#the process of tearing off pieces with my bare hands and shoveling them into my mouth like a starved animal is definitely part of the appeal

[drakonovisny]

HOLY FUCK I CAN'T BELIEVE I HAVE LIVED ALMOST 24 YEARS OF MY LIFE WITHOUT JACKFRUIT

[spookysmujer]

Piensa En Mi, O. Diaz

Summary: The relationship with you and Oscars suddenly ends after he gets locked up. Now it’s 4 years later..

warnings: HELLA angst, heartbreak 

word count: 1.9K

a/n: I had an itch to write today, thank you for requesting babes! Sorry it took this long to get done. I hope everyone is doing okay these days. PSA: Stop the hate against Asians! Speak up for our brothers and sisters, please. I love you all! Please consider: following, heart/comment/reblog my content! Thank you <)

Requested by @boujee-bitches!

(gif belongs to @merakiaes)

You can remember the day you realized just how much you were in love with Oscar Diaz. It was a few months into dating, he had been in and out of town on Santo business, and yet still was able to check in with you. He even sent you doordash multiple times. And in that one moment, as the doordash driver stood at your door, carrying a bag of your favorite pastrami sub, you truly felt your heart bleed for Oscar. The feelings entirely mutual with him. You can remember that exact moment you felt it, just as you remember the moment your heart had been ripped away. 

The consequence of having such a pristine memory is the ability to remember not only the good days but the hurtful ones as well. Now, after years of being with Oscar, he’s gone. Things had been going so well with the Santos and moving up in the ranks for him. Then in a matter of seconds, all that changed. The moment those handcuffs linked his wrists together behind his back as he was  whisked away in the back of the patrol car was the day everything changed.

Change. 

They always say that change is a good thing. But whoever they are, they were wrong. Change is malicious, it’s life-consuming and does nothing but harm. In the beginning you were confident everything would be okay. Nothing could break this man, he has been through the highest highs and the lowest lows. He has endured things as a young child that no child should. Even when the judge has sentenced him to 8 years, the look he gave you said: It’ll be okay, mamas.

For the first few months, things were good. The money he would send to you, you’d put on his books regardless of his wishes for you not to do so. The phone calls that didn’t last nearly as long as you wanted it to. And the letters, even if you talked on the phone and visited him often, Oscar still wrote you letters, and he always drew something for you. 

But it began to get difficult. When school started up in the fall, your full-time job and now taking care of his younger brother, you started to miss calls, needed to reschedule visits. And when you would answer, Oscar would give you the cold shoulder. He realized that you were beating yourself up for trying to juggle everything. He hated himself for making you so stressed just to make it to him. So on a surprise call that you weren’t expecting, he broke it to you that dating while he is incarcerated is foolish of you. It’s a waste of your time. Please take care of yourself and Cesar, we’ll see where we are when I’m out. But for now, it’ll be just me.

That day replays in your mind. No more calls, rejected visits, ghost letters. It felt like he died, though you would have been notified of it if that was the case. But that was 4 years ago, everything had changed and according to Cesar, it’s about to change again.

“I’m sorry, what did you say?” You ask, after holding your breath. Spooky gets out tomorrow. 

Cesar shovels the rest of his cereal in his mouth and gulps down the remaining milk, rushing around the kitchen and gathering his school things, “Oscar. He gets out tomorrow. His sentence reduced to half the time, remember the hearing they had last week?”

Whenever Cesar would talk about his older brother, you would tune it out. Oscar breaking up with you over the phone without a thorough reason, then dropping you as a person all together really broke you beyond repair. But you had no choice but dust off your shoulders and keep going. 

You hum and nod, packing your lunch.Without saying anything else, you head back to your room to get your things ready for work. As you pass by the room that Cesar had taken residency in, you notice the packed bags. “Cesar!” 

But by the time you make it back to the kitchen, he has already left out the door. Was he about to leave? Did he want out now that Oscar will be out? Though the idea was to care for Cesar while his brother was locked up, to know he is already ready to up and leave, hurts you. But you shake it off, Oscar is coming home, shit. 

Your day goes by painstakingly slow. All you could think about is how it would go when you’d see him again, how will you feel? What about him, what will he feel?

“Y/N, did you hear me?” Cesars voice sounds from across the table, the two of you enjoying some take-out. The day has gone from slower than a sloth to as quick as sonic the hedgehog.

He stares at you, waiting for you to respond. “Now that Oscar is getting out, it’s time for you to head on back home. Yeah, I heard you. Just sucks is all, I feel like my daily routine will be all messed up.” You joke to which he grins at. 

The next day comes by in a blink of an eye. Here you are leaning against your car that is parked in front of Oscars house. You can’t bring yourself to walk up those stairs and face him. But he hasn’t exited the house yet, you wonder if he even will. After Cesar gets the last bag is when you hear the front door. He makes his way towards you, your breath getting stuck in your airways. 

Cesar hugs you and thanks you again, you squeeze him and ask that he doesn’t be a stranger. Then there stood, you and Oscar. He stares at you for a long moment, studying you. It’s been nearly 4 years since he’s seen you. You are the same with little differences here and there, “You finally pierced your nose.” He points out. 

You purse your lips and nod, scoffing and looking him in the eyes, “Almost 1,300 days of not talking to me and seeing me…. And my nose ring is the first thing you say to me?” 

It wasn’t the plan to argue, you wanted to ask him to be kind to Cesar and take care of him then be on your merry way. But being in his physical presence now, it’s made your blood boil. How could he stand there like nothing had happened between you? The history you two have was an epic love and heartbreak but by the look on his face, it’s as if you are a stranger in passing. 

He licks his bottom lip and digs his hands into his shorts pockets, “What you want me to say? I said all I needed to that day on the phone.”

Your arms uncross from over your chest and your mouth falls slightly open. But before you can let out the rage that’s been building up continuously over the years, “I miss you, querida.” He watches your face contort to confusion then back to anger. He nearly smiles to see that you are still the hot head you’ve always been.

The words weren’t coming out as you wanted them to. All you could do was stomp past him to leave but he grabs your upper arm to stop you. You look down to where his hand wraps around your arm then up to his eyes, the look you give him is loud enough for him to let go.

“Can you just listen to me? You think I wanted to break things off? That it didn’t hurt me just as much as it hurt you?” Oscar begins, standing directly in front of you and slightly craning his head down. “I fucking hated that I did that to you, mami. The last thing I want in this world is not being with you, to cause you pain and to have done that when I was locked up? I hated it. Every single day. But I needed to do it because all I was doing was holding you back. I couldn’t bare knowing that I was making your life hard.”

An eruption of laughter sounds from you, you hold your stomach and one hand clamped over your mouth, hunching over from how hilarious you find his last sentence. Though anyone else hearing it wouldn’t really laugh, seeing as it wasn’t a funny statement. “I’m sorry, I don’t mean to laugh. But do you hear yourself? You thought breaking up would be better. I don’t know if there was ever a time during our relationship prior that I made you feel I couldn’t handle something like you being locked up, I am terribly sorry if I had but I thought I proved to you that I was more than in love with you, I was hopelessly devoted to you, I was willing to endure it all, every call or visit. I was ready to work hard to make sure you could make tienda… but what did I do or what did I say to make you think otherwise?”

Oscar feels the chains on his heart tighten with every word you say. He doesn’t know what hurts him more, the break-up or now knowing how worthless it made you feel. He knows you are an understanding person, but his intentions didn’t settle as he hoped it would. 

It takes all his might to resist pulling you into a hug, With how you reacted to his touch just moments ago, he knows a hug would only result in profanities being spewed out. As if a hug could magically glue the pieces back together and fix it all. “You didn’t do shit wrong, Y/N. You were the epitome of a down ass girl. But all I could see was the tiredness in your face when you would visit me because you were playing mother to Cesar meanwhile trying to juggle everything else. Trying to make sure you would always come to see me… so I thought ending everything would be better, I thought you would be better off.”

The rage and ache in your heart fights against each other. He is saying one thing but to you its processing as nothing but an excuse. You want to yell and thrash your fists against his chest so he can feel just a sliver of what you went through. 

“I was better off with you. It didn’t matter to me what we were going through Oscar… If it was something joyous or something scrutinizing, as long it was with you and we were together, I wanted it all with you. I was ready to go through this journey with you. But you just gave up on us like that.” You snap your fingers and blink away the tears that had begun pooling for sometime now. His shoulders cave in and he dips his head down, unable to keep his eyes locked onto yours. 

“Give me a chance to prove that I haven’t given up on you or us.”

You wanted to laugh again. To point and scream how silly he sounds and to catch the circus act before they leave town but the way he says it is the reason you didn’t. How low his voice is, how soft his eyes are and his walls had dropped to below sea level is what made you stand so incredibly still.

Do you take the chance? Should push aside all the vines and roots that have grown over the chest labeled: Oscar, to let him in again? 

taglist: @clemmingstylins0n @fairygardenss @princesstiffxoxo @firebenderwolf @mbaku-babygirl​ @chellybear98 @multiyfandomgirl40 @i-just-wanna-live-gc @roury66 @lillict @tinylumpiaa @prettymya3 @starrynite7114 @aneitii @b3mybunnybaby  @angelxfics  @spookysbabymama @kkim120 @ladylj @vayagrxce @irenne-stans @boujee-bitches @blessedboo @lidumiw @morenokatt @gltrpzy (please let me know if you want to be added or removed!)

[javier-pena]

alone

Chapter 1 of The Hunt

Pairing: Din Djarin x fem!reader

Word Count: 4.4k

Rating: Mature (for now but that will - spoilers! - change eventually)

Summary: When your best friend and companion is abducted by a group of outlaws, you hire a Mandalorian to help track down the men and get your revenge. What seems like a simple enough task stretches into a month-long trek through inhospitable terrain while both you and the Mandalorian are trying to come to terms with events in your past you cannot change. Set after Season 2.

Warnings: mentions (and short descriptions) of death, murder, and torture | a lot of hurt and no comfort | mentions of loss | mild to moderate language | a lot - and I mean A LOT - of talk about Din’s hands lmao

Notes: This is my first attempt at a Mandalorian fic and the first time in months I’ve written anything. It’s vaguely inspired by my favorite western movies, True Grit (1969/2010), The Quick and the Dead (1995), and The World to Come (2020). So yes, this is going to be very much like a western. I also want to - again - thank Dani @javierpcna​ who was like “are you writing Mandalorian stuff?” about a month ago and has, since then, read through this chapter more often than me and encouraged me to continue to write it and offered so much valuable insight whenever I came to her with an idea ... seriously, Dani, this fic wouldn’t exist without you and I hope I can find a way to repay you! Anyway, I hope you all enjoy this first chapter (I’m already working on the second one) ...

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The day the Mandalorian arrives on Alvorine is the day you lose your best friend. You’re still busy putting out the fire, running your soot-blackened hand across your face, where the dirt mingles with the tears you’re too tired to stop from streaming down your face, when you hear the thrusters of a spacecraft roaring above you. You barely glance up; you can’t be bothered to. It could be the remnants of the Empire looking for recruits, it could be the New Republic looking for the remnants of the Empire, or it could be the bandits coming back for more. But what do you care? They already took away the one person you care most about in the galaxy. You just grip the shovel tighter and drive it into the soil so you can choke the fire underneath moist stones and dirt.

While you exhaust your body with physical labor, you occupy your mind with thoughts of revenge. Revenge as dark and quenching as the soil beneath you. With every load of dirt you heave onto the searing flames, your plan gains another sharp edge until all you can think of is driving the cutting edge down onto the throat of the man who gripped Brea’s arm and pulled her onto the speeder bike. Maybe his head would come off right away, maybe your tool would just obstruct his windpipe as you watch the life drain slowly out of his eyes. And even that would be too good an end for that monster.

It’s not just in your mind – those thoughts aren’t simply there to ground you while you continue your work in the ruins of what was once your home. It’s not pure fantasy, something to give you back a feeling of control. You are determined to follow through on it; you are going to hunt down these men who burned down your farm and stole Brea from you. You will not rest until they are all dead by your hand. And if you should die in the process … then you won’t go out without a fight, without taking as many of those bastards with you as you can. They have sealed their own fate by coming here today.

You know Brea isn’t dead; they won’t kill her unless she tries to kill one of them first. And she wouldn’t do that, she is too gentle for that, too docile. She would rather turn the other cheek. They should have taken you instead; she doesn’t deserve the fate that awaits her. You would’ve at least put up a fight, make them pay for what they did. And Brea? She would just die.

For now, she’s alive. But whatever you set out to do once you’re done here won’t be a rescue mission. You aren’t under the illusion you can save her. You know that even if you were to leave right now, even if you had your own speeder bike, you would never find her in time. No, this possibility hasn’t even crossed your mind. All you want to do is cause these men more pain than they caused you. You know it is impossible because you cannot imagine anything worse, but you sure as hell will do your best.

You straighten your back, drive the shovel into the ground, and use it as support while you try to catch your breath. The air burns in your lungs, and not just from the cold. There is also the steadily rising black smoke that makes breathing hard; your throat stings, so do your sides, and there is a bitter taste in your mouth. But you’re almost finished here, you’re almost done putting out the fire, so it won’t endanger the surrounding forest. And with every flame you bury, you also bury a piece of your soul until you feel like there is nothing left that makes you human, until all the pain and despair you’re feeling since listening to Brea’s screams grow quieter and quieter until they were swallowed up by silence has turned into a cold, brazen cry for revenge. But you’re glad this has made you less forgiving, less kind, less … human. Those things would only get in the way of the task ahead of you.

As the last flames go out with a wet hiss, one of Alvorine’s three blue white suns vanishes behind the treetops. You know the other two will be quick to follow. And you don’t have anywhere to spend the night. You wouldn’t mind sleeping with your back propped against a tree. You’ve done it often enough. But it’s winter, and the air is already cold and will be even colder once the other two suns set too. And you just lost every blanket, every single piece of fabric that could keep you warm in a small inferno. You know this is just an excuse, a comforting lie you tell yourself. The truth is you cannot spend a minute longer on this clearing, even if that means you have to walk the four miles to the next settlement. You’re so exhausted you cannot feel your legs, but you don’t care. Anything is better than spending the night here, even collapsing in the middle of the dark forest.

You leave the shovel where you stand and walk to the edge of the clearing, swallowing around the lump in your throat, trying to hold down more tears that are threatening to spill over and down your cheeks. Once you reach the edge of the forest, where the air is a bit clearer, you take a deep breath and turn around to look at the ruins of your home, now nothing more than a black pile of rubble. You have nothing, nothing but the clothes you’re wearing, not even a small trinket to remind you of Brea and the many happy hours you spent here tending to your fields, sweeping the front porch or sitting around the fireplace sharing supper. Even remembering how you worked on menial chores now feels like the most precious memory, one you will hold onto until your last breath. Because even though they have taken everything from you, they can’t take away the memory of Brea’s laugh.

***

They stare at you as you enter the inn. They stare and then look away. They can’t bear your presence because it reminds them of their own guilt. Not one of them came to your aid this morning, not one of them came afterwards to offer help. And you ignore them too because there is nothing left to say. All you want is some food and a dry place to sleep before you turn your back on them forever.

You sit down at a small table in a dark corner. The patrons around you either turn their backs to you or stand up to move their meals and conversations someplace else. It’s as if you’ve been marked. If you had any strength left in you, you would call them out on their behavior. Shit, you would wreak havoc, and only stop when the last one of them is on their knees begging for forgiveness. But you’re glad you’re too exhausted because your sudden hatred for everyone and everything scares you. The villagers don’t deserve to fall victim to your rage. There is nothing they could’ve done. They are just as defenseless and helpless as you. Would you have come to their aid if your positions were reversed? You would like to think so, but just because it gives you a false sense of moral superiority. Deep down you know the truth. Deep down you know you would hide too, praying that you would be spared.

As you dig into your bowl of soup, you realize how hungry you are. Even though everything tastes like ash in your mouth, your stomach is glad to have something to clench around when your thoughts stray to this morning’s events again. And you know there’s no need to punish yourself by refusing your body the nourishment it needs. The opposite, in fact – you know you’ll need all the strength you can get if you’re really going after them.

As you swallow one ashy bite after the other, you let your eyes wander around the room, looking for something that will distract you from your thoughts and your feelings of guilt. Everyone avoids your gaze; everyone acts as if your corner is empty. Everyone … except one stranger.

He sits in a booth close to the bar, his arms crossed over his chest, his gaze on you. Or at least you think he’s looking at you – he’s wearing a helmet that covers his entire head, the kind you’ve seen twice before in this corner of the galaxy. He’s a Mandalorian, a bounty hunter, and his presence here doesn’t really surprise you. Even though actually seeing one is a rare occurrence, stories about them are countless.

Alvorine is a planet without laws, a planet that lives by its own rules, so many criminals decide to hide out here while they wait for their crimes to be forgotten. There is no military presence on the planet, no judicial system, no one to catch and punish the wrongdoers. The planet follows the rules of whoever is in charge, which changes frequently, but none of the powerful people have enough resources to enforce those rules anyway. Disputes are often just settled by the parties involved in whatever way they see fit. Only the Mandalorians, who are hired by people on other worlds, by people who have never experienced what it is like to live on Alovrine, are brave enough to get involved in those disputes. You have to admit you do feel a tiny bit curious as to why that particular Mandalorian is here ... who hired him? And who is he hunting?

You tentatively let your gaze wander over his stoic body, over the beskar covering his arms and chest, over the bandolier wrapped around his upper body, over the visor hiding his eyes. If you had one like him on your side, you wouldn’t need to worry about getting your revenge. He would catch those men in the blink of an eye. And if you paid him enough, he would do to them whatever you wanted.

He would cut off their limbs but keep them alive long enough to feel it.

He would make them run for it, give them the illusion of hope, only to crush it like their bones.

He would let you watch, let you choose whatever punishment you saw fit.

You shift in your seat because you can almost smell the blood, you can hear a faint echo of their screams, and it makes you feel light-headed and nauseous, but also elevates you, lifts a weight off your shoulders, even if just for a brief moment.

But he’s not here to do your bidding. And when you lift your head again, he’s gone.

You finish your bowl of soup and then decide to rent a room upstairs for the night. You don’t have a place to stay anymore and it’s too dangerous to start your pursuit while it’s dark. The forest belongs to dangerous creatures during the night, more dangerous than any man out there. And you’re planning on staying alive for just a little while longer.

You stretch and yawn and move to get up when your path is suddenly blocked. It happens so fast you don’t register anything at first apart from the cold, hard beskar chest plate that is level with your face. Its unexpected appearance makes you lose your balance and you fall back down onto the bench you’ve been sitting on. The Mandalorian extends his hand, his fingers closing around thin air. It’s a half-hearted attempt to stop your fall, and it comes too late – your backside has already painfully collided with the hard wood.

“May I join you?” His voice sounds distorted through the modulator in his helmet. He sounds like a machine, not like a being with a heartbeat.

You want to tell him no, want to tell him to fuck off, but for tonight you have no fight left in you. So you nod.

He sits down and you expect to hear the clink of his armor, expect to feel a tremor when his heavy body comes to rest on a stool opposite you. But there is no sound, no movement, and the lack makes you sit up straighter. This isn’t just another cowardly villager you can get rid of by glaring at him … this is an apex predator.

You swallow with some difficulty. “Can I help you?” you ask, your voice level, your eyes resting on his glove-clad hands lying on the table. You figure you’re safe as long as you can see them.

At first, he doesn’t say anything. He just looks at you. Or at least you think he’s looking at you. You cannot see his eyes behind the tinted visor. No matter how uncomfortable the situation makes you feel, you try not to move … you try not to show any sign of weakness, to give him any excuse to lunge across the table and strangle you.

Finally, he answers. “I’m looking for work.”

Now you cannot help but move. You exhale sharply, and with that release of breath comes a release of tension as you slump backwards, your back hitting the wall behind you. You cross your arms over your chest. “I can’t help you,” you say. You don’t have any work to offer him, no work worthy of the skills of a Mandalorian who usually hunts down important people, kings, merchants, people who influence the course of the galaxy’s history. Following a few lowly bandits is not the work he’s used to. You don’t even want to tell him about it because you know he’d take it as an insult. And even if - by some miracle - your quest for revenge would be deemed a worthy cause in the eyes of the Mandalorian, you couldn’t afford his services.

The slightest movement of his helmet is the only reaction your answer gets out of him. Whether he shifts because he’s surprised or because he’s angry, or whether his scalp itches under the metal you cannot tell.

Still, you feel the need to explain yourself. “I’m sorry, I don’t have any money.”

Shit, that’s the wrong thing to say. It implies you have work for him, but that you’re too poor to pay him. For all you know, this could be a grave insult in Mandalorian society.

His fingers on the table clench around thin air again. “What can you offer?” he asks.

He doesn’t want to know about the job, the quarry as you know they call it. No, he just wants to know how much he can earn.

“240 credits,” you answer. It’s all you have. You won’t need it anymore.

He tilts his head and you expect him to refuse, but then he says, “That’s enough.”

You’re taken aback, surprised. He’s caught you off-guard. You were fully prepared to see him walk away at hearing the ridiculously low amount of money you just offered. “You don’t even know what the job is,” you protest. The last thing you need is a Mandalorian hunting you down because you’re not paying him enough.

“They told me,” he says with a nod behind him.

You follow the movement with your eyes and see heads whip to the side, gazes wandering downwards, you notice conversations being picked up again. White hot fury fills you, more powerful than the flames that destroyed your house.

“They had no right,” you press out through clenched teeth.

The Mandalorian doesn’t say anything. He sits still like a statue, unwavering, as you fight a small battle with yourself. You should leave without looking back. Messing with a Mandalorian is even more dangerous than the task ahead of you. But he’s offering you something invaluable, something no amount of credits can get you: a chance. If you go alone, you’ll be dead in about a week. There’s no use pretending you’ll get out of it alive. But if you accept the Mandalorian’s help – his services, you have to remind yourself – you might make it through two. You might get to see your dreams of revenge become reality.

You sigh deeply as a heavy weariness settles over you. You’re exhausted, and now that all the adrenaline has left your body, you can feel all the small cuts and bruises today’s labors have left behind. And you feel empty … cold and empty, and utterly alone.

The Mandalorian still doesn’t say anything. He doesn’t defend the villagers, he doesn’t tell you what he knows about you or the job, he doesn’t try to persuade you to take him up on his offer, nor does he walk away from it. He just sits there and waits for you to make up your mind, as if it’s all the same to him. And it probably is. Either he goes with you and earns some money, or he doesn’t and looks for work elsewhere. He is completely detached from the whole affair. There is no emotional investment, just a job that needs to be done.

He doesn’t care if you live or die, he just cares if you pay him or not.

This realization is what finally helps you make up your mind. “I want to hire you,” you say, your tongue heavy in your mouth. All you really want is to sleep.

There is no reaction for the longest time but then the Mandalorian nods. You’re not sure if you’re supposed to say something, give him details or explain the specifics of the job to him. But before you can decide what to say next, he stands abruptly.

“I’ll be back in a few days,” he says before turning around.

Your brain needs a moment to catch up but when it does, you’re already on your feet. “Wait,” you say, and to your surprise the broad, steel-clad man listens to you.

He doesn’t face you, but he stops.

You briefly consider asking him if you can accompany him, but you don’t. You don’t have to ask, you get to decide.

“I’m coming with you,” you tell him.

You tell a stranger, a dangerous one at that, one who makes his money by making other people’s lives a living hell, that you will travel with him through dark, deserted forests where no one will stop him from taking what he wants from you instead of earning it, where no one will come to your aid should he not honor the deal you apparently just made with him. And you don’t care. Because no matter what he will do to you, it can’t be worse than what has already been done.

But all your worries and fears focus in on just one tiny aspect of this whole, fucked-up situation when he says, “I work alone.”

You don’t want to negotiate. This shouldn’t even be up for debate. You’re his employer now, you get to decide how things are done. But if you insist on this, he could just walk away from you. And you cannot let that happen now that you’ve had an idea of what it would be like to have a Mandalorian on your side.

“We’re not a team,” you say. “Think of me as an interested party. As someone who is fascinated by your work.”

You’re not sure if that is the right thing to say. His shoulders move, but he still doesn’t turn around. When he speaks again, you know it was the wrong thing to say.

“I work alone or not at all.”

You don’t want to accept that. You want to be there when those men are punished for what they did. You don’t want to wait around for the Mandalorian to come back, not when you don’t have anywhere to wait around in. You’ve lost everything. Had he talked to the villagers as he claims, he would know this. Or maybe he does. Maybe he knows you lost your home today but doesn’t care. He doesn’t even know the definition of the word home. It means nothing to him.

You take a deep breath. “Then I won’t be needing your services.”

This finally makes him turn around. Everything in you screams for you to take a few steps back, to put yourself out of his reach. You can feel the atmosphere between you shift – he draws back his shoulders, makes himself even taller than he already is. And you know, you just know, that refusing his offer, that backtracking on your agreement is the worst mistake you made tonight.

You’re pretty sure that not honoring a deal is the worst insult to a Mandalorian.

“Going alone will be your death,” he says when you cannot bear the tension a second longer.

“What’s it to you?”

The words are out. They are a challenge, one you didn’t mean to make, one you shouldn’t have made, but it’s done now. Your hand begins to tremble, and your feet grow cold with fear as you prepare yourself for his reaction. You don’t know if he will hit you, tie you up, torture you, or just kill you on the spot. He could do all of these things without having to fear any repercussions. You curse yourself for not having been more careful, for making this fatal mistake, because now Brea will go unavenged. Just because you couldn’t keep your damn mouth shut, just because you’re stubborn and hot-headed and oh so stupid.

But to your surprise, the Mandalorian shrugs. He lifts his broad shoulders, then lowers them again as your eyes follow the movement. But he’s not giving you anything more: He doesn’t insist on going alone, he doesn’t turn around and leave, he just keeps standing opposite you, motionless, emotionless, until you’re convinced you imagined the shrug.

So you decide to make the next move by removing yourself from this situation before he changes his mind and drags you back to his ship to do whatever he wants to you. You take a deep breath and start to step around him, a movement that is almost impossible to complete in this small space you’re both in. But you attempt it, nevertheless. When you’re level with him, doing your best not to brush up against him so you won’t enrage him, you hear his voice. It’s just one sentence, four words, but for some reason it sounds so much more human than it did when he was opposite you. Maybe it has something to do with the distance between his helmet and your ear, maybe it’s the angle from which the sounds hit your eardrums or maybe it’s because you feel light-headed, dizzy with the realization he hasn’t killed you yet and probably won’t.

He says, “Have it your way.”

You stop right next to him, staring ahead at a group of three men who do their best not to look at you. But you don’t see them anyway. In fact, you don’t see anything at all because the rushing sound in your ears drowns out everything else, even other senses.

“You can come with me,” he says, and it’s the first time he has spoken two sentences in a row. “But you do as I say.” Three. “If I tell you to run, you run.” Four. “If I tell you to get out of the way, you do so.” Five. “And if I tell you to kill, you kill.” Six.

Then nothing, just the faint sound of his deep breaths through the modulator.

Your thoughts are racing, tripping over their own feet like children running down a hill, and they’re unbearably loud. Everything is loud suddenly, from the sound of the barkeep filling a glass to the way that woman over there is chewing her food. The only thing that’s quiet is the last one you would have suspected to be so: the Mandalorian. Now he is waiting for you to say something and as he does, he balls his hand into a fist and then releases the tension again, over and over like a nervous tic, like he needs an outlet for the tension in his body, the tension you have no idea he is feeling until you see his arm flex beneath the fabric covering it.

But, once more, you’re at war with yourself. You don’t know what to tell him. There is still that shimmer of hope on the horizon, the light that makes you believe you stand a chance if you bring him along. But his terms … you’re not sure if you can accept them. He doesn’t know Alvorine or the men you would be hunting half as well as you do. And you’ve never been one for following orders. So if you feel that his assessment of a situation is wrong, you’re not sure you’ll be able to run just because he tells you to.

You have a feeling that defying his orders would be the most dangerous thing you could ever do, even more dangerous than hunting down a group of ruthless bandits who like to torture and kill for fun.

“All right,” you say finally.

His fist unclenches one last time and he exhales slowly.

“But when we find them,” you swallow hard, once, but your mouth is completely dry, “I get to decide what happens to them.”

The Mandalorian turns toward you so abruptly that you almost lose your balance. You lean back and hit your elbow on the wall behind you. The pain makes you curse under your breath.

“Agreed,” he whispers. He sounds like a machine again, as if everything that makes him human is shut away beneath that cold, hard, invaluable beskar steel. You too feel cold suddenly, cold and afraid. “But until then you do as I say. Understood?”

You nod, not trusting your voice. He is too close to you, and drowns out everything else, even the sounds that you considered to be too loud mere seconds ago. If he wouldn’t be wearing a helmet, you would be able to feel his breath on your cheek. He takes up your field of vision almost entirely. You’ve never felt more on display, and yet more hidden. And you know that if you say the wrong thing now, it will have terrible consequences.

So you just nod again.

“We leave in the morning,” he tells you, then turns around suddenly and leaves, his cape trailing behind him.

All sounds come rushing back at once, as if you’ve just emerged out of a pool of water. You release your breath quickly, only now realizing you’ve been holding it. Then you slump back against the wall, a shaking, quivering mess.

