re not willing to change, I’ll help you get out of here. You deserve better.”

Y/N started crying. “I deserve better …”

[fandom-collective-writers]

The Transit of Venus (Nobunaga Oda x MC)

Fandom: Ikemen Sengoku

Pairing: Nobunaga Oda x MC

Prompt: Eclipse, hide n’ seek, scavenger hunt, shooting stars

Warning: Smut!

Intended Audience: Female Audience

Word Count: 3,495

Requested by: @nad-zeta​

Written by: @lordsisterxotome​

Disclaimer: I do not own Ikemen Sengoku or any of its characters. All of that goodness is the property of Cybird. I do, however, own the plot of this fanfic. Please do not repost this on any other website.

Other notes: My left arm is still in a cast so it took me way too long to type this.^^;

       It started with an innocent conversation. 

       Nobunaga was hungry for knowledge, the kind that was commonplace in her time thanks to the advances of modern technology but undiscovered in the Sengoku period. MC couldn’t remember how they had gotten on the topic of the stars and planets while lazing in bed, but before she knew it, she was explaining the types of eclipses to him, including the rarest of them all.

       “It’s called the transit of Venus,” she murmured, tracing circles on her lover’s calloused palm as she lay nestled comfortably against his chest. “And it happens every 243 years in pairs spaced eight years apart.”

       It had been relatively useless knowledge up until now, floating around in her brain amongst other miscellaneous facts, but it seemed to interest her warlord, whose red eyes gleamed in interest as she spoke. “What’s Venus?” he asked, pulling her closer as if he could cuddle the answers out of her. 

       “It’s a planet, the second from the sun,” she replied, closing her eyes and snuggling closer to the warmth of his chest. “It’s named after the Roman goddess of beauty, love, and prosperity.”

       Nobunaga hummed, his hand ghosting along her bare side and making her shiver. “I’ve never heard of such a goddess.” MC could feel him smirking down at her, and she opened one eye to peer lazily up at him, her suspicions confirmed. Reaching up, she buried a hand in the dark hair at the nape of his neck and pulled him down for a long kiss, feeling him smile against her lips. 

       “Tell me more,” he purred, lips brushing hers as he spoke.

       “Shouldn’t we be getting up now?” Chuckling, she brushed his hair away from his forehead. “I think we’ve stayed in bed long enough and Hideyoshi won’t be happy if I’m distracting his lord from his duties.”

       He groaned but let her roll away from him with a quick kiss to his jaw. She could feel his gaze on her, drinking in the sight of her, as she rose from the bed and the blankets fell away to expose her naked body. Her lips curled in a coy smile as she peered at him over her shoulder, watching the way his eyes roved over her hungrily. “Nobunaga,” she said warningly, an amused edge to her tone. “You have things to do today, a country to unite, konpeito to steal.”

       “I believe I can fit ravaging my lover into my schedule,” he replied, the blankets falling away from his bare chest as he raised himself to his elbows.

       MC snorted, pulling on her kimono and cinching it closed over her chest before reaching for her obi. “If I remember correctly, you have a council in an hour.”

       Muscular arms wrapped around her waist, undoing the progress she had made on her obi as a hot mouth descended on her neck. Biting her lip, she tried not to moan as her lover sucked at her pulse, his hand parting her kimono to cup her sex. “You don’t think I can satisfy you in an hour?” he murmured, making her shiver as he left open mouthed kisses along her neck and shoulder. A thick finger parted her folds, searching for the bundle of nerves at the apex of her thighs. 

        What he was proposing really did sound quite tempting. A little more time spent in the arms of the love of her life? She would never complain about that...except the love of her life was also a warlord whose actions would shape Japan’s feudal history, sooo…

       “Thanks, but I have things to do today that require me being able to walk.” Nobunaga grunted in disapproval when she slipped out of his arms again and bent to snatch her obi off the floor, tying it into place properly this time. His mouth was set in a sour line when MC next looked at him, glaring eyes burning a hole in the floor as he pulled his clothes on as well. 

       Biting her lip, she debated the consequences of her next words. Despite her rejection of his invitation to stay in bed a little longer, she couldn’t deny the ache of want deep inside of her, ever yearning for the one she loved. What could she say? She was weak for that adorable pout.

       “Later…” MC began and his eyes snapped to hers, the intensity in their depths startling. “If you find me, I’ll let you continue what you were doing...you know, a second ago…” Her cheeks burned as she said it, looking at him through her lashes as a hungry grin broke across his face.

       “Is that an invitation to play a game, fireball?” It seemed she’d awakened the competitive side of him, the part that played any game to dominate and win, and he’d decided she was the prize.

       “M-Maybe.”

       “Then I accept.” Donning his white haori with a flourish, a shiver went down her spine as Nobunaga’s red stare pinned her in place, his presence wrapping around her even though he stood across the room. She saw his muscles bunch a second before she realized what was about to happen, and ducked through the door just as his arms closed around the empty space where she had been standing a second before.

       “Nobunaga!” she half giggled, half screamed his name as she escaped down the hall, his booming laughter echoing after her. Her heart was still pounding when she reached the seamstress’ hall and she cupped her blushing cheeks in her hands, taking a few deep breaths to calm herself, before opening the door.

       What was left of the morning went by without incident, but thoughts of Nobunaga and their little game lingered at the back of MC’s mind. For the first few hours, she startled every time the door opened or someone called her name, but her jumpiness wore off as the day continued, slowly blending into afternoon. 

       Maybe he really was too busy to make good on his determination to win? No, that wasn’t like him at all. Whatever it was, her guard dropped bit by bit, making his first attack that much more surprising when it finally did come.

       She was walking around the corner, going through a bundle of letters that needed to be delivered, when hot breath tickled her ear, making her squeak as a tongue licked the shell. “You’ve left yourself open, fireball.”

       Without a glance, she bolted, racing down the hall and making erratic turns down the winding corridors. A couple of times, MC swore she could feel his heat at her back, his arms closing around her, but when she finally stopped, out of breath and exhilarated, Nobunaga was nowhere to be seen. 

       Exhaling slowly, she leaned against the wall, a hand to her racing heart. He was more serious about this than she’d thought, using the same tact and patience she had experienced firsthand during their games of strip go. It was his plan to leave her alone until she had let her guard down, until she wasn’t expecting him to make a move. 

       Peeking back around the corner, MC took a deep breath, biting back a smile. If he was going to be serious, then so was she.

       The rest of the afternoon was spent in a careful game of hide n’ seek. She knew she probably looked strange sneaking around the hallways, but she didn’t have much choice if she was going to successfully evade her observant boyfriend. Hiding away in her room all day wasn’t an option, not when she had work to do, and besides, Nobunaga would find her all too easily if she stayed in one place. 

       More than once, she had to dodge his wandering hands reaching to capture her when she passed an open door. A couple of times she swore she felt his hawk-like gaze, watching her as she spoke with one of the other warlords or scampered across an open courtyard. It seemed no matter how careful she was, he always knew where she was or where she was going next, and the chase thrilled her, her thighs rubbing together at the thought of what awaited her when he did catch her. 

       The game finally started winding towards its resolution when MC went out into town to order more fabric to be delivered to the castle. Her usual seller had gotten a new shipment of fabrics and she had immediately become enraptured by the new colors and dye patterns. It wouldn’t hurt to relax a little, she figured. There was no way Nobunaga could seek her all day and keep up with his workload.

       She was speaking with the salesman and trying to decide between two different patterns when she saw his eyes focus over her shoulder, a respectful smile stretching his weathered cheeks. Her head turned to see what, who, he was looking at, but a hard body pressed against hers from behind before she could, wrapping her in a familiar embrace. 

       “Have all of the items she’s looked at sent to the castle.” Nobunaga’s breath teased her hair as he spoke, obvious satisfaction in his tone as he said, lower, “Found you, fireball.”

       The salesman clasped his hands in front of him, bowing. “As you wish, my lord. Your lady has impeccable taste as always.”

       “I would expect nothing less,” Nobunaga purred, his grip tightening even though she had no way to escape even if she wanted to. 

       MC wanted to ask him how he’d found her, how he’d managed to be one step behind her all day, but she waited until he’d arranged payment for the fabric and taken her hand to lead her through the busy streets, headed for the outskirts of the city. The sun was sinking below the horizon when they finally emerged on a grassy field, the sky darkening above them. 

       “How did you know where I was?” she asked as his pace eased to a stroll through the tall grass.

       Nobunaga chuckled, his hand squeezing hers. “You didn’t think I’d know your schedule by now? I’ve been following you all day.”

       Her steps halted and she frowned at him as he looked down at her in amusement. “Then you could have ended the game anytime!”

       “I could’ve, but it was more fun this way,” he laughed. His dark hair looked aflame as his figure eclipsed the setting sun, red eyes glowing with triumph in the dim, and his voice resounded with dominance. “You should know what happens now.”

       Breathless, she nodded, her gaze dropping to the shadow of his smirking lips.

       Closing the distance between them so they stood chest to chest, his words rumbled through her with a force like thunder when he spoke. “I found you.”

       Her tongue darted out to wet her lips.“You did.”

       His hands brushed up her arms, her body relaxing into his touch, and soft grass met her back as Nobunaga pulled her down. The commanding lines of his face softened tenderly as he hovered over her, his smirk losing its edge. “So now I get to claim my prize.”

       Gentle lips met hers in a loving caress a heartbeat later, so different from his usual hunger, and her arms wrapped around him to hug him closer. His body pressed hers into the ground as MC sighed into his mouth, longing for more. “I want to propose another game,” he murmured against her lips when they parted for air. 

       “Another?” she asked as his fingers fisted in her hair, tugging her head to the side to expose her neck. “What kind of game?”

       “A scavenger hunt,” he replied, the tip of his nose tracing the column of her throat. “I win if I find all of the spots that bring you the most pleasure.” She gasped as he nipped at her earlobe, sending a shiver down her spine. “What do you think?”

       “Mm~! I accept!”

       He smiled against her pulse, his hands falling to her obi. “Good.” 

       The last orange sliver of the sun disappeared under the horizon as her kimono fell open, exposing her bare skin to the cool night air. Her body arched into his touch as his hands cupped her breasts, his thumbs flicking her hardening nipples, and a hot tongue licked across her collarbone as he nipped and bit his way to the sensitive spot on the side of her neck.

       Nobunaga purred in satisfaction as she moaned, tilting her head to the side in a silent plea for more. “Here.” Teeth closed around the first spot hard, and she cried out as the pain and pleasure shot straight to her core, her thighs clenching in a desperate attempt for friction. Kissing the bright mark he’d made, he moved to her breasts next, kissing the heaving swells before enveloping a nipple between his lips.

       MC pressed a palm to her mouth as he sucked, his tongue swirling around the hardened peak as he found yet another of her sweet spots. Her inner thighs were already sticky with her wetness, a hot pulse filling her body. When he pulled away, a string of saliva connected her reddened nipple to his lips, the sight so erotic she clenched around nothing, suddenly unbearably empty.

       Grabbing her hand away from her mouth, he brought her fingertips to his lips and gave them a few harsh nips. “Don’t muffle your sounds,” he ordered, “I want to hear how good I’m making you feel.”

       Holding eye contact, his hands moved to untie his kimono, baring chiseled pecs and abs to her lustful gaze as it trailed lower, following the path of his v-line. She whimpered as his cock sprang to attention, thick and red and pulsing with the need to plow into her, and Nobunaga smirked at her thirst.

       “Patience. I haven’t finished finding every one of your sweet spots yet,” he grunted, caressing and groping down her body. Taking her foot in his hand, his eyes fell shut as he placed a kiss to her toe in homage to the beginning of their relationship. Soft giggles wracked her form as his mouth ghosted across her ankle and up the inside of her leg, his hands smoothing over her thighs and spreading them. 

       A second later, MC gasped as his teeth sank into the supple skin of her inner thigh, her legs closing around his head instinctively. “Here,” he breathed, kissing the new mark he left behind. His gaze flicked to hers as she peered down at him through half-lidded eyes and her heart stuttered as his breath fanned against her core, coming close but never close enough.

       “Nobunaga…!” she pleaded as he teased her, writhing in his hold. 

       He chuckled, looking all too pleased with himself as she begged for him. “Don’t fret.” His hands wrenched her thighs wider, spreading her open for him. “I fully intend to give you more pleasure than you can handle.”

       MC cried out as his mouth descended on her, licking a long strip up her slit. Her fingers tangled in his dark locks as his hands dug into her hips, tugging her closer as he slurped noisily. His moans vibrated through her trembling body as his nose nuzzled her clit and she nearly came when his tongue plunged inside of her, drinking her like a man dying of thirst and she was the finest thing he had ever tasted. 

       “So sensitive,” he growled, rubbing his aching erection against her leg. His lips and chin glistened with her arousal as he panted, brow furrowed. “I can’t get enough of your taste.”

       He ate her out so ravenously it wasn’t long before she couldn’t take much more, the coil in her lower belly winding tighter with each greedy suck. “Nobunaga, I’m-!...It’s too much!” she warned, shutting her eyes tight.

       A hand cupped her cheek, urging her to look at him, and she felt another wave of desire soak her folds as she beheld her Adonis of a lover. “Don’t close your eyes,” he demanded, sinking back between her legs. “I want you to watch me while I pleasure you.”

       Fingers trailed along her slit, circling the bundle of nerves at the apex of her thighs before sinking two digits into her heat. Soft mewls fell from her lips as she rolled her hips against his hand, his fingers curling and scissoring within her and his thumb pressed on her clit. The whole time she obeyed his order to watch, unable to tear her eyes away as he prepared her for his cock..

       “Nobunaga…” she panted, tugging his hair. “Mmh!...I’m close! Feels so good!” The calloused pads of his fingers curled against the spot inside of her that sent sparks dancing through her limbs and MC screamed his name as her orgasm suddenly crashed over her. 

       “That’s it, come all over my fingers,” he husked against her thigh, watching her entrance flutter around his fingers. “I’m going to give you so much more. You won’t know any name but mine by the time I’m finished.”

       She whimpered as his fingers left her, laying limp against the grass as he moved to hover over her. Biting her lip, she trembled as his cock parted her folds, the engorged head prodding her oversensitive heat. Her back arched as Nobunaga slipped into her pliant body, looking every inch her virile Demon King as he pulled back to slam in again. His hands laced with hers and her legs wrapped around his waist as he rutted into her, his angle changing to reach spots that had her clenching around him. 

       His length reached so deep she swore she saw stars, and for a second she thought it was her vision playing tricks on her from the immense feeling of him thrusting into her, but when it happened again and again, filling the sky above her, she gasped. “N-Nobunaga!...Ha...Look!”

       “I’d much rather ravish my Venus than look at the stars right now,” he grunted and MC almost missed his invocation of the foreign goddess’ name.

       “Your...Venus?”

       His hand stroked her blushing cheek, brushing strands of sweaty hair from her skin. She couldn’t have known how she appeared to him, breasts heaving and skin flushed with want in the moonlight as he claimed her. “You - ngh! - You said she was the goddess of beauty.” His mouth attached to her neck, leaving kisses between his words. “Of love.” Another kiss. “Of prosperity.” A hard thrust that had her fingers digging into his back. “Correct?”

       “Y-Yes.”

       “And...am I correct in assuming...there’s more to her definition?” Her eyes closed as his body pressed down hard against hers, pinning her in place as his thrusts turned rougher. “Desire.” The tip of his cock brushed the sweet spot deep inside of her, his name falling from her lips on a scream. “Fertility.” He angled to hit the spot again, hard body grinding against her softer form.  “Victory.” 

       She nodded along to his words, feeling her second climax of the evening approaching. “Yes.” Her legs tightened around him, desperate for more. “Yes, yes, yes!”

       “When I picture such a goddess...all I can think about is you.” 

       She didn’t have time to simper over the meaning behind his words. MC screamed his name as Nobunaga slammed into her, throwing his head back with a muffled roar. His hips continued to thrust shallowly as he released inside of her, warming her core with hot spurts of white. She almost missed it when he continued, his voice raw, “You’ve brought me all of those things and more.” Desperate kisses fell across her face, barely felt through the pulsing stimulation. “So, so much more.”

       He pulled her into his arms as he collapsed next to her, her head resting against his chest. Her whole body felt pleasantly warm, safe in the arms of her love, and a smile curled lazily at her lips as she felt his lips plant a kiss to her hair.

       “Shooting stars,” he mumbled, and she opened her eyes to see that the sky was indeed still streaked with the tiny lights. It was beautiful, but as her gaze settled on Nobunaga she found that she liked looking at him much more, the lines of his face soft with wonder as he watched the stars.

       “I love you.” They blinked at each other as they spoke the words at the same time and a heartbeat later they chuckled, snuggling closer. Comfortable silence settled over them as they basked in the afterglow of their lovemaking, until Nobunaga grasped her hips, suddenly flipping their positions.

       MC gasped his name, wide-eyed as he brought her to straddle him, hardening dick prodding her entrance. He only cocked his head innocently, chuckling at her expression. “Why so surprised? I accepted another game earlier, didn’t I? I don’t think I found all of your sweet spots earlier and as your lover, I need to thoroughly pleasure my goddess.”

[starr-fall-knight-rise]

HASO “One of Five.”

Really enjoying writing this arc, so I hope you all like it. 

“Agreed compensation awarded to the Steel eye survivors includes 10 billion dollars in funding for the Machinaw rehabilitation center and its residents for the use in maintenance, housing, cost of living, medical support: including psychological services as well as housing and assistance if those residents are ever to leave on their own. This will also include compensation to the families of those who died during testing or the war. Furthermore, the surviving members of steel eye outside of the Machinaw rehabilitation center will also be awarded an additional 5 million for pain and suffering which includes the cost of future medical bills and psychological services.”

Adam sat back in his seat and blinked a little surprised.

Lucky bastards.

Wait…

Admiral Kelly turned to look at him mouthing the words, “Nice.”

He blinked stupidly for a second before realising, “Do they mean me.” 

Admiral Kelly snorted quickly, “You are a surviving member of steel eye aren't you?”

“Oh yeah, forgot about that.”

She patted him on the back as the judges stood.

“The Geneva court awards these rulings and will be reinforcing ethical guidelines to biotechnology and bio splicing technology the ruling of which will be announced at a later date after a committee hearing has had time to meet on the subject. The sentencing for those tried in the court today begins effective immediately. The judges stood, and there was a loud clattering as the rest of the chamber stood with them, “This meeting is henceforth adjourned,and the ruling stands. Appeals may be made in a year after sentencing.” 

Adam took a very deep breath, feeling the air pass from his lungs out in a sharp burst.

Admiral Kelly patted him on the shoulder squeezing lightly as he took another deep breath, “Think you’re going to be alright?”

“Yeah, I’m alright.”

“I was worried about you a couple times there.”

He smiled ruefully, me too. At his feet, the dog whined and he absently patted her on the head.

Taking stock of himself, he decided that he was feeling pretty good all things considered. Waffles whined again and he patted her again absently, “You probably need to go outside, don’t you.”

She whimpered, and he took that as an agreement.

Admiral Kelly walked with him from the courtroom greeting people and making small talk as they went. It was forced normalcy after all the things they had been forced to witness in the past few days, but at least they were trying, and he was feeling pretty good, almost high. 

Luckily it seemed to be the kind of high that you didn’t come crashing down from. He had survived the entire court case without once breaking out into a PTSD attack. It had come close a few times, but he had done it, he had survived, and he had helped win the compensation for his fellow steel eyes soldiers. If he could do that, there was no telling what he was he could do.

It almost didn’t feel real.

“Are you feeling well enough to join a few of us for dinner tonight, Admiral.”

He glanced over at Admiral Kelly, and nodded, “I think that is something I can do, just let me go and drop Waffles off at the hotel and I will meet you.”

“You’re not bringing her…. She’s a service dog so they have to let her in.”

He waved a hand dismissively, “It's alright, it's been a long day for the both of us, and I am sure she would rather relax somewhere quiet than spend time in a noisy restaurant surrounded by the smell of food she can’ have.”

They stopped outside onto the lawn and he looked down at the dog expecting her to begin sniffing around for a nice patch of grass, but instead she sat at his feet and stared at him, her ears alert, her eyes fixed on him. When he made eye contact with her, she shifted forward whimpering softly to get his attention.

Admiral Kelly looked down in confusion right along with him, “Is she ok?”

He shook his head in confusion, “I have no idea…. She’s presenting like she does while I have an episode, but I feel fine…. Better than fine.”

Admiral Kelly looked at him in concern, “Do you want someone to escort you back to the hotel?”

“No i think I am alright to take myself. I need to relax anyway, and a rail ride would allow me to see the city before dinner.”

Just then Dr. Krill floated his way down the steps and stopped beside him, “That was…. Horrific.”

“Yeah, well now its over and its time to think about food.”

“How very human of you.” Krill sighed, floating with him towards the end of the walk

She lifted her chin and nodded allowing him to walk off with waffles. One of the drivers stopped to speak with him, but he declined a ride and instead headed over to the rail. Krill on the other hand did accept an invitation to the car, and Adam parted with a wave before waiting patiently as a sleek white rail rolled up beside him. Waffles whimpered again, and he looked down to find her pressed up against his leg with big wide eyes staring up at him, nearly runnin into the train door because she wasn’t paying attention to anything else.

He frowned and patted her head as they stepped on.

She squeezed herself between his knees and the sea in front of him as he sat winning softly, “What is your deal today, dog.” He wondered tapping on his wrist and linking it to his implant. The call rang for a second before the other end of the line picked up.

“Hey Doc, is everyone in.”

“Yeah, you’re on speaker.” In the background he could hear the shifting and the coughing of the other steel eye soldiers as they sat in baited breath in their seats.

“We won.”

Muffled hearing in the background.

“We won, and 10 billion is going to you in settlement for pretty much all life expenses for the rest of forever.”

More Cheering and shocked stammering from the doctor.”

“Also a nice little sum for myself…. Don’t know if I’ll keep it though. Anyway, just thought you all should know.”

Waffles whined again, and he patted her ears.

They spoke for a few more seconds when the doctor suddenly grew serious again, “And admiral… how are you feeling.”

Adam smiled, “t was rough, not going to lie, but I am feeling pretty good right now. Better than I expected to feel. Hold on doctor, I will have to hang up in a minute. My stop is coming up.”

The doctor paused, but let it pass, and he hung up as he was stepping off the rail into the heart of the city.

He felt as light as a feather as he walked down the street, his head spinning lightly from the exaltation of surviving the day. Waffles bumped into his side and stepped on his feet multiple times. He nudged her to the side with his leg, “Calm down would you.”

