#this one's been answered a few ways for a few years since SOTS

[levynite]

KUALA LUMPUR: The tiny and sombre young woman in the red long-sleeved blouse – one of only two she had with her – hung back while her three towering male friends laughed boisterously and talked animatedly outside a restaurant in the border town of Mae Sot, Thailand.

The group of young adults – their ages ranging from 19 to 25 – had reason to be joyful. A few days before on Feb 3, they were rescued from KK Garden, located on the Myanmar side of the Myanmar-Thai border. KK Garden’s giant compound has been making the news lately as the base for several scamming centres where hundreds of trafficked Malaysians were reportedly forced to work as online scammers.

Nur Fitriani Abdullah, more commonly known as Fi, remained largely quiet throughout dinner, answering questions posed to her politely but did not volunteer any extra information. It took several meetings before she finally warmed up enough to smile and talk.

Coming from a broken home, the 19-year-old told Bernama she was used to being on her own. The diminutive Batu Pahat native has been forced to support herself since her grandfather, who had been her guardian, passed away over a year ago. His death also forced her to drop out of school without sitting for her Sijil Pelajaran Malaysia examination.

So when she saw a Facebook advertisement looking for Malaysians to work in housekeeping at a hotel in Singapore for US$1,100 (RM4,923), it seemed like an answer to her prayers.

“(Because of) Singapore and the big salary, I thought okay, I can try doing this job. I decided to go on my own. If okay, then I would ask my boyfriend to join me,” she said.

Instead, her 25-year-old boyfriend Kamil Abdul Hamid decided to come along. Without a passport, she and Kamil were smuggled into Thailand across the Golok River and then the Moei River that runs between Myanmar and Thailand in mid-September 2022.

Her tale largely echoes that of others from Malaysia and other countries who ended up in Cambodia, Laos or Myanmar after answering fraudulent job advertisements or love appeals online.

While job or love scams and the trafficking of people falling for them are not a new problem, the methods used and locations of the victims and victimisers have changed with the times. With the advent of social media and digital technology and Covid-19 pandemic restrictions creating more desperate people, job scams and trafficking have become worse.

And experts say there is little sign of this illicit activity stopping, making the masterminds rich with little risk and leaving many victims traumatised and in worse straits.

What’s changed

Malaysia is one of several transit points for human trafficking in Southeast Asia. Where Malaysia used to be a country of destination for trafficked migrant workers and asylum-seekers, it is now becoming a country of origin for trafficking.

The Regional Office for Asia and the Pacific at the International Organisation for Migration (IOM) spokesman Itayi Viriri told Bernama​ that job scams and trafficking of victims have changed beyond the usual established recruitment methods and corridors.

“The kind of numbers we are seeing now and the diversity of the nationalities of the victims, that is completely unprecedented. In fact, we don’t think we have seen that kind of trafficking set up ever before. We think that also says something about the way social networks and online media can be used,” he told Bernama in an email.

Cambodia and Laos used to be the favourite spots for these syndicates but they seem to be losing their lustre in favour of Myanmar. News reports have pegged the troubled ASEAN state, which is suffering from lawlessness and civil strife following the military coup in 2021 and decades-old separatist movements, as the new favourite.

The profiles of victims have also changed. Where syndicates used to target poor and low-skilled workers for the fishery and agriculture industries, now they are recruiting those with some education, Internet-savviness and some skills in English and/or Chinese.

“The way that they choose countries to traffic (victims), it isn’t based on the Asian region, it’s based on English education. It’s English education and Chinese language. They want Chinese translation and English (writers) to run online scams. Malaysians have strong English compared to other countries like Thailand, which has none,” said Judah Tana, founder and international executive officer of Mae Sot-based charity Global Advance Projects.

The US State Department, non-governmental organisations and other experts claim many of the crime syndicates and organised crime elements are from or involve people associated with China. Their middle management tends to be from the same countries as the victims, which means there are Malaysians working willingly as supervisors.

Experts also say the Internet and transnational nature of the offence have made it harder to curb and bring scammers to justice, though not impossible.

Modus operandi

Trafficking people who fall for the job and love scams follow a certain script, according to victims, activists and rescuers. It usually starts with a fraudulent job offer overseas that over-promises or an invitation to chat online with a pretty and receptive girl.

Once hooked, the victim meets up with the recruiter/scammer either locally and is smuggled across the border or receives money or a plane ticket to fly into a transit country. In this case, it is Thailand.

Often, the promised job is elsewhere. Victims only find out the destination has changed after they have embarked on their journey.

Once in Thailand, someone from the company meets the victims and confiscates their passports. Along the journey to the company site, guards keep a close watch on the victims, changing cars and guards every few hours. Security becomes tighter.

The chance to run away diminishes with every step of the way. Victims have reported wanting to escape but were too scared or did not know how and from whom to seek help.

When they reach their final destination – KK Garden in Myawaddy for Fi and friends – they receive their job description, which is to scam people online. If they want to leave, their new “employers” tell them they have to pay the syndicate back the recruitment fees (believed to be RM10,000 per head) and transportation costs.

Fi was devastated when she found out she had been tricked.

“I was thinking, why didn’t they just tell us straight from the start, right? I really regret coming here. Because we know the work is illegal, we don’t want to do the job. But when they threatened me, I thought I would have to work or else I would not be able to leave,” she said.

The syndicate told her and Kamil they had to pay the company RM60,000 each. Her friends, Adam Iskandar Tukiman and Nur Akmar Hamsan, were told they owed the company RM40,000 each.

Their supervisor gave them targets to satisfy. Depending on how successful they were at scamming people, they got perks and cash. If they failed, they got punished with physical exercise.

Anyone who fought back would get beaten, tortured or locked in the isolation chamber. Other threats include being sold off for organ harvesting and thrown into Moei River, which is supposedly inhabited by crocodiles.

Fi said their supervisor would threaten to rape her to keep Kamil in line and to torture Kamil to keep her in line. The threats worked.

Experts say this is forced labour and debt bondage, manipulating and forcing victims to work to pay for the debt they supposedly accrued and for their freedom. The more successful they are, the shorter their stay is. Sometimes, victims turn victimisers as they become successful at scamming and receive lucrative rewards from the company.

Tana, who said he has helped rescue almost 100 trafficked victims, told Bernama the way the syndicates work on victims is almost like a brainwashing programme.

“You can’t say that (brainwashing) has not happened to them in some way, shape or form. That they decided it was okay and they can manage to stay there,” he said.

Aftermath

Fi, Kamil, Adam and Nur Akmar were rescued on Feb 3. Armed with information from Teruntum assemblyman Sim Chon Siang, a contingent from the Thai Army went into Myawaddy looking for them. Bangkok-based Malaysian businessman Victor Wong provided information on a fifth victim Lee Zhi Chong, who was also rescued.

Over a month later, Fi still feels guilt for falling for the scam, for agreeing to take Kamil along and for scamming people for money to save herself. Now, she tells people to be very careful when seeking riches overseas.

She and Kamil are no longer together. She told Bernama via WhatsApp that some of his family members blamed her for him getting trafficked.

“But I’m not hurt because it was my mistake in the first place even though I did not ask him to come along and he decided to come with me. But it’s okay, what happened happened. We need to move on and live our lives,” she said.

[jazzy---j]

Three Old Ladies Knit the Socks of Death

Chapter Summary: In the search for answers, Cassie and Percy may find that they have gotten more than they bargained for. And the ride back home only serves to show them that at least one of their fates has been sealed.

Masterlist >>> Read on ao3 (2/23)

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I would love to say that the final few weeks of school just went back to normal. I was used to the occasional weird experience, but usually, they were over quickly. This twenty-four/seven fever dream was way more than I could handle. I did not sign up for this much craziness.

For the rest of the school year, the entire campus seemed to be playing some kind of mind game on Percy and I. At least that's how it felt. The students acted as if they were completely and totally convinced that Mrs. Kerr, a perky blond woman (who I swear I’ve never seen in my life until she got on our bus at the end of the field trip, by the way), had been our pre-algebra teacher since Christmas.

Every so often, we would spring a Mrs. Dodds reference on somebody just to see if we could trip them up, but the usual response would be to stare at me like I was the psycho. 

I wasn’t the one who seemed to forget a whole entire person.

I got so frustrated that I almost gave up and believed them. For the sake of my sanity, I would believe Mrs. Dodds had never existed.

Almost.

For one, the bracelet on my wrist made it hard to forget what happened that day. It looked like a bronze snake coiled around my wrist with a scale design running down the length of it. It was pretty if you're into jewelry like that, but the main problem was that it would not come off. I tried to pull it off, used forks to try an wedge and slide it down my arm. I even tried butter for godsakes, but nothing worked.

If that wasn’t proof enough, Grover wasn’t fooling anybody. He was a dead giveaway. When Percy mentioned the name Dodds to him, he would hesitate, then claim she didn't exist. I knew there was something he wasn’t telling us. Plus, he is just a terrible liar.

I begged Percy to let me try to talk to Grover to see if I could trip him up, but he refused. Hey, I get it he didn’t wanna lose his best and only friend by freaking him out with my crackpot theories. So I dropped it. But I’m sure Percy had his own suspicions as well.

I thought about it every day. Something was going on, something had happened at the museum. And I was gonna find out what.

I didn't have much time to think about it during the day, but at night, visions of Mrs. Dodds with talons and red demon eyes would wake me up screaming.

The freak weather continued, which didn't help Percy’s mood. I tried to be there for him, but even I was having trouble keeping it together. One night, a thunderstorm blew out the windows in his dorm room. A few days later, the biggest tornado ever spotted in the Hudson Valley touched down only fifty miles from Yancy Academy. One of the current events we studied in social studies class was the unusual number of small planes that had gone down in sudden squalls in the Atlantic that year.

I started feeling moody and angsty (whoopee, like a real teen) most of the time. My grades slipped from Cs to Ds. I got into more fights with Nancy Bobofit and her friends. Percy was sent out into the hallway in almost every class.

Finally, when our English teacher, Mr. Nicoll, asked Percy for the millionth time why he was too lazy to study for spelling tests, I sat back and watched the show.

Percy called him an old sot, an old drunk. I bet on my life that he didn’t even know what that meant.

The headmaster sent my mom a letter the following week, making it official: Percy would not be invited back next year to Yancy Academy.

Me, not to be outdone by my older brother, spray-painted a few not-so-nice words on Ms. Kerr’s chalkboard. Sort of payback for making me feel like a complete and utter psycho in the final semester. The headmaster sent the letter the same day.

Fine, I told myself. Just fine. I was homesick. I hated this school.

I wanted to be with my mom and Percy in our little apartment on the Upper East Side. I missed my mom doing my hair on Sundays. I missed the dance studio on 102nd street where I spent so many weekends, even if I had to go to public school and put up with my obnoxious stepfather and his stupid poker parties.

And yet... there were things I'd miss at Yancy. The view of the woods outside my dorm window, the Hudson River in the distance, and the smell of pine trees. I'd miss Mr. Brunner and his idea that me and Percy could do better in class than everyone else. His expectation that we would be better. I would especially miss tournament days in his class.  

As exam week got closer, Latin was the only test Percy and  I even tried to study for. I hadn't forgotten what Mr. Brunner had told us about this subject being life and death for us. I wasn't sure why, but I'd believed him.

The evening before our final, I went to Percy’s dorm to study. Percy got so frustrated he threw the Cambridge Guide to Greek Mythology across my dorm room. I opted for the more practical option of throwing it in the bathtub full of water. 

Percy paced the room, which was starting to annoy me. I lay on his bed, staring at the ceiling, tears of frustration running down my face.

I remembered Mr. Brunner's serious expression, his thousand-year-old eyes. I will accept only the best from you, Percy, and Cassie Jackson.

”Dude, can you please stop pacing your gonna run a hole in the carpet,” I muttered as I pulled my head up to look at him. 

“Plus, it is getting on my nerves.”

Percy stopped his pacing, “Sorry.”

He took a deep breath and went to the bathroom, and when he came out, he had my textbook in his hand. He set it out on the windowsill to dry and picked up his mythology book.

“Come on,” he said and started for the door.

”Where are we going?” I asked as I scrambled to put on my shoes.

Percy paused with his hand on the doorknob and sighed, "I was thinking that maybe if we talked to Mr. Brunner, he could give us some pointers.”

He turned to me as he opened the door,” I-I don’t want to leave Yancy Academy with him thinking we hadn't tried.”

My lips turned up into a smile. Despite everything said about my brother, he was really a good kid, just trying to do the best that he could.

”Well then,” I said, walking out the door, “let’s make sure he doesn’t.” 

We walked downstairs to the faculty offices. Most of them were dark and empty, but Mr. Brunner's door was ajar, light from his window stretching across the hallway floor.

We were three steps from the door handle when I heard voices inside the office. Mr. Brunner asked a question. A voice that was definitely Grover's said, "... worried about Percy and Cassie, sir."

Percy froze. I bumped into his back. 

He inched closer. 

“Percy, what are you doing?” I whisper-yelled while tugging on his shirt. He simply shrugged me off and put a finger to his lips in a shushing gesture. 

Something else about myself... I don’t like to be shushed!

"Did you just shush me?!" I continued. He ignored me. 

"... alone this summer," Grover was saying. "I mean, a Kindly One in the school! Now that we know for sure, and they know too-"

"We would only make matters worse by rushing them," Mr. Brunner said. "We need them both to mature more."

"But them may not have time. The summer solstice deadline- "

"Will have to be resolved without them, Grover. Let them enjoy their ignorance while they still can."

"Sir, they both saw her... ."

"Their imagination," Mr. Brunner insisted. "The Mist over the students and staff will be enough to convince them of that."

 So it was real? We weren’t crazy?

I should have felt relieved, but only dread settled into me. 

We weren’t crazy...

"Sir, I... I can't fail in my duties again." Grover's voice was choked with emotion. "You know what that would mean."

"You haven't failed, Grover," Mr. Brunner said kindly. "I should have seen her for what she was. Now let's just worry about keeping Percy and Cassie alive until next fall-"

The mythology book dropped out of my brother’s hand and hit the floor with a thud.

Oh. My. God.

I facepalmed.

HE DROPPED THE GODDAMN BOOK!

I couldn’t believe it.

Mr. Brunner went silent.

My heart hammering, I picked up the book, grabbed Percy’s shirt, and we both began to back down the hall.

A shadow slid across the lighted glass of Brunner's office door, the shadow of something much taller than my wheelchair-bound teacher, holding something that looked suspiciously like an archer's bow.

Percy opened the nearest door, grabbed me, and slipped us inside.

A few seconds later, I heard a slow clop-clop-clop, like muffled woodblocks, then a sound like an animal snuffling right outside the door. A large, dark shape paused right in front of the glass, then moved on.

My heart pounded so loud I was afraid everyone could hear it. I looked at Percy, and he was as still as a statue. A look of panic plastered across his face.

Somewhere in the hallway, Mr. Brunner spoke. "Nothing," he murmured. "My nerves haven't been right since the winter solstice."

"Mine neither," Grover said. "But I could have sworn..."

“Go back to the dorm," Mr. Brunner told him. "You've got a long day of exams tomorrow." 

"Don't remind me,” Grover groaned.

The lights went out in Mr. Brunner's office.

We waited in the dark for what seemed like forever.

Finally, we slipped out into the hallway and made our way back up to the dorms.

Overwhelmed with the fact that what happened at the museum was real and both Grover and Mr. Brunner knew something about it, I told Percy goodnight and trudged up to my dorm, praying that whatever was going on, Percy and I would find a way out of it.

The next afternoon, as Percy and I were leaving the three-hour Latin exam, my eyes swimming with all the Greek and Roman names I'd misspelled, Mr. Brunner called us back inside.

For a moment, I was worried he'd found out about our impromptu eavesdropping the night before, but that didn't seem to be the problem.

"Percy, Cassie,” he said. "Don't be discouraged about leaving Yancy. It's... it's for the best."

His tone was kind, but the words were still embarrassing. Even though he was speaking quietly, the other kids finishing the test could hear. Nancy Bobofit smirked at me and made sarcastic little kissing motions with her lips. I glared hard enough at her that she promptly went back to looking at her test.

Percy mumbled, "Okay, sir,” as he gripped my hand tightly.

"I mean..." Mr. Brunner wheeled his chair back and forth like he wasn't sure what to say. "This isn't the right place for you. It was only a matter of time."

My head was down, and a curtain of twists covered my face as my eyes stung from trying to hold back tears. I wanted to say something, but there was a lump in my throat. Percy just stared Brunner in the eyes.

Here was my favorite teacher, in front of the class, telling me I couldn't handle it. That my brother couldn’t handle it. After saying he believed in us all year, he was now telling us we were destined to get kicked out.

"Right," Percy said, voice trembling.

"No, no," Mr. Brunner said. "Oh, confound it all. What I'm trying to say... you're not normal, you two. That's nothing to be"

"Thanks," I blurted. "Thanks a lot, sir, for reminding us.

"Percy, Cassie-"

But we were already gone.

On the last day of the term, I shoved my clothes into my suitcase.

The other girls were joking around, talking about their vacation plans. One of them was going on a hiking trip to Switzerland. Another was cruising the Caribbean for a month. They were juvenile delinquents, like me, but they were pretty and rich juvenile delinquents. Their daddies were executives, ambassadors, or celebrities. I was a nobody from a family of nobodies.

They asked me what I'd be doing this summer, and I told them I was going back to the city.

What I didn't tell them was that I'd have to get a summer job babysitting, trying to catch up on all the dance skills I missed and lost over the semester, and spend my free time worrying about where Percy and I’d go to school in the fall.

"Oh," one of the girls said. "That's cool."

They went back to their conversation as if I'd never existed. 

Grover booked a ticket to Manhattan on the same Greyhound that Percy and I had. So there we were, together for one last time, heading into the city.

During the whole bus ride, Grover kept glancing nervously down the aisle, watching the other passengers. It occurred to me that he'd always acted nervous and fidgety when we left Yancy, as if he expected something bad to happen. Before, I'd always assumed he was worried about getting teased. But there was nobody to tease him on the Greyhound.

Finally, I couldn't stand it anymore, but Percy beat me to it.

He said, "Looking for Kindly Ones?"

Grover nearly jumped out of his seat. "Wha-what do you mean?"

Percy confessed about us eavesdropping on him and Mr. Brunner the night before the exam.

Grover's eye twitched. "How much did you hear?"

"Oh... not much,” I said as I fiddled with the strings on my hoodie, trying to play it cool. “What's the summer solstice deadline?" I blurted, looking Grover dead in the eye. 

He winced. "Look, guys... I was just worried for you, see? I mean, hallucinating about demon math teachers..."

"Grover-"

"And I was telling Mr. Brunner that maybe you were overstressed or something because there was no such person as Mrs. Dodds, and..."

"Grover, you’re a really, really bad liar,” I deadpanned.

His ears turned pink.

From his shirt pocket, he fished out a grubby business card. "Just take this, okay? In case you need me this summer.

I looked over Percy’s shoulder at the card. It was in fancy script, which was murder for my dyslexia, but I finally made out something like:

Grover Underwood Keeper

Half-Blood Hill

Long Island, New York (800) 009-0009

"What's Half-" 

"Don't say it aloud!" he yelped. "That's my, um... summer address."

"Okay," Percy said glumly. "So, like, if we want to come to visit your mansion." 

Grover nodded. "Or... or if you need me."

"Why would we need you?"

I glared at him with a look that said, “Dude, come on.” My big brother, ever so articulate.

Grover blushed right down to his Adam's apple. "Look, guys, the truth is, I-I kind of have to protect you."

I stared at him. Now that was hard to believe. Between demon math teachers and everyone thinking I was crazy, Grover protecting us was throwing me for a loop.

All year long, Percy’d gotten in fights, keeping bullies away from him. I'd even lost a little sleep worrying that he'd get beaten up next year without us. And here he was, acting like he was the one who defended us.

"Grover," I said, "what exactly are you protecting us from?"

There was a huge grinding noise under our feet. Black smoke poured from the dashboard, and the whole bus filled with the smell of rotten eggs. The driver cursed and limped the Greyhound over to the side of the highway.

After a few minutes of clanking around in the engine compartment, the driver announced that we'd all have to get off. Grover, Percy, and I filed outside with everybody else.

We were on a stretch of country road-no place you'd notice if you didn't break down there. On our side of the highway were nothing but maple trees and litter from passing cars. On the other side, across four lanes of asphalt shimmering with the afternoon heat, was an old-fashioned fruit stand.

The stuff on sale looked really good: heaping boxes of blood-red cherries and apples, walnuts and apricots, jugs of cider in a claw-foot tub full of ice. There were no customers, just three old ladies sitting in rocking chairs in the shade of a maple tree, knitting the biggest pair of socks I'd ever seen.

I mean, these socks were the size of sweaters, but they were clearly socks. The lady on the right knitted one of them. The lady on the left knitted the other. The lady in the middle held an enormous basket of electric-blue yarn.

All three women looked ancient, with pale faces wrinkled like fruit leather, silver hair tied back in white bandannas, and bony arms sticking out of bleached cotton dresses.

The weirdest thing was, they seemed to be looking right at Percy. Not at me, not at Grover, only at Percy. Percy started back.

I looked over at Grover to comment on their intense gaze and saw that the blood had drained from his face. His nose was twitching.

"Grover?" I said. "Hey, dude-"

"Tell me they're not looking at Percy. They are, aren't they?"

"Yeah. Weird, huh? You think those socks would fit me?" Percy said.

I laughed nervously. I was starting to get a weird feeling, my body only telling me one thing, “leave.”

"Not funny, Percy. Not funny at all."

The old lady in the middle took out a huge pair of scissors-gold and silver, long-bladed, like shears. I heard Grover catch his breath.

"We're getting on the bus," he told me. "Come on."

"What?" Percy said. "It's a thousand degrees in there."

"Come on!'" He pried open the door and climbed inside. I grabbed Percy’s arm because I was really starting to freak out. Everything about this felt wrong, felt dangerous.

”Percy, we should get on the bus with Grover, “ I said, trying to gently tug him along. But Percy stayed put.

Across the road, the old ladies were still watching us. The middle one cut the yarn, and I swear I could hear that snip across four lanes of traffic. Her two friends began to ball up the electric-blue socks.

At the rear of the bus, the driver wrenched a big chunk of smoking metal out of the engine compartment. The bus shuddered, and the engine roared back to life.

The passengers cheered.

"Darn right!" yelled the driver. He slapped the bus with his hat. "Everybody back on board!" Once we got going, I started to feel a strange sort of guilt, as if something just happened that I should have stopped.

Grover didn't look much better. He was shivering, and his teeth were chattering.

"Grover?"

"Yeah?"

"What are you not telling us?" Percy said.

He dabbed his forehead with his shirt sleeve. "Percy, what did you see back at the fruit stand?"

"You mean the old ladies? What is it about them, man? They're not like... Mrs. Dodds, are they?"

His expression was hard to read, but I got the feeling that the fruit-stand ladies were something much, much worse than Mrs. Dodds. He pushed, "Just tell me what you saw."

"The middle one took out her scissors, and she cut the yarn,” I said.

He closed his eyes and made a gesture with his fingers that might've been crossing himself, but it wasn't. It was something else, something almost older.

He said, "You saw her snip the cord."

"Yeah. So?" But even as nonchalant as Percy said it, I knew it was a big deal.

"This is not happening," Grover mumbled. He started chewing at his thumb. "I don't want this to be like the last time."

"What last time?"

"Always sixth grade. They never get past sixth."

"Grover," Percy said, gripping my hand because he knew Grover was freaking me out, and I was starting to get scared. "What are you talking about?" 

"Let me walk you home from the bus station. Percy, promise me."

This seemed like a strange request to me, but Percy promised he could.

"Is this like a superstition or something?" I asked.

No answer.

"Grover-that snipping of the yarn. Does that mean somebody is going to die?"

He looked at me mournfully, and the guilt only grew.

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A/N: Thank you friends for taking the time to read this chapter! This fic is also available on Ao3, Wattpad, and Quotev so check them out @Jazzy__J. I hope you enjoyed this fic, and leave a comment! Thank you, guys!

-Jazzy J

-> chapter 3

[not-poignant]

Are Efnisiens stab wounds ACTUALLY very prominent or bad? I guess it's hard for me to imagine cos he has such a bad opinion of himself. Is it just the classic "stab wound scars" on google images? I am so glad Arden treated them so soft and gentle. Did he end up getting the oil or cream for them?

This is actually answered a fair bit in the story, both in Spoils of the Spoiled, and Falling Falling Stars.

In the first, while we don't see Efnisien's scars, it's made plain that through Efnisien's own actions, he's placed in four-point restraints and has required more surgery, further opening three of his wounds. If you open a wound that has just been closed, tearing the stitches, it will scar worse than before, because you've basically ripped apart already damaged skin, and surgeons will often have to remove that damaged skin, widening and lengthening the scar as they go. The less skin they have to work with, and the more damaged (and infected) the skin around the wound, the worse the scars are.

We know Efnisien needed 70 stitches, which is way more than what the average person needs for five 'neat' stab wounds. In fact, for neat stab wounds, they might even use a combination of glue, steri-strips and internal stitches. 70 external stitches is a pretty huge amount in a day and age where there are lots of techniques to minimise stitches, especially in places where no cosmetic surgery is needed. To give you an idea, I have a 30 centimetre scar on my inner thigh that only ever had 6 stitches and was otherwise dealt with with internal stitches and steri-strips. And I have a 25 centimetre scar on my neck that was dealt with re: 20 staples (because they wanted the scar to heal more neatly.) I'm still nowhere near 70 stitches/staples.

And while folks might not have that kind of medical knowledge, that kind of medical knowledge does indicate that it's really not just Efnisien's bad self image! So if like, this is something you've been fortunate enough to never have to learn in the world (i.e. that re-opening a wound makes the scar worse, or that the amount of stitches generally correlates to how monstrous the wounds are), that's great! And hopefully these explanations help.

We also know from Spoils of the Spoiled that Efnisien is in the hospital for way longer than 2 weeks because of his actions. I don't know if you're familiar with hospitals at all, anon, but they turf you out of there as soon as possible. They don't care about your surgical wounds healing, they just want you gone as soon as you're stable. Efnisien spending 4-5 weeks in the hospital indicates a really bad healing process and possible infection. After a surgery like that he should have gone home after around 10 days at most.

Infections make scars worse too. Even if you don't re-open your wounds with your bare hands, they can cause keloid scarring, widening, discoloration that doesn't fade with time, and much more.

Efnisien does actually explain that himself here:

‘A nurse walked past and just…saw the blood, I think, and my fingers st-sticking into me,’ Efnisien said. He laughed weakly, a wet burst. ‘Should’ve seen her face, oh my god. We just- I’ll never forget how we stared at each other. She fucking lost it, and pulled some alarm, and they were yelling at me, and at each other, and then I guess they…they knocked me out and- Um. I-I went back into surgery a second time. Because- I think infection maybe. Or…tearing the stitches. And restitching everything, and the infection y’know, it…the scars. It made them worse.’

On top of the technical factors of just 'if you open up still healing surgical wounds by tearing the skin and stitches open with force you're going to give yourself bigger scars that's just a fact' and '70 stitches is no joke,' Arden refers to some of Efnisien's scars as 'mean ones' and literally asks him 'what happened?' to make the scarring so bad. If he thought the scarring was normal, or within the scope of what he expected from a surgery, I doubt he ever would have asked this question.