***

tag list: @bella-ciao​, @filthybookworm​, @frannyzooey​, @khalysa​, @leannawithacapitala​, @mothandpidgeon​, @mrsparknuts​, @mxsamwilson​, @piscespussybabe​, @something-tofightfor​

[stardust-walker]

High Hopes: Chapter 17

Previous Chapters:  1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 10 11 12 13 14 15 16

word count: 2773

_________________________________________________

There was an unease in the air as they all gathered around the fire for breakfast. It felt like something big was about to happen, she just didn’t know what it was yet. Dove perched herself on top of a bucket and was beginning to shovel eggs into her mouth as Glenn cleared his throat. She turned; an eyebrow raised as she looked at her friend.

“So, guys,” Glenn trailed off for a moment. “There’s walkers in the barn.” Dove’s heart sank to her stomach as she dropped her fork back to her plate. A quick glance around the fire showed everyone was about as shocked as she was.

“Well, c’mon then. Show us,” Shane’s harsh voice broke the silence. Dove didn’t want to move from the spot she was in, but it didn’t seem like she had much of a choice. T-Dog stood up from next to her and offered her his hand. She rolled her eyes as she accepted the help to stand.

“I don’t know why we all have to go look,” Dove whispered to Carol as she tugged at the hem of her shirt. “Why would Glenn make that shit up?”

Carol shook her head, “I don’t know.” Carol grabbed her sister’s hand and gave it a squeeze.

Glenn was telling the truth, as expected and Shane was not happy about it in the slightest. “This is Hershel’s land! We’re guests here,” Rick began to argue as Glenn tried to calm the two men down.

“We can’t just sweep this under the rug,” Andrea piped up.

“It ain’t right. Not remotely,” Shane agreed.

Dove shook her head as she put a comforting arm around Carol. “No one’s saying it’s right, Shane. Not a soul is but think about it. If Hershel’s keeping them in the barn, there has to be a reason behind it.”

Shane shook his head as he began to pace, “Don’t really care what the reason is. We’ve either got to make things right or we’ve just got to go. Now we have been talking about Fort Benning for a long time.”

A mix of anger and panic surged through Dove. Shane was a selfish, arrogant bastard, and now he wanted to leave without Sophia.

“We can’t leave,” Rick spoke up. But that still wasn’t good enough for Shane.

“Sophia’s still out there,” Carol stepped forward, out of Dove’s grasp. “I’m not leaving without her.” Dove chewed nervously on her thumbnail as Daryl walked up beside her.

“I think it’s time that we all just start to consider the other possibility,” Shane tried to keep his voice steady.

Dove dropped her hands to her sides and chewed on the inside of her cheek before she couldn’t hold it in anymore. “What other possibility? The possibility that you didn’t give two shits about finding Sophia in the first place? Because I’ve already considered that possibility,” she hissed at the deputy.

Shane didn’t seem phased at all, though. “Now you listen, bird. We’ve been looking for her since day one, so don’t come at me with that.”

Dove huffed, “Daryl’s been looking is what I think you mean. Rick’s been looking, but you never seemed too dead set on it from the start. So sorry if I’m not fully buying what you’re selling.” Carol shot Dove a panicked glance; it was enough to make the younger woman back down as Rick stepped up.

“We’re not leaving Sophia behind,” Rick stated.

Daryl spoke up next as he began to pace, “I’m close to finding this girl! I just found her damn doll two days ago.”

Shane let out a short laugh and Dove thought about throwing a shovel at his head. “You found her doll, Daryl. That’s what you did. You found a doll.”

“He found the doll; Sophia has to be close by. Right,” Dove was beginning to feel like she was grasping at straws and she didn’t like that feeling. Not one bit. She knew there was a possibility that Sophia was dead, she’d just never thought on it too much. She was an educated woman, but that didn’t mean she couldn’t be superstitious. Dove felt like if she thought about Sophia being dead too much, it might be something that came into existence.

“You don’t know what the hell you’re talking about, Shane,” Daryl shouted as he stepped forward. Dove and Carol were right behind him as he swung an arm at Shane. Dove placed a hand on Daryl’s arm for a moment as he lowered his arm. A quick glance between them said enough, they were all growing tired and wary of Shane.

“I’m just saying what needs to be said. You get a good lead, it’s in the first 48 hours,” Shane explained.

“Shane, stop,” Rick pleaded as Carol began to tear up.

Dove turned her attention to her sister. “Don’t listen to him, Carol. Look at me, we’re gonna find her,” Dove trailed off as Shane began to shout once again.

“Let me tell you something else, man. If she was alive out there and saw you coming, all methed out with your buck knife and your geek ears around your neck? She would run in the other direction,” Shane shouted.

Carol brought both of her hands up to her mouth as Daryl took a real swing at Shane. Rick tried his best to block the two men from each other and Dove could feel the adrenaline pumping in her veins as she stepped forward. She reached out her hand and caught Daryl’s arm in mid-swing. “Stop it,” Dove shouted over the chaos at Shane. Daryl was stronger than he looked, even recovering from an injury and he broke out of her grasp, like a bloodhound that had caught a scent and continued to go after Shane.

Dove shoved herself in between Rick and Daryl. “Leave it,” she hissed at the redneck as she gave him a sharp shove backwards. Daryl’s blue eyes went wide as he stumbled back a step towards Carol. “Shane’s trying to make you look like a piece of shit and you’re better than that,” she whispered as Rick managed to get Shane to retreat.

“She’s right,” Carol nodded in quiet agreement.

Shane was like a rampaging lunatic and for the first time since everything started, Dove felt true fear. “Just let me talk to Hershel,” Rick tried to reason with his friend. “I have to talk to him about it no matter what. We stay, we clear the barn, but I have to talk him into it! This is his land.”

Dale stepped up, a hand raised in the air. “Hershel sees though things in there as people.” Dove ran a hand through her hair as she tried to process the fact that Hershel thought the people in his barn were still alive. “Sick people. His wife, his stepson.”

“You knew,” the betrayal was obvious in Rick’s voice.

“Yesterday I talked to Hershel,” Dale explained calmly.

“And you waited the night,” Shane rounded on the old man.

Dove let out a heavy sigh as she turned and faced towards the fields behind her. She just felt sick about everything. She tried to focus on the fact that there were walkers on the barn, but she could only think of two things. One, Shane thought Sophia was dead. And two, Shane was becoming less and less stable by the day.

Her thoughts were cut off as loud growls began to leave the barn. A shiver ran down her spine as she grabbed Carol’s arm and began backing up. “How many of those fucking things are in there,” she whispered to Carol.

Carol shook her head quickly, “Too many…”

~

Dove didn’t know what to do with herself when she got back to camp. Her nerves were shot, and she felt like she just wanted to run. She couldn’t even say where she wanted to run too, but she didn’t want to be here. The walkers in the barn pushed her over the edge.

“Hey,” a voice snapped her out of her thoughts. She twitched nervously before she turned her attention to the man who spoke.

“Can I help you,” she responded coolly.

“I just…I wanted to talk to someone from your group,” Julian lowered his voice as he knelt next to her. “I know that you guys are supposed to leave after you find your niece.”

“We might not,” Dove responded quickly as she glanced quickly towards the barn.

“I wanna come with you guys when you leave,” Julian interrupted. Dove’s eyebrows shot up.

“Why would you wanna do that? Isn’t your family here,” Dove inquired.

Julian shook his head. “No, I…” He sighed heavily and ran a hand down his face. “My sister and I were trying to get to Atlanta when everything went down. Barely made it any further than that traffic jam you guys said you got stuck in from how backed up it was. Everything went to shit, people panicked. We got separated. I ran here because my parents were friends with Hershel. It’s stupid, but it’s the first place I thought of that wouldn’t lead me right into a herd of panicking people.”

Dove stared at the younger man; hazel eyes scanned him as she tried to think of anything to say. “Sorry about your sister.”

“That’s why I wanna go with you guys. I think she’s still out there,” Julian explained, and Dove opened her mouth to reply before she squinted into the distance. People were walking towards the stables and she didn’t have to look hard to see that her sister was one of them.

“Like I said,” Dove spoke again as she rose to her feet. “Sorry about your sister, but I’m not in charge here. Talk to Rick,” she called over her shoulder as she took off at a slow jog towards her sister.

Dove picked up the pace as she didn’t hear any noise coming from the stable and when she got close enough, she realized what was happening. Carol had followed Daryl to try and stop him. He was going to get himself killed. “We don’t know if we’re gonna find her, Daryl. I don’t,” Carol spoke, and Dove felt like a dagger entered her heart.

“What,” Daryl spoke quietly as Dove peeked around the corner. She didn’t want to be noticed right now.

“Can’t lose you too,” Carol said. Dove took a deep breath and leaned her head against the warm wood of the stable. Carol cared too much about other people for her own good; hell, maybe they both did. Dove jumped at the sudden noise of things being thrown inside.

“Just leave me be,” Daryl’s tone was harsher now and Dove flinched. “Stupid bitch,” Daryl growled as he walked out of the stable. He didn’t even see Dove as he passed her. She watched for a moment as he stomped off towards the trees before she turned and looked into the stable.

Carol stood there with tears streaming down her face, but the second she saw Dove, she began to wipe them away quickly. “What are you doing here,” Carol’s voice cracked.

Dove stepped further into the barn until she was able to embrace her sister. Carol shuddered as she tried to hold back a sob. “Carol, talk to me.” Dove stroked Carol’s back as she tried to soothe her.

“I tried to stop him from going to look for Sophia. He already got so hurt looking for her. He’s a good person, Dove. We can’t lose him too,” Carol wiped her eyes again. “Not after Jacqui. Not after Sophia.” Dove felt another wave of sadness wash over her at the thought of Jacqui. She didn’t realize that she missed the older woman, she tried not to think about it too much. Dove didn’t want to fall down a slippery slope that would take her a long time to crawl out of.

Dove squeezed her sister’s shoulder. “Listen, it’s not gonna happen.” She shook her head.

Carol sniffled and pulled away from her sister. “You saw what Shane did today. What do you think would’ve happened if the two of them actually fought? Shane’s strong, we all saw him put him in that chokehold back at camp.” Dove wrinkled her nose. “What if…” Carol trailed off.

Dove wiped her hands on the front of her shirt before she tilted her head back and looked up at the ceiling of the stables. “I’m gonna go find him,” Dove decided.

Carol spoke up, “Wait…”

“Listen, he still needs to get shit for calling you a dumb bitch,” she planted her feet on the ground and crossed her arms in front of her chest. Carol just stared at her younger sister before the brunette disappeared out of the stables.

Dove squinted against the sun as she walked towards the direction that she had last seen Daryl in. She didn’t expect what she saw. Dove stayed quiet as she reached down to untie her shoelaces. The brunette peeled her socks off her feet before she quietly stepped forward. Dove sighed as she lowered herself to sit on the dock next to the redneck.

“What do you want,” Daryl’s voice was quiet. She didn’t expect that either.

“Well, I came out here to tell you that I really don’t appreciate you calling my sister a stupid bitch, but it’s really peaceful out here. Don’t know if I wanna ruin it,” she shrugged her shoulders as she moved her feet back and forth in the water.

It was quiet for a few seconds before Daryl spoke again. “She said that she doesn’t know if we’re gonna find Sophia. Got real mad I guess.”

“Well, I’d appreciate it if you didn’t do it again. She got enough of that shit from Ed, ya know.” Dove shook her head, “The truth is, we don’t know if we’re gonna find Sophia alive or dead. We’re gonna find her, just a matter of when. It’s just Shane getting into her head because she’s stressed out and he got her all frazzled.” Daryl grunted in response as Dove turned to face him. “She means well. Carol does, I mean. She just…worries about you I guess.”

Daryl huffed as he kicked at the water, “Don’t need anyone worryin about me.”

“Well, that’s too bad. Because once Carol decides to worry about something, she basically makes it her job.” Dove nodded her head. “I mean if mothering was an Olympic sport, she would have several gold medals,” Dove chuckled and she noticed the corner of Daryl’s lip twitch up in a light smile.

It was gone before she could say anything, but he turned to look at her. “I’m sorry I haven’t found her yet.”

Dove furrowed her brow as she turned slightly. She pulled one of her feet out of the water and pulled her knee up to her chest as she faced the older man. “Hey,” she hesitantly reached out and placed a hand on his shoulder. Daryl flinched slightly but didn’t make a move to jerk away. “I meant what I said before. You’re better than Shane. Better than half of the people that I knew before this whole thing went down, actually.”

Daryl raised an eyebrow. “Don’t need you lyin to me to make your case, Dove.”

“Shane’s losing his shit out here, man. And if he loses it and kills someone? If he kills you after all the shit we’ve been through over the past few weeks?” Dove clenched her teeth and shook her head.

Daryl scoffed and spoke again as he turned away from her, “Nothing’s gonna happen. I…” He stopped mid-sentence and pulled both of his feet out of the water.

“Hey, what?” Dove frowned as Daryl grabbed her lightly by the arm and pulled her to her feet. “Where are we going,” Dove tried her best to keep up with him before he came to a stop. He released her arm and she followed his gaze towards the edge of the pond. Her jaw dropped.

“Look. Wait right here,” he said as he began to pull his socks and shoes back on.

“Where are you going?” Dove questioned, not looking away from the bush.

“Goin to get your sister. I’ll be right back,” then Daryl was gone.

Dove had always been one to find comfort in nature, but she never felt more at peace than she did as she stood there and waited for them to return. If the story that Daryl had told them had any truth to it, then that bush of Cherokee roses had definitely bloomed for Sophia.

__

@crossbowking​ @momc95​ @chaotic-gary-king-stan​

[anythingandeverything1d]

Not in the same way

A few months ago:

You were sitting cross legged on Harry’s bed while he was on the phone. You were scrolling thorough pictures of the two of you and smiling thinking about how great the past year had been together. You had fallen completely head over heels in love with him in that time and he genuinely made you the happiest person on earth. You had been wanting to tell him that for quite a while you just didn't know how to make it special and memorable. So, with the help of some friends, you had painted a map onto a small wooden board with all the places Harry had toured and in each area that was filled in was a picture of the two of you. The bottom had your initials carved into a heart with the date you had started dating. You were so excited to show him the finished product. He walked back in the room with a slight frown on his face, not looking up from the phone but you smiled, patting the bed next to you “Harry..”

“Yeah love?” he mumbled still looking down.

“I have a surprise for you.”

“A surprise?” his head finally glanced up from the phone and looked at you curiously. 

“Mhm...come sit down.” 

He sat next to you with his hand on your knee and his eyes curiously looking into yours. “What kind of surprise are we talking here?” He leaned over kissing your ear, causing you to slightly smile.

You looked down, feeling a little nervous to how he would react. You pulled the board out from the pillow it was sitting under and handed it over to him. “I just wanted to do something to commemorate making it through this past year together and let you know that I love you.” You looked at him looking at the gift but he remained silent so you nervously continued on..”I love you so so much Harry and I’m grateful for every moment we have together, whether we are FaceTiming late at night when I can't sleep or if we are just having a lazy day in bed. I know that you will be leaving in a few weeks to do your next tour so I thought you could take that with you. To give you a little piece of home while you're gone.” Your cheeks had blushed red and you had looked down. 

“Oh.”

You looked at him a little confused and hurt. “Oh?”

He set the board gently down and looked at you running his fingers through your hair with a pained expression on his face. “It’s just that, you know with me leaving and everything and I’ll be gone so much longer this time that I thought maybe it would be a good idea to take a break.” His lips pressed together and he watched you carefully. You just stood up from the bed and looked at him before turning away to hide the tears. 

“Oh.”

“(y/n) I mean I just think-”

“No I get it.” you grabbed your jacket from his floor and walked out the door mumbling goodbye, and that was the last you had heard from Harry Styles.

Present Day:

It had been a few months since the break up with Harry. At first you had taken it really hard but eventually you moved on with life and tried forgetting about the curly haired boy you once knew. “Hey beautiful.” Luke said wrapping his arms around your waist and pressing a gentle kiss to your cheek. “Ready for the award show tonight?”You had only been dating Luke for around a month but it felt good, and he did make you really happy. Tonight 5 Seconds of Summer would be performing at the AMAs and Luke had invited you to be his date, which meant getting red carpet ready of course. You smiled and nodded.

“Of course I am!” You pressed a kiss to his lips. “Im really excited to see you guys play.”

“Im really excited for you to watch us and for me to see you in this dress.” You rolled your eyes and laughed at him. Your dress had been specially designed. It was a sleek black dress with a slit up the side to show off your leg, and Luke had been eyeing it since you originally got fitted. 

“Speaking of which” you grabbed the dress from his hand. “I need to actually get dressed so mind leaving?” He stuck his lip out and pretended to pout.

“I could help you get into the dress you know.” He wiggled his eyes and bit his lip.

“Oh I’m sure you could, but something tells me that I would end up with less clothes on then when we started..”

“I wouldn't complain..” his kissed your lips, lingering a little longer before you smiled and pushed him softly away.

“Go.” you laughed. “Before I change my mind and you miss your performance and the award show all together.” 

“Anything for you.” he said with a wink. “I should probably be getting ready as well. See you soon beautiful.” He kissed your cheek once more before leaving the room. Your stylists luckily came in as he was exiting and sat you down in the chair.

You spent the next few hours getting ready. From getting into the gown, to getting hair, makeup, and nails all done. It was quite a process but the end goal was totally worth it. You spun in the mirror admiring yourself before heading out to meet Luke and the other guys. They were huddled in the corner by the car and all stopped dead when you walked over. Their mouths dropped and Luke stepped forward taking your hand and slowly spinning you. “(y/n)...uh” he stumbled while his face turned bright red. “You look absolutely stunning.” The other guys nodded their agreements and you smiled thanking them all before climbing into the limo after them. 

You were nervous..you hadn't been on a red carpet since Harry and you didn't know what to expect from tonight. Luke held your hand tightly and squeezed, assuring you that everything would be perfect. He helped you out of the car and held onto your waist as the paparazzi flashed their cameras, pushing closer to ask questions and get the best shot. Luke looked forward and guided you to the next camera location and smiled kissing your cheek as you posed with a smile. You had taken nearly a hundred pictures with him when an interviewer came over asking for some news on their new album. You backed up, giving them space and watching with a smile as they teased new hints and what song they would be performing. You were about to join them when a guy with a camera stepped in front of you, causing you to stumble backwards and trip into the person behind you. 

“Sor-” you stopped dead as you looked up into the face of person whose hand had stopped you from falling. Your eyes were looking into the emerald green eyes of none other than Harry Styles. Your heart was pounding and you shifted your feet taking a step back from him. Harry was surprised too. His eyes traveled your body slowly from head to toe, leading your face to turn a very dark red color. His eyes made their way back to yours and he smirked seeing the blush on your cheeks. “Sorry..” you awkwardly continued, trying to step back from him. 

“(y/n)....” Harry breathed. “Uh- its, you look um” he stumbled with his words. You stumbled with your thoughts as you looked him up and down. He was wearing a white floral suit with a black button down shirt. His hair in soft curls. You could barely look away, he looked like a god. “You look-wow” he breathed out again. You shuffled away and looked down, he noticed and grabbed your hand again. “Look (y/n)..there’s something I’ve wanted to talk to you about...I just didn't know how to go about it..and Ive been meaning to call or text or just show up on your door ste-”

“Harry-”

“No seriously. Look I was an idiot. I never shouldve let you leave that night and I’m sorry for that. I just had some things going on and-”

“Please...Harry just stop.”

“No because I’m in love with you. I always have been..” He looked at you and stepped forward. You willed your legs to move but nothing happened except for your heart rate rising as he got closer. Luckily, Luke, Ashton, Calum and Michael had finally made their way over. Luke looked from you to Harry with a concerned gaze as he followed your hand that was resting in his. You awkwardly pulled it away and took Luke’s instead. Harry looked disappointed and then upset watching the exchange happen and you just looked at your feet. 

“Everything okay?” Luke asked noticing the tension. 

“Yeah, Harry had just stopped me from falling. I tripped over the guy with the camera.”

“You always are a clumsy one.” Luke laughed pulling you close. “Thanks for helping Harry, its always a pleasure.”

“Same to you guys. I look forward to seeing your performance tonight.” He said, his eyes leaving you and focusing on the group.

“Yeah it should be a good one, but we have to get going to sound check.” Luke turned to you, “Ready?” you nodded and he smiled kissing your nose and pulling you along. “See ya later Harry.” Harry didn’t answer, just watched with a murderous look in his eyes as Luke pulled you away.

You sat in a chair listening to sound check, or partly listening. Your mind had been stuck on Harry since the encounter and it was driving you to distraction. All of the emotions that you had shoveled way down after the breakup were making their way up to the surface. Hurt, confusion, disbelief, and lust. Did he love you, did he not?  “(y/n)?” Luke asked concerned. You shook your head and looked at him.

“What?”

“We asked what you thought...”

“Oh...I thought you guys sounded great” you lied. You hadn’t actually listened to a thing they had just sung but your answer had satisfied them. He smiled and nodded taking the guitar and setting it down. 

“Well then boys, we should probably get out to the awards then and find our seats.” You followed slightly behind the boys trying to get your brain focused on the show ahead, but when you came to your seats you were surprised to find Harry in the row directly behind yours.

“Well isn't this exciting.” he said looking at you with a devilish grin. “Just like old times right guys?” You thought you were going to be sick. No one else seemed to notice the tension or anxiety Harry had caused within you and you were grateful for that and annoyed. Luke should've been able to pick up on the shift... The awards started and luckily that meant no distractions..or so you thought. Harry touched you at every point he possibly could. A tap with his foot on your leg. His fingers brushing against your neck as he leaned forward to comment something to one of the boys. Every touch was driving you deeper into your thoughts and deeper into your feelings. 

Luke seemed to finally notice something off so he put his arm around you, leaned in and whispered a “are you okay?” against your ear. 

“Yeah, just a little hungry” you lied. He didn’t look fully convinced so you placed a kiss on his lips, earning a smile from him, and an angry look within Harry. Unfortunately the boys all had to leave to prepare for their performance. and get on stage, which meant you would be alone with Harry for the next 20ish minutes at least. You had wished the guys all good luck, hugging them tightly before they walked away. You then nervously settled into your chair as Harry walked around and took Luke’s seat. 

“So. You and Hemmings?” Harry mumbled leaning extra close, his hand resting lightly on your thigh.

“Yeah.” you said distractedly, playing with the bracelet on your wrist and avoiding eye contact with him. 

“When did that start?”

You looked up annoyed. “When do we break up again?” you said sarcastically. Harry also looked annoyed and he sat up straighter before leaning in closely again. 

“So you just move on like that?” he said pointedly.

“Like what Harry?” he was getting a rouse out of you and he knew it.

“I just find it a little suspicious that you tell me you love me and then move on so quickly, that’s all.”

“Fuck you Harry.” He smirked and pressed on. 

“Does Hemmings know about us? Does he know about how you felt, all the nights we spent together?” 

You rolled your eyes. “Leave me alone Harry.”

“Ahh so he doesn't know which is why he didn’t seem to notice the reaction you had to me earlier.”

“How about you just go back to your seat now?” you ask but he has other plans. “And there was no reaction.”

“Now you never have been a good liar love. Are you going to tell him or should I?”

That led to the snap. You hadn’t mentioned Harry to Luke before because you didn't want questions about your feelings. You didn’t want the memories of him. You had kind of just assumed he already knew since it had been a public relationship in the past. Your eyes locked on his and you leaned in close. “Harry. I swear to god. Don’t you even dare. Its my relationship and I’ll decide when I want to tell him things about my past, so read my lips and leave me the fuck alone”

Harry grinned and whispered, “I thought you would never ask.” He pressed his lips to yours, cupping your cheeks with his hands and pulling your face closer. You reached up, your hands on his chest. You meant to push him off but he gently bit down on your lip and your body gave in. You moaned softly into the kiss and your hands knotted into his black shirt, wrinkling the once ironed fabric. Your brain was telling you no but everything else in your body was telling you yes. Harry’s kiss left goosebumps running up and down your body and when he pulled away, you were gasping for your breath while your body begged for more. Harry look satisfied with himself and sat up straighter with a smile on his face. “Tell me love, how's that kiss compare to the ones you have with Luke?” You groaned annoyed with him and scooted a seat away as the lights dimmed and the music played. The boys had chosen to perform Not in the Same Way, one of your favorite songs on their new album. You hummed along to the words, trying to ignore the very smug face Harry had sitting next to you. The words of the song really hit you differently at that moment. “I love you, you love me, but not in the same way.” Did you love Luke? Did you love Harry? Did either of them love you? There was so much you were confused on. The song ended and you hadn't really noticed. You were still distracted by the fact Harry was sitting near you, the smell of his cologne intoxicating you as if it were a drug. Your brain felt fuzzy and you were feeling off balance. Harry seemingly saying what you were thinking whispered, “He loves you, you love him but its not the same because you, my love, still love me.” Your mouth dropped open and you looked at him as he smiled before moving back to his seat, crossing his arms as he sat back down behind you. Luke and the guys made their way back over and you dramatically grabbed him, kissing him hard on the lips and giving Harry a look behind you. The other guys whistled and clapped Luke on the back before sitting down again. 

“Did you like the show?” Luke asked with a smile.

You nodded, your brain was comparing the kisses. Harry’s was knee weakening. It made you want to drown in him forever. Luke’s was gentle and comforting. Everything going on in your brain was making you feel sick. “Uh I’m going to run to the bathroom” you told Luke who nodded and turned the other guys to talk about the performance. You stood up and wobbled grabbing the chair for support, causing Luke to turn to you with a look of concern. 

“You okay?” he went to stand up and help you.

You stepped back. “I’m fine, just tripped.” You turned again, making a point to not look at Harry and walked out to find the bathroom. Once you made it to the bathroom, you gripped the edge of the sink and looked in the mirror. You had tears threatening to spill out of your eyes from frustration. You weren't even mad Harry had kissed you. You were mad that you had enjoyed it. You wanted to hate him. You wanted to never see him again. You looked up again and jumped when you saw Harry standing behind you in the mirror. You took a deep breath and slowly turned hissing “What are you doing in here?”

He sighed and looked at his feet. “I just wanted to make sure you were okay...you seemed a little off when you left.”

“And you had to come into the women's bathroom to do that? Aren't you a little worried someone will walk in and freak out?”

“I locked the door behind me. Its just me and you.” he stepped forward and ran his fingers across your cheek. You weren't sure how to feel about this situation and you tried to step away but your body willed you forward leaning into his touch. He sighed and opened his arms. Unwillingly you walked into them, your head against his chest and your arms tightening around his torso. “(y/n)...”

You shook your head and stepped away looking at him. “Please don’t Harry. I really can’t.”

“I can’t live without you anymore.”

“You seem to have done well the last few months without me.”

“You don't even know. I’ve been a disaster. The only thing keeping me from rushing to you was the fact that Louis and Liam talked me out of it. They said just to wait until tour was over. That there was no point to put stress on you while I was away. But then of course you had to go get yourself a new boyfriend.”

“Oh I’m so sorry I didn’t just continue to let the break up ruin my life. I’m sorry I found someone who actually wanted me.”

“I want you more than I want to breathe.  I don't know what else I need to do to get that into your head.”

“There’s nothing you can-” Harry cut you off. His hands tugging you hard against him, his lips crashing into yours. His hands slid down your back and gently squeezed your ass. You didn't even pretend to not enjoy it and soon you were matching his energy. Your arms tangling up around his neck. He picked you up and sat you on the counter by the sink, his body between your legs. His tongue ran down your neck and your head tilted back in response. He continued down, pressing gentle kisses along the soft skin on your chest and he laughed softly. “What?” you asked partially annoyed and partially willing him to continue.

“I just wish this dress was easier to get off..” He kissed you again, biting your bottom lip and tugging before slipping his tongue into your mouth where it tangled with yours. The taste of Harry was overwhelming and what you had been missing more than anything. After another minute Harry pulled away, gasping for air. Your head leaning against his shoulder while catching your breath. He hugged your body tightly and your arms snaked around his ribs where you squeezed hard, hoping he would never let go. The two of you sat like that for a few minutes before Harry reluctantly pulled away. You looked at him and he looked back and smiled. 

“What’s that look for?”

“You mean my smile?”

“Yeah.”

“I’m just happy I have you back. I feel like I can breathe normally again, I-”

You sighed and looked down. “Where do we go from here Harry? What happens next?”

“You break up with Hemmings.” “I can’t do that.”

“Why the fuck not?”

“Because...it-it wouldn’t be fair to him.”

“And it’s fair for me to just sit back and let you walk away again, knowing how we both feel?”

“You pushed me away the first time Harry. Lets not forget who's fault that was.”

He shook his head. “I know. I know it was my fault, which is why I won't back down now. I don't care if it hurts him. I need you. Look I’ll give you till the end of the night.”

“Or what? You’ll tell him? That will hurt me too Harry you know that right?”

“Or I’ll leave. And you will never see me again.” Harry turned and walked out without looking back at you and your heart dropped as you were faced with the hardest decision you may have ever needed to make.

----

Part 2 

Hope you all like it! xoxo

[aerialsquid]

How to Bury a Gentile

I wrote a short vaguely historical vaguely spooky ghost story about Jews and burial rites and I have to justify it existing so here it is.

“Are you the leader of the Jews?”

There was no good that ever came from that question. Rabbi Jacob stood in the doorway, one hand on the knob and the other on the frame, ready to yank it closed at a moment’s notice.

“Well, not all of the Jews.”

The man at the door made a frustrated little grunt. He was clad almost completely in dark grey clothing that seemed to fade into the shadows of the darkened street behind him. The collar of his coat was pulled up so high that it was impossible to make out more than a pair of sharp grey eyes beneath the brim of his hat, and the cloak he wore over the top of it concealed most of his body. There could be any number of guns, knives, or angry mobs hidden under there.

“But the ones in this town, yes? You are their priest, you lead prayers and weddings and so on?” the man said impatiently.