The hotel was approaching just along the street, and he was greeted by a friendly clerk who smiled and waved as he walked into the lobby and headed up to his room. He stepped inside and moved over to change sighing as he finally crawled out of his uncomfortable uniform and into his preferred outfit.

Jeans and T-shirt.

There was no need for his jacket, which he left hanging on the bedpost.

He sat down with Waffles for a few minutes, holding her head between his hands and stroking his hand over her large, pointed ears which hse lay flat against her skull, closing her eyes and beating her tail against the floor.

“You worry too much, you know that.”

Her fur was soft against his hands, “When Krill gets back from sightseeing, don’t eat him, alright.”

She liked his hand and he laughed, standing and walking towards the door.

As soon as he moved however, she leaped up to follow him, stepping on his foot again.

He frowned at her, “Waffles, no.”

He pointed towards the floor beside the couch, “Lay down.”

She didn’t budge.

He was surprised.

She never disobeyed a command, never.

Is brows knitted together and he pointed more hardly at the spot of rug, “Go lay down.” his voice was strong and unyielding. She backed away a few steps but didn’t do as ordered.

He was a bit annoyed now not understanding what her issue was, “I said Lay down”

She lay down, but it was in the spot she was currently sitting.

He shook his head, “I will deal with you when I get back because I have no idea what has gotten into you.”

He turned and walked towards the door ordering her to ‘stay’ as she left.

This time she did as told, though the whimpering and whining grew louder as he made his way towards the door.

“Sleep it off, girl.” he said as he closed the door and stepped out onto the hall. Her whimpering faded behind him in the distance.

He felt good ,

Granted, of course he loved his dog, but,sometimes, she was a reminder to him of his weaknesses. It was good t get out there by himself, and stepping onto the street he raised his head to suck in a lungful of air, completely alone. Being on the Omen, it was hard to get his time away. It always felt like someone was watching him, babysitting him. Sometimes it was hard to feel like an adult.

Despite being the commander for the largest space armada in human history… the only space armada in human history.

He still often felt like he was being supervised.

He continued his way down the sidewalk following directions on his implant to the assigned restaurant.

The sun was just beginning to sink below the horizon, and he was simply enjoying feeling the warm breeze on his skin.

He would be a  little bit early, but that was alright, he was sure he could find an outdoor table somewhere and just bask in the setting sun. Either that or he could find a bakery or something and find himself a pre-dinner snack.

Either one worked for him though the snack was starting to sound more appealing.

He took a step around the next corner just as the setting sun spilled downward into a grouping of clouds. The clouds luminesced and then burst into sparkling tones of red, which momentarily blinded him. He threw up a hand against the beam of light. Just to his left, a hover car was forced to let off its emergency air break, which came out as a sharp hiss of air from the front of the vehicle.

All sound was sucked from the world.

Replaced second later  by a high pitched keening.

Lights passed over him, shadows from people walking just to his right.

Red light spilled past tem and onto his face.

He took another step, and the ground and stone jolted up through his steel eye leg and into stump.

He heard the sharp hiss of the suit as it churned to life, hungry and rpeditory, ready for a fight.

The red light faded, obscured by a shadow.

He could feel the ash against his skin as he passed through, the particles plastering against his skin and stinging at his eyes.

He held up a hand, watching as the servos on his forearm moved with his hand.

A plate of metal covered the back of his hand, as well as the casings that held his fingertips and protected his knuckles.

Stone thudded under his feet.

He spun around in confusion, hands up and ready for a fight. Ash and red mist swirled around him. He spun again, his heart hammering, his head foggy. Ash whipped at his face, he held up a hand to cover his eyes.

Where was he!

How did he get here! Where as his platoon.

His brain was foggy and slow, all he saw was blac shadows in the mist around them. He tracked them with his eye zeroing in on them like  targeting system. He reached down for a gun that wasn’t there.

He was unarmed 

Unarmed aside from the suit.

And he had no idea where he was.

He spun around again, tracking one of the shadows as it moved forward at him through the mist.

A shape, a massive shape with too many arms raced towards him from the red.

He lept back swinging violently out with his hand to stop the blow coming down from above.

The blow never came, and fearing for what might come next he dodged to the side an racked into the ash keeping one hand up over his face. He heard the garbled words of Drev as they rose up around him.

He turned sprinting through a gully of rocks, trying as hard as he could to get away from the voices. The Steel eye suit whirred and hissed below him as h leaped over rocks and dove through shadows sprinting as fast as he could.

The whirring from the prosthetic leg was loud inside his head.

His other leg burned and throbbed in pain.

Oh nooooo, no, no not now, not this pain, not now.

He imagined he could feel the pain creeping up his spine.

It must be the bo, was he missing the box?

He looked down at his chest and stomach to where the black box should have been, but found nothing other than the steel vise of the steel eye suit. Oh no, the painkillers were fading off. His leg began to throb more and more as he ra.

He could imagine the pain racing up his legs ad into his body as the medicine wore off.

He spun in circles hands to his head trying to find an escape. Great pillars of rock rose up on either side of him. Red mist swirled around him.

Ash pelted athis ski.

In a panic, he raced off in another direction, stumbling and flailing as the pain roared up through his human leg.

They were chasing him, he could hear voices calling out behind him… the Drev coming for him.

He sped up and continued his race forward, breath coming in ragged gasps. He was going as fast as he could, as fast as the steel eye suit could, but somehow they were still gaining on him.

Before him, the mist parted, he could see the edge, a small cliff-face where the rock dropped down about thirty feet.

That is where he could lose them.

He broke into a dead sprint, the steel eye whirring along with his movements.

Drev battlecries behind him, and he jumped.

The ground rose up to meet him, and with a thunderous crash he staggered forward, the prosthetic taking most of the impact.

The throbbing in his left leg grew exponentially worse, he cried out in pain but continued running knowing that the steel eye suit would operate no matter how broken his body was. He just needed to fight back the pain for long enough…. Long enough for someone to find him. The voices were fading now, and the large pillars of rock had moved further into the distance.

He sprinted down the center, feeling his feet clatter  over moss and rock.

Pain shot up through his hip and into his pelvis.

He slowed to a halt dropping to his knee with the pain. He gritted his teeth and screamed in agony as the fire went rolling up his nerves and into his body. He had to keep going, he had to keep going. He staggered to his feet, the suit letting off a disjointed clattering. He could feel where it burrowed into his skin, latched onto him like some sort of sick parasite.

He wanted nothing more than to tear it off, but he knew he couldn’t.

He had to get to somewhere safe.

He cut left across open ground and towards the monoliths of rock. Maybe he could lose them in there. He darted inward his knee crying out in pain, the ball joint of his hip screaming. The pain leaked up into his abdomen, into his stomach and up into the lumbar region of his spine.

He thought he could hear more voices behind him, but stopped.

Dead end.

He was blocked, and it was too high to jump.

Just a narrow wall of rock between him and the other side. He could still hear the steel eye whirring, and whirring louder now that he was thinking about escape. He couldn’t go back the way he had come.

There was only one way to go.

Forward.

The steel eye was powerful…. Powerful enough to break stone.

He turned, backed up and then ran, pelting full tilt towards the small wall of stone the steel eye whirring around him, pain throbbing up through his limbs. He lowered his shoulder, tucked his head and….

Excruciating pain.

The whirring of the steel eye armor cut off as he was repelled backward, thrown to his back with a painful crunch. He lay on his back in a shattered heap, looking up at the sky, watching ash roll around him, a whirling mist of red. Small particles pelted against his face, but then…. Dripped down his cheek.

That…. Wasn’t right.

As he lay there the sky above darkened. The red haze that had covered everything faded away

Black clouds hung overhead.

Small drops of drizzle fell from the sky, and the buildings that made up the alleyway he was in rose around him.

He lay on the ground in the metal scraps and refuse.

The rain picked up landing on his cheeks and dripping down towards his ears.

When he moved, there was no whirring.

He wasn’t wearing the steel eye suit.

But he was in so much pain.

He could have gotten up….maybe

Crawled his way to help.

But he just… couldnt.

Not anymore.

He closed his eyes, and relinquished his hold on reality.

He didn’t want it anyway.

***

He spun the cigarette between his fingers ignoring the occasional dirty look he received from passers by. yeah , yeah, he was trying to quit. It was actually pretty inconvenient to be a smoker in the 41st century. Soon the no smoking ads were going to get personal as he became the last man on earth to imbibe cancer sticks.

They could keep their noses out of his business.

Everyone had a vice.

Besides, he didn’t smoke that much, thanks to his wife, but it was a habit he had picked up during the war to keep himself calm in tense situations, and it was a habit he found hard to break. Some people bit their nails, some people picked at their fingers, some people pulled their hair.

He smoked.

His left knee began to ache, and he turned his head towards the sky. Looked like rain.

Felt like rain.

Tasted like rain. 

He reached down to rub his aching knee. 

Stopping outside the door, he noticed the conspicuous no smoking sign, and tucked the cigarette into his shirt pocket, shouldering open the door, and into the dimly lit restaurant, crowded with people and filled with a cacophony of voices. 

A hostess noticed him and smiled, “How many?” she asked 

He shook his head, “here to meet some friends, big party of eight or so”

“Oh yes, they are just back here.” She said motioning him forward, he followed after her through the dim interior and back towards where a group of men and women in casual dress were sitting around a table eating and drinking. Though they were dressed casually, he could tell by their bearing, straight backs and quick eyes, that they were soldiers before anything else.

They noticed him coming pretty early on and smiled.

Admiral Kelly waved him over.

He came to stop by, “Admiral.” He said, nodding.”

“Lindsay.”

He turned to look at the rest of the table, who leaned forward slightly to get a better look at them.

“WHose your friend.” one of the others asked Kelly.

She motioned him to sit in one of the remaining chairs, and he did so, “Everyone this is Kier Lindsay, an old friend here for the trial.”

One of the other men leaned back, “The trial, you have family in the program or something?”

A smile twitched at the corner of his mouth, “Something like that.”

A waiter passed by pouring him a glass of water and he thanked them before they headed off. Reaching out to take the glass, he noticed the other men and women’s eyes as they fell on his hand, and the scars there.

“You?”

He nodded, “Yeah, me, still trying to figure out how to hide my newly awarded 5 million from extended family members.”

Kelly snorted, “he’s one of the five functional members of steel eye, and the old bastard seems to be doing pretty well all things considered.”

His mind turned back to the cigarette in his pocket.

“How was the trial for you? Seemed to be pretty hard on Vir.”

He shrugged, “Seen worse, experienced worse.” He leaned back in his seat, “Other than an overwhelming desire to chain smoke my way through earths last remaining cigarette supply, I did pretty well.” he glanced around the table, “Where is admiral vir anyway.”

Kelly shrugged, “he was dropping his dog off at the hotel before heading over.”

“Hmm…. wanted to talk to him. Boy seemed…..”

“Shaken up.”

“To put it mildly. I just wanted to introduce myself. He did a good job all things considered. Made me a bit smug when he told that lawyer to STFU.”

“He has his moments.”

Lindsay looked towards the door frowning slightly. It shouldn’t have taken the man that long to head back to the hotel. The city wasn’t that big, and its not like admiral Vir had a reputation for being late. Yeah Lindsay knew a little bit about him; he liked to keep an eye on the kid -- in a not so creepy way-- it was good to see other members of steel eye making it big.

But….

He took a few minutes and had a few drinks before setting his glass down and standing up.

“Where are you going?”

He smiled and patted his shirt pocket, “To shorten my lifespan a few years. Please excuse me.”

They waved him off, and he stepped outside.

It was beginning to rain.

And the sun was just about setting.

He stepped into the rain, not caring about the wet. It felt good. Anything that reminded him he was alive felt good.

His little girl had taught him that.

She loved the rain.

Now, which way was that hotel?

He followed his feet along the pavement. No harm done in looking. If the man was on his way, they would probably run into each other, but…. something … call it human intuition told him that it wasn’t that easy.

He was just making his way up the nearest street when he heard something… odd.

Barking.

And the patter of paws on the ground just ahead of him. He squinted into the darkness and then leaped aside eyes wide as the German Shepherd charged from the darkness, ears pressed back against it’s skull. For a second he thought it was coming after him, but then it blew past him.

In that split second, he turned his head, and made eye contact with the alien gripping the animal’s collar, being dragged along like some sort of twisted children’s balloon.

That was  Admiral Vir’s service dog.

A second later he had broken into an almost  dead sprint after the two of them.

He was going to fall behind.

But then the Iron eye prosthetics whirred to life.

His feet thundered over the ground as he flew through the streets behind the dog. She wasn’t going as fast as she possibly could, tracking at the same time she ran, so he ended up catching up to her.

Metal clattered against pavement.

He was going to need a new pair of shoes.

The alien stared at him.

“Where is Admiral Vir!” He shouted through gasping breaths.

“I don’t know!.” The alien squeaked a little bit as the dog leaped over a bench, cutting around a corner and skidding to a halt before an overpass drop.

He nearly flipped himself over the edge, just catching himself before taking a nosedive.

The dog whimpered and paced back and forth.

Lindsay peered over the edge of the overpass to the ground…. Where a line of webbed cracks was evident on the concrete.

“Holy shit…. He… jumped?”

The little alien followed his gaze giving a dark expression for an alien.

“But hes not there anymore.”

Lindsay kicked his legs up and over the railing, “The Steel eye leg probably saved his legs.”

He turned to look at the whimpering dog and held out his arms, “Come on girl, we can find him.”

She stared at him, but somehow, something got across and she lifted herself up on her back paws.

He grabbed the dog around her front and back, grunting slightly at her weight. She whimpered.

“What are you doing!” the alien hissed.

“Relax, its not like I can break my legs.”

He took a step forward and dropped like a stone.

He crashed into the concrete, sending up shards of the stuff outward from his impact.

The dog whimpered again, and he set her on the ground.

The alien floated down after, “You…. you are one of the steel eye soldiers.”

“Yep,”

“Both legs?”

“One above the knee and one below, just got to be careful to take the weight on the right leg or my real knee might blow out…  come on.”

The dog sniffed at the ground for a moment before pelting off in another direction.

He raced after, the alien grabbing onto his shirt at the last moment and holding on for deer life.

He cut through the rail yard and down towards a set of buildings on the side, old scrap heaps covering in tufts of grass dotting the intervening space.

She raced into the next alleyway barking.

He followed after, skidding to a halt.

“Shit.”

He trotted forward and dropped to his knees next to the body.

Adam Vir lay supine in a pool of greasy water face tilted back towards the sky. His clothing was torn. He was bleeding from his nose, and one ear. His entire right side was battered to shit and covered in abrasions. 

It was only due to the shallow movement of his chest that he knew the man was still breathing. 

[hopelessromanticvirgo]

Metro’s Crush [14]

Chapter 13

“Her husband is in jail.” 

 “Why? What did he do?” 

“Murdered a kid.” 

 “Why a kid?” 

“I have no idea. But I can feel it. I feel it in her eyes. Look how tired she is, she’s probably taking care of their kids alone.” 

“Nobody to help her?” 

“No. Her parents are dead and after her husband got arrested, his family decided to never talk to her again.” 

“Do they see and visit the grandchildren at least?” 

“No. They just disappeared.” 

Sander did a gesture with his hands which probably mimicked the word ‘disappear’ and made some kind of sound, looked at Robbe who couldn’t keep holding his laugh in and started hysterically laughing, throwing his head back, softly punching Sander’s right hand in the process. People looked at him weirdly but he didn’t care. 

He didn’t care about anything.

They are on the metro, for how many hours already, Robbe can’t remember. They have been riding it back and forth. Sitting on the same spot, talking.

Sander has been doing his usual “what’s their story” game, looking at some strangers’ face and outfits, their mood and trying to guess or make up their life story about them, telling crazy scenarios in Robbe’s ear, making him laugh and shiver. 

Sander just finished talking about a divorced man and how he was ill and studied abroad and now he changed back to the murder storyline. 

“You’re unbelievable.” Robbe looked at him with a soft look on his face, admiring and loving every word or joke Sander said.

They just went on their first date, which went better than Robbe would have imagined, they sat down on a cute, little, quiet cafe and drank some coffee and as usual, after some time, like their habit, they decided to come back to the metro.

That was hours ago and now, Robbe was only listening to Sander’s silvery voice and was watching closely to his body language. 

Sander would get so concentrated and determined about this fake stories he makes up, that it was almost funny. How he’d try to think so hard about what’s bothering the person he was describing, like he was really looking into their souls to find out what they have going on behind their faces. 

And Robbe loved every single of those stories and he always listens so carefully to them, trying to connect with Sander as best and as much as he possibly can while relaxing in his seat, but today he just can’t sit still, something is bothering him and he knows exactly what it is.

Robbe hasn’t touched him enough today. 

He found out that Sander doesn’t like Robbe touching him that much. He thought he was imagining it at first but after a while, when Sander would try to get his hand free a few times when Robbe would hold it, but he’d brushed it off like it was nothing and it was an accident, Robbe realized that he couldn’t touch Sander a lot and that thought made him more upset than he’d admit. 

He wants so badly to hold his hand, or to touch his face, his hair, his skin.

Everything Sander would allow him to touch.

But even if he can’t touch him all the time, he pleasures the moment when the other boy is allowing him to show affection. And Robbe takes his chances each and every time that happens. 

Robbe also always wants to impress the boy, so he tries to get himself included in their little games, or Sander’s game to be specific. 

“You see that girl over there?” Robbe finally got a chance to sit closer to him after Sander went and moved away from him a little bit just a moment ago, their thighs now touching each other, put his head closer to him, turned it towards his ear and started whispering in his ear after he pointed on the girl he was talking about with his eyes. Sander nodded, throwing him a side glance.

“I think she’s an artist.” 

 “What makes you think that?” Sander asks, clearly more interested now after Robbe mentioned his hobby.

“Well, see that boots she has. It has a red paint on it.” Robbe’s tone changed into amusing, his voice became narrative. 

“It could be blood.” Sander smirked and slowly whispered it to him, looking at him which made Robbe roll his eyes. 

“Can’t you stop? Your serial killer story is over now. Let me talk.” 

Let me impress you. 

Let me make you laugh. 

Let me admire you.

Let me touch you. 

Let me love you. 

Just let me.

Sander nodded his head but didn’t say anything else, looked in front of him. 

Robbe decided to take his chance of being this close to his body and touched his hand which Sander kept under his bag, sitting on his knees. The boy noticed and looked over at him but kept being silent, didn’t make a sound, which made Robbe intertwine their fingers together, holding it tight, afraid to let it go. Afraid that Sander would make him let go of it again.

“I think she’s about to sell her first work. Look how she fidgeting? She’s nervous. She needs other people’s approval. I think her dad loves her younger sibling more and she always does everything to make him see that she’s talented, that she’s enough but it never works. He just treats her like a problem, somebody who tries too hard but never succeeds. And now she’s going to show her art to the judges, she’s making her first independent choice and she’s terrified. She hopes to take care of her self alone but she needs people. Everybody needs people in the end. And she hopes that they will like it, so she can finally feel like her own self, so she can finally feel that she’s doing a good job, so that she can finally feel that she matters.” Robbe didn’t realize how carefully Sander was listening to his every word, how quiet he got, how his smirk dropped. 

They stayed silent for some time but then Sander turned his head towards Robbe and kissed his cheek, which made Robbe look at him up and down surprised. 

“What did I do to deserve that?” He asked. 

“You didn’t have to do anything.” Sander whispered against his face, his breath hitting Robbe’s skin, making goosebumps appear on his body.

“I want to sell my drawings too you know?” He said after some time. Robbe hummed, and his whole body completely froze when he felt Sander getting closer to him and putting his head on his shoulder. 

Robbe felt the warmth going though in all of his muscles and kissed the top of Sander’s head, putting his arm around his shoulder.

Robbe felt a lot of emotions, emotions he can’t describe but loves but there were some things Robbe didn’t feel.

Robbe didn’t feel Sander shivering and shaking after the gesture. 

Didn’t feel how his heart started beating so fast that he felt like he’d choke on his breath. 

Didn’t feel a cold sweat going down on his back.

Didn’t feel the void sounds and voices whispering horrible things in his head.

Robbe didn’t feel that at all.

* * *

They didn’t notice how fast the time passed and how they were all alone in the cabin. 

They have been joking around all day long, making each other laugh, teasing and touching one another. But when they do noticed the environment around them, it was already a little too late. 

Suddenly, while calming down from another laughing session, Robbe looked around and his eyes went wide. They were completely alone, the train was still moving but he couldn’t see anybody. 

“What time is it?” He asked but Sander didn’t understand what he meant at first.

“It’s our time.” He joked and smiled and no matter how cute Robbe thought he was acting at that moment, he shook his head. 

“No, I’m serious.” He took his phone out and looked at the time. It was 23:45.

“Fuck.” He breathed out. “I didn’t realize so much time has passed.” 

Sander looked at Robbe’s screen too and when he realized what was happening, the color of his face changed, his skin got white and he looked terrified. 

“Shit, where are we?” He started looking around but of course, there was no way to tell where they were, they were underground, in the tunnel. 

And they waited for the next stop to come and when it did, it was clear where they were. Sander’s station was left behind them and Robbe’s stop was in two stations. 

“Don’t worry, we won’t get stuck in here.” Robbe reassured him but he was also nervous, probably because it’s was late and nobody knew where he was, his mom also must have been so worried. 

“It’s closing in 15 minutes.” Sander said strictly and Robbe almost whinced at the tone he used. 

“And we will be on my stop in 6 minutes.” He said carefully and started looking around at the empty seats.

He couldn’t help but a part of him was very excited with the thought of them being together in here, completely alone. He’d give anything, would probably sell his soul to be in this situation with Sander two years ago, even a few weeks ago too. Something never changes but the world does and here they were, next to each other and Robbe looked away and put his head on his shoulder to hide his little smile.

The train finally stopped and they got off. They looked at each other and around, saw how there was only one or two person in the horizon, going on their ways. They had a long stairs to walk up to. 

“Which way?” Sander asked, since the tunnel after the stairs where divided in to ways. 

 “Left.” Robbe said and then he looked at the time again. 

“Babe.” Sander called and when Robbe looked up at him, he didn’t give him any warning or time, he started running up the stairs. 

“Wait. What?” Robbe yelled after him and followed. 

Their laughs and the sounds of feet hitting the ground were echoed in the whole place, Robbe managed to hold Sander’s hand while they were both running which almost made him fall down the stairs but Sander caught him right on time and before they knew, they were running on the tunnel, towards the exit. 

“Fuck, wait, stop.” Robbe’s legs betrayed him and he made Sander stop with him, both of them breathing unevenly and fast. 