Arden is the kind of person to call it as he sees it, if he thinks the scars are normal, he would have said so (which would have been nice for Efnisien to hear!) - and as he said beforehand, he's seen scars before and he's not scared of them. He'd have no reason to draw attention to Efnisien's 'mean' scars, unless he genuinely thought they were mean. Arden would rush to reassure Efnisien that the scars were normal, if he thought they were normal. But he doesn't.

So yeah, definitely not all in Efnisien's head! This one's been touched on a lot re: other characters, since Spoils of the Spoiled, so there's no reason to think this is just negative body image. And there's no way Arden would let him keep that terrible negative body image if he just saw 'normal scars.'

(And I don't know if Arden's specifically acquired anything for Efnisien's scars yet.)

[harrysgoldenline]

When In Italy Part 3

Part 1 | Part 2

He remembered your order.

It was all you could think about after you sat down, a waitress coming quickly to your table and he gave you a look, asking you if that’s what you wanted. You gave a small nod and you refrained from commenting on it, not wanting to stroke his already enlarged ego you are sure has only gotten big since you have seen him last based on… well everything.

The waitress thanked you both, taking your menus and leaving the two of you alone, giving one another an awkward smile before you looked down at your hands, now regretting pretending to not know what to order in order to hide behind your menu a bit more.

“So…” Harry began, fingers drumming onto the table, “how have you been?”

You let out an airy laugh, looking up at him with a raised eyebrow before leaning back in the woven dining chair, warm Italian sun hitting your face as you looked out at the view and back to him, not even sure what to say. You, obviously, were not doing great and he was.

You open your mouth to start to answer but stop when the waitress comes back, placing the cool, water glasses in front of you and they quickly become interesting as you watch the condensation drop down from the glass onto the table.

“Y/n…” Harry began, looking up at you and sighing when your eyes met, “Can you talk to me? I just want to see what you’ve been up to.”

“What about you?” You counter, heart pounding against your chest, “I feel like you’re the one who needs to check in and share some updates more than anyone else, don’t you think?”

“I guess I deserve that.” He chuckled, taking a sip of water and looking at you over the glass causing you to scoff.

“I’m glad you think it’s funny.” you glare, crossing your arms over your chest, trying to calm your pounding heart, “really makes the whole situation better.”

“Okay, you’re right, I’m sorry,” He nodded, holding his hands up in defense, “but I didn’t know you were going to be there, I would have never brought her if I would have known that, obviously and I’m sorry it happened this way but I’m glad I saw you, I’m glad to see you.”

“Who is she?”

He looked surprised by your question, not expecting you to rip the band-aid off in the way that you did. But, you knew him. Better than anyone you’ve ever known in your life and you couldn’t understand why he was beating around the bush like this so much. You also needed this for yourself, not wanting to fall for his famous charm, looking into those beautiful, jade eyes you knew you would be done for.

It’s the reason your sitting across from at this table at all, not being able to resist his smile, his sot, caring voice as he asked you to see him, having no idea what you would be getting into all, you said yes without any hesitation and you decided in that moment, watching as he went around the clear high priority topic with ease.

“Her name is Olivia.” He sighed, “she’s the director of the movie I’m going to be in and…”

“You’re together?”

He didn’t answer, looking at his hands.

You nodded, taking his silence as the clear answer and you bit your bottom lip hard, tasting blood as your teeth sunk into the flesh, hoping the pain would stop the tears that were stinging your eyes. You could feel your hands shake and you let out a sigh, standing up from the table and running your hands over your skirt, frustrated he didn’t even have the nerve to come out and simply say it.

“I-I’m going to go,” You began to ramble, looking down at the water glass and you dug through your bag, looking for money to pay for your meal and tip the waitress, even though it wasn’t yet served to you, eyes burning as you did your best to keep in your tears.

“Please stay.” He whispered and you shook your head rapidly, pulling out your wallet and looking for a big enough bill, “Okay, let me just drive you back, put your wallet away this is on me.I asked you to come.” He added, pulling out his wallet and laying down a more than generous amount.

“No, please.” You whispered, stepping back as you stepped closer to you, “just, stay. Take my food with you. I’m gonna book a flight home and you guys can have the house to yourselves by tomorrow night.”

“Y/n-”

“Goodbye, Harry.”

You ignored his calls of your name, walking down the pavestone as you made your way through the quaint town, passing the many boutiques and gelato shops you two went through a dozen times.You also did your best to ignore the longing look of pity as you passed by the strangers, thankful your italian wasn’t as good as his, that way you didn’t have to also hear what they were saying about you.

You wandered your way through the beautiful village, wishing it brought you the same amount of joy as it always did, but not it just left you a bitter taste in your mouth, reaching for your phone and calling for a cab, looking up flights the second the car pulled up.

***

Your eyes fluttered open at the sound of your alarm, heart wrenching at the realization that all of this was real and you fist rubbed your swollen eyes, sniffling as you sat up and the details all came back to you.

“He found someone else already.” you had sobbed into the phone to your best friend, clutching at your chest as your back was against the front door. “He already moved on, y/bff/n and he brought her here and-and… I-I got a flight home and I just don’t know what to do.”

You were beginning to hyperventilate, mind being unable to wrap around the fact that he had moved on so quickly, the man you thought you were going to marry, being together for years, had already moved on to someone else.

Your best friend had done her best to calm you, begging you to let them fly there to help get your things together, to at least meet you at a connecting flight so you weren’t flying home completely alone, but you didn’t allow it, knowing how much trouble they would get into with their boss.

“I’ll be there to pick you up.” they told you, after a long pause, their heart was breaking at the sound of your cries, “You’re gonna make it through this, y/n. I know you are.”

You weakly stumbled out of bed, walking straight to the closet and, once again, pulling your bags out and throwing them onto the bed, throwing your all clothes into a messy pile and zipping up the bag, pushing it into the hallway after quickly changed into a clean outfit, slipping on a pair of sneakers as you got ready for your flight home.

Forcing yourself to brush your teeth and run a comb through your hair was harder than you had ever imagined, hating to have to look at your reflection as the face of her was being compared side by side in your mind. You hated yourself more for wishing that Harry tried a little harder, wishing that he had ran after you and tried to at least explain more, extend the olive branch so to speak, even though it would never fully heal your wounds.

Your anxious mind wouldn’t stop reliving your morning with Harry and you couldn’t help but have regrets, wondering if you overreacted, wondering what would have happened if you stayed for the rest of the meal.

Could you ever be friends?

Pushing yourself away from the counter you hoped that the thoughts would subside, wishing you knew the answers but knowing you never would. You shuffled your way into the living room, curling up on the couch as you waited for the car to come pick you up and take you to the airport, not having the energy to reach to pick up the remote so you sat in silence.

Although it felt like minutes, an hour soon passed and you heard the knock at the door and you forced yourself up, grabbing your suitcase and wheeling it behind you as you opened the door, being greeted by the driver who took your suitcase from you and loaded it into the car as you followed behind, finding your place in the backseat.

The time went faster than you thought it would, the drive to the airports, the security line, flights, layovers, all of it. The next thing you knew you were walking down the steps of the airport, seeing the face of your best friend and running towards them, dropping your suitcase in the process as they quickly took you in their arms, holding you as tight as they could.

“I got you.” They whispered, rubbing your back as your tears sunk into the fabric of the fabric covering their shoulder, “I’m so, so sorry, sweetheart. You’re gonna be okay, I promise.”

“How do you know?” you horsley whispered, “my heart hurts so much.”

“I know, I know.” They whispered back, pulling back and looking you into the eyes, giving you a smile and wiping away your tears, “It’s going to be okay, I promise. You are an incredible human being, y/n, you are so unbelievably strong andI know that you can do this and I’m going to be there for you every single step of the way, okay?. ”

And they were.

Being there for you every single step of the way for the next two weeks since you got back from your trip and even moved into your apartment with you for a few days at first as you adjusted. Holding you every single time that you cried, always checking in and making sure that you were taking care of yourself and always being there for you to talk about everything, even though you weren’t quite ready yet, they were there for you when you were going to be and you couldn’t have been more thankful for that.

Now, after a couple weeks of healing, after your plummet on your journey of healing post break up, you felt like you were back on your way up. You started leaving your apartment more again and y/bff/n even got you to go out with them and a couple of friends one night.

Actually starting to feel better and even starting to feel a lot more like yourself.

Your phone buzzed and you quickly took a look down at it, seeing a text from y/bff/n

Be there soon! i can't wait to try out this new coffee place!

You smiled and sent back your quick reply, letting her know you were going to head downstairs touching up your makeup quickly as you looked at yourself in the mirror and smiled back at your reflection, seeing the glow and fullness starting to come back to your face, the circles under your eyes slowly disappearing more and more everyday.

Grabbing your purse off the kitchen counter and sliding on your shoes you got ready to leave your apartment, heading out the door and locking the door behind you, jiggling the handle to endure it was locked before turning on your heel to head out. You go to reach for the elevator button, but it dings as it announces its arrival and you step out of the way, allowing whatever neighbor to have a clear path to their apartment. Instead, you're met with a pair of familiar green eyes.

“Harry?”

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

Thanks for reading! Comments/feedback is always encouraged and that way I can let you know when the next part is up!!

Are you interested in a personalized imagine? check out my pinned post on my page or click the link below!

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[artiesjam]

aaa very happy to share that “Arrow Straight To My Heart” has it’s first chapter out and gosh do i love it

anyways go read it because im desperate and it has archer willie and nb willie

ao3 link!

———

Pain shot up the blonde’s arm as he hit the dirt. He wanted to scream but his voice was strained, his nose was bloodied, and god did everything just hurt. Half broken sobs escaped from his chest. He had never felt more vulnerable and exposed until now where he sat in the middle of the forest with tears running down his pink cheeks.

—

He could remember it all as clear as day. His dad smiling as big as ever when they took that family photo. Alex couldn’t have been more than seven but for some reason, he felt so big and mighty during that moment on top of his dad’s arms—tinkering a bit with the crown that laid on top of his father’s head.

Alex’s biggest mistake was wiping that smile right off his dad’s face. He had come out and suddenly, his father’s smile seemed to disappear. He no longer took family photos with him, substituting by spending time in his office alone or arguing with his mom. The only time he saw his dad smile anymore was in press interviews or during fancy royal parties. It wasn’t the same smile though. It was an artificially sweet one that left a bad taste in his mouth every time he tried to recall it, not like he tried to remember it often.

—

After a while of deranged whimpers and sighs, Alex decided to assess his injuries. It wasn’t terrible. A possible broken nose, a few cuts and scrapes on his hands, and a twisted ankle were what he assumed. It wasn’t anything that the castle doctors couldn’t fix. If only he could get back there.

Damn, how far did he even run?

Alex craned his head as far as he could without causing a great deal of pain. Nothing was familiar. There were no landmarks he could remember or place a name to—not even a town in sight. A long sigh was left from the boy’s chapped and jagged lips as he leaned himself against the bark of the tree. A part of him pleaded himself to get up and find his surroundings while the other half wanted to close their eyes and fall asleep hoping to drift off into some peaceful slumber. He would choose the latter.

—

“Have you decided yet? You know that I can’t let you come to the ball without a date.” His mom poked his stomach lovingly before landing a soft kiss on her son’s cheek. “Ma, I’ll be fine. I’ll just do the slow dance with Alexis like how we always do.” Alexis was Alex’s younger sister. They had a four-year age difference but that was okay because they both didn’t seem to mind keeping their tradition of silly slow dancing. His mom had some complaints though. “Come on! When am I going to see my baby dance with some nice young man? I think the prince from that one kingdom would do just nice.” Alex chuckled slightly at the remark before catching on to his dad’s gaze. It seemed as if he was so angry and so upset that his son could turn out gay. So angry that his son was “unholy” or “impure.” His teeth gritted together ever so slightly and his eyes twitched. But when he noticed Alex staring, he quickly plastered on his fake smile and acted as if he was the perfect father.

It was aggravating.

—

“Hey, um, are you alright?”

The voice was enough to knock him out of his daydream, eyes slipping open. There in front of him was a toned figure in a jumpsuit. They had an outstretched hand and a cheeky smile. It was hard to tell any extreme details, however, because of how fuzzy his eyes were becoming. He just wanted to close his eyes again…until he felt a cold hand on his waist that caught his attention again.

“Hey, keep your eyes open. Do you need water?” The attempt to nod left his neck feel uncomfortably limp and stiff all at the same time. He felt like he was slowly losing his grip on his consciousness again. He knew better than that though so he peered his eyes open once more and stared at the person in front of him.

Now that he had a closer view, he could note every detail about them. How their entire face was covered in dirt and sot, how the person’s hands felt slightly callused, and how their brown eyes just had so much concern packed into them. He kept his breathing low in order not to breathe all over the long-haired beauty. “Uh, n-no, I’m fine. Just, do you know where I can lay down?” His question was silently answered whenever he was picked up and the two started walking. Alex was kind of doing more limping and using the person as a crutch but oh well, he couldn’t lie and say that it didn’t feel nice resting his head on the broad shoulder.

“Do you want to sleep at my place and I can fix you up? It's closer than any doctor in this town.”The brunette asked, keeping a grip on the other’s waist so that he didn’t topple over. He could only muster up the energy to hum in agreement.

—

“Alex, what do you need to tell us, honey?” His mom fixed her son’s hair as she awaited a response. He didn't have one to give. He didn't want to ruin anything. Yet, his mouth opened and the words spilled from his tongue until he had no more to say.

His mom didn't mind the confession. She just kissed his forehead and whispered sweet nothings as if trying to leave a permanent imprint of her words. His dad had different thoughts. His face shifted from surprise to disappointment before finally landing on anger. His face stayed like that for the past years. He was always angry; Alex caused that.

—

Once Alex’s eyes decided to open, he was greeted with an unfamiliar sight. It was a nice clean room with lamps far too light for his liking, squinting immediately to avoid looking at it.

“Oh, you’re awake!” Even though the voice was the same from earlier, it didn’t have the same tone of concern and consideration from whenever they found him in the woods.

“Yeah, I guess.” Alex joked, despite the quite unfortunate circumstances. Humor was his coping mechanism to avoid him losing his shit. To get a better look at the person that he had yet to find the name of, he sat up. Yet, his body pulled him right back down when he felt a searing pain in his side. His arm found the area of pain and was met with a bandage that he was sure wasn’t there earlier.

“Hey, hey. Be careful. I fixed you up earlier but you still have to take it easy.” Alex only nodded at that before inching his neck towards the other and opening his eyes to the all-too-bright room. “So, why'd you bring me here? Where is here?” He asked.

The toned person looked around hesitantly before answering. “Uh, this is my place or more of where I stay. It's an archery shop that I sometimes work at but it has a lower level where Flynn lets me crash. Oh! I'm Willie, by the way.”

Now that he thought about it more, the name did fit them. It was almost like a signature on every little subtle movement. Whenever their lips would curl upwards and their eyes would crinkle lightly whenever they smiled, it was Willie’s own. It was all so perfect and well done as if an angel above custom made them just for them to…

He was staring.

To fill in the awkward silence, Alex forced a cough and replied with an introduction of his own. “Sorry. I'm Alex. Do you know how long I was out?” Willie smiled and looked at a clock on the wall that Alex hadn’t noticed was there. “I’d say about an hour give or take how long you were awake since I walked in. The injuries are mild if you wanted to know that too. Nothing except for an ankle sprain, a gash on your side, and some minor cuts that I disinfected.”

Alex was astonished. This person showed up from nowhere, made sure he wasn’t hurt and didn’t mind him sleeping in their bed. Who were they?

“Hey! How am I supposed to repay you? Or…”

Alex was sure that there had to be some catch to the package deal he was getting right now. Yet, Willie just flashed a joyful smile before slipping off into another room. “Don’t worry about it,” they called.

How was he not supposed to worry about it when some insanely hot, long-haired gem just took care of him?

————

taglist because mwah ily guys: @thedepthsofhell @nickalicious @thedragonemperess @willex-owns-my-heart @that-one-newsie

[skinsharpenedteeth]

it’s some angst and smut time y’all! You can read it here or on AO3. AO3 includes tags such as drunk sex, mildly dubious consent and smut! I’m too lazy to re-list them all here. Just know everyone’s of legal age to be fucking each other up. 

So without further ado, here’s 8+k of Malex during the interim years between high school and S1. 

                              The sun had been brutal that day. Every time he’d touched a surface besides his own skin, he’d felt like he was being blistered from the heat. It left his fingers feeling raw and all he wanted was some relief from the onslaught of fire and light. It didn’t help that an awareness kept nagging at him, like a lead balloon settling to ground in his stomach, making him cranky and on edge on top of dealing with the sweltering desert sun. The feeling was familiar enough for him to recognize that he’d had it before, but he couldn’t pinpoint what it was exactly and that made him irritable as much as the sweat stinging his eyes did. Usually, he’d be able to hide away somewhere during the hottest part of the afternoon to drink a cold one and take some time to meditate on his feelings, but that day Sanders had been around and ready to fire him if he didn’t finish a certain car before end of business. Consequently, Michael felt wrung out and thin skinned by the time he’d stumbled into the Wild Pony to drink himself into a giddy stupor. Maybe he’d find some trouble tonight if he was lucky. Maybe the buzzing in his brain would shut up if he poured enough tequila onto it. Maybe he’d even ask for ice in his whiskey to cool him off.

              Michael felt his feet scrape the packed dirt of the Wild Pony parking lot as he drug himself still grease stained and damp from sweat into the dark, cool bar before the sun had even set. The car he’d worked on wasn’t a hard job, but it was a heavy one that took far too much effort and time and his body felt beat up at the end of it. Once he’d slammed the finished invoice on Sanders’ desk, he’d grabbed his hat off the rack and his truck keys, hightailing it straight to the bar with barely a look backwards.

The bar was almost empty in the early afternoon except for a handful of other afternoon regulars. Drunks that didn’t have day jobs or only worked enough to get money to pay for their place on the bar stool. Michael didn’t ever want to be like them, but he also recognized that a corner stool was open and looked inviting to the mean gremlin in the back of his mind. He shook his head and turned to survey all the open spots in the building, enjoying the blast of A/C that hit him as soon as the door had opened.  It felt like walking into a meat locker it was so crisp and cool. That would change as the bodies piled in for beer and pool and the ever-constant search for companionship, but right now it felt like the North Pole on a winter morning. He waved towards Mimi DeLuca at the bar and sidled over to a booth along the wall where the air-conditioned vent would hit him straight in the face. As he sat down he sighed long and hard, letting contentment wash over him as the anticipation of being pleasantly blitzed later settled in his mind.

              “Long day, cowboy?” Mimi asked, setting down a water on the coaster in front of him and eyeing him up and down. She wasn’t flirting, he knew, but just scrutinizing what kind of drunk he was going to be today. They’d done this dance a lot since he’d become legal and actively self-destructive.

              “The longest. Give me five shots of your cheapest tequila,” he ordered, grinning at her disapproving look. She nodded and walked back towards the bar without a word though. She’d long since stopped trying to mother him over how he decided to destroy his body. He wasn’t worth her time and both of them knew it.

              Michael slunk down on the bench seat and closed his eyes, enjoying the cool air on his face while he waited for Mimi to get back. The pleather of the seat creaked under body and he extended his legs out under the table and propped them on the empty seat across from him. He could almost fall asleep like that, his body ready to forget the tequila and just dream for a couple hours. If he thought that were a real possibility, he’d leave with his money and go back to the Airstream to do just that, but sleep never came easy to Michael. He could be so tired he’d be weeping with the desire to just not be for a little while and his brain would hum along with one mistake or memory after another until he sought an alternative route to Slumberland. He jerked when Mimi came back and set down his shots.  He hadn’t been asleep, but he’d found that meditative half-consciousness that fueled him through most of his life.

              “That’s twenty-five,” she let him know, waiting for him to dig out his wallet from his back pocket. He handed her thirty and picked up with first shot and downed it without much ado. When he sat back, fingers still holding the glass lightly and breath coming out hard from the burn of the cheap stuff, she started fishing in her apron for change. He waved at her without saying a word and she nodded back in acknowledgement. He wouldn’t say it was in thanks because Mimi Deluca never thanked him for anything. She might thank him for not darkening her doorstep again, but then he’d have to find a new place to drink where the staff knew to leave him alone when he was in a mood like the one he was in today.

              “Alex Manes is in town,” she mentioned casually, taking out a rag and making a show of wiping down the seat across from his before pushing his boots off and taking a seat. 

Michael felt his stomach lurch and he gave her a narrow look, picking up the next shot and downing it in response. She shrugged and looked out at the four other patrons scattered around the room. “Maria mentioned it. Just thought you’d want to catch up with an old high school friend. He’s only on here on leave for a couple days. Then he’s getting sent back to the Middle East for another tour.”

              “We weren’t exactly friends in high school, I’m not sure he’d even want to see me,” he replied, knowing he sounded sulky and petulant. Mimi gave him a sharp look, seeing through his shit just like always.

              “Well, you were something. He always looked at you like you were a problem he couldn’t quite figure out and you always looked at him like he was the only answer to any question worth asking.  Maybe you should look him up while he’s in town,” she commented, stacking the two empty shot glasses and leaving him to think about her suggestion. He watched after her, starting to feel the fuzzy edges of warmth from the tequila take hold of his consciousness.

              How did he tell her that he had seen Alex Manes every time he’d come back home on leave? Or that he’d actually visited him once or twice when he was stationed somewhere within a day’s drive? Seven years since that day in the shed and every time Alex came home, he burst through Michael’s heart like a cannonball leaving just as much shredded evidence that he’d been through as a real one would. And Alex would just keep moving forward, not a dent or scratch to show he’d torn through Michael once again. It made Michael feel like just part of the rounds. Alex would see Maria, endure his father, pretend to be straight with his bros and then find Michael, where ever he may be, and crawl under his skin to hide for a few hours while systematically breaking down all of Michael’s emotional defenses and raising another sexual peak for someone else to try and top. Then he’d leave. Michael would mourn like a faithful pet and have to slowly fill in the hollow spaces that Alex had made for himself while he was there.

              He took another shot. Maybe if he was hammered Alex would turn around and go back to his father’s house? Maybe if he drove out to the desert and slept in the back of his truck for the next week he could avoid this round of heartbreak? But then maybe he’d miss his chance to see Alex smile the way he’d only smile for Michael. He’d miss the feel of his skin brushing against Michael’s as he turned over in that sweet sleep they’d find between rounds of pressing themselves into one another. He’d miss giving Alex the chance to say he’d stay and that he loved him and that it was more than some protracted high school fling that neither of them could bear to end.

              But it felt inevitable, this thing between them. Hearing Mimi’s announcement that he was in town clued Michael into what he’d been feeling all day. Inertia. It didn’t matter if he got shit faced, the universe would still tumble his sotted ass into Alex because he was always in a state of heading towards him anyway. The same end always awaited him. All Alex had to do was exist and Michael would crawl over a lava field to press his forehead against the skin of his ankles and when Alex stepped away, Michael would move towards him once more trying to recapture their bond. It wasn’t healthy, this obsession he felt towards Alex, but no one had ever made him feel so needed or so desperate for love. No one could calm the frenetic energy in his bones while winding him up to bursting.  No one else tasted like starlight and infinite possibility the way Alex did. No one knew the seams of all his pieces so blindly and left him quite so torn apart.

              His stomach rolled and he thought maybe he should’ve ordered something solid with his liquid dinner. Michael drank down half the glass of water and looked out across the bar to distract himself with the way the tequila was starting to make him feel floaty. More people were filtering in. The after-work crowd was always loud and brash and high on that feeling of temporary freedom from responsibility. Normally they were his favorite people to hustle for free drinks or Texas rounders in the bathroom, but he no longer felt like seeing or dealing with anyone tonight.  He eyed the last two shots in contemplation.

              Shrugging to himself, he picked them up in quick succession and downed them. He’d paid for them after all. Now he just had to race them home before they made him sleepy or weepy or suicidal.  He slipped out of the booth and waited for Mimi to be busy before heading to his truck. He didn’t think she’d stop him, but he’d never done 5 shots in less than two hours and then tried to drive home. He just couldn’t stand to be there anymore in the steadily more jubilant atmosphere, and he didn’t want anyone to save him tonight. He could go home and pass out and forget about Alex Manes. He could stop chasing a dream.

              When Michael stumbled into the airstream half an hour later, he had no clue how he hadn’t just died. He remembered driving. He remembered feeling like driving was a terrible idea and that he absolutely should not be doing it in the condition he was in. He remembered waiting to see another car on the road or a deer or anything that would spook him into swerving and flipping his truck, but he hadn’t. He’d made it back to the airstream. When he’d opened the car door, he’d fallen out and found himself looking at the everything sideways until he turned his head and looked at the stars swirling drunkenly in the sky. The earth was hard and still hot under him from the sweltering day. The gravel and dust clung to the side where he’d landed, digging into his skin. For as drunk as he was, shouldn’t he be number than this to discomfort?

It had taken him way too long to navigate making himself stand up so he could stagger the five steps to the trailer door. His hand gripped the door handle hard and he’d lurched and crawled up the two stairs into the airstream’s interior. Once inside, he immediately began to undress. He no longer wanted to wear the dirty, sweat stained work shirt. He didn’t want to wear the rough, torn jeans or his ragged underwear. He didn’t want to feel the caked layer of dust, grease, and salt that covered him head to toe. And he didn’t want to think that when Alex found him later he’d be too gross to touch.

That thought had him pause, naked and swaying in the door to the bathroom. Maybe Alex should find him gross. Maybe Alex deserved to see what it did to him to know he was in town, acting normal by day only to find Michael after all the lights in the town had gone out and show his real skin. Maybe Alex should know that Michael was as filthy on the outside as he was being treated. If Michael was going to be kept like a dirty secret, maybe he should just stay dirty. Who was Alex Manes to treat Michael like he was something shameful? He should tell Alex that. Should tell him not to come and see him anymore. Not to expect any further special treatment from Michael.

Making a decision, he turned and tried to grab his jeans from the floor so he could get his phone. He fell, landing hard with his shoulder digging into the cabinet door handles. Hissing, he ignored the pain and scrambled to pull the hard rectangle from his crusty jeans. He opened the screen and debated texting or calling before realizing he didn’t think he could coordinate his fingers well enough to text while this hammered. The tequila was starting to give his body ultimatums on whether it too would stay or go. The pain where he’d fallen against the door handle was stinging and he looked over to see blood running down his arm. Groaning, he reached up and hauled himself off the floor and onto his bed. He surveyed the contents of the trailer for something that he could see to dull the ache. A couple empty bottles of acetone lay on their sides at his worktable. He’d forgotten to buy more. A half empty bottle of Jose Cuervo sat across from him on the stove. He reached over and opened the bottle one handed, unscrewing the top with his thumb. He sloppily poured some over the wound ‘to clean it’ and then took a hearty swallow ‘for courage’. Swaying where he sat, he looked down at the phone again and found Alex in his contacts, hitting Call before he could talk himself out of it.

“Hello?” Alex answered the phone. Michael stayed silent, listening to the music and laughter emanating from the background noise. It didn’t sound like the Pony. Maybe that new gay bar in town? Maybe Alex was trying to replace him, take up another so he didn’t have to put up with Michael’s melodrama. Did Michael want that? Alex sounded good though a little confused as to why Michael was actually calling him instead of just waiting around to his turn at Alex’s attention, but…. Still, so good.