“Rabbi. Yes. I’m the rabbi, that’s correct.” Jacob said, stiffening his posture and assuming the most neutral expression he could manage. Being completely ignorant didn't exclude someone from being completely dangerous--if anything, that heightened the risk. "What can I do for you?"

“Rabbi,” the man repeated, as if to seal it into his memory properly. One gloved hand squeezed the pommel of his walking stick. “And you preside over the funerals of your people, and perform the rites to send them to the next world?”

“Yyyyyes?” Jacob shifted his weight to his back foot, poised to slam the door in his face. This sounded unpleasantly like an opening for a death threat.

“To any of them, regardless of the sins they carried in life?” An eagerness entered the man’s voice.

“Of course. Though sin as a Jewish concept differs from the Christian…mm. Yes, of course.” The scholars of old might have debated the nature of the evil in men’s souls until the crack of dawn but Jacob had no intention of doing so at half-past midnight with a complete stranger.

The shadowed man took a half step forward and Jacob leaned back to maintain the distance between him. “What about a gentile?” the man pressed. "Would you tend to his corpse too?"

“Huh?”

“There is a man needing to be buried tonight who requires absolution. He is not a Jew, but a Jew’s prayers may be close enough for what is needed.”

“Um. It’s not usually a request I get.” Jacob tried to keep his voice calm and soothing. There was some kind of entrapment lingering in the conversation, he just knew it. That or a giant box of crazy that had managed to dress itself stylishly. Gentiles asking Jews intrusive but urgent questions never turned out well for their target--a day-long case of irritation was the best outcome the target could hope for.

The man’s hands pressed together as he completed the full step forward, making Jacob back up into the doorframe. Desperation was in his tone and Jacob was forced back over the threshold just to stay out of his grip “All I need is someone to accompany me to the cemetery to consecrate the body and pray for its soul. Barely an hour of your time. I cannot pay you with anything but my gratitude, but you will have it eternally.”

“And you came to me?”

The man sighed. Even the top hat seemed to slouch slightly as his body slumped. “I have asked every holy man in the city, Catholic and Protestant alike, and they have refused to come to the cemetery," he bemoaned. "The last one told me to visit you. Likely a ploy to make me leave faster, but you are all I have left.”

“What did this man do, that so many people refused him? Who was he?”

The man at the door hesitated. The sharp eyes vanished as his eyelids slid down, and then appeared a few moments later.

“Must you ask?” he said quietly. “Is it not enough that it is a corpse which can do no man harm any longer, and you will lose nothing but a half-night of sleep?”

The inside of Jacob’s head was ringing with warning bells like the frantic clanging of gongs announcing a fire. He swallowed and tried to ignore them.

“You say he wasn’t Jewish?”

“He was not…much of anything. He felt God had no interest in him, and returned a lack of interest in kind. Perhaps if he had been more attentive he wouldn’t lie in a pauper’s grave…or perhaps he would have not changed a whit.” The man’s voice was bitter and the sharp eyes briefly looked away from Jacob, to Jacob’s deep relief.

“Who was this man, to you?” he asked.

“Close. I would prefer to say no more. Please, rabbi. It must be done, and it must be tonight.”

Seminary did not prepare me for this, Jacob thought, and then thought again. There is absolutely something in the Talmud about this and I’ve just forgotten it, because I’m an idiot and I’m half asleep and there is a goy on my doorstep asking me to go out to the cemetery with him at midnight to bury a man whose name he won’t tell me.

“Look, I’ll need someone to help dig the grave.”

“Of course."

“And a coffin. A plain pine box. And I’ll need to get my supplies from the--”

“But you’ll do it?” said the man excitedly, standing up even taller. “And do it tonight, before the cock crows?”

Jacob held up his hands to keep the man from getting even further into his personal space. “Fine. Yes. Give me half an hour and a lazy rooster.”

The cloak almost seem to inflate as the man gasped for joy. He grabbed Jacob’s hands and shook both with enthusiasm, sending Jacob stumbling. “Thank God for you, my good rabbit! Whatever God there is, thank God for you!”

The man ran off into the shadowed streets and was out of sight almost immediately.

Jacob’s hands slowly fell back to his side as he mumbled, “Rabbi,” to the darkness.

My wife is going to kill me if whatever’s at the cemetery doesn’t.

Twenty six minutes later, going by his watch, Jacob showed up at the Jewish cemetery that back-ended the only synagogue in town. It was guarded by high brick walls that made it impossible to see inside, but when Jacob went to put his key into the wrought iron gates he found them already unlocked.

Only a few other people had the key, and he briefly prayed that it was one of them who’d opened it. Then he prayed again, a more general ‘please keep me from being murdered in my own cemetery’ plea as he passed through the gates. One hand patted his pocket, feeling the edges of the folded knife he’d brought along just in case matters went nasty.

In the very corner of the cemetery a lantern burned beside an open grave, a long wooden box, and three figures with two shovels. As he approached he recognized Maud, the gravedigger’s wife and her two eldest children.

The city’s Jews and Christians kept separate cemeteries but shovels didn’t need any particular religious affiliation and neither did the hands who were paid to hold them. Maud’s husband served the dead of all faiths as long as they needed a few feet of dirt to rest their heads in.

“You’re out late,” Jacob said, casual, like they'd met at the grocer's instead of the graveyard.

Maud shrugged. She was thin with unkempt, slightly greasy hair that fell around her face in soft waves and a dress that had no functions besides the practical. Jacob knew her to be much like her husband – not bereft of compassion, but very straightforward when it came to the rites of death. It happened. The mourners mourned, but someone had to dig the holes and move the coffins, and tears only hindered the process. “And what are you, out for an evening constitutional among the headstones?”

“Let me guess, a man in grey showed up on your doorstep and asked you to come out here in the middle of the night with minimal justification but great urgency."

Maud laughed bitterly. “The same.”

“Where’s your husband?”

“Visiting family. Had to bring them instead.” She gestured to the two young people with her, one a stringy and acne-ridden lad of thirteen and one a sixteen year old young woman who was growing into having her father’s thick arms. Both looked profoundly uncomfortable with the situation.

“And he’d put up a storming fuss if a mysterious stranger asked him to dig a grave at half past nonsense at night. Me, I know better.” Maud put a finger next to her nose and tapped it. “There’s something strange going on about this. Otherworldly. Not to be trifled with.”

“Do you have any idea who this man is?”

“Not a clue. Wouldn’t give me a name, even.”

Jacob gestured to the open grave. “Who are we burying here, Cain? A murder victim?”

Maud shrugged, followed by shrugs from her two children. “Whatever he is and whoever wants him in the ground, I’m of no mind to tell him no. He’s too determined for someone who’d take it for a good answer.”

They waited in the stillness, listening to crickets softly chirp in the bushes lining the graveyard. Suddenly Jacob could see movement in the fog, then the billowing of a grey cloak, and then the shape of a man dragging something behind him on a pull cart.

Sticking out over the rim of the cart was a large, curved piece of  rock that Jacob recognized as the rough draft of a gravestone. There was a crack down one side of the stone, indicating it had likely been tossed aside as defective before it could be engraved. Beside it was a long bundle wrapped in a dirty sheet.

The four at the grave steeled their nerves in the way that best suited their spiritual preferences as the man in grey approached.

“That’s our man, is it?” Jacob asked, pointing at the bundle. The man in grey nodded.

“Do what you need to tend to him, rabbi. But do it quickly.”

Jacob uncovered the man and winced at the smell. The man had obviously been dead for at least a day, and hadn’t died in any particular state of valor. There were ligature marks around his neck, which tilted at an uncomfortable angle. That plus the bulging of his eyes and the shape of his face meant he’d died of strangulation—a slow death on the gallows, with no kind executioner ensuring that he fell fast and far enough to snap his neck at the bottom. He’d also been stripped down to his underclothes by whoever’d taken him down off the rope, and those garments that remained were…messy.

“Lay him out flat,” Jacob said. “We’ll need to get his clothes off first.”

The man winced. “Must you? He’s endured enough humiliation.”

“Do you want him purified or not? He’s covered in his own…ugh. Covered in a number of things.”

Maud took out a long pocket knife and began cutting the undergarments off the corpse, nose wrinkling. “Hate hanged corpses,” she muttered. “Wish they’d just behead them, it’d look neater and go faster.”

“But then you’ve got the body in two pieces,” said the son.

His sister rebutted, “You could tie it back on afterwards under the shirt.” The pair descended into a discussion of ideal execution methods that Jacob tried to block out with sheer willpower.

As a distraction, he studied the dead man's face. Besides the strangulation the man wasn’t unhandsome. Jacob would put him at an elegantly-aging 45 at the oldest, with stylishly cut ruddy hair and a strong jaw. It wasn't the kind of man you'd expect to find on the gallows.

“I’m going to need a name,” Jacob said, looking to the man in grey.

The man in grey hesitated, staring down at the corpse.

“James,” he said finally.

“That’s the truth, right?" Jacob pressed, in the tone he used on children who were too young to lie effectively.  “It’s actually James?”

“Yes, actually James,” the man snapped.

“James…son of…?”

“Haven’t a clue.” The sharp eyes stared daggers into Jacob’s face. Jacob sighed and went with the one sure bet he had for ancestry.

“…James ben Adam, I ask forgiveness for you, for your family and friends, and for

all of Israel, and I ask forgiveness from you for any mistakes or indiscretions I may unintentionally commit during this service.”

“He’s dead,” the man in grey interjected. “Don’t waste time asking him how he feels, just prepare him.”

“It’s part of the ritual. Besides, I hardly want him coming back tomorrow to complain.”

Jacob ran quickly through the rest of the prayers in Hebrew– the prayer for forgiveness from the corpse, the prayer for those preparing it, the prayer for compassion for the dead. The man in grey was silent. Maud and her children answered with a hasty ‘amen’ after each paragraph, even though they had no real idea what he was saying. Their religious policy seemed to be ‘whatever gets the job done’.

Jacob sighed. “All right, let’s get to the business.”

Maud and her children huddled by the corpse as Jacob poured water over it and recited the familiar words. He is pure, he is pure, he is pure. Amen, amen.

Between pourings the four rubbed the filth from the man’s skin. There were bruises on the man’s body, and scars ranging from years old to less than a month. As he cleaned under the fingernails Jacob noticed how soft his hands were, as if he’d lived in wealth and luxury until recently.

Tahara was usually the domain of the synagogue’s chevra kadisha, the funeral society, not something one rabbi did on his own. Jacob hoped that whoever was supervising the legalities of the affair would accept one rabbi and four multi-gender gentiles as a valid substitute for meeting adult male Jewish quorum.

Jacob looked up at the grey-clothed man, who’d taken a seat on a nearby headstone, cane resting beneath his folded hands. “I don’t suppose you’d be willing to help?”

The man shook his head. “Willing, yes. Able, no.”

“Why?”

The man angled his head to the side, voice going soft and hoarse. “There are a lot of things I cannot say. If I did, it would not…be what was necessary.”

“And what is necessary?”

“That he be buried tonight before the cock crowed, with full funeral and rites, by a man of faith, without promise of wealth or other reward for the deed,” the man rattled off as if by rote.

“You say that like it’s in a contract of some kind.”

“It is legally binding, in its own way. Now please, enough questions, we’ve not much time.” The man looked up nervously to the moon.

“Fine. Can you at least go fetch us more water?” Jacob asked the man in grey. Once he’d left with the jug, Maud huddled down next to him.

“Think I know who this dead man is,” Maud whispered.  “Heard about him over the local gossip from my cousin. He was a criminal. Nasty one, a thief and a murderer. Mutilated bodies. They say he even made a deal with Lucifer himself. Must be why this one sought you out.”

“You know we don’t believe in your Devil, right?” Jacob muttered, almost by reflex. “Let alone have any positive relationship with him.”

“The people what hanged him this week in the next town over believed in the Devil. What else would be so bad the church wants nothing to do with him And why else would he need consecrating so badly and so quickly, if he’s not got something he needs absolving form?”

Jacob watched the fog for the return of the man in grey. “And this gentleman who’s such an advocate for him, you think he’s…”

Maud followed his gaze. “If I believed in such things, I’d think it,” she whispered.

“But you don’t?”

Maud gave him a sharp look. “You think a gravedigger’s wife can afford to believe in ghosts? It’s bad for business, Rabbi.”

“Might not be, if you convince them a ghost prefers an expensive grave. Ah, hush, he’s coming back.”

Rather than put it into Jacob’s hands, the man in grey set the jug on the ground and stepped back from it. Jacob continued to pray as they wiped the corpse down and combed through his ruddy hair, reciting so quickly that Jacob ran out of prayer before he was done and ventured off into additional prayers that couldn’t hurt to add on top of the pile.

Jacob reached for the bag next to him and pulled out piles of white linen. “Now we dress him.”

“You just finished undressing him! He’s a corpse and he’s going to rot, does it matter?”

Jacob gritted his teeth, half-rising to his feet. “It. Is. The. Tradition,” he hissed.

The man in grey put his hands up in surrender. “All right, all right. Do what you will. Just do it quickly.”

Jacob wrapped the corpse gently in the burial clothes – pants, shirt, belt. As he laid the white cloth in place over the face he felt the tension growing in the air, an odd pressure he’d previously chalked to humidity.

You can’t buy and sell a soul, he told himself. All souls belong to God. That’s how it works.

On the other hand, God might rent them out on commission. If he made it out of this intact he really needed to see what the Talmud said on the subject.

The man in grey was fidgeting. He kept looking to the moon, then to the watch in his hand, and then worrying the cane between his legs until it dug a long furrow in the dirt in front of him.

“Get his feet, I’ll take his shoulders.”

“Yes, mum.”

Maud and her daughter dropped the corpse into its plain pine box.

“Nails,” Maud said over her shoulder.

“Here, mum.”

The gravedigger’s son brought the hammer down hard. The resounding noise of the pine box being nailed shut jangled Jacob’s nerves after all the hushed prayers. The youth gave the nails a few extra swings each, just to make sure that nothing inside the box decided to come back out again.

The four of them lifted the coffin and crab-walked with it until it was vaguely over the grave, then dropped it in.  The man in grey leapt to his feet. “Now. Funeral. Perform it, and quickly,” he insisted.

Jacob steadied himself at the edge of the grave. Maud and the children took up the politely sympathetic stances identical to the one the gravedigger did when waiting for the funeral to finally end so he could get to his business.

Jacob was used to these. He was just used to them during the daytime, with a row of mourners lined up neatly with their ritually torn ribbons pinned to their chests as a substitute for rending their actual clothing. Even the most loathsome of people had someone to show up in order to keep up social status. A funeral for a man with no mourners to comfort was novel.

He looked at the man in grey, who was standing well back with his arms folded. “I will say, I’ve never done a eulogy for someone I don’t know the identity of, so I can’t promise anything quality.”

“I don’t care. Do it.”

Jacob took a long, deep breath, and let it out slowly. He thought back to other eulogies, pulling together scraps of them and tying it nicely with a scriptural bow.

“We are all cracked vessels,” he pronounced in his Official Rabbi Voice. “But we are all vessels made in the image of God, and even in death that vessel is subject to respect. As the Torah says, even if a man commits a sin so severe that he is sentenced to death, his body shall not be left out overnight, but buried that same day, for a hanging corpse is a blasphemy to God and a defilement of the land.”

The man in grey made a small noise, like a half-stifled bitter laugh. Jacob forced his voice to be steady.

“And from this we see that there is no crime that separates man from God. He is not spared from judgment, but he is still in God’s image, and to disrespect his right to burial is to disrespect God himself. May those that James ben Adam has harmed in life forgive him and gain healing, and those whose lives he has enriched remember him. Amen.”

And may this not come back to bite me in the arse, whatever strange theological zone I may be playing in.

“Amen,” echoed Maud and her children. Maud’s daughter shivered, a strange act when the night’s heat seemed to be growing ever more oppressive on Jacob’s shoulders.

The words of Kel Maleh Rachamim felt heavy on Jacob’s tongue. Towards the end he felt himself slurring vowels and having to stop and go back to repeat them properly. His throat burned, and he took a swig from the dirty water jug just to soothe it, but found it brought no relief.

“Please,” whispered the man in grey.  “Now! Bury him now!”

Jacob could feel dawn coming somehow, though he hadn’t checked his watch since they began. He could feel it in his bones as the heat surged through him. Maud and her children went for the shovels.

Jacob kept the prayer flowing, rocking slightly on the balls of his feet. “Yitgadal v’yitkadash sh’mey rabah!” he muttered as dirt flew into the grave. The words of the Mourner’s Kaddish were some of the most familiar he knew. They were said every Shabbat morning, and the same words were repeated for their own reasons several other times during the service. In the dense air they seemed to be the only thing keeping his throat clear, when he would otherwise suffocate.

The two children shoveled as fast as they could but they were slumping under some unseen pressure. The girl winced, gritting her teeth, and tears were gathering at the corners of the boy’s eyes.

The man in grey jumped to stand beside them, waving his hands. “Faster!” he shouted.

“You heard him, faster!” shouted Maud.

“Mum, my arms hurt, let me rest!”

“Keep going!” the man in grey snarled. “We haven’t much time!”

When the shovel fell from the young man’s limp hands Jacob grabbed it and began piling in the dirt furiously. He felt claws dig into his arms draining the strength from his muscles. The man in grey urged them onward, with pleas and with threats, and Jacob tried to ignore both. There were whispers invading his mind and he drove them out by chanting at double speed. Beside him Maud was saying the prayers of her own people and her daughter was fumbling along behind her in repeating them. It made a rhythm to shovel to, up and down and deep into the dirt again, until the coffin was covered completely. Maud’s son heaved the crudely-carved rock from the cart and nearly dropped it on his own foot as he planted it at the head of the grave.

“Amen!” the young man shouted.

“Amen, amen, for god’s sake, are we done?” asked the daughter, thick arms limp at her sides.

“We’re done!” said Jacob, barely getting the words out.

“You’re not!” shouted the man in grey. He had his arms around himself, head bowed as if under unseen blows. “It’s not finished!”

Jacob ground his teeth, his muscles screaming in pain. “There’s nothing left!” The gravedigger’s son was on his knees trembling.

“You must have forgotten something!” yelled the man in gray in a shaking voice, huddled inside his cloak.

“I didn’t—"

Oh.

Of course.

Jacob pulled the knife from his pocket. The act of opening it felt like moving a boulder. He took his shirt cuff and with great effort jabbed the knife into it, dragging it down until he reached the hem.. The sound of the cloth tearing reverberated through the graveyard and magnified a hundred times, until it was shaking Jacob down to his bones.

Like rain breaking on a broiling July day, the tension snapped and vanished. The pained sniffles of the gravedigger’s son faded into silence. Across the graveyard, the crickets started up their song once more.

The man in grey uncurled slowly. “What did you…do?” he asked, looking to Jacob in awe.

“Mourners,” Jacob gasped, the knife falling from his hands. “There were no mourners. Had to—you tear your clothing, when you’re mourning. Funeral’s not just for the dead. It’s for the living. It needed mourners.”

A feeling of cool mist enveloped Jacob as the man in grey launched at him for a deep embrace. It was the first time the man had touched any of them since the night began. “Thank you,” the man said, voice nearly a sob.

Jacob patted his back. The man felt like a damp blanket cloying to his skin. “Shalom Aleichem, James.”

“Whatever that means, the same to you, Rabbi.” The weight of the man vanished from his arms, followed by the man himself. The first rays of morning light shone down upon wet grass dented by absent boots.

Maud’s daughter slumped against her mother. Maud’s arm reached around her and gave her a hard squeeze, a weak smile coming to her face.

“Do we get to believe in ghosts now, Mum?”

“No, dear. It’s bad for business.”

[advernia]

fic: the many tea parties of charon

— deck out the flowers and mourning veils, the guests of honor are in attendance. - pre-game: of a child and his trusty guide.

1: contains heavy references to edgar's backstory, so be warned if you haven't read his route yet! please tread lightly. 2: terribly late, but this was written for @unappreciatedotomelove’s day 19 angst prompt, death.

Baron Paulos Arca was mute.

The morning papers narrate the tale of a man unable to scream for help as he fell to his demise. Scratches on grass and soil, torn pieces of cloth and drops of blood scattered on the twisting path leading to the forest's cliff may suggest that he might have been running away from beasts until he had a misstep that led to his untimely fate. Why the man was in the Forbidden Forest without permission or an escort was still being investigated, but the man was already well-known for losing himself to the company of plants and trees over tea parties and soirees, so perhaps that narrowed down possibilities.

A most unfortunate accident, his uncle reads before pressing the rim of a teacup to his lips.

It almost sounds humorous; the way the word accident rolls off his uncle's tongue. He pokes at his breakfast, watches the tines of his fork sink into the meal on his plate.

Metal through meat.

Sharp tearing soft.

Trident piercing flesh.

Very unfortunate, he says dryly in reply, feeling the twist in his stomach.

Marchioness Marie Marithe Lacelle was weak.

He's been taught manners, and one of the basics say that is it most rude to stare. Young boys like himself shouldn’t dare ogle, especially at girls and ladies and at their bare skin. Propriety is important. And if he must stare, there is an unspoken rule among gentlemen that whispers subtlety is key.

So he and his uncle don't stay too long, don't find a need to linger any longer around a casket that held a woman so dainty, even her gloved fingers gave off the impression of fragility. On these occasions his uncle spent more time exchanging pleasantries anyway, and while waiting he would just stand away and observe his surroundings. Today wouldn't be any different. 

On one side of the refreshment table, he studies the champagne flutes that form beautiful rows. Despite the bright crystal lights, the liquid inside each glass remains a hostile purple; dark from the top and eerie come the bottom. Almost like vials of poison, he figures.

The smile on his lips turns awry.

Merchant Duriel Atlas was sickly.

In the modestly decorated hall he's seated somewhere around the middle aisle next to a relative, a child who may or may not be a member of the main family. His uncle is seated somewhere around the front row, becoming one of the many gentlemen offering an ear to an elderly man with a face that's positively ghastly. The deceased's father, he guesses.

Hey, the child seated beside him suddenly speaks. It's only then that he looks at her properly, at the girl beside him who was clutching a stuffed bear close to her chest.

How do you know my papa? she asks, raising her head to stare at him. The edges of her eyes are bright red but their centers remain gray, the kind of shade that's a tad dull but with an edge to it that's oddly sharp; like the deceiving end of a rusty needle pricking the most sensitive spots of skin.

Her scrutiny pokes uncomfortably at his throat, and for once isn't quite sure what to say.

Professor Sarietta Pierre was careless.

It's amazing, really - in one room where all sorts of individuals gather there are those who truly mourn, but in that same room there are those that hide behind their feathered fans and quiet corners, believing that keeping their voices in hushed whispers could hide remarks such as:

A professor of magic put to rest by her own spell - what an end!

She was bound to make a mistake sooner or later with that ego of hers.

Serves her right, I'd say. That woman was far too arrogant.

And to think that she bragged about how her prudent magic wielding was second to none...

And so on and so forth - he listens to wails in one ear and criticism on the other until his uncle comes to stand beside him, gaze set on the deceased's portrait.

They sure enjoy wagging their tongues before using their heads, don't they? he says, tone casual.

Government official Ivor Xies Grellol was bedridden.

It was bound to happen... but oh, I wish it didn't happen so soon, too soon, the now-widow cries with her puffy eyes and scratchy voice. She angles her head away from them to stare at the body fit perfectly in the coffin, clothed in his very best and surrounded by fresh flowers. I... I... just wish we had more time.

... I'm sure he felt the same way, his uncle is a picture of sincerity with a gentle tone and perfect bow, my deepest condolences for your loss, Lady Grellol.

Tears start streaming down her eyes again, so as an act of courtesy he takes out the handkerchief in his pocket and gingerly offers it for her to use. She blinks for a moment before accepting the cloth, breathing in deeply and dabbing quickly at her damp cheeks. 

Such a kind child you are, the woman says in between sobs.

He'd swallow a lump down his throat and say his thanks, but he finds himself too distracted by the powdery smudges of red now staining his handkerchief.

Arles and Ceres Clemence were bastards.

There's no caskets, formalities, procession. No flowers, people, crying, portraits - just a deep well of soil, two large sacks, torn shrouds of cloth, a shovel.

Two people - a child and an adult - looking down at the well and its contents.

The sound of raindrops hitting an umbrella's canopy, going tap tap tap tap tap every second.

A voice cutting through the rain, soft yet with a fury so cold.

Blame society for deciding that your greatest sin was to be born, Claudius Bright hissed.

Claudius Bright was limping.

A result of an accident or the curse of aging? Either way it didn't change the fact that today, he was assisting his uncle in the act of walking for one of his legs seemed to be struggling. Together they cross the halls and go past the door, down the path and inside the carriage that was waiting for them.

It hardly suited the Jack of Hearts - an image of susceptibility, a flaw. Vulnerable, oh-so vulnerable to the eyes. A target with an obvious weak spot, easy prey that didn't require much effort to take down. A strike to the knees or a well-aimed hit to the thigh, a poke of poison or the bind of magic, the pierce of a bullet and his uncle might as well -

"... Perhaps," he says when he enters the carriage and sits himself across from his uncle, "we should get you a cane. Trying to walk on your own adds to the strain of your sore leg, and we can't have that if you want your leg to heal properly."

"That does sound like a good idea," Claudius hums, but then he checks his wristwatch. "... Ah, but that will have to wait. We can't afford to be late, now can we?"

A funny concern when they've never been late for an appointment in their life.

With the subject temporarily put on hold though, his eyes keep drifting back to his uncle's left leg; to the bandages secured around the kneecap. Weakness, the sight seemed to whisper strongly. Balance disrupted, equilibrium lost, weight of the body favoring one side over the other -

Hands balling into fists and teeth digging into the inside of his cheek, he urges himself to look out the window instead.

The sky above them is nearly dressed in murky grays and heavy blacks.

Perfect weather for another funeral, Edgar Bright whispers to himself.

3: charon from greek mythology is the ferryman of the rivers styx + acheron, the rivers said to separate the world of the living and the dead. he serves under the god of the underworld, hades. intended context puts edgar as charon (he who follows) & claudius as hades (he who commands), but can also work in a reverse manner with claudius passing off as charon - he 'leads' souls to edgar and his nephew unwittingly becomes hades; he who passes 'judgement' on said souls. 4: supposedly this went with a desensitized edgar in claudius' perspective, but somehow turned out to be novice!assassin edgar dealing with his conscience + claudius rubbing salt on the wound by bringing edgar to the funerals of the people he ordered his nephew to kill. it does give a different spin on the theme of death, so i guess it works.

[chilling-seavey]

Passchendaele - XIX

A/N My posting schedule landed right on real life Zach’s birthday so happy birthday to him...you’ll always be sixteen in my eyes...

T/W Graphic descriptions of war violence and weaponry, blood, and death

The men were sent over the top again the following day around mid afternoon, Daniel with a new ranking patch crudely sewn onto his left sleeve. He definitely didn’t have the careful hand that his sister did when it came to a needle and thread. Despite his pride of the higher rank, Daniel still felt uneasy, not quite his usual self, and he found himself smoking another cigarette from Christian’s old pack after supper. Thankfully he slept that night, although not very long, but it gave him just enough energy to head into their next battle.

His rifle was freshly cleaned, wiped down of the mud and grime from their previous fight, enough so he could almost see his reflection in the metal. The rain still fell, lighter now but still intense and it only made the flooding worse, the water now up to their knees in the trenches. The battlefield itself was no different, the shell craters still filled with water and the mud soft enough to suck men under.

Corbyn had to lead the group so they lost sight of him quickly among the smoke, but Zach and Daniel stayed together, picking off the enemy one by one. They were certainly more efficient when they worked together, huddling behind the line of barbed wire and firing two on one.

They pushed forward together, Daniel taking lead as Zach followed behind him, covering each other when one would crouch to reload. The mud was terrible and they struggled to stand steadily as they walked, boots slipping thickly with each step. They were covered in it too, caked in mud up to their heads and the heavy rain did little to wash it away. Bullets zipped past them, landing stiffly into the ground as they managed to dodge them, eventually resorting to crawling along the ground to keep low. As each shell hit, they threw their arms over their heads to protect themselves the best they could.

They made it pretty far across the field, taking cover behind a half drowned German artillery that was still a good way away from their front lines, most likely from a prior battle weeks before. Zach pushed himself over to sit back against the cold metal, adjusting his helmet breathlessly as he started to reload his rifle. Daniel peered around the side of the half-destroyed gun, eyes scanning the German lines in the distance, raised slightly above them. He could see the shadows of the town of Passchendaele in the distance. The rest of their battalion fought around them, shells from both sides shooting mud into the air, a few not even going off as they lodged themselves in the mud.

Daniel wiped the rain from his face as he turned back to sit beside Zach.

“See anything?” Zach asked loudly over the hard gunfire around them.

“I can see the town.” Daniel replied, digging his finger in the magazine of his rifle to try and clear the mud that was starting to lodge itself in the crevices again. “We’re bloody close.”

“Christ…are we taking it today?” Zach gaped.

“We can’t take the entire German front just the two of us.” Daniel retorted.

Zach sighed and shifted onto his knees to peek through a gap in the metal. A stray bullet hit right next to him and he threw himself back, nearly landing on Daniel in the process.

“What do we do now?” Zach asked quickly as Daniel pushed him off.

Daniel looked back around the edge, the sun starting to set so the dimming grey skies only made it harder to see. He sat back again, pressing a hand to his head in thought, trying to think of a logical next step as a Sergeant but also keep his mind out of it as to not really process the death that was surrounding them.

“Seavey?” Zach tried again.