“I thought you were an active kid.” Sander joked but it was clear how tired he also got from their run. Robbe only shot him an annoying look, bended over on his knees, trying to calm down his racing heart. 

But his pulse wasn’t rapid only because of this, it was about to burst out from being this close to Sander. Robbe would never get over how one day he was weeping about the reality of never seeing this boy ever again and now, how fast they became a thing and how he was seeing him every other day and how easy all of this was.

It felt like a dream, a dream he’d never want to wake up from.

After a minute or two, Robbe got up on his feet, and looked at Sander standing there, breathless, his cheeks red, his hair messy, his bag, which he dropped on the floor, and tried to take him all in. 

He smiled and stepped closer to him, which didn’t go unnoticed by Sander and he asked a silent question with his eyes, curios, but Robbe didn’t give him any warning, step forward until he was right in front of him. And he could see all the emotions that went on Sander’s face, confusion, understanding, nervousness. “W-what are you - ?” He started but didn’t get a chance to finish it because Robbe closed the space between them, pushed him against the wall and kissed him. 

And it felt magical, thousands of times better than anything he could ever imagined. 

Sander’s lips were soft against his but unmoving. And when Robbe was about to pull away after getting no reaction from the boy, he felt Sander pulled him closer to his body too, his hands going on his shoulders, his hand getting lost in Robbe’s hair, tugging on it, making the brunet moan and part his lips slightly which made Sander slip his tongue in. 

And Robbe felt like he was on cloud nine. His whole body started shivering, his legs became weak and he didn’t want this feeling to ever stop. 

Kind of felt like a drug. 

Kind of felt like an addict person, getting nicotine inside his body after being clear for a very long time, that rushing thought, an excitement and how he could finally sigh and breath again. 

Drugs are suppose to kill you in the end, damage you enough for you to beg for everything to stop. 

But Robbe is sure, Sander isn’t that kind of drug. 

He’s addictive but it’s a good addition.

Or that’s what Robbe thought back then. 

Maybe some addictions can’t harm you or maybe they can but you’re too oblivious to see it.

After they stopped, Sander pulled him closer, hugging him tightly and Robbe closed his eyes, enjoying every second of it but it didn’t last long, since the need to taste him and touch his lips again was stronger so, without realizing what he was doing, he started kissing his ear, going down to his cheeks and neck. And that’s when he felt Sander’s hold got a little bit weaker but he didn’t pay it any attention. Sander threw his head back a little bit, giving him more access to his skin on his neck and Robbe gladly took it, gluing his lips to the spot. 

And then he touched Sander’s face, hold both of his cheeks in his palms and kissed him again, it felt like he didn’t know what he was doing, his whole body was controlling him but he was more than happy for that. 

“Ah - wait - Robbe - someone - someone might - “ he heard between the kisses but didn’t stop, he couldn’t stop. 

And when he put his index finger on Sander’s lips and whispered “shh” he finally lost it and didn’t hold back his self anymore. 

That hungry animal living inside him which only craved for this moment to happen woke up and Robbe could see red, his whole body exploded and he even got a little worried because of how much he was feeling.

Robbe couldn’t stop touching and kissing him. His hands going up and down on his body, finally after so long, he had a permission to touch and he couldn’t not take a chance. 

But Sander pulled him away after a while and Robbe’s whole face dropped.

“What?” He asked, already afraid that he went too deep, he crossed a line and boundaries. But when Sander smiled cheekily at him, he calmed down a little bit.

“I just - can’t breath.” And Robbe laughed against his body, hugging him closer, putting his neck on his shoulder.

“You have no idea how long I waited and wanted this”. He whispered in his ear and felt how Sander swallowed. 

He felt a hand on his back and smiled. 

He could definitely get used to this.

“We need to go.” Sander said after a few moments, when they calmed down a little bit. 

“You’re right.” Robbe agreed, taking his hand and they told started walking towards the exit but couldn’t help themselves. They’d look towards each other and laugh, look away blushing and that’s when Robbe realized, he wanted to have this for his whole life.

When they got there, there was one woman, who smiled when she saw them and joked “you boys are lucky, if you were two minutes late, you’d have to stay here all night long.” 

“I wouldn’t mind getting locked in here with you.” Robbe mumbled in his ear while trying to tug him with him. 

Sander laughed and Robbe noticed how the woman threw a dirty look at them when she saw their intertwined hands and when Sander let his hand go, Robbe heart dropped but he smiled again when he felt Sander putting it on the small part of his back, pushing him in front so they could walk out easily.

And when they went outside, Robbe still couldn’t stop wandering his hands, couldn’t stop touching him, kissing him, while trying to walk and not fall on the ground. 

“What are we doing now?” Sander asked after a while.

“I don’t really know how to get home from here and I don’t think I have any money left for taxi.” He started looking around, trying to figure out where he was and how he should go back home.

Before Robbe even realized what he was saying and suggesting, he turned Sander’s head so they were looking at each other and said: “you can stay at mine.” 

Sander’s eyebrows went up after hearing that. 

“Robbe, I don’t think that’s a good idea.” He started but Robbe didn’t give him any time to finish it. 

“No, no. I didn’t mean it like that. You just can stay to spend the night. How can you get back home now? And honestly, I don’t like the thought of you going back home at this time alone so you can stay over. I can sneak you in.” Robbe winked at him at the last sentence and Sander couldn’t help but shook his head and laughed but after some more convincing from the boy, he finally gave him and agreed.

* * *

Robbe opened the door very quietly, looking inside, not letting Sander in yet. After didn’t hearing anything, he took Sander’s hand and guided him to his room.

“I’m glad you didn’t make me go inside from the window.” Sander joked-whispered and Robbe smiled but it froze on his face when he realized what Sander said. 

“Somebody has sneaked you in before like that?”

Somebody has sneaked you in before too?

“Yeah, once.” The quick jealousy went through Robbe’s blood, curious about the story behind that sentence, but didn’t dare to ask for more. 

“This way.” He said and pushed Sander in his room and breathed out when he successfully managed to get inside without waking his mom up but his happiness didn’t last long when Sander decided to drop his bag on the floor and the loud bang could be hear in the whole house. 

Robbe’s eyes went wide and he winced, throwing his arms around as if that would turn the time back and would make the sound disappear. 

His deadly look only made Sander laugh and he had to put his palm over his mouth so he couldn’t make a sound. But after the house continuing to be silent, they decided that nobody has woken up. 

Robbe closed the door slowly, taking his jacket off, dropping it on the chair next to his bed, walking up to Sander slowly, shaking his head, fighting a smile. 

“What do you have in there? Rocks?” He asked, trying to act annoying. 

“No, knifes.” Sander teased, coming closer to Robbe, which made the brunet roll his eyes. 

They were standing right in front of each other, a moonlight dimming in the room, making it dark but light enough to see each other’s figures and faces. Robbe put his arms around Sander’s shoulder, making each other’s bodies glued together.

“Too many killer jokes today. Should I be worried?” 

“I could be a psychopath and you invited me to your house.” 

“You’re too cute so I’m ready to take a chance of you murdering me in my sleep. At least my last minutes will be shared with a very hot guy.” Robbe saw how Sander put his head down, which made their forehead touch each other, but didn’t make any move, so they stayed there, for some time, just holding each other in the darkness until Sander muffled voice asked “shouldn’t we go to bed” ruining everything, but Robbe nodded anyways, letting go of him. 

And they got ready for the bed, silently. 

Sander wanted to sleep on the left side which was the side Robbe usually slept but he decided to be a gentleman and let him have it, thinking they would both end up on the same side of the bed in the end anyways but his hopes and dreams were very much disappointed and crushed when Sander laid down very far away from him and Robbe wasn’t enjoying that at all. 

He was too far away.

But Sander, oblivious to Robbe’s desperation to touch him, didn’t say anything about that fact, as if he never considered touching the brunet while they would go to bed so Robbe tried to not think about it. 

And he really tried but his hands were begging to go over to him. Begging to hold him close after all this time of imagining this exact moment.

This was finally a reality and Sander was only one feet away, on Robbe’s bed, in his bedroom.

This was a thing Robbe only dared to think about, in the wildest of his imagination, in a very far part of his brain, in the darkness, afraid if he thought about it loudly, he’d accept it being a part of his mind. 

Now, he was finally living his dreams and his only mission was to get closer to the body, laying next to him.

So he waited.

Waited until he thought that Sander went to sleep and slowly turned around and sneaked up on him, putting his arm around his waist, pushing him closer to his chest and closed his eyes, enjoying the feeling of having him in his arms. 

But he still noticed how Sander’s breathing changed. 

He was wide awake. 

But didn’t make any comments. Just stayed there, and Robbe breathed out.

The feeing of calmness didn’t last long when Sander tried to turn around, making Robbe’s grip loosen up and Robbe’s heart dropped. 

He was trying to get away and Robbe was about to move, upset that no matter what Sander always end up rejecting his hands and affection, when Sander did something which surprised him instead. 

He turned around and made Robbe push down on the bed, on his back with his hand and laid his head down on his chest, tangled their legs together. 

Robbe smiled to himself and got his fingers lost in his hair, kissing his forehead.

And he finally decided to relax. 

The atmosphere around him was too peaceful and he only felt the happiness inside his body which made drifting off to sleep way easier for him.

Unfortunately, Robbe wasn’t wake enough to hear how Sander whispered “I think I might be out of my mind and I’m going crazy but I think that you're the one” with tears in his eyes, against his skin. 

Chapter 15

[amintyworld]

Secrets - Dream SMP Drabble

WATERFALL (Part one)    SUNSET (Part two)

A/N: Part 3 is finally here! So, bit of a update - this is indeed NOT the final part as I had planned, since there’s so much I want to cover about my own little backstory about two these two lovebirds, including how they get to the SMP. So, more parts to come, be on the lookout! Also, if you haven’t already, links to the two other parts should be above, please check them out if you’d like! Anyway, as always, enjoy!

TW: Arguing, secrets, surprise pregnancy, miscommunication, vomiting, cursing, roughhousing, injury (Not vv bloody tho). (Let me know if I need to tag anything else!)

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

“Alright boys, get down here, breakfast is ready!” Philza heard scampering and thudding footsteps on the stairs as both Tommy and Tubbo raced to the table, smiling and laughing all the way. Wilbur walked down next, the only one out of their pajamas as he sat with his notebook in front of him, scribbling ideas, notes, and lyrics. Technoblade was last, not exactly the morning person of the group, as he passed by his two younger siblings and ruffed their hair lovingly before sitting down with a yawn. Phil quickly set eggs in front of each of them, a warm loaf of bread at the center the baker delivered early in the morning. Techno murmured a sleepy ‘thanks’ as Philza set down a cup of coffee with his plate, and Wilbur got up to grab some orange juice for him and Tubbo, leaving it out so Tommy could pour his own as he insisted.

It was a nice feeling in the mornings with his boys, sitting and eating a nice breakfast as the sun began to rise over the horizon. Philza mused over just how much changed over the last few years - they adopted Tubbo, Technoblade and Wilbur were becoming adults - but yet, things still felt the same. The little family was silent as they ate, enjoying each other’s company as the world began to wake up just outside their windows.

Tubbo, to Philza’s relief, was not as chaotic as the rest of his siblings and was all around a responsible and kind soul - at least when he was alone. When Philza walked inside to Tommy and Tubbo covered head to toe in bee stings due to ‘showing dominance over the bees so they’ll be our pets’, he learned quickly that the two younger brothers together would spur on all kinds of trouble. Luckily, he was used to it from the elder two when they were around Tommy and Tubbo’s age. Philza chuckled remembering when Techno and Wilbur tried to corner that parrot to only run home with nothing but a bunch of scratches, bruises, and covered in feathers - he’d snapped a picture before they both cleaned up, both pink from embarrassment.

“So, I’ll be off today checking in and fixing up the garden, going into town for a while, and then going fishing if I have the time. I should be home by around sunset, though.” Philza declared, taking a swig of his morning coffee.

“Me and Tubbo are gonna go find Mothman and catch a couple of pet bees,” Tommy said. As Philza opened his mouth to respond, Tubbo interrupted. 

“We’ll take our swords and be back by sunset.” Tubbo finished. “And we’ll make sure to follow the path and not get lost.” 

Philza chuckled. “Good.” He smiled. 

“Techno and I were gonna train for a bit - I think I’m getting close to beating him.” Wilbur said, and a loud ‘HA’ erupted from his older brother.

“You wish,” Techno smirked. “The day you beat me one on one is the day I give up eating potatoes.” The pig hybrid did love himself a baked potato, and Philza knew that all too well. Chatter spurred on amongst the family, and Philza just smiled, taking in the moment. 

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

“Jeez, is Techno some kind of mega pig demon?” Sally said, sitting cross-legged on the floor of her treehouse, across from Wilbur who looked a little worse for wear. “He went way too rough with you.”

“He didn’t mean to, he just got carried away.” Wilbur defended. “He felt really bad after, I kept telling him it was fine.” Wilbur let out a soft curse as the disinfectant soaked cloth ran over a particularly deep cut on his forehead, and Sally rubbed circles on the top of his hand in a loving gesture. 

“Wil, it’s not fine, you got really hurt.” Sally’s tone turned serious, and Wilbur intertwined their fingers together.

“You’re scared.”

“No shit I am!” Sally yelled angrily before she took a deep breath to calm herself, continuing.. “Wilbur, sure you’re fine now but what if you got worse, and he didn’t stop? What if you got really hurt?”

“I know, I didn’t mean to worry you.” Wilbur gently squeezed her hand. “I promise we’ll be more careful.” 

Sally placed a bandage on the cut on his forehead and planted a soft kiss on it. “Thank you.” Wilbur cracked a smirk as she faced him fully again. 

“How bad’s the damage?”

Sally smiled back. “Just some bruises and cuts, a few days of healing and you’ll be fine. Don’t worry, you still look handsome.”

“Good thing, too,” Wilbur said jokingly. “My face and my guitar’s all I got going for me.”

“Oh please, Beanie Boy.” Sally smiled as she moved to cuddle closer to him, and his arms wrapped around her until they were both comfortable against the wall, Sally’s head leaned against Wilbur’s chest, the girl all too careful in her movements to make sure she didn’t hurt her boyfriend’s many bruises. “Did you win, at least?”

“He called a draw,” Wilbur said. “But, I did manage to use that weapon snatching tactic you taught me.” He laughed a bit. “He totally freaked.”

“Good,” Sally chuckled. “Someone’s gotta keep that pig on his toes.” Sally felt Wilbur shift a bit as he tensed. “You okay?”

“Yeah, just sore,” Wilbur said. “Why do I have a feeling I’m gonna regret most of the fight in the morning?” They both chuckled at the comment.

“I’m sorry, Do you want me to kiss it better?” Sally asked, looking up to her boyfriend in time to see a slight telltale pink on his cheeks. He nodded as Sally shifted to sit up more and began leaving some kisses along his arms wherever she saw a bruise, before leaning in to give him a soft peck on the lips where a small bruise was beginning to form.

“It’s almost sunset, I gotta get home or Phil will kill me,” Wilbur said, before tucking a long piece of hair behind her ear. “I’ll be back tomorrow, though.”

“Good, someone’s gotta help me refill my stash of supplies,” Sally said, smirking. “I’m all out of beetroot for bruise cream, if you haven’t heard.”

“Will do, my salmon,” Wilbur said, getting up, grabbing his sword, bag, and beanie before heading to the entrance.

“Be careful heading back, you’re still healing.”

“Gosh, you sound like Phil.” Wilbur chided sarcastically before Sally gave him a look. “I’ll be careful, I swear.” Wilbur pulled Sally in for a close embrace, pressing a tender kiss to her forehead. “I love you, my salmon.”

“Love you, Wilby.” At the rarely used nickname, Wilbur’s heart melted as he muttered a simple ‘bye’ and climbed down the ladder.

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

Sally didn’t understand what was going on, and she was mostly kind of scared. Standing over a bucket and puking as the sun rose up was not exactly a great sign. Neither was the weird soreness. Maybe she had some kind of flu or something? Either way, one thing was for sure - she didn’t like this, at all. Being a survivor and runner for years on end, she prided herself for being pretty healthy and knowing a lot of good healing tips and tricks to not slow herself down. Now, she felt ashamed. Weak.

She hoped it was just the flu. Grimacing, she swallowed the medicine and took some water and a snack on her way out - She didn’t want to be late for work. Her hair was a bit of a mess and she chewed a bit of mint to disguise the bad breath she gained from this morning. She felt awful but pushed the feeling aside. It must just be a bug or something, had to be.

When she was old enough, she started looking for a job in town to get some money and not have to worry about hunting every night. Sure, Phil always had a spot for her at the table, but even Sally knew how much he was stretched to the limit feeding five. Luckily, she found a pretty cushiony job at the trade center - where she and a handful of others settled disputes over what was a fair trade and what wasn’t. 

As she worked she headed to steady herself every now and then when she felt sick or lightheaded. It just got worse as the days went on, and it got too much for her to ignore. She left early on sick leave and made a quick stop at the library before heading home, determined to figure out what was going on with her and fix it in whatever way possible. She settled in bed with some hot tea and opened the book: ‘Easy to Spot Ailments Hidden in Plain Sight’. At this point, she was fed up feeling horrible and just wanted it to end. Her head ached, her stomach churned with any bit of food she tried to get down. Her shaking hands flipped through the pages as she looked for what matched her list of symptoms in her head - Nausea, light-headedness, fatigue…

‘Pregnancy, in the early stages, is common to have morning sickness, fatigue, tender or sore muscles…’

Her eyes widened at the thought… pregnant…? She scanned the page intently and as it were - most of her symptoms she’d been suffering the past few weeks were right there. Her mind whirred with the thought of the possibility. Wilbur was still trying to find a job in town, and they haven’t even gotten their own space yet - they definitely were not ready. The shapeshifter’s thoughts turned to Wil - if it was really the case, how would he react? Maybe he’ll be done with her for good because of it, they took precautions but not enough, she didn’t do enough to stop herself from getting into this position. Wilbur wouldn’t be ready yet, she isn’t either - maybe he’ll ditch her for his own survival. 

She wouldn’t blame him. 

It took her a few moments to realize she was crying. Her head was clouded with so many doubts, fears and what ifs she didn’t even notice. She wiped her tears away. She needed to keep a clear head, she needed to stay calm. Maybe she wasn’t even pregnant, she had to check with the town healer to make sure. There was probably nothing to worry about anyway, and she’d have gotten so worked up over nothing!

Now, looking over the positive pregnancy test in the healer’s hut, all she could think was: ‘Shit.’

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

Wilbur strummed a bit on his guitar as he sat cross-legged in his bed, Sally snuggled up in blankets next to him, humming constantly. “Have you been writing, Wil?”

“A bit.” Wilbur smiled. “Nothing concrete yet, I’m afraid.” Sally pouted slightly, her lower lip out just so, dramatic enough to make both of them laugh. “Sorry to disappoint, my number one fan. Maybe I could make it up by playing a song request…?”

“Love your songs, Wilby.” Sally said as she nuzzled to his side and he smiled.

“I know, my salmon.” Wilbur crooned as he planted a soft kiss on her forehead. “Now, what song do you wanna hear?”

“Hm… what about the pretty soft one?”

“You never remember the names, do you?” Wilbur joked as he checked and tuned up the instrument. Sally laughed.

“Never.” Sally said. “Luckily I don’t have to.” Wilbur began to strum a soft tune as he sang softly with the music, and Sally drank it all in with a smile, her heart feeling full.

“You and I

We’re different but somehow we fit.

And I promise you

No matter what, I’ll never quit.

Because you are the good days,

The tough days,

When I feel like I can’t breathe,

I love you, I hope you like me.”

Sally began to sing along as well, and when the song was done, Wilbur put his guitar down and cuddled Sally close. He wrapped his arms around her until she was completely comfortable and they both laid there, just content in each other’s arms. Though Wilbur could tell she was happy, he also could tell something else was up - she fidgeted every now and then, seemingly never comfortable. He knew her well enough to know when something was bothering her - the way her eyes focused too much on the blanket, lost in thought and her eyebrows furrowed were her telltale signs. “Okay, what’s on your mind?”

“Nothing’s on my mind, I’m just tired.”

“You’re fidgeting, you’re staring into space - did something happen at work?” Wilbur asked, concerned. “If anyone’s bothering you-”

“No, no. Nothing’s going on at work.” Sally said. “Really, I’m fine.”

“Are you sure?” Wilbur asked, and he couldn’t help but notice her hesitation.

“Yes…” She said before she looked around the room a bit, her body fidgeting more violently. “Where’s the bathroom again…?”

“Just down the hall.” Wilbur grew concerned as he noticed her shaking body rush out of the room. Did… did he do something wrong…? He heard the door quickly slam, and he couldn’t help but replay the events in his head over and over. Did he make her uncomfortable? Maybe he shouldn’t have tried to cuddle her, maybe he shouldn’t have said anything at all.

“You okay?” Wilbur looked up to see Philza standing in the doorway casually, looking a bit concerned. That’s when WIlbur noticed how hard he was gripping the blanket on the bed, staring off into space.

“Yeah, I’m fine. I dunno if she is, though.” Wilbur said.

“I heard the slam.” Philza stated. 

“Phil, how do you know if someone’s uncomfortable around you?” Wilbur asked, and Phil’s eyebrows furrowed in thought.

“I guess it depends on the person, sometimes you can tell by their body language... Why?”

“Sally’s been off, she’s not acting like herself. I’m worried about her, I know something’s causing her to be like this, and I dunno if it’s me.” Wilbur said honestly, and Philza’s face turned to a warm comforting smile.

“It’s not you, Wil. I know she loves you just as much as you love her.” Philza said, certain.

“If it’s not me…” WIlbur started. “Then what is it?”

“I don’t know, if I’m honest. But i wouldn’t worry too much over it, okay? I’m sure she’ll tell you what’s going on when she’s ready to.” Phil reassured him. As he told his son, he too tried to keep his worries at bay. He didn’t want to get in the middle of his son’s love life, but if something really bad was happening to the shapeshifter, Phil wanted to help.

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

Philza tried to stay calm as the girl broke down into tears over the two words that spilled over her lips. Part of him wanted to scream, to scold… they were both in their early twenties, but Phil still saw them as kids, kids who didn’t know what to do and were too young to be parents yet. He was mad at them for not being careful, he was upset that Sally felt the need to hide it, and most of all he felt scared for both of them. For the first time in his life, Phil couldn’t protect them. He couldn’t just pull out his sword and fight it all and make all the monsters and scary things go away, and it scared him. He took a deep breath, closing his eyes for a second to process, before handing the crying girl a tissue, doing his best to calm her.