“Michael?” Alex whispered his name into the phone. Michael could almost see him turning and walking away from whoever he was with so they wouldn’t hear him say Michael’s name, wouldn’t know who had called him. Michael was breaking the rules. Alex was supposed to come to him when he wanted and he wasn’t supposed to go looking for him. He was the bad thing that had to be done with no body else’s knowledge so they wouldn’t judge Alex.

“Guerin, are you there?” Alex asked again, voice a little louder but still hushed compared to the environment around him. Michael hoped that was concern he was hearing but decided it must be something more akin to frustration. What was he doing? Why had he called Alex?

“Don’t come over tonight,” Michael finally bit out. Then he waited, silent. He knew he should hang up and make his point. That’s all he’d called to say, right?

“Okay,” Alex replied slowly, drawing out the work and definitely sounding confused. “I’m in town for another couple days. Maybe tomo—”

“NO, ALEX. Don’t come over ANY NIGHT! I don’t want you to!” Michael yelled, hearing the slur in his voice and knowing he’d said too much. When he’d yelled, he’d apparently swung the arm not holding the phone and he heard the resulting crash of beer bottles hitting the trailer floor.

“Are you okay? You sound drunk. Are you at the Pony? Do I need to come get you?” Alex asked, voice sharpening with concern. Michael scoffed.

“Fuck you. I don’t need you to take care of me. And I don’t want you to come here. I don’t want to see you, Alex. I don’t want to know you. I don’t want to love you. I’m fucking over this shit,” Michael babbled, sinking backwards into the worn thin mattress of his bed.  He’d misjudged how close he’d been to the window though and his cut arm scraped against the rough edges of the window pane. “Fuck, Ow!”

“Michael!” Alex’s voice trilled in his ear, sounding alarmed and concerned. Michael heard a muffled male voice ask Alex a question and the muffled scrape of Alex’s hand covering the receiver as he answered ‘It’s fine. I’ll be there in a minute.’

“Ugh, I’m getting blood all over my fucking blanket,” Michael said distractedly, sitting back up and looking around for a towel.

“Why are you bleeding? ARE YOU OKAY?” Alex asked, voice beginning to sound frantic or as frantic as he ever sounded. Disaster didn’t really touch Alex the way it would touch normal people. Not after his childhood. Not after what he’d seen with the military.

“I’m FINE. I just cut myself. It just blood, I’ll be fine. Fuck, why is there so much blood?” Michael asked aloud as he grabbed his dirty shirt from the floor to press against the wound.  There were a few scattered drops on his sheets and he’d have to get the hydrogen peroxide to see if he could get them out.

“I’m coming over there, Michael,” Alex snapped. Michael felt himself jerk to attention. He’d forgotten he was on the phone. Alex’s statement made his irrational anger bubble up again.

“Noooo. No don’t come over here. I don’t want to see you. Haven’t you been fucking listening? I…” he breathed heavily, almost seeing the liquor vapors in the air from where he was huffing out his breaths. He tried to summon up the last parts of him that were sober to keep telling Alex to stay away, but instead he started blurting out whatever came to mind. “I haven’t even showered. I’m disgusting. Don’t come over. I’m fine, I’m fine. My bloods just thin from the tequila. You don’t need to care about me. I’m not worth it. I’m disgusting. I’ll be fine. I’ll either wake up tomorrow morning or I’ll choke on my vomit and die. It’s… whatever, really. Stay with your friends. Have a good night, Alex.”

If Alex replied, Michael didn’t hear him because his eyes drifted shut and he was not aware of anything for a while.

  When Michael woke up, he was still aching from his shoulder and he was still very drunk…and he was alone. He looked around the airstream, hoping to see Alex somewhere doing something…something to take care of him. When he didn’t see him and after lying very still in the dark, didn’t hear him, Michael felt his heart shred and shatter in his chest. He was supposed to come save him. He was supposed to come take care of him. He was supposed to show up and love Michael and then tomorrow! Tomorrow he’d feel this way. But not tonight. Tonight, he was supposed to be loved.

The tears fell first, but the sobs that clawed out of his throat came soon after. He hated himself for calling Alex and telling him not to come over. He hated himself for wanting to see Alex more than he ever wanted to save himself from pain. He hated the weak, high-pitched sounds that pushed past his teeth when he tried to stop himself from giving into this despair and he hated the low, open mouthed howls that echoed into the stuffing of his pillow as he rolled into a ball to try and hold himself together even while he knew he was broken beyond repair.

Hands smoothed over his shoulders and started pulling at him to turn over, away from the muffled safety of the pillow. He fought those hands, trying to shake them off even as he tried to curl further into himself. This ghost needed to let him bleed everything out.

“Michael!” a familiar voice called, breaking through his haze a little. “Michael, stop! STOP!”

He stilled, following the command and waiting for something worse to follow. Something worse always followed. It had every time he’d given in to how much pain he was feeling.

“Michael, look at me.”

He slowly opened his tear swollen eyes and looked up at the shadowy figure above him. He didn’t need the dim lights of the trailer to know whose hands were gripping his shoulders even if he hoped he was wrong.

“I told you not to come,” Michael croaked out, embarrassed when his voice broke on the last word. He could hear the weakness and water in his voice. The creaking dam of emotion he still hadn’t cried out threatening to burst back through at any moment.

“Michael,” Alex said his name again, soft and chiding. One of his hands, the one on the uninjured shoulder, rubbed soothingly up and down his arm.

“I don’t want you here,” Michael said again, trying to ignore the way his body was already loosening its cramped curl in response to Alex’s skin on his.

“I know. I know,” Alex agreed, before crawling over Michael and laying himself down with his back to the window. His body faced Michaels on the bed and his hand never stopped its slow back and forth movement over his tricep. “But I couldn’t hear you like that and not come check on you. Where did all of that come from, babe?”

The pet name felt like a puncture in the last piece of his heart that had been intact. He felt his breath shuddering past his lips as he tried to contain himself enough to answer. He must’ve taken too long, because he felt Alex’s body slide closer and arms wrap around him, pressing him into the warm, herbaceous scent of Alex’s shirt. He rested his cheek against the top of Michael’s head and Michael felt their knees brush against each other.  Michael’s fingers uncurled from where they’d been clenched tight against his own chest and he reached forward, wrapping the fabric of Alex’s shirt into his hands as he felt more sobs break free from his body. He tried to keep them quiet, but he knew he wasn’t fooling anyone anymore. At least no one in this trailer.

“Hey, I’m here. I’m sorry I’m here if you really don’t want me to be. But you’re obviously hurting right now. I can’t just let that happen and not see if I can help. We’re friends, right? Friends don’t let each other hurt like this without trying to comfort them,” Alex murmured softly into his hair. Those warm, gentle hands were now petting his hair and rubbing his back. He could feel his muscles loosening and the fight going out of him. He just wanted to melt into the man in front of him. He wanted to be the one who carved out a place under his skin and lived there for the few days they’d have together. He wanted to be the one who left the hollow spaces for once.

“You didn’t tell me you were coming back,” Michael murmured into the space between Alex’s shoulder and neck. “Friends keep in fucking touch. You never tell when you’re coming back and when you’re here, you never stay. You find an excuse and disappear. I always wake up used up and alone.”

“Guerin….” Alex started, sighing heavily.

“Don’t call me by my last name. I get it, I’m just… part of coming back here. A chore you check off your list. You don’t have to keep coming here if you don’t want me, Alex,” Michael finished, uncramping his fingers from Alex’s shirt and starting to pull himself away. He was getting a headache from crying and the liquor and the long day. He was ready to turn over and go to sleep. He didn’t want to do this anymore.

“Michael,” Alex started again, his tone softer than before even as his hands held Michael firmly in place, not letting him draw away. “I don’t know what to say here. You’re not a chore. I will never and have never thought of you as an obligation. I always look forward to seeing you, but we don’t run in the same circles. We never have. And this never goes anywhere because I’m always going to leave. I can’t stay here with you, Michael, I’m sorry. Coming back to Roswell always leaves me feeling like I’ve time traveled and gotten stuck in a time vaccuum.”

Michael felt the burn begin again behind his eyes and his throat start to tighten.

“But when I’m here, I’m yours. You’re one of the only good things I get out of coming home,” Alex finished, finally letting go of Michael and drawing back to lay his head down beside Michael’s on the mattress. Michael felt a tear drip off his cheek as he stared at the fathomless brown eyes staring into his. He hoped Alex hadn’t seen the tear because of the shadow on his face, the dark hiding how much he always hurt when Alex was with him. Sometimes it was knives, sometimes it was ecstasy, but always it was pain.

“I’m yours, too. When you’re here, I’m yours,” Michael finally responded in a small voice, sliding his hands over Alex’s chest and up to cup his jaw gently. He’d decided he had all he could handle of the knives for tonight. Now he wanted the ecstasy. He wanted to hold Alex on his tongue and under his fingernails and inside of him. He needed the memories to get through another three years of his heart being caught in a fist of anxious worry over whether he’d get to see Alex alive again. How much of the Alex he loved would be left after more witnessed atrocities in name of his country?

Alex leaned in, pressing their foreheads together, his breath brushing Michael’s lips and chin. Michael didn’t want Alex to remember him like this.

“Let me up, I’m going to take a quick shower. I really am… pretty fucking filthy right now,” Michael admitted, laughing weakly. Alex smiled and nodded, pressing a kiss to his mouth before sitting up to watch him. Michael sat up, noting that while not trashed, he was still a little floaty. He was sober enough to feel embarrassed about Alex having to come rescue him because he was naked, drunk, and emotional. He stood and managed the two steps to the bathroom, turning on the water in the cubicle shower. He walked in and let the warm water wash over him, the thudding of his heart in his ears as he leaned forward, setting his hands on either side of the shower head. He let his forehead rest against the back of the shower stall while he tried to wrap his mind around the night so far. Another fine mess he’d made. A breeze at his back made him look over his shoulder and he saw Alex stepping into the tiny space with him.  

“I’m not sure this shower is big enough for anything athletic,” Michael commented trying to ignore his bodies near Pavlovian response to seeing Alex naked. Alex hummed at him and wrapped his arms around Michael’s wet torso, pulling their bodies flush together under the water spray.

“I’m just helping you wash your back,” he teased, reaching past Michael and pulling the bar of soap down from the inset shelf. Michael closed his eyes and nodded, trying not to feel overwhelmed at how easy this was when it shifted from emotions to sex. How his body was always ready to forgive the sins and slights his mind had tallied up between them. How starved he was for this feast of flesh between them.

Michael groaned as he felt Alex’s hands start to slide over his wet skin, the bar of soap adding a welcome pressure against his abused muscles. His cock which had started to perk up at the view of Alex naked was starting to harden and strain towards his stomach with every brush of Alex’s body against his. It was impossible for Alex to move without some part of him touching Michael’s in the small space of the airstream’s shower. Michael couldn’t even turn around without them having to negotiate intensely so as not to end up with an elbow in someone’s eye or a knee bruising.

While Michael tried to find his focus, he felt Alex’s hands going over everywhere on him. Those well-defined hands were sliding up and down his back and over his shoulders and arms. His square, thin artist’s hands massaged Michael’s sides and then slid down to dig into the muscles of his lower back, and again lower onto his ass cheeks, dipped his thumbs into his crack and back out and around. He’d replaced the soap on the shelf and then his hands were sliding up Michael’s stomach and over his chest, pulling his back flush against Alex’s body. He felt Alex’s teeth settle onto his shoulder, even as his hips ground forward, his hard cock sliding between Michael’s cheeks making him moan loudly. He reached behind himself and grabbed at Alex’s hip, trying to pull him closer and let him grind harder against his backside. He felt Alex push his cock down, angling it low and letting it slip into the space between Michael’s legs. The spongey, hard tip tracing over his tight pucker and perineum, teasing behind his balls before drawing back. Immediately he closed his thighs as Alex started to pump his hips with earnest, water and soap helping slick the way for Alex’s cock.  With every catch of Alex’s cock on his hole, he felt his sanity slipping from him. He wanted to feel him stretching his insides open, pushing his way in and making a home for himself in Michael’s body.

“Fuck, Michael, you feel so good. I want to be in you, babe. I wish I could just slip in,” Alex gasped into the meat of his shoulder, a hand sliding between their bodies so Alex could press and rub his fingers over where Michael needed him most, “right here. I want to be right here with you. Do you want that, babe?”

Even as his other hand drifted down to land on Michael’s achingly hard cock, Michael was grinding back against Alex’s hand, letting the tip of one finger breach him. It wasn’t enough, but it still felt like being on a better plane of existence. Michael groaned, reveling in the slick soapy slide of Alex’s hand on him and the slow thrusting motions that had been taken back up behind him driving him insane.

“Do you want that, Michael? Can I get you out of this shower and lay you down and take you apart? Make you scream for me? Get you nice and dirty again?”

“Alex,” he sighed, body throbbing with his need for this man. His name felt like a prayer and a curse and he could remember all too well how good Alex was at making him come apart at the seams.

“What do you want, Michael?” Alex asked, stilling his movements and just hugging Michael’s body back against his. He didn’t sound angry, just inquiring, as if he cared what Michael really wanted from him. His breath was ragged against the back of Michael’s ear. He sounded as desperate as Michael felt. Awkwardly, Michael turned and maneuvered until here could partially face Alex. The water was starting to cool in the shower and it only heightened how unnaturally warm his skin was in the small space. Michael looked at the water dripping from Alex’s hair and down his glorious, golden body. He took in the intense stare those dark chocolate eyes had pinned on him and could suddenly see what Mimi had meant. Alex looked like he was trying to figure Michael out, like he was waiting for an epiphany to what all of this meant. Michael knew he must be looking at Alex like he was the answer, because he was. He was the answer to all the questions that Michael had.

He leant in and pressed his lips to Alex’s. He tried to give Alex some of the answer he was looking for in that kiss, using his lips and tongue to spell out the words ‘I love you’. Alex kissed him back, equaling his fervor and clutching at his back and neck to keep him close. When they broke for air, Michael reached back to the shower wall and shut off the water.

“Take care of me, Alex. Love me. Fucking wreck me. Do whatever you want,” he gritted out the last words feeling reckless as he was lunging forward to begin kissing again. Alex hummed his understanding against Michael’s mouth and they stumbled, dripping, out of the shower stall. Michael backed Alex up against the small sink and broke away from his lips to start kissing down his chest and stomach. His knees hit the floor hard and he ran his hands up Alex’s thighs while he stared up into his face. Alex looked down at him in hunger, hand cradling his jaw before Michael leant forward and took the head of his cock into his mouth. His eyes fluttered at the clean taste of his skin and the familiar firm length of him sliding over his tongue. He looked through his eyelashes up at Alex to see him gripping the counter and biting his lip as he watched Michael take him down over and over. This is what power felt like.

On a whim, Michael grabbed the back of Alex’s thighs and pulled him slightly forward as he dove his head in, letting Alex’s cock slip into his throat where he swallowed around it. Alex’s hand shot out, diving into the wet curls on Michael’s head, tugging as he groaned at the sensation. Michael pulled back and slowly worked his way back down the next time, letting Alex appreciate his gag control as his nose brushed the other’s pubes.

“Shit, Michael, if you keep that up I’m going to cum down your throat,” Alex gasped out, failing to stop his hips from a small fluid grind into Michael’s mouth as he looked down at him. Michael pulled back, wrapping his hand around Alex’s prick and continuing to jack him slowly while he answered.  

“Better get the first one out of the way, Alex. I want you to be able to fuck me for hours,” he replied.

“Fuck, Michael,” Alex breathed his name almost reverently, tightening his hand in Michael’s curls momentarily. Michael took his hand away from Alex’s cock, letting it jut into the air between them. Then he opened his mouth, sticking his tongue out and looking up at Alex expectantly. Biting his lip, Alex used his unoccupied hand to grip his dick and feed it over Michael’s tongue and into his mouth. He wasn’t truly thrusting, just letting the hot flesh slide shallowly in and out of Michael’s open mouth. “You’re so good at that, Michael. You’re so fucking perfect for me. I love it when you’re cock hungry and needy like this.”

“Make me yours, Alex. I want you to claim me,” Michael replied after backing off for a moment. He stared at Alex, running his hands over any bit of skin he could reach. He’d never get tired of touching Alex this way. The smooth, tan skin showing off the now familiar muscles the Air Force had trained into him. He took Alex back in his mouth, tongue gliding liquidly over the silky skin and lips pulling him closer to orgasm with every deep swallow. Michael reveled in this feeling of giving Alex what he wanted, what he thought he needed, and knowing if he stopped at just the right time, he could have him begging. But he didn’t want him to beg. He only wanted him to keep wanting to come back.

“Shit, Michael. Oh fuck, just like that, baby. I’m so close. Do you want me to come in your mouth?” Alex asked, breathless and desperate sounding. Michael could tell he was close, could feel the tightening of his body and the final swell starting in his cock before he blew his load. He nodded minutely, catching Alex’s eyes and winking up at him. Alex just whimpered and panted, hips started to stutter against Michael’s mouth, losing their rhythm as Alex’s body started to overload on sensation. Then Michael was swallowing, letting the warm, salty spurts from Alex’s body rest only a moment on his tongue before pulling it in.  He held Alex in his mouth until he finished and calmed down, then slowly backed off, licking the skin clean as he went. Alex twitched from the overstimulation, but Michael was fully aware of how much Alex could handle before it become too much.

“Come here,” Alex breathed as he pulled Michael up from his knees. His kiss was sloppy and slightly uncoordinated since his orgasm, but Michael let him take control of it anyway. He liked Alex like this, sated but still hungry for more.

“Go to the bed, grab lube and a condom, and get on your hands and knees for me,” Alex commanded against his lips. Michael felt a shudder go through his body as he met Alex’s eyes. He loved it when Alex told him what to do. Alex held his gaze for a moment before leaning in towards his ear and whispering, “Go on now. I’ll be there in a minute.”

Michael turned and walked back into the main area of the Airstream. He reached into the drawer under his bed and pulled out the half-used bottle of lube and a condom. He threw them onto the bed by his pillow before crawling forward on his hands and knees to wait for Alex to come out of the bathroom. It wasn’t a long wait and it wasn’t a long walk before he felt Alex’s hands on his hips, thighs warm as they pressed against the back of his own. He pressed his hips back against Alex’s, back bowing and putting himself on display to entice Alex to hurry the fuck up already. A hand smoothed down his back, tracing his spine and then further down into the cleft between his cheeks, fingers once again resting against his hole.

“This where you want me, Michael?” Alex asked quietly, fingers rubbing small circles around the tight ring of muscle. Michael moaned and pressed his body back, needing more. “Use your words.”

“Yesss,” Michael hissed through his teeth, hands coming up to grip at his own damp curls. “Please Alex, I need you.”

“Okay, baby,” Alex said, bending hid body over Michael’s to grab the lube and condoms to have closer to him. He kissed along Michael’s back and ribs as he retreated, his teeth pinching small pieces of flesh between them and making Michael cry out softly with the exquisite pleasure-pain of it. He felt Alex’s body heat draw away from his and heard the scrape and shuffle of Alex moving behind him, but before he could glance past his shoulder to see what was happening, he felt Alex’s mouth on one of his ass cheeks, sucking and marking the flesh with his mouth. A wet finger prodded at his hole and he pushed back trying to let it sink in. Alex moved his finger away with Michael’s movement and he heard himself whining in frustration.

              “I’m sorry, I’m being a tease,” Alex chuckled against the skin of his hip. He gave Michael a quick peck there and then Michael felt the pressure of his finger again. This time it didn’t stop, just slowly, inexorably pushed into him. He bit his lip to stop himself screaming in frustration. Alex slid his finger in and out, finger barely brushing over that bundle of nerves that would have Michael howling and feral if worked right.

              “It’s not enough. More, Alex,” he begged. Alex’s mouth kissed the skin of his hip, then the dimple of his ass, and then closer still to where his finger and leisurely moving in and out of Michael’s body. Michael felt Alex’s lips then, a soft sucking caress on the skin stretched around his finger. Then the strange, erotic slide of his tongue. Michael’s body started to shake at the sensation, his cock giving a hard throb between his legs. Alex’s finger moved out of him and away, moved over to where it could splay over his ass cheek keeping Michael’s body pressed open wide for Alex’s mouth.

              Alex’s mouth was a dream. His hot, wet tongue gave wide, long swipes from Michael’s balls to his hole. He felt his lips sucking on the skin of his pucker, his teeth scraping softly and making him cry out against his forearm. He felt the prod and push of the muscle working its way past the tight ring of Michael’s entrance and spearing into him over and over. Alex’s unoccupied hand came up and wrapped itself loosely around Michael’s red, angry cock. He could feel Alex working his pre around the crown, making his hand slick against the skin as he began working it while he ate Michael’s ass. It was almost too much. He could vaguely hear himself moaning and gasping, his body undulating between the tongue in his hole and the hand steadily milking his cock. He felt a tingle in his core, body starting to tighten on him in anticipation of coming.

              “Alex, wait! I wanna come with your cock in me!” he cried out, even as he continued to thrust back against Alex’s face. The hand on his cock left him and he felt two fingers slip past Alex’s withdrawing tongue to start twisting and testing the muscles inside of him. Alex kept biting and sucking on the skin around his fingers, even as he hastily began to push a third on past Michael’s rim. It was a stretch and stung a little.

              “More lube,” Michael gasped, his body hunching away from the invasion slightly. Alex paused and withdrew his fingers most of the way out of Michael’s body. Michael could feel the cold spill of more lube around his hole and onto Alex’s hand. With the next push inward, the third finger slid in easier and while still a stretch, it didn’t hurt. Alex was twisting and flexing his fingers, trying to make sure he wouldn’t hurt Michael when he finally pushed his cock in, and his knuckles finally skated over Michael’s prostate enough to make him seize up and cough out a shout of pleasure. He knew Alex had gotten the picture when he rubbed his knuckles over the same place again, this time with more pressure.

              “Please, please, please, Alex,” Michael babbled, tears coming to his eyes as he fought down his body’s need to come. Alex was pressing on his spot with every thrust of his fingers now and Michael was fucking himself back on it even though it made him feel like he was about to shake apart.

              “You think you’re ready?” Alex asked, his voice registering rough and strained even through Michael’s sex drunk brain.

              “Yes, please Alex, I need you in me,” he cried.

              “Okay,” Alex sighed, sounding grateful somehow to Michael’s ears. Michael heard the crinkling of the condom packet and then the blunt pressure of Alex’s cock pressing at his hole. He moaned, rocking backwards against the pressure and feeling the head pushing past his outer ring of muscles slowly. Alex’s hands came to rest at his waist lightly, not pulling or directing Michael’s movement, but simply resting while Michael did the work. Michael relished the feeling of Alex entering him, loved that first stretch and burn around the other man’s body. When he felt the head pop past the inner ring, he gasped, rocking forward and backwards over again feeling just the tip of Alex pulling at the edges of him. He heard a curse from behind him and glanced over his shoulder at Alex.

              It was the first time he’d seen his face since they’d started this and he was glad it hadn’t happened until that moment. Alex looked wrecked. His eyes were glued down to where Michael was rocking onto him, lips red and swollen,  face flushed, and abdomen muscles jumping as he tried to control his movements so as to let Michael play with him as much as he wanted. He was rock hard, but he wasn’t desperate the way Michael was.

His eyes flicked up and he saw Michael staring at him. He smiled and bit his lip, pushing his hips forward the next time Michael flexed back and Michael lost his breath as another few inches were pushed into him. His eyes fluttered closed and he turned back to lay his head on his forearms, overtaken with how good it felt to have Alex in him. Alex withdrew, leaving Michael feeling empty, until he pushed in again, giving him more. He continued until Michael could feel his hips flush against him and then he stilled.

“Shit,” he heard Alex curse softly behind him. He flexed his muscles around the mass inside of him and felt the responding, possibly unconscious, grind of Alex against him.

“How do you still feel like this? You always feel like you were made for this, Michael. You always feel like you were made for me,” Alex asked in wonder, pulling back and starting a slow, deep rhythm that made Michael feel like he was going to explode. A hand smoothed up his back and hooked onto his shoulder, pulling Michael’s body with Alex’s and making it feel as he were able to push deeper with every thrust. Then the hand was pulling Michael up, pulling him back so he was on his knees, back bowed and gravity helping to push him down harder onto Alex. He felt Alex’s mouth on his shoulder and neck, his arms wrapping around his chest, roaming over his skin, tweaking his nipples and dipping past his navel to stroke at his drooling cock.

“Alex,” Michael sighed, one hand holding Alex’s head behind him, the other resting on Alex’s hip. “I need more.”

“What do you need?” Alex asked, body still fluidly fucking into Michael’s in that slow, deep draw and push. This position was much better for Michael’s prostate, but it just wasn’t enough. He needed more.

“Harder,” Michael gasped on a particularly pointed thrust, “Faster.”

Alex’s hands went to Michael’s hips to steady him and then he was picking up the pace. Michael felt the moans tumble out of him as Alex’s hips started slapping his, cock pistoning in and out of him, running sharply over his prostate and bringing him back to the crescendo of pleasure.

“Oh fuck, like that. Don’t stop, Alex, fuck, don’t stop,” Michael cried, finally putting a hand on himself and jacking his aching cock in counterpoint to Alex’s thrusts. He could hear Alex’s huffing breath and occasional grunts behind him, could feel his fingers starting to dig into the meat of his muscles, could feel his own body tightening around Alex’s cock, trying to keep him inside of him. His orgasm hit him like a freight train. His vision whited out, his body seizing up around Alex and his cock swelling and releasing over his fingers and palm. He felt Alex fuck him through it, thrusts jagged and almost too much against his prostate, but then he too was groaning like he was dying and slowing inside of Michael. Michael felt pulled back onto Alex’s lap and enjoyed the wet pants of breath against his sweat sheened shoulder blade.

Alex was always languorous and tactile after he came. He would hold Michael against him until he was too soft to stay inside and then he would let his fingers play over Michael’s puffed hole. He would kiss all the sweat from his body and murmur sweet nothings into his skin. Then he could get hard again and they’d go for another round until Michael was too sore or the sun came up, whichever was first. After the last time, sleepy and wrapped around Michael like an octopus, Alex would fall asleep with his head on Michael’s chest, breath softly stirring the golden curls of hair, and Michael would try to stay awake as long as he could because if he fell asleep, like with most good dreams, Alex would be gone once he woke up. Alex would leave while Michael slept, texting him later that he was sorry he had to go before Michael woke, and then he’d leave the country to fight some rich man’s war for him. Michael would once again cover up the place Alex had made for himself in his body and heart. He’d once again drown himself in the arms of others or the bottom of bottles, but that place stayed hidden and safe and waiting for Alex to come back home.

[idreamtofthereaper]

Would You Look at That

pairings: bf!jaemin x jiu-jitsu black belter reader

an: I may have not mentioned this before but I’m a big fan of MMA, and I even train in a few principles of it. And here we go.

--

Jaemin doesn’t look like he belongs here as much as you do.

But if there’s anything the people here don’t want to do, that’s to question and belittle your skills. For those who have been in the gym for as long or maybe longer than you were, looking down on you is the last thing they ever wanted to do, as it maybe the last thing they’ll ever do.

You smiled and waved at a few kids who passed by you, immediately recognizing you as you kept holding Jaemin’s hand, who was busy roaming his eyes to the place.