“I-I don’t know!” Daniel said loudly, angry at himself for not knowing and for constantly letting his emotions get in the way. He got to his feet, staying ducked behind the artillery they were hiding behind, trying to pull the bolt on his rifle. It was stuck.

Zach watched him fight with it for a moment, Daniel grumbling angrily under his breath, finally opening the gun and pulling out the unused bullets with shaking hands.

“Piece of fucking shit.” Daniel tucked the bullets into his pouch again and unclipped the bayonet before tossing the rifle into the mud.

“What are you-” Zach started.

“You better cover me.” Daniel ordered sharply, pulling Zach to his feet. He could feel the adrenaline coursing through his veins, his anger only fueling it more. “We’re just killing as many as we can. It’s all we can do right now.” Daniel ordered.

“You can’t fight without a rifle!” Zach protested.

“That’s why you’re covering me, Herron!” Daniel snapped, grabbing the boy by the front of his uniform and pushed him out from behind their hiding spot. They both ducked quickly as a rain of bullets flew at them, hitting the mud messily with their heads down. They crawled quickly into one of the craters in the mud, keeping out of the water that would surly suck them under.

“This is your stupidest idea yet!” Zach screamed.

“Just start firing!” Daniel yelled.

Zach took position and watched as Daniel jumped back out right into the middle of the battle. It was like watching a hero, Daniel fueled by his emotions enough to use only his bayonet against a full army of loaded men. Zach made sure to carefully back him, eyes scanning the area and knocking off anyone who even looked at him for too long.

Daniel seemed to perfect the art of disassociating, digging the blade into man after man, watching them fall around him without a second thought. One put up a good fight as Daniel slung his arm around his neck from behind and dragged him to the ground, the older man easily pushing back. Daniel made it on top of him, straddling him, holding the man’s face down in the mud, his bayonet glinting in the moonlight as he pushed it right between the man’s shoulder blades.

“I need to reload!” Zach screamed across a few yards away, his last bullet finishing off the man that Daniel had pinned to the ground. Daniel came running back, sliding messily into the crater to avoid any gunfire from the German lines, panting hard as he regained his composure, tossing his well used bayonet to the side. Zach reloaded his rifle as quickly as he could, eyeing Daniel who sat next to him, staring his hands that were covered in fresh blood. They didn’t notice the gunfire slowing.

Daniel let his hands fall into the murky water that filled the bottom of the crater, his boots keeping him above the pool as he rinsed the blood off. His hands were shaking with adrenaline, feeling his eyes fill with tears again as realization started to set in. Whose brother or father did he just kill out there with his bare hands?

“Don’t think about it.” Zach said as if reading his mind, clicking the rifle back into place, “That’s what Corbyn always tells me.”

Daniel didn’t reply, sitting back against the side of the crater and closed his eyes for a moment, setting his hands over his face as he took a few deep breaths.

“If it wasn’t them it would have been you.” Zach mumbled.

Daniel paused a moment before dropping his hands. Silence filled the air around them.

“Why is it so quiet?” Daniel whispered, turning around to peek over the side of the crater. The dark landscape was only filled with the sound of the light rain hitting the mud puddles, the torn-up land spanning for miles, empty. Everyone was gone back to the trenches, only the dead piling across the field.

“Bloody hell.” Zach said.

“Do you remember which way our front lines are?” Daniel asked quietly.

They two of them scanned the area, the darkness and emptiness of the fields making every direction look the exact same.

“No.” Zach mumbled. “What do we do?”

“Wait until sunrise.” Daniel sighed, sitting back again with a tired sigh.

“They’re going to think we’re dead.” Zach protested.

“We will be if we go wandering aimlessly into the German trenches.” Daniel retorted.

Zach nodded in agreement, resting his rifle against the side of the crater. Daniel took his entrenching tool from his belt and clipped it together, starting to dig a bit of a ledge for them to sit on. The crater they were in wasn’t very big, only about two meters in diameter, and the distance from the top of the water to the edge gave them a good three feet. They had to keep their heads down just in case they could be spotted by the German lines and their voices soft to not be heard.

When each of them had a small ledge to sit on in the mud, Daniel set his shovel in the side of the dirt and leaned back.

“I’m hungry.” Zach broke their silence first.

Daniel reached into his jacket and pulled out a small ration of crackers, passing half of them over to the boy. Zach thanked him with a wide smile. Daniel turned onto his side; arms crossed over his chest as he stared into space again.

“What’s the first thing you want to do when you get home?” Zach asked through a mouthful of cracker.

“I don’t know.” Daniel mumbled.

“You can’t honestly tell me you’ve never thought about it.” Zach retorted.

“I wanted to have a nice supper with my family.” Daniel whispered. “But I can’t do that anymore so…”

Zach broke the cracker in half that he had in his hand and he nibbled on the corner, “You still can.”

“Not without Christian.” Daniel bit his lip.

Zach stared at his back that was facing him, “I don’t think Christian would want you to be sad. Would he?”

“Probably not.” Daniel sighed. He turned over to face Zach, curling an arm under his head as he looked at him, “It just hurts terribly.”

Zach nodded, finishing the last of his crackers and he dusted the crumbs off his hands on his trousers, “I don’t doubt that.”

The two fell into silence a moment, Daniel digging his finger into the mud haphazardly, the rain falling softly around them in a list mist.

“I didn’t tell Elizabeth.” Daniel finally whispered. “About Christian.”

“Why not?”

Daniel sighed lightly, “I didn’t want her to worry about me. Didn’t want her to worry about when I was gonna end up like him.”

“You’re going to go home to her, you know?” Zach insisted.

Daniel shrugged, keeping his eyes down, dragging his finger through the mud.

“I swear it.” Zach added. “You’re going to get out of his hell and be home with your girl.”

“You are too.” Daniel whispered, glancing up at Zach through the misty rain.

The younger boy shrugged, his legs tucked up to his chest as he picked at the mud himself now between his boots, his lips set in a small pout.

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Daniel frowned, mimicing his shrug.

“I don’t know. I have nothing at home. No purpose. Wouldn’t matter if I died out here.”

“You’re sixteen, Herron. You have your whole life ahead of you.” Daniel sat up a little on his arms, narrowing his eyes with disbelief at what his friend was saying. “We both do.”

“I dunno. Maybe Christian was right...how am I supposed to look at my mother after what we’ve done out here? How am I supposed to tell her I love her every night after killing men in cold blood? What kind of son does that?”

“You can’t blame yourself for that.” Daniel tisked. “It’s the government’s doing.”

“Not for me.” Zach breathed. “I enlisted underage. Voluntarily. I did this to myself.”

“So did I. I enlisted voluntarily too. That fact doesn’t make us horrible people, it just makes us good patriots.”

“I dunno.” Zach leaned his chin on his arms that rested across his knees.

“Your mother isn’t going to love you any less because you were out here fighting. You’re out here fighting for a better future for everyone at home and that’s not something to be taken lightly.”

Zach ran the back of his hand under his nose and sniffled before leaning his head against his arms.

“We’re going to be okay.” Daniel said. Zach nodded lightly.

The nighttime air was brisk, and the mud and rainwater that soaked through their uniforms chilled them, both young men curling into themselves to stay warm. They sat there for a while in the shell crater, silent and forced to stay as still as possible. Daniel checked his watch for the first time in a long time, reading just past midnight and he sighed deeply, resting his head back agaisnt the dirt wall and closed his eyes for a moment.

“Can we keep talking?” Zach asked, his teeth chattering in the spring air as the water and mud they were soaked in was getting cold.

“Yeah.” Daniel turned his head to look the few short feet away to where Zach sat curled up.

“You gonna marry Elizabeth when you get home?” Zach asked, his warm breath coming out in light clouds as his mouth broke into a small cheeky smile.

“I plan to.” Daniel returned his friend’s smile, arms tucked around himself.

“Good. I like her.” Zach said softly.

“I’m glad I have your blessing.” Daniel chuckled.

“You definitely do.” Zach smiled, resting the side of his head against his arms again tiredly, facing him.

“Are you going to come to the wedding?” Daniel asked.

“If she says yes.” Zach teased, earning a kick from Daniel, making him smother his laughter into his sleeve.

“Bastard.” Daniel said through a light laugh.

“She’s gonna say yes.” Zach assured him.

“I don’t need you to tell me that.” Daniel tisked playfully as he shoved him, making the smaller boy nearly topple into the water. Their startled gasps filled the nighttime air as they tried not to make a sound, Daniel grabbing onto Zach just in time so he didn’t make a splash in the water.

Daniel sat back as they got settled again, sharing silent laughter stemmed from their exhaustion. Zach shifted against the mud to find a more comfortable position, curling up the best he could against the ground and Daniel did the same, both trying to get some rest before daybreak.

They didn’t even get a moment to sleep before a loud explosion in the distance startled them both back up.

“What was that?” Zach asked, panic apparent in his voice. Daniel peered over the edge of the crater, Zach grabbing his rifle in the process.

Daniel held his hand up to tell him to hold back, watching another explosion go off in the near distance, mud and rain water splashing up with it. Two dark forms were walking through the battlefield, matching the pace of each staggered explosion as they slowly got closer.

“They’re bombing the craters.” Daniel breathed, turning to Zach, “Making sure they’re empty.”

“Germans?” Zach clarified. 

“Yeah.”

“What do we do?” Zach asked quickly.

“Shoot them. It will buy us time.” Daniel whispered.

Zach nodded, pulling the bolt on his rifle. It didn’t budge.

The boys looked up at each other with wide eyes and Daniel snatched the gun to try it himself, sure enough, finding it jammed with frozen mud. Another explosion rang through the air and they could feel it shake the ground below them as the two men got closer.

“They have guns, we can’t take them with just the bayonets.” Zach whispered, his voice shaking.

“I know. Stay against the side and whatever happens, don’t make a sound.” Daniel ordered quietly, kicking the rifle into the water to hide it.

They pressed themselves up against the side of the crater, staying as still as they could and simply praying for the best. Zach was trembling and Daniel could see him shaking through the dark, close enough to still make out his terrified and uncertian expression.

Another explosion shook the ground, a few loose pieces spewing into their crater and they could hear the two men walking behind them, their boots squeltching in the mud. Zach held out his hand and Daniel held his hand tightly, Zach’s cold and soiled skin sending chills up Daniel’s arm. The younger boy bit hard into his bottom lip, eyes finding Daniel’s as they sat only two feet apart and shared silent reassurance to each other.

The men’s walking stopped for a moment. Zach pressed his finger to his lips, making Daniel’s eyebrows furrow for a brief moment just before the German grenade was thrown into the crater right in front of them. The fuse was dissapearing quickly and before Daniel could even flinch, Zach was tearing his hand from Daniel’s and throwing himself on top of it.

It all happened so fast, Zach tucking his body around the grenade and hugged his arms over his head, and barely two and a half seconds later, Daniel was alone.

His ears rang with the impact of the explosion, warm blood dripping down his face and soaking his entire uniform in thick splatters mixed in with the freezing cold mud. Daniel didn’t move. He was frozen stiff, his mouth parted with intense shock and hands held out stiffly in front of him as if waiting for something. The blood trickled down his cheek, trailing over his bottom lip before falling in silent drops onto his lap.

The explosions got distant again and only a few short minutes later the battlefield was back into perfect silence. Daniel took a jagged breath, his body starting to shake violently and he reached a hand up to wipe the blood from his face. It was everywhere; smudged over his cheeks and hands and contaminating the muddy water with deep red. The dismembered hand laying across the crater was the tipping point, Daniel’s body heaving him forward and he threw up against the mud as he let out a wracking sob that he smothered into his uniform sleeve. Tears poured down his cheeks, finally letting out all the emotions of the past weeks in one go.

He bent forward over the mud, crying hard into his palm to try and smother the sound as to not give himself away. A glint of silver caught his eye and he reached out to grab Zach’s dogtags that were wedged in the mud a few feet off.

“Oh, God!” Daniel weeped, falling back against the side of the crater, trying the best he could to still keep quiet as he cried uncontrollably, clutching the thin metal tags in his hands. His whole body was shaking and he was shivering with cold, hugging his arms around himself to try and keep warm, his wracking sobs kept silent by his teeth that bit hard into his sleeve.

Zach’s dogtags clinked together quietly in the cool wind, held tightly in Daniel’s blood coated grip as he cried himself to exhausion, sleep finally taking over.

[the-house-of-the-nine]

In Mind of Misery: Manipulation, Part 13

[ And so the journey begins.  Three Separate stories to tell here all happening Simultaneously.  Attacking from three fronts, is this the beginning of the end for The Nine?  Please Like, Share, and Follow us!   We are hoping to get new people coming our way, and could use the love! Thank you everyone!!!!! ]

Cast:

[ L.K ] -  Lazarius Kashebahl, Marseille, Raelyndia Duskhollow

[ P.K ] - Kretus Dark

[ V.D ] - Verzatea Duskflame, Pame Myl’Brin

[ J ] - Jursol, Jimba, Mawa

[ T ] - Talisin aka The Boy

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[ P . K ]   Kretus stared down into the blondes face and inwardly grumbled. But my stew is still hot and I hadn’t even had a bite yet! He masked his irritation with himself. Serves him right. He should have just minded his own business. But then he hated himself for those thoughts. With a sigh, he merely nodded.

“You’re talking about the old Duskflame estate then. If I recall, that is your surname yes? It’s not far from here. One, maybe two hours trek due north...”

He shifted on his feet, his hands slipping into his pockets now.

“I can help you get there, sure.”

He slid his gaze around the fucked up group again. Shoulda just stayed put.

[ L. K ]   "Two. . .hours"  

He mouthed silently and turned around to move back toward Pame.  As he neared the Kaldorei he would softly motion for them to switch.

"She is much lighter, give your back a rest."  

It wasn't that he was going to ask her, more or less tell her.  She had been working herself to near death trying to take care and fight for everyone.  

Rather than force her to endure further, Lazarius would take the weight of the Shaldorei and turn back toward the others.

"You find a way to cut that time in half. . . and I will make it worth your while, how does ten thousand sound?"

Lazarius grunted as he hoisted the one arm elf over his shoulder and supported the man the best he could without injuring him further.

"We can talk on the way, move. . .now."  

He snapped inferring to Verza to get this show on the road.

[ P . K ]   “Ten thousand what? Biscuits? Daggers? Punches to the gullet?”

The tattooed red head moved forward and made a gesture to Lazarius as if to say let me carry the girl.

“Give the woman a rest. I can carry her and then I have a mount we can put two on. That should cut the time down.”

[ V . D ]   At the command of Lazarius, Pame wasted no time in heeding him. There was a selfish reason for it, too, because the thought of a break actually... Appeased the Kaldorei. It made the tension in her shoulders slacken when hoisting the red head into.her arms after Mars had been steadied and lifted by Lazarius. Though she'd bare her teeth in a glower at the suggestion of taking it too easy,

"I have her,"

She denies stubbornly, gritting her teeth after recognizing the harshness of her own tone,

"Egh... Thank you anyways..."

At the snap would the sindorei stare intently toward the Kashe'bahl, the previously tear soaked cheeks now flustered pink with shame attheir hesitation. He was a dick, but he was right. They werent safe, time was ticking.

"Gods sake," Tea groans at Kretus's cheeky remark, bending forth to scoop the little boy into her arms-- a habit she'd picked up with Brinys, and one she'd familiarize the boy with cause she'd be apoiling him henceforth...

Whether they followed or not, Tea starts walking the way Kretus had emerged from... Just to get them started! Even if it was the wrong way.

[ P . K ]   Kretus just shrugged his shoulders and turned to walk north. Right to his hut and after Tea.

“Suit yourself,” he said to Pame.

He looked at Lazarius over his shoulder as he was walking.

“Might want to have a chat with your comrades that now is not the time to be stubborn.”

[ L. K ]   "I can very easily call one of those worms down from the sky and let it pay you a visit if you think her company is so bad.  In case you aren't aware, aside from 'Teacup' you're a stranger to the rest of us, with very little value. . .aside from some stew. . .and a hut. . . You'll have to excuse our apprehension and desire to be someplace safe, secure and also trusted.  No offense."

If Kre didn't think Lazarius could hear him, he was mistaken, they were all elves here, even Jursol was keen of hearing, they all would have caught his remark. As he walked with the Shaldorei over his shoulder he grunted.

"Why don't we try this. . . since we are on the path toward doing something, You already know Verzatea. . . the troll is Jursol of the Zandalari, the Kaldorei is my personal Shade, Pame Myl'Brin and the young girl she is carrying is Raven.  This arm less fellow who is going to be just fine. . ."

Marseille opened his eye, just barely enough to peer at Laz and crack a soft smile.

"This is Marmless. . .I mean Marseille."

He would point ahead with his hand holding the arm of the elf.

"We don't know the kids name, picked him up on the way.  And I am Lazarius Kash'ebahl.  I assume you are Kretus . . she had told me a bit about your escapade during the Magister incident. . . it is a shame we never got to meet after I was returned."

[ V . D ]   Pame snorts noisily at the Marmless comment, biting harshly at her bottom lip to prevent that from bubbling over into a straight up laugh.

But it certainly was amusing, especially now that she was confident Mars stood a fighting chance of surviving. Maybe she'll laugh fully once they're completely out of the woods.

[ R ]   Raven continued to be easy to carry. Indeed, she was lighter than the Shaldorei. Her frame was slathered in drying, or dried black void tainted blood however. At least being completely out, she didn't squirm while being carried.

[ P . K ]   He continues walking, listening to Lazarius introduce them all. He had certainly not meant to keep his words from being heard. The man spoke what was on his mind when it was on his mind. Most of the time.

“You have the right of it. Kretus Dark.”

He wasn’t insulted in the least. He had merely been trying to help. He’d learned over the decades that help, whether offering it or receiving it, was a finicky thing.

“Tea,” he shouted.

“Start going right a bit. You’ll see my campfire.”

He looked at Laz again.

“We can grab a few things quickly and then lay both the comatose woman and Marmless atop Gambit.  Should cut our time if two of you aren’t weighted down with bodies.”

[ L. K ]   "Ma...rseille. . .wretch. . .even without my arm, I will knife y..."  

Laz shook the words from him as he continued to walk.

"Save your strength." he quickly corrected as he continued to limp along with the ancient elf.

"Mister Dark. . . is that your actual name?  I have never met anyone of the House of Dark.  Was that your fathers house?  The Kash'ebahls are a well known rank of nobility, In all of my time within the magistrate I don't ever recall hearing the name."

[ V . D ] With a hesitation in step the sindorei awkwardly wobbles around and starts meandering through the woods whilst wearing a bashful expression.

"I knew that,"

she murmurs beneath her breath, even though her breath was becoming equally shallow with every grueling step. She started to regret slacking in her stamina training.

Though she'd silently push herself to keep moving forward. Otherwise she'd become undeniably slow and fall to the back before slowly giving up.

[ P . K ]   He slid his eyes toward the male elf and forced a smile. A smile that oddly looked like someone Laz knew when she forced smiles.

“My mother was a poor woman. And my father was...”

his jaw clenched and he looked forward, his camp fire in sight now.

“Don’t actually know. Some nobleman who took my mother for a mistress then discarded her.”

[ L. K ]   "Sounds like a typical noble piece of shit."  

Lazarius said, knowing what he did about his own father, the man who'd sold him off for the fortune he'd gained, he wasn't exactly lacking in the department of horrible fathers.  

He would continue to walk in the middle of the back, occasionally looking over his shoulder to make sure Raven was alright.  Even in Pames care, he was fiercely protective over the girl.  Or was he just making sure she hadn't woken up yet.

[ P . K ]   Tea would make it to the small home first. It really wasn’t a tiny hut. It was moderate and looked cozy in the dreary Ghostlands. The fire was all but cinders now, the stew still hot.

“He was from what my mother told me of him. Help yourselves to the stew while I gather a few things.”

Kretus grabbed his own bowl that was now lukewarm and began shoveling it in while he disappeared inside. He’s re-emerge with more bowls then disappear again as he rummaged around gathering a few things. It would not take long.

[ V . D ]   With a weathered sigh of relief Tea momentarily lowers the boy to indulge Kretus's kind offer. She'd locate items which to safely carry the stew offered, as well as utensils for them all to eat from-- offering each of their group a bit of stew to fuel them for the hard journey ahead.

Pame, while she devoured it swiftly, would hiss and huff noisily from scorching the inside of her mouth from rushing the process of chewing. Though she'd offer to feed Mars, blowing on it so as to prevent him from unnecessarily hurting himself.more.

[ J ]   Jursol followed the others choosing still to listen as they moved. Her raptors purred as they nudged her now and then. She glanced around at things as they walked taking in the new sights.

When they arrived at the mans hut she took a minute to look around. The raptors needed to hunt for food and felt the same at the moment. Mars was in good hands for the time being. Breathing a sigh of relief before speaking up.

“We be needin ta hunt for der meat.”

She said pointing at the raptors. Jimba now in her arms as she pet him. Jursol looked once more to the others to be sure they would be OK for a bit while she was gone.

[ V . D ]   "Swiftly," Pame agreed with Jursol, her eyes sweeping the familiar forest with a glower before remarking secondly, stressing,

"Carefully. These woods are known for monstrosities."

-- The promise to Jursol made by Verzatea before her hunting spree was a vow to set up small hints to help guide the zandalari and her raptors to the right path, back to the traveling band of misfits after they began the journey. Something small, but something Jursol could track.

@siidaraykashebahl

@frompage112

@zandalaridruidofgonk

@thebladeitself

@whatadarkbitch

@pyravari-kashebahl

@miss-irascible

To be concluded in “In Mind of Misery, Manipulation, Epilogue″

[dopescotlandwarrior]

A Hero Among Us-Chapter 13

Previous Chapters on AO3      A special thanks to @statell​ for all the help

Chapter Thirteen 

Warning: Explicit sex

Jamie ordered the entire compound locked down for three days of rest. Every man was torn back with dark hollow eyes. Even Misses Crook looked exhausted and walked to her rooms like a zombie. The rain had stopped for now and Jaime bravely pulled his shirt off and jumped into the frigid lake running the soap over him In haste and jumping out quickly. Claire brought towels to her husband and appreciated his gesture knowing they would be chasing their own piece of heaven and the smell of a clean Jamie was a fast track for her.

The men had moved all of their personal belongings to the new house and there was no reason to ever go back unless they wanted to retrieve the moldy dishes left in the kitchen sink. Jamie watched the men joke their way to the cabins, always lighthearted and too tough to be daunted by any task. He felt immense pride in his kinsmen and vowed to do right by them financially. He felt his wife pulling him to the house where he would show her no mercy taking what he needed from her. He felt a shiver of anticipation race down his spine and sting his balls.

There was something magical about their new bed. The mattress was firm and supportive making him forget his own name at times. The sheets were made from the highest cotton fiber count making them soft and cool to bare flesh. He kissed Claire from her knee to her core, very slowly making her back arch and spread her legs wantonly. Claire dug her fingers into Jamie’s hair and wondered why he was taking so much time.

“Jamie darling, I need you now, please don’t make me wait.”

Jamie was wedged between her thighs an inch from her core snoring loudly.

Claire pressed her hand to her lips to keep the sound of her laughter from waking him. She pulled her legs away from his head and covered him with a sheet before opening the french doors to the gorgeous spring day. She knew he would sleep better if the air was cool in the room. She felt powerful arms reach for her pulling her to his chest, still sound asleep, the man knew he wanted her close to him, conscious or not. Jamie would wake after sleeping through the day and half the night with a hunger for his bride. He worshiped her body for hours sending her on multiple trips into the erotic wind. With the dawn, he growled her name before collapsing into another day-long sleep.

Fortunately Misses Crook was up to receive the fresh fish and turkeys brought by the industrious men who needed meat, and a lot of it. She had three turkeys roasting outside and the fish frying in the kitchen by mid-afternoon.

Cho staked out his enormous garden and was turning the rich black soil to make ready for the seed that was donated by the nearby farms. The owners would have blushed with pride at their own generosity if they knew anything about it. He chose a spot that got full morning sun and he anticipated a huge bounty of tomatoes, corn, squash, lettuce, cauliflower, peppers, and more. Cho was happier than he could ever remember being. He understood the weight of his position here and was grateful for the trust placed on him.

Claire slipped quietly to the nursery and held the stuffed bear to her chest feeling the tears and the pain of her heartbreak. She curled up in the corner surrounded by all the discarded toys and cried her eyes out. The blood this morning was proof of what she already knew. No baby grew deep within her. It was the only thing that would heal this orphan, a family or her own, a child she would never leave, a completion to her own story.

Jamie woke to a gut-wrenching hunger and followed the aroma to the kitchen looking for Claire. He filled his plate and checked in with the men while he ate, still looking for his wife. Returning to the kitchen he looked at Claire’s false smile and swollen eyes and his heart broke. He would never reveal his disappointment to her because she was already so sad with the confirmation she was not pregnant, again. He tried to pull her out for a walk around the property but she returned to their bed to grieve in private.

Jamie walked in the fields that surrounded their property for hours. Just before he stepped on their land again he felt something poke him in the back. He was so lost in his thoughts it caught him off guard and he froze, lifting his arms in surrender. The bloke was taking his time and Jamie felt his anger rise over the assault. He twisted and viciously struck out at the man hearing the scared scream of a horse right before he was launched off his feet by a swift kick to his chest. He watched a white stallion gallop away, swinging its head in anger and kicking into the air. “That is one beautiful horse.”

Jamie held his wife through the night hoping she would find her joy again. Just as he did every month as they lived their heartbreak separately, alone.

For the next two weeks, Jamie brought fresh hay out to where he was accosted by the horse and replenished what had been eaten the night before. He suspected the horse belonged to the previous owners and wanted his comfy stall and daily feed again. Jamie kicked himself for scaring the beast half to death and hoped he could lure it back to the life it was meant to have.

The soft April breeze was warm and scented against Jamie’s face. He sat on the porch off their bedroom and looked at the vineyard below. The first thing he did every morning and the last thing every night was to check the vines. He never considered they wouldn’t grow, it never occurred to him. Now it was all he thought about because the new growth was three weeks late. Ben was away seeing friends and Jamie needed him back before he lost his mind.

The month of May arrived to double Jamie's anxiety over the vines. He stroked Donus and gave both horses a morning apple suddenly feeling his skin start to crawl and his back muscles tense like someone was there and watching him. He could feel this presence, above him, in the hayloft, but continued about his chores. Another five minutes and he definitely saw something move through the cutout above the stalls for hay distribution. Grabbing a rake he brought the claw end down on the edge of the hayloft making a terrible sound. He heard a squeak and dropped the rake to climb into the loft and kill the varmint. Seeing the shadow of something under a pile of hay he viciously grabbed at it shocked to feel a shoe and pulled it away from the hay.

“What are ye doing in my hayloft?”

Long soft curls covered a cowering head. The shirt was torn and the pants were filthy. The shoes had a large hole in the top.

“I asked ye a question, what are ye doing in my hayloft?” Realizing it was just a child he toned his voice down and spoke quietly. When the child raised his head, large blue eyes looked at him from a heavy fringe of lashes. The fear in his eyes seemed to disappear as the boy sat up and started yelling in French. Jamie laughed at the youth.

“So, ye say this is yer land and I am the trespasser? Why think such a thing, ye’re a child. Where are your parents?”

The boy knew he was risking being turned over to the authorities who would lock him into an orphanage which to him was more like a prison. He switched to his broken English and endeavored to look angelic to the man.

“I live here and work for the lady until they left. She told me to go home and I came to the barn after she let the horses go. I have been here ever since but you did not see me, milord, because I am too fast.” The child laughed at that and Jamie bristled at the thought of being observed covertly.

“How do you eat?”

“I steal food and have done so from you milord but I can work for meals and I am very hungry right now.”

The aroma of food cooking filled the air and Jamie was not surprised it made the child’s stomach growl. There was more to learn from this boy but seeing his flesh on bones he decided to feed him before turning him over to the Sheriff.

“C’mon let’s get ye fed. Ye mind yer manners and don’t steal anything or I’ll tan yer hide before givin ye to the law.”

The boy had to strain his neck to see Jamie’s face and he realized he was seeing his first giant which was almost as thrilling as eating. Jamie kept the child away from the Highlanders so he could learn more about how a tiny French boy ended up in America, alone. The kid explained he stowed away on the first ship available when he was running away from an angry merchant. He ate the apples in his pockets and fell asleep until nightfall when he planned to escape but the ship was already moving toward the open sea. He stole food and picked up a bit of English watching the passengers from his hiding place below deck.

“I stayed in the dark for a year, milord and when I could stand it no more I snuck out in daylight because I had to see the sun. A girl saw me just as I was running back to hide. She did not tell but brought me food each day after that.” The boy smiled while stuffing food in his mouth, “she had love for me,” and then he laughed almost choking in the process. Jaime slapped him on the back until he calmed down and started eating again.

“Ye werna on the ship for a year, maybe it felt that long but it wasna.”

“Yes, it was a year.”

“The captain would have to miss America and sail all the way around the world for it to take a year.” Jamie was not used to someone questioning his word and it was making him angry.

Claire saw Jamie sitting in the kitchen and went to him smiling, “Jamie darling, I have been looking for …” She looked at the child who had a drumstick hanging out of his mouth and a spoonful of beans ready to shovel in. His round face and pale blue eyes seemed to enchant her until she found her voice.

“And who is our visitor?”

“What’s yer name kid?” Jamie’s voice was gruff and impatient earning him a cold look from Claire.

“Claudel, milord.”

“Did yer mother give ye that name?”

“I suppose, I did not know which one she was so I could not ask her. The madam allowed me to sleep under the stairs and the ladies all treated me the same, so I never knew. One of the girls died of fever and I cried, just in case it was my mother.”