“Why didn’t you say anything?”

“I… I felt so ashamed that I let this happen, I-” Sally’s voice shook. “If Wilbur knew, he’d probably leave, I-”

“Hey.” Phil’s voice was stern but soft. “You couldn’t have done anything to prevent this, it isn’t your fault, okay?” Sally looked to the floor. Phil rubbed her trembling shoulders as a few moments of silence passed between the two. Phil looked firm. “You’ve gotta tell him.”

“No… no I can’t…” Sally said, images flashing through her head of his disgusted face, glaring at her coldy, telling her that if she really cared and respected him, loved him, she would have been more careful, telling her that he wasn’t willing to get dragged down into her mess, so she’ll just have to deal with it.

“Sally, he’s gonna figure it out eventually. Would it be better if you told him, or if he figured out you kept it from him too late?” Philza said.

“He’s done so much for me, I don’t want to burden him with this. He doesn’t deserve to pay for my mistake.” Sally said softly.

“But it’s not your mistake, it’s not ‘your’ anything, you can’t blame yourself for this.”

“Then who can I blame, Phil? Why did this happen, then?!” Sally snapped. “What am I supposed to do now… what can I do now?!” Silence once again engulfed the room as Phil sat and slowly took the shapeshifter’s hands in his.

“You know, when I figured out I was going to be a Dad, I was so scared. I was 22 with no stable job, moving from place to place, living off the land, that’s no way to raise a family.” Philza said, staring into space as he spoke, recalling the memory. “I learned a lot, then - like some things happen without a reason… bad things, but also really good things. Amazing things. And, I know that even now, I’m still scared about it all, but I know you’ll both get through it together just fine. You care too much about each other to let anything get in the way of that.” His gentle expression met hers. “What you’re gonna do now, is you’re going to breathe, finish your cup of tea, and relax. Then when Wilbur comes back from getting the honey with Tommy and Tubbo, you’re gonna look him in the eyes and tell him, even if you’re scared. Because as much as you’re afraid of losing him, he’s afraid of losing you, too.”

Sally swallowed thickly, nodding. “Then what?”

“Then, we’ll figure everything out together, okay?” Phil took his own tea cup in his hands and sipped, looking out the window as the sun began to set. Sally, with shaking breaths, sipped her tea as well as the two sat in a comfortable silence. When the door opened and shouts erupted from the hallway, Phil gave Sally’s hand one final squeeze before getting up and taking their empty tea cups to the kitchen. 

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

“Go. Take your mind off everything for a bit.” Philza had told him as he practically pushed him out the front door. “You can’t just be anxious, worried and cooped up in your room over a girl. Take a break.” When he tried to protest, Philza put his hand up, silencing him. “Besides, Techno’s too busy today to go with them, and someone’s gotta make sure they get home in one piece. Enjoy yourself and have fun, okay?”

Now, sitting under the cover of a bush, all three of them - Wilbur, Tommy, and Tubbo - looked over toward the bee’s nest. “Okay, what’s the plan here?” Tubbo asked, and Tommy smiled, a plan already forming in his mind.

“Okay, so you lure all the bees out with some flowers, while Wilbur and I get the honey. If it backfires..” Tommy hit his fist against his hand. “We’ll hit ‘em with Plan B.”

“What’s Plan B..?” WIlbur asked curiously.

“Well, it's a highly complicated-” Tubbo began.

“-and a simplistic plan that has always gotten us out of trouble so far.” Tommy said, which did not do much to help Wilbur’s new worries over Plan B.

Tubbo picked a huge pile of lilies and daisies and nervously walked closer while Tommy gave him a thumbs up from behind the bush. “You got this, Bee Whisperer!” He hashly said softly, while Wilbur looked over to him. 

“Are you sure this is safe?” WIlbur said, looking over at Tubbo, ready to tackle him to the ground if things went south. “I know bees like flowers, but I’m pretty sure they can tell the difference-”

“Oh yeah, Tubbo’s got this.” Tommy reassured him. “He’s the Bee Whisperer, after all.” A large glass jar landed with a ‘thunk’ on the soft grass. “You’ll hold the jar while I get the honey.”

“Do you even know how to get honey from the nest?” Wilbur asked, and Tommy looked confused.

“Yeah, you just stick your hand in, and-”

“No, nope, we’re not doing that.” WIlbur said. “You’re holding the jar, I’m getting the honey.” He looked over the bush, and to his surprise, the bees flew around Tubbo peacefully, landing on the flowers he held as Tubbo let out a weird buzzing noise from his mouth. Huh - the Bee Whisperer… cool. 

Tommy muttered angrily in protest as he hauled the jar over at his signal, and Wilbur picked up a stick and slowly began to put globs of honey in the jar.

“Is the reason I’m not doing it because of your women problems?”

“Shut up, Tommy-” Wilbur harshly said under his breath, trying to focus. “You’ll alert the bees.”

“Well excuse me for trying to distract myself, this thing’s heavy-”

“Shut up.” Wilbur muttered angrily. Sure, it was kind of harsh, but he was the one who was complaining. They were about halfway done filling the jar when  a few bees began to fly back to the nest, and Tubbo tried to call them back to no avail.

“I think it’s time for Plan B, Wil-”

“No, it’s just a few bees, Tommy…”

One bee in particular decided to land on Tommy’s nose, and that was it. “PLAN B!” He shouted as he capped the honey jar and gave it to Wilbur as he noticed all the bees begin to run back to the nest, sensing danger. Wilbur pushed him away from the nest. “Run!”

Well, Wilbur did not need to be told twice. He rushed away as Tubbo ran after him toward their hiding place in the bush. Tommy followed soon after, covered in honey and bee stings, his hands particularly sticky. Wilbur looked over to see the nest destroyed. He flicked Tommy’s forehead. “That was a terrible plan, you idiot!”

“Ow!” Tommy rubbed the spot a bit as it burned in pain. “Hey, it worked didn’t it? We’re all safe.”

“You can’t just punch away all your problems!” Wilbur shouted. “You could have gotten really hurt!”

“I’m sorry.” Tommy said quietly, looking bothered by his older brother’s tone. Wilbur sighed, his arms crossed. Though it was good to let his frustrations out, he shouldn’t have snapped at him - Tommy was far from the one who’d been aggravating him recently. Tubbo looked at the two, then to the jar.

“Well hey,” He said, smiling, trying to lighten the tense mood. “Look at how much honey we’ve got.” He moved the almost full jar in front to show off. “This has gotta be enough honey for the bee farm, Phil’s gonna be impressed - we make a pretty good team.” Tommy brightened a bit at his friend’s words, though still kind of hurt, and moved to take the jar from Tubbo.

“We should be heading back, the sun's almost down.” Tommy said as he stood, picked up the jar and walked off, Tubbo close behind, and then Wilbur at the back. 

Wilbur would be lying if he said the past few weeks had been easy - he tried his best to just stay calm, but every time without fail Sally would always rush away, or snap at him. If she was upset with him, he wished she’d just tell him instead of playing this stupid guessing game. He felt like he was walking on eggshells around her, and he hated it. He didn’t like all this secrecy, he didn’t like not being able to just talk with her the way they used to. He was upset and angry with Sally, he just wanted to know what’s going on, is that such a hard thing to ask?

He scoffed to himself - he was supposed to be keeping his mind off it, but he couldn’t even do that. He couldn’t even relax when things were so tense with her, how pathetic is that…?

“Wilbur?”

“...What?” He asked, snapped out of his thoughts by Tubbo, who pointed ahead.

“This is the right direction, right?”

“I’m not Techno, but… I think…” He looked around, scrambling for some familiar landmark. Tommy was in front, uncharacteristically quiet. Then, he spotted a rotten tree log, and it clicked in his mind where they were. “Yes, just a bit that way.” He moved toward the front, and Tommy kept his eyes forward. Feeling awkward, Wilbur touched the sft fabric of his beanie, taking in his hands and running his fingers over it, taking a breath before finally breaking the silence.

“Look, I’m sorry for snapping at you. You didn’t deserve that.”

Tommy’s eyes were fixated on the jar for now. “You’ve been so off lately, and I just thought maybe if we dragged you on some crazy adventure, I’d get you back. But it still followed us, I don’t understand… is it me?”

“No, I… it isn’t, Tommy.” Wilbur said, focusing on the knitted stitches as he formed the words to say. “I’ve just been- Things with me and Sally have been... complicated, recently. Still, I shouldn’t have yelled at you like that.”

“So, you really are having women problems.” Tommy’s tone was serious, an oddity for the usually joking teen. “You really care about her a lot, don’t you?”

“Yeah… yeah, I do.” Wilbur breathed.

“No wonder. I haven’t seen you this torn up about anyone in… in well, forever.” Tommy smiled, not joking or smirking, but just smiled. “We’re here for you, you know.”

“I know.” Wilbur smiled as the two made eye contact. “Thank you, Tommy.”

“Does this mean you’re not mad at each other anymore?” Tubbo asked from behind them, and the two brothers smiled. 

“Yeah, yeah I think we’re done.” Tommy said as Tubbo wrapped his arms around both of his brothers shoulders with a relieved smile. 

“Good, because I did not want to be walking home in that awkward silence for another hour.” With that, laughter erupted from all three. 

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

Philza smiled, eyebrows raised in a bit of surprise as he took the jar of honey from Tommy, looking at his condition. “Should I even ask?”

“We used Plan B.” Tubbo said with a smile, making Tommy smirk.

“I punched a thing.” Tommy said confidently, and Philza laughed. 

“Go get cleaned up, both of you - and don’t forget to apply that sting cream.” The two boys marched to the bathroom as Philza set their prized jar on the counter. Back in the living room, Wilbur’s gut ached uncomfortably as Sally walked toward him, giving him a sad smile. 

“Hey.” Her hands found their way into his and their fingers interlocked. It felt… nice.

“Hey.”

“Do you, uh… can we talk? Alone?”

“Uh… yeah, yeah. Okay.”

Sally’s hands never left his as they sat down on his bed in his room, the door closed behind them. Though for the past few weeks Wilbur had so much he wanted to say to his girlfriend, now he couldn’t seem to find any words as they just sat in silence for a few moments. The fur on Sally’s ears and tail stood on end, and she took a deep breath, looking at their hands as she finally spoke.

“Okay, Wil… there’s something I’ve gotta tell you.”

Wilbur’s heart felt uneasy by your nervousness, worries filling his mind of finally figuring out the truth… and if he didn’t like what it was. If Sally decided to break up with him - all the uncomfortableness would make so much sense, why would she drag it out for this long… he really hoped it wasn’t that, but… it seemed more and more probable. 

“You’ve probably noticed I’ve been acting weird, right?” She asked as he nodded. “Well, remember when I told you that I used to not be attached to anything, because I knew it could only lead to disaster?”

“Yeah…?”

“Well… I’m attached to you, a lot. I’ve realized it lately, and I’ve realized I don’t… I don’t want to lose you. I was so scared that if I told you, I would, and I… I love you too much to lose you, Wil.”

Is this what she’d been upset about?

“You’re never going to lose me, Sally. I promise…” He said, relaxing a bit as his mind whirred about the entire situation. He kissed her forehead softly as he pulled her in for a comforting embrace. “I promise I’m not going anywhere, okay?”

Sally smiled, beginning to relax a bit more, but still a bit nervous. “That’s why it’s been so hard to tell you, Wil.”

“Tell me what?”

Sally took another deep breath. “Wilbur, I’m pregnant.”

Wilbur blinked a few times, trying to process what his girlfriend had just said. Pregnant. She… she was pregnant. That was not what he was expecting her to tell him in the slightest. But, it did explain some things - her frequent bathroom trips, for one. His mind slowly began to put the pieces together, how it made so much sense…

“You serious…?” He asked her, and she smiled, tucking his hair behind his ear.

“One hundred percent, Wilby.” Her voice shook with nervousness as she mustered a smile, not knowing what he’d do or say next. Wilbur broke out into a huge smile as he took Sally into his arms and spun her around as the two laughed, smiling. Wilbur was so relieved that it wasn’t what he thought, that it was the farthest thing from his worries. All the anxiety, the fear… it all went away. They both fell into the bed, smiling and laughing. Wilbur planted a soft kiss on Sally’s cheek as he moved to cuddle her tightly in his arms. “So… you’re not upset with me?”

“No, why would I?” Wilbur said. “Of course, I mean, it’s unexpected… but, we’ll get through it together.” His attention quickly turned to her, his relief turning quickly into concern. “Are… are you okay? I can’t imagine what you’re going through, if you even want the baby-”

“I’ve had lots of time to think about it.” Sally laughed. “And, I’ll admit I had mixed feelings at first - partly because of what you’d think, but partly because I’ve never even thought about kids, you know? It always seemed so far off.”

“Well, if you’re uncomfortable about it, we can always talk about other options, or…” Wilbur said, trying to reassure her.

“No. No… I…” Her eyebrows furrowed, and her ears flicked back and forth. “I think I wanna keep it.” She looked over to Wilbur as her hands found their way back into his. “I was so scared of losing everything that I kept this from you for so long… I don’t want to be scared anymore.” She laid her head against his chest, finding the words as her eyes were glued on their hands. “I want… I want you, Wilbur. I want this.”

“Are you sure, we don’t have to decide anything right now, I don’t want to pressure you-”

“Wilbur.” Sally reached up to cup his cheek with a comforting smile, feeling happy, relieved, and content. Of course, part of her was scared of the unknown, but Sally knew that what Phil had told her, what Wilbur told her was the absolute truth - she and Wilbur would get through it together. Her hand moved his over her stomach, and Wilbur couldn’t help but smile as he leaned down and pressed a kiss to her forehead.

You wouldn’t see it at first glance, but they were both absolutely terrified at the new adventure waiting for them. Yet, somehow, in each other’s arms, they felt safe, secure. Like they could do anything. I guess, looking to what would come next, that was more true than either of them would think.

[passable-talent]

Hi yes so I just finished the anakin punk au and it was uh perfect? And you should 100% please write more in that au it doesn’t even have to be in some coherent storyline, just more punk anakin please I am hooked

say no more my dear

I write this. and I think to myself “punks. they like weed. they drink. I should talk about that.”

and then I don’t. because I have a,,, responsibility to promote good health I guess?

don’t do drugs kids. most of them arent worth it i promise

and yes just like i mentioned wattpad in the last one tumblr is coming up on this one we’re breaking the FUCKING fourth wall

part one here

You passed out on his shoulder, exactly as he predicted, at about 2:00 AM.

He didn’t notice for a few minutes, and once he had, he had to make a very hard decision. 

He knew you were leaving in the morning, you had other places to be. And he had to get home, Cliegg was going to be pissed he’d been out this late as it was. But- just like you, he never wanted the night to end.

At 2:15, he shimmied out from under you, finding your room key quickly. Once he’d slipped it into his pocket, he picked you up, carrying you all the way back to your room. The door seemed to scream as it opened, but none of the girls were awake. He laid you onto the only empty bed, leaving your room key on the dresser, and kneeled at your beside, for just a moment. 

A night he wasn’t going to forget. One he wasn’t willing to leave behind. 

He found the notepad left by the hotel for guests and its nearby pen, scribbling his phone number onto it before smacking it onto your room key so that he knew you’d see it. 

He wasn’t taking any chances. He did everything he could to make sure that you were safe, that you’d sleep soundly, that he’d see you again. It was a bit of a walk back to where he’d left his car, at the venue, but it was worth it- he shrugged his jacket up around his neck against the cold and kept going, remembering how it’d felt to hold you. 

But, in all of his kindness, he had made one mistake. You didn’t get to say goodbye. 

You woke up in the hotel room the next morning, for a moment thinking that maybe you’d dreamed the whole thing. But then you realized you still had your shoes on, and you were laying on top of the sheets, why the hell would I do that, and you phone hadn’t been plugged in, and- 

And there was a phone number on the dresser. 

You weren’t really ‘dating’- you shouldn’t call it that. If you were going to call it that, then there would inevitably be a post on someone’s tumblr that you had a boyfriend, and who was he, where was he from, yada yada... that damn website already had half the internet convinced you were dating Padme, you didn’t want to add any more fuel to the fire. 

So no, you weren’t dating. But you were texting every day. You learned so much about him, about how he was raised by his mom and worked at her friend Watto’s auto shop, about his step-brother and future step-sister-in-law, how his mom died when he was nineteen, about how he’d tried to move to California with his friend Obi-Wan a few years ago, but it fell through. In return, you told him about your life- living in the outskirts of San Francisco, being pushed into ballet lessons as a kid (as he said- ‘that’s why you look weightless on stage!’), being cut out from your family for quitting college to pursue music. 

You texted every day and every night, sent him videos from gigs, and he sent dumb little snapchats from underneath whatever car he was working on. You expected that to be it, probably for a long time- neither of you had the money nor the time to see each other more often. So you held onto the connection you had, the night you’d spent together. 

And you thought that’d be it. But- the universe has a funny way of surprising you. 

Your record label was based in LA, so you lived in Salta Ana, about thirty miles away, where the real estate was way cheaper. The band lived together, close as four friends could be, so they knew all about how you’d fallen for Anakin. Ahsoka would notice you glued to your phone, and ask snarkily “texting skyguy?” to which you always scolded her that his name was Skywalker. 

Living so close to LA made it easy to do gigs at any venue that would take you- bars, clubs, a particularly anarchist biker hall. A bar- such was the case for tonight. 

Like usual with a gig like this, Aayla had taken to instagram and called any fan in the area, so the bar was mostly filled with people who knew the music, but there were regulars, too. People who couldn’t be damned to listen to the lyrics, and just let the atmosphere move them. 

The setlist changed, when you were at a place like this. You didn’t necessarily rely on the hundred voice chorus that you loved so much, and so couldn’t include some of those songs. Your music strayed a little more to the rock end of the spectrum, when you played in places like this. With that high energy came faster music, more running around the stage, more movement, but you weren’t tired, when the set ended at 11:25. You were more energized than usual, in fact.

“Pads, I’ve never heard you solo like that!” You said, a bright smile on your face as you pushed out of the employee entrance of the bar. She gave you thanks, but not a moment later stopped dead, not saying a word, staring at you. You paused, looking at her, then Ahsoka and Aayla, who’d both stopped, too. 

“What?” Ahsoka and Aayla, though, were looking at something past you, which made you realize that Padme was, too. You turned, and leaning against the wall was- was Anakin. 

“Oh my god,” you said under your breath, dropping into a run toward him immediately. “Anakin!” He shoved himself off of the wall, letting you run into his arms, and just held you. You pulled away to look at him, amazed that after months, here he was, right in front of you, real. 

“What are you doing here?” you asked, bewildered, surprised, ecstatic. 

“Visiting Obi-Wan,” he said, and he lifted his hand to your face, giving you a good look at that tattoo you hadn’t quite forgotten, dark lines reaching from his elbow to his palm. 

“And you,” he added. You couldn’t help it- you hadn’t seen him in so long, you couldn’t help the way you leaned into it when he pulled you into a kiss, and this time you weren’t exhausted, and you could let yourself feel it, you could pay attention to his chapped lips and the way he slid them over yours, still soft, even after waiting in the cold. You never wanted to leave this moment, like so many of the others that you spent with him, his hands on your face keeping away the January air. 

“Yeah, I’m heading home,” Ahsoka said, making you break the kiss. “Coming, or not?” You looked back at her with a bit of a glare, letting Anakin’s hands fall to your neck. 

“You guys go ahead,” you said, checking your jacket pocket for the essentials- wallet, phone, house keys. “I think I have a tradition to uphold.” 

The bar you’d played at tonight was a bit far away from the place you wanted to take Anakin, but you didn’t mind the walk, since it was with him. You’d been texting every day, and yet it felt different, there was so much more to talk about now. 

Apparently, Anakin hadn’t seen Obi-Wan since he’d left to move to LA, so it was a visit to an old friend as much as it was an excuse to see you again. 

“So you’re staying with him?” You asked, leading him by the arm down the street. 

“Yeah,” he said, hooking his elbow into yours, which let him keep his hands in his pockets. “He’s got an apartment in east LA, it’s got a nice couch.”

“East LA, not bad. What’s he do?” 

“He’s a talent manager, actually. Went to business school and everything.” Anakin paused, suppressing a chuckle. “He told me that he’d love to represent you, if you didn’t already have someone.” 

“Sadly, we do,” you said, playful, “but I’ll keep him in mind.” 

You’d pretend it was the winter chill that brought the flush to your cheeks- he’d told his friend about you. That had to mean you were important to him, right?

“Where are we heading, anyway?” He asked, and you, luckily, could channel your inner dramatic and turn toward the doorway you’d been heading toward all along. 

“Right here,” you said, and you took him inside. 

This was your recording studio- it was always open, so that any artist could stop in and get out whatever creativity they had. You showed your ID card to the lobby clerk, who approved it and called the elevator. Anakin followed your lead until the door closed, and just like you had on the night you met him, you pressed the button for the highest floor. 

“This is one of the buildings for our record company,” you said, the elevator so familiar. 

“Which would explain why he let you in,” Anakin said, a slight teasing tone to his voice. All you could do was chuckle, waiting for the elevator to reach the top floor.

From there, you lead him to a glass door, and swiped your ID card through a reader near its frame so you could step outside. 

“This is the rooftop set,” you said, gesturing to the wide space, “It’s where we film a lot of music videos.” This close to the door, it was hard to see over the side of the building, and so you took Anakin’s hand.

“The city lights keep us from stargazing,” you said with a smile, and brought him to the guardrail at the edge of the roof. “So I thought I’d show you the city’s version of the night sky.” Looking out across the city, there were a thousand orange sparkles, windows illuminated in buildings stretching as far as the eye could see. Criss-crossed between them were lines of red and white, LA traffic clogging the city streets even so late at night. 

No matter how many times you came up here, you’d never get tired of the view. Fifty-five stories up, there were other buildings that dwarfed this tower, but the west was free of them, so your view to the horizon was clear, even in the LA overcast. 

“Wow,” he said, looking out over it all beside you. “I’ve never- I don’t think I’ve ever been up this high.” You fixed him with a surprised expression, leaning your elbows down onto the banister. 

“No? Really?”

“I didn’t grow up in a city, like you,” he said, settling in beside you, his arm pressed to yours. You let your head rest onto his shoulder, remembering the night you met. 

“I’m glad you came out to LA,” you said, “though I’m hoping you’ll stay a while. I  want to go on an actual date with you.” You heard him exhale.

“You don’t call this a date?” he asked, and you lifted your head, looking at him, the lights of the city giving his face the slightest, golden glow. 

