#whoa a horse! an actual real live breathing horse!

[xerogravityorange]

Hi hi hi hi hi hi I'm bored so I'm here to annoy you for like 2 seconds because somehow I also don't have social battery but I also wanted to annoy your ask box lol

horse plinko

[laundrybiscuits]

(young man what do you wanna be tag | Ch1-2 on AO3)

“Hey, did you and Jonathan tell Will to ask me about—” Steve glances around like the world’s worst spy, and leans close even though they’re the only living souls in the trailer. “About gay things?”

“Uh,” Eddie says. “No? Wait, Jonathan might’ve.”

Steve pushes both his hands through his hair. “Why would you do that! Shit!”

“Again, I did nothing in this scenario,” says Eddie. “I’m pretty sure this one specific thing is not my fault.”

“He asked me about our relationship,” says Steve. “He wanted gay advice.”

Eddie swallows down his first impulse, which is to demand to know whether Eddie’s advice isn’t good enough for Will all of a sudden. “Okay,” he says instead. “What did you tell him?”

“I don’t know! I quit giving Dustin advice on girls, like, years ago! By the time I was Will’s age, I was pretty busy fucking up the only serious relationship I ever had.”

“Sure, maybe, but you can’t think about age that way. It’s like…” Eddie tilts his head. “For a lot of us, there’s a—a late start, right? It’s like a whole different time scale, because we gotta figure ourselves out first. We don’t get the manual to all this shit, so we either waste our time chasing some kind of picket fence life that we don’t actually want, or we just make it up from scratch.”

“Right, cool, okay,” says Steve. “I didn’t say anything like that. I told him to keep his chin up. I—think I called him slugger.”

Eddie pats him on the shoulder sympathetically, definitely not feeling at all vindicated about the fact that he’s clearly winning at gay mentorship. “Could be worse. What did the littlest Byers say