Claire was horrified at what she heard. This poor child brought up in a brothel without the care of a mother. She looked at the angelic child and wanted to cry for him.

“You need more food young man. Which is your favorite? I swear you are skin on bones.”

“I like all of it, milady, thank you.” The boy looked into the angry eyes of the giant and tried to redeem himself.

“Six carriages have arrived at the other home milord.”

“How would you know anything about our other home, boy?”

“I see everything milord.”

“Do ye now? Are the vines at the old house growing new shoots yet?”

The boy laughed and pointed at Jamie. “This can never be milord they look normal now but they are dead.”

Jamie’s heart rate shot up as he realized this child had seen them steal the vines and replace them. He now had a keen interest in making him an ally.

“So, ye say ye work for food, how would you like to work here and we keep ye fed?”

“Thank you, milord, you are a savior to me!”

Claire completely missed the hidden threat of their exposure as she was contemplating what to do with the child. “Well, Mister Claudel, you are too young to be outside. Misses Crook will find you a suitable room in the house and you will start your lessons tomorrow.” She looked at Jamie nod his agreement. “Starting with a bath and clean clothes, let’s go.” She motioned for him to follow her and before they were out of sight, the boy turned to Jamie.

“I have watched long enough to see you are good people, I would not have told what I know.”

Jamie just stared at him feeling very manipulated by the little genius. He felt angry and called after the boy, “ye have the name of a lass and I willna use it. From now on yer name is Fergus and ye better jump when ye called.”

“Yes, milord,” was heard from down the hall.

Misses Crook took over scrubbing the child and locked him in the bathroom while she altered some clothing found in the attic. When Fergus emerged for dinner he looked like a respectable boy except for the intelligent gleam in his eye. After supper, Fergus was sent to bed and was out the window and running before the bedroom door clicked closed. He ran into the fields that surrounded the property and whistled a couple of times before a beautiful white horse came out of the brush and stopped in front of him. He stroked its neck and the horse looked behind him and whinnied. Jamie watched the boy from the shadows and gasped as another horse approached Fergus with a very young filly. All three were the same color white and breathtaking. Fergus gave each adult an apple he had stolen from the kitchen and the baby allowed him to stroke her. Jamie watched with interest and followed but once the sunset, he lost him in the dark and gave up. He would say nothing about this until he learned more about the little thief.

The moon rose in the sky providing enough light for Jamie to see the outline of the boy coming back. He held one large, moving sack and a smaller one in the other hand. He set the big sack down every ten or so steps like it was too heavy to carry. Jamie watched him disappear into the barn and when he came out he secured the door behind him. Fergus looked up at the second floor until he spotted one curtain closed, the other open, and knew which room was his.

“Gettin back up isna so easy. Maybe we plant a sturdy ladder to ease yer nightly shenanigans, aye?”

Fergus spun toward Jamie, wide-eyed and terrified. “I’m sorry milord. I had a dark job to do for Misses Crook. She misses her chickens and is sad without them, so I got them for her, they are in the barn.”

The boy talked so fast Jamie could barely understand him. He walked to the barn and there were five chickens pecking at scratch, also brought by Fergus, he assumed.

“Goodnight Fergus. I’m sure ye’ll find a way back up there by morning.”

Jamie was exhausted and couldn’t wait to see his wife. He felt the heavy weight of his responsibilities every day and he didn’t like the complication of the little thief under their roof. He prayed for tolerance, patience, and a means to ingratiate the lad before he figured out how to blackmail them. He rubbed his forehead and counted the stairs left to climb.

Head back, eyes closed he let his thoughts drift in and out, seeing memories of Claire bundled up on the swing kissing his cheek because she could not speak. He smiled, and suddenly his eyes slammed open with a gasp shooting him to his feet so fast he felt dizzy. How could they leave it behind! The swing was still at the old property. He needed to get it back, right away and hoped it had not been noticed by the Randalls. He crept out the backdoor to retrieve the raft holding the lamp up trying to find the rope.

“What are ye doin?”

Jamie nearly shot right out of his skin and almost dropped the lamp. “Christ, Angus, I think yer tryin to kill me sneakin up like that.” Jamie tried to control his ramming heart. “ Since yer here, yer comin with me.”

“Can I come too?”

Jamie whirled on a black figure hunkered down about twenty paces away. He saw the red cheeks first as Rupert stood up and walked toward them. He tipped his bucket of crayfish at the other two men and chuckled. “Where might ye be goin?”

Jamie rolled his eyes and told them about getting the swing for Claire as he pulled the rafts out of the water grass and to the shore. Jamie held his heart and the other two men talked like friends, or maybe enemies, Fergus couldn’t be sure. Crouched low to the ground he peered around the corner of the house and watched them. The men made enough noise to wake the dead, he decided, and when they faced forward to row he snuck quietly onto the third raft and laid down very still.

Fergus was thrilled with his trip across the water. The dark shoreline could barely be seen and the houses stood as black squares in the distance. He felt very lucky these men did fun things like this.

At the opposite shore, Jaime turned around to tie the raft and the sight of Fergus smiling and waving filled him with rage. Fergus jumped from raft to raft until he stood in front of Jamie looking up and smiling. Jamie glared angrily and wondered what kind of message was in the boy’s smiling eyes and face. He had no idea but decided to surrender and stop trying to control the lad. “Keep quiet or ye swim back.”

The white swing was clearly visible in the moonlight and Jamie felt relief it was still there. They worked fast and when the chains came down Jamie caught them quietly. They placed the swing on the raft without taking it apart. They all felt a bit nervous and decided to get away from this shore as quickly as possible.

Jamie pushed his oar deep into the water and felt his beefy back muscles pull it through. He looked back at Fergus holding the swing like it might fall off the raft. Jamie smiled at him and kept rowing. Back at their own shore, he found a perfect secluded yard to hang the swing and hoped Claire would be happy to have it back. Three men and a boy disbanded to their beds happy with the night’s work.

The next morning the butler walked toward the house and noticed the big swing was gone. He pointed to it but none of the servants could remember it being there. Just before noon, Frank senior stood up and stretched asking his wife if she was going to pull her worthless ass out of bed today. She didn’t answer him causing his blood to boil. In a rage, he pushed her from behind and her body was lifeless, literally, she was dead.

Jamie’s eyes opened to a room full of sunshine, one of the rare days his exhaustion won the battle with his eyelids. He wandered outside to check the vines and saw a dozen men throughout vines looking closely at the arms of the plant. Jamie started running feeling a huge relief. The men were smiling as Jamie reached a vine and dropped to his knees to scrutinize the tiny bumps that had grown overnight. A heavy hand came down on his shoulder snapping him back.

“Looks like I got here just in time.”

Jamie looked up at Ben and shook his head no. It was indeed a miracle to know the vines were alive but the budding was a month late. The grapes would never be ready in time. “They are growin too late in the spring Ben.”

“Nonsense! I’ve seen this before after a transplant and mother nature will… ah heck, I don’t want to spoil it for ya!”

“Wait…Ben, it’s alright, I dinna mind if ye spoil it for me.”

Ben smiled indulgently at Jamie. “It will take about a month for the new growth to catch up to vines that started in April. It’s one of nature's miracles, she does not like waste. Speaking of waste, I purchased ten acres of two-year-old vines from the natives on my way back. The vines are already out of the ground and will arrive later today. It’s a long time to be away from the earth but hopefully, we can save some of them and add to the vineyard.”

Jamie’s head was spinning from all he heard in the last ten minutes and Ben saw the vacant expression on his young face.

“These vines are Cabernet Sauvignon and I have a hunch this variety will be very popular. We need to augar at least ten acres on the hills. You might want to ring the bell and get us moving!”

Jamie looked at Ben and suddenly understood. His eyes got huge and he ran for the bell ringing it for all he was worth. As the men gulped porridge and grabbed toast they ran for the equipment barn finding ten augars. Other men were splitting wood for stabilizing poles. Jamie saddled Brimstone to ride into town for supplies.

The same symptoms gripped him with each trip to town. The darkness that invaded his mind laying waste to any joy that had been there, a pounding head, itching hands, and a locked site-Line to the bank where his enemy still drew a salary and a breath. He felt his feet moving and tried to stop himself but this was long overdue. It was time to settle a score and he felt giddy relief it would be over soon. He took a seat and waited, allowing gruesome fantasies about the killing fill his head. He finally asked the manager where Rodney Benson was. The manager lowered his voice saying he was found dead behind the bank four months prior. The killer was never caught. Jamie thanked him and left, passing Frank Randall senior, unbeknownst, on his way out.

Through the summer, the vines grew, the berry clusters were thinned, mother nature was cooperative with healthy amounts of rain, no droughts, and no floods. Misses Randall was buried next to her son. Randall senior and his servants gave up when the vines did not grow and returned to England.

Ned formalized the deed from Romania and filed a new deed in Claire’s name for the old property. She was free to inhabit the house and land, grow and sell her crop, and would hand it over if her husband's surviving family came to claim it. She and Jamie owned both shores and would make the most of them in the coming years.

When Ned returned to the vineyard in late July he requested Jamie and Claire accompany him into town in their best clothes. Misses Crook made a masterpiece of Claire’s hair in the current style and pinned a fancy hat with a large feather to her hair. The dress she wore was one of her best from London. Jamie helped his wife into the carriage to sit with Ned while he and Fergus drove the horses to town.

Thinking their surprise would be dinner at the best restaurant in the region the moods were happy and celebratory. Ned pounded on the roof of the carriage and guided Jamie down a side road. Jamie brought the horses to a stop and looked at the commercial photographer’s building. His heart squeezed so hard he clutched his chest and looked down at Ned helping Claire out of the carriage. When he jumped down the men exchanged a knowing look and Jamie clutched Ned’s hand as if to stop him from leaving.

“Jamie, I came to San Francisco two years ago to find you, or find out what happened to you. It is time for me to return to Scotland and I will make your sister a very happy lady.” Ned looked down and struggled with his emotions. “I am rather invested in your lives now so promise you will write to me. Tears are not good in pictures but I see your love and it is returned. Your father would be so proud of the man you’ve become, you are the best man I’ve known besides Brian, and I hope you never change.”

Jamie was fighting weird and sad emotions that were very foreign to him, or so he thought. Sorrow, abandonment, a final goodbye, a loss in his soul he could drive a train through. He could barely remember a time when Ned was not standing next to his father. It was like having his father back when Ned was there and he didn’t want it to end.

As memories of the past year filled his head he realized that Ned was the driving force to leave their vineyard and move the plants, Ned pushed them to find a new property, Ned found the Romanians, Ned filed the legal papers to secure their claim. Ned came halfway around the world to find him and now it was time to go back.

“Thank ye, Ned. Ye saved us and gave us the best advice. I am grateful and sad to see ye leave. Please tell Jenny I love her and we will visit in three years' time.” Jamie hugged Ned and hoped it would last a lifetime.

For the next hour, they were blinded by flashes of exploding chemicals as the photographer took multiple pictures, including one with Fergus between them.

When Claire finally let go of Ned, Fergus helped her into the carriage. The two men exchanged a long look and a handshake and Ned watched the carriage roll toward their home. The angle of the sun bounced off Jamie’s copper hair until the horizon swallowed them.

Claire cried as she bathed alone. She would miss Ned more deeply than the others knew because he had become like a father in her mind. She imagined her father was just like him; smart, loving, funny, and intensely protective. Realizing Jamie’s heartache would be far greater she ran her special soap over her skin. The scent made Jamie putty in her hands and she would love the sadness from him. She pulled her special robe around her body and combed through her long coils fluffing it around her face.

The bedroom door opened and Jamie looked at his gorgeous wife as she walked toward him. She sat facing him across his lap and prayed he would let her love him. Jamie held her tentatively.

“I need ye lass,” he whispered.

His eyes flicked up to hers and he twisted, lowering her to the bed. Pulling the ties of her robe he let his eyes see every inch of her. He noticed her chest rise and fall with arousal and he knew a kernel of thought planted in her fertile mind would grow without tending. She has been thinking about loving me and her body is ready to chase her release, he thought. He brought his nose to her skin, between her breasts and filled his lungs with her scent feeling his erection snap to attention. He gently pressed her hands to her side when she tried to take control. “Please give me your body, Sassenach, I need ye, my heart hurts as if my own da was leavin me again. He caressed her from neck to core and watched the movement of her ample breasts as his fingers drew closer to her trigger.

“I’m sorry Sassenach,” he whispered. “To relieve my heartache, you must suffer.”

His hot mouth covered her nipple and his tongue danced lazily across it. For the next hour, he held her hands above her head as he touched, tapped, and sucked every inch of her. Claire felt her orgasm was close, brought on by flexing her thighs together. She started to close her eyes and felt it suck her in until Jamie pushed her legs apart with a deep kiss that said: “not yet,there is more I want to touch.” He lifted her body and turned her over, running his hand over her beautiful butt. Pressing his hand under her he gave a stimulating rub that made her moan and move her hips toward him.

“Open yer legs, lass, let me in.”

Jamie grabbed a fist full of hair and thrust into her body, holding her against him. Claire gasped loudly and waited, hoping he would release the pent up arousal caused by his slow loving. He pushed into her several times and wrapped his arm across her chest lifting her to him, back to chest, pushing her legs open with his knees. It was a slave position where he could hold her down and thrust up into her reaching depths that threatened her sanity and his. He pulled out of her abruptly and was under her before she cleared the lust haze that was holding down her brain. He looked up at her smooth flat stomach, the swell of her breasts, hard nipples, head thrown back in ecstasy.

The Sassenach had many sides to her. With Fergus, the men, the horses, or Ben, there was a little shift in her personality to best embrace that moment in time. Throughout, her impeccable manners and grace defined her. Not here. When he pushed her sexually she became a polar opposite of his refined wife. She was a sensual being, needy, greedy, taking what she wanted to feed a hunger only he could satisfy. The contrasting personalities were an endless source of fascination to him.

“Look at me Sassenach. Watch me lick you and hold back as long as you can. If you look away I will stop, love. Tell me yer ready.”

“Ready, yes ready!” She panted and watched Jamie’s tongue claim her inside and out. She was losing her grip and dropped her head back and closed her eyes ready for the release and then nothing. “No!” She moaned “Pleeease Jamie.” She opened her legs even more and looked down at her protruding bud hovering right above his lips. “Open your mouth,” it sounded like an order and Jamie smiled, opening his mouth and pushing his tongue against her core. “Suck it,” was a harsh whisper. His lips closed around it and she felt the brain spinning sensation of his expert attention. When she had completely lost her mind he flipped her and invaded her body with fingers and tongue until she screamed his name for a solid minute. Before she landed back on earth he was able to spin her again and her pussy was stuffed with an over-aroused cock and a voice was telling her to make him come. “Now Sassenach, grind on me, slam yer pussy down on me. Do it. Make me come.” Claire was still half out of her mind and Jamie’s demands fueled her arousal again. Claire leaned far back and brought her feet forward. She touched him where they joined and Jamie pressed into her making her gasp. He looked down and almost lost it, seeing an erotic image he would never forget. Claire was chasing another orgasm and seemed to know exactly what she needed. “Touch it!” Jamie set his fingers on either side of her clit so the harder she rocked him the closer she came to the promised land. He watched her beautiful face and bouncing breasts until he felt the sting of his ejaculation start. He grabbed her hips and forced himself into her body feeling the velvety muscle constrict around him like a strong hand. He moaned into the intense orgasm as her body finished him.

Claire felt him pulse inside of her as he panted for his life. Her body felt like jello and the room spun as he pulled her down next to him. Still panting he looked at her closely and pushed the hair out of her face. He was terrified he had gone too far and he called to her.

“I’m sorry sweetheart, did I hurt ye? Are ye alright Sassenach? To say anything more would incriminate himself for being a brute and he felt wretched inside. He watched closely as she opened her eyes. She smiled at him like they just discovered the lost treasures of King Solomon. An erotic secret between the two of them. She purred, pushing him to his back on the bed and closing her eyes to the exhaustion. Jamie felt overwhelming relief and a new level of trust from his wife. As always, he had a deep desire to dance a jig but she was already in her dreams so he closed his eyes to oblivion.

When Jamie’s eyes opened a few hours later they felt like sandpaper. He dragged himself to the barn to feed the horses, including the beautiful pair of white Arabians and the baby that Fergus lured back into their protection. Fergus fell in beside Jamie as he always did, noticing the giant was quiet and sleepy today. They walked to the flat acreage where the white grapes were nearly bursting. Jamie held his hand out and Fergus pushed the hydrometer into it. Jamie’s eyes had closed, a trick Fergus had seen more than a few times. Milord could remain standing yet fully asleep including body twitching and dreaming. Fergus guided his hand to a cluster where he plucked a grape and started snoring. Fergus continued the test as they had done every morning for a month and his young eyes went wide at the Brix rating. He ran to the bell and yanked it over and over again snapping Jamie’s head up, suddenly wide awake. “Christ, why today?”

Jamie ran into the whites taking multiple Brix readings and agreed with Fergus, it was time.

The cabin doors flew open and the men poured out into the vineyard like a practiced fire drill. Jamie was running for the holding containers and pulling them into the vineyard three at a time. Cho led his Chinese pickers with a quiet dignity until they could no longer stand it and they broke away and started filling their bags.

Claire was aware of the shouts and happy whoops outside and quickly surmised the harvest had begun. She was numb to it and pressed herself deeper into the corner of the nursery. Hot fat tears shimmered in her eyes until they spilled over, one after the other. Tucking her thighs up close to her chest she laid her head on her knees and gave into the sobs as she grieved her empty womb. When she could cry no more the nursery door would be closed for another month and someday, many months, she hoped.

By mid-morning, she felt strong enough to join Jamie and offer her help. With a fresh rag in hand she Pulled the used rag away she saw several drops of blood on an otherwise clean rag. She stared at it wondering what to make of it. Normally, her first day was a heavy flow. She counted on her fingers and stood stunned realizing her courses should have started a week ago. Stabbing her legs into breeches she bound her painful breasts, shoved her hair into her hat and lifted her leg to slide down the banister. Opting instead to walk down the stairs, she wondered if this was her first time descending to the first floor on her feet.

Claire waited as long as she could before walking into the vineyard to request time with Cho. He looked up from his vine and dropped his bag to rise and bow. Through crimson cheeks from embarrassment, Claire told Cho exactly what was happening. She laid on the mats in his home and nodded her head at the packet of needles he held up. She squeezed her eyes shut and was surprised when Cho asked her to sit up. She felt nothing and wondered if he decided not to do the treatment. It took little time for Cho to see the direction of her Chi.

Claire stared at Cho with wide eyes that started to tear up. She was afraid to ask but could not stop the tears. Cho took her hands, “there is life in your womb Mistress, your Chi flows through it. Congratulations.” He helped Claire to her feet and saw the light shining in her eyes. This child would be blessed with the love of a strong mother, he thought. He smiled to himself and returned to the vineyard.

Misses Crook watched the mayhem from the window, still a bit heartbroken by Ned’s departure. She watched Claire walk slowly toward Jamie and rolled her eyes sternly at her breeches and hair piled under a hat. Lost in her own thoughts, she watched Claire whisper in Jamie’s ear and he dropped to his knees hugging her. Misses Crook’s hand flew to her mouth as her eyes went wide. “Sweet Jesus, there’s a bairn comin!”

Jamie held his beautiful wife in the middle of the chaos and felt his tears of joy coming. He led Claire to their rooms and stripped her before pressing his head to her abdomen. He was flushed and starry-eyed, suddenly pulling her to the bed and tucking her in protectively. Claire was giggling so hard she could hardly speak. When she would try to climb out from the quilts he would pull her back with a determined, happy face.

“Jamie darling, I will not take to my bed, there is too much to do and I am very healthy. Please don’t worry or it will be a very long year, my love.” She kissed her hero with all of her heart and they locked eyes for a long minute. “Now, get back to work before all the men decide to abandon the grapes as you just did.” He hugged her once more and ran from the room.

Fergus had a hooked tool and his canvas bag was a bit longer than he was, so he dragged it from one plant to the other. When he saw Jamie he reached clear to the bottom and pulled out a cluster triumphantly. Jamie looked at the sun bouncing off the sharp edge of the hook and wondered if this was a good idea, and then laughed at his ignorance. How could he ever assume control over this weird and wonderful little kid. Fergus laughed and pointed at Jamie, “milord was sleeping and I read the number and pulled the bell. It is lucky I am here!”

“Aye, very lucky. Now get back to work.”

[ddaeng-181338]

Cold | 07

Wolf! AU

• Min Yoongi x Reader

• Enemies to Lovers

Yoongi hated you the second you joined the pack and that was that

Cold Masterlist • See my blog for full Masterlist

Namjoon had left crutches for you to use — it was easier for you then just hobbling around on your injured ankle. “Need help down the stairs princess?” Namjoon — not really to your surprise — has been waiting for you by the stairs when you left your room.

“I mean it would be nice.” He chuckled softly at your remark and scooped you up bridal style. “Hold On tight princess.” You rolled your eyes, wrapping one arm around his neck and clutching your crutches in the other. His feet made soft thumps against the staircase until he finally he reached the bottom floor.

“Y/n! Just in time princess dinner is ready!” Jin smiled brightly at you, dark eyes flashing blue for a moment and you smiled. The other boys were already at the seats around the kitchen table and greeted you and Namjoon with cheerful hellos — well except for Yoongi who had a mouthful of food.

“Look at her go.” Jungkook laughed softly and you made a beeline for the table on your crutches — Namjoon trailing behind you to make sure you didn’t fall over in the process. “Easy there killer you don’t want to hurt yourself more.” Yoongi’s deep voice caught you by surprise, you nearly froze mid lunge on your crutch because of it.

The omega in you wanted to submit to him and all he did was speak. You fought off your shock and instead forced a grin. “I’m skilled cat eyes.” He raised an eyebrow at you as Namjoon helped you take a seat right across from him. “So skilled brat, so skilled.” the others watched the two of you for a moment more before going back to devouring their own food.

There was something in his voice that was making the omega wolf in you want to submit to him. What the hell is he doing… your mind wandered to your dream from earlier, his face between your thighs and...you shook your head reaching for your fork quickly to shovel food into your mouth. “Yoongi hyung?” Namjoon’s voice sounded next to you and you glanced up.

No words were spoke between the two but you could tell they were talking to one another. They had lived together the longest before the others came along — their bond was unbreakable and you knew they knew each other better than the knew themselves. The sense of wanting to submit faded away and you let out a small sigh of relief. Was Yoongi actually trying to make me submit? Did Namjoon sense it and that’s why…

That had to be why you concluded, reaching for your glass of water to eye both men carefully. They acted as if nothing happened and no one else seemed to notice the whole interaction take place. You looked down again at your plate, shoveling more food in while you thought over what just happened. Luckily your dinners as a pack were always quiet — everyone too busy eating to make conversation.

An overwhelming sense of being stared at came over you and you looked up to meet Yoongi’s dark gaze. His eyes flashed red for a moment and a low — barely audible — growl left his lips. Once again you felt the urge to submit to him. What in the hell is he doing? Namjoon kicked Yoongi under the table — brushing past your leg in the process and once again the urge to submit to him subsided.

“What are you doing Cat Eyes?” Your eyes shot up to look at him, no anger in them or disdain — just confusion. Yoongi merely smirked at you before returning to his food, this time you turned your eyes to Namjoon. A million questions in your eyes and he just gave you a small smile. “I’ll talk to him later on.” Was all he mumbled to you before eating his own food.

The rest of dinner passed by uneventful, light talking and joking while going back for seconds. “Y/n what made you go out running at night?” Jungkook was looking at you with wide doe like eyes. Leave it to this pack to have every eye shape but a Damn wolf. “Wanted to test my stamina and senses. I did okay up until I hurt my ankle.” Jungkook nodded — he was guilty of going for night runs as well.

“Next time you want to do that y/n let me know and I’ll go with you, even if you have to wake me up.” You smiled sweetly at his offer “I’ll keep that in mind Kook.” He nodded softly and turned to Taehyung who was using his chopsticks as makeshift fangs and poking Hoseok with them.

Jimin patted your thigh softly and you turned your attention to him. Not a word was spoken but you knew exactly what he was talking about.

“What’s up with Yoongi?”

“Not a Damn clue.”

“I could sense his jealousy from here.”

“No shit.”

“We should hang out in my room after this yeah? Hoseok? Wanna join us?” Jimin’s eyes wandered over to Hoseok who nodded softly. And that was that. You all got up minutes later, helping Seokjin by dropping of your plates on the way out. “Jungkook, Tae come help me with these before I beat your asses.” You laughed as Seokjin had to pull the two by their ears back into the kitchen.

On your way out you spotted Namjoon dragging Yoongi to his room — all the while Yoongi seemed to be mumbling about something before glancing back your way. Your cheeks flushed and you quickly looked back towards Jimin and Hoseok who were halfway up the stairs. “Hey...uhh guys I’m on crutches.”

Both men stopped to look down on you and laughed. “Well damn we’re dumb.” Hoseok snorted and he walked back down the stairs to scoop you up bridal style. Jimin came over too , scooping your crutches up and heading up the stairs before Hoseok and you. “My room Hoseokie, y/n can sit on my bed.”

Hoseok nodded, humming softly as he rocked you softly like a baby. “What did you want to talk about Jiminie?” Your voice was soft as the three of you headed down the hall. “Nothing in particular, I just wanted to hang out with you three. You could use a good laugh Y/n.”

You felt your eyes well with tears for a moments before you blinked them away.

“How do you know me so well Jiminie?” He smiled, turning around to look at you for a moment. “Because I see a lot of myself in you.”

++

“What the hell was that hyung?” Namjoon’s voice came out in a soft whisper. His arms crossed across his chest, he might be younger that Yoongi but he was still pack leader. “I don’t know what you’re talking about Namjoon.”

Yoongi flopped down on the younger man’s bed. “Yes you do hyung. You need to explain yourself.” He was persistent and Yoongi knew there was no way he was getting away with the little stunts he pulled at dinner. Yet he continued— “I really don’t know what you’re getting at Namjoon.”

Namjoon’s patience was strong — but yoongi’s stubbornness always had a way of making it run thin. “Listen to me hyung…” his eyes flashed a dark red for a moment “as pack leader you are obligated to tell me what I want to know. Hyung or not.” Yoongi took the hint and sighed, his walls coming down in one swoop.

“I don’t know Namjoon. I just… fuck I don’t know where to even begin.” Namjoon grabbed his desk chair, pulling it out and sitting down across from Yoongi. “We got all the time in the world hyung, start from where you think is best.” Yoongi sighed, leaning down to settle among Namjoon’s many pillows. Namjoon snorted — it was as if he was a therapist.

“It really started last night Namjoon, seeing her in such a bad shape when you came in with her. Sure we went back and forth and were rude as all hell to each other. But seeing her like that changed something in me.” Namjoon’s head tilted to the side. Eyeing the man carefully as he continued. “And I knew the story you told me was pretty believable and you’re good at sticking to it. But she told me everything Namjoon. When she woke up earlier today.”

So he knows her past...but how much? “She told you everything?” Yoongi nodded, eyes shutting as he sighed deeply. “Her old pack, her psycho ex and the abuse and… everything.” The room fell silent for a few moments before Namjoon spoke again. “So you wouldn't want me to tell her you didn’t leave her side until she woke up?” There was a teasing note in his voice and Yoongi Shot up straight. “Tell her and I’ll kill you Joonie.” A small smile fought its way into Yoongi’s features as he flopped back down again.

“Do you have feelings for her Yoongi?” Straight to the point but it’s better to be blunt with Yoongi. There was a few second pause before Namjoon got the answer he wasn’t expecting. “I don’t know...yes? No? I’m confused Namjoon.” A shocked smile appeared across Namjoon’s features. So I was right.

“You’re jealous min Yoongi. The alpha wolf in you wants her to submit. But you’re too stubborn to tell her your feelings. Your wolf new the moments she walked through the pack door she was the one you wanted. And that scared you didn’t it?” Yoongi was silent, arm slung over his face so Namjoon couldn't see his expression.

“Damn you for being so smart Kim Namjoon. How the hell…” Namjoon let out a laugh, leaning back in his chair and closing his eyes as well. “I can read people easily Yoongi. And if it gives you any piece of mind she wants you too. The omega wolf in her wants you. So maybe with her heat coming up you’ll be able to finally satisfy your wolves needs hmm?”

For the second time that night Yoongi shot up in bed. “Fuck.” Namjoon’s brows furrowed. “What’s wrong?” Yoongi seemed panicked , the scent filling the room as he hopped of Namjoon’s bed and begun to pace the room. “My Rut namjoon, my fucking rut is a week before her heat. How am I supposed to control myself around her…”

“The way you always do Yoongi, you leave for a few weeks till your rut passes and her heat passes.” Yoongi shook his head, hands becoming clammy. “No namjoon you don’t get it. I want…” Namjoon finished his sentence. “You want to spend your rut with her. And you want to help her through her heat yeah?”

“Don’t say it out loud!” His eyes went as wide as saucers and he froze. “Well Yoongi, I think your best bet is to talk to her.” There was another silence in the room as Yoongi seemed to think things over in his head. “Do you know where she is right now?”

“Up in Jimin’s room with Hoseok and well...Jimin.” And before Namjoon could even react Yoongi was out the door. Well that should be an interesting conversation.

++

Your stomach hurt and tears stained your cheeks. “Jimin stop it! I can’t breathe!” You were doubled over in his bed laughing hysterically as you watched him attempt an online game. Beside you Hoseok was laughing as well, tears running down his cheeks and Jimin jumped out of his chair in frustration for the fifth time since he started playing the impossible game.