“Well, I mean-” If this was a date, then so had been the one after the show, back in October. Which meant this was your second date, and you’d technically been ‘dating’ this whole time, which kinda made him your- boyfriend? 

“Is it?” Anakin slipped his hand into yours, lacing your fingers together.

“This is better than any dinner and movie we could’ve gone to, I think.” He turned over your hand, tracing his first finger over the skyline tattoo that bisected your forearm. “Especially since it seems like this means a lot to you.” You couldn’t believe he’d noticed that tattoo- it meant he really was paying attention to you. 

“Yeah,” you said with a smile, lifting your arm up, his hand still held in yours, aligning the tattoo with the skyline you were looking at. “I got this done after we did our first video.” Silently, he examined the ink and compared it to the sky, seeing what you meant. 

“That’s really cool,” he said, bringing your hand back down, since his fingers were getting cold in the wind, and he had to assume yours were too. 

“How long are you going to be in town?” You asked, resting your temple down onto his shoulder again. 

“A week, or so. Watto says he needs me to work on a mustang that we’re getting- I think Cliegg told him to say that since he doesn’t want me in the city.” 

“Well, I don’t want to undermine your dad,” you said, “But I wouldn’t complain if you stayed here a lot longer than that.” You ran your thumb over the back of his hand. “It’s really nice to actually have you with me, and not over the phone.” Anakin turned to kiss the top of your head.

“Tell me about it. It’s worse for me, I promise- I listen to your music all the time, and it just makes me want to see you.” 

“Sometimes I forget that you were once just a fan,” you said with a laugh, “listening to our music.” 

“The luckiest one in the world,” Anakin added, and you almost wondered how you’d ever lived without him. 

You let a moment pass, in silence. 

“I’m twenty five,” you started, wondering if you had the courage to finish, “do you think I’m too young to be in love?” Anakin didn’t respond, at first. He turned to you, lifting his furthest hand to your face, making you look up at him. You could never get over those blue eyes- you’d forgotten how intense they were. 

“I guess it depends on the guy,” Anakin said, his teeth quickly catching his lower lip. “Do you think you are?” You reached up past his arm to his face, your first finger tracing his eyebrow before your palm came to rest on the ridge of his cheekbone.

“No,” you said, and you rushed forward to meet his lips. 

-🦌 Roe

[wardencommanderrodimiss]

zofia shepard v. social media

an epistolary in tweets, or whatever the 22nd century space-future equivalent of twitter is. I would have invented one wholecloth but I had enough trouble inventing, like, 4 randos that Zofia interacts with on space-future twitter. 

I promise it gets more interesting than it looks above the cut.

Commander Shepard @.n7shepard Command of the SSV Normandy, a joint human-turian construction, granted to Alliance N7 Zofia Shepard to investigate attack on Eden Prime. 25 Feb 2183, 15:12

The First Human Spectre @.n7shepard The Citadel Council has appointed its first human Spectre: Commander Zofia Marya Shepard, from the colony Mindoir. 4 March 2183, 14:30

The First Human Spectre @.n7shepard SSV Normandy attacked and destroyed by unknown assailant over the planet Alchera, system Amada, Omega Nebula. More news to come. 12 Sept 2183, 17:53

The First Human Spectre @.n7shepard Search for survivors of the SSV Normandy continues. Numerous crew MIA including Commander Shepard. 12 Sept 2183, 19:42

The First Human Spectre @.n7shepard The loss of a legend: [a link to a news article detailing those still missing from the SSV Normandy's destruction, including Commander Zofia Marya Shepard; the exact site where most of the ship's debris have landed remains unknown] 15 Sept 2183, 13:23

The First Human Spectre @.n7shepard Information about memorial services for the SSV Normandy crew and Commander Shepard to come. 24 Sept 2183, 14:45

The First Human Spectre @.n7shepard A Memorial Flame for Commander Shepard has been erected on Torfan. 15 November 2183, 16:29

The First Human Spectre @.n7shepard retweeted Mindoir Colony Council @.mindoircolony The Systems Alliance has approved our request to use Commander Zofia Shepard's likeness on our new colony seal. [a picture of the new seal: in the outer circle Mindoir and its date of founding are written, while within it depicts an image of Commander Zofia Shepard that has removed the scars on her face and corrected her overbite but at least leaves her distinct nose.] 9 May 2184, 12:25

The First Human Spectre @.n7shepard It has been one year since the SSV Normandy destruction. Here is what the Alliance and the Council has discovered since then: [a link containing an article that mentions Saren and the geth but not the Reapers] 12 Sept 2184, 15:09

The First Human Spectre @.n7shepard Today marks two years since the loss of humanity's first Spectre. A memorial ceremony is planned at the Alliance Embassy on the Citadel. 12 Sept 2185, 13:41 [a number of comments in this thread contain information about protests planned for the memorial, both by other Citadel races against Shepard's actions in the attack on the Council, and by humans who think the Alliance is covering up information about Shepard's death]

The First Human Spectre @.n7shepard sup bithces 28 Nov 2185, 03:23 | The First Human Spectre @.n7shepard fuck i cant spell 28 Nov 2185, 03:24

fuck cerberus @.n7shepard why did no one change the password for this account in 2 years. oh well. changed now. mine now. 28 Nov 2185, 23:17 | fuck cerberus @.n7shepard my city now 28 Nov 2185, 23:20

fuck cerberus @.n7shepard paws off, udina, alliance, all of you. don’t use my name to peddle your lies

The First Human Spectre @.n7shepard It has been one year since the SSV Normandy destruction. Here is what the Alliance and the Council has discovered since then: [a link containing an article that mentions Saren and the geth but not the Reapers]

29 Nov 2185, 01:09

fuck cerberus @.n7shepard how much did mr&mrs Man hate their son to name him first name The middle name Illusive 2 Dec 2185, 23:45

fuck cerberus @.n7shepard SUP BITHCES [a slightly blurry selfie of a blue-gray turian with blue facial markings and bandages covering the right half of his face, and a human who strongly resembles Commander Shepard, though with a number of deep scars marring her left cheek in place of the single white scar that lined that side of her face] 5 Dec 2185, 08:28

fuck cerberus @.n7shepard confession: i forgot that afterlife is the name of a club on omega so when i landed 1/ 5 Dec 2185, 10:34 | fuck cerberus @.n7shepard and was told to go to afterlife i misheard, go to THE afterlife 2/ 5 Dec 2185, 10:36 | fuck cerberus @.n7shepard and got really angry thinking they were threatening me 3/3 5 Dec 2185, 10:37 | Lazarus Cell Lieutenant @.lazaruslt @.n7shepard I was wondering why you acted like that. That is not the explanation I expected. 5 Dec 2185, 12:54 | fuck cerberus @.n7shepard you're the worst 5 Dec 2185, 13:20 | fuck cerberus @.n7shepard actually i'm sorry i take that back M is the worst 5 Dec 2185, 13:22 | fuck cerberus @.n7shepard i take that back. mr man is the worst 5 Dec 2185, 14:01 | Lazarus Cell Lieutenant @.lazaruslt You know that's not his name, right? 5 Dec 2185, 14:40 | fuck cerberus @.n7shepard i dont know a thing my guy 5 Dec 2185, 14:42

fuck cerberus @.n7shepard retweeted i live in hell @.shitpostingsalarian I want Archangel to snipe me in the head, killing me instantly. 6 Dec 2185, 01:39

fuck cerberus @.n7shepard retweeted i live in hell @.shitpostingsalarian Why did the official Commander Shepard account retweet me I'm literally nobody. 7 Dec 2185, 13:52

i live in hell @.shitpostingsalarian @.n7shepard Are you really Commander Shepard alive again? 7 Dec 2185, 18:47 | fuck cerberus @.n7shepard yeah 7 Dec 2185, 19:12 | i live in hell @.shitpostingsalarian Can I ask why you seem to be spending so much time on twitter? It seems like you are someone with more important things to do. 7 Dec 2185, 19:18 | fuck cerberus @.n7shepard yea sometims but nostly its wishing i was importnat like ppl think 7 Dec 2185, 19:23 | fuck cerberus @.n7shepard sodry im dnrky 7 Dec 2185, 19:25 | fuck cerberus @.n7shepard drunk 7 Dec 2185, 19:26 | fuck cerberus @.n7shepard playfn jenga w archalgnl n take a shot evryw time u fuck up 7 Dec 2185, 19:28 | fuck cerberus @.n7shepard im rly bad at jenga 7 Dec 2185, 19:32 | fuck cerberus @.n7shepard oh gosh i am so sorry for all of that 8 Dec 2185, 07:21

fuck cerberus @.n7shepard retweeted Systems Alliance @.systemsalliance Commander Shepard: back from the dead, or an imposter on twitter defacing her name and legacy? [a link to an article speculating on the rumors and supposed sightings of Commander Zofia Shepard and on the erratic twitter usage from her verified account that the Alliance is having difficulties tracing or shutting down] 8 Dec 2185, 15:01

fuck cerberus @.n7shepard @.counciloranderson i'm sorry for publicly embarrassing myself 8 Dec 2185, 15:36 | fuck cerberus @.n7shepard @.counciloranderson you raised me better than this 8 Dec 2185, 15:37 | fuck cerberus @ n7shepard @.ambassadorudina i stand by embarrassing you. fuck you. 8 Dec 2185, 15:40

fuck cerberus @.n7shepard retweeted i live in hell @.shitpostingsalarian So I guess I kind of got drunk texted my Commander Shepard last night. 8 Dec 2185, 15:51

i live in hell @.shitpostingsalarian @.n7shepard What are we? Are you into women? Salarians? 8 Dec 2185, 16:20 | fuck cerberus @.n7shepard yes and i'm sure i could be but i'll admit to not having known v. many salarians 8 Dec 2185 17:30 | i live in hell @.shitpostingsalarian I should probably say now I'm flattered but my heart belongs to Archangel. 9 Dec 2185, 01:27 | fuck cerberus @.n7shepard girl same 9 Dec 2185, 03:19

Normandy's Best Jokes @.bestdamnpilot @.n7shepard Soooo does ““Archangel”” know about the depth of your feelings?9 Dec 2185, 06:13 | Normandy's Best Jokes @.bestdamnpilot @.n7shepard You counting on him not having a Twitter to keep him from finding out? 9 Dec 2185, 06:15 | Normandy's Best Jokes @.bestdamnpilot @.n7shepard I'm gonna tell him. 9 Dec 2185, 06:21 | fuck cerberus @.n7shepard i don't have feelings and i am on my way to the cockpit to kick your ass 9 Dec 2185, 06:23

Lazarus Cell Lieutenant @.lazaruslt @.n7shepard M politely requests that you cut it out. 11 Dec 2185, 18:02 | fuck cerberus @.n7shepard tell her to say it to my face 11 Dec 2185, 20:37

fuck cerberus @.n7shepard does anyone know how to keep pet fish alive. asking for a friend 17 Dec 2185, 22:31 [a very small sampling of replies to this tweet follow]

fuck cerberus @.n7shepard does anyone know how to keep pet fish alive. asking for a friend 17 Dec 2185, 22:31 | humans r gross @.bangboomboom put them in water 17 Dec 2185, 23:24

fuck cerberus @.n7shepard does anyone know how to keep pet fish alive. asking for a friend 17 Dec 2185, 22:31 | earth is great @.humansearth1st EDEN PRIME WAS A COVER UP THE ALLIANCE HAS SOLD US OUT TO THE COUNCIL 17 Dec 2185, 22:34

fuck cerberus @.n7shepard does anyone know how to keep pet fish alive. asking for a friend 17 Dec 2185, 22:31 | Matron of Fish @.illiumveterinary It depends on what kind they are. [a link to an article detailing life spans, tank dimensions, and feeding habits for a number of commonly-purchased souvenir fish] 18 Dec 2185, 10:13

fuck cerberus @.n7shepard first person saying disrespectful shit about horizon in my mentions, i'm. actually just fucking don't. 28 Dec 2185, 23:43

fuck cerberus @.n7shepard @.counciloranderson are you getting any of my emails i'm not sure it's going thru 29 Dec 2185, 03:51

fuck cerberus @.n7shepard anyone else ever told their best friend he's stupid but it's actually you who's stupid 02 Jan 2186, 03:31 | fuck cerberus @.n7shepard one of my best friends. ex one of my best friends 02 Jan 2186, 03:50

urdnot wrex @.urdnotwrex shepard why do you want me to have this what do i do 05 Jan 2186, 15:19 | thresher maw hell @.n7shepard @ me, buddy 05 Jan 2186, 17:29

urdnot wrex @.urdnotwrex @.n7shepard 05 Jan 2186, 18:20 | thresher maw hell @.n7shepard you can use 'reply' too 05 Jan 2186, 18:29 | urdnot wrex @.urdnotwrex why do you want me to do this 05 Jan 2186, 18:46 | thresher maw hell @.n7shepard i dunno it can be kinda fun sometimes 05 Jan 2186, 18:50

fuck cerberus @.n7shepard does anyone know how to keep pet fish alive. asking for a friend 17 Dec 2185, 22:31 | urdnot wrex @.urdnotwrex don't. eat them. 7 Jan 2186, 04:51

Liara @.drtsoni @.n7shepard Fine. Are you happy? 11 Jan 2185, 11:46 | murder is bad, kids @.n7shepard super happy 12 Jan 2185, 02:19

murder is bad, kids @.n7shepard LOOK AT HIM [a picture of a space hamster, blurry, with flare off the glass of its tank] 14 Jan 2185, 04:14

murder is bad, kids @.n7shepard @.pontifex what is the church's stance on human/alien relationships 20 Jan 2185, 23:10

Citadel Ambassador @.ambassadorudina @.n7shepard You are an embarrassment to humanity. This is one of many reasons why your Spectre status was revoked. 21 Jan 2185, 09:35 | murder is bad, kids @.n7shepard don't be jealous because you can't get laid 21 Jan 2185, 11:52 | Human Councilor @.counciloranderson @.n7shepard @.ambassadorudina You are both adults. Keep it private if you have to fight. 21 Jan 2185, 12:14

Lazarus Cell Lieutenant @.lazaruslt @.n7shepard Could you maybe keep a diary instead of throwing it all into public? Maybe? 24 Jan 2185, 11:36 | murder is bad, kids @.n7shepard you cerb shits would read it anyway and at least throwing it in public gives udina conniptions 24 Jan 2185, 12:09

murder is bad, kids @.n7shepard @.lazaruslt can we install an automated fish feeding thing 29 Jan 2185, 04:48 | Lazarus Cell Lieutenant @.lazaruslt No. 29 Jan 2185, 5:04

murder is bad, kids @.n7shepard @.pontifex

murder is bad, kids @.n7shepard @.pontifex what is the church's stance on human/alien relationships

04 Feb 2185, 09:13

Garrus Vakarian @.gvakarian @.pontifex I apologize on behalf of @.n7shepard 4 Feb 2185, 15:52 | screaming @.n7shepard hOW LONG HAVE YOU BEEN ON TWITTER 4 Feb 2185, 15:53 | Garrus Vakarian @.gvakarian Four years. 4 Feb 2185, 16:02 | screaming @.n7shepard FUCK 4 Feb 2185, 16:05 | Garrus Vakarian @.gvakarian I never used it so it’s not surprising you forgot. 4 Feb 2185, 16:07 | screaming @.n7shepard i almost forgot my own name my guy but that's nice of you to give me another excuse 4 Feb 2185, 16:12 | screaming @.n7shepard bUT WHY DIDN'T YOU TELL ME 4 Feb 2185, 16:13 | screaming @.n7shepard WHY DID YOU LET ME EMBARRASS MYSELF TALKING ABOUT YOU 4 Feb 2185, 16:14 | Garrus Vakarian @.gvakarian It's the closest I've ever gotten to insight about your feelings on anything. 4 Feb 2185, 16:16 | screaming @.n7shepard i don't have feelings and i'm never coming out of this room again 4 Feb 2185, 16:19 | screaming @.n7shepard i'm locking the door and shooting out the controls 4 Feb 2185, 16:21 | Lazarus Cell Lieutenant @.lazaruslt Please do not break the ship because you finally learned how to feel shame. 4 Feb 2185, 16:34 | Lazarus Cell Lieutenant @.lazaruslt M tells me to tell you we are in her office doing a dramatic reading of your tweets. 4 Feb 2185, 16:37 | screaming @.n7shepard i want to be mad but i'm just surprised she has a sense of humor 4 Feb 2185, 16:41

screaming @.n7shepard @.gvakarian i can't ever look you in the eyes again 4 Feb 2185, 16:43 | Liara @.drtsoni I think you've always been too short to look him in the eye. 4 Feb 2185, 16:52 | screaming @.n7shepard how can you do this to me 4 Feb 2185, 16:57 | Liara @.drtsoni I mean, I'm too short too. 4 Feb 2185, 17:12

urdnot wrex @.urdnotwrex all the beings in the galaxy and you pick not just a turian but THAT turian 5 Feb 2185, 03:55 | Garrus Vakarian @.gvakarian Thanks. 5 Feb 2185, 04:16 | screaming @.n7shepard with you out there cloistered on tuchanka i couldn't go for first best being in the galaxy <3 5 Feb 2185, 04:20 | Garrus Vakarian @.gvakarian Oh, thanks, I see how it is. 5 Feb 2185, 04:26 | urdnot wrex @.urdnotwrex what is less than 3 5 Feb 2185, 04:31 | screaming @.n7shepard your ranking in my heart 5 Feb 2185, 04:35 | Lazarus Cell Lieutenant @.lazaruslt Might as well stop trying to compete with this bromance now @.gvakarian 5 Feb 2185, 04:44 | Garrus Vakarian @.gvakarian I always knew I never could. 5 Feb 2185, 04:49

The Commander is the Real Joke @.bestdamnpilot @.gvakarian @.n7shepard holy shit, this is all the funniest thing I've read in years. 5 Feb 2185, 09:16 | screaming @.n7shepard i hope this mission we're prepping for kills all of us 5 Feb 2185, 09:22

[thesolitarystripe]

Tindyl’s  Departure

There was a a really rocky start of Shadowlands for Tindyl and I. We left the guild that we created for an assortment of reasons that I won’t get into but, this entry was something I wrote to both vent my feelings and to document Tindyl’s journey. All of these posts are out of order, I know. Someday, all these tidbits will add up to a big beautiful story that flows really well. Today is not that day.  As always, I do not own any rights to Blizzard Entertainment’s world, characters or original stories. I do however, claim rights to Tindyl, all related side characters and her story.

An oddly unwelcoming breeze sifted through the wide corridors of Oribos on this day; the day Archdruid Tindyl found herself sitting alone within the Ring of Transference. This new city with its tall steepled ceilings, high arching pillars, and cold stone floors never held the same homey feeling Boralus had come to bear but especially now, it felt empty, frigid. Tindyl had rested her back against one of the solid walls, knees drawn up toward her chest as heroes and champions bustled by, eager to trade with the nearest dealer. She had stopped briefly with the local alchemist and busied herself with dealings there, but it hardly held her interest once she acquired her vials. Those small crystalline containers rested in the warm palms of her hands, icy against her purple skin. What was their purpose now anyway? Dark eyes glanced downward, Tindyl’s chin dipping after them until her silver hair fell over her brow. Why had she bought so many if—

“There she is my little sapling.”

Tindyl’s brows knitted together at the unwelcomed intimacy with which she was being addressed but her head snapped upward in hearing the tone that dripped with familiarity; so much so, that her heart skipped in her chest. Deep blue, nearly black, met those chestnut eyes she had left back near the seas that soaked Boralus.

“How!” The night elf shot upright, her vials clinking against the ground as they fell from her hands. Before she could say anymore, two large arms wrapped around her shoulders, pulling her down and into the warm chest of the human she’d fallen in love with all those years ago. While public displays of affection were not customary in her home, it had been so long since she had been held so tenderly, she felt the staunch composure of her people melt away with eagerness. Tindyl’s arms clasped around the warrior, fingers clenching at his tunic as he pulled her against his chest. Tears bit at the corners of her eyes, but her fangs struck harder at her lower lip, fighting to keep them at bay. “Dalah,” she breathed into his chest.

“What’s a pretty moon child like you doing sitting here all alone on the floor?” He whispered into the tendrils of her hair, lips tickling the hard ridge of her ear. Their embrace didn’t loosen. The energy between them simmered violently, a desperate need to keep the physical contact emanating from the archdruid who, despite her height, practically hung against the human male’s body. “Come, I feel we have much to talk about.” His lips found the crown of her head, pressing a single kiss there before he took her by the arms and reluctantly pushed her from him. Their eyes met and lingered, as if they were two souls meeting again in the afterlife.

The warrior took one of Tindyl’s hands and placed it upon his bicep—escorting her out of the main hub and outside where the clouds swirled pleasantly and the wind constantly blew. They walked around the outer path of the ring until a quiet place, undisturbed by others, was found. The two of them sat near the edge and let their feet dangle downward into the ethers.

“I know you didn’t miss me that much,” he finally broke the silence, leaning over from where he sat to wipe a rebellious tear from Tindyl’s cheek. “What has you so distraught my love? Why are you hunkered down in Oribos all alone? I half expected to see you and Kagurah haggling with the vendors over the price of your precious herbs.”

“You have a lot of questions for a man that said he wasn’t ready for the next mission.” Tindyl clasped her hands together in her lap, looking sternly at her lover who questioned her so adamantly.

“I know,” he chuckled in that way men do when they know they’ve got explaining to do. “I wasn’t ready Tindyl. After all we had seen, the fight with N’Zoth—” His words trailed off as his mind wandered to those darker times. “It was true that I wasn’t ready to embark on this quest so quickly but, I suppose you could say that being away from you drove me madder than those insidious whispers still plaguing my mind.” He flashed one of those charming smiles that he knew had a strong chance of getting him out of trouble. Tindyl rolled her eyes, outwardly miffed still but reached across the distance between them and grabbed her lover’s hand.

“Still fluent in your tawdry flirtations,” she mused firmly, a smile threatening to show itself.

“Cheesy as ever but, you’ve learned to love it,” he winked at her, fingers giving hers a few small squeezes.

“I’m glad you’re here,” she said finally, her voice tight as that persistent lump found its way into her throat again.

“What’s going on?”

“Where do I even begin…” Tindyl looked out into the horizon, watching as the pinks and blues of the sky mingled and shaded it a soft purple hue.