If you weren’t studying him, you wouldn’t notice how he swallowed and the small beads of sweat forming on his face. But with a slight tug on his hand, Jaemin’s eyes fell to you. “You okay babe?”

“Yeah, I just didn’t expect it to be this crowded- and busy.” He answered, his eyes returning back to the mats in front of him, where your fellow students and fighters were already locking up with each other.

“It’s always like this in the morning, it’s just that when you’re fetching me it’s night and a lot of people already went home.” You answered, pulling him now towards the front desk, where your friend Cat was located and was giving the both of you a smile.

“Hey yn, and who is this?”

“Cat this is Jaemin, Jae, this is my friend Cat. She is also an instructor here.” The both of them smiled at each other and with Jaemin’s free hand, shook hands with her.

After their hands separated, you looked at Cat. “This is his first time, so please assist him as much as you can.” You said, playfully narrowing your eyes as Cat nodded with every word, eyeing Jaemin playfully as well. “I mean it.”

“Okay okay, I’ll get him his gear and pair him with Nick-” Cat said while walking around the cashier, before you interrupted her.

“No not Nick, give him Nate.” You said with a little whine, wrapping your hands around Jaemin’s arm protectively, who was silent the entire ordeal and was only listening.

Cat laughed at your reaction as she leaned at the cashier, looking at you and Jaemin. “Who do you want him to train with them? It’s normal everyone goes through Nick first.”

“Is Nate not available? How about Nate?” You asked again, not wanting Jaemin to be with the other brother.

“Nate is with the kids, he’s not available.”

“Why can’t I do it with you instead?” Jaemin asked naively, looking at you again.

You looked at Cat, who was already looking at you, and the both of you burst out laughing. 

As the laughter died down, Jaemin’s question wasn’t answered.You then peck his cheek as you then fixed the strap of your bag. “You’re funny babe, I’ll leave you with Cat now. Follow what she says, I’ll see you back there.” You gave him another quick peck on the lips as you went to the locker room, leaving Jaemin to Cat with millions of questions still yet to get answered.

You then changed into a different shirt then wore your Gi, wrapping your Black belt securely around your waist as you then put your hair up in a tight bun. After washing your face, you stepped out and head to the mats.

This bring your boyfriend to work thing was something long overdue. Jaemin being his playful self, loves to tease you after your training sessions, saying everything was just easy and if he was there, he would “end everyone without mercy except you, since you’re cute.”

But on your last training session, which was 2 nights ago, he finally decided to join you in one session. 

“REALLY?!” You asked excitedly as Jaemin held the door open for you, grabbing your duffel bag as he let the door close behind the both of you.

Jaemin has a smirk on his face as he nodded. “Yeah, what’s the worse that could happen?”

You greeted your long time training partner Jake as the both of you took the usual spot, near the back and by the edge away from the newcomers.

The both of you talked with each other, passing the time before the next round. As soon as the timer buzzed to signal the next round, the both of you shook hands and proceeded to grapple with each other.

The both of you continued doing drills, before you decided to take a short break. 

You sat up and let your eyes wander, immediately looking for your Pink haired boyfriend.

You then spotted him near the entrance, grappling with another familiar trainee as Nick watched closely from the sides. Occasionally standing up to fix Jaemin’s hold to the other person.

Even from afar, it was hard not to notice how out of breath Jaemin was. You cringe slightly as the other trainee put him in a choke, Jaemin tapping hastily at the person’s arm who then let go immediately.

“That’s your guy?” You looked up and was greeted by Jake, handing you the other bottle of water as the both of you slumped back to the matted walls. 

“Yeah, and I entrust my life to him.” You answered, popping the cap bottle open and took small sips of the water. 

He chuckled at your answer then nodded, holding his hand out. You handed him your bottle as he put it on the corner, near the both of you as to not disturb anybody.

A few hours passed and as noon approaches, less people are in the gym to grab some lunch or to completely finish their session for the day. After caging Jake in a kimura, the both of you decided to take a long break.

You made your way towards Nick, who was watching Jaemin and a new trainee grapple each other. After taking a seat beside him, you noticed an immediate improvement with Jaemin. Well, attitude wise.

Unlike earlier, now he was more calm and collected and wasn’t tiring himself out. Besides this, he was now also more careful but definitely more aggressive with his moves.

“I heard you didn’t want him training under my wing.” You only chuckled at Nick’s words, not loud enough for anyone to hear besides you. Not wanting to distract Jaemin and the other still training.

“Yeah, I asked for Nate. A decision I didn’t knew starting that people should have told me first time around.” You answered, the same volume as you watched Jaemin defend a takedown from the person.

You watched as Jaemin grabbed the person’s back, Nick now instructing him what to do as the trainee defended himself. Jaemin let go when the timer buzz, shaking hands with the trainee as he unsuccessfully put the other in a submission.

He walked towards you, taking the water you extended to him as he took big gulps of water. Nick then proceeded to tell him what went wrong, and what he should do next time. Jaemin nodding at his words, concentrating hard at his words.

“But you didn’t tapped out this time around sot that’s an improvement.” Jaemin faintly smiled at this as he sat down on the mats in front of you.

He looked at you smugly. “See? I told you, I’m a natural.” You only laughed at his comment, ruffling his hair.

“Okay Mr. White belt.” 

“Try me! 30 seconds and I’m sure I’m going to get you.” Nick only chuckled at his comment, followed by you but then nodding. 

“You asked for this.” You replied simply as you went in front of him, looking at Nick to signal for him to count.

Jaemin looked at you with a smirk and even threw you a flying kiss when Nick was counting down to 3. After the words ‘start’ were said, Jaemin then immediately went to you.

You deflected his attacks effortlessly and grab his arm, extending it to his back and arch your back to lock in an armbar. After feeling him tap on your leg, you let go.

Jaemin laid down to the mats with this back as he breathed heavily, you crawling towards him as you stuck your tongue out playfully. “You’re going to do better next time, just give it a few more years, or never.” 

[percysaysfuck]

THREE OLD BITCHES KNIT THE SOCKS OF DEATH

I was used to the occasional weird experience, but usually they were over quickly. This twenty-four/seven hallucination was more than I could handle. For the rest of the school year, the entire campus seemed to be playing some kind of trick on me. The students acted as if they were completely and totally convinced that Mrs. Kerr—a perky blond woman whom I'd never seen in my life until she got on our bus at the end of the field trip—had been our pre-algebra teacher since Christmas.

Every so often I would spring a Mrs. Dodds reference on somebody, just to see if I could trip them up, but they would stare at me like I was psycho.

It got so I almost believed them—Mrs. Dodds had never existed.

Almost.

But Grover couldn't fool me. When I mentioned the name Dodds to him, he would hesitate, then claim she didn't exist. But I knew he was fucking lying.

Something was going on. Something had happened at the museum.

I didn't have much time to think about it during the days, but at night, visions of Mrs. Dodds with talons and leathery wings would wake me up in a cold sweat.

The freak weather continued, which didn't help my mood. One night, a thunderstorm blew out the windows in my dorm room. A few days later, the biggest tornado ever spotted in the Hudson Valley touched down only fifty miles from Yancy Academy. One of the current events we studied in social studies class was the unusual number of small planes that had gone down in sudden squalls in the Atlantic that year.

I started feeling cranky and irritable most of the time. My grades slipped from Ds to Fs. I got into more fights with Nancy Bobofit and her shit faced friends. I was sent out into the hallway in almost every class.

Finally, when our English teacher, Mr. Nicoll, asked me for the millionth time why I was too lazy to study for spelling tests, I snapped. I called him an old sot. I wasn't even sure what it meant, but it sounded good.

The headmaster sent my mom a letter the following week, making it official: I would not be invited back next year to Yancy Academy.

Fine, I told myself. Just fine.

I was homesick.

I wanted to be with my mom in our little apartment on the Upper East Side, even if I had to go to public school and put up with my obnoxious fucking stepfather and his shitty poker parties.

And yet. . . there were things I'd miss at Yancy. The view of the woods out my dorm window, the Hudson River in the distance, the smell of pine trees. Id miss Grover, who'd been a good friend, even if he was a little fucked up. I worried how he'd survive next year without me.

I'd miss Latin class, too—Mr. Brunner's crazy tournament days and his faith that I could do well.

As exam week got closer, Latin was the only test I studied for. I hadn't forgotten what Mr. Brunner had told me about this subject being life-and-death for me. I wasn't sure why, but I'd started to believe him.

The evening before my final, I got so frustrated I threw the Cambridge Guide to Greek Mythology across my dorm room. Words had started swimming off the page, circling my head, the letters doing one-eighties as if they were riding skateboards. There was no way I was going to remember the difference between Chiron and Charon, or Polydictes and Polydeuces. And conjugating those Latin verbs? Fucking forget it.

I paced the room, feeling like ants were crawling around inside my shirt.

I remembered Mr. Brunner's serious expression, his thousand-year-old eyes. I will accept only the best from you, Percy Jackson. I took a deep breath. I picked up the mythology book.

I'd never asked a teacher for help before. Maybe if I talked to Mr. Brunner, he could give me some pointers. At least I could apologize for the big fat F I was about to score on his exam. I didn't want to leave Yancy Academy with him thinking I hadn't tried.

I walked downstairs to the faculty offices. Most of them were dark and empty, but Mr. Brunner's door was ajar, light from his window stretching across the hallway floor.

I was three steps from the door handle when I heard voices inside the office. Mr. Brunner asked a question. A voice that was definitely Grover's said ". . . worried about Percy, sir. "

I froze.

Shit.

I'm not usually an eavesdropper, but I dare you to try not listening if you hear your best friend talking shit about you to an adult.

I inched closer.

". . . alone this summer," Grover was saying. "I mean, a Kindly One in the school! Now that we know for sure, and they know too—"

"We would only make matters worse by rushing him," Mr. Brunner said. "We need the boy to mature more. "

"But he may not have time. The summer solstice deadline— "

"Will have to be resolved without him, Grover. Let him enjoy his ignorance while he still can. "

"Sir, he saw her. . . . "

"His imagination," Mr. Brunner insisted. "The Mist over the students and staff will be enough to convince him of that. "

"Sir, I . . . I can't fail in my duties again. " Grover's voice was choked with emotion. "You know what that would mean. "

"You haven't failed, Grover," Mr. Brunner said kindly. "I should have seen her for what she was. Now lets just worry about keeping Percy alive until next fall—"

The mythology book dropped out of my hand and hit the floor with a thud.

Fuck.

Mr. Brunner went silent.

My heart hammering, I picked up the book and backed down the hall.

A shadow slid across the lighted glass of Brunner's office door, the shadow of something much taller than my wheelchair-bound teacher, holding something that looked suspiciously like an archers bow.

I opened the nearest door and slipped inside.

A few seconds later I heard a slow clop-clop-clop, like muffled wood blocks, then a sound like an animal snuffling right outside my door. A large, dark shape paused in front of the glass, then moved on.

A bead of sweat trickled down my neck.

Somewhere in the hallway, Mr. Brunner spoke. "Nothing," he murmured. "My nerves haven't been right since the winter solstice. "

"Mine neither," Grover said. "But I could have sworn . . . "

"Go back to the dorm," Mr. Brunner told him. "You've got a long day of exams tomorrow. "

"Don't remind me. "

The lights went out in Mr. Brunner's office.

I waited in the dark for what seemed like forever.

Finally, I slipped out into the hallway and made my way back up to the dorm.

Grover was lying on his bed, studying his Latin exam notes like he'd been there all night.

"Hey," he said, bleary-eyed. "You going to be ready for this test?"

I didn't answer.

"You look awful. " He frowned. "Is everything okay?"

"Just. . . tired. "

I turned so he couldn't read my expression, and started getting ready for bed.

I didn't understand what I'd heard downstairs. I wanted to believe I'd imagined the whole thing.

But one thing was clear: Grover and Mr. Brunner were talking about me behind my back. They thought I was in some kind of danger.

The next afternoon, as I was leaving the three-hour Latin exam, my eyes swimming with all the Greek and Roman names I'd misspelled, Mr. Brunner called me back inside.

For a moment, I was worried he'd found out about my eavesdropping the night before, but that didn't seem to be the problem.

"Percy," he said. "Don't be discouraged about leaving Yancy. It's . . . it's for the best. "

His tone was kind, but the words still embarrassed me. Even though he was speaking quietly, the other kids finishing the test could hear. Nancy Bobofit fucking smirked at me and made sarcastic little kissing motions with her lips.

I mumbled, "Okay, sir. "

"I mean . . . " Mr. Brunner wheeled his chair back and forth, like he wasn't sure what to say. "This isn't the right place for you. It was only a matter of time. "

My eyes stung.

Here was my favorite teacher, in front of the class, telling me I couldn't handle it. After saying he believed in me all year, now he was telling me I was destined to get kicked out.

"Right," I said, trembling.

"No, no," Mr. Brunner said. "Oh, confound it all. What I'm trying to say . . . you're not normal, Percy. That's nothing to be—"

"Thanks," I blurted. "Thanks a lot, sir, for fucking reminding me. "

"Percy—"

But I was already gone.

On the last day of the term, I shoved my clothes into my suitcase.

The other guys were joking around, talking about their vacation plans. One of them was going on a hiking trip to Switzerland. Another was cruising the Caribbean for a month. They were juvenile delinquents, like me, but they were rich juvenile delinquents. Their daddies were executives, or ambassadors, or celebrities. I was a nobody, from a family of fucking nobodies.

They asked me what Id be doing this summer and I told them I was going back to the city.

What I didn't tell them was that I'd have to get a summer job walking dogs or selling magazine subscriptions, and spend my free time worrying about where I'd go to school in the fall.

"Oh," one of the guys said. "That's cool. "

They went back to their conversation as if I'd never existed.

The only person I dreaded saying good-bye to was Grover, but as it turned out, I didn't have to. He'd booked a ticket to Manhattan on the same Greyhound as I had, so there we were, together again, heading into the city.

During the whole bus ride, Grover kept glancing nervously down the aisle, watching the other passengers. It occurred to me that he'd always acted nervous and fidgety when we left Yancy, as if he expected something bad to happen. Before, I'd always assumed he was worried about getting teased. But there was nobody to tease him on the Greyhound.

Finally I couldn't fucking stand it anymore.

I said, "Looking for Kindly Ones?"

Grover nearly jumped out of his seat. "Wha—what do you mean?"

I confessed about eavesdropping on him and Mr. Brunner the night before the exam.

Grover's eye twitched. "How much did you hear?"

"Oh . . . not much. What's the summer solstice dead-line?"

He winced. "Look, Percy . . . I was just worried for you, see? I mean, hallucinating about demon math teachers . . . "

"Grover—"

"And I was telling Mr. Brunner that maybe you were overstressed or something, because there was no such person as Mrs. Dodds, and . . . "

"Grover, you're a really, really bad fucking liar. "

His ears turned pink.

From his shirt pocket, he fished out a grubby business card. "Just take this, okay? In case you need me this summer."

The card was in fancy script, which was murder on my dyslexic eyes, but I finally made out something like:

Grover Underwood

Keeper

Half-Blood Hill

Long Island, New York

(800) 009-0009

"What's Half—"

"Don't say it aloud!" he yelped. "That's my, um . . . summer address. "

My heart sank. Grover had a fucking summer home. I'd never considered that his family might be as rich as the others at Yancy.

"Okay," I said glumly. "So, like, if I want to come visit your mansion. "

He nodded. "Or . . . or if you need me. "

"Why the fuck would I need you?"

It came out harsher than I meant it to.

Grover blushed right down to his Adams apple. "Look, Percy, the truth is, I—I kind of have to protect you. "

I stared at him.

All year long, I'd gotten in fights, keeping bullies away from him. I'd lost sleep worrying that he'd get beaten up next year without me. And here he was acting like he was the one who fucking defended me.

"Grover," I said, "what exactly are you protecting me from?"

There was a huge grinding noise under our feet. Black smoke poured from the dashboard and the whole bus filled with a smell like rotten eggs. The driver cursed and limped the Greyhound over to the side of the highway.

After a few minutes clanking around in the engine compartment, the driver announced that we'd all have to get off. Grover and I filed outside with everybody else.

We were on a stretch of country road—no place you'd notice if you didn't break down there. On our side of the highway was nothing but maple trees and litter from passing cars. On the other side, across four lanes of asphalt shimmering with afternoon heat, was an old-fashioned fruit stand.

The stuff on sale looked really fucking good: heaping boxes of bloodred cherries and apples, walnuts and apricots, jugs of cider in a claw-foot tub full of ice. There were no customers, just three old ladies sitting in rocking chairs in the shade of a maple tree, knitting the biggest pair of socks Id ever seen.

I mean these socks were the size of sweaters, but they were clearly socks. The lady on the right knitted one of them. The lady on the left knitted the other. The lady in the middle held an enormous basket of electric-blue yarn.

All three women looked ancient, with pale faces wrinkled like fruit leather, silver hair tied back in white bandannas, bony arms sticking out of bleached cotton dresses.

The weirdest thing was, they seemed to be looking right fucking at me.

I looked over at Grover to say something about this and saw that the blood had drained from his face. His nose was twitching.

"Grover?" I said. "Hey, man—"

"Tell me they're not looking at you. They are, aren't they?"

"Yeah. Weird, huh? You think those socks would fit me?"

"Not funny, Percy. Not funny at all. "

The old lady in the middle took out a huge pair of scissors—gold and silver, long-bladed, like shears. I heard Grover catch his breath.

"Were getting on the bus," he told me. "Come on. "

"What?" I said. "It's a thousand degrees in there. "

"Come on!" He pried open the door and climbed inside, but I stayed back.

Across the road, the old ladies were still watching me. The middle one cut the yarn, and I swear I could hear that snip across four lanes of traffic. Her two friends balled up the electric-blue socks, leaving me wondering who they could possibly be for—Sasquatch or Godzilla.

At the rear of the bus, the driver wrenched a big chunk of smoking metal out of the engine compartment. The bus shuddered, and the engine roared back to life.

The passengers cheered.

"Darn right!" yelled the driver. He slapped the bus with his hat. "Everybody back on board!"

Once we got going, I started feeling feverish, as if I'd caught the fucking flu.

Grover didn't look much better. He was shivering and his teeth were chattering.

"Grover?"

"Yeah?"

"What are you not fucking telling me?"

He dabbed his forehead with his shirt sleeve. "Percy, what did you see back at the fruit stand?"

"You mean the old ladies? What is it about them, man? They're not like . . . Mrs. Dodds, are they?"

His expression was hard to read, but I got the feeling that the fruit-stand ladies were something much, much worse than Mrs. Dodds. He said, "Just tell me what you saw. "

"The middle one took out her scissors, and she fucking cut the yarn. "

He closed his eyes and made a gesture with his fingers that might've been crossing himself, but it wasn't. It was something else, something almost—older.

He said, "You saw her snip the cord. "

"Yeah. So?" But even as I said it, I knew it was a big deal.

"This is not happening," Grover mumbled. He started chewing at his thumb. "I don't want this to be like the last time. "

"What last time?"

"Always sixth grade. They never get past sixth. "

"Grover," I said, because he was really starting to fucking scare me. "What the fuck are you talking about?"

"Let me walk you home from the bus station. Promise me. "

This seemed like a strange request to me, but I promised he could.

"Is this like a superstition or something?" I asked.

No answer.

"Grover—that snipping of the yarn. Does that mean somebody is going to fucking die?"

He looked at me mournfully, like he was already picking the kind of flowers I'd like best on my coffin.

Fuck.

[guigz1-coldwar]

'Uneasy talks' : New chapter for "Redemption in a Spirit in a Cold War" is out !

"Uneasy talks"

"Don't worry....we will get through this.....together !"

Chapter Summary : Yirina debrief with Zasha & Park about their move in her old apartment before driving away to the next location.....

To read it on AO3, click here !

Words : +3500

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

My place....well, it didn't really change at all in three years and I never thought that it will still be up & by the odds, still used but not by the Perseus agents like he transformed my place into another of his safehouses around the world. In here, it was Freya herself that was using that place and by hearing that and with Zasha giving me the proof that she was the one to get here, I have received an lot of questions inside my head, seeing back this apartment and....honestly, it was troubling to be there and to think of all these questions.

I think that since my supposed death, Freya must have moved to my place, living in here from time to time when she's in Moscow for Perseus. She has nearly removed everything from me : my pictures, my old personals belongings....the only thing we saw was an old picture of me & Freya and her necklace in here. Zasha said that it was something that she will never get away from it meaning that Freya....was in town and with realizing that, it was better that we put the things that we took back in place and we got the hell out of here.

Seriously, I would have like to stay to see the place more but that wasn't an option and I wouldn't risk my life for that. Park put the key back under the carpet before we got out of the apartment complex, getting in our car and taking the same seats as before : me at the front passenger seat with Zasha at the driving seat while Park installed herself back behind me but we didn't really drive off immediately from the place...

"So...uhm....are you okay ?"  Zasha asked me as I was in my thoughts, breaking me away from it. My head was holded by my hands and I looked up quickly to them.

"Yeah, I'm okay." I breathed with an small grin on my face but my voice wasn't really following the same mood.

"You're sure ?" They looked at me with narrowed eyes, having their hands on the steering wheel.

"I'm alright, Zed." I affirmed, still using that same voice as before, trying to look away from them.

"Yirina." Park whispered, moving from her seat behind me to get on the one that was just on the middle, feeling her hand on my left shoulder. "We're here for you so you need to tell us if there's something wrong." She said, keeping her hand on mine.

"Hey, you both, I'm okay." I turned around to look at them, lying again before seeing their faces and it was at this moment I realize that I couldn't lie further to them. "No...I'm not good." I sniffed, having an simple tear coming out of my right eye that I clean with my hand. "Why I should be ?" I asked to myself.

"Maybe I shouldn't have this idea to come back here." Zasha thought.

"No, it was good & necessary." I exclaimed, grinning an bit to them as I was holding back my tears. "It's just that....leaving the place without taking anything." I added, thinking about it.

"We could go back in there, if you want." Park suggested, her hand on my shoulder as she move to get close to me but I shook my head.

"No, if we do, Freya will have suspicions that we're in town and only me & Zasha knows well about my old living place." I told her, turning my head to look at her. "Taking something in there, it's too risky and I prefer to keep things peaceful." I stated.

"Besides, since her necklace is here means that she's here too." Zasha proclaimed, having got the same thought as me about the necklace, looking at her. "We may have to limit our trips in the city."

"Yeah, she could spot us in the instant and I don't want that to happen." I continued their argument before I could see on Zasha's face the curious look on it.

"I was wondering, Yirina....how was the call to Freya ?"  They questioned me like that, they should have been thinking of it since I told them of that.

"Well, I don't know how I really feel about it : it was strange and kinda troubling to do this." I responded, biting the left part of my lips as I looked at them and then, Park. "I'm sot sure if I can really do this again but Park said that she will be there."

"And I hope I can be." Zasha chuckled.

"Of course, you will now that you're here." I told them, scratching the back of my head with my right hand.

"By the way, Zasha, what's your opinion on Freya ?" Park demanded to them. Since she has been knowing Zasha, I'm pretty sure that she had an lot of questions to ask.

"To be honest, I rarely saw Freya in my life, she wasn't always there in the country and the few times I saw her was very brief." They replied, gesturing to us with their right index finger and their thumb, mimicking that the time were pretty small. "She wasn't like Yirina who was more present with me than her."

"So, she was an friend without been an big one." Park suggested and Zasha nodded.

"Freya was never into knowing me more further, I think that she didn't wanted to live the desk job life like Yirina." They thought, looking at me to see if I was the same reaction and I raised my shoulders. "Nonetheless, she was an friend." They added, still looking at me.

"Before you woke me up...." I started, changing the subject as it was better for me to not talk about Freya anymore until I was in the right mood. Right now, I was more tired at 2:28AM. "I relived back an memory." I said, getting both attention on me, Park slowly peaking her head as she wanted to know. "Do you remember to have beat some douchebags in the Lubyanka building parking ?" I asked to Zasha and it took seconds for them to remember.

"Oh, I remember." They exclaimed having on their face the biggest realization of what I was talking about, opening their eyes widely. "Beating those mens because they hurt Portnova."

"What happened that day ?" Park demanded.

"Well, fuckers got Portnova an black eye and we did hurt them an lot." I explained, seeing the pictures of the memory in my head. "I remember Zed using an car hood to beat an guy." I added, looking at them as they were quite surprised to have heard that from me.

"And you ? You pratically threw the other guy in one of the car's windows." They told me as Park look at me with wide eyes before I could see Zasha snorting away from us. "Damnit....Yiri...." They whispered, head down, eyes closed.

"Hey, you're alright ?" I put my hand on their shoulder.

"I might think that....we should try to go to her place too." They proposed, making me & Park look at each other, wondering if it was an good idea because in fact, we never know of where Portnova were living today and only Zasha could know of it. "Can we ?" They asked.

"Of course, Zed, we will." Park affirmed, putting her hand on their shoulder too, the one I didn't put my hand on.

"We can go after we checked your old place." I continued, slowly removing my hand from them, redressing myself on the seat.

"Okay." They breathed as they start the car's engine, turning the key. "Seatbelt, everyone." They ordered, causing us to put our seatbelt on before we finally drive off the place.

Honestly, I could feel the pain of Zasha of having to go back to our places....an pain that we were both sharing while Park was there to recomfort us. Me & Zasha....we're both in pain because of our pasts and there's things that we want to fix : it's because of us that Perseus knew about Greenlight and even now, we still need to fix it. Seeing Portnova again is gonna be very hard to live and I hope that everything will go well....it's what I want to hope to be sure of it. I don't want Zasha to live the same thing as me...the brainwashing, everything...no, they can't live this and they will not.

The streets of the city were pretty calm and the time right now can explain that by an lot, we were just seeing some very few cars and an few bystanders still up at this time of the day and like before, our little trio were trying their best to not going back to sleep, yawning & having the radio up even if at one moment, Zasha turned it off because of been tired to listen to the propaganda of the communist party...like me & Park.

As Zasha was the one to drive, they told us exactly where they were living : in the Novogireyevo District at the east side of Moscow, like at the other side of the city like they stated before we took the car away from the warehouse. Then, 10 minutes after we left my place, we arrived at their place and we were unfortunately greeted by something bad.

"No...." Zasha whispered, stopping the car right at where their old place should have been because instead of the apartment complex, it was just an big wasteland under construction.

"The place has been brought down." I looked through the window, seeing at the place. "Shit, something bad just have happen here." I added, putting my eyes on Zasha that was an bit troubled.

"When I lived here, the apartment complex was in an bad state so I suppose that they have destroyed it to replace it with something new." They exclaimed, bitting their bottom lips. "I never liked the place anyway." They breathed, hesitant to open their door.

"We don't have to go out to check the place." Park proposed and me & Zasha nodded. "Do you know where Portnova could be living ?" She asked them, looking curious.

"Yes, in a house in the north of Moscow in the Sokol district." They responded, sounding an bit nervous. "Let's get out of here then." They breathed before they start the car's engine again and driving off the place.

It was bad to see that Zasha's old apartment was destroyed along with the complex to build an new one, it's....very troubling to say, we could have answers in there even if it was very minimal for that. Now, we were going to Portnova's house and to say, I couldn't think right to know if it was an very good idea or an bad one because even if the KGB or Perseus wasn't watching her, it was kind of risky to do so but nothing was stopping us at all, not even ourselves. We arrived at least 10 minutes later at 2:42 AM at what we supposed to be Portnova's house in Moscow and when we stepped out of the car, there were no step back for us...it was too late to do that.