“I can’t help it! It’s ridiculous!” Laughter bubbles out of him and you three fell into another fit of unbearable giggles. “Thank you guys really. I don’t know how you knew Jimin but this is really something I needed.” Jimin’s giggles subsided enough for him to speak “of course y/n.” The fits of laughter subsided as the game restarted and Jimin took his seat once more.

You and Hoseok sat on his bed with wide eyes and laughter already bubbling in your chests as Jimin already begun to fail the current level. “Damn Jimin you really suck as this game.” All three of you turned towards the door where Yoongi was standing. “Shut up hyung!” Jimin’s eyes flew back to his computer screen, hands furiously hitting the buttons.

“Sup Cat Eyes.” Your voice was teasing, you wanted to know why exactly he was here. “Sup brat. Can I talk to you alone actually?” Hoseok glances between the two of you with raised eyebrows. Meanwhile Jimin’s fingers stuttered over the controller for a moment before tapping furiously again. “Sure, your room?” He nodded, large hand coming up to run the back of his head.

You nodded, Hoseok helping you grab your crutches as you headed out of the room with him. “Is this about your little stunts at dinner cat eyes?” Yoongi remained silent until he reached his room opening the door slowly to let you in first. You entered with a small thanks and were met with Yoongi’s natural pine scent. “Damn Yoongi your room smells really good…”

You turned to watch him close the door behind him, locking it with a soft click. Your heart quickened slightly at the gesture.

“We really need to talk Y/n.”

[chrysalispen]

x. the mirror of malicious eyes

When Aurelia next awakened the only indication of a chance from night to daytime was the angle of a thin sliver of light, shimmering fitfully betwixt a stray crack in the wall’s mortar. She stirred, shivered from the damp chill in the air, and tilted her chin curiously at the sleeping man whose head lolled on her right shoulder. Her cursory inspection of the cramped cell, now dimly lit, showed that this was the sleeping arrangement for everyone: shoulder to shoulder for warmth, if not protection.

A glance into the other two cells confirmed that she was the only Garlean who appeared to be participating in this endeavor. The men in the other two cells had isolated themselves, sitting stiffly back to back against the walls, separate from the others.

“Good morning, my lady,” a voice said to her left.

She turned her head to address the speaker with a strained smile. The owner of the voice was a pretty Midlander woman with straight midnight-black hair, cropped to regulation length. She was holding something in her hands, and Aurelia caught a scent that roused a bodily demand she’d almost forgotten she had.

“Hiro and I saved you some of the rations. The guards brought it by a few bells past, but you were sleeping so soundly you didn’t stir.”

Aurelia blinked at the trencher’s contents. It was some kind of simple stew, lentils and sliced sausage in a thin broth with a rough-cut hunk of dark brown bread.

“It’s gone cold,” the woman continued apologetically, but Aurelia paid no heed. She was already tearing out a piece of bread and soaking it in the broth to soften it, then scooping out a heap of lentils and meat to shovel into her mouth. The food was in fact cold and the lentils overcooked, but she couldn’t remember the last proper meal she’d actually had. It felt like the best thing she’d ever tasted.

“Thank you,” she managed once she’d eaten enough to silence the feral gnashing of her hunger. “How long was I asleep?”

“I think… three full changes of the guard? It was a very long time. The woman with the knives said you’d been conscripted to work in the infirmary back at their camp, so we thought it best to let you sleep. She’s been coming down to watch them, said she was making sure they only do what they’re supposed to do.”

“You could have awakened me. I don’t want to be a bur-”

“Beg pardon, my lady, but there’s barely any room for one set of feet to walk,” was the blunt response. “It’s true we could have awakened you, but ‘tis easier for all concerned to simply bring you aught that’s needful.”

She felt the urge to argue, but let it go. The woman had a point–their quarters, or what passed for quarters, were so cramped that there was little enough room to stand and sit.

“What’s your name?” she asked instead.

“Sayaka jen Hanamori, my lady. I’m - I was - part of the Fifth Cohort signal corps.”

“Sayaka. Is that an Othardian name?”

“I hail from Doma, my lady.”

“Please,” Aurelia winced, “don’t call me 'my lady.’ I’m neither your mistress nor your commanding officer.”

“But you are pureblooded, my lady,” Sayaka said patiently, as if that explained everything.

“…Well, yes, but that doesn’t-”

The rattling clank of metal on stone interrupted them, followed by the creak of the door’s turning hinges. Sayaka immediately froze in place, her gaze cast down to the rushes as an indistinct figure peered between the bars with a torch held aloft. And then Aurelia herself tensed, for she recognized the face that was looking in on them. It was one of the Ala Mhigan men from the cart, the pair who’d harassed her before Bryn’s underling had interfered.

His eyes swept over her as if she were invisible and the light passed along.

After the door closed both women sighed in unison, paused, looked at each other, and grinned. It was a grim sort of camaraderie to be sure, but when Sayaka spoke again she seemed a bit less diffident than before.

“They’ve been coming in every half-sun or so,” she muttered. “Everyone’s been wondering what the Eorzeans are planning to do with us. You wouldn’t happen to have heard anything, would you?”

“I remember hearing rumors about a trial of some sort. Beyond that, I know as much as the rest of you.”

The Doman engineer didn’t say anything for a long time. All she could hear was the slow shuffle of the other woman’s feet in the soiled rushes. In one of the other blocks, someone else coughed, then sniffled, then went silent.

“A trial,” Sayaka said, and she could hear the note of fear there. “You don’t think…”

“Think what?”

“No, my lady, forgive me. 'Tis naught.”

“I’m not your lady. What were you going to say?”

With clear reluctance that pretty face tilted upwards to look at her, dark brown eyes wide. “…You don’t think they’ll just sentence the lot of us to hang, do you?”

The question chilled her. No one in the camp had seemed to want to address anything beyond the immediate needs of the wounded, when she’d been there. Even Bryn had been closemouthed, stating only that it wasn’t her responsibility what the command actually decided to do with any prisoners. That lack of clarity didn’t exactly inspire much confidence, but she didn’t want to say so. The Doman conscript looked to be near tears as it was.

“I don’t have anything against the Eorzeans at all,” Sayaka said plaintively, before Aurelia could answer. “I was a good student and I learned very quickly, so I was able to secure a sponsor to send me and my brother to the capitol. For our schooling, you know- and I thought perhaps if I joined the imperial army and earned my citizenship I might be able to help the people in my village. I didn’t think…”

She nodded. "I know."

“I never would have hurt anyone. I haven’t even laid hand to a weapon since basic.”

“So that’s it, then,” someone else said. “We’re waiting to see if we live or die.”

“Assuming they ever plan to let us see the light of day again,” a gloomy retort echoed from the cell next to theirs, this from one of the other Garleans. “For all any of us know, the savages might’ve bloody well decided to let us rot down here.”

They could do that, she knew. She didn’t think they would, but they could. They could simply let them starve to death down here and no one would be the wiser- and she hoped that notion hadn’t occurred to any of their captors. The Spire was such an isolated location that it could be weeks before anyone thought to check and see how they were faring. If anyone remembered they had been sent here at all.

But what choice did they have save to hope for the best?

~*~

Kan-E-Senna was angry.

To Raubahn Aldynn, who had known the Elder Seedseer for several years and had never known the outwardly mild-mannered woman to even raise her voice save on very rare occasions, it was a remarkable experience. Her eyes were fever-bright and her cheeks rosy and the air about her small frame fair seemed to crackle with energy, as if the Greenwrath itself were contained within her bones.

Merlwyb Bloefhiswyn’s countenance was like a thunderstorm to Kan-E-Senna’s fire: her pale brow knit in a fierce scowl, arms folded in a defiant yet defensive posture across her chest. “I was under the impression that the Levy was under *my* authority. I am *not* going to pull personnel when our numbers are far outstripped as it is!”

“Surely we have enough-”

“Seedseer, I’m aware you mislike the way this has been handled. But what’s done is done. You can make any decision you like with the people under your authority, but Commodore Sletteidin made the same call I would have made in his position.”

The smaller woman took a deep, visible breath, clearly trying to rein in her ire.

“To those souls we granted succor upon the Flats,” she said, “I have already given my word that they will never see the wrong side of a gaol cell. I did this because our plan will not work if we cannot prove our word can be trusted.”

“Then what do you suggest? I’m not going to have imperial prisoners given the run of the camp. I wanted all of these people watched and kept from running to the XIVth, and that is easier done from a holding cell.”

She looked out over the muddy remains of the Foreign Levy’s interim encampment in silence. After a near moon spent here in cleanup, they could afford to tarry no longer despite the widespread destruction that still remained. Their people needed all the hands that could be spared for disaster relief. Now that preparations had been finalized at home, all three leaders of the Grand Companies had given orders to make preparations for departure. Rites had been said over the last of the bodies retrieved from the battlefield, the pyres burnt until the coals had died to embers, and the ashes blown across the land by the southern winds.

The process had been a slow one in part because most of Mor Dhona had been left a crystalline wasteland. Aldenard’s aetherial balance had been badly upset by the Calamity; cold storms better suited to the late fall months had raged off and on for the past fortnight, though without the blizzards that had blanketed Coerthas in heavy snows. Entire swathes of the rainforest had been destroyed, and the area around Silvertear Lake had been flash-burnt by Bahamut’s flares, the ambient aether crystallizing in an instant and half the mountain range itself crumbling beneath the onslaught.

Those who had been held at the camp upon the Seedseer’s arrival had been removed from it nearly as soon as she had seen to their hurts, as if it had been planned specifically due to her presence. Hence her wrath, Raubahn knew. She felt she had been made to give a promise that it appeared she had immediately broken, and he couldn’t fault her frustration any more than he could fault Merlwyb’s logic.

Deciding to break the impasse as the third voice, he cleared his throat until he was certain he had their attention. 

“Do we know exactly how many were taken prisoner by the Levy?” he asked Merlwyb. “Conscripts and Garleans separately?”

“At last count the Levy itself held nine Garlean prisoners all told, eight men, one woman. Most our people encountered were officers who chose either to attempt escape, attack the rescue squads, or take their own lives rather than surrender. As far as the full headcount, I couldn’t say off the top of my head.”

“Where are they being held?”

“The Emerald Spire.” Merlwyb pinched the bridge of her nose. “I’ll request an exact number. Linkpearl communications are still unstable, but I think if we keep them brief there shouldn’t be a problem obtaining that information quickly.”

“Seedseer, do you know roughly how many of the prisoners Gridania would be able to take in?”

“Twoscore, perhaps. That’s in addition to all the injured conscripts we have already taken as wards of the Twin Adder. I don’t know that we have the resources at present to support many more.” She sighed, bowed her head, and he knew she was thinking of the people who had been lost in the partial destruction of the city. “Should it be needful later, we can certainly revisit that number. Full well do I know you and the Admiral bear your own burdens, and I would not add to them.”

He nodded.

“The Admiral’s exactly right about the logistics, mind,” he said. “I don’t think it’d be advisable to move them again before a decision is made, for a number of reasons. So instead of trying to shift them all about and figure out which group should go to which camp and risk muddying the waters further- 'tis my thinking that we should go to them. Will the space have the capacity to host these proceedings?”

“Most of the Spire has lain in ruins this past score of years,” Merlwyb said, “or so I’m told. But the keep itself, along with its gaol, has been in continuous use by the Twin Adder as a watchtower and is still usable. There should be at least one space that can serve our purposes.”

“We will need judges.”

“Aye, but only three more souls to serve on the panel, I should think. We have other matters to attend; 'twould be best for all concerned to bring this to a swift conclusion.”

“And should anyone wish to speak in defense of any of these poor sods, they’ll have the chance to do it. Aye, that includes the Garleans,” Raubahn said, at the sight of Merlwyb’s lifted brows. “Much as I mislike it, we owe it to ourselves to be as evenhanded as possible.”

She appeared to mull this over for a moment, lips pursed in thought, before slowly nodding.

“I suppose I’ve no objections,” the Admiral allowed at last. “Though I doubt the Garlean prisoners are going to like our terms.”

“Then that is their choice,” he said. “We'll let them be the masters of their own fates.”

~*~

The days and nights had long since blended into each other, a monotony of dim light and fouled rushes and broken sleep broken only by meager rations and the intermittent visits of the guards. Lu didn’t say anything to her even in passing, just kept a watchful eye on soldiers and prisoners alike, and Aurelia understood that matters had not changed between them, regardless of the woman’s connection to a mutual friend. She’d receive no aid from the Miqo'te in either direction save the bare minimum. It was disheartening, but not surprising.

At first she had tried to track the days by the number of times the guards changed, but she soon lost track of that, and the light between the mortar cracks was even less reliable due to the unseasonably cold and violent storms that rolled frequently through the area. Once or twice she heard one of the guards mutter something about odd aether in passing, but she wasn’t sure if they were talking about the weather or something else, and none of them were friendly enough for her to attempt to ask.

One dreary morning the rattle of keys and the opening door woke her out of a feverish doze - between the damp chill and the constant slow leak in the mortar, everyone on the block was nursing an incipient cold, Aurelia included - and a fist slammed against the metal bars of the gaol cell.

“Look alive, Garlean, you’ve a visitor.”

She coughed, shifting herself into something resembling a sitting position, and blinked owlishly at the Elezen man staring in at her. His expression was utterly neutral but the shifting of his feet betrayed his impatience.

“Well, hurry it along, then,” he said. “We don’t got all day.”

Sayaka helped her to her feet and handed her the crutches. The Doman’s face was a picture of concern, but she didn’t speak as she watched the Garlean woman she’d cautiously befriended make her careful way over the floor to the cell door. The tumbler turned with a hollow click and the barred door was opened just enough to let her limp across the threshold.

The guardsman gestured with a jerk of his chin. “This way.”  

Aurelia followed, trying not to flinch at the slamming of the wooden door behind her and wondering who on earth would have come here to see her specifically. Bryn perhaps, but she couldn’t think of anyone else who would have taken especial interest in an imperial prisoner. She limped carefully behind the man up a set of stairs to the main floor, where she saw-

“Sparrow!”

The Roegadyn stood with his arms folded across his broad chest at the threshold of a closed door that led into one of the long-unused rooms inside the keep. His hazel eyes lit up with something like relief at the sight of her. He was not in the scarlet colors of the Maelstrom any longer; he wore a suit of well-used leather armor, his axe strapped over his back.

“You’ve a half bell,” the guard said briskly at her back. “Make the best of your time.”

Once the door had snicked shut behind him, Sparrow reached out to embrace her, walking aids and all. 

“Glad t'see you hale an’ whole, lass.”

“Both of those states are debateable,” she said wryly, “but I still breathe for the time being. How long have I been here?”

“Not quite three weeks. Camp’s breakin’ down to roll out. We’ve done about all we can do at the Flats for now. As far as you and yours go, a panel of judges arrived at first light this morning for the hearings. There was some sort o’ miscommunication - that’s why you've been here so long - but it’s mostly been sorted.” His worried expression didn’t change. “They’ve allowed any folk what want to speak on behalf of the prisoners to make statements.”

“So then the rumor was true? We’re all to stand trial?”

“Eh? Aye, that’s so.” Sparrow scratched the back of his head, looking somewhat abashed. “But if you’re worried about gettin’ rotten fruit thrown at you or the like, don’t. It won’t be a spectacle. Just you and the panel and character witness statements from whomever decided to put in a good word for you. Bryn’ll have given hers, and me an’ Captain Brudevelle already gave ours. You’ve a goodly number of folks in your corner, lass, as it happens.”

She stared down at the stones beneath her feet.

“You’ve never really answered my question, Sparrow.”

“What question?”

“Why are you always going out of your way for me? We barely know each other; most would call us enemies, in fact. And yet you’ve shown me nothing but the utmost consideration.”

For once Cheerful Sparrow, whose lighthearted personality so often seemed to be so fitting of his name, appeared at a loss. He opened his mouth as if he meant to speak, then shut it, then opened it again. This time a sigh issued forth and an old pain flickered at the corners of his eyes, deepening the lines in his face. It muted his smile somewhat, rather like a cloud that had drifted across the afternoon sun.

“My daughter,” he said at last, “was very much like you.”

Her grip on the crutches was so tight her knuckles had gone colorless. She peered up at him, very carefully, eyes half-hidden beneath dirty fringe.

“Her name was Yellow Daisy- looked just like her ma. She was serious and dutiful and very kind, had plans to travel south to Ul'dah and study at their Phrontistery once she came of age. Fair bit of a presence; I could pick her laugh out of a room of hundreds. After my wife’s passing, I took up mercenary work for the extra coin - like aught else in that city, schooling of that sort costs money. I used to worry she resented me for always bein’ gone on jobs, but if she did she never said so.”

“You say 'was.’ What did she… what happened to her?”

His smile trembled in place.

“When the Garleans first arrived in Eorzea, they drove out a host of smallfolk from their villages an’ farmholds an’ took that land to build their fortresses. Most folk fled to towns and cities, but some turned to banditry. Daisy came across an overturned cart in the road one day on her way home from market and tried to help, not knowin’ it were just a ruse. Gave 'em her food, but they didn’t believe her when she said she had no coin. So…”

“Oh, no,” she breathed, “they-”

“The Yellowjackets sent word by linkpearl. I left Cap'n L'sazha’s crew at port with our job half done so I could go home and bury my only child. She was nineteen summers.” She felt the warm weight of his hand on her shoulder. “Now before you go an’ start blamin’ yourself, you should know that Daisy’s death was no more your doin’ than mine.”

“Why?” Another lost life that could be laid squarely at the feet of her people. “Gods’ sake, Sparrow! Why don’t you hate me?”

“Why should I? You’ve not a malicious bone in your body, lass. I saw that much the night we found you. You freely offered to help when you knew your skills were needed.”

“How do you know I didn’t simply do that to save myself?”

“Have you known, at any time, what we planned to do with you?” When she shook her head, he asked, “Then why would you help us?”

"I had to."

"Why?"

She sighed. 

“Because if I know I can help, I can't make myself ignore it. The woman who raised me used to call it my curse.“

"Aye, your Empire would see that as a weakness, I expect. But that kindness takes a special sort o’ strength. Especially when refusin’ to turn your back on folk in need oft repays a body with naught save even more trouble.”

“Well,” Aurelia said with a mirthless laugh, “I expect that shall prove true enough, anyroad. Taking the part of a Garlean prisoner - particularly under present circumstances - is in fact liable to be troublesome for you.”

“ 'Tis like to be troublesome for me an’ Bryn both,” he agreed. The hand on her shoulder gave a gentle squeeze. “But I couldn’t help my daughter. I have a chance to help you and I mean to take it. So I’ll not be lookin’ away, either.”

“You’re a good man, Sparrow.” Her throat felt so raw and tight she could barely choke the words out. “Would that we had been on the same side of this pointless bloody war.”

“Had we been fightin’ on the same side, lass, 'tis unlikely we’d have ever met like this.”

She bowed her head. That was true enough.

“Can you promise me one thing about tomorrow?” she ventured. “Please? Just one thing?”

“What is it?”

Aurelia chewed on her lip, her gaze shifting towards the closed door. “The other prisoners,” she said. “The conscripts, I mean. I know you can’t simply set everyone free, but most of them were given no choice in joining the army and I doubt anyone will listen to me. They deserve a chance as much as I do, if not more.”

Sparrow smiled.

“Still not a thought for your own neck,” he said gently, as the guard opened the door to come take her back to the cell. “I’ll do what I can, lass, I promise.”

[joohoneyhoe]

Raindrops.

As if the rain wants its existence to be known,

Am I someone who engraved, like the rain,

My existence to you?

info: jeon jungkook x oc x kim seokjin genre: fluff, humor, angst, smut, exes!au  word count: 7.4k a/n: my welcome back from hiatus gift to you guys! Enjoy! Jungkook has been waiting to be finished for three months.

“Please, Seokjin. I would really like to go on this camping trip with you.” you begged your boyfriend as you sat in the kitchen eating your morning breakfast together, sipping your coffee slowly as he scowled up at you in annoyance. 

You had been with Kim Seokjin for over three years now and it had its ups and downs, but you had always been open to work on things, even if he wasn’t always so keen. To say the least, it wasn’t like any relationship you’d had previously. You had made a lot of exceptions for his “uptight” antics to say the least, exceptions you wouldn’t have made for anyone else.

But, to be fair, this had only been your second very serious relationship and at this age, you didn’t think the chances of having another if this one ended, would be that plausible.

“I don’t want to go, Tempest. For one, Yoongi will be there and I don’t like him. Plus, Jungkook is also going and I definitely don’t like him.” Seokjin pointed out, shoveling his scrambled eggs into his mouth and chewing as swiftly as his jaw would allow. He was trying to eat as quickly as possible to leave now, that much was noticeable.

“What’s wrong with Yoongi and Jungkook?” you questioned, your heart jumping slightly at the mentions of Jungkook. “Yoongi is just a dick. He’s literally never said a nice thing to me.” he almost whined, making you roll your eyes at his dramatics. He never had anything nice to say about your six best friends and frankly, it was getting old.

“He’s never said a nice thing to me and he’s one of my best friends. I’ve told you not to take it personally. He hates everyone. And what’s wrong with Jungkook?” you demanded of him, taking your coffee and dumping the rest out into the sink, it now lukewarm and not as appealing to drink.

You could admit, you were a little defensive about why he got so upset when Jungkook was involved, but he didn’t need to know the reasoning behind that, it would just make things worse. You turned around to face him, leaning against the counter with your arms crossed over your chest. He continued to scowl at you, still irritated with the conversations being had, but you didn’t care at this point. This was something you wanted to do, and not just for yourself, but with him.

“I don’t know, Tempest. He just rubs me the wrong way, plus he’s always looking at you weird and whispering to you when he’s around. I don’t like it or the way he acts when he thinks I’m not looking.” he said, pointing his finger at you. “When has he ever whispered shit to me, Seokjin?” you questioned, your brow raised in confusion.

“That time at Namjoon’s place when he had a pool party. He pulled you aside and whispered something to you when he thought I wasn’t looking.” he recalled, pushing his stool away from the the breakfast bar and grabbing his work bag.

“That was three years ago, and he was telling me I had started my period and it was bleeding through my white swimsuit!” you exclaimed, tossing your hands up in frustration, remembering that humiliating incident. “Still, he didn’t need to touch your back like that when he did it.” he barked as he straightened his black tie after putting the strap to the bag over his broad shoulders.

“Oh my gosh, Jin. That’s ridiculous. Well, I’m going whether you want to or not. It’s for Jimin and Taehyung’s four year anniversary and I want to be there. I haven’t gotten to be with all six of them since that pool party three years ago. You can either go or not go. It’s up to you.” you laid out for him, not budging an inch. It was too important to you to give in, and you had missed so many things with your friends already because of his dislike for them. 

It wasn’t happening this time.

“Fine, but only because I don’t trust Jungkook.” he gave in, a scoff leaving your lips. “That means you don’t trust me either, Jin.” his tongue poked at the inside of his cheek, brow arching. “Maybe I don’t, Tempest.” you shook your head, your eyes welling with tears at his statement.

“I’ll see you after work, Seokjin.” you told him before storming off to begin packing, not even bothering to give him your usual goodbye kiss. “Whatever.” you heard him mumble, his dress shoes echoing across the kitchen tile before you heard the back door slam.

“Yeah, whatever.”

“Tempest! Taehyung and I are glad you and Jin decided to come! It wouldn’t have been the same without you!” Jimin shouted at you as you came walking down the dirt path carrying your backpack and tent, Jin following slowly behind you as he sulked.

You immediately dropped all your things and ran towards the boy, his arms wide open as you jumped at him, him catching you in a hug as your legs wrapped around his slim waist. He hugged you tightly, spinning you both around in the process. It had been almost a year since you had seen him, and it had been a year too long.

“Me too! I can’t remember the last time I got to go camping with all of you! We used to do it all the time.” you pointed out after he had set you down, your hands resting on his shoulders. You could hear Jin grumble in irritation as he picked up your discarded things and walked off in the opposite directions to go set up the tent.

“I know. We should try and make it a yearly thing again.” Jimin suggested with a wide smile, his eyes disappearing as he did. You took his face into your hands and squished, making him let out a boyish giggle. “I agree.”

“I fucking hate the outside.” you heard your best friend since preschool complain behind Jimin, your eyes darting around to find him automatically.

“We know, Yoongi. There’s a reason why you’re so pale in comparison to the rest of us.” Hoseok retorted with a laugh, coming up and clamping a hand down onto Yoongi’s shoulder, him quickly jerking away from it with a look of disgust on his sharp features.

“I have sensitive skin, alright!” he shot back, stepping away from Hoseok who just cackled at him. I watched Namjoon slowly walk over to us from his tent, his long legs carrying him smoothly in our direction. “Keep telling yourself that.” he added to the discussion, shooting me a wink as his eyes found mine.

“I hate you guys.” Yoongi snarled, his nose scrunching. Taehyung came bouncing out of what I assumed was he and Jimin’s tent, his feet bare as usual and collecting dirt along his souls. He always said that going barefoot was the best and healthiest way to connect with the earth, and frankly, you agreed. There was nothing better than feeling the cool earth beneath your uncovered feet.

Taehyung was a free spirit and it was part of the reason you loved him so.

“You don’t. That’s why you continue to hang out with us after all these years.” he stated, bounding past his friends and up to you and Jimin, wrapping his tanned arm around Jimin’s narrow shoulders.

“It’s an obligation at this point.” Yoongi mumbled, giving you a hint of a smile that only you caught. “Oh, my dear sweet Yoongi.” you said endearingly.

“Oh, come on, Yoongi. Stop being a fucking killjoy. You enjoy our company and you know it.” Jungkook’s distinguished voice echoed through the open camp site, your eyes almost instantly landing on him, heart fluttering at the sight of his dark eyes boring into yours.

“There you are, Jungkook. We thought you got lost out there.” Jimin exclaimed as he turned away from you, your eyes diverting away from the tall, muscular man as he approached confidently with a large smile on his face. “No, I just went for a long hike. It’s too nice to sit around here listening to Yoongi gripe about how much he hates being outside.” Jimin laughed. “Fair enough.”

Jungkook’s attention then turned to you, making you very aware of Jin’s sudden presence beside you. “Tempest, it’s nice to see you were able to come.” he told you with a soft smile before he acknowledge your boyfriend, holding his hand out to shake in greeting. “Good to see you too, Jin.”

Seokjin refused it, shoving his free hand in his pocket as his other arm wound around your waist. “Seaokjin, and yeah, sure.” Jungkook simply smiled, unaffected by his obvious dislike for him.

“Well, who’s up for a dip before dinner?” Taehyung questioned, hastily diverting attention from the awkward situation that had just been created. Everyone but Jin and Yoongi agreed to it, the two of them eyeing each other darkly.

“Have fun with that, I’m gonna start dinner while you guys dick around.” Yoongi informed us, heading towards the fire pit, beginning to grab all the things he needed.

“I’ll be in my truck.” Jin said, spinning away from you, but you caught his wrist to stop him. “Jin, come on. Come swim with me, please?” you begged, your eyes softening as you tried to convince him. He simply jerked out of your grasp. “No thanks. I don’t really want to feel muck between my toes and seaweed wrapped around my ankles. I’ll be in the truck. Let me know when it’s dinner time.”

“Okay…” you mumbled as you watched your pissed off boyfriend walk away from you. At this point, you were regretting your decision to bring him along. He clearly wasn’t going to change his attitude about the trip, no matter what you did.

“Come on, Temp!” Jungkook’s voice jerks you from your distress, eyes finding him as he peeled the white t-shirt from his torso. He had matured greatly since the last time you had seen him, his abdomen defined, arms bulging and thighs massive in size. You quickly shook yourself out of your trance, getting pulled in by that bunny esque smile before he turned and ran towards the dock, launching himself off of it, all the boys directly behind him.

“I’m coming! Yoongi, come on! You know you want to!” You shouted, yanking the clothes from your body as you followed, revealing your simple black one piece.

“You know I don’t, Temp.” he replied, not even bothering to turn around and just waving his hand. “Party pooper!” you hollered.

“Damn right.”

“You know he’s a lost cause, so don’t even bother!” Hoseok pointed out from the water as he pushed the hair from his eyes before splashing Namjoon with a large wave of water.

“I know, I know.” you said with a laugh, stopping at the edge of the dock and looking down at all five of the tanned men in the water. They were all beautiful in their own unique ways, each a special part of you and each equally as important.

“Jump!” Jimin encouraged as he lept onto his boyfriend’s back, holding him tightly around the neck as they both smiled happily. As you stared at them adoringly, you didn’t realize that Jungkook had dipped under the dock, hoisting himself up silently and sneaking up behind you. Suddenly, you felt hands around your waist, launching you off the dock making you screech out.

“No!” you submerge completely, those strong arms still wrapped around your waist, pulling you to the surface. You inhale sharply, flinging your arms around your assailants neck. Once you opened your eyes, you come face to face with a cackling Jungkook, his red hair in his eyes as he tried to blink the lake water from them.

“Goddammit, Jeon Jungkook!!” you scolded him, smacking his chest, trying to wrench yourself away, but he clung tightly. “You never would have gotten in if I hadn’t done that!” he reasoned, squeezing your hips lightly.

“Yes, I would have!” you defended yourself, finally slipping from his grasp and wading over to Namjoon as quickly as possible to hide behind his tall frame. He darted away from you, leaving you wide open to all four of the other men.

“No, you wouldn't have! You would have just sat on the edge of the dock and yelled at us if we splashed you.” Hoseok said, sloshing through the water in your direction, quickly catching you and spinning you around.