“Start from the moment I last saw you,” he cooed, leaning back onto his elbow and pressing her hand into the middle of his chest. And so she told the story of her travel to Oribos—of her journey through the Shadowlands and entreating all the Covenants. The warrior interrupted her, “Ah yes, let me guess, you sided with the Night Fae, I knew it the moment I landed there.” Tindyl pushed him in the chest, glaring at him but smiling just the same.

“Did you want to hear the story or not, Beans.”

“Always,” he pried her hand from his chest and kissed the tips of her fingers.

When her tale was finished—she had recounted all she had done for the Night Fae and people of Ardenweald. There was no easy way to discuss the more personal goings on and she faltered many times to continue. Sensing her hesitance, the warrior kneaded the back of Tindyl’s hand with his thumb, looking up at her and providing an encouraging smile.

“I left the guild.”

“What?” Beans sat upright quickly, “but you love—”

“I had to leave.” It was here her stony countenance failed her. She wept freely, silently as he held her hand. “I couldn’t manage anymore, Beans.” Tindyl looked to her lover for the reassurance that she had made the right choice. She had spent most of her time since coming to the Shadowlands doubting herself and her ability to lead.

“What do you mean? You’re a wonderful leader, strong, firm, resilient—”

“I am certainly none of those things, even you said yourself, I’m but a sapling.”

Silence fell between them. Tindyl’s gaze rested still on the clouds that ebbed and flowed, twisting around each other and nuzzling into the full pillowy edges of one another. Beans released the night elf’s hand and took up her chin instead; he turned her eyes toward his and regarded her sharply.

“Young as you may be for your kind, you are more powerful than you know. I have served in the Alliance forces for many years, more than I care to recount, and never—of all the generals I’ve seen, have I seen troops rally behind someone like they do around you.”

A sharp breath burst forth from Tindyl, her sorrow desperate to be set free. The gust brought a harsh sob out from her lungs as she pressed her chin down into Beans’ hand until his palm slid up to hold her cheek. Her shoulders shook with the weight of her cries that feel from her with ease as her lover’s comforting presence allowed her the space to feel. She no longer had to uphold the unbothered façade of the guild leader any longer.

“Oh, my little moon beam.” The warrior pushed himself back from the edge of the ring, grabbed the back of Tindyl’s neck and pulled her toward him until his other arm could wrap around her torso and bring her into his body. Despite their size difference, their bodies fit together with ease, his legs set wide so that Tindyl could lay between them with her head cradled in the curve of his neck and shoulder. “I’m sorry I wasn’t here,” he sighed regretfully. “I should have been.” Tindyl’s soft cries were all that echoed around them now, the wind lifting them high into the air and carrying their burden away from her. Beans held his beloved until her body stilled and her breath evened; his fingers played in her hair, stroking the length of it and admiring the leaves that adorned her head. As far as they were from Azeroth, she still smelled of the forest, earthy and clean. Beans hugged her tightly and breathed in her scent before letting a long breath flow from his lungs.

“What now,” she finally whispered, voice raspy from her tears.

Beans looked out at the horizon, his hand cradling Tindyl’s head while his other arm held her in close.

“We do what we’ve always done,” he tilted the night elf’s head back so that he might capture her gaze once more. “We save the world together, just us—if that’s how you wish it to be.” Beans kissed her forehead, lingering for several moments before releasing her. “We conquer the Shadowlands together and I’ll work on my personal side mission.”

“Side mission?” Tindyl sat up, drying her eyes with the edge of her tabard, still displaying Teldrassil in all its ivory glory.

“To make sure you realize your worth and how important you are to this realm. You may think your guild doesn’t need you—but many others do, including me.”

Tindyl looked upon the face of her lover incredulously. Sometimes it baffled her that he was a human when in so many ways he seemed much farther along in maturity than she. How was it that she had such tremendous luck that day they bumped into one another in Boralus. Beans stared at her then, smiling in that inviting way that always managed to draw her in, even when she wanted to be cross with him.

“I love you,” he cooed sweetly. He was so endearingly human with how frequently and openly he was able to express his natural feelings.

“Kene’thil surfas, my beloved.”

“Ooh, I love it when you talk Darnassian to me!” Beans leaned in and peppered Tindyl’s face and neck with kisses, leaving the night elf shrieking in delight as she pushed him away.

“Stop it! You’re such a child,” she huffed playfully.

“I mean you’re the one who is technically, what, in her twenties by human standards?”

“I’m 305 years old! You’d better watch your tongue, young babe.”

The two dissolved into laughter, quieting only when a resident of Oribos happened to walk by. They then fell into easy chatter about their future, denying then the moment to linger on heavier topics; while their time discussing guild matters was far from over, it was clear the young Kaldorei needed the reprieve in the safety of someone she loved and the warrior was more than happy to allow her that time.

[cheeriecherry]

Birds Of A Feather [4/7]

Hawks x Fem!Reader

Warnings: some swearing, a kiss

Part 4/7

By the end of the week, you’re walking into Hawks’ penthouse with nothing but a duffel bag of clothes. Most of your stuff had been moved to storage, but you’d told him you’d bring your own sheets, blankets, and pillows for the couch. He’d stared at you like you’d grown a second head.

He’d then gone on a tangent about how he had guest rooms, obviously, and how his sheets would be softer than yours. He’s probably not wrong, with his 1200 thread count egyptian cotton, but the way he says it ruffles you a bit. You don’t mention it, though. You don’t want to give him any kind of reason to kick you out.

“Hey chickadee, you gonna stand in the entrance all night, or are you gonna come in?”

You snap out of your stupor when Hawks calls to you, and continue lugging your things through the door.

The inside of the penthouse is beautiful; tastefully decorated (probably professionally), and it’s spacious rough that you could spread your wings out fully. The doorways are wider than average, likely catering to your boss’ specific needs. The entire place is gorgeous, immaculate even, and any person in their right mind would kill to live here.

You kind of detest it.

“I had some people come in this afternoon and set up the guest suite for you,” he says, kicking off his boots and flopping onto the couch. “They also brought some of your uniforms in from the agency, so you can change here. You won’t have to go in so early.”

“Thank you,” you tell him, and you mean it. Personal opinions aside, he’s let you into his home out of kindness. You’ll not soon disrespect that.

“Ah, you’re standing and staring again. Are you that impressed with the place?”

You snap back to attention for a second time, and hike your bag further up your shoulder. “I-it’s not that!” you try to explain, “I was just expecting something...different?”

Hawks sits up on the couch. “Whadya mean?”

“I dunno.” You shrug. “More lived in, I guess? Don’t get me wrong, it’s wonderful here, especially the balcony, but it’s also very...what’s the word…”

“Mature and charming?” he tries, but you shake your head.

He offers a few more suggestions, things like ‘perfect’ and ‘homey’ and ‘colourful’, each word hitting further and further from your mark.

Then it comes to you. “Monotone and sterile!” you nearly shout, your success momentarily quieting your desire to be polite. “It’s like it’s fresh out of a magazine, or a model home. Don��t take it the wrong way, Boss, I’m not hating on your tastes, but if I’m gonna be staying here indefinitely, I’m gonna have to add some personal touches.” You remember your manners. “If that’s okay…”

You worry that you may have offended him, with the way he’s looking at you, but a smile slowly spreads across his face, his eyes sparkling.

“Finally,” he sighs, “someone who speaks their damn mind.”

“Eh?”

“Do you know how many of the people I’ve invited here tell me ‘how beautiful’ it is?” He adjusts his wings and settles comfortably back into the couch. “All of them. Every single one. And look, I’m grateful that I’ve got this place, but it’s just a house. No sentimentality, no memories...just a space.”

“Well...it’s polite to not insult someone’s home when they invite you over…” you mumble, the severity of your outburst making your face heat up.

“Maybe,” he says. “Or maybe they’re all schmoozing and hoping to get on my good side.”

The bitterness in his tone doesn’t go unnoticed by you, but you decide to leave it be. He should be free to be himself in his own home, and not have to put up any kind of front. You hoped he’d supply you the same courtesy, when you inevitably would wake up on the wrong side of the bed some mornings.

“Anyways,” he flips the TV on and tosses the remote to the side, “it’s late. You should probably unpack your stuff before you’re too tired.”

“Yeah…” you realize how wiped out you are as the weariness starts to settle in. “I’ve got tomorrow off though, so...if I wake up on time, I’ll bring you curry.”

You can hear him cheering as you walk down the hall to the guest room, and you smile. You’ll never understand his love for chicken, even though his enthusiasm boosted your confidence.

The room is spacious and airy, and has a beautiful view of the city. The bed itself is probably big enough to hold three people, and you’re silently grateful that your wings won’t be hanging on the floor while you sleep anymore. 

You set your bag down by the door, and flop face first onto the mattress. God, it was the most plush thing you’d ever had the pleasure to lay on.

“I’ll unpack tomorrow,” you mumble, sinking further into the sheets and, eventually, sleep.

In the distance, you hear Hawks snoring.

----

You wake up the next day to sunlight hitting your face. It’s bright, and annoying, and too warm, and your bed really wants you to keep sleeping but you don’t think you can.

You sit up.

You can feel that your hair is a disheveled mess, and your tongue feels gummy and sour.

“Blegh.”

You (regrettably) roll out of bed and make your way to the bathroom to fix your morning vibes, checking the time along the way. Ten is later than you would have liked to wake up, but you suppose you really needed the sleep. And you did, surprisingly, feel more rested than you had in months.

It’s ten thirty by the time you’re done in the washroom, overall energy more put together and presentable, and you waste no time heading for the kitchen.

The kitchen which is...painfully under-stocked. A couple of condiments and wilting vegetables in the fridge...some frozen meat in the freezer...a bag of rice under the sink, for some reason, and...a completely full spice rack, every bottle unopened.

You knew your boss didn’t spend a lot of time at home, but this was just sad. 

You make a mental note to go shopping later.

Thankfully he seems to have the necessary ingredients for chicken curry, which you’re happy about. It means you won’t have to brave the store just yet.

Bit by bit, you pull out what you need in order to cook, only sitting down when you have a moment to spare as the rice cooks.

‘Hey Boss, I’m making curry for lunch. Want me to bring you some?’

You send him a text. It’s still fairly early, and you know he has his meetings in the morning, so you doubt that he’ll get back to you before-

Your phone buzzes.

‘Chickadee, you sure know the way to my heart. I’ll leave my office window open.’

You send him a thumbs up emoji.

----

Once the food is finished, you pack it up into two containers, opting to leave the rest in the pot for now. You made lots, enough to get several meals out of it, just in case Hawks pulled his ‘too busy to cook’ excuse when trying to convince you to order take-out.

It doesn’t take long to fly to the agency, the skies much clearer than the roads. The city itself seems relatively calm, no sounds of explosions or screaming. There is a distant plume of dark smoke on the horizon, though…

But there were other heroes in the area. You wouldn’t be missed if you didn’t show up for one disaster...right?

But then you land in the window of your boss’ office, and your worry spikes. The room is empty, door closed, lights off, paperwork strewn about on the desk...like he’d run off in a hurry.

You pull your phone out and send him a text.

‘Lemme know if something came up. I brought lunch, but I can put it away for later. Stay safe!

-Chickadee’

He doesn’t reply, but that’s expected if he’s dealing with some kind of crisis. Maybe you should have headed to whatever disaster you’d seen earlier...if it was bad enough to call on your boss, it must be a pretty dire situation. Maybe he could use an extra pair of wings?

You sigh and take a seat beside the window, staring out at the city skyline. The black smoke across the way has turned to a dusty grey colour, a much less threatening hue, and one that bode well for any possible fires.

He’ll be fine, you decide, with other heroes undoubtedly on the scene. By the time you’d get there, whatever was happening would be dealt with.

You pull out your phone to scroll through the news while you eat.

Nothing urgent appears on the screen, nothing to incline that you were needed somewhere, nothing to say extra help was needed. Just day-old stories, gossip columns, the occasional media review. You do startle a little when a new article pops up that’s focused around your boss. You click on it, expecting to see some kind of haggard scene...but you only laugh.

“Hawks, most eligible bachelor in Japan, off the market?” You scroll further into the article to see what kind of nonsense the reporters have come up with this time.

What you don’t expect, is to find pictures of yourself littering the page. Pictures of you and Hawks together. On patrol, talking over lunch at a cafe he took you to one time, walking into his agency side by side, and -most recently- the two of you landing on his balcony.

You’re slightly panicked, and very, very flustered. Had he seen the column? God, he was probably used to it, though, being as popular as he was. All he had to do was look at someone and the media would start crying wolf, which in your opinion, was stupid.

Still, the more you read the article, the more you find it has some good points. You two did spend a lot of time together, more than he did with any of his other friends. But that’s all you are. Friends. Friends, and completely platonic roommates.

You weren’t sure why that made your heart sink so much.

So you copied the link to the article and sent it to him, typing a quick ‘lol’ afterwards. At the very least, he might get a laugh out of it.

----

You finish eating in record time, scarfing down a portion and a half of curry. It was lonely, sitting in Hawks’ office by yourself. You wondered if he ever felt like that when he was up here on his own. He was too busy for most things, too fast for his own good. Did that include friendships? He made time for you when he could, but you understood the busy and demanding life of a hero...other people might not.

You...understood.

The dull ache that you’ve felt in your chest for the past year returns, suddenly. The sadness and grief, the emptiness and all-encompassing tiredness, the big overhanging question of ‘what’s even the point?’. The point of being a hero, the point of suffering for the people who love you and hate you and who don’t even know you.

“Shit,” you sigh, your head and shoulders hanging low, wing dragging against the floor.

Hawks had brightened your life up so much these last few months. He’d brought the smile back to your face, the joy back to flying. You missed him when he was gone, worried for him when he was off on missions, fuck, you even cooked him lunch of your day off just so you could spend time together.

You were head over heels for him, and so totally screwed.

----

Hawks doesn’t return home until late that night. Far past your usual bedtime, but you’re far too distressed to sleep. If you hadn’t had your earlier revelation, you’d have chalked it up to ‘being worried’. But now?

Now that you knew you had feelings for him, all your thoughts were clouded. You were concerned because you liked him. You hung out with him because you liked him. Everything was because you liked him!

It was fucking with you a bit.

“What are you still doing up?” his voice sounds from the front entryway, startling you bad enough that you almost fall off the couch.

Your wide eyes snap to him, immediately taking him in. He’s worse for wear, that’s for sure. His uniform is singed in places, and you’re pretty sure the scuff on his neck is a burn. Most notably are his wings. Or lack thereof. 

Featherless red nubs is a more accurate description.

“You look like shit,” you say, keeping the air about you casual.

He makes his way over to you and finds a seat on the couch adjacent, wincing as he sits a little too quickly.

“Thanks, chickadee. You always know what to say to make me feel better.”

Your face heats up. “I-I just mean! Long day?”

He groans, letting his head fall back against the cushions. You’re vaguely aware that he’s started talking, but the only thing you can pay attention to is the narrow column of his exposed throat, and how badly you wanted to lean over and press your lips against it.

You snap out of your daze when he nudges you with his foot.

“I feel like I’m talking to a wall,” you quips, devoid of any malice.

“Sorry,” you mumble, “what were you saying?”

“I was saying that we should hang out now that I’ve got a few days off. Kick our feet up, instead of culminating in a stuffy office.”

You shake your head. “As much as I’d love to, I still have work. Remember? I was already off today, I can’t miss more days.”

He whines, looking at you with sad puppy eyes. “It’ll be boring here by myself. You make the day more fun.”

“Hawks, I can’t-”

“Keigo.”

You perk up. “Huh?”

He rearranges himself on the couch so he can look at you more comfortably. “My name is Takami Keigo. Call me Keigo when it’s just us, okay?”

You consider it. “Why not Takami? That’s polite here, right? To use the surname?”

He nods. “Unless you’re close with the person. Family, good friends, the like.”

Your wings puff up, fully betraying the fact that you’re pleased he considers you a ‘good friend’. It doesn’t go unnoticed, and a teasing grin spreads across Haw-Keigo’s face.

“See? You waaaaant to. Say it with me: Kei-”

“Keigo.”

You don’t miss the way his cheeks tinge pink.

“You got it. And now, since we’re on a first name basis, I’m asking you to take a few days off to hang out with me.”

You’re exasperated.

“C’mon chickadee.”

“No.”

“Pleeeeease?”

“No!”

“Y/N…”

“No, Keigo.”

“Alright then. Now, as your boss, I’m officially giving you three days off.”

“You can’t just do that!”

“I can!”

“Hawks!”

“Keigo.”

“Sorry. Keigo!”

His expression is cheeky as you go back and forth for a while, and he’s unrelenting even as you gently beat him with a couch pillow.

It eventually morphs into a small war, the two of you chasing each other around the apartment, wielding whatever cushions you can get your hands on. You eventually end up tripping over the coffee table, shouting as you smack your foot and fall into an ungraceful heap on your back. Keigo wastes no time pouncing on you and pinning your arms beside your head.

Your wings are splayed out on either side of you, and he’s careful not to kneel on them. Even with your foot throbbing the way it is, he knows you could easily get away if you tried. But you don’t struggle. Instead you lay there quietly, out of breath, eyes locked on his. He can feel the warmth creeping up his neck, and you can see the redness returning to his cheeks.

“I...saw the article you sent to me today,” he begins, voice low. “I’m sorry they brought you into it.”

“I don’t mind,” you admit, “I just worry it might be detrimental to you. Some of your fans will be pissed.”

“Seriously?” He sits up on your chest, releasing your wrists. “You’re not online much, are you. Most of my fans ship us.”

“The hell does that mean?”

He laughs, soft of melodious. “It means that they like the idea of us. As a couple.”

“And it doesn’t bother you?” you wonder.

“No? Why would it?”

You avert your gaze from him, your insecurities and doubts creeping in under the scrutiny of his golden eyes. “I...guess you could just...do better, is all.”

“Chickadee...Y/N, look at me.”

You squeeze your eyes shut and shake your head. You feel very exposed laid out on the carpet, and you wish you’d never said anything.

A warm hand cups your cheek. “C’mon, sweetheart. Let me see those pretty eyes.”

You’re so flustered you don’t know what to do with yourself. Your heart is beating rapidly against your ribcage, and you’re positive he can see your embarrassment when you finally do as he asks.

But he only smiles gently at you, leaning down to rest his forehead against yours.

“Listen to me, and listen well. You’re the best I can do. You bring out everything good in me, and make me forget the bad. You make me happy.”

“Keigo-”

He shushes you by bringing your lips together.

[frostsinth]

Royal Flush - Pt. 9

Part 1|2|3|4|5|6|7|8 - MasterList - Art - Art - Art - Art - Art - Art - Art - Art (so much Art...) 

Ironically (not ironic), I actually wrote part 10 before I came back and wrote this part. Let me say, this is a family heavy chapter. It’s a bit intense, but I hope you’ll be able to bear with me so we can get to the next one. Because homg... it’s worth it. Which you may see, based upon where I left this one off.

Read more of my ramblings on my MasterList above, and feel free to BuyMeACoffee while you’re there to support my unbridled insanity (#obsession). Check out all the artwork and related posts for these guys by clicking #Royal Flush. Like what you see? You can commission me for an art piece or story. Just shoot me a DM!

Thanks to everyone for all your support so far. Enjoy!

My spine itched to move, my fingers longed to twist and wring about themselves. But I sat still, letting the carriage bounce along around me. Staring out the window with as blank a face as I could muster. Externally, my features were fixed, my posture straight. Internally? I thought my heart might just burst. It beat hard and fast against my breast, slamming into my ribcage with a reckless abandon that belittled its delicacy. My stomach turned and flipped in knots. I was grateful for my darker complexion at that moment. It meant that nobody could quite tell how sick I was feeling. Save for those who already knew the various shades of my complexion, of course, and those who shared it.

 I chanced a glance at Grier, sitting across from me in the carriage. I wondered if he noticed the change; he hadn’t known me long. Though I supposed he had seen quite the fair variety of the shades my skin could become, based upon how much he seemed to enjoy getting me flustered. I pondered for a moment if I would recognize his skin if he flushed or paled. I wondered if he had already in the past, but I simply could not tell, as his particular shade of green was foreign enough to befuddle my senses. Would he turn red when embarrassed, as persons of a fairer complexion did? Or perhaps his color would darken, as mine did? I amused myself with the thought that perhaps he would turn an entirely different color. Purple would look quite fetching on him, I thought.

It was the first time we had really seen each other since the previous morning, and he was watching me. I could feel his eyes on me, for the entirety of the ride. More than once he had tried to pull me into a conversation, but when I would only give short, polite answers, he eventually gave up. Leaving us in the awkward silence we sat in now. I didn’t mind overly, staring out the window as the countryside passed by. Each mile ticking by like a year of my life; even though we moved much faster than any normal carriage. What should have taken us nearly two days now took less than half of one. We had left before the sun had crested the horizon, and expected to be at the Kingdom walls by noon at the latest. Grier assured me we were moving a little slower than normal, as we had a large contingency of goblins in tow. I wasn’t sure if I preferred the speed, or would have rather lingered in the journey. I dreaded this day more than I could ever hope to fully acknowledge. 

Perhaps the King had sensed that, and let me wallow rather than pressing too hard for my attention, despite the fact that I knew he wanted to. Despite the fact that our last interaction had been set in a completely different tone... His expressions ranged wild and free on his sharp features; from his own much more subdued anxiousness, to a soft anger at the corners of his eyes, then to a strange somberness which seemed to thicken his already prominent brow, then again to worry, followed by a distant, glazed over look… I worried what the court would think of this ‘radical’ display. Not to mention his choice of attire. A ruffled cream shirt tucked into high waisted black trousers with tiny golden embroidery. Topped off by a flowing coat of silken pink and blue squares that he wore draped across his shoulders and clasped at his neck with a gold chain rather than with his arms through the sleeves. Relatively conservative by his standards, I supposed, but outlandish by my Kingdom’s. I worked out a lump in my throat with a small swallow as the walls loomed over our heads.

We slowed as we entered the lower city in order to disperse the goblins to their duties as per our discussions and plans with the Masters. Something was off though. The people cowered and quivered in the shadows of their homes. Looking out with surprise and suspicion as Damjan ordered his contingent about in abrupt goblinese. I resisted the urge to sigh. This was not off to a great start… I noticed there seemed to be a prominent lack of city guards. And I doubted it was an oversight. A soft shout of alarm had me craning my neck about to look almost behind us. The goblins were beginning to set up a station, including a tent, where they could have the citizens line up to be treated or warded. But the magic utilized in the process had already set the citizens on edge, and they were beginning to gather in the streets in even larger numbers, like moths to a flame. Pouring out of their abodes and whispering in anxious, hushed tones. I gritted my teeth, glancing at Grier. His own brow was furrowed. Why had Valerianus not readied the people, as he had promised? Surely they would then know why the goblins were here. Surely an order would have already been established. This felt more like panic and confusion. One that threatened to tip over into aggression...