"She isn't there !" Zasha pointed at the garage alley, stepping out of the car with us as there were no car on it.

"So, we can try to break in to see if we can have something." I proposed, crossing my arms as I was looking at the house that was looking very nice to be honest.

"Honestly, it's not an bad idea." Park said in an too normal voice, I think that for her, it must be weird that we are going to break in an KGB officer house in the middle of the night but our line of work, it's an exception, I can say. "If we don't have to break an window." She looked around the house and the street, trying to find anything unusual here....like an car with people inside or strange bystanders.

"We don't have to." Zasha gestured before we start to walk through the street.

"Don't tell me that she also using the trick of the key under the carpet." I sniffed as we got on the sidewalk, next to Portnova's house.

"Oh no, not at all." Zasha reassured me as we entered the path that was leading to the porch of the house. "She's used to hide the keys in an flower pot." They added, making me roll my eyes around....why is everything easy in here ?

"Seriously ?" I breathed, sounding exhausted as Zasha nodded with an grin before they try to look in an big flower pot.

"At least, it's better than hiding it under an carpet." Park told me, nudging me an little in an lovely way before Zasha stand up again.

"Found it !" They exclaimed, showing to us the keys looking relieved before they start to put them in the front door lock, stopping themself.

"Zed." I whispered, moving to put my hand on their shoulder to recomfort them, it was painful for them to do that but we have no choice now. "I'm here...we're here." I affirmed with an little smile, tapping on their shoulder before removing myself from them.

"Okay...moment of truth." They slowly unlocked the door, maybe hoping that Portnova wasn't going to jump us or someone else before Zasha start to get inside the house, trembling. "You can do this...you can do this." They repeated to themself, entering the house as we were just behind them.

When we got inside, I could feel my heart pouding faster like it did back at my old apartment but I never had an memory of me visiting that place so it was an bit weird for me like if I was discovering this place for the first time...like if I was 'Bell'...stop thinking about 'Bell', Yiri !...The entrance was just next to the living room and it was the first room we decided to go, opening the light of it and we could see that it was pretty nice looking here.

"Never changed at all !" Zasha proclaimed, having their hands on their waist as we walk next to one of the two couchs inside the room.

"Always been like that ?" I asked to them.

"Always has been." They replied before they stop themself, their eyes put on an picture....the same picture they had : an group picture of me, Zasha, Portnova, Dedov & even Beans on an dresser. "The old days." They took the picture in hand, looking at it proudly as me & Park moved next to them.

"You were all looking fine !" Park exclaimed with an smile, her eyes on the picture, making me smile about seeing her, looking at this picture. "Who's the cat ?" She demanded, having saw Beans in Dedov's arms.

"Oh, that's Beans." I was the one to respond. "It was Zasha & Dedov's cat at that time." I added as Zasha was putting the picture down.

"There's....." They started to say until we were all surprised by hearing an cat meow in the room and we all look at the door frame, seeing an grey cat...."Beans ?" Zasha asked, confused and the cat meowed to them, sounding good. "Beans !" They said loudly, starting to get to Beans.....it was Beans, THE Beans that Dedov found years ago. "Oh my god, my little Beans, you did really grow up." They stated, taking her in their arms as she was more taller than before.

"Hey, Beans." I waved at the cat with the biggest smile I could have right now. I was so happy to see Beans and it was reciprocate as Beans meowed at me again, with Zasha walking back to us with her in their hands. "Still an baby, it seems." I scoffed, making Zasha smile.

"She's so cute !' Park sounded like so damn good about seeing Beans as I remember that she said that she had an cat before, she was looking so nice, her hands on her face, astonished by Beans.

"Beans, this is Yirina's new girlfriend, do you like her ?" Zasha asked to Beans who looked at Park and Beans meowed again, sounding like an yes.

"Can I hold her ?" Park demanded and Zasha complied, giving Beans to her and honestly, I never saw Park so relieved to hold an cat in her arms.

"It's the first I'm seeing you like that." I stated, surprised by that as Park was holding Beans like an baby, cuddling her.

"We all have our secrets, Yiri." She told me with an lovely voice before she decided to give Beans an bit of freedom. "You want me to hold you like that ?" She added in an funny voice, making me roll my eyes and Zasha to slighlty laugh.

"Uhm...you're already lovely in bed, no need to do that." I responded, making her blush as Zasha continue to slowly laugh before they took back their seriousness with Park, still blushing.

"Okay, we need to check the....."

"What the....." Another voice came in the house.....Portnova's voice, cutting Zasha straight and when we all hear it, we were all frozen in place, unable to move from our positions until Portnova arrive at our sight, in the living room with us, staying frozen like idiots instead of hiding. "What the fuck ?" Portnova said fully, seeing us in the room, chuckling as the situation did became weird to deal with.

"Hi....hi...." I whispered in an low voice, waving slowly at her and biting my lips. Honestly, I couldn't know what to do : jump through an window and escape the house with Zasha & Park but no....me & Zasha slowly start to walk towards her as she was doing the same.

"How.....why ?" Portnova asked, sounding confused until we got all, except Park close. Portnova looked at me with wide eyes and to Zasha too before focusing back on me. "You....you...." She didn't finished that she literally slapped me in the face with her hand, I wasn't angry, I did understand why she did this. I hold the part of the face that she slapped, looking sad and holding back my tears.

"Yiri..." Zasha breathed, stressed and then, Portnova also slapped them in the face too, same part of the face, she was angry to us, we just popped up back in her life like that and I was understanding why.....Zasha, they were having tears in their face, almost crying that Portnova did this.

"3 years ! 3.....FUCKING.....YEARS !" Portnova raised her voice against us as me & Zasha were looking down while Park wasn't moving too, seeming that Portnova didn't see for the moment. "3 years that I thought my friends were dead....3 years that I'm alone !"

"I'm sorry." I said in an low voice, holding my face.

"You're sorry ?" She asked me, looking in rage. "You promised to me that you were going to come back after your mission in Turkey in January 1981." She stated as in me, I realize that something or Perseus himself send me away from the USSR, avoiding me to save Portnova. "3 years that I've been wondering why no one was coming to get me out of here."

"I'm sorry, I fucked up." I repeated, holding back my tears on my face as Portnova look at Zasha.

"And you, you didn't do an thing." She exclaimed before Zasha start to really cry, getting sit on an couch and Portnova was an bit troubled as I could see on her face despite that she kept her angry face before she looked behind me. "You....who are you ?" She asked to Park.

"Uhm...I'm their friend...." She replied, not sure of her words before she decide to walk next to me. "I'm....Helen Park..." She added, bitting her lips.

"And why are you all here ?" Portnova questioned to the three of us, keeping her angry tone towards us.

"We...we are trying to save you from Perseus." I responded, sure of my words despite the sadness still in my voice, seeing Zasha crying on the couch, their head in their hands. "I fucked up and I'm sorry." I repeated again as Portnova was seeming to calm herself down an bit.

"And it took you 3 years to come back here ?" She raised an eyebrow to me.

"Listen, it's complicated and...an long story...." I answered, taking an quick look at Zasha & Park with the latter yawning. "Maybe it's hard for you to see you but we're here to fix our mistakes....my mistakes." I sniffed, tired because I needed only sleep right now.

"Maybe...." Portnova looked away, seeing Beans coming back in the room. "You can tell me what you have been doing for 3 years but it seems that the three of you need some sleep." She then pointed to the two couchs that was in the room. "You're gonna stay here and sleep in those couchs." She was more sounding like an order she was given instead of an real advice to us.

"Yes." I snorted, complying to her orders and getting sit on the opposite couch from Zasha's one with Park as Portnova stayed at the same spot, looking at us with desesperated eyes, her hands getting on her waist and honestly, she was looking deadly.

"Now, if anyone tries to leave this house, I'm killing them myself, understood ?" We all nodded to Portnova's order until she took an deep breath, seeing Zasha cleaning the tears on their faces before looking back at me with serious eyes.....

"You better have an bigger story to tell, Grigoriev !"

[geeky-introvert]

Numb . Ivar X OC X Hvitserk

Summary: There was no one else left in her life, alone to defend herself she settles in York, but only for a short time before the Heathen’s came. This is how Talitha’s life changed when two brothers take an interest in her, and she can’t help but feel wanted by them….One-Sot

Word count: 4908

In this story the OC has a rare condition called Congenital Insensitivity to Pain, and for those who don’t understand that it just means she can’t feel pain, heat or cold. I’ve tried to do as much research about it so I hope I’ve done alright.

Warning: Violence, swearing, smut and threesome.

Tag List: @lisinfleur @mdlady @didiintheblog @alicedopey @lupy22 @rekdreams247 @mblaqgi @oddsnendsfanfics @aphnxrising​ @happydaysandersen​ @therealcalicali​ @naaladareia​ @inforapound​ @captstefanbrandt​ @waiting4inspiration @tabalugax @p8tn0lish

If anyone else wants to be added to the tag list let me know please.

Since the day she was born pain was unknown to her. It was a struggle growing up. Talitha was different from others, but not by appearance, it was something much different. There was never an answer for why she was the way she was. For as long as she could remember she has been told she was the devils worshipper, but she didn’t want to be, however that was what many people thought of her to be when rumours started to spread.

Growing up wasn’t easy. She never knew her father and was an only child. Her mother did whatever she could to protect her only child from the harsh world. However, the flu got her mother not even two years ago and took her away. Left to defend for herself she chose to settle in the town of York. There she pleaded with the people of the church and priest that she wanted to cleanse her sins and give herself to god, if it meant for her own survival. In the end she was allowed to say but only as a servant for the church, or a slave since she wasn’t being paid anything.

All she got in return was old bread and a spot to sleep in the barn. She thought those were her only options in life. Talitha simply didn’t know what else to do.

Over the next year she grew used to the life and kept to her own, ignoring everything around her as she focused on surviving. Today was important. It was November first, All Saints Day, and the bishop of the church was expecting her to clean the church from ceiling to floor which was why she woke up hours before the sun rose.

It was hard work but she managed to get it done to the bishop’s satisfaction. As a reward she was given mouldy bread and was told to stay when everyone gathered. The bishop thought it might be good for her to ask god for forgiveness and cleanse of her sins, and hope for whatever curse this was would finally go away.

She didn’t hold her breath but she had to try, there was nothing else for her anyway.

As the people gathered into the church everyone remained silent as the bishop spoke aloud. Talitha stood aside in the corner, head bowed and eyes closed, silently praying to god.

Sometimes she wondered why she bothered but her mother always told her to never doubt herself or her place in life. Her mother was her world and she was taken from her, leaving her with nothing but only memories.

Her thoughts were interrupted by a woman’s screams echoing throughout the church. She turned around only to see more people screaming as a large group of people slashed their way through the crowd. She stood frozen, unsure what to do or how to react. Just judging by their clothes she could tell they were Heathen’s. Talitha felt her heart pound against her chest as the seconds went by as everyone was slaughtered.

She couldn’t move and stood there frozen until she was shoved back by a bulky Heathen who pushed his way through without noticing her. With her shaky hands she managed to pull herself out of their stomping feet and up against the wall. Blood soaked up her dress and covered her hands from the blood bath happening in front of her. It was madness.

Looking down at her leg she realised that there was an arrow sticking out from below her knee embedded into her skin, blood was already dripping down from the wound. She could only gasp at the sight of it, but she couldn’t feel it. That’s what people worried about her unable to feel any sort of pain. There was also many scars covering her hands and arms from accidents from a young age, and now she has another to add, if that is if she survived the Heathen’s attack.

She looked up, watching with heavy breaths as the blood bath continued. There was a nun that was pulled by her leg down the steps as the Heathen pulling her laughed out loud in a humours matter. The nun was going to be raped, and she could only watch everything happen before her until it was over, and her death was given, if she wasn’t raped before she was killed that was.

It felt like hours and it probably was before the Heathen’s stopped the slaughter and started looting from everyone. Talitha could only hear the cries of a baby and the whimpering from some of the women who survived, huddled together and praying. She couldn’t even think anymore as she was ignored by everyone. There was no importance for a useless girl like her.

Something made her look up and noticed that someone was staring right at her. She felt his burning blue gaze on her, lingering over her body, and within seconds he was crawling his way towards her. It was like watching a snake slither, or a demon crawling up from hell, either way it made her heart skip a beat as he got closer to her.

The young man grinned at her with his face covered in blood. She watched as he killed the bishop, or poured melted gold into his mouth which ended up killing him then. He crawled up beside her and sat down huffing softly as he moved his fingers over his braided hair and glancing down at her leg where the arrow was.

“You don’t seem to be in any pain, Christian, and yet you have an arrow in your leg.” She was shocked that he knew her language so well and continued to listen to him as he went on. “Tell me beautiful, how much does it hurt?” His voice was mocking, he was teasing her as he purposely poked the arrow, but she didn’t give any reaction, just simply swallowed the lump in her throat.

“It doesn’t hurt…” She did wish she could feel it, just to know what pain felt like. His amused chuckle wasn’t settling.

“Really now?” He gave the arrow another poke, harder and watched for her reaction. When she didn’t give him he narrowed his eyes at her. “Huh? How is it you don’t feel that?”

“I…I don’t know. It was how I was born.” Her voice was so quiet, shy, and felt scared being in the position she was in. “A-are you going to kill me?”

The man continued to stare, studying her through her eyes as his fingers continued to poke at the arrow. More blood was drawing out but she didn’t react, thinking he was waiting for a reaction from her. She just stayed still and let him, there wasn’t much else she could do anyway.

Suddenly, he pulled the arrow out causing her to gasp. It happened so fast. She stared at the arrow head where her blood dipped from and looked at him, waiting for what was to happen next. Much to her horror he licked the blood from the arrow and moaned lowly like it was satisfying to him.

She looked on in disgust at him as he threw it aside and shifted closer to her, licking the blood from his lips with his curios eyes staring down at her.

“I am Ivar, Ivar the Boneless. What is your name?” His sudden change did catch her off guard, and his name was recognised from rumours she’s heard. Ivar brushed away some of her loose hair behind her ear and his rough fingers brushed over her cheek, making her swallow thickly from his tender act.

“Talitha.” His smile grew and he bit his lips.

“Well, Talitha. Today is your lucky day. I’ll be keeping you, you’re now my pet. Don’t you feel grateful?” He said as he tore some away some fabric and wrapped it around her leg like he suddenly cared.

“Pet?” It slipped out before she thought about it.

“Yes, you now belong to me.” He tied the fabric and leaned closer to her, his nose almost touching hers. “Now, can you behave for me? I’ve spared your life, you should be thanking me.”

Talitha looked down at her leg and nodded her head, quickly accepting his words. “I promise to behave. Thank you, Ivar.”

“That’s a good girl.” He seemed rather pleased with her response and even petted her head like a dog. Her life was changing once again, and she didn’t know what to expect out of this one.

Ivar waved over another Heathen and spoke in their tongue to each other. Next she was then lifted in the Heathen’s arms and carried away from the blood bath in the church. She didn’t fight it, move or say anything. All she did was just accept it and allowed herself to be taken away.

The town of York was taken by the Heathen’s, people slaughtered while others taken as slaves. This was the new life in York.

Talitha never expected what had happened after she was taken away. She had her wound tended and was given a bath by other slaves, then a dress, so beautiful and clean, then had her hair done up nicely making her feel like she was important. She wasn’t used to that and she didn’t know how to react, so she just sat there and let them do their thing.

Hours later she was taken to the large hall where things were already being set up quickly as the Heathen’s made themselves right at home. She was taken in by the same guard that carried her and when they entered she was greeted by Ivar and a few other men around the table that was piled up with food. The sight of it made her stomach gurgle and she placed her hands over her stomach in hopes it wouldn’t do it again.

When Ivar saw her he grinned widely at her.” Ahh, there she is! Come, sit with us my pet.” He pulled out a chair and she sat down next to him. Looking up she saw an older man with dirty blonde hair looking at her and Ivar with confusion. She then looked over to the other one, and recognised him as the man who dragged the nun away to rape. His stare and lazy smirk at her made her nervous and she quickly looked away down at her scarred hands where she twirled them together.

“Are you hungry, pet?” Ivar asked pushed a plate full of food in front of her. She looked at him and at the food, thinking there was a catch, but he just waited for her to eat. Her hunger took over and she started to carefully eat at the chicken pieces.

She couldn’t remember the last time she had such taste chicken. As she ate she heard the three men talking in their own language and she knew it was about her as they pointed and stared in her direction. Talitha finished the piece she was holding and went to pick up another only to have her hand grabbed by Ivar.

He noticed the scars.

As he examined them she swallowed the food in her mouth and looked at the men once more. She assumed they were brothers, they did look alike and she admitted to herself that they were all pretty handsome, even Ivar.

“These burns, how did you get them?” He asked as his rough fingers ran over her palms.

“I was young; I don’t even remember them really. My mother told that I liked the glow from the hot coals and would want to touch them. Sometimes she didn’t notice until it was too late.” I swallowed thickly and shifted in my chair. No one’s really asked about my scars before.

“Hmm, interesting,” he spoke to himself as he unexpectedly kissed her palms. The jester was kind and she felt a strange about it. These men killed and raped her people and now she was eating with them. It didn’t sound right.

“Why the girl, Ivar?” She glanced up to realise that Ivar wasn’t the only one who knew her language.

“Because, Ubbe, she’s special. She doesn’t feel any pain and I find that fascinating.” It did confuse her that he found her interesting like that. She saw the confusion from this Ubbe and felt herself look away from him, feeling suddenly shy.

The other man continued to stare at her like she was a piece of meat and Ivar slowly realised this. “See something you like, Hvitserk?”

“She’s pretty, can’t help myself.” She started to wonder if they were speaking her language on purpose so she understood everything. “Do you plan on sharing her?”

Talitha felt her heart drop from his words and glanced at Ivar from the corner of her eyes, holding her breathe for his answer. His hand was then on her thigh, rubbing her as he only briefly thought about it before smirking.

“Maybe, brother, just maybe.” He did that on purpose to imitate her, she knew that.

Just what had become of her in this new life and what did the Heathen’s plan for her?

Talitha found herself sitting in a very large and luxurious bed. It had been weeks since the Heathen’s took over and she had been Ivar’s new pet, though he didn’t treat her like a dog, that she was thankful for but he sure did like calling her ‘pet’ every chance he got.

The town had quickly been rebuilt and stocked again from the attack, and it was today that Ivar had sent her to his room for a bit and he’d come later. She was confused how she was feeling towards them.

She should hate them, and yet she felt herself starting to like there company. There was no doubt she was going to hell for her sins. But besides her mother, no one’s ever really liked what she was besides Ivar. He seemed to be highly fascinated by it and had her at his side for almost every day for hours before allowing her to do her own thing.

No one was ever aloud to touch her, he made that clear. His brother, Hvitserk would always look at her, eyes lingering over her body and smiling. One day she felt herself smile back at him without realising it and he seemed too really like that. It just happened, there was no excuse. Admitting to herself, he was very handsome, most of them were.

It was these thoughts that she was told all her life that were forbidden but she could help herself. She thought maybe that she wasn’t meant to be a Christian. It was a silly thought, but she did ponder about it.

Ubbe was kind but he never looked at her like that. He was caring, that’s the way she put it. He made sure Ivar was taking care of her and that no one bothered her as well. She didn’t think he was interested in her in that way, unlike Ivar and Hvitserk. Then Ivar told her that he was happily married and was a true man, not the kind to sleep around.

Now, she sat on the bed after eating dinner. She noticed some weight had been gained around her from the food she was eating. Never had she felt so full, it felt nice to have decent meals for once. As she was lost in her thoughts the door to the room opened and she looked over to see Ivar and Hvitserk come in.

Ivar crawled his way towards her and pushed himself onto the bed. Hvitserk came in front of them and sat up on a table, watching her. She looked at both brothers feeling unsure why they were there together in the room with her, feeling herself shift on the bed nervously.

“Talitha, let me ask you something.” Ivar started as he scooted closer and rubbing his hand over her thigh making her breath shutter. “Are you a virgin?”

She bit her lips, thinking about it for a moment. “I…Y-yes.” It was embarrassing to admit it.

Ivar looked at Hvitserk and both nodded to each other. “We both want to fuck you. You’re beautiful and Hvitserk has asked me more than once to share you. Do you want to have sex with us?”

She was feeling something she never felt before. There was a strange feeling in her, like her stomach was twisting into knots but in a nice way. It tingled where it was most forbidden at the thought of what they wanted to do with her. They were asking her though, they would have her whenever they wanted and yet they were asking if she wanted to have sex with them, two men.

Her eyes looked at Ivar and back at Hvitserk, feeling scared and uncertain if this was what she really wanted. “I…You’re both very handsome, a-and have been good to me.” She admitted while biting her lips and not missing their proud grins when she called them handsome. “I-I’m just not sure what to do.”

“That’s alright, neither does Ivar.” Hvitserk said so bluntly and Ivar shot him a glare. “What? It’s alright brother. I’ll show you both how it’s done. No shame here.”

Ivar rolled his eyes and looked back at her. “So, what do you say, pet? Do you want to be ravaged by Heathen’s?”

It should scare her, after everything they did she should be terrified and yet she didn’t. Maybe a little scared, but she felt more thrilled, excited at the thought of two very handsome men taking her in bed. She looked at both men, thinking about it before she felt herself nod shyly at them.

There was no going back.

“Good.” Ivar smiled lightly before he turned her face towards him and kissed her. She quickly leaned into the kiss, placing her hands over his shoulders as she savoured the tender touch from him. His tongue pushed passed her lips and she was met with his musky smell when she inhaled through her nose and tasted him with her own. Her soft moan made him smirk against her and moved away from her lips while chuckling softly.

Hvitserk stepped forward and sat down on the bed on her other side. She turned around to face him only to feel his hands cupping her face and leaning forward to kiss her. It was a little different from Ivar, but both were nice. The feel of his moving lips over her own made her let out another moan against him while Ivar behind her rubbed her waist. Shivers broke through her at the feel of both men touching and kissing her, it sent pulses she never felt before, it was addicting.

When Hvitserk moved away from the kiss he stood up again and removed his tunic leaving him bare chested for her. She gasped at his toned chest and even felt her mouth water a little much to her shock. Behind her Ivar did the same and she face him to see his smooth chest herself.

Automatically she reached forward and touched his smooth chest under her fingers. He bit his lips as he watched her, satisfied by how things were going so far.

“Talitha,” Hvitserk spoke her name gently. “Now it’s your turn.” He helped her stand and started to unlace the dress she worse. Her eyes didn’t leave his, worried that she would chicken out from what was happened in the room. She suddenly felt the dress pool around her ankles and her arms rose up quickly to cover her breasts from his gaze. “Looks like your pet is shy, Ivar. We’ll change that.” He moved her arms away from her exposed breasts and let his eyes linger over her perky breasts. “You’re so beautiful and innocent.”

“Quit hogging the view, Hvitserk. I want to see her.” Ivar complained before she turned to face him, letting him look at her naked body.

Ivar stared at her and over the scars she had received over the years. None were given by battled, but only because she was curios and very clumsy. She saw that they didn’t seem bothered by it and focused on her nakedness. It felt weird being so exposed, and yet it was still thrilling, in a way.

“How do we decided who has her first?” Hvitserk asked coming up behind as he kissed her shoulder softly. That was the question. Who was she going to lose her virginity to?

Ivar looked like he was thinking about it for a moment before nodded. “You may have her first.” Hvitserk seemed surprised by his answer. “What? You’ve experienced and I’m not. I want to watch first and learn before I have my turn anyway.”

Hvitserk smirked and leaned over her shoulder, kissing her neck as he rubbed his groin against her plump rear. Talitha breathed heavily as she felt his harden cock rubbing up against her as his hands rubbed over her waist. His lips brushed over the shell of her ear making her whimper a little from the contact and lean back against him.

“Lay down, beautiful.” He whispered. “I’m going to show you how we Heathen’s kiss our women in the north.”

She didn’t say anything but did wonder what he meant. Obeying she laid back against the bed and furs and looked down as Hvitserk knelt in front of her while pushing her legs apart. Ivar watched on curiously from his position as his brother positioned his face between his legs where her twitch core was. Talitha whimpered from the exposed position she was in and suddenly felt scared that she was making a mistake.

Ivar noticed this and laid down next to her where he started to kiss her, assuring that she was alright. Hvitserk kissed right above her core against her curls before swiping his tongue over her folds and against her clit. She let out a started cry that was silenced by Ivar’s mouth. He kissed her while Hvitserk lifted her legs over his shoulder and dipped his tongue over her moist core.

Hvitserk hummed lowly against her, sending shivers and thrills through her quivering body. His tongue dipped into her entrance where he swirled his tongue around drawing out juices from her. She had never experienced something like this before and didn’t want it to stop. Her legs wrapped around his head, holding him close as he lapped against her sex. Ivar started to kiss against her neck allowing her to moan and whimper out while Hvitserk ate her out.

“You make the most amazing sounds, pet.” Ivar softly said against her ear as he looked down at his brother. Hvitserk continued to tongue fuck her core, holding her hips down, ravaging her as more juices spilled from her.

Ivar grabbed her hand and moved it towards his trousers where his cock was, slowly hardening and twitching as she touched him. She gasped from the contact and breathed heavily feel a little overwhelmed by everything that was happening.

Talitha’s hand rubbed over Ivar’s trousers where his cock grew and moaned as Hvitserk suckled her core. When he moved away she squirmed a little making the two chuckle at her.

“You’re very needy, pet.” Ivar let out an amused smirk as Hvitserk stood up and removed his trousers before crawling up over her.

“Lay on your side, so my brother has a good view.” She turned around to face Ivar as Hvitserk settled himself behind her, lifting her leg up over his hip as his throbbing cock pressed against her moist folds.

Talitha tried to keep her breathing even and her eyes on Ivar as he stared right back at her. She felt pressure, no pain which was expected, and felt his cock push up into her past her virtue and fill her. She felt full from his cock and let out a shaky breath against Ivar’s face. Behind her Hvitserk moaned as he started to thrust, his cock moving back and forth in her, sending pulses of pleasure through her core making her moan herself against the Heathen’s in bed with her.

“How does she feel?” Ivar asked as he watched closely.

“So tight, so fucking tight, she feels amazing.” Hvitserk panted against her ear as his thrusts started to pick up. The sound of his groin hitting her rear filled the room along with their heavy breathing and moans. She held onto Ivar’s arm as Hvitserk fucked her hard, pleasured moans falling from her mouth never feeling something so amazing before.

“How does it feel, pet?” Ivar asked quietly grinning down at her rocking figure.

“So good…It feels so good!” She admitted without shame not caring about it other than the cock fucking her senseless.

“Oh fuck!” Hvitserk cried out as he shot his seed within her depths and continued thrusting until she reached her end. Talitha whimpered before letting out a startled cry and clenched around his cock, milking him as he pulled out from her with a heavy sigh. Ivar watched as he juices mixed with his brothers seed leaked out from her gaping core. His cock was painfully hard and he wanted to fuck his pet.

“Hope you’re not too tired, pet. It’s my turn now.” Ivar said as Hvitserk rolled away from her and allowing Ivar to lay Talitha on her back with him crawling on top of her.