“You guys suck dick.” you complained as they all began to hit you with wave after wave of water, your eyes shut tight as it cascaded over you, your long hair sticking to your face, neck and shoulders.

“Well, some of us do.” Taehyung teased, Jimin punching him in the back before dunking him under the lake water, but swiftly letting him back up.

“Oh my fucking god!” you exclaimed with a laugh, everyone joining in with you in return. Jungkook’s eyes locked on yours, his teeth pulling his bottom lip into his mouth, biting back a large smile. Your heart drummed in your chest as you looked at him, but was swiftly pulled out of it by Hoseok’s hold being loosened around you.

You were so happy you were able to be there, pissed off boyfriend or not.

Six of you sat around the fire after dinner, Jungkook and Taehyung having went out in search of firewood to keep it blazing for the remainder of the evening. Despite Jin’s obvious disinterest in being there, you continued to have to good time catching up with your childhood friends. You listened to Jimin tell tales of he and Taehyung’s adventures traveling the globe together, wishing you could have been there with them like they had asked you to be.

Hoseok regaled tales of his time spent in New York while his girlfriend had begun her rise to fame in the world of modeling. He told tales of fashion shows and wondrous styles of clothing he had been privileged to see and try on. He had been built for that sort of world and yet, here he was with us, roughing it.

Namjoon spoke of his days as a scholar in the world’s most prestigious colleges, his days spent pouring over books in the most exclusive libraries across the country. How you envied his drive for the history of the world around him, his passion and dedication. He truly had a beautiful mind and it clearly showed, even when he spoke.

As usual, Yoongi sat beside you silently, his eyes focused on the flames before him as it licked at the logs. Yoongi didn’t need to look at anyone for them to know he was listening, because he always was. It may not have looked that way to someone who didn’t know him, but he was always listening.

As Jimin and Hoseok began fighting about whether New York or Paris was better, Jin stood up without a word and began to walk away from the campfire. Your head spun in his direction, body turning in your chair to face his retreating figure.

“Seokjin, where are you going?” you questioned in concern. “I'm walking to the bathroom.” he called over his shoulder, still not bothering to look back.

“We’re outside, dude. Piss in a bush.” Yoongi called out, eyes still locked on the fire, like he couldn’t pull them away from it.

“No thanks, dude. I'll be back, Tempest.”

The conversation around the fire stopped, it becoming eerily quiet as Jin’s figure retreated from your sight. You turned back around in your seat, folding your hands in your lap as you refused to look at any of your friends. Yoongi’s hand rested gently on your thigh, giving it a reassuring pat before disappearing again. Jimin got up from his spot next to Taehyung on a fallen tree that had been converted to a seat, coming over to sit in Jin’s old chair.

“Jin doesn't seem to be having a good time and he's been shooting daggers at Kook all night. Did you finally tell him about you guys.” he asked you, his hand resting on your knee as he looked at you.

“Fuck no! How dumb do you think I am, Park Jimin?” you spat, spinning your head around to make sure Jin wasn’t within earshot anymore. “You seriously haven't told him?!” he gasped, eyes wide in shock. “No! I'd never be able to hang out with you guys ever again if I did!” you whispered harshly, smacking Jimin in the chest in frustration.

“Why the hell are you even with him then, Temp?” Namjoon’s voice broke up you and Jimin’s argument, everyone turning in his direction.

“Seriously. He doesn't like any of us, and we've tried including him for the past three years. He acts like we all have the plague or something.” Hoseok chimed in, leaning forward and resting his elbows on his knees.

“He’s not always like that you guys.” you said defensively, feeling all of their eyes on your face. “He is more than he isn't, Tempest.” Jimin stated plainly. He knew the most about your relationship, and unfortunately he was right, but you argued anyway. “You guys don't know that. You aren't around him like I am. He can be sweet and helpful.”

“Can be?” Namjoon inquired, his dark brow arched in skepticism. “You know what I mean, Joonie.” you scoffed at him. “I'm afraid I don't, Temp.” he shot back at you, his expression showing his disbelief in what you were telling him.

“He is literally the opposite of your type.” Yoongi commented.

“Oh look, the silent one finally speaks. Why don’t you go ahead and tell me what exactly my type is, since you seem to know better than I do.” you snapped, bringing your face in his direction.

“Jungkook.” Yoongi replied plainly with a shrug of his shoulders. “Why won’t you guys let that go? We broke up like six years ago.” you huffed out, becoming slightly irritated at the way the conversation was turning out. “Because neither of you seem to have let it go.” he continued.

“What are you even talking about? I've been dating someone else for three years!” you reminded him, turning your whole body to him and craning your head to meet his dark eyes. Those deep pools slowly drifted to yours, saying nothing, but eyes saying everything he wanted to.

“And yet both you and Jungkook still look at each other like you did in high school. We all see it. Why can't you guys?” Hoseok made clear, eyes locked on you, just like everyone else around the fire.

“He literally hasn't dated anyone seriously since you.” Jimin told you, beginning to rub your leg comfortingly. “What does that have to do with me?” you asked of him, confused why this conversation was still happening.

“Everything, Tempest. You're his white whale. Something he has never been able to catch and keep.” Namjoon’s soothing voice echoed through the open space, sending a calming feeling over you, like it always was able to do. “Why is that my fault?” you asked him, your voice quiet now. He gave you a gentle smile, one that could soothe even the darkest of moods.

“It isn't. It's both of your fault for not seeing how much you guys actually mean to each other.” he answered honestly, making your heart drop into your stomach.

“You guys really need to let this go.”

“Let what go?”

Everyone’s head spun in the direction of Jungkook’s voice, spotting him and Taehyung emerging from the trees. There was silence among the six of you, everyone glancing around at one another in panic.

“Temp thinks the earth is flat.” Yoongi broke the silence.

“Seriously, Temp?” Jungkook’s face didn’t hide his shock at Yoongi’s statement, you rolling your eyes in response.

“Goddammit, Yoongi. No I don't!” you exclaimed loudly, shoving his chair so hard it tipped over with him in it. He didn’t even say anything, just pushed his chair aside and lay back on his elbows on the ground.

“It's true. She does.” Hoseok agreed, smacking his own thigh as he laughed. Jimin jumped up from is seat, knocking it over as he pointed at you accusingly. “I heard it! She said the earth is flat!”

“I'm ashamed of you, Tempest.” Namjoon said as he hid a smile while shaking his head.

“I can’t believe I'm still friends with you guys after all the bullshit you put me through.” you groaned, hiding your face in your hands as you dropped your head between your knees. Yoongi chuckled from the ground beside you.

“You fucking love us.”

A distant rumble of thunder could be heard, everyone glancing up at the sky above. You could see clouds beginning to block out the stars. Raindrops began to fall, splashing along your exposed skin, sending a shiver through you.

“Fuck! The rain was supposed to hold off until tomorrow night!” Taehyung yelled loudly in complaint, throwing his hood over his head. Jungkook drops all the wood in his strong arms, them thudding loudly against the dirt.

“It's just a little rain. It'll probably stop soon.” he says cheerfully, patting Namjoon on the back before sitting down beside him.

And just like that, it begins to downpour.

“Way to jinx it, asshat.” Yoongi grumbles at him as he jumps up, the quickest he’s ever moved in all his life.

“Why do you have to be such a dick?” Jungkook shouts over the booming rain, pulling the hood of his sweatshirt up as well as he watched Yoongi dash for his unshared tent.

“Everyone get to your tents before you get too wet!” Namjoon calls out, behaving like the leader he always has been. You can hear Hoseok’s laugh in the distance, making you smile despite the rain soaking through your clothes.

“That's what she said!” he shouts.

“Shut up, Hoseok!” all the boys seemed to shout in unison, laughter ringing through the air anyway.

“Tempest, get in your tent!” Jungkook demanded, your eyes meeting his through the sleeting rain. You both just stood there, staring at one another, unmoving until you remembered that Jin was out there still.

“I have to find Seokjin!” you told him as you darted in the direction of the bathrooms. You could hear Jungkook’s footsteps trailing behind you, but stopping suddenly when Jin’s figure appeared.

“Seokjin! There you are, hurry and get back to the tent!” you called out to him, holding your hand out for him to take. “No, Tempest. I'm going home. I hate the rain and I'm certainly not sleeping in a tent while it does and waking up damp and gross in the morning.” he responded, his feet carrying him in the direction of his truck instead of you.

“But, Seokjin, you promised me you would try to enjoy yourself with me this weekend.” you reminded him, feeling your bottom lip begin to quiver. “There’s nothing enjoyable about this, Tempest. You can either come home with me or stay here. Either way, I'm going.” he snapped at you, head turning with a deep scowl twisting his handsome face.

“I'm not ditching my friends when I promised to be here to celebrate a special time for them.” you shouted at him in anger. “Have it your way. I'm going home. I don't know if I'll be around when you get back either.” he returned that anger, marching off without a second glance.

“Fine! Be that way, Seokjin! All any of us have ever done is try to make you feel welcome and you just refuse it. Go home and sulk for all I care! Actually, just pack your shit and leave!” you screamed, not caring that all of your friends were hearing the discourse, despite the heavy rainfall.

“I fucking will!” he responded back, though you could not see him anymore. You heard his truck door slam, the sound of dirt and stones flinging everywhere as his tires grabbed the mud and peeled out.

Tears fell down your cheeks as you turned to walk to the tent you had intended to share with him, your chest hurting immensely. Your clothes were soaked through and through, your hair stuck to your face and neck as you crawled inside the dry space. You grabbed a spare towel from your backpack, drying yourself as best you could while you continued to sob, realizing three years of your life had just gone down the drain.

“Tempest, are you alright?” you heard Jungkook’s voice call over the pelting rain against your tent. “No.” you answered, unsure whether or not he heard you over the noise. “Can I come in?” the zipper moved slightly, but stopped. “If you wanna see me crying like a bitch, then sure, why the fuck not.” you agreed, pulling the soping sweatshirt off your shaking frame.

He fully unzipped the flap, quickly stepping in and shutting it to keep out the rain. At that moment, you were thankful that Seokjin had been so adamant about getting the largest ten he possibly could, leaving enough space between your sleeping bags to sit without getting them all wet. Jungkook sat with his legs crossed directly across from you, looking almost like a wet golden retriever as he gazed at you. You handed over the towel to him, a small smile forming on his lips in gratitude.

“I'm sorry about Jin, Temp.” he whispered after he had removed his own sweatshirt and dried off as much as he could. You took the towel from his large hand, tossing it in the corner. The two of you sat in silence for a bit, you looking down at your hands as fresh tears fell from your eyes.

“Why are you sorry? It's not like it matters to you how he treats me, Jungkook.” you finally told him. His hand reached out, brushing the tears from your face with the pads of his fingers, taking you by surprise at the intimate gesture.

“Why would you say that? It definitely matters to me how he treats you. I care about you.” he stated, pulling himself closer to you until your knees were touching. “Well, you don't have to and I don't even know why you would after all these years. Especially after how I ended things with you after six years of dating.” he sighed, his tan face morphing in sympathy.

“Tempest, how we ended doesn't change how much you have always meant to me, and it never will.” your eyes finally met his for the first time since he entered. They were big, locked on your face and beginning to well with tears.

“Why? Why are you so forgiving? I bring the guys I've dated around you and you're always so polite and kind to them and me. I don't deserve that at all.” you confessed, your voice cracking slightly. He took your face into both of his hands, bringing your foreheads together.

“I could never be the one to cause your unhappiness, Tempest. You were unhappy when we ended, and I couldn't bear to continue making you that way. I would rather us not be together and you be happy, than with me and miserable.” he explained quietly, bumping his nose against yours.

“Have you really thought that it was you that made me unhappy for all these years, Jungkook?” you inquired, your fingers reaching to clutch onto his damp white shirt. “Well, yeah. I mean, that's the only logical reason. You don't stay with someone if you aren't happy with them or your relationship.” he revealed, pulling back slightly to look at you.

“I was never unhappy with you, Kookie. I was unhappy with me. I loved you more than anything and wanted you to be at your best, and that certainly wasn't with me.” a sob escaped your lips, your head dipping down to hide your face from his view. He quickly pulled you back up to look at him, shaking his head as a tear slid down his cheek.

“I was always happy with you! You were my best friend, the first person I ever held hands with, kissed, touched...made love to. You were and are still everything to me, Tempest! I've only ever wanted you to be where you are the happiest, even if it's without me.” your hand came up to hold his cheek after his dropped from your face, almost defeated. He eagerly leaned into your caress as you sat there silently, the rain still beating down on the tent.

“Why didn't we talk more, Jungkook?” you asked him softly, thumb brushing his cheekbone in comfort.

“Because we were twenty-one years old, Temp. We didn't really know how.”

The two of you sat quietly once again, your hand still resting along his face, his coming up to wrap around your wrist. His fingers felt as if they were burning your cold skin, his touch reminding you how much you had always missed him. Seokjin’s touch had never felt the same as Jungkook’s had, not inducing the same feelings that you were experiencing from something as simple as his hand holding your wrist.

“I miss you, Jungkook. I've missed you for so long.” you whispered, gazes locked. “I've missed you since the day you left, Tempest.” he replied, more tears falling from his dark eyes.

You leaned forward, pressing your lips to his softly. He immediately took your face into his hands, pulling you closer, almost desperately. His arms wrapped around your waist, pulling you up on your knees as your lips molded together nearly perfectly. You felt his legs uncross, carefully moving each onto either side of your legs so he could scoot himself closer to you, his groin pressed against your thighs. You felt his tongue dip out, touching your bottom lip briefly before he pulled away entirely and looked up at you.

“Tempest…I--I don’t want you to do this if you're going to regret it after. I wouldn't be able to live with myself.” he informed you, his body trembling from being soaked to the bone for so long.

“The only thing I regret is thinking that my life would work without you.” you expressed to him as your lips kissed him carefully. He removed your hand from his face, taking yours in his and looking up at you with a serious look on his face.

“I need you to be sure. I don't know how easy it will be to stop once I touch you. You're all I've thought about for six years.” he probed further, not taking his eyes off of you for a single moment.

“I'm beyond sure, Jungkook. Please, just touch me. I need you more than I've ever needed anyone else.”

Jungkook moved back, getting up on his knees with you and taking your face into his hands once again. His lips came down on yours roughly, tilting your head to deepen the kiss, tongue slipping past the seam of your lips. You grabbed at his back desperately, bringing his hard body flush to yours, feeling every dip and curve of every muscle against you. His hands left your face, moving down to grab at your ass, the denim feeling as if it was plastered against your flesh and he palmed you.

“Let’s get these wet clothes off and warm up before we get sick.” Jungkook suggested with a smirk, fingers toying with the hem of your black shirt. You let him remove it, the wet fabric peeling from your skin slowly. His cold shivering lips immediately came down to kiss along the swell of your breast.

“Fuck, I’ve missed your skin.” he said to you as he brought his mouth back to yours, his kiss hot and desperate. Your fingers carded through his wet hair, tugging on it as his mouth began sucking along the column of your neck.

You grabbed at his white shirt, removing him from you reluctantly to yank the shirt over his head. Once his tanned chest was revealed to you, your fingers instantly went to touch him. You traced along every curve of his well muscled chest, all the way down to the button of his tight black jeans.

“Get these off, Kook.” you demanded, popping open the button and unzipping the fly.

“You first.”

Without hesitation, you sat up and began tugging off your jeans, struggling due to how stuck to your skin they were. Jungkook let out a laugh, the thunderous sound of the rain still beating against the tent muffling any noise inside of it. You sat on the ground, your pants stuck at your thighs, trying to kick them off and failing. Jungkook crawled towards you, his large hands landing on your thighs as he continued to laugh, fingers quickly finding the edge of your waistband.

“Let me help you with that.” he teased, the muscles in his arms flexing as he ripped them from your legs in one go, tossing them away haphazardly before taking off his own.

You were both left in your underwear at this point, both shivering uncontrollably from being wet for so long. Jungkook grabbed your wrist and dragged you back to him, arms winding around your waist as he graced your skin with his lips.

“I’ve missed you so fucking much, Tempest.” he said as he took your face into his hands, his dark eyes searching your expression. Leaning down, you kissed him deeply, wrapping your arms around his thick neck.

“I just want you to love me, Jungkook.” you told him gently, legs winding around his waist as you clung to him.

“I already do.” he whispered, bumping his nose to yours endearingly with a smile.

“Show me.”

His lips met yours in a fiery kiss, hands dipping under the band of your lace boy short underwear to grip your ass while pulling you into him, his hard cock pressing into your core. You ground down into him, making a muffled moan pass through his lips into your mouth as he kissed you. Getting up off of his lap, you tugged on the band of his underwear, him hastily lifting his backside for you to pull his underwear off completely.

His thick cock sprang free, it a deep crimson and leaking already. Your hand immediately reached out to grab it, a gasp tumbling from his heaving chest as you flicked over the head with your thumb. His hands went to your underwear, yanking them down to your knees, stopping there because that’s what you were resting on. You released his length and shimmied out of them, him taking the opportunity to unhook your damp lace bra and pull it from your frame.

“God, you’re fucking beautiful.” he confessed, yanking you back to him and forcing you to sit on his lap, nestling his dick between your dripping folds. “I could say them say about you, Jeon Jungkook. Though, I have always thought that.” you told him, kissing along his jaw as he rotated his hips, dragging himself between your lips slowly.

He kissed you once again, his tongue pushing past the barrier of your lips as one hand intertwined into your hair and the other gripped his hardness, lining up with your pussy. You didn’t wait for him, just dropped yourself down, sheathing him inside of you completely, both letting out a sigh of relief. Your head landed on his shoulder, teeth sinking into the skin there as you both remained motionless.

“If I move now, I’ll lose it. I want to be inside of you as long as possible.” he confessed into your neck, his breathing heavy and hot along your cold flesh. Your fingers smoothed along his muscular back, nails digging into him as his hips began to move languidly.

“I don’t care what you do, I just want you.” you rasped out before he gave you a hard thrust, knocking the breath from you. “You have me, Temp. You always have.” your lips collided, undulating your core against him, clit rubbing against his pubic bone as he began to drill into you.

His hands gripped your ass roughly, squeezing and pulling you into him as he fucked you. You raked your hands through his dark red locks, jerking his head back to attach your mouth to his, tongues battling against one another as you ground into each other. He suddenly pulled his mouth away from yours, moving down to latch onto a perked nipple, lips wrapping around it and sucking.

Your head tilted back, pushing your chest towards his face as one hand came down to rest along his thick thigh. He wrapped his hands around your waist, fingers digging into your ribs as he held you in place while he flicked his tongue over your nipple rapidly. You grabbed at his hair again, holding tightly as he moved to the other breast, pulling it between his teeth. A loud whine escaped you, it sounding almost like you were begging for relief from the pleasure.

Jungkook suddenly lifted you off of his cock, making you gasp out when your back hit your cold sleeping bag. He let out a snicker at your surprise, his lips attacking your neck and sucking what would be dark mark into your skin tomorrow as he dove back into you without warning. You slid your arms under his, your hands grabbing his ass as he thrust fast and hard. Both of your moans filled the tent, the rain still beating against the fabric and drowning out the sounds.

“I love you, Jungkook.” you whispered against his lips after you had taken his face into your hands to look him in the eyes. He kissed you passionately, fingers curling around the back of your neck as the other held one of your thighs around his waist.

“I love you, so much, Tempest.”

You could feel your climax approaching rapidly, his cock dragging along your walls perfectly, as he always had done. As if he could feel it coming, his hand came down between the two of you, two fingers pressing to your aching pearl and rubbing. You let out a cry, back arching off the ground as he fucked into you even harder.

“Come on, cum for me.” he growled into your jaw before giving you an extra hard snap of his hips, the sound of skin echoing throughout the tent. “Fuck, Jungkook!” you cried, wrapping your legs around him tightly as the coil inside you began to tighten further. “That’s my girl, cum around my cock.” he ordered, his voice deep and out of breath next to your ear.

One last deep thrust and he sent you over the edge, your high hitting you hard, white spots erupting behind your eyes, making you see stars. He felt you constrict around him, his mouth falling open as his pace began to sputter, groans leaving his throat before you felt him release into you. He connected your lips as you both came, clinging to each other as if your lives depended on it. You helped each other through your orgasms, drawing it out as long as possible before stilling completely.

Jungkook collapsed on top of you, still lodged inside of you as he held you around the waist, his head on your chest as you caught your breath. Your fingers carded through his still wet hair, eyes closed as you listened to the sound of the rain, it soothing you as much as the weight of Jungkook on top of you was. He suddenly sat up, resting on his elbows as he looked down at you with a smile.

“I love you.” he said softly, kissing your lips with more love than Seokjin ever could have. “I love you too.” he planted one last kiss to your lips before removing himself from you, getting up and grabbing his wet underwear and pulling them on. You watched him in confusion, him quickly noticing.

“I’m going to go grab my bag. I’ll be right back.” he bent down and gave you one last reassuring kiss before exiting the tent, hearing a yelp as the cold rain hit him, making you laugh.

You crawled over and grabbed the towel from the corner early, cleaning yourself up before taking a fresh sweatshirt from your bag and slipping it on. You grabbed both sleeping bags, unzipping them and using the trick Jungkook had taught you years ago to make one big sleeping bag. Just as you finished up, the zipper of the tent sounded, a wet Jungkook stepping in and tossing his bag into the corner. He shook the water from his hair and tan skin, a shiver racking through him.

“Hey, you remembered the sleeping bag trick.” he pointed out proudly as he pulled fresh underwear from his bag and pulled them on, not even bothering to dry off first. 

“Of course I did. How could I forget? Here, dry off before you get into my expensive sleeping bags.” you told him as you tossed another fresh towel his way with a chuckle. He beamed at you, doing what you asked before launching himself at you.

You both crawled underneath the sleeping bags, him wrapping his arms around you and pulling you into his chest, your legs intertwining. He was cold to the touch, but you didn’t care. Not as long as it was him beside you and no one else. You kissed his chest tenderly, hand resting along his abdomen as his fingers ran along your back underneath your giant sweatshirt.

“Wait a minute,” Jungkook said, pushing you away from him, making your heart seemingly stop in panic. “Is that my sweatshirt?!” he exclaimed, a sigh of relief leaving you and then a laugh. “Yes, it is.” he pouted his lower lip at you, then pulled you back to your place on his chest.

“You always were a thief. Stealing my heart and my sweatshirts.” you laughed so loud you snorted, covering your mouth with your hand. “Could you get any cheesier, Jeon Jungkook?” he craned his head to look down at you, smiling widely.

“As much and as long as you’ll let me, Tempest.” you tilted your chin, leaning upwards to kiss him lovingly.

“I can live with that.”

“Tempest! You made it!!” Jimin screeched, running towards you at full speed with his arms open wide. You laughed as he hugged you much more gently than you had anticipated him to. “Of course I did, I wouldn’t miss it.” you pointed out after he pulled away.

“I brought a little someone along with me too.” you informed him happily. “I know you did!” Jimin dropped to the dirt and began kissing your well rounded tummy, making you smack him on the head jokingly.

“That’s not what I meant, Jimin! I brought Kookie!” you exclaimed, dragging him to his feet, his eyes looking behind you to find Jungkook with his arms full of camping gear, but a wide smile on his face regardless.

Once he reached your side, he dropped your things and quickly wrapped an arm around your waist and brought you to him, his lips landing on yours, filling you with all the love he had to give to you in one simple kiss. He kissed your forehead before winding his arm around your shoulders, snuggling you into his side.

“If I didn’t love the two of you together, you would make me physically sick right now.” Yoongi complained, a smirk on those pouty lips. 

“I know, Yoongi. I know.” Jungkook replied, giving the top of your head one last kiss before picking up your things and taking it to your spot for the weekend.

“We’re glad you’re here, Temp. Together.” Jimin told you, kissing your hand before walking away. “Me too, Jimin.” you whispered as he walked away.

Your eyes wandered around the campsite, looking at the six men who had molded you into the woman you were today, appreciating each one of them individually. You had no idea how you had spent so many years without their company, because it was hard to imagine it at this point. Not after the year you had just spent with Jungkook and them. 

Your life had always been missing something without them.

“I told you.” Yoongi’s voice startled you, head turning in his direction as he stood beside you now. “Told me what?” you questioned as you slipped your hand into his, him eagerly intertwining your fingers.

“I told you Jungkook was your type.” you both chuckled, looking out over all of your friends. “Yeah, you did. You were right, Min Yoongi.” you admitted willingly.

“I always am.”

[our-jensen-ackles-love]

Flashes; Chapter Eleven

Summary: Playboy Jensen Ackles is hurting his television show’s image. Every time he promised to get his act together, it’d last for about a week before pictures emerge of him half-drunk with some broad on his arm. Fed up and desperate, his agent decides their only hope to save some face is to write up a contract with a nobody girl who could use the money while getting to play the role of Jensen’s girlfriend.

It was only for a year and it was only for the photos.�� But feelings don’t always follow the rules, do they?

Word Count: 1945 

Warnings: Angst, lots of it. 

CATCH UP HERE FEEDBACK MAKES ME WRITE.

Chapter Eleven

“Oh, good,” Momma poked her head in from around the corner. If you had to take a wild guess, you figured that would be where the dining room was located. “I was starting to think we would have to send someone else up there to get the two of ya.”

You couldn’t help, but blush at her words.

Jensen tore his harsh gaze away from Danneel, giving your hand a small squeeze before letting go and heading over in his mother’s direction. “Ma, no amount of lovin’ could keep me away from your fried chicken.”

Now you knew your cheeks were flaming.

You didn’t have to look to know that Danneel had her sights on you, probably tearing you apart to pieces in her mind, just like you were sure every girl did when another picture was posted of you and Jensen together. Instead of pretending like she didn’t exist, you turned towards her and offered up the biggest smile you could manage.

“Oh, Danneel, right?” You asked, taking a step closer while extending your hand in her direction. “I’m Y/N.”

She eyeballed your hand like the simple gesture would transform into a rabid dog that was out to bite her. Cautiously, you noticed her dark burgundy eyes wander to where Jensen was standing with his mother in quiet conversation.

“Yeah,” was all she said before flipping his hair behind her shoulder. If you didn’t know any better, you could guess that this night was going to go something like a scene from a popular teen girl rom com. “I know who you are.”

“Then you know that I’m Jensen’s girlfriend.”

Her thin lips formed into a sly looking smirk. She stole another glance at Jensen’s direction while Mackenzie walked into the dining room with what looked like several dark pieces of cloth. “Only for now.”

Something bubbled in your chest at her words. “Excuse me?”

That little smile didn’t leave her face, “You’re just going to be like the rest of them. Jay will only keep you around until you bore him.”

In that moment, Jensen was at your side. “Y/N,” he said breathlessly like he had rushed to get to you. You saw him from your peripherals, looking from you to Danneel then back – it was like he was trying to read what had already been said in the quiet between us. “Table’s all set.”

Danneel stood up so slow that even you got a good shot of her cleavage before she went sashaying her hips into the other room. Not the kind of person to resort to violence, you were getting really close to launching yourself at her and pulling a scene out of Mean Girls where you just went all animal kingdom on her smug, irrelevant face.

“Hey,” Jensen’s voice came through the storm cloud of fury that was raging in your head. “Remember to keep that war face strong.”

Your head whipped over to look him, his eyes searching you carefully while his fingers gripped your chin lightly, making sure that you couldn’t look anywhere but at him. Despite the way your insides were twisting at having to break bread with that woman, you cracked a small grin. “Are you using my words against me?”

He shrugged, releasing you from his grasp, but keeping his eyes on you cautiously. “Am I really using it against you if it’s sound advice to begin with?”

“Wow, Ackles.”

After another careful smile was shared between the two of you, he reached down and grabbed your hand before playfully dragging you along to the dining room. The long, rectangular table had been set with something similar to wedding china; the kind that was white with specs of dark blue and gold, tall glasses filled to the brim with what looked like iced tea and the food was plated throughout the middle.

The big plate of fried chicken was calling your name front and center.

Like the southern gentleman you were getting to know, Jensen led you to your chair, pulling it out for you to sit before scooting you closer to the table. “Now ya’ll don’t be shy,” Momma said from the top of the table. “I made enough food to feed a whole fleet.”

Once Jensen was sitting and Danneel was adjusted directly across from you where she was basically eye fucking the man next to you, did the proper introductions start. At one end of the table sat Jensen’s father who insisted that you call him Alan - no matter what, then Joshua sat caddy corner to his father with his best friend Barrett who sat opposite of him. Mackenzie was sitting next to Danneel, passing the spinach salad towards you while Jensen said something that made his mother whack his arm playfully. Cliff was apparently still sleeping and Momma didn’t want to wake him, but she made sure to mention that Josh would have to bring him a plate of food when he did make his way upstairs.

Despite Jensen’s ex-girlfriend being there, the whole environment made you feel like you were home. There was a lot going on a once, from Alan asking for more fried chicken to Jensen focusing all of his attention on making sure that your plate was full at all times, to the small chatter than Kenzie was trying to make with their guest.

“So remember when I said that I hoped you got fat on this trip?” You asked before Jensen gave you a chuckle and a slight nod while shoveling more mashed potatoes onto his own plate. “I didn’t mean that you could take me down with you.”

The tip of his thumb was in his mouth as he was licking up a bit of the leftover mash that had escaped the bowl, but that wink that he gave you made you want to melt into your chair.

“So I saw the interview Jay,” Danneel spoke for the first time since dinner had started. Her voice was even, like she had been preparing this speech for quite some time, but her focus was on strategically stabbing the pieces of spinach salad before her. “There seemed to be a lot of questions about us.”