Another shout had my next decision made for me, and I moved for the door before I could second guess it. Grier started to say something, but the door was already open by the time he did, and I stepped out into the streets. A rippling murmur spread through the crowd as I emerged, straightening to my full height and looking around. I stiffened my spine, considering the gathered as I stepped around the horses at the front of the carriage. Very aware of at least a hundred sets of eyes following me.

“Excuse me, good sir.” I called out to one of the more well-dressed members (though by this I merely meant that his clothes had less holes and stains than his fellows). His eyes went wide with recognition, and him and the immediate surrounding members of the crowd quickly dropped into a bow. The rest of the gathered began to follow suit. I took heart in that, and walked over to him. “Rise, sir, I would speak with you if I may.”

“B-beggin’ yer pardon, yer Princeliness… sir…” Mumbled the man, straightening slightly. An unnatural hush had fallen over the crowd. “How can I be of service, my Lord?”

“I am looking for someone in charge.” I started, and I saw his eyes dart up to me in surprise. I almost sighed; yes, of course, I was someone in charge. “... An elder. Your elected official.” I clarified. “Someone to speak for you.”

“Ah… I supposin’ that would be me then, my Lord.” He replied, dipping his head low.

“Excellent.” I nodded to him. “May I have your name, good sir?”

He stammered a few times uselessly first. “I am Jeb, my Lord, if it be pleasin’ ya.”

“Mister Jeb,” I returned, then glanced about at the gathering, “Word was sent to us of the outbreak here in the lower city. Where are the sick being housed?”

Eyes widened at that, and a soft murmur whipped like a chilly breeze through the crowd. The townsman's eyes also stretched, then filled with a wariness, and I saw them flick over my shoulder. I could hear the soft click of boots on stone behind me and didn’t have to stretch my imagination far to figure out who approached. Jeb’s eyes flicked back to me anxiously.

“Ah… We are keepin’ the worst in the main temple, My Lord…”

I nodded. “Thank you, Mister Jeb. Would you be so kind as to escort the goblin Masters there to see to them?”

There was a stiff silence again, and I saw the man glance about nervously. He was rather young still, though certainly older than me. I could see lines into the corners of his face and flecks of silver in his greasy black hair. But his eyes were bright, and his back unbowed. I guessed he was perhaps at most a decade or two my senior.

“Beggin yer pardon, my Prince… sir…” He hesitated, glancing around, “... What are yer… Masters… to be doing with them?”

I heard Grier scoff lightly behind me and there was a sharp intake of breath from the gathered. “Why, using their magic to heal them, of course!” He exclaimed, coming to stand at my side. “Whatever else would we be doing??”

Another murmur passed through the crowd, louder this time. Jeb’s eyes shot from me to Grier, then back again. I turned, bowing slightly in deference to the goblin.

“Beggin’ yer pardon again, Master Goblin.. Sir,” He mumbled, rubbing at the back of his neck, “But… there was rumor havin’ that our King planned to…” He dropped off, but the stiffening of his spine suggested to me a far less tasteful solution to the spread of the disease. Anger flashed through me at the understanding, though I hid it well. “We werena expectin’... ah… yerself…”

As he dropped off, obviously at a loss as to whom he was addressing, I bowed my head to Grier lightly again. “Allow me to present his Majesty, King Grier, of the goblin Kingdom.” I announced, loudly enough for the gathered to hear.

Jeb dropped to his knee, quick as a wink, which had the goblin starting slightly in astonishment. A gasp swept through the gathered now, and many followed the townsman’s lead and dropped to their knees as well. As was to be expected for a king’s presence. Murmurs and whispers were quickly filling the spaces between bodies, and only the choppy cough here and there broke the hiss.

Grier waved his hand, scoffing again. “Enough of that, there is no need.” He shot me a glance, as if irritated I had blown his cover. I dipped my head, but said nothing. Keeping my expression flat. He turned back to the townsman, who was slowly rising back to his feet nervously. “Sir Jeb, kindly assist my men in organizing, yes? We shall have a tent here for those able to walk to it.” He gestured to the one being set. “For those too unwell, they shall go with you or whomever you appoint to this temple you speak of.”

“Y-yes sir,... I mean, Yer Majesty… sir.” Jeb stammered, scrunching his hat between his hands and bowing excitedly. “We are most thankful, my Lords, most thankful!”

“Mister Jeb,” I put in, calling the man’s attention back to me, “Where are the city guards? Why have they left their posts?”

He shuffled anxiously. “... They wit’drew, my Lord. When the first of us fell sick…” He bowed his head, glancing out the corner of his eye warily. As if someone might be listening in. “The King recalled all of them… and closed the castle gates. To lessen the spread, they say.”

I stiffened, and my lips pursed into a tight line. Again, the rage rippled through me, but luckily Grier did not hesitate in light of this new information. He smiled widely, and Jeb twitched in surprise at the sight of his sharp teeth.

“Well, luckily we have no intention of doing the same,” He exclaimed, his voice light, “But I assure you, good sir, it will be addressed. After we heal the sick and ward everyone else for protection from the illness. But let us not delay a moment more in this, yes?”

The murmurs around us were quickly growing higher pitched, which I took as a positive. Excited and rushed, rather than low and angry. I glanced around the crowd as Jeb gestured a few people forward. Grier did the same, beckoning over some of the Masters to begin the organization. I lost track of their deliberations, looking beyond the roofs of the lower city to the high walls of the castle beyond. The feeling of dread returned to me, mixed with my anger, and despite the pristine white of the stone… the palace looked far darker than it should in the bright morning sunlight.

“Es’cuse me, Prince sir,” Came a small voice, and I turned, pulled abruptly from my ruminations. A small child stood before me, one thumb in their mouth, so covered in filth and grease I couldn’t quite tell if it was a boy or a girl. They were all skin and bones, and looked up at me with wide, bright green eyes. Our interaction was all but lost in the bustle as the humans and goblins finally began proper organization and preparation.

I dropped down to one knee before them, careful not to let my clean trousers touch the dirt road. But coming to their eye level. “May I help you, little one?” I asked softly.

Their eyes went wide with surprise, and they chewed on their thumb nervously. I guessed they must be about 6 or 7, though I supposed with malnutrition they could have been a fair bit older. It pained my heart to see them so, and I made a mental note to speak with whomever was in charge of the lower city now. Poverty, as evident before me was… unacceptable, to any degree.

“... Beggin’ yer pardon,” They mumbled around their thumb, glancing down at the road nervously, “But are ya Prince Niko… Nikostrant… Nikostrawsus… sir?”

I nodded curtly. “Yes, I am indeed.” I didn’t bother correcting their mispronunciation. My head tilted to the side slightly. “Is there something you need?”

“They be sayin’ yer the one who ended the war, sir…” They explained. “... They be sayin’ ya live with the goblins now, n’ we dun have ta fight them no mores, sir… is that true, sir?”

A few of the townspeople had slowed, and were gathering about us with quiet but curious stares. I nodded again, ignoring the eyes watching us.

“I suppose that is true. Though it was hardly-”

I started as the child launched themselves at me. Suddenly wrapping their grimy little arms as far around my neck as they would go. A loud wave of surprise rippled through the crowd, and I saw a hunched old woman rushing forward, looking panicked.

“Forgiveness, my Lord!” She cried, bowing repeatedly and reaching out as if to pry the child from my neck. “She’s but a babe still, she not be knowin’-”

I raised a hand, silencing her. Then used it to pat the little child’s back lightly. The crowd released a uniform breath of surprise and relief. A fresh murmur rippled through their ranks. The child leaned back after a moment, her eyes bright with awe, and bared spotty teeth at me in a delighted grin.

“Thank ye, my Prince.. Sir,” She told me, her voice soft and shy, “My pa’s home now, thanks to ya. I missed him much, and he be sayin’ yer why he’s back.”

A wave of something strange washed through me, and a quick glance around had me discovering the same mix of awe and gratefulness on all the gathered townspeople as the child held in volumes in her glittering eyes. The older women came forward a few steps, giving me a shy, polite smile. I adjusted my tongue in my mouth, turning back to the little girl. I reached out, tucking a strand of her messy hair behind one ear.

“You have nothing to thank me for, my Lady. It is your father who deserves the praise, for serving his Kingdom,” I assured her, “It was my duty and honor as your Prince to forge this Treaty for Peace.” I sensed hers weren’t the only ears listening intently, and increased my volume for the benefit of the other observers. “For too long have our two Kingdoms been at odds. But no more, I can promise you that. Now, we can work together. For the good of both humans and goblins alike.”

It felt overly formal, and very cliched. But a hearty murmur of excitement and approval spread through the gathered crowd like wildfire, and I even heard a few soft cheers. I patted the girl on the head once more, then slowly rose as she retreated back to the skirts of the older woman. The woman bowed to me deeply, as did the rest of the gathered people. I tucked my hands neatly in the small of my back, and turned as I heard Grier come up beside me. He grinned toothily up at me, and I felt my heart skip.

“I hope I’m not interrupting anything.” He teased lightly, glancing over at the little girl. She stared at him, eyes full of curiosity. My heart softened as I remembered another pair of very similar eyes, and I chanced a peek at the castle beyond again. “Apologies, my Lady, but if I might steal the Prince?” He wiggled his eyebrows at her. “I know he is quite charming company, but I am afraid we are due at the palace. I would be sorely pressed if I arrived without him on my arm.”

The small child giggled, then nodded shyly. I saw the old woman considering the goblin. Not quite warily, but neither with the open eagerness of her ward. Still, it was a good start for a people who had spent the last decade in fear of the goblins. When she felt my eyes on her, she bowed her head. I nodded, then turned back to the girl.

“Send my gratitude to your father for his service, if you would, my Lady.” I told her. “And my sincerest welcome home. May his days be long and full of blessings.”

Grier led the way back to the carriage, amid a completely different atmosphere than that we had arrived in. The people cheered and waved as we climbed back in, and the King offered a small returning wave before closing the door behind us. He settled back into his seat, still grinning like a fool. I considered him as I sat on to my own padded bench, carefully brushing the dirt off my hands and knees and straightening my vest.

“Oh come now, you must be pleased,” He pressed, “You are being welcomed home a hero! Your people are grateful to you for what you have done!” I glanced at him again, and his grin grew. “Surely that must set your heart at ease.”

I turned my attention to the window, hearing the muffled sounds of the people as we passed them by. Damjan’s mount clopped past my view as he moved back to the front of the caravan to the castle. I adjusted my tongue in my mouth. Feeling far too numb to fully register anything but the dark looming shape of a place I had once called home. I watched the walls climb up, up, up as we drew ever closer.

“The welcome will not be quite so universal.” I told him dryly.

I saw his brow scrunch, and he followed my eyes to the castle. A scowl skittered across his lips, and he shifted in his seat. I could sense his hesitation; the preliminary to something more he wished to say. I waited for it quietly, my stomach still flipping in my abdomen.

“Nikostratus…” He started, and I stiffened slightly in anticipation, “... Whatever might happen… I want you to know something…”

When he dropped off, I steeled my nerve and turned to look at him. His scarlet eyes currently held the delicate duality of ferocity and gentile, and I was instantly thrown by the strength of their warmth. So lost in their depth, I almost forgot to jump as his hand came out and rested upon mine on my knee. Almost.

“... I want you to know how much I like you, and how happy you make me. Just the way you are...” He breathed. “And I am here not for the sake of this Treaty, nor, most especially, for that weasel you call a King… I am here for you. For you, and for no one else.”

I let his words filter slowly through my mind, turning each over. But I kept my mask carefully in place. I saw him searching it carefully, and knew he found nothing from the disappointment that filled his. He took up my hand, almost desperately, and I saw something like a plea in those scarlet eyes of his. But I winced as the pads of our fingers touched, and I saw the plea replaced by a flash of pain.

“I appreciate the sentiment, Your-...” I stopped myself, seeing him flinch at my words. I chewed my tongue for half a moment before continuing. “... King Grier... But you are a good person. A good King. You would not stand by and allow innocent people to suffer when you have the ability to help them.” My confidence wavered, and I dropped my eyes. The only break in my defenses I allowed. Staring at his hand wrapped around mine. “... It is an honorable trait.”

He moved his thumb across my knuckles, and I somehow stiffened even more. “Yes, perhaps you are right… But I would not be here, as I am now. This,” He gestured to the carriage and fanfare and armed guards surrounding us, “Is not for the sake of innocent, suffering people. This,” He curled his fingers between mine, giving a gentle squeeze, “... This is for you.”

For my suffering, I added silently. My lips tightened, and I swallowed the hurtful response that came to sit on my tongue. This was not for me. He was here because he had deigned to invite himself, and by extension, was forcing me to face things I had left buried for a long time. And had buried for good reason. I carefully pulled my hand from his, and glanced back out the window. We were approaching the main castle gate, and I couldn’t think for the pounding of my heart in my ears. But when I looked back at Grier… he was confused. He was hurt… and I felt a stab of guilt for having caused that… as I’m sure he did for having unintentionally caused me such pain, even though I didn’t show it as he did. I knew it had not been his intent. I would have sighed, had I breath in my lungs to spare. I flicked my eyes to the rocking floor beneath our feet, opening my mouth. It stayed that way for a moment, then I closed it again.

I saw him shift, heard the muffled sounds of the shouts and announcements outside. A pause, then the heavy sound of the gate opening. I was running out of time, and my heart alternated between ramming against my chest at an alarming rate and skidding to a dead stop for several breaths. I gritted my teeth, chiseling the stone into place on my features. Preparing myself. But Grier… I glanced at him again. Grier was not prepared. Nothing could prepare him for this, I knew. Not without a lifetime of… what I had endured. I ran my hands down my legs slowly. I still needed to try.

My head shook, forcing it clear. “... Th-this…” I closed my eyes, steadying my focus. If I couldn’t speak to Grier, how could I hope to face the court? I reasoned. I tried again. “... This will be… very hard.” I told him, and realized my voice sounded nearly as weak as I felt. “And…” I dropped off again, then forced as deep a breath as my constricted chest would allow. “And I will need to be… someone else for it.” I almost winced, but I had chiseled myself into stone too well, and there was not a molecule of flesh left to do so. “... I need to… Grier…” I almost whispered his name, as though afraid of speaking it. “... to protect myself…” I glanced up at him, and could almost hear the click as the last of my composure snapped into place. “To protect you.”

My determination to do so drained the last of emotion and individuality from me. Hid me behind stone and hardened clay and a wall so high I couldn’t see the tops. I prayed that my words would be enough to soothe the goblin for whatever might come next. Somewhere deep down, in a spot I buried for when it was safe again, I worried. I worried that I might not be able to break that wall down when this was all over… If it ever would be over... But for now, it was necessary. And I straightened, looking away from the King as the carriage came to a halt. I couldn’t bear to try and read his expression. The door opened, and we stepped out into the main courtyard…

...

We were ushered down the main hall, then to the smaller audience chamber. My rage flared at this; as a visiting royal, Grier should be greeted in the main throne room. It was a barely concealed insult that my father would meet with him here. But then, I reasoned, perhaps he could excuse it to the staunch traditionalist Court, as it was not by his invitation that the goblin was here.

I stayed a pace behind the King in question as we were announced and led into the chamber. As was my place in the eyes of the human court, not only as secondborn, but also as… dare I even think it in this context, but as Grier’s betrothed. I kept my eyes straight in front of me, my head high and my shoulders squared as we entered. I did not look about, and registered the room from my peripherals. A few of the more prominent members of Court lined the walls, with the center aisle clear straight to the small throne at the end of the room. Valerianus stood to one side, and Gareth, to my dismay, to the other (though further back out of respect for my brother). I noticed my sister amid the pillars towards the back, and saw her face light up at the sight of me. I was grateful for once that Gareth caught her shoulder as she moved to pass him, keeping her in place. Despite his reasoning for doing so and the disdain I could almost feel wafting off him in waves. Despite my own contempt to have to see him once more. As if my return was not difficult enough without his disapproving eyes. Yet I was grateful, if only for a breath. I was not sure I could manage my sister at that moment, with my nerves taut and close to breaking. I could not allow myself to crumble, for any reason. And now my breath hitched at the site I had long dreaded. Sitting there, his back stiff, a scowl barely hidden in his stoney mask.

My father was not a small man. Not by any means. He was at least my height, though I had always thought him taller, with equally broad shoulders. My brother had inherited his square jaw, blonde hair, and fair skin, though my father’s complexion was more worn with his nearing 70 years. The edges were cracked and frayed, and his once proud cheeks had become shallow and gaunt. I decided he looked like parchment then, and about as lifeless, staring at us with hazel brown eyes (the mirror of my own) concealing the contempt I knew he must feel. His hand was forced here; he had not invited Grier to the palace, nor asked his aid. But he could neither deny it, now that it had been given. A lifetime of experience told me he was furious, though an outsider looking at him might only see another stone statue. 

I wondered what the room must look like to the goblin King. An audience hall of statues, staring at him. The one bright, and colorful life amid a garden of stone. I would imagine it was unnerving, knowing what I did of the goblin court and general lifestyle. But to his credit, Grier didn’t flinch. Despite his diminutive height, he strode proudly into the room, head high, sharp featured face fierce. His head turned as he took in the room, as a predator surveys the herd, and one slender brow cocked. I saw a few skilled nobles twitch as his scarlet eyes ran over them. Damjan and a few more armed guards stood behind us, and the tension in the room was palpable. Grier stopped before the throne, considering my father with an unabashed appraisal.

I saw my father’s eyes flick up and down my companion’s attire, saw the slightest twitch of disapproval at the corner of his mouth. I felt a familiar anger rolling about in my gut, but carefully tempered it. Neither spoke for a long moment, nor did anyone else. It was not our place. There were two Kings to be reckoned with here, and no one would dare step out of line. The goblin guard had been well briefed in the need for their silence prior to our arrival, and they too held still under scrutiny. My spine itched, but I stood still, keeping my gaze trained forward at some distant place.

“Welcome to my home, King Goblin.” Came the greeting from my father finally, breaking the silence. The anger in my gut burned hotter at his refusal to use Grier’s name. I had no doubt he hadn’t even bothered to remember it, if he had ever cared to hear it. His voice was flat, and thin. He did not speak loudly, for he was King. If he was speaking, all others should be silent. There was no doubt in any listeners mind of that, just from his enunciation of that single line. 

Grier dipped his head politely, and I saw his lips twitch. “I thank you for your hospitality, King Human.”

I would have laughed under different circumstances, as the Court members all visibly flinched at the insulting address. Even though it was no more than a mirror of their own King’s. My father seemed unmoved, though he brought up one hand slightly, resting the fingers by his chin. Valerianus’ eyes flicked from him to Grier, and I saw the gears moving slowly behind them. I wondered briefly what kind of welcome he had found upon his return from requesting our aid. I couldn’t imagine it had been very pleasant. My father flicked his fingers at him, answering the unspoken request.

“Your Grace,” He stepped forward, bowing slightly to Grier, “May I present, His Majesty, King Tiburtius, of Geriveria.” Grier inclined his head, and I knew the introduction of my father’s name was not lost on him. I could almost picture the twitch of amusement at the corner of his lips, though with my gaze fixed ahead I couldn’t quite make out the majority of his face. “And, Your Majesty,” The whole court drew in a sharp breath as Valerianus turned, bowing to my father, “Might I present to you, King Grier, of the Goblin Kingdom.”

Oh, my father would not be happy. I found I was surprised to see my brother act so boldly. Introducing both Kings with equal respect and grace. He had handled it nearly flawlessly, from my perspective, and I was pleased that now my father would not have the excuse to forget Grier’s name in any future address. It was a bold statement, but also a great sign of respect for the goblin King from the Crown Prince.

Again, my father was the first to break the silence. “Prince Valerianus tells me you have come to lend your… magic to our people.” He spat the word with as much disdain as was allotted for by our paltry excuse for emotions.

Grier inclined his head again. “Indeed. I received word of the terrible sickness plaguing the citizens of our sister kingdom,” He intoned, his voice, in contrast to my father’s, illustrious and loud, “And of course could not sit idly by.” His head cocked to the side. “I do hope I have not overstepped our alliance?”

The Court shifted restlessly, though almost imperceptibly. My father ran his finger across his dry lips. “... Of course, your aid is always welcome. We are most grateful.” The words were forced by politeness and honor from Grier’s bold and direct question, but I could sense his rage with having to have spoken them at all.

“I am glad to hear. I might have been led to think otherwise, considering the manner in which we were greeted.” Grier continued, his point barely concealed. By court standards, he had brusquely called out my father for his lack of fanfare and preparation.

“My greatest apologies,” My father returned without pause, no stranger to such plays, though his eyes narrowed by a barely perceptible hair, “We were given very little advance notice of your intent.”

“Ah, yes.” The goblin replied, nodding in bemusement. “But of course. I suppose you would request at least a week’s notice prior to hosting a royal visit.” His brow cocked. “I’m sure your people would have kindly waited to die until the day was more suitable for you.”

There was a sharp intake of breath that hissed through the room, and the tension grew. I heard the rustling of armor as the goblins shifted behind us in response. I felt a chill run down my spine as my father’s eyes turned to me, his gaze colder than ice.

“Perhaps it was foolish of me to expect Nikostratus to inform you of proper human etiquette. I will forgive you such small slights of course.” He replied, as if graciously ignoring the insults Grier casually levied at him was quite magnanimous of him. “After all, based upon the current state of him, I can see he has forgotten himself. Hardly a worthy representative of our people.” I tried not to twitch beneath his scrutiny, and did not move from my gaze locked straight ahead. My father’s eyes flicked to my brother. “Though it seems we are in short supply of that recently.”

It was not lost on me that he neglected to use my title. I saw the uncomfortable shift of the Court, the eyes flicking about almost nervously. This was, after all, as public a display of humiliation as one could get. I remained steadfast, unwavering. I had not been addressed, and so could not speak out.

“On the contrary, good King.” Mused Grier, his returning tone icy. “It is only by the nature of your sons that I am here at all.” His scarlet eyes considered my father harshly, and without pretense. “Should it not be for them, and Prince Nikostratus specifically, I would have been more than happy to raze your paltry kingdom to the ground.”

The equivalent of an uproar overtook the room, the members of court shifting more visibly. And even a few gasps and hushed whispers spreading through their ranks. My father stood, moving to try and tower over Grier. I knew this tactic. I had faced it many times. If his words failed him, he would try to intimidate by his sheer size alone. And then he would use his considerable courtly experience to completely destroy his opponent’s reputation and authority... By any means. I saw the goblin’s eyes harden, flashing with contempt. It broke everything; every training, every etiquette and protocol I had ever had forcibly ingrained into me. But I knew what came next, and I would not allow it to befall the goblin.