Ivar kissed her, moaning as he pushed his hand between them to pull his trousers down, only enough to free his throbbing cock. Maybe one day he’ll show her his legs.

Talitha panted as she spread her legs for him and felt his cock enter her fully in one thrust. She moaned from the sensation of being filled by another and threw her head back against the furs with her legs wrapped around his waist. She wanted to be fucked again, to feel her crashing orgasm once more like she did with Hvitserk.

“Oh fuck. This feels amazing. My beautiful pet, you feel so good.” Ivar praised her as he started to move his hips against her, thrusting his cock back and forth into her.

Hvitserk leaned on his side as he watched them, licking his lips with lustful eyes. He hoped that Ivar will share her a lot with him, for he understood why Ivar liked the special girl so much. No words were said on how to have sex towards Ivar, he picked it up pretty quickly, and so he just watched and enjoyed himself.

Ivar moaned and huffed into her neck as he fucked her hard, earning loud moans of pleasure from her as she felt another orgasm build up in her.

“It feels so good! So fucking good!” Her unexpected words made both men chuckle at her and Ivar slapped her arse making her yelp from the sharp contact, that also strangling gave her another thrill.

“Naughty pet should watch her words.” Ivar chuckled as he thrust his cock into her more harshly feeling his cock twitch wrapped around her warm core.

Talitha cried out as she felt her orgasm crash down on her once more with Ivar still thrusting with harsh predatory growls before giving a final thrust and let out a loud cry as his seed coated her depths.

Ivar pulled out and landed on his back with a heavy huff with his eyes staring at the ceiling. He was pleased with himself that he was able to pleasure a woman, and this young woman was his beautiful pet and his forever, and would probably share her with Hvitserk as well, but no one else.

After the steamy heavy sex all three stayed in the large bed together with Talitha asleep against Ivar’s chest and her leg tangled around Hvitserk’s with his chest pressed up against her back. Hvitserk and Ivar were also in deep sleep, pleased how the night turned out for them.

Talitha never wanted to leave. She felt right at home with them and never wanted to lose that. Not when it all felt so right and amazing. Softly she nuzzled against Ivar’s chest, humming softly as she dreams on how good the future will be with them, even if it meant being as their pet. She kind of liked it anyway.

[skiesoftwilight]

Strength (Alexios)

Word Count: 1729

••••••••••••••••••••••••••

“Alexios, please,” You pleaded with your mercenary friend, your (E/C) eyes staring at him intently, watching his every move, “Let me help you just this once.”

“No, absolutely not,” Folding his arms across his chest, he turned to look at you with no emotion on his face; his deep brown eyes seemed endless as his gaze met yours, “this is not your mission, it is mine and mine alone.”

A frustrated sigh escaped your lips while you unfolded your arms and placed your calloused palms on the wooden table between you two.The map and his written plan of sneaking into a stronghold to meet with a woman who might have information on his next cultist had many scribbles next to it, most of them implying that a change of that section of the plan needed to be changed; that  dumb map and plan  was the source of your arugment. Bowing your head, you stared at your sandals, before lifting your head up to stare at Alexios once again, but with a softer gaze.

“Alexios, I can handle myself, I have proven it to you many times back in Megaris, please.” You leaned forward on your palms, looking more closely at his emotionless features instead of deeper into his eyes. While your eyes grew slightly wider since the conversation had begun minutes ago, he had no identifiable emotion that you could read and it was making you crazy; you knew there was a deeper meaning to his bland protests, but you could not find it.

“Megaris was a warm up and we arrived when the Spartans were finishing off the Athenians,” He stated, letting his gaze wander to the map on the table; his arms remained crossed, letting himself keep his own guard up physically. “You fought a couple of novice soldiers, maybe an experienced fighter, but you are not ready for what I have been facing since Athens.”

A scoff came from deep within your throat as you pushed yourself off of the table and took a few steps back to give Alexios a hard glare, “You have no faith in me, do you not?” He chose not to say anything, “You believe that I am not strong enough to take on what we have been fighting since setting foot in Megaris? I have been with you every step of the way since Kephellonia and you say that I do not have the strength for what is coming but you do? We survived Athens together and in order to do so, we both paid a price.”

The room filled with silence as the air grew tense and the weight that was only your chest since the argument started was growing heavier and heavier the more your mind focused on the negatives. Alexios’ silence was stressing you out and you just needed to get him to show you some type of sign that he was listening.

“You are not the only one that lost something in Athens… she was a part of me too.”

A shift in his stance, that was all you got to show you that he was affected by your words. He bowed his head before letting his hands touch the top of the wooden table. He didn’t say anything, but something was clearly on his mind as he let out a disgruntled sigh before looking away from your presence.

“No.” His voice was gruff and low, “Not now, we’ll discuss that another time, just like this conversation.”

Your shaky hands ran through your hair before curling inward up your chest to let your fingertips rest on your chin; a look of disappointment and anger was the only emotion you could manage.

“You are unbelievable, you know that? I want to resolve this problem of ours and help you along with your journey and you want to push me away. I keep telling you that you do not have to do this alone, but it seems you are determined to do so.”

Without another word, you stepped away from the table and made your way to exit the captains, quarters of the Adrestia and stormed up the steps to get some fresh air on the deck; you didn’t expect your night to consist of a heated argument and Alexios’ true thoughts about you coming out.

Standing on the bow of the deck, you let your calloused hands grip the railing and let your body move with the soft waves that careened the ship. It was soothing you and with the cool ocean breeze running it’s wispy fingers through your hair, you were beginning to relax and let yourself forget about the argument.

The soft creaking of the floorboards behind you made you alert and as they got closer, your heart began to beat faster, but you didn’t want to give off of the fear you were feeling. The sot clinking of metal gave away the identity of the stranger behind you and once again, you were thrown into an offensive guard.

“You came to get the last word?”

“No,” the mercenary’s voice was soft, yet gruff, “I came to speak with you on a peaceful note, to try and fix our problems before they divide us.”

Without turning to look at him, you waved your hand for him to continue while you chose to remain silent as he did back in his quarters.

“I know that things have been stressful on both of us since fleeing Athens… it was unexpected, the things that had happened there.”

You bowed your head as her small cheeky smile filled your thoughts… “It was unexpected, yet we always told ourselves to even be prepared for those types of things…”

“Phoibe…” Alexios paused, getting choked up at just speaking her name, “she was never supposed to be in that Godforsaken city to begin with… it was my fault alone that she was there, if she did not see me leave Kephellonia, she would have never been inspired to follow me to begin with.”

“I can share your guilt too, Alexios,” You spoke softly, trying not to let your voice break, “I should have stayed with her, so she did not have to face the world alone, but I did not.”

A hum came from Alexios’ throat as he approached you by the railing, standing only a few feet beside you to give you sace just as he needed his.

“Losing her…it was painful. I lost one of the people I love dearly in this world and I know the Gods will never give her back.” Alexios’ voice wavered as he looked down at the black waters keeping the ship afloat. “I do not ever want to feel that type of pain ever again.”

Your soft gaze drifted to the side of Alexios’ face while he looked straight off into the horizon. Seeing him visibly vulnerable in such a stressful time had made you stop for a moment yourself and let yourself relax from pestering him about doing things alone or secretly, you knew that he was trying to prevent any more painful deaths from happening.

“Alexios…”

“When I said those things about you not being able to fight or to handle the things that we have been weathering so far, it was a lie. I tell myself that to protect you from me pulling you into anything too dangerous or putting you in a difficult position. You are such a strong woman to fight through all these lies and men and still be able to see a bright side in the things we do. I have too much faith in you it could kill you if I pushed it to the limit.”

You approached him slowly, careful not to make him close up and cut the conversation short and stood beside him silently. His steady breathing reassured you that he wasn’t getting too emotional or letting his guilt eat him alive, but you gently took his hand in yours and gave it a firm squeeze to let him know that you were beside him.

“You are the other person I love dearly and if I were to lose you…” Alexios paused and closed his eyes; your other hand reached up to cup the side of his face that was bathed in rich moonlight, “(Y/N), I love you too much to let you walk ahead of me into the unknown, so all I ask is that you do not ever put your life under mine.”

“Let me not walk ahead of you or behind you, Alexios,” You rubbed your calloused thumb in small circles on the top of his hand, “let me walk beside you, hand in hand, and together we will brave whatever comes our way.”

His rich brown eyes were illuminated by the moonlight and that’s when you could finally see the love that he had hidden away. With your hands still placed upon his face, you both had slowly moved closer and the next contact between you two was a passionate kiss that had been in the making for years.

His calloused hands came to rest on your hips and pull you close to his chest while your hands were snaking around his neck and into his hair. The soft ocean breeze cooled your warming skin; the longer you stayed in his embrace, the more your heartbeat increased and made your body warm. The feeling of love made its way through both of your bodies and you slowly pulled away from each other, not really done with one another but needing air.

Alexios’ lips planted a firm kiss on your forehead before pulling your head against his chest, cherishing the moment where the both of you had finally came to realize how much you meant to one another.

“With our problems resolved, do you think you’ll still consider me helping you tomorrow?” You pressed him for an answer, a light chuckle at the end of your question to let him know that you were only playing with him in the moment.

“We’ll talk about it tomorrow, I promise, let us just enjoy this view for a moment longer.” His soft chuckles made you bury your face deeper into his chest as you both looked off into the horizon with smiles upon your faces as you had both came to an agreement on how you would go on.

[mizznancywheelerfic]

Rated M. Melodrama wip that is unfinished. AU where Arya was married into the Blackwoods. 

“Call Me By My Name”

chapter 1

The war's been done and over for months. After years of fighting, Stannis was on the Iron Throne, the Lannisters were slain, and Robb Stark decided he no longer wished to be a king. Though the Riverlands was a land in disarray, the lords in this part of the world began to come together at last. However, this return to order is what broke the Brotherhood Without Banners apart. The outlaws were either put to the noose or being employed the lords, old and new. People wanted to eat more than they wanted justice. Gendry included himself in that lot. The truth was that he had an empty stomach, and he wanted work badly. Unlike a good deal of the common folk left, Gendry had a trade. Blacksmiths would be needed in these keeps. So, he set off looking for work.

The first place he thought of was House Blackwood's seat in Raventree Hall.

Four years had past since the brotherhood returned Arya back to her family in Riverrun. Gendry though he'd never see her again. She scowled at him the last time he'd ever seen her. No doubt she'd scowl at him again. He thought she'd end up back in Winterfell, far from the south. But that was not the way of it. Through word of mouth, Gendry found out that she had been betrothed and married to Hoster Blackwood. A tall bookish boy. Not that he cared. He only wanted to know who Arya ended up marrying. He tried to picture that in his head about half a thousand times, but it was no use. All he could see was the skinny little girl with dirt all over her. There was a few times when he met some of House Blackwood's household, but they only had the same answer for when it came to Lady Arya's state. She was wild and willful and prettier than a winter rose. Gendry never saw a winter rose but he figured they must be nice to look upon.

A part of him thought it madness as he rode his old horse to Raventree Hall. Mayhaps Arya would tell her lord husband to reject him on the spot, to send him off for leaving her in order to be an outlaw. Or it could be that her lord husband would not wish to have his lady wife's old friend working for him. But here Gendry was. He could have gone to other houses first, but Gendry didn't want to truly admit why he came here first.

“Excuse me, miss,” Gendry said to an older woman bringing in buckets of well water.

She looked him over before smacking her lips and saying, “What can I do for you, boy?”

He straightened up atop the horse. “Who would I see for some work? I'm a smith, but I got no forge. Figured the lords here might need a smith.”

The old woman smiled through crooked teeth. “Aye, you look a proper smith to me. Come t'think of it, I think the last smith died o' a bad heart not only two weeks past. He was an old, done man. The war didn't do him no good neither. His only son died in Duskendale. But you don't want that whole story, do you? The man you're looking for is the steward, Jon Rivers.”

Gendry nodded his head. “And where do I find him?”

“He's up in the keep, I expect. Don't you worry, I'll fetch him. Just get off that horse, if you don't want to offend.”

Feeling more and more nervous, Gendry got off his horse. Suddenly he wished he had better clothes on.  He wasn't like to impress the steward in all his worn roughspun. But there wasn't much he could do about that now.

Within minutes, the old woman he spoke to came back with a middle-aged, balding man. He shook Gendry's hand when he finally stood before him.

“Julia said you were looking for some work, is that true?” the steward said in a nasally voice.

Gendry felt his mouth go dry, but he managed to speak despite that. “Aye, I'm here for a job as a smith.”

The steward looked at Gendry's right arm. That was always how people knew he was a smith. “And who did you work for in the past?”

“I apprenticed with Tobho Mott in King's Landing when I was a boy. Since then, I was a smith for the brotherhood for a few years. Until recently.”

The steward narrowed his eyes at the brotherhood being mentioned. Gendry feared that would happen, but he couldn't lie to the man. He vowed to live honestly after the brotherhood fell apart.

“You were an outlaw?”

“Was. No more.”

“What makes you think that House Blackwood would take a man who used to consort with Lord Beric?”

Gendry licked his lips. “I don't rightly know what Lord Blackwood would want with the likes of me. I'm here because I'm done being an outlaw. I want to eat. I want a place to sleep. I want to work. I can smith as good as any man. Better, even. I'll swear fealty to his lordship, if he'll have me. I have no wish to return to the outlaws. My hammer will be House Blackwood's from here on.”

“Oh, Jon, don't be a stick in the mud! The boy needs work and there ain't no smith around here. You're not like to find any man these days that hasn't been involved with the Lightening Lord. That's the way of it in the Riverlands!” said the old woman named Julia. Gendry would have to thank Julia later.

The steward looked deeply annoyed. “Julia, I am the steward here. Not you. And there's good reason for that! Thus, I make the decisions concerning the household,” he turned back to Gendry, “I am sorry, lad. You seem like a good worker, but I'm afraid we won't be able to take outlaws, reformed or not.”

Gendry was ready to turn back to his horse, but then he stopped. “Wait! I, I know the lady of this house. May I speak to her?”

The steward squinted. “How do you know Lady Arya?”

“We met as children in King's Landing. She was ransomed once by the brotherhood a few years back.”

For a moment, Gendry thought the steward would scoff, but instead he said, “I've heard that tale. Are you certain she'd remember you?”

Gendry nodded.

“Then I will go inform her. She will make the final decision as Lord Hoster is gone.”

When the steward and Julia left back to the keep, Gendry felt his heart start immediately thumping loudly. Three years was a long time, he knew. There was a chance she wouldn't even remember him. He was only a bastard smith she knew as a child. By now, she was a maid. Were married ladies still considered maids? Gendry didn't want to think on that.

When the steward came out of the keep, he was with another person, but this person was definitely not Julia.

Arya

She was still skinny, but she wasn't so short as he remembered. And when she finally stood before him, Gendry could see that Arya was still as fierce ever. He finally he understood what those others meant by 'prettier than a winter rose.'

Gendry found himself staring down at a pair of big gray eyes that refused to show him any kindness. “What are you doing here?” she said sharply. Her voice was deep, not a child's voice anymore.

He took a swallow. “I'm looking for a work.”

Her eyes narrowed. “Don't you have work? What about those bloody brothers of yours?”

“They're no more. I've left them. Now I'm looking for someone to take me as a smith.”

“We don't need any smiths.”

“I heard you did.”

“You heard wrong.”

Gendry shook his head. “No, I heard right. Why do you have to so childish?” That was the wrong thing to say. Gendry knew it but he said it anyway.

Her hands suddenly flew to her hips. Hips she didn’t have before, Gendry noticed. Though he wanted to be appropriate, his eyes lingered on the other woman’s changes.  I'm a sot, and the worst kind. Arya is a lady and married.

“I'm not childish. I'm a woman grown and married. You're just some stupid smith. If you want a job here, then fine! You'll be worked to the bone.”

Gendry closed his eyes in relief. “Thank you, Arya---”

“Lady Blackwood,” Arya snapped, her arms moving up to cross over her chest.

“Sorry, m'lady,” Gendry said flatly.

Arya said nothing to him in return. Instead, she turned to the steward. “Show him the smithy. I'll be inside the castle.”

With that, she left. Gendry made note her of new sway in the woolen black breeches and the white fox fur she wore over her shoulder. The image was burned into his mind for the rest of the day. No matter what the steward showed him, he saw only one image in his mind.

The new smithy was the nicest he's been in since Tobho Mott's. He got a well-equipped tool bench, a hot oven, a fresh cot, and some sturdy work chairs. The supplies are all in order. But best of all, he got a small bedroom tucked in the side. The big wasn’t new, but was large enough to fit the figure of a big blacksmith like him.

Gendry was just glad to have a place to stay and work where meals are available regularly. They may be modest, but they're more than he was getting with the brotherhood.

Yet, despite his hard work over the course of a few weeks, the thought of Arya was still firmly burned in his mind. He saw nearly every day as she walked around the keep, inspecting everything from the stables to the training yard to the washer women doing their loads. Though she usually passed by the smithy without so much as a glance. Gendry desperately wanted her to come in, no matter how unpleasant she might be. He wanted to just be near her, a thought that made him uncomfortable. A thought he'd rather not delve too much into. Of course, he always wanted to be near her when they were in same space. That's how it had been when they were children...and it hadn't changed. But it was different now, Gendry knew. Arya was married and eight-and-ten to his twenty-three. They weren't children any longer. Though Gendry didn't know what that meant for him or Arya.

The only part of his new occupation that he truly loathed was meeting Lord Hoster Blackwood. He was a gangly, tall man of Gendry's own age. There weren't many men taller than Gendry, but Lord Hoster was nearly seven feet. But Gendry was sure that Hoster could never match him in strength or brawn. That much soothed his fury when he met Arya's husband. He was an awkward but polite man. When he came to the smithy, he was without Arya. Only the steward accompanied him. Gendry swore him his allegiance and assured him that he was no longer affiliated with the brotherhood. He was an honest man looking for honest work. When the lord of Raventree Hall was satisfied, he left the smithy. At once, Gendry found a piece of steel and pummeled it into he was exhausted. He had to swallow whatever feelings he had inside of him. Nothing was fair. That he learned long ago.

Then one day Gendry heard an insistent knocking on the smithy's door as he was fixing a broken helmet. Annoyed, he went to see who was at the door.

There was Arya. All haughty, tapping her foot on the floor. “Are you going to let me in or not, stupid?”

Gendry said nothing. He merely opened the door. Arya strutted in, taking in the surroundings.

“Is there anything you'd like, Lady Blackwood?” Gendry asked as he closed the smithy door. When he turned around, she was sitting atop a seat near his tool bench. Gendry liked the scene before him. She looked pretty enough to kiss, but he pushed that thought out of his mind as she spoke.

“Don't call me that,” she said, her eyes rolling.

Gendry scoffed. “Ain't that what you told me to call you?”

Arya shrugged. “Changed my mind. Call me by my name.”

He sighed. “Fine. What do you want, Arya?”

“That's better,” she said as she opened up her gray cape to pull out an item sheathed in a black fabric.

Gendry moved toward her to get a closer look, but the item became all too clear when Arya pulled it out of the fabric. A sword. Naturally, Arya had a sword.

“My brother gave me this when he betrothed me to Hoster,”she said as she placed the small sword in his hand. He saw that the pommel in the shape of a wolf's head was broken from the blade.

“You want me to fix it?” he asked, looking down at the small woman before him.

Her head tilted. “Obviously. Why else would I be here?”

Gendry bit the inside of his cheek. Why else would she be here? Don't be an idiot. “Of course. Alright, well, it'll be done in no time. I'll make sure to get to it when I got some time later. I still got some swords and a few helmets from your lord husband to work on.”

He expected her to get up and leave, but Arya stayed put on the seat.

“What do you think of him?” Arya asked.

Gendry wasn't sure what to say. Truthfully, he couldn't stand Lord Hoster. He wanted to knock his teeth out, but he couldn't say that to his wife. Even if his wife was Arya.

“Think of who?” he asked, feigning ignorance. Maybe that would end the discussion.

Arya groaned, eyes rolled. “My husband. What do you think of Hoster? I know he met you.”

Gendry placed her blade upon the tool bench. He looked at her directly. “I don't think much of him.” That was the truth. What else could he tell her?

Arya shifted in her seat. “And why not?”

He shrugged. “I don't know. He doesn't seem like a good match for you.”

“There's nothing wrong with him.”

“I didn't say there was. He just isn't a match for you.”

“He's not much of a fighter,” Arya admitted.

“Is that so bad?” Gendry asked as he leaned against the tool bench, standing right next to where Arya was sitting.

“No, I suppose not. But he always has his nose in books. It gets wearisome. I don't care what happened to some old man during some stupid feast a hundred years ago.”

Gendry laughed at that picture. “No, I can't think that would make a good story in bed.”

“How would I know?” she muttered. When Gendry looked at her face, he saw that flushed red.

Overcome by a boldness that he didn't know he had Gendry asked, “Are you still a maid?”

Don't ask that, you fool.

Arya's gray eyes were wide when they met his eyes. “Not that it's any of your business, but I am. I married Hoster when I was only twelve. I refused to be bedded and he accepted that even all these years later. Those were the conditions I set before my brother and mother.”

Gendry didn't know why, but her words sent his heart into a fit of joy. The thought of Arya abed with that gangling fool had tormented him for nights. Now he knew she slept tucked away in some maiden's bed.

“Then your husband is a man of honor,” Gendry said finally.

“Not for long. I'm eight-and-ten. He's getting weary of waiting. I can tell, ”Arya said solemnly.

Gendry didn't want to know how she knew. The thought of that fool pushing Arya into bed stifled all the joy that was previously inside his heart. Now he was seething with jealousy. Rather than show his black mood, Gendry turned to the work awaiting him.

“I'll have your sword done soon, Arya. Come back in a few days.”

At those words, Arya jumped off the chair she sat on. Gendry heard her footsteps walk toward the door, but then they stopped. “Is there any way that I can pay you?”

Gendry turned to face her. “I'm here to service House Blackwood. I'm already given reward for my work.”

She nodded her head and licked her lips. Pretty, full, and pink lips. “I haven't forgot.”

“Forgot what?” Gendry asked.

“That you're my pack,” she said.

He wanted to ask what she meant by that but then before he knew it, she had her arms flung around his neck. Gendry instinctively wrapped his arms around her slender waist. The kiss she placed on his lips was chaste but Gendry felt it burn throughout his whole body. He placed her pack upon her feet when the kiss was done. Her soft hands ran across his chest for a bit. The both of them were too speechless for a couple minutes.

Eventually, Arya did pull away. She said nothing, only giving Gendry one last look before sprinting out of the smithy.

Arya didn't come back in a few days. Three weeks had passed without so much as a word. A fury built up inside of Gendry. He was angry at her. He was angry that she'd come to him, that she'd tell him he was her pack, that she'd kiss, and never come back. All of it made him want to forget her and hate her. Girls around the keep were constantly tripping over themselves when he came near them, but he never wanted any of them, though many were pretty enough. The worst of it was when he'd see Arya and Lord Hoster around together. Though he hated himself every time, Gendry couldn't help but wonder if the lord finally claimed his rights. It was a stupid thought, but he couldn't stop himself. He didn't want Arya in any man's bed---even if that man was her husband. The anger burning inside him would only cause him to work more. Though he was tempted to ruin the lord's fine armor when he was especially angry.

The only consolation came when Lord Hoster was called to leave after some of his men got into disputes with the Brackens. Word around the keep was that he'd be gone for some time. When the Brackens and Blackwoods got into conflicts, the solution was never short or simple.

Gendry was only content with the thought that Arya might come to see him now that her lord husband was gone. He was right.

Arya came to him, quiet as a shadow, the evening right after the day Lord Hoster left Raventree Hall. He almost didn't hear her knock on the door, but he practically ran like a fool he was when he heard. She was bundled up in the same cloak and furs that she wore when she first came to the smithy. Her short brown hair was messy from the wind, her pale face was pink in the cheeks, and Gendry wanted to bite on her chapped lips.

“Are you going to let me in?” she whispered.

Gendry moved to let her in and closed the door. He watched Arya take off her cape and fur. She cast them on his cot. Underneath those garments, she wore a plain, thin shift. When she sat down on the cot and began unlacing her boots, Gendry finally snapped back to reality.

“Arya, what are you doing?” he asked.

She rolled her eyes at him. “What does it look like I'm doing? I'm undressing.”

“Why?” He could hear how hoarse his voiced sounded.

Once her boots and socks were kicked to the side, she stood up and walked to him. Her gray eyes suddenly looked warm as she looked up at him. “I'm ready to be bedded.”

All the air in Gendry's lungs seemed to vanish. “You're married.”

Her hands then moved up and down his arms. “I know, but I don't want to lose my maidenhead to him. He's kind, but I don't want him that way.”

Gendry's body was reacting to her closeness and words. He was stiff by the time she leaned into him. “You want me that way?”

“Yes.”

That was all Gendry needed to hear. Gendry scooped her up and wrapped her legs around his waist, light as she was. Her mouth was warm and soft as she pressed feverish kisses all over his face and mouth and neck. The kisses were clumsy, but Gendry wasn't very experienced either. He'd only bedded two other girls, though he'd done some fair amount of kissing and poking around with some girls in his cups.

His hands roamed up and down her skinny legs when she was flat on her back atop his bed. Arya was breathing heavy and making little squeaks that were driving him mad, he was sure. Her eager hands pulled off his tunic and cast it to the other side of the room. In turn, Gendry slid his hands under her shift's skirt and pulled down her smallclothes. She moaned when he ran his thumb across her wet slit. Naturally, he'd heard of what do in this sort of situation from all the men in the brotherhood. You did this and that. You didn't do this and you didn't do this other thing. But for some reason, he couldn't quite recall these rules once Arya was in his bed, ready for him to fuck her. Deciding that he wanted her sooner than later, Gendry pulled off the shift off her. He could only see so much of her with the sliver of moonlight coming from the window facing some forest, but what he saw was surely better than all his dreams and fantasies. Arya was skinny but she had soft skin, pretty small breasts, a flat belly, and a perfect cunt by the looks of it. When Arya got tired of him staring, she grabbed him by the shoulders and pulled him atop of her.

Their heads were soon pressed together. “Are you going to fuck me, or what?” Arya asked slyly. Gendry smiled and started unlacing his breeches.

Arya only bit her lip and dug her nails into his back when he took her maidenhead. Embarrassingly, he was spent after a few minutes inside her, but he remembered enough from Tom's tales to know that he could make Arya peak by pressing and rubbing his thumb over that little swollen flesh between her legs. Getting Arya to peak was a little more work than it was for him, but she was soon bucking against his hand and panting like the she-wolf she was.

Cold overtook even the heat of the forge as the night carried on. Gendry fucked Arya twice more before  they finally settled into a sleep.

Chapter 2. 

Arya woke up to the sound of snores. Her head rested atop of his arm muscles, warm and smooth despite the cold. Gendry smelled so good that Arya thought she'd like to bury her face into his chest and stay there for hours more, but she knew that wasn't an option. The sun would not be out for hours, but she couldn't stay. She had to leave before the sun came up, before anyone could possibly see her sneak out of the smithy so very early in the day.

Dreading the thought of going back to the castle, Arya smoothed some of Gendry's dark, shaggy hair out of his eyes as she sat up on the bed. She winced only slightly as she felt how sore she was between her legs. But that didn't matter much to her. Arya slid out of Gendry's embrace and off of the bed. She slipped on her clothes that she fetched off of the floor. Her cape was fastened in no time, though she couldn't remember where she placed her fur.

This was a mistake, she thought.

Except she hadn't really thought things before. It was stupid to bed the smith when she was a lady wed, and a maiden at that. Except Gendry was so handsome, and he had been pulling her in ever since he came back to her like the idiot he was. She should have never let him work here. She should never have told him what she did. She shouldn't have fantasized about him in her bed chamber, lonely and dark as they were.

With one last look at his big snoring form, Arya left the smithy.

Hoster came back to Raventree Hall a few days later. A small scuffle had turned into battles according to him. Now only more fighting could answer the never ending woes between the Blackwoods and the Brackens. While Arya didn't wish that Hoster get hurt, but she was glad to have the castle to herself. That would be a relief for her in some respects. She certainly got the hint during the past few months that he was ready to consummate their marriage. Arya wasn't stupid. She knew what was asked of her. She was supposed to lose her maidenhead to her lord husband, strengthen the political alliance between her brother and the Blackwoods, and provide heirs for House Blackwood. The only problem now was that Arya had lost her maidenhead to their blacksmith. Yet, there was a chance that Hoster was as inexperienced as she was before her evening with Gendry. Hoster didn't seem like the sort to bed down serving girls or whores or innocent maiden ladies. He always had his nose in a book. Frankly, Arya never asked about his bedding experiences because she didn't care. Hoster also wasn't much of a fighter so it was hard for her to share any interests with him. He was never meant to be the lord of Raventree Hall, but the war came and claimed his father and older brother. On that account, she could relate to him, but they had little else in common.

In any case, she made the decision she avoided once his small band came back home. Arya was going to lose her maidenhead once again that very night.

The dinner served was a small feast but it was delicious all the same. Arya took a second plate of helpings as she sat next to her lord husband.

“I'm afraid I'll only be here for a few days more. We only need more of the household knights to come with us for the fights,” Hoster before he took a sip of wine from his goblet.

Arya swallowed down some of her trout. “That's unfortunate. I wish I could go fighting. Battles are so exciting.”

Hoster didn't seem to share her sentiment. “I'd rather not be fighting at all, but that's the way of it. The Brackens are going beyond their bounds. I can't let them shame my family's name. My father and brother would never allow it if they were alive.”

Arya shook her head, trying to think of what to say. It had to be something gracious and understanding and kind. The way a proper lady and wife would console her lord husband. “I understand. My brother, Robb, would feel the same.”

At those words, Hoster placed a large, thin, and hesitant hand over her own. He smiled kindly. “I know he would.”

And then Arya knew there was no time to be wasted.

Usually, the pair separated after dinner. They stayed in two different bedrooms across the hall from each other. That's the way it had been since Arya was left to stay in Raventree Hall when she was twelve-years-old. However, she knew that this night had to be different. Before Hoster could open his door, Arya moved to turn the handle. At first he seemed confused, but Arya gave him a shy smile. He seemed to have understood because he motioned for her to enter the room first.

“Are you certain, my lady?” Hoster asked, looking a bit nervous. He was very tall, Arya noted not for the first time. But it was different now. She thought he might be too tall. And he might be too thin and gawky as well. Hoster was always all knees and elbows with a face was a bit plainer than she liked, but he was her husband. The sooner she accepted that fact, the better. Perhaps she had just been living in denial until this moment.

Just like a child, she scorned herself. And she was no child anymore. She was a woman of eight-and-ten.

Arya scoffed at Hoster's question. “Of course I am.” She quickly began to undress herself after she hopped atop of Hoster's bed. He soon joined her, skinny and pale and long-legged as she imagined he would be. The kisses were a bit awkward at first, but they soon caught onto some rhythm. Not wanting Hoster to take the lead, Arya pushed Hoster down onto the bed. He seemed too lost to notice or protest. Gendry had pushed her firmly down when she tried to do this, but Hoster didn't seem to mind. It was better this way. Arya only prayed he wouldn't be able to tell that she wasn't a maid. She kissed him hard on the mouth as she slowly slid down on him, pretending to feel the same discomfort that she felt with Gendry only days past.

“Are you fine?” Hoster asked in a whisper as he clutched hard to Arya's hips.

Arya nodded her head, finally exhaling a breath caught in her chest as she slid herself down totally.

Hoster gasped. “I-I heard that maidens feel pain the first time. It'll take some getting used to.”

Arya only closed her eyes and nodded. If he doubted her virtue, he only spoke to the contrary.

 Two moons past with no stop to the fighting. It had been that long since Arya had seen Hoster, but it had been even longer since she saw Gendry in private. But she really did want to see him again despite her distance. She wanted to watch him hammer away, to speak to him, to kiss him again, to see him naked again, to have him inside her once more, and to know that he didn't hate her. Whenever they ever happened to cross each other in the yard, he refused to look at her. Instead, Gendry would focus on his work or anything but her, really. He seemed angry, and Arya knew he had every right to be. She'd be furious at any man that ever left her abed. If she were in Gendry's position, she'd feel the same as he did.

He must think I only used him.

That shame didn't stop her from wanting him. Nothing did. Bedding Hoster didn't change anything like she sort of sort of thought it would. Every bit of her still longed for Gendry. Indeed, Gendry was terribly handsome and fierce and black-bearded. And he was stubborn and stupid but sharp and bold. She wanted to be near him more than anything, but chances are, he wouldn't be too friendly. Arya knew Gendry well enough. He would continue this idiotic behavior for as long as he could even if it was just a pain in the arse for everyone involved.

Why does everything have to feel like such a lost cause? Why can't I get anything I want? I never asked to be a stupid lady in some dumb castle. I only want to go home.

But Raventree Hall was supposed to be her home once she married Hoster. The confusion was enough to make Arya cry herself to sleep in her own bedchambers a few nights.

Still, the problems she had were only worsened by a fact that Arya couldn't deny after three moons without getting her moonblood. She was with child. The suspicion that she was with child was further roused when she began vomiting daily, and then the problem was confirmed by Raventree Hall's maester.

The gods had no love for me, she thought bitterly as she left the maester's chambers. Elsewise, I'd never have a babe in my belly---or I'd at least be sure who the father was. Though she figured she'd know at the turn of sixth moons or so as the maester explained.

The babe would either be a Blackwood, or they would be a child of Gendry's seed. She tried to picture a son who looked like Hoster, but all she saw was a baby who looked so much like Gendry that no one would ever second guess that he fathered the child. While Arya could not be sure with any real proof, she knew in her heart who the father of her child was.

The night was bitter cold when Arya fastened on her cloak. Her steps from her bedchambers to the outside of the castle were light as feathers. No one had ever been able to catch her out of bed. She was still quicker than anyone knew, and that thought at least still comforted her.

The knock she made on the smithy door sounded as loud as a war drum to her ears. For a minute, she thought that he wouldn't answer.

Open it, you idiot.

So he did. Gendry opened the smithy door, looking groggy and annoyed in the moonlight.  

He must have been sleeping.

“Can I come in?” Arya asked, standing firm.

Gendry pushed some hair out of his eyes. “What for?”

“Because it's cold outside,” Arya said, biting her lip. She hoped that would be enough to let her in.

He rolled his eyes. “Don't want m'lady getting frostbite,” Gendry said dryly as he opened the door to allow her inside the smithy.

Arya shivered at the sudden warmth that was left over from the day's work. When she heard Gendry close the door, she felt another shiver.

“You want to tell me what you're doing here? It's only been months since we last seen each other” Gendry said as he lit a candle. He then walked over to the smithy's work cot and sat down on it.

She nodded. “I have something important to tell you.”

Gendry's face, she forgot just how handsome it was, looked suspicious. “What's so important?”

Arya walked over to where he sat. She took a spot next to him, and stared at the ground for a few moments before collecting her courage.

“I'm going to have a baby.”

She expected him to say something immediately. Instead, he stayed quiet. His face looked terribly pained. Arya figured he must be deep in thought.

“You and your lord? That's good. Now you'll have an heir. Proper wives do that,” Gendry finally said after his silence. His voice was flat and his focus was trained on a work stool near the side of the room.

“I don't know if it's his,” she said, wanting him to look back at her. Arya wanted that more than anything in that moment. Yet, her heart clenched when he did.

“What do you mean?” Gendry asked, eyes narrowed.

Arya felt her mouth start to go dry. “I don't know. I've only been with Hoster once. The baby could easily be yours.”

Gendry's face became unreadable. Arya couldn't tell if he didn't care, if he was angry, or if he was happy of all things.

“Only once?” he asked quietly.

Arya snorted. “Is that what you're thinking about? Yes, only once. Hoster's been gone for months. You know that.”

“When was it?”

She shrugged. “A little bit after we were together. I couldn't let him leave without having him take my maidenhead.”

“I took your maidenhead.”

Arya rolled her eyes. “I know that, but Hoster didn't.”

Gendry shook his head while leaning back against the stone wall.

“It wasn't good,” Arya said. She wanted his attention, she realized. Any topic would do.

He looked at her with a softer appearance in his eyes. “Did he treat you bad?”

Arya shook her head. “No, that's not it. I just didn't feel the way I felt when we were together.”

“When we fucked?” he asked so bluntly that Arya laughed.

“Yes, when we fucked. What the hell would I be talking about except that?”

He shrugged. “I don't know what lords and ladies do in their beds.”

“Essentially what we did. Except-” Arya paused before a laugh, “I wasn't sore at least.”

A stupid smile formed on his face. “I got you sore?”

Arya pushed him for being such a fool. “Yes, but I imagine that was because I'd never been bedded before. Your cock isn't that impressive.”

“Bollocks. You were panting and moaning for me like a wanton instead of the maiden you were,” Gendry said.

And that was enough. Arya pushed him back. “I'll show you a wanton,” she said as she stood up and walked toward Gendry's small bedroom.

Gendry soon followed with the candle in his hand. He placed it over a small, beaten drawer.

Though Arya sat down on his bed and began to take off her cloak, Gendry remained still. He only stared at her---which proved to annoy Arya more than anything.

“What are you doing standing there?” Arya asked after she pulled off her tunic.

“Arya, we can't do it again. You're with child,” he said firmly, snapping his eyes away from her naked chest.

“So?”

“So you have to think of the babe and your husband.”

“What if the baby is yours? You fucked me first,” she huffed, putting her arms around her chest.

Gendry didn't say anything. He moved like he was about to leave the room until Arya sprung up from the bed and grabbed him by the wrist. Gendry turned around to look at her, but he didn't try to pull away.

“Don't leave me. I command you,” Arya said, her voice sounding stupid and choked in her ears. She felt like an idiot.

To her surprise, she felt Gendry run his free hand pull her into him. “Why do you want me, Arya?” he asked into her ear.

Arya said the first things that came to her mind. “Because I'm scared...and because I want you.”

Gendry didn't respond with words. Rather, he carried her to his bed. The kisses he pressed along her neck and chest were enough to make Arya forget her woes for a bit---though she was hit with a dose of reality when Gendry placed soft kisses on her belly. For our baby, she thought. And for another night, Arya could pretend that this was her life. That she wasn't Lady Blackwood or Lady Stark or anyone special. She was the smith's girl, already with his child after a few fucks in the darkness. That pretend was as good as the fucking itself.

Chapter 3

Gendry's mood was still dark as ever. Though it shamed him, he harbored fantasies about Lord Hoster dying in battle. He'd meet a foe, tall and dark haired and armed with a hammer, and be smashed into the Trident. It would only take one blow. One blow would be all the dark haired knight would need to crush the scrawny Lord of Blackwood. That was a typical dream for Gendry---apart from the ones where he and Arya made love—-until and after Lord Hoster came back after the fighting stopped for the time being.

To Gendry's eyes, the lord looked far older than he had before leaving to battle. He was no warrior, everyone knew. Still, Gendry couldn't partake in the relief that most of Raventree Hall shared when the lord and most of his men returned safely. According to all that Gendry heard, the fighting stopped when Lord Edmure Tully sent his own men to negotiate the conflict that erupted between his bannermen. Apparently, given Arya's half-Tully blood, they would all be coming to Raventree Hall in order to settle the dispute with Lord Tully as the final word. Arya herself had told him of her family's upcoming visit to the castle.

“It's only to be my Uncled Edmure and my mother, but I'll have to see to them. We won't be able to see each other until they're gone,” Arya said.

Her grey eyes looked honestly guilty so Gendry said nothing.

Yet, what angered Gendry more than Lord Hoster's health and his present lack of Arya, was seeing Lord Hoster dote on his lady wife and unborn child.

My child, Gendry thought bitterly.

But, in truth, neither he nor Lord Hoster had any way of knowing the truth of that matter. Gendry never fought to contain his anger so much as when he overheard others around the keep talk about how lovely Lady Arya looked and how lucky Lord Hoster was to able to even get the pretty but vicious little she-wolf into bed.

“I never would've thought he'd bed her after all this time,” said Jeyne the old kitchen wench as some of the yard took their morning meal out in the yard.

Another one of the wenches agreed with a laugh. “I thought he'd have to seek one of them wolf tamers for that one!”

Gendry said nothing to these comments. Instead, he only chewed on his lumpy porridge---letting his mind wander to a night with Arya the past few weeks past when he took her over his work bench. They had barely even said a word to each other that night. She just wrapped her arms around him, and he was quick to place her on the bench he often thought about in his day dreams. Gendry untied the laces of her breeches as well as his own with a haste so they could make love as quickly as they could. That night, Arya’s passion was unbridled just like his was as well. He'd bet anything that Lord Hoster didn't get scratches in his back. Arya reserved her scratches for when he fucked her hard and fast.

Thought the worst fury came upon him whenever he saw Lady Arya, small rounding belly showing in her spare gowns, walking about with Lord Hoster, who was always so careful with his lady wife. Gendry ruined more than a few pieces of steel after having to witness Lord Hoster help Lady Arya over fresh rain puddles or chide her for trying to ride a horse while she was with child. Perhaps Gendry would've been less agitated if he actually saw Arya, if she could reassure him with her words or touch, but the return of Hoster and upcoming Tully and Blackwood visit assured that Arya was kept away from the forge and thus she was kept far away from him, no matte how close she may be.

But no matter how angry Gendry felt, he knew he had work to do. Work became his one focus if he was too frustrated with Arya. Gendry was a smith, and a good smith, so he made sure to do the best work he could. He couldn't let men go out to battle with terrible armor and swords. His pride be damned.

The only thing to take Gendry out of his concentration was the knock on his smithy's door. Gendry immediately quit what he was doing at the sound.

Arya

Casting aside his tools and the helmet he was working on, Gendry quickly walked to the door and opened it at once. He was ready to scoop up Arya into his arms and take her to his bed. There he'd properly make love to her. He'd show her that how much he fucking missed her.

But in an instant, his heart fell. Arya wasn't the door.

“Hello!” said a freckly young girl, about twenty years if Gendry had to guess, with long yellow hair tied into a braid. She was one of the castle’s washerwoman's daughter or great-granddaughter. Gendry didn't remember exactly who she belonged to, though.

He narrowed his eyes. “I'm doin' work. Is there anythin' you want?”

The girl flashed a crooked, white smile before saying, “Oh, I want lots o' things.”

This wasn't the first time a girl came around the smithy for no reason other than to ask stupid questions and try and invite themselves in while he had work to do.

Gendry nodded his head and spit on the dirt. “Alright, well I got work to finish. If you ain't here for a reason, then I'll have to say goodbye.”

As Gendry moved to close the door, the girl pushed the door back.

“I'm sorry. I'm so stupid! That's what my ma always say, anyway. I didn't introduce myself. I'm Tansy.”

Gendry raised his eyebrows, attempting to be polite. “Nice t'meet you, Tansy. I'm---”

The girl, Tansy, interrupted.“You're Gendry the smith. I know who you are. All the girls do. They say used to be an outlaw. That must've been very exciting.”

Gendry spit again. “Not truly. Well, it was nice to meet you, Tansy, but I got work to do. The outlaw days are behind me.”

“Wait!” the girl said before he closed the door. “I got to pick something up here. Ser Will has a sword in the fix here.”

Gendry's eyebrows raised once again. “Ser William sent you to come pick up his sword?”

The girl flushed. “Not to be crude, Gendry, but I handle Ser Will's other sword, if y'know what I mean, so he trust me with a lot o' things. To tell the truth, I asked him if I could fetch his sword, his actual sword, for him. He said as long as I made it quick.”

“Is that right?” Gendry asked.

Tansy nodded her head vigorously.

Gendry sighed. He didn't spare a second glance at her as he walked back into the forge. As he thought, he heard steps follow right behind him.

“You're on time, at least. The sword's been done for a few days. I was goin' to tell one of the squires to call Ser William so he could come and pick it up.”

When Gendry turned back, he saw the girl making herself welcome on his cot. The bag she carried was settled on the floor.

“You know, all I've lived in Raventree Hall my whole life, but I ain't never been inside the forge.”

“No?” Gendry asked, feeling apprehensive about this girl being here any longer than necessary.

She shook her head, the blush creeping down her neck. “The smith before you was an old man,” Tansy said with her nose wrinkling, “so there was never no reason to come inside here.”

“Now there is?”

“I think so.”

Instead of blushing like Gendry thought she would, the girl started lifting the skirt of her dress. Immediately, Gendry felt his face go red and hot. He quickly walked out of the room and into his small corner bedroom, closing the door behind him.

Once he felt himself relax he called out to Tansy. “I think it would be best if you left, Tansy. We can't be doin' that here.”

There was no answer. Gendry waited with a tense breathing until he heard the sound of a bag rustling and footsteps. His relief only came when he heard the door slam. Though that sound was only the last send off after he heard Tansy shout, “Fuck you!”

When Gendry walked out of his room, he was glad to see that she had taken the sword. Ser William still needed his sword, after all. Feeling like he wasn't up to more work, Gendry went to lay upon his cot. He pushed hair out of his eyes and stared up at the sooty ceiling. Of course he didn't want the girl, but he didn't want to deal with her mother or Ser William neither. But he didn't do nothing wrong. Gendry had that much comforting him, and it was the truth.

Wanting more comfort, Gendry leaned over and reached under his cot. His hand felt around for the fur he placed there. Arya's fur that she had left behind for what seemed like lifetimes ago. But the usual soft touch that met his hand wasn't to be found as his hand reached under. With a startled realization, Gendry hopped off the cot, moved to the floor on his knees, and  looked underneath the cot, hoping he just pushed it farther he intended then he meant to. However, all Gendry saw was empty space. The fur was gone.

Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.

Wasting no time, Gendry got back up on his feet. He ran after Tansy with all the speed he had.

[not-poignant]

(this might be a bit personal, and by all means please don't feel pressured to answer) but considering how dark some of your stuff can get, have you ever been troubled by some of the characters/their actions in your stories (and semi-related) had to take some time to cope with writing a difficult scene?

This is a tough one so I’m going to put a lot of it under a read more (sorry phone browsers).

I’ve had the occasional moment of struggling with content because of being troubled by it.

But by contrast it’s funny because, I think some of the most difficult scenes for others, are actually some of the easiest for me to write. For example, the chapter where Connor is basically kidnapped by Gabriel and given the highball, was so easy to write it was like swimming (which is the only sports-like skill I’m good at). If everything could be like that, oh my goodness, I can’t even imagine. It was an intense, emotionally fraught, joyful experience of the likes I don’t know how to explain to other people who don’t experience that.

So there’s not always any rhyme or reason to it either. I struggled with significant chunks of Strange Sights. I couldn’t finish The Drawn Bead because it just felt like we were heading towards torture porn but I also knew I couldn’t do justice to the horror of Gwyn’s memory AND it has a tragic ending and I struggle to write those for longer pieces. I tend to struggle with characters being separated from each other. So the beginning of Into Shadows We Fall, when Jack and Pitch are completely separated from each other, that was so difficult for me personally, that I actually ended up massively shortening how long they were meant to be separated for. Even though Pitch and Jack have a really thorny relationship when Pitch is returned, I still preferred that to their being absent from each other.

But I didn’t have as much of a problem with it, when it was Gwyn and Augus.

It’s not predictable, sometimes I enjoy writing the troubling content on a very visceral level. Either because I feel like I’m in my element as a writer. Or I know it’s going to be so satisfying (for me) for the character to recover from it later. Or I know that it’s going to lead to something I’ve been craving writing. I mean I wouldn’t write so much of that kind of content if I didn’t get something really tangible out of it.

There are still things that surprise me, still scenes that become more difficult as I write them, not because of ‘technical writing reasons’ but because of the thematic content. Often, for me, it highlights things I probably won’t enjoy writing again. Strange Sights for me worked as a series of oneshots, but as a long-term abusive and rape-filled relationship, it didn’t actually become comfortable for me until Augus began to be allowed to have boundaries. So I probably won’t write a couple that toxic ever again outside of novellas and PWPs. With the beginning of Into Shadows We Fall, I learned I had to be really careful with character separation, and that three chapters was about my limit (from memory, I think I stuck to this - or just about - in COFT).

But...maybe it would make people feel better if I said I really struggled with writing Gavril taunting Jack. Or Jack being whipped by Bunnymund. Or Augus torturing him in chapter 4 of ISWF. Or Gwyn being tormented by his mother. Or Mosk having flashbacks of Davix and Olphix. I find them intense, sure, but I don’t dislike doing it. Even though I often really feel for the character who is experiencing the torment. Gwyn goes through a fairly graphic description an MRI the next chapter in SOTS, and though I myself actually had an MRI phobia for a few years (it was the reason I developed claustrophobia), I found the scene itself disturbing, but deeply satisfying enough that I wouldn’t call it something where I needed to take time out to cope.

As for me being troubled by how the characters are actually behaving... This is tricky. I mean of course a lot of them are doing stupid, terrible, harmful, cruel, illegal things. I don’t condone it in reality. But thinking of these things happening in fiction is different to thinking about them happening in reality. The fact is, ‘dubcon’ in reality is just rape, and if I applied real world standards to non-real scenarios filled with tropes and the Id, yeah sure, I would be troubled, but I’d also not be writing any of this content.

As an addendum to that, for me their behaviour always makes sense to me from their perspective. Whether it’s Mosk being emotionally abusive with no concept of it. Gwyn raping Augus. Augus killing Efnisien. Pitch in TGATNW being heartless and constantly pushing Jack away with very cruel behaviour. Even Davix and Olphix. Whatever their behaviour is, if I can understand their motives behind it, I tend to struggle with it a lot less.

I don’t like to squick myself with my own writing, as a general rule. So no, I’m not looking to write things where I need to take breaks from my own writing to cope. But I think to be blunt, my life is filled with things more challenging than what I put a lot of my characters through, and my emotional ability to handle disturbing behaviour is broader than I think it would be for some other people. It doesn’t mean I lack empathy or compassion, if anything I hope that through my writing, people can see that I have great compassion for the characters that often suffer the most, through my need to build up a chosen/found family around them, and pour love onto them, even if they don’t know what to do with it.

Those that are here in the pit of ‘enjoying Pia’s writing’ are probably here because the comfort when it comes is - I hope - tangible and visceral, the loneliness when it’s comforted away reaches past the screen and means something. And holding onto that thread myself is why I enjoy the hurt part of the hurt/comfort as much as the comfort part, but also why I don’t like to write one without the other.

And finally, most of my POV characters, by the time we get to them, have been through their darkest moments in their pasts. The only way we often access their worst moments is through flashbacks, memories, dialogue or their aversions. That might feel very extreme to some, but for me, it means by the time we get to them, they’re already starting to recover something for themselves. The worst has happened.

Even if they go through something during the story, say - Connor in Eversion with Gabriel - I just think ‘it’s okay, they’re already in the story, their support is there, they’re going to be okay.’ It’s...extremely rare for me to write stories where the character goes through their worst trauma within the story. Science of Fear is an exception to that, but as most people know if they’ve read it - Nathan blacks out early on, and then once more, we only find out the details of his worst trauma in the form of nightmares, flashbacks and dialogue.

That’s partly because I feel personally that I write trauma recovery stories, and not trauma stories (it doesn’t sound like a huge difference, but to me it’s a huge difference). And then secondly because there is a buffer through the trauma itself being in the form of a memory. That...makes it a lot easier for me to cope with. I’ve spent my entire life learning how to cope with flashbacks, after all. But also, even if the character is clearly destroyed by a flashback, the fact is, they survived it. The flashback is living proof they survived it.

But anyway, I’d say me taking breaks from my own writing because of disturbing content specifically doesn’t really happen anymore and I can’t remember the last time it did. I take breaks because I’m struggling with a chapter - i.e. how to write it mechanically, or because I feel like it doesn’t have the emotional strength I want it to have yet. I am actually very comfortable with many of the themes I write, I’d have a far squickier, grosser, harder time writing pregnancy, or a story filled with only fluff, which is y’know, why...I don’t really write those things, lol. I’m too much of a hedonist to want to write content that scared me away from my own content? Like, you do you, folks, but I’m going to be over here actually enjoying what I write, disturbing matter and all.

That doesn’t mean other people can’t have a hard time with it. It’s totally okay for people to take breaks from whatever they read, for whatever reason. And since a lot of the characters I write do engage in troubling behaviour, it wouldn’t be great if people said ‘that behaviour is okay to do in real life’ because it isn’t. But if someone said ‘god I love that villain because he’s awful’ then yeah, I’m right there with pom poms, because that’s my jam too. And if someone else said ‘I can’t stand that villain because he’s awful’ then yeah, that’s awesome as well.

And if people need to take breaks while reading what I’m writing because they’re engaging in self-care, then good! I’ve needed to do the same with other people’s writing. Because the journey of the reader is different to the journey of the writer (this is for me, truest when writing porn, lmao, I’m not turning myself on when I write those scenes, but I sure as hell hope I’m turning on at least some readers --> so if I’m not walking away from the disturbing content in my own writing, that doesn’t mean I’m not hoping people won’t be disturbed when reading it).

[anamuseinglife]

Iditapod: Making It To the Yukon River

 Aliy Zirkle: Basically everyone said, "Don't go." And I was like, Ehhh... I gotta go. I've gotta go see what... there is supposedly a trail, then I've gotta go see if I can do it. And see if I can make a move. No one else wanted to try that.

 [theme music plays] 

 Casey Grove: Welcome to the Iditapod: A podcast about the Iditarod, because nobody else decided to try that, and where we ask ourselves, "What would Aliy Zirkle do?" This is a production of Alaska Public Radio and KNOM Radio in Nome. I am your host Casey Grove. Before we go see if we can do it, here's a word from our sponsor. 

 [ad plays] 

 CG: Hey Gang! Happy Friday and welcome to the Yukon River. That's where the front of the pack Iditarod mushers are arriving on Friday. That'll include Aliy Zirkle. Just heard from her. Barring any unforeseen circumstances, she will also be making it to the Yukon today, but it's Girdwood musher and last year's Iditarod runner-up, Nicolas Petit who, again, leads the 2019 Iditarod. Petit's team all, all 14 dogs, was the first to make it to the Yukon River, pulling into Anvik at 4:23 AM, Friday. A quick note on the weather from our trail reporter, Ben Matheson from KMON.

As the race enters its 5th day here, a warm winter storm's expected to drop a few inches of snow and we might see temperatures climb into the mid-30s. That, as we know, can be a little warm for dogs running out there. They tend to slow down when they're warm. And the trail itself, if it gets a bunch of snow on it, will also slow those teams down. The teams approaching the Yukon River include defending champ, Joar Leifseth Ulsem. There has really been a cat-and-mouse game developing between him and Nic Petit, who of course were very close last year. And they've been taking turns in the lead. Ulsom's team had lead through the night going into Friday after passing Petit's between the checkpoints of Iditarod and Shageluk. Petit and Ulsom have been racing near each other ever since hte checkpoint of Ophir, and they've swapped the lead position a few times on Thursday as their rest and run schedules intersected. There will be more shuffling of the leaderboard this weekend. Mushers must take an 8 hour rest at a checkpoint of their choice on the Yukon or in Shageluk, which is pretty close to the Yukon. So Ulsom was first into Shageluk very, very early on Friday morning with 11 dogs. He did stay for that 8 hours, so he has checked that off. As Ben reports, wet snow was falling. Ben talked to Ulsom after he pulled his team over for a nap and a nice big meal. There could have been a gourmet dinner for Ulsom and prize money 25 miles down the trail in Anvik. It looks like Petit has claimed that, but after a hard run through the hilly terrain, Ulsom decided not to pursue that prize. 

Joar Leifseth Ulsom: If I were to do it, it'd only be to get the money. It wouldn't be the best thing to do for the dogs. 

 CG: Petit arrived in Shageluk 36 minutes behind Ulsom, wearing a raincoat, and he was out again within 3 minutes, headed to Anvik. 

Nicolas Petit: [Muffled question about the time with dogs barking in the background] 

CG: That was Petit urging his dogs on and, for being the first to arrive in Anvik, he wins the First to the Yukon Award, which comes with a 5 course meal prepared by Anchorage's Lakefront Lodge and very experienced chef who is cooking much better food than what these guys have been eating, likely some freeze-dried meals and whatever is being served in checkpoints. This year, the meal that Nic has won includes bison chili, seared scallops, and a pan-fried cinnamon banana, served with vanilla ice cream and warm brandy sauce. Wow. There's also $3,500 in $1 bills and a bottle of champagne. A little dom perignon, I'm told. Obviously, there's a lot of strategizing going on in this race and it's not all about the food. You heard Aliy talking about her drive to push from Ophir to Iditarod. That's where she took her 24. KNOM's Ben Mathison has more from Aliy and more on the strategy as race leaders continue to leap frog each other preparing to make their next move. 

 BM: After a marathon day on the trail, Aliy Zirkle's team pulled into the ghost town checkpoint of Iditarod, just before 2 AM Thursday. For being the first into Iditarod, Zirkle wins the Dorothy Page Halfway Award and the prize of $3,000 in gold nuggets. But she had to be the first to survive a trail that transitioned from soft snow to bumpy, frozen ground. 

 Aliy Zirkle: Yeah, those tussocks are hardcore. They're... you shouldn't really mush a sled over them. 

 BM: Zirkle's jarring trip was on a day so warm that she fed her dogs water from snow that melted from the rooftop of a shelter cabin. She explained her decision to be the first musher who traveled so far before her break. 

 AZ: I gotta go. I've gotta go see what... there is supposedly a trail from Ophir to Iditarod, so if there's supposedly a trail, then I've gotta go see if I can do it. And see if I can make a move. Um, seemed like no one else wanted to try that. 

 BM: The race picture is beginning to come into view, as teams surge out of their 24 hour breaks in Takotna and Ophir. Zirkle is racing at the front, but her competition began to pass her Thursday afternoon while she finished her mandatory race. Just after noon, Nic Petit's team flew into the checkpoint with dogs that wanted to run more. He told spectators his reason for heading further up the trail... 

 Nic Petit: Because it looked like [unintelligible] 

 BM: With a fresh bale of straw, he drove his well-rested team a few miles further. Good rest is the priority for teams looking to maintain speed through the mid section of the race. On Wednesday afternoon, at the Ophir checkpoint, a few hours into his 24 hour break, veteran Aaron Burmeister woke from a nap and cooked a meal. The soft trails and warm temperatures have required a big effort from his whole team. 

 AB: There's been a lot of work. I mean, we've all been working together; working together with the dogs, my legs are sore, my body is sore, I don't do much ski poling, but I've been pushing and pumping and running quite a bit. 

BM: As mushers head out of checkpoints with freshly rested teams, the race is now on to reach the flat highway of the Yukon River. For KNOM, I'm Ben Matheson in Iditarod. 

 CG: Mr. Ben Matheson and our other trail reporter, Alaska Public Media's Zachariah Hughes, are turning in great interviews from the trail. We're posting a bunch of those as extended cuts on the podcast bonus editions. Today I'm working on posting an extended version of the interview that you heard parts of today with Aliy, and there's one up right now with Nic Petit in Ophir from Wednesday. Nic was sounding real relaxed there while taking his 24 in Ophir. Talked about his dogs, their breeding line.. and the interview includes a little bit about the two dogs he's running in the lead, at least up to Ophir it was Shoobie and Geoffrey. Couple of half-brothers, he says. And that's a good lead-in to today's listener question. 

 Megan: Hey guys, it's Megan calling from Ohio. I've really been enjoying the daily podcasts and bonus tracks. Thanks for keeping us connected to this exciting event. My questions are around the order of the dogs within the team. Is it intentional or strategic which dogs are the lead dogs? What are some of the qualities that the mushers look for in the lead dogs? Do they switch up positions within the team? Stuff like that. Thanks so much.

CG: Thanks for that question, Megan, and thanks especially for the fawning praise. We appreciate that. And thanks for listening as well. The short answer is, yes. A dog's position on the team really does matter, but it's not as hard and fast of a rule that a dog always has to pull in the same position. And mushers will tell you that it's important to have multiple dogs that can lead. If you have enough leaders in your team like that. I have to say when you see these really professional looking Iditarod teams, they look pretty orderly. They make their way down the trail. They pass other teams without too much trouble because they've been trained so well and they're just the best dogs for this. I mean, this is the race for them. IF you go out with amateur mushers, the teams maybe aren't as well-trained and that's just the fact of life. If you have more time to work with the dogs to work with the dogs, they're just going to be better at doing this. And the leaders especially may look back. Dogs may look back. They could get jumbled up. They may not pass other teams as smoothly on the trail. So when you see videos of these Iditarod teams just remember that. There's a lot of work that goes into making things run as smoothly as they do. We're gonna have more on lead dogs in just a second from Iditarod champion Libby Riddles and 16 time finisher, Jim Lanier. They were on Alaska Public Media's live call-in show, Talk of Alaska, recorded a couple of days ago. I was lucky enough to be able to join them. Might post the whole thing to the podcast here, not sure if we have the space for that, but we'll find out. But real quick- let's just start with the positions in a dog team. Starting at the sled. You've got your wheel dogs. Those are gonna be your bigger, sorta stronger, bulkier dogs that really break the weight and get the sled moving right away when you need to move. Then you've got a couple, 2-3 rows of team dogs. And then you've got 2 swing dogs up near the front. They're right behind the leaders and you need to train them to be able to make a big arc when they make turns. You don't want them to just cut off and try to run ahead of the leaders at any point. They really do play an important role because the position right behind the leaders and as those leaders make a turn, you want that nice, clean arc sot hat if you're the musher on the sled, you can just whip around the turn instead of just going straight through. So, as promised, here's more from Libby Riddles and Jim Lanier with Talk of Alaska host, and my boss, Lori Townsend,  starting things off. 

 Lori Townsend: Libby, what goes into selecting the dog that is going to be the leader? How do you make that decision?

Libby Riddles: You don't select. They're born or made, but mostly the very best ones just have it in their blood. I mean they rise to the top, you know? It's just like you're the coach and you have to see each dog. What is their best place? And some dogs are full time leaders that could do every day of the Iditarod, and others like to have a break now and then. You know, every dog has a different capacity and some of us are lucky enough to have these just once-in-a-lifetime super dogs like the one that helped me win the Iditarod. 

 LT: Well, I want to know more about that in a while. We'll talk about that particular race, but Jim, what are your thoughts about that? What are you looking for in a lead dog, and have you had one that really stood out from the others? J

im Lanier: Oh, I've had several. As all of us who've done a lot of mushers, I've done the race a number of times. I guess the one thing you look for is a dog that's aggressive, that wants to lead, that doesn't mind being chased by a big pack of dogs, you know? And one that has assurance that he or she could do it. You don't want them looking back, asking "Hey are we done yet? Can I get a... off..?" you know? 

 LR: [Asking] "Can I get a snack?" J

L: So those are the things you look for. 

 CG: So there you have it, that's how you pick a good lead dog. I want to mention too, there's a really cool award in the Iditarod, if you haven't heard this already. It's called the Golden Harness Award. It's for outstanding lead dogs. The Iditarod has the winning musher pick one of their dogs, sometimes it's two. They take a picture of them with this nice wreath of flowers on the dog. I just want to go back and list some of the past golden harness winners. Back in 2010, you had Maple on Lance Mackey's team. 2011, it was two for Snickers and Velvet on John Baker's team. Then 2012, Guinness on Dallas Seavey's team. Tanner in 2013 on Mitch Seavey's team. Beatle, another Dallas Seavey dog in 2014. And then you've got back to back wins of the golden harness award for Reef on Dallas Seavey's team. Pilot for Mitch Seavey in 2017. I think I saw a report that Pilot is out of this year's race and had to be dropped. And then a dog by the name of Russeren on Joar Liefseth Ulsom's 2018 winning team. I guess that stands for "Russian Express". And we will have to see who wins Golden Harness in 2019 when the teams reach Nome sometime next week. 

Speaking of major accomplishments, I've been avoiding this beacuse I don't want to admit that there's another Iditarod podcast out there that has been actually in the business longer than us... it's called The Ikidapod, and it's put together by a class in Wisconsin. Elementary School students in Mrs. Treptow's class. They actually have been going for 4 seasons now. This is their fourth season. Here is a little taste... and I am not kidding you, this is the Ikidapod's opening music.

[electronic music plays] 

 Kid: Hello and welcome to Ikidapod. Season four. We're your hosts for today's pod. Frosty Frost. Today we will be telling you what the Iditarod is.... 

 CG: It's pretty great and a shoutout to Mrs. Treptow's kids and The Ikidapod and congratulations on making it to your fourth season of The Ikidapod. I mentioned Dallas Seavey's name a few minutes ago, with his lead dogs. Of course, the four time champion is not running the Iditarod for the second year in a row. he didn't run last year, amid a dog-doping scandal. Since then, the Iditarod says they've cleared him of any wrong-doing. We covered all of that back in season 2 last year. Especially season 2, episode 2. I would definitely encourage the listeners to go back and listen to the whole season, but if you want to know more about all that, that was covered in season 2, episode 2. Again, Dallas is over in Norway, racing in the Finnmarkslopet. There was a point in last year's Iditarod where Joar was leading the Iditarod, he won of course. And Dallas was running in first place in the biggest race over in Norway. It's actually the longest sled dog race in Europe. It's about 750 miles. And Seavey ended up taking 3rd last year. I guess that wasn't good enough for him. He went back over in Norway and he's going to try again to win that race. Maybe the best way to find out about Dallas's run in the Finnmarkslopet is to follow him on Facebook. He's out there on the social medias and on the internet. Well, everybody that's all we have time for today. Check us out at http://AlaskaPublic.org and http://KNOM.org for more stories and photos. We will continue the Iditapod here over the weekend as the race continues, we've also got daylight savings time changes coming up and some math to do. So, stay tuned for that and more extended interviews from Ben and Zach out in the field. Hopefully Zach's going to figure out his internet issues in Anvik. Can't wait for that. Our theme music is by the band Sassafras. I am your host Casey Grove. Til next time, happy trails! [theme music plays]

[5hfanfiction]

I have an über big crush on you

watt = longerr_hours check out my shit 

So Lauren has no idea how to use uber. She’s always had the app, for emergencies like the one she’s in now (if being stuck at your ex boyfriend’s party at three in the morning is considered an emergency), but she’s never been in one and she isn’t quite sure what the process is. 

Does she talk to the driver? Does she awkwardly sit there for the twenty minutes that it is then give them five stars to make up for the lack of convo? Does she sit in the back, or is that weird (no obviously you sit in the back, but like, still it feels weird). 

She orders one, and it takes a second but then the driver pops up and she thought she’d have to approve of them but like, whatever, and when she click son the picture she’s shocked to see someone so young looking driving. 

She has a 4.9 star rating and it says she’s been doing this for 9 months and almost two hundred drives so Lauren take sit she must be nice and eagerly waits to escape the party that feels it’s been going on for years. 

It’s a small silver car, and like fuck off Lauren doesn’t know cars enough to know the car so don’t h8. But it’s small, and she makes a beeline towards it, dodging the other drunks on the porch and then she’s safely inside, and dace to face with the most beautiful person she’s ever seen. 

“Why hello there, you seem in a rush,” pretty face giggles and Lauren doesn’t car show nerdy that is because it’s so cute coming from pretty face- Camila, her name said Camila. 

“Yeah a little bit,” Lauren laughs, buckling in as Camila pulls off the curb and into the quiet neighborhood. 

“Rough night? Or other? Or something you’re not going to talk to your uber driver about why am I being so pushy?” she jokes and Lauren can’t help but giggle at the girl.

She’s more gorgeous in person, the picture was pretty but it certainly didn’t do her justice, and Lauren wonders if she had a high rating simply because it was an honor to be looking at her. 

“Something like that,” Lauren mumbles, still checking her driver out before shaking her head and continuing so she doesn’t seem rude. “My ex had a party and somehow I ended up there, there with him and it was just, my driver got drunk and I’ve been trying to leave for hours and, yeah that about sums it up.”

And like, she’s glad she got a young driver because she actually feels fine talking about that with her and it’s nice to tell someone else how unfortunate her night has been. 

“Oh yikes,” Camila shudders, extra - ly but Lauren just giggles, glad she’s getting in a better mood already. “I’d have walked home hours ago.”

“I would’ve but I live on the west side of the campus so it’s a bit of a hike,” she replies.

(AN this is a made up campus i d on not know what campus would have a twenty minute erie from one side to the other i am sorry deeply but not really thx u)

“No way! I live by there too, what dorm are you in?”

“I’m in Kingsly,” Lauren replies with a fake gag and Camila laughs, nodding in agreement since that’s known to be a shitty area. 

“I’m Dalton, it’s not that much better but anything is better than Kingsly,” she jokes as Lauren nods in agreement. “What year are you?" 

And like, the girls kind of just click. 

They talk for the whole twenty minutes and Camila thanks Lauren in the end for living close to her so she can end her night back home which Lauren accepts despite having not done it on purpose which Camila shushes her about. 

Lauren spends the night thinking about Camila, and her cute little smile and her cute hair and her cute eyes and her cute self and well, it’s no shock when she finds herself ordering an uber two days later to the library just to see it Camila will get her. (She waits the two days so she doesn’t seem desperate.) And when she sees that Camila is her driver she may or may not do a little happy dance. 

"Long time no see,” Camila grins as Lauren gets not the car. “First partying now library though, I have to say I’m shocked at the change.”

“Oh so partiers can’t be studious too?” Lauren jokes and they easily fall into conversation. 

They fall into such good conversation about books and reading that Camila decides to follow her into the library to check out some stuff but that’s kind of a negative since Lauren didn’t actually plan on staying at the library (she just wanted to see Camila, can you blame her?).

After grabbing a book on something biology related though, Lauren looks studious as fuck and decides to check out. Camila offers her a ride back and Lauren can’t help but grin like a love struck fool when she pulls open the shot gun door and says she thinks they should “take this step in their relationship”. 

And that’s how it starts.

Lauren pretending she need sot go places to talk to Camila, and Camila driving her there and filling her days with jokes and adorableness. 

“Hey super star, what’s cooking?” Camila grins as she leans back in her seat and waits for Lauren to get in. 

“Hallo,” Lauren smiles, not hesitating in unplugging Camila’s phone form the AUX  she learned a while ago that Camila doesn’t mind and turning on her “good vibes” playlist. When “Close” by Nick and Tove Lo fills the air Camila smiles brightly and begins the journey. (Camila has a crush on him, she just won’t admit it, but Lauren doesn’t mind spoiling her with a song every now and then cause who tf don’t have a crush on Nick Jonas.)

She just wanted McDonald’s, and she knows uber delivers food too now, but she’d prefer to get Camila. 

“So you really want that McD’s crap or will you let me get you Wendy’s instead?” Camila cuts in after a second of starting the drive. 

Lauren huffs, pretending to be offended, but answers anyways, “Honestly that’s a hike though, unlike you I ain’t getting paid to spend time with you so I’m feeling the crap.”

Camila looks at the smirking girl for another moment before banging a u-turn and taking off for the city center that Lauren knows the Wendy’s is located. “My treat, the ride and food, consider it payback for you constantly paying my electricity bills with this shit." 

"Wendy’s and the AUX?” Lauren grins, turing up the volume and leaning her chair back to recline, “my kind of date Cabello." 

She loves eyeing Camila blush, so yeah, she says stuff like that a lot since it’s easy to get the other girl to blush. 

And the thing is, they’re kind of kind of dating. Like they go out to lunch a lot now after that time, and usually Camila will cover the food since Lauren covers the gas and such. (One time Lauren even catches her sneaking bill sin to her purse when she goes to the bathroom to pay her back for the drive, and eventually they’re just texting each other to get lunch instead of doing the whole uber thing. 

And the thing is, Lauren really thinks she might be going crazy for Camila. She really likes her and, well Lauren isn’t one to like somebody, she never has and she didn’t think she’d ever be the relationship type if she’s being honest, but something about Camila’s dorky charm and adorable jokes has her smitten. 

She tries to tell her this, but every time she does she trips over hr words and ends up not committing. 

When she finally does tell Camila about her crush, about what’s been on her mind, she does so in probably the most awkward encounter ever. 

She’s cheap, so she always goes for the uber pools, but she’s never had to share a car with someone. Of course though, as soon as she opens her mouth about it her luck changes. 

"Hey Lo what’s-” Camila starts but Lauren cuts her off, wanting to shoot the bull in the horns or whatever the fuck.

“I like you,” she starts as soon as she shuts the door to Camila’s small car. At Camila’s confused look she continues, “I really, really like you and I really have for a while and I, I know we only talk every now and then but I’m crazy about you and-" 

And then the back door is opening, and the man to ruin Lauren’s time to shine steps into the car. 

"Hey sorry, I saw her get in and didn’t know if it was the right car,” he smiles, gesturing towards Lauren as he straps his seatbelt on. 

“It’s fine, it’s, it’s okay yeah it’s greta okay we can go now,” Lauren answers for a still shocked Camila who’s mouth is about flopping at this point.

“Lo I-”

“Drive Camz,” Lauren says under her breath, glad that the man is paying more attention to his phone than their conversation. “We can talk later… or forget it, let’s forget it thank youu.” And yeah, she books it from the car as soon as the car stops. 

(She still gives Camila five stars of course and a five dollar tip for any mental trouble she put her through.)

Camila shows up at her apartment a few days later, no uber request, no call to let her know she’s coming, no knock really, she was just there as Lauren was going out for coffee and when she asked if Lauren would come with her the green eyed girl couldn’t find it in herself to hesitate.

They’d driven by the set up before, but when Camila pulls aside into the lot with the view Lauren thinks maybe this girl is meant for her (if she’s willing to do this cheesy, sappy shit).

It’s almost seven, and it’s mid November so it’s chilly and Camila’s brought blankets to wait for the sun to go down and it’s, quite literally it’s the most perfect thing Lauren could’ve imagined. 

All awkwardness she could’ve expected after their last encounter is gone as she curls up next to Camila and eventually they’re cuddled up on the hood of her car talking about everything and nothing.

Camila ends up holding her, and she also ends up breaking the comfortable silence they fall into once it’s finally dark out.

“Can I tell you something?” Camila asks after a few minutes of silence.  Lauren doesn’t bother lifting her head from the older girls chest, just nods into her because she’s too content in the moment to ruin anything. 

She feels the deep breath Camila takes and notices the shake to Camila’s hand as it rests itself on her waist, curling around her to pull her just a little bit closest before saying, “I kind of have an uber big crush on you,” and yup, Lauren thinks she could fall in love with this girl without trying. 

She does pull back then, but she doesn’t ruin the moment, she makes it better, finally connecting their lips after what’s felt like years, and what has definitely been worth it.

When she finally pulls back it’s because they’re both smiling too hard to keep kissing, so yeah, it’s kind of a perfect moment.  

[rcmik]

There was a crash this morning. 2:03, on the dot, just like every other morning. Remik knows because he keeps his phone under his pillow, because he checks, and because it's absolutely fascinating. Almost as fascinating as the heavy weight of someone watching him moments later, crawling up his spine, spreading goose-bumps over his flesh like the unprecedented surge of fear that wars with his curiosity. This has been going on for months now, like clockwork. It's not all the time, not a consistently every day occurrence, but it's enough that he knows it's not just the drugs. He knows it's not just his imagination. He knows that he can't find an explanation, and he knows that he's not entirely sure that he wants to either.

It's for this reason that he drags himself out of bed at 6:00 sharp with complete exhaustion weighing his weary bones down, making him ache through every part of him, and suddenly crave coffee more than he's ever craved anything. He takes a shower, he gets dressed, and when he goes downstairs, he closes the door to the basement, hanging open as per usual and for no feasible reason. He resists the urge he has to peer down into the musky darkness. It never turns anything up, and fuck if he's going to actually go down and explore. He never has been in there, not in five years, and he refuses to break that streak now. He values his life more than he actually lets on at times. Shocking, really.

So, Mik makes himself a coffee, and he sucks it down eagerly, the drumming of his fingers against the ceramic the loudest thing in the old house before he begins to hear his aunt stir upstairs. She'll be down here shortly, and by then he'll be gone, cleared out before she has a chance to put him under the microscope she seems to consistently carry around these days. It isn't as if she doesn't have a reason, but for some reason that line of logic doesn't serve to make Remik any less bitter about it than he is. It's silly, even to him, that he would consistently betray her trust and then get offended by the lack of it, but hey, he can't he expected to control all of his feelings, now can he?

Finishing off the rest of his coffee and not feeling any better for the caffeine, he manages to resist the way his fingers tick with nervous energy towards his pocket, and instead he clears his throat loudly as he plucks his keys from the brown wooden bowl on the counter-top nearest the door that leads into the garage, filled with odds and ends from all over the place. He presses his thumb into the button that will unlock his doors even as he unlocks the one to the garage and slips out, going for his driver's side and letting himself in. He settles with a huff, leaning back into the seat. He's just fucking tired, is all. He doesn't really need anything aside from to stop being woken up by some weird shit every other night, right? He can't be blamed for his cravings when he's pretty much running on empty, that's for damn sure. Or at least it's how he justifies it to himself when he settles in, windows all rolled up, and reaches into his center console for his lighter and the bit of tinfoil he's got in there. Not proper, but it'll get the job done.

It's all of these factors all rolled into one that make him miss it. Like, outside forces at work, all against him. Maybe if he'd gotten more sleep last night, maybe if he hadn't taken that last hit off that dab, maybe if he drank another ten cups of coffee, or maybe if he just, for once in his fucking life, paid actual, real attention to his car --- maybe, yeah, he would've actually seen it. But he didn't. And now he's fucked.

Calling into the gas station to tell them he has going to be late had been a nightmare. If he hadn't been working there for the last five years or so now to varying degrees, he's more than positive that he would've been fired for this alone. It's incredibly last minute, and since he hadn't actually told them the details of his 'car troubles' --- he doesn't even know them himself, truth be told --- he's fairly certain his boss thinks he's just full of shit. That's not really at the top of his priorities right now, though. His priorities are sort of gravitating around the fucking tow truck taking a year and a half to arrive, leaving him to lean warily against his car on some dusty road in between work and home, feeling like an idiot with flashing signs pointing to him, light-up lettering confirming every negative thought process taking root in his head. He's too high for this. Too high to feel so rough.

It takes a good, long time for his roadside assistance to finally show, and once they do, Remik doesn't feel all that much relief. All he needs are more bills piling up when he can barely bring himself to pay for the ones he has already. Another weight is piled on as he gets into the cab, and he tries to ignore it, tuning out of his savior's ramblings about how good the mechanic at the garage he's suggesting is. Right now, he doesn't particularly car if the mechanic shits rainbows and glitter; he just really wants for his goddamn car to have not broken down off the side of the road. It's an interruption in his routine, that's for sure, but not one that his normally chaotic nature necessarily welcomes.

Given all this, it's really no surprise that when he finally arrives at said garage, he isn't exactly in the best mood. Actually, he's in a particularly foul mood, his mouth twisted into a grimace, and his eyes seeming dull and grey to match the overcast skies outside. He's fiddling with his septum piercing and listening to his own boots on the loose stones decorating the pavement, letting his tow truck driver do their job with his car. He probably needs to find someone to talk to about this. He's got no idea what happened, no idea why it happened, but he's going to need answers pretty quickly if he's still going to have a job after this. Remik hates his life sometimes (re: almost all the time).

The first thing he thinks when he sees who he assumes to be 'the mechanic' that person had been speaking so highly about is that he could probably kick his ass. Years of kickboxing and fitness training, and one look at this guy tells Remik he would get the beat down of his life if he fucked with him. Which he doesn't plan to. Ever.

What draws his eye the most are the tattoos, some parts visible, and others trailing off to disappear beneath his clothes. They decorate nearly every inch of visible skin, aside from large portions of his neck and face (he still has some on both of those areas, it would seem, just not as condensed), and Remik can't help the avid curiosity in which he drinks in the curling lines and shapes, the images in their permanent places on an impermanent body. It's interesting, seeing the things someone wants to wear for the rest of their life, and what's more interesting is making up stories to piece it together in his head. He doesn't have time to do that today, though. There's too much else to look at, from the lip piercing --- there's a scar too; he feels like he's sot of in information overload just processing him --- to the freckles to the smudge of black make-up around eyes so blue he's pretty sure he feels colder somehow, somewhere, just from looking at them and right in his chest. The eyebrow piercing just keeps Mik fiddling with his septum for some reason, lashes fluttering as he stops himself short a few feet away.

All of this lasts a few seconds, maybe, though it feels much longer for him while he's experiencing it, and he knows he hasn't fully absorbed everything, but he also knows it's rude to stare. Even in his poor temperament, he's certainly not trying to be rude to someone who could eat him for breakfast. That would be stupid. Even stupider than he is naturally.

A deep breath is drawn in just before he squares his shoulders, his chin lifting, and belatedly, he notices he has the height advantage. For some reason, the other person had looked far taller just now. "I fucked up my car because my house is haunted." He blurts out, accent a bit thicker for his current state, and then he pauses to think for a moment, a common habit of his. Forcing himself to drop his hand back to his side and praying he didn't leave his jewelry too lopsided, he tries to refocus his thoughts into something a bit more coherent. It doesn't work very well. "You know, a spirit of somebody who has died that has not passed on to the 'other side' or what ever the shit is that people say. They are causing trouble, who ever they are. Wakes me up at two in the morning! Have you ever heard of such a thing?"

Unfortunately for everyone involved, Remik does indeed get to rambling when he's smoked, and now poor, innocent people are going to have to bear the brunt of it. Or, rather, one poor, innocent person, depending on where Roadside Assistance over there got off to. Mik figures they'll just leave and charge him. That's what they usually do.

"What I am asking is would you mind taking a look at it? Deep apologies, I should have lead with that. I am a bit tired." // @lancasters​