A silence fell over the whole table.

In the quiet, your mind wandered back to that night that he came stumbling home drunk making your heart hurt for the man next to you. Instantly, your hand reached between the chairs and grabbed his, which had been tightly clamped into a fist in his lap.

“Dee,” Kenzie hissed at the woman next to her, stealing a sorrowful glance at her brother. “You promised you wouldn’t bring that up.”

Her shoulder rose and fell with a half assed shrug, never taking her eyes off of Jensen. You weren’t even sure if she had blinked since stating her piece. “Maybe I have my own questions.”

Jensen, who had finally released some of the tension in his hand enough that he grabbed your own and gave it an aggressive squeeze before he stood up from the table, his knees bumping the edge in the process. You half-drunk glass of iced tea almost toppled over, but you managed to catch it just before the worst could happen – making an even bigger mess of this night.  

He towered over where you were sitting, breaking eye contact with the bitch who sat across from you. “Ma, I think it’s time I excuse myself.”

It was evident that everyone around the table was a little put out by these proceedings. Momma cleared her throat before offering her son a forced smile. “Are you sure darlin’? I made some pie for dessert.”

Jay veered over his mother’s chair and kissed her forehead. The action itself was a polar opposite of what was probably gnawing away on his insides. “Save me a slice.”

You had barely been able to get out a thank you before Jensen almost tore your arm off when he made contact with your body again. The rest of the house, that you had yet to see, blurred by quickly as you were hurried up the stairs. In record time, you found yourself back in Jensen’s room with him standing before you with an hazy look overshadowing his forest green eyes.

No words were spoken prior to his lips finding yours for the second time that night.

Jensen’s body pushed into yours, like he was trying to mold himself into you. His body caged you in between the wooden door and his hard chest - his kisses came urgent, devouring your mouth like you were the only slice of heaven he needed right now.

Those same lips were starting to cloud your judgment about what was happening. His mouth was making it’s slow descend down towards your collarbone and you couldn’t help, but close your eyes as he continued on his way. Your hands made their way into his hair, tugging gently enough that you could bring his focus back to your face.

He broke contact with you, breathing heavily while his eyes searched yours for permission to continue. Damn, did you really want to continue. “Jensen?”

“Yeah?” He asked leaning down to nip at the corner of your mouth causing your to groan internally; the man was doing things to you.

“Is this really a good idea?”

As he continued to lean over, your bodies still pressed together and your labored breath filling the momentary silence, you watched him continue to look over your face like he was searching for the answer. “Probably not,” he mumbled, releasing you.

With an slow step backwards, you had a little more breathing room to get your head on straight. “Don’t get me wrong,” you started seeing the look of rejection flicker across Jensen’s face. “I want this.”

His eyes lit up. “But?”

You chewed your bottom lip while choosing your words carefully. “But, don’t you think you are just acting on impulse right now? Out of anger at Danneel?”

Jensen looked at you, his eyes roaming from the top of your head all the way down to your toes. You would have sold your soul to the devil right then and there to get a piece of what was running through his head.

When his eyes found yours again, he spoke with intention in his words. “Only a little.”

Your insides squeezed at his answer, but you still didn’t trust that he actually wanted you right now. Like that he honestly to god wanted you. There was no way that his sudden actions weren’t being influenced by the fact that his ex-girlfriend was sitting downstairs at the family table right that very minute.

Jensen stepped closer to you, closing in on your personal space. With the same gesture from earlier, he grabbed your chin gently. “But, I think we probably should just get some sleep and see what tomorrow holds for us, okay?”

You managed a slow nod. “Okay.”

After all was said and done, you found yourself in the darkness of the bedroom, wearing a pair of sweatpants and a tank top while a shirtless Jensen was laying awfully still next to you. Your mind started to wander, focusing mainly on the fact that the man next to you said that he wanted you, but you had been wondering if that was genuine or not.

As that thought kept circling over and over, Jensen rolled over and threw an arm over your waist. You felt him snuggle up close to your warm body which in turned caused you to relax before reminding yourself that this was all fake.

Who was to say that these feelings weren’t fake too?

TAGS: @supernatural-bellawinchester, @luciathewinchestergirl, @supernatural-teamfreewillpage, @nanie5, @kbl1313, @wanderer-08, @squirrelnotsam, @allonsy-yesiwill, @mirandaaustin93, @jerkbitchidjitassbutt @docharleythegeekqueen @sandlee44 @chameleah86 @dean-is-my-superhero @hellolarry34 @internationalmusicteacher @maralisa124 @spn-ficfanatic @mannls @like-a-bag-of-potatoes @angelessquirrel @appleslicesandmustard @ilovesebastianstanmore @mlovesstories @aeonian-forever @faithfullpanicmoon @shawtygonemad @itssmallerontheoutside-13 @theplaidshirtmadness @laqueus-ludovicus @jhudawnareeves @applepielyf @gemini75eeyore @missbosstown @kristina818 @hayleighr4 @superwhomerlockinuum @ria132love @shutupiminlooove @imaginationisgrowth @thatbandchick39 @spnwoman @deangetsme @satanwithapencil @dramione-winchester-mccall @monkeymcpoopoo @in-tenebris-ad-astra @just-ladyme @juniorhuntersam @ineedhelpmovingtobostonmatoteach  @ravenangel33 @iamabeautifulperson18 @chocolateturtlepeanutopera @xalgaliareptx @snffbeebee @laurenw1025 @sweetlythoughtfulbird @winchesterjude @thebeautywithinme

[quatschmachen]

Tangles

A small late Christmas Monmonton fic. Takes place in 1984.

Masterpost

XXXXX

Outside the wind was blowing the cold snow across the street, whipping the drifts across the sidewalk, where a once cleanly shoveled pavement was once again covered in the light crystalline fluff not yet crushed underfoot of passersby.

Inside the home the tree was fresh, standing there bare, slightly pulled out from the corner, close to the crackling fireplace. It seemed rather forlorn amongst the festively decorated house, where popcorn garlands and handmade stockings hung.

Across the room Étienne and Samuel had entered into a heated argument as to how to decorate the tree. Edward was helping Jacques put the bubble lights on, or more honestly, untangle the bubble lights and test them. Somehow in detangling, the lights had wrapped around his elbow with one of the bubblers poking him in the bicep.

<Let me help you with that,> Jacques said as he gently lay down his section to untangle Edward.

<Tell me… do they always do that?> Edward nodded to where Étienne had grabbed the box of ornaments and was holding them hostage to an ever increasingly angry Samuel.

<Oh yes. Samuel wants the pure aesthetic of themed coloured ornaments, Étienne wants memories.>

<So… what happens?>

Jacques took a moment to respond, as he worked out one of the more complicated tangles.

<Usually Samuel ends up winning, but somehow during the middle of the night, all the old ornaments also get put on… a mystery.>

<Why do they need to fight if it’s the same result each year?> Edward was feeling like a fish out of water having come to this intimate family gathering. He was still baffled as to why they had invited him, but anything to escape the awkward Christmas with Edith he would take. Christmases at his place had never been the same since his time in the asylum.  He sensed that Edith had been privately relieved as well when he had informed her of his invitation to elsewhere.  The invitation elsewhere which originally had meant to only be him at Étienne’s, a planned out event of relaxing while Étienne moaned on about some artist he had to read about in class, or excitedly jabber on about some weird modern art style he had just learnt about. Ever since Étienne had gotten it into his head to get an MA in art history – and actually got into the school, Edward had noticed a gradual change in the other man, where once there had been an odd vacancy of interest, a renewed spark had taken hold.  Étienne had one more semester before he graduated, and Edward was very… proud, mixed with something else.

What he had assumed would be a private Christmas actually meant going to Trois-Rivières for the ‘family shindig’, a change in plans which he had not mentally prepared for. How the hell would he be explained? Étienne had waved off all his concerns informing him that ‘Suzette was the best’ and ‘we always bring friends over so its not a problem’ followed by ‘you really need to try Suzette’s tourtière’.

So he was here, the lost stranger amongst the tight knit family, talking to what could tentatively be called the patriarch. He had not figured out the other man, he was reserved, not at all like his two brothers, perhaps a little more like Élyse in nature.  

Jacques shrugged as he gently released Edward’s arm from the lights, <It’s how they say they love each other.>

Étienne was loudly screeching because Samuel had swiped the box from him, followed by thumping as Samuel quickly ran from the room.

<Love, huh? Almost sounds like a murder.> Edward joked, pleased to see a small smile appear on the other man’s face. Love was the reason why he was here, sitting with the brother, keeping distances between him and Étienne. Somehow being here was making everything around him seem real, where in private he could dream that the man he loved could return a feeling, being plunked down into this scenario made everything that wasn’t apparent.  Consciously he did not touch the other man, he lived in absolute fear that the family would suspect something. The something that wasn’t there. The something that had twisted him, the thing that tormented him. What the hell would he do if anyone asked if he and Étienne were… more than friends? Lie of course, lie bald faced to the sweet-cheeked Suzette, ‘no, just old friends’, where the lie was mostly truth, the most effective tool to bury down the truths not meant for the waking day.

<We should test before we wrap,> Jacques said as he plugged it in, distracting Edward from the pandemonium in the next room. There was that moment of anticipation, a brief flash, and then a gentle pop.

<Oh no, the blue bulb.> Edward automatically said.

<Don’t worry, I have replacements…> almost proudly, Jacques produced a small box. Methodically he tested each and every bulb, found the culprit and replaced it.  The care with which Jacques did the action, the satisfaction on his face as the lights once more flickered on, his face suddenly reflected in blue, twisted Edward’s stomach. He hated it, but he was jealous. Adjusting his glasses, Edward shifted away, trying to quell these unpleasant feelings. Mechanically he helped Jacques wrap the tree in the lights, pricking himself in the process, thankfully not drawing any blood. Standing back, Jacques surveyed the tree, making small adjustments to the lights, until he nodded in satisfaction.  

Looking at Edward he said, <Now we let the two hyenas fight over the decorations… do you want some eggnog?>

<Sure...> Rubbing his hands on his corduroy pants, Edward followed Jacques into the kitchen, where Suzette was putting together some of the meal for the next day. As she placed the lid on the dish, she let out a sound of surprise as Jacques snuck up from behind and wrapped her in his arms, giving her a kiss on her neck.

<Jacques!>

<My love, that ham looks divine. What did you use in the marinade this year?>

<Nutmeg, cinnamon, brown sugar….> she began listing off, before she noticed Edward awkwardly standing halfway in the kitchen, almost ready to flee.  <Édouard, did you want some eggnog?>

<Yes.>

<Please make yourself at home, the cups are there, and the eggnog is warm on the stove. Élyse made it, her special recipe.>

<O-ok.> quickly Edward found himself a mug, and hastily ladled some of the warm alcoholic liquid into it, before making a hasty exit not wishing to see any more of what he could not have.

The hallway wasn’t well lit, and as his wool socks slid slightly on that gap where the wood floor peeked out from the rug, Edward warmed his hands on the mug and looked at the photos on the wall.  All the frames were the same, a nice medium brown wood, with different images of the family. It looked as if they had recently had a professional photograph taken, as that one was pride of place amongst the constellations of smaller images around it. There was an image of Suzette and Jacques under a tree, hands clasped as they looked at each other deep in conversation, whoever had taken that photograph seemed to know the exact moment to capture, a moment where the sun was shining, the soft dapple of the leaf shadows around them, haloing a couple deeply in love.

Taking a sip of the cinnamon rum eggnog, he swallowed the creamy mixture, licking his lips as he glanced over the photo of Élyse wearing the hugest hair bow he had ever seen in his entire life, an image of Samuel posing dramatically on some stone stairs, and then one of Étienne wearing some ridiculous pompom sweater. Another photo of Étienne and Élyse at the Montreal Olympics, wearing the official jacket smiling in front of the flame, eyes alight with pride.  This house, Edward realized, served as the heart of this strange family nucleus, where Jacques, though quiet and never one much to be noticed, was the anchor. What would it be like to have that back home? He wondered.

A place for people to gather, feel safe, be happy together. He hadn’t had that in a long time, and his mind drifted to his family. Edith who was spending Christmas with some friends, Mac, hell when had he actually had a good sit down visit with him? Calvin? He wasn’t really family, plus he was busy annoying the hell out of Caroline and whoever else had the misfortune to be in his festive Christmas proximity. His thoughts were broken when he heard something fall to the floor in the other room, followed by Étienne letting out a string of very serious curses.

Curiously he made his way to the living room where he saw Étienne on the floor holding something, tears in his eyes as he continued to shout at Samuel who was looking down at him with a rather nasty expression.

<Relax baby brother, that decoration never really fit in with the theme anyway, that little piece of ugly… “art…” as you call it, was never worth much anyway, I think it looks better like that.> Samuel responded in a not at all comforting manner.

Was Jacques really sure this is how they expressed love for each other? Edward thought. To him it just looked like a terrible relationship. Samuel had turned his back on Étienne and was beginning to decorate the tree. As he once more looked to Étienne, Edward realized that he was in fact starting to sob rather hard. What the hell had broke? His legs were moving before he had even considered that it might be bad to walk into this situation, and he crouched next to the other man.

<Bouclés?> he said softly, <Do you want to come to the dining table with me? Bring the ornament.>

Étienne looked at him, face red from crying, then looked at the ground trying to see if he had missed any pieces. Edward also looked, finding a small wire, and an odd ball. He looked at the ornament in Étienne’s hand, and then, when Étienne confirmed they had all the pieces, he followed Edward to the dining room, carefully laying out the broken pieces on the wooden table. Sitting down, he placed his mug on the table with a thud, and looked at it frowning in thought. Étienne had quieted down slightly, watching him.

<Do you have some needle-nose pliers and glue here?> Edward asked, his thoughts shifting to the ornament, moving the parts around.  Finally before him was something he could do. He was good with his hands, with fixing what needed to be fixed. Years of necessity had taught him to repair. This ornament, while probably never going to be perfect, was doable.  

<Uh—yeah.> Étienne disappeared, returning quickly with the asked for items.  He handed them to Edward, then once more sat on the chair nearby, knees drawn up to his chin as he intently watched the other man work.

Edward felt sort of guilty for having avoided the other man ever since they had got to this house, guilty about being sort of snappy when he had been shown Étienne’s room – asking where he would sleep, and having a minor freak-out until Étienne had rolled his eyes and showed him the pullout couch in the den next to his bedroom.  He probably shouldn’t have done that, but there was nothing to do about it now. He could feel the other man’s eyes upon his hands, and he hoped that maybe repairing this ornament could make up for his mood earlier.

The only sound in the dining room was the tick-tock of the grandfather clock out in the hallway.

<So… this goes here, right?> Edward asked.

<Yes… but a little like…> Étienne reached out, his fingers brushing against Edward’s as he shifted the ball.

It took every inch of willpower not to automatically pull away, to relax into the brief touch. No one would suspect anything from such an innocent moment, even if secretly his heart was pounding. Trying not to sound shaky, Edward asked, <So I glue it like this?>

<Yeah.>  

Edward glued the piece into place, and then looked up at the other man with a wry expression, as he held it. <Looks like I might be here for a while, I should have thought this through. This is a Calder piece, isn’t it?>

<How did you know?>

<Bouclés, who else is known for making cool mobiles and was featured at Expo 67? Of course the moment you saw this tiny mobile you had to get it.>

Letting out a snort, Étienne mumbled, <Well I think we might have interfered with the artistic intent… probably won’t move as it should now… but thanks for fixing it.>

<Oh ye of little faith,> Edward responded, then, <Hey, can you like… hold up my eggnog so I can drink it?>

It took a little awkward positioning, but finally, the mug was held up enough and Edward managed a sip.

<This is gonna take a while of me holding it together, so why don’t you entertain me? Tell me something interesting.> Edward prompted, knowing that if he had to sit in silence for the next twenty minutes next to the man he should not touch he would go absolutely mad.

Étienne’s face lit up. <Yeah! This semester I took a class on surrealist art and when it comes to Magritte…> his voice droned on as he enthusiastically informed Edward all about this artist, and how he had adopted some of the techniques discussed into some of his own paintings (paintings which Edward had yet to see manifest.)

Nodding along, Edward made the appropriate comments, genuinely interested, but also halfway trying not to lean into the other man. Whenever that urge got too strong, he would get Étienne to hold up his eggnog, taking that movement to gather himself.

After another twenty minutes, Edward set the piece down onto the table. <This probably shouldn’t be moved until tomorrow. Let the glue cure.>

<But… how am I supposed decorate with it to save the tree from the boring Christmas aesthetic Samuel is subjecting it to?>

<Bouclés, just wake up early,> Edward rolled his eyes and then let out a sound of surprise as Étienne was suddenly much closer, back of his hand brushing warm against his cheek, as Étienne leant forward and whispered.

<That’s usually tough to do with you around.>

<We’re not sharing the same bed,> Edward hissed, <I thought we covered I’m sleeping on the pull-out couch downstairs?>

<You haven’t slept on that pull-out couch…> Étienne replied ominously as he quickly pulled away as the sound of someone walking drew closer.

Élyse peeked in, <Oh that’s where you two are. C’mon, it’s Christmas carols.>

[dazzlinglux]

Let it Snow → Delux

Who: @dazzlinglux and @deliajubilee

When: Sometime during Winter break 

Where: The Winter Woods

What: Lux notices something up with DJ and in his quest to find out what’s wrong, they get snowed in!

Lux was feeling a little drained. The Winter Woods were nice when he wanted to fly around and dodge snowballs with Ember for a few hours, but with this snowstorm, there was no sun out, and therefor, no light. So Lux's powers were weak, and when his powers were weak, so was he. He'd been waiting for DJ to come back and join him before crossing back over to Pixie Hollow, lying on a tree branch keeping his wings warm before he saw her zip past him with ridiculous speed and force, toward the home tree. He'd never been in the Winter Woods' home tree, so following her felt like some sort of invasion of privacy, but he couldn't just sit back and wonder what had her so angry....or sad....or whatever. Lux followed, calling out for her, but she ignored him. He flew faster, trying to catch up, until they were neck-and-neck and both zoomed through the front door at the same time. Their bodies both hit the back wall of her house, shaking the branch just slightly, but enough to where a large pile of snow fell from the branch just above it, and landed in front of the door. Lux jimmied the doorknob and tried to push against it, but just as he'd feared, they were stuck. "Okay, so that's definitely your fault," he was quick to accuse, suddenly feeling a sort of anxiety about being literally trapped in the Winter Woods for however much longer. 

Delia J had been really trying her best to maintain some degree of chill when dealing with her sister during the holidays. After all, it wasn't like Dagny had SET OUT to sleep with the guy Delia J had been crushing on for practically ever. Especially since the only people DJ ever even told about the crush were her best friends. But that still didn't help the deep feeling of rage and betrayal she felt every time she so much as glanced at the other girl, and since Dj wasn't even a little skilled at not giving away exactly how she felt at any given time, she'd practically been a ticking time bomb as she and Dagny spent time with their father as he made his rounds around the winter woods. It only took one direct question from Dagny about something innocuous like pine cones for Delia J to blow up and dramatically take off flying for home. In her little self centered bubble of rage she'd barely even noticed, or even really processed that Lux had followed her at some point until they were both hitting the back wall. Kicking hard at the door, Delia J glared up at Lux through red tear filled eyes and put her hands on her hips. "How is it definitely my fault? I'm not heavy enough to knock snow down like what, it was you just as much, if not more than me. Where'd you even come from anyway? No one asked you to be here." 

Lux scoffed, crossing his arms over his chest defiantly, as if she wasn’t totally right. He hated that she usually was. “Well if you hadn’t been flying like a madwoman, I wouldn’t have followed you!” he retorted, before giving a sigh at her question. “I came over here with Ember and she went home and I knew you were over here, so I decided to wait til you crossed over to go back,” he shrugged, as if that’s what anyone would say when asked that question. He really looked at her then, catching a glimpse of her red-rimmed eyes, and furrowed his brow. “What happened? What were you flying away from?” he asked, his tone going slightly more tender than anticipated. 

Delia J rolled her eyes and scoffed right back. "Did you even think to consider that I might have been flying like a madwoman because fast flying is my literal talent?" She asked, raising an eyebrow when he said that he was waiting for her to go back to the warm side of pixie hollow. "That was completely unnecessary, I was just with my sister. Dagny doesn't care about who I'm pretending to date." She tripped slightly over her sisters name as she remembered exactly what she'd been flying from. Rubbing her eyes as if it would help at all with the redness or the tears that were still welling up in them, DJ turned back to the door and fruitlessly began kicking it again in an attempt to escape. "None of your business. I came here to be by myself, not to talk to you about it. " 

Lux mirrored her eyeroll, crossing his arms over his chest. "I know y--" He hesitated to say that he knew her well enough to know that she had to have been running from something. He could just tell. "I know you weren't just flying to fly, okay?" Lux furrowed his brow, a little taken aback that she thought his gesture was part of their 'fake dating' thing. "Okay, I know Dagny doesn't care -- I was waiting for you cause you're my friend, I guess," he shrugged. He'd be lying if he said that he hadn't grown slightly fond of DJ in this time that they'd been 'dating'. She was cool, and feisty, and he enjoyed their downtime together almost as much as he enjoyed bickering with her. He watched her rub at her eyes some more, and continue to deflect. "Well, unless someone comes over here with like five shovels, you're stuck with me. You might as well talk to me about it." 

Delia J couldn't help but raise her eyebrows in mild surprise at Lux saying that they were friends, even though she'd made a couple of pals in Lyssa and Clementine, after years of only having Alicia and Kale as her friends, she couldn't get over the suprise of anyone else calling her their friend. "Oh...Well you still didn't need to follow me" She huffed, kicking hard at the door one last time before finally walking away from it. Delia paused to think about whether or not she wanted to tell Lux about what happened, and after about half a second realized that he'd probably get what made her so upset more than anyone else she knew. Sniffling once and shoving her hands into her pockets, DJ turned to face Lux. "Well okay...remember when Sage had sex with some guy out of nowhere in the middle of homecoming? Well, my sister apparently slept with the boy I've been crushing on pretty much forever...on my birthday." 

Lux gave a soft laugh at the girl's way of handling this situation by kicking at the door, letting her get the last word in before she let him in on why she was flying away so emotionally. Lux sat on the floor, wrapping his arms around his knees, feeling constricted in his winter coat, but hey -- if he didn't want his wings to freeze off, this was what he had to deal with. She started off by relating what was eating her to his disastrous homecoming experience, at first confusing him even more, but then when she elaborated, his jaw dropped. "Oh." Lux said aloud, scooting over to make room for her to sit next to him if she so pleased. "I'm -- that's -- that sucks like, ten times worse than what happened to me at homecoming, I'm sorry," he shook his head, still in disbelief that Dagny would do something like that to her. "Wait -- does she know that you like him? Cause if so, that's fucked-up times twenty and she is officially #NotMyPrincess," he proclaimed, even pronouncing the 'hashtag' for emphasis. 

Delia J watched Lux scoot over to make room for her to sit, but remained standing in order to look for a way to heat the room up so that she and Lux wouldn't be stuck waiting all confined their coats. "It's fine. She didn't know. He's older than me, so I never really feel the need to talk about it with her. So she can still be your hashtag princess." Delia J shrugged half heartedly, before giving up and sitting down next to Lux. "It's just super hard to deal with her right now when I'm so upset about something that I can't ever blame her for doing. Apparently he's been sleeping on her couch and that's a way too romantic a set up to resist not hooking up." 

Lux grimaced. Still, even if DJ had no shot with the guy, she must have been feeling like shit about this. "Well, either way, that's shitty, and even shittier that it happened on your birthday -- who gets laid on their little sister's birthday?" He gagged just thinking of spending Ember's birthday boning someone. What a weird thing to be thinking about at a time like that. But, he supposed, that whole party was just wild. When she sat next to him, Lux couldn't help but laugh at her claim. "Oh, yeah, bumming on someone's couch is so hot," he said sarcastically, "Whoever he is, he sounds like the sexiest hobo around." Lux smirked, hoping his jokes at her lame crush's expense would help the situation somehow. 

Delia J laughed in spite of herself at Lux's reaction to Dagny having sex on her birthday. "I know right? But Dagny and M-the guy I like apparently do." DJ said, shrugging and focusing her attention on retying the laces of her boot. "Not the bumming on the couch part really. But being in such close contact with someone as nice and attractive as he is everyday? Hobo-ish or not, it makes a lot of sense why it happened. " 

Lux scrunched his nose. "What a way to celebrate your life. Through one of life's simplest pleasures," he joked, noticing DJ start to get a little more comfortable with herself in this situation. It must have still sucked, but at least she was laughing. He gave a shrug, continuing to hug his knees as he watched Delia J retie her shoelaces. "Proximity attraction doesn't count as real attraction," he thought aloud, offering his two cents though she didn't ask for them. "Well, my piece of advice -- since I've been through this kind of -- is that it sucks for a while, and then you find other, better things to be concerned about." He shrugged, leaning his back against the wall as he remembered how it felt getting smacked in the face by reality at homecoming. He hated that DJ had to feel the same way, but if she was anything like him (resilient and stubborn, which he knew she was), she'd channel all of these emotions into something worth caring about. For example, he delved into preserving his reputation. 

Delia J finished tying her shoes and dug her hands around in the pockets of her jacket for any kind of distraction to focus on while they were trapped there. "I'm aware. It just makes it a little worse that she tainted my birthday with something that wasn't even slightly real. " She muttered quietly, moving her hands into the pockets of her pants instead of her coat. "What other better things do you have to be concered about now?" 

Lux scrunched up his nose. "I mean, it's only tainted in retrospect! You had a nice time on the day, right?" he asked. They'd practically been glued to each other's sides at that party, so maybe she hadn't had a nice time if it had to be spent with him. But he thought she had. Lux gave a shrug. He hadn't really had anything in mind when he said that, but things had just been....better lately, when he was so sure he'd feel heartbroken forever. "I mean, prom king prep...This whole thing -- " he gestured vaguely to the two of them, " -- keeps me busy and keeps my mind off of things, so I guess there's that, too." 

Delia J sighed out loud when she found nothing interesting in any of her pockets but nail polish and either unable or just unwilling to sit still, moved to sit criss cross instead of with her legs straight out. "I guess." She admitted, fiddling with her zipper a little. "I don't really like parties and there's was that whole Kale and Ember being the worst thing. But for the most part it was pretty good." Delia J frowned and pursed her lips to consider if their little arrangement would even be helpful in keeping her mind off Marsh when he was most of the reason she agreed to do it in the first place. "This thing doesn't make you think about Sage sometimes though? After all she is the whole reason you had to resort to going for pity prom votes." 

Lux felt a soft puff of air leave his nose in a chuckle, remembering the way Kale and Ember basically pressured them to kiss at the party, knowing they weren't real so really just to mess with them. "I mean, we probably would've had to kiss eventually anyway," Lux scrunched his nose, "Maybe it's good that we got that out of the way." He couldn't relate to her not liking parties -- Parties were one of the only things that made Lux feel as important as he imagined he was. He was always the life of the party, making sure there were never any dull moments. When DJ brought up Sage, Lux couldn't ignore the slight pang in his chest at her name. "No, actually," he said honestly, "At least, I don't feel as shitty as I did before when I do think about her. I guess I'm kind of getting over it. You're a good distraction." he shrugged, giving DJ's knee a nudge with his snow boot. "So we're stuck here til someone realizes we've been missing...Are you alright now?" His words were genuine, and the soft expression on his face said so. 

Delia J nodded, Kale had said the exact same thing already, so she'd pretty much already accepted the kiss had been basicslly inevitable. "I know, but I still think I would've preferred having actual time to get my head around kissing a boy for the first time. I'm not really the spur of the moment type, y'know?" DJ shrugged and pulled her hat down over her ears. DJ was surprised and a little relieved when Lux admitted that he wasn't constantly thinking about Sage. Partially because it gave her hope that she'd stop feeling quite so terrible about Marsh banging her sister while she was supposed to be pretending to like a completely different boy. But mostly (and surprisingly) she was happy that Lux who she was slowly but surely beginning to view as a friend wasn't feeling so bad anymore and she'd had a hand in helping with that. "Oh! That's awesome! I'm totally holding you to return the favor, just so you know." She grinned slightly, nudging his boot back with her knee. "I think my dad and sister or Kale and Alicia should be looking for me by now." She said hopefully, sticking her hands into her pockets again. "Well I'm not crying anymore, so I think I am. Except now I'm just really bored sitting here like this and I don't really know what to do. " DJ pulled the little bottle of dark blue shimmering nail polish from her pocket. "Can I paint your nails? That would be a good start with you returning the distraction favor?" 

Lux tried not to let the shock that their kiss at the party had been DJ's first. He knew she'd probably hate if he made a big deal out of it, or even questioned it, so he just nodded. "....Yeah. It's a good thing I'm impulsive enough for the both of us," he smirked, still a little freaking out about having been her first kiss without even knowing. He noticed the way she seemed to be genuinely happy that he called her a distraction, and felt himself match her grin. "Hey, if anyone's down to be distracting, it's me!" he exclaimed, gesturing to himself before giving a laugh. Glad that DJ was feeling better, Lux was about to offer ways to keep busy til they got found -- among his ideas were 'play charades' and 'have a dance party' so, luckily, she thought of her own idea on the spot. He furrowed his brow at her offer, before letting out a laugh and taking his hands out of his pockets, splaying his fingers out for her. "Sure. I can't say no to glitter, I guess," he shrugged nonchalantly but unable to keep a wide smile from appearing on his face. Anyone who knew them knew that they were an odd pair, that was for sure, but he found himself feeling that they might make a better team than anyone could have ever guessed.