I stepped forward. Lining myself up with Grier. Shoulder to shoulder. An absolute breach in decorum and honor. I was a Prince, and he a King. It was the greatest disrespect, but less to Grier, and more to my father. As it forced him to address not only the goblin, but myself. For we now stood level to each other. He would have to reprimand me. He would have to acknowledge me, as he had all but refused to do since we had entered. I saw my father’s eyes flash. And he turned his focus on me. I prepared myself for the onslaught I knew was coming.

“Stand down, Prince Nikostratus,” He told me, his voice cold, spitting out the title as if it were venom on his tongue, “And remember your place.”

As he had addressed me, I could turn my head to him. Meeting his gaze. Then I bowed slightly. “Forgive me, Your Majesty,” I intoned, my voice flat. But I did not step back.

“I shall not.” He all but growled. “You are-”

“My betrothed.” Grier interrupted, and again, a gasp ripped through the hall. I saw Gareth make a quick exit with Morgana out of the corner of my eye, disgust evident on his features. He had to practically drag her out. “And as such, stands my equal. A position above yours, I would think. Considering the size of my Kingdom compared to yours.” Grier continued without pause. That rocked my father back, and his unbalanced attention switched back to the goblin. “Would you levy such an insult against me as to deny my partner, and your own son, the respect and authority he is entitled to?”

His eyes flashed, but was met with matching tenacity in the goblin King’s eyes. He lost himself for a moment, and I saw his mask slip. “You would-”

“I am a man and a King of my word,” He interrupted again, and I knew he was not about to let go of the advantage he now held, “I have made a Treaty, through the union of our two houses. A contract that benefits both our Kingdoms, in no small part due to Prince Nikostratus tireless efforts to make and keep the peace.” He crossed his arms over his chest. “Perhaps, Your Majesty, you have forgotten your own place.”

There was silence then, that cut into my eardrums like fire. I didn’t move, standing frozen in place at Grier’s side. My father’s mouth closed tight, and I saw him working to sort out the proper answer. It took him too long though, and I could see the weight of time dragging on him. I knew there was no right answer. Not one that he would ever allow himself to speak at least. But I also knew Grier was right. By all intents and purposes, my father had insulted him, and dishonored him. The goblin would be well within his rights to take his army and raze the human kingdom to the ground. No human with half a brain would be able to argue against his justification. Beyond that, I was certain my father was already well aware he was at a complete disadvantage should he decide to affirm the insult, for not only was the goblin army larger and stronger than our forces, but they were currently well entrenched into the city. And the castle. He could not afford to allow the insult to stand, and Grier had forced him to address it. As no human would ever have dared. Finally, he straightened, a cold storm settling across his stone-faced features.

Slowly, he tucked his hands behind his back. And I didn’t like the glint in his eyes. “Indubitably, King Grier. Allow me to offer a balm to this perceived slight.” He gestured one of the more prominent members of the court forward, who bowed repeatedly and anxiously. “Lord Tipp shall give you a proper tour of the castle, as our esteemed guest.” I stiffened, sensing his hand before he had even played it. His gaze flicked to me, still icy cold. “Since Prince Nikostratus is your equal, as you say, and already familiar with the castle, I am certain he shall be acceptable as a representative in your stead.”

Grier paused, considering this. To his credit, he did not flinch, but I knew my father had now forced his own hand. The goblin’s gaze flicked to me, and I could just see it out the corner of my eye. He would have to abandon me, or else retract his previous statement. Anything else would now be perceived as an insult from him. As my father’s attention turned back to the goblin, I allowed my eyes to flick to Grier at their corners. He watched me for a delayed moment, then gave a nod.

“Of course, King Tiburtius.” He returned, voice back to its previous airy lightness. “I would be pleased to see more of your home. And Prince Nikostratus will be more than able to handle our affairs as I do.” His eyebrow twitched up, and he glanced back at me. “I do hope he won’t mind indulging me so. Though I was certain he would wish to give the tour personally, as he is intimately familiar with the castle himself.”

I dipped my head politely. It was a paltry excuse, but absolutely viable, should I choose to take it. I realized he was asking me what I wanted, as best he could given the circumstances. Asking if I wanted him to stay, or if he should leave. It would not be a perfect cover, not an ideal excuse. It wouldn’t leave the best impression of us. But it was an option, and my heart skittered. Debating taking it. Feeling weak at the knees at the thought of being left on my own...

“I would not deny you your curiosity, Your Majesty,” I told him, slowly straightening and sealing my fate, “I am certain Lord Tipp will be an adequate guide. If it pleases you.”

“Good.” My father intoned before Grier could speak further. “Then it is settled.” He turned back to the court at large. “Lord Tipp will be able to show you the extent of our hospitality, which we have woefully neglected thus far. While I will speak with my sons. Alone.”

The court quickly and efficiently cleared behind Grier and his new host. I saw him shoot me a glance over his shoulder as my father turned and made his way back to his seat. I could give him nothing to soothe his conscience, but watched quietly as he and his small contingent of guards left. The sound of the door scraping shut sounded almost as sickening to my ears as a spine snapping. I turned slowly back to the throne as my father settled in it.

There was a long moment of silence that threatened to crush my nerve, but I held it resolutely in my breast alongside my pounding heart. Praying it was strong enough to endure whatever I was about to face.

“How long has it been, Nikostratus?” Came the flat, cold tones of my father finally. “A week? Two? Less than a month, I am certain.”

“Just over two weeks, Your Majesty.” I replied hollowly.

“And yet you stand before me, practically a savage.” He shook his head, running his hand across his chin. “Mannerless. Mud on your trousers and boots. I believe your top button of your shirt is even undone. Did you walk here?” He raised a hand, not allowing me a breath to answer. “And then you would disrespect me, in my own court? Seek to embarrass me in front of that… thing.”

I tightened my jaw, resisting the urge to lash out at him. “I did as you asked, Your Majesty. I brokered a peace between our Kingdoms. A fair and-”

“You have brokered a sham!” He snapped, though his cold voice barely raised at all. “This Treaty you sent? I have never seen anything so absolutely ridiculous in my life.” He scoffed. “A marriage?? Between a Prince and a King?? You must be joking.”

“Your Majesty, in goblin culture-”

“I do not care about goblin culture, you insolent cur.” He cut me off again, standing, glaring down at me, squaring his shoulders and all but spitting as he spoke. I instantly bowed my head, recoiling a step. “How dare you use the authority I granted you to follow your own lecherous pursuits.”

My gut roiled at his words, and I almost blanched. Instead, I secured my façade into harder shape, and cast my eyes to the ground. I could hear his disgust as plain as if he had spelled it out for me, and clenched my hands tightly behind my back to keep them from quivering.

“Your Majesty, the Treaty that Prince Nikostratus-” Valerianus began, and I was a little surprised at his intrusion.

“And you!” Our father spun on him, and he too recoiled. “I would expect this of your treacherous brother, but you? Going behind my back. Directly disobeying my orders. Inviting those wretched beasts into our Kingdom.” He scoffed, shaking his head. “The Gods have punished me with such disobedient and disgraceful sons.”

He settled back into his chair. We stayed with our heads bowed, staring at the ground. As we had many times before. My throat burned, and I blinked fervently. Our father let out a soft breath, not quite a sigh, rubbing at his chin with one hand. I almost winced again at the sound, as if he had moved to slap me.

“You, Nikostratus, will return with that… creature. As your last service to me, you will have him withdraw his fellows from our Kingdom. You hopefully have at least some honor left to complete that simple task.” His eyes narrowed slightly. “And then I will never hear from you again.”

“The Treaty-”

“I will arm no men against him, for now, so long as he keeps his filth from my borders. And you will count that as a blessing.” He cut in. “But you will not ask for my aid. Nor anything else from me.” He ran his hand over his chin again. “Perhaps the one good to have come of this was saving the arrangement of Morgana’s betrothal to that creature. I have begun negotiations with King Namier of Valthaven, whose army is twice the size of ours, in exchange for her hand.”

My blood ran cold, rushing like ice through my veins. “King Namier is nearly 40. He already-”

“ENOUGH!” I was rocked back by the volume and force of his voice. It sent me spinning back into my childhood, and I resisted the urge to wince, my resolve crumbling. “The sole reason I don’t have your head on a pike and your entrails in my dungeon right now is because that ludicrous monster you have disgracefully attached yourself to has somehow amassed a force powerful enough to subdue our armed forces. And then Valerianus was fool enough to allow them into our city. But make no mistake,” He stood again, stepping down to tower over me, “You are dead to me, Nikostratus.” I felt a numbness spread through me at his words, and my jaw clenched. “You have already dishonored and disgraced me, now leave with what little dignity you have left. And take that filth with you. Immediately!”

“Father, the people of the lower city-”

“The people be damned!” He snapped, spinning back on my brother, who instantly bowed his head again in the face of his quiet, seething rage. “I would see every one of them dead before I allow such abhorrent, lecherous beasts to remain in my kingdom. Now, get out of my sight! Both of you!”

Something snapped in me, as the numbness started to spread through my chest. Something I could not name. Some force or power that curled around me and flamed the hot rage in my gut... And I did not move. I remained rooted in place, instead raising my head and gritting my teeth. Valerianus has started to shift as if to leave, his brow slightly furrowed. I squared my shoulders and spread my stance, and my brother paused at the sight of me. After a moment, our father seemed to realize neither of us had exited, and turned back on us, his brow becoming like thunder behind his mask.

“Leave.” He commanded. 

I straightened my back. “I will not.”

His eyes shot wide, breaking the fraying edges of his composure. “You have no authority-”

“As you have disowned me as your son,” I cut him off abruptly, my voice firm, “Then I stand before you, not as a Prince of your human court, but as future King of the goblin. And voice of their will.”

“You-”

“And as such,” I continued, ignoring him, “I am here to inform you that we will not be withdrawing from the Kingdom until every last citizen is treated or warded from this plague.” My voice was growing in volume with each word, each one more confident than the last. “Furthermore, should you attempt to act against any the terms of the Treaty, including refusal to admit the goblin kind into this Kingdom, we would be well within our rights to forcibly remove you from the throne and take it for ourselves.”

His mouth flapped uselessly, and I saw red growing in the apples of his pale cheeks. “... How… How dare-”

“The way I see it, Your Majesty, you have two choices,” I interrupted him again, my voice nearly quivering with my anger, but no less commanding, “You can accept this fact with some semblance of grace and dignity intact. Or,” I silenced his sputtering at my words again firmly, “You can attempt to publicly resist our efforts, and find instead the full might and force of the goblins dragging you kicking and screaming from your throne.”

I waited a breath, watching his eyes all but bulge from his skull. I could see Valerianus looking only slightly less perturbed than our father at the corners of my vision. Though his mask was much more securely fastened into place. But I ignored him other than this observation, focusing my fury on the man standing before me. As the King tried and failed to find a response, his face becoming more red by the minute, I glared down my nose at him. My shoulders squared, my confidence unrelenting.

When no reply seemed forthcoming, I broke the stony features of my face to cock one eyebrow up in a way that would have made Grier quite proud. “I will assume you choose the first option.” I mused. “But please do let me know if you decide on the latter. I would very much like to see it.”

With that, and a final farewell, I spun on heel with practiced military grace, and marched out of the room.

I walked with an almost giddy, light step. My breath shallow and huffy with adrenaline. I could hardly believe I had just done that. It felt like the memory of someone else, and my pulse raced with the excitement still coursing through me. But… by the gods did it feel good. I was out onto the raised walkway before the main courtyard when the quick click of boots alerted me to my pursuer. I turned, not sure who I was expecting to be there. And found it certainly wasn’t anyone I would have guessed.

“Prince Nikostratus,” My brother breathed, slowing before me, “A word, if you would be so kind.”

I quickly and carefully fixed my mask back into place, turning to face him fully. My heart sputtered in my chest, and I resisted the urge to swallow the lump that suddenly leapt into my throat. Had I forgotten something? Had I made some miscalculation? Perhaps this was a ploy, and attempt to delay me before I could inform the goblins of what had just happened. To distract me while the guard worked to mobilize. I wondered briefly if my father had sent him. My mind raced with the possibilities.

“You see what he is.” I blurted before I could stop myself. “... You see what he’s become.”

My brother hesitated, considering me for a moment, and the brusque nature of my words. Then, slowly, he nodded. “... Yes… I do.”

I straightened, composing myself again. “Then you understand why what I did was necessary, Prince Valerianus.”

Another pause, followed by another small, slow nod. “That is why I am here, Your Highness.” He hesitated again, then straightened his own spine and squared his shoulders properly. “I wanted to thank you.”

I stared at him, a little dumbfounded. I was grateful momentarily for the lifetime of perfecting the mask, so that even in the face of this surprise, it held. My silence, of course, was evidence enough to it. And he gestured towards the walkway, taking a step forward. Uncertain what else to do, I fell into step beside him, and we slowly walked the parapet.

“This is just one in a long line of transgressions I have unfortunately been party to.” He told me softly, and I saw him glance briefly to the side. “I cannot say much more, as you know as well as I that the castle has eyes and ears of its own. But…” He paused, dropping off. “You have done our people yet another selfless act, Prince Nikostratus. Even though you would have been completely justified in taking any other course of action.”

“I can do no less, Your Highness,” I replied, my tone back to the formal emotionless drone, “I may no longer be a Prince of this Kingdom in the eyes of its King, but they are still my people.” My voice became hard. “I will not allow them to suffer for his stubbornness and pride.”

“Another great service,” He replied, “For which I would like to offer you one in return.”

He stopped, turning to face me. I did the same, surprised but hiding it well. My brother looked me up and down, and I searched the edges of his mask with my trained perception. And yet I still couldn’t quite read what he intended.

“You have sacrificed everything,” He continued, his voice still soft, “Your home. Your future. Your…” I saw him hesitate, blinking slowly. I tried to wrestle with his meaning, but found myself wholly unable to discern it. “... I would like to correct this wrong. It was not your burden to take. We can find another path to peace with the goblins, Prince Nikostratus.”

It dawned on me slowly, and I shook my head. “You would have Morgana-” I started, my voice tight.

“If you think I am even capable of such a thought, then you do not know me at all.” He cut me off curtly. Then he paused. “... I am not our father, Nikostratus... And I have every wish to avoid that fate for myself.” He glanced down, belying his mask for a breath, then met my gaze firmly. “... I will find us another path to peace. You need not sacrifice yourself. I will do everything in my power to free you from your bonds. It is not too late. There has been no… ceremony.”

I looked at him, astonished. We stood in silence for a long moment, staring at each other… He didn’t know... He thought I was… I swallowed hard, realizing I would have to say more than I had ever been comfortable saying. A feat hard enough with someone familiar with the concept. Nearly impossible with one for whom the concept likely didn’t even exist. I tried to pick the right words. To come up with a response that would be as delicate as possible to his sensibilities. I clenched my hands into fists to keep them from shaking.

“I have given my word, Prince Valerianus.” I told him softly, but firmly. “I will not break it.” I started to open my mouth to say more, then slowly closed it. Hesitating. My heart racing in my breast. “... I am an adult. And have entered into this contract by my own free will, for the good of our Kingdom.” I stopped, hesitating again.

He considered me for a moment. Trying as I had to listen to the unspoken words between us. “Would it be… presumptuous of me to assume that perhaps this is… erm…” He shuffled, glancing down at our feet, a slight pink tinge rising to his cheeks. “... Not quite the same… ah... sacrifice I had initially thought, Your Highness?”

I felt my face flush, and quickly cleared my throat. Staring down at our feet as well. I stammered for a second, then managed to compose myself once more. “I-I...It would be…” I heaved a sigh, shaking my head slightly, “It would be a greater... sacrifice, on my part… t-to return things to how they were…”

I heard him swallow loudly. “... I see.”

I hesitated, then nodded resolutely. “I have found in this… Treaty… a freedom, Your Highness.” I slowly raised my gaze to him. “One I had never expected to find before, nor had ever hoped to pursue...” I swallowed nervously, and couldn’t resist a tiny shuffle of my feet. “The sacrifice, for me, is no different than any other arranged marriage.”

Valerianus studied my face again, and I hoped my flush wasn’t far too evident. But he nodded slowly. Then bowed his head. “Then I will honor your word as well, Prince Nikostratus.”

I bowed in return, and as we both straightened, I felt a strange weight lift from my shoulders. Only to be replaced by another.

“I would beg permission to ask another boon, Your Highness,” I told him as we stood face to face once more, “If you would grant it in light of my services.”

“Ask, Prince Nikostratus,” He replied, “And I will grant it if it is in my power.”

“... Let me take Morgana with me.” My brother froze at that, and I saw him glance quickly out the corners of his eyes again. I quickly rushed on. “You heard him. You know what he is planning for her…. She’s not safe here.”

Valerianus was quiet for a long moment, but he had been unable to mask the flash of pain at my words. We had many differences, my brother and I. But Morgana was not one of them. I knew he cared for her, in his own way. Their connection was not as powerful as mine and hers, yet his earlier words had given me hope that perhaps he might just wish for her the same future I did. Or at least one not so… repulsive. One with a chance of happiness.

I waited with my stomach flipping in knots. Waited with my breath caught in my throat and all my hopes on the line. I couldn’t even bear to think what would happen if he refused my request. And what lengths I would go to in order to assure he didn’t…

Finally, he nodded, slowly. “You are right… The Princess is not safe here. Not while our father…” He stopped, dropping off. Then nodded again. “It would be best if she was kept away from here. For a time, at least.”

I nearly collapsed with relief. With Valerianus’ aid, it could possibly be days until anyone of import noticed the Princess was missing. With his authority, all but the highest levels of court would be forced to look the other way. And even then, only our father had power above him. He gestured for us to continue our walk, and I fell into step beside him once more.

“You must let us ward you, Your Highness,” I told him as we walked, the tops of the pillars of the courtyard coming into view as we rounded the corner and came to the top of the stairs, “For the sake of our Kingdom’s future, I would beg you to consider you own safety.”

Valerianus nodded. “I will trust your judgement, on the matter, Prince Nikostratus.” He replied. “You have shown it to be quite sound.”

I could see Grier in the courtyard below, alone, and as soon as my eyes fell on him, my heart skipped several beats. I felt a warmth spreading through my chest, a longing unlike anything I had ever known before, and it left me in a haze of confusion with its unfamiliarity. I wanted nothing more to do with this palace I used to call home; I had never understood that word until now… And it wasn’t until I had returned that I realized it never had been a home to me. After everything that I had just endured, I wanted only to go down to the goblin King and leave. Preferably to never see this place again, and sooner rather than later. I had no strength for anything else.

“... Forgive me, Prince Nikostratus,” I nearly jumped at Valerianus’ voice, having momentarily forgotten that he was there, “... I thought at first it was a very elaborate ploy from the goblins. A spell, perhaps. Or a great strength of will on your part, for the sake of Morgana and our people.” I turned to face him properly, carefully squaring my shoulders with my back straight. “But I see now it’s more than that. You honestly... care for him. Don’t you?”

I faltered at his words, and blinked stupidly for a moment. Based upon the twitch at the corners of his lips, I assumed my mask had slipped momentarily. I quickly corrected the slight, leveling myself back into stone.

“My interest is wholly irrelevant for this contract. The arrangement of this marriage is for the sake of our Kingdom and people, Prince Valerianus,” I told him stiffly, careful to keep my voice flat, “For a much needed peace. I was beholden by my duty to our Kingdom to form this alliance, and we have already seen the benefits of the Treaty.”

“Of course, I do not doubt that in the least.” He agreed calmly, and took one elegant step forward to peer down at the courtyard as I had. “How fortunate then, Your Highness, that you have already grown quite fond of the man who will be your husband.” If I hadn’t known any better, I would have thought his tone was teasing. My lips worked uselessly at the air for a moment, and the corners of his twitched again as my face flushed once more. “... I am happy for you.” He turned back to me. “Truly, brother, I am. He seems to be a good man. And an honorable King. I would be fortunate indeed to someday find myself to be half the King he is.”

It was only the lifetime of discipline that kept the shock from registering on my face. I didn’t answer him, uncertain how to. I couldn’t remember the last time he had spoken to me so candidly, if he ever had. By the time I was old enough to remember our interactions, Valerianus was already a sullen teenager. Weighted with the responsibility of the crown. Hardly the mixture for a warm and affectionate older brother, especially in our family. Our eyes met for a long, quiet moment. And whatever tension lingered between us dissipated. I had no words to give him; nothing seemed appropriate in that moment. But they were unneeded. I felt my lips purse, and gave him a small nod. Which he returned, hands still clasped formally behind his back.

“I shall have the maid gather some things for the Princess quickly and bring them to your carriage, Prince Nikostratus.” He told me, then gave a shallow bow before spinning on heel to march off. “I shall task you with the nigh impossible feat of finding her.”

I nearly groaned, instead nodding to his retreating figure. Morgana could be any number of places by now. I knew the most likely, but that would take time. And time might not be something we had much of, if our father caught wind of our plans. Grier would help me, I declared to myself silently. And his men. We would have to work quickly, but for the first time in a long time, I had hope that things would turn out alright.

I spun back to descend the stairs to the courtyard, and was at the second ledge when a familiar sound came to my ears. It flooded my body with relief as I recognized my sister’s voice. But her words had me freezing in place.

“Excuse me…umm, sir goblin.”

A momentary pause, followed by a polite if hesitant; “Yes, My Lady?”

“I beg your pardon, but you are the King, yes?”

My heart skipped like a smooth stone across still waters. I eased down the last few steps, walking lightly to stand at the corner. Peering around it. Grier stood with his back to me, and Morgana before him with her hands on her hips. She wasn’t much shorter than him, but still had to tilt her chin up to meet his gaze. I started to round the corner, eager to tell both of them the good news and pleased they were in the same place. But curiosity stilled my feet, something about the determination set into her youthful face, and I lingered momentarily. Not quite hidden… that wouldn’t be very Princely. But they would have to look particularly hard to make me out behind the marble pillars...

“That I am.” I could hear the tiny smile in Grier’s voice. “... Can I be of service?”

“I demand an audience then, Your Majesty.” I almost groaned at her abruptness, and studied her little face for a moment. Intelligent and fierce…. I couldn’t deny it warmed my heart.

Grier hesitated again, but then offered her a small bow. “But of course, Princess. I am at your service… Shall we sit?”

...

UPDATE: Part Ten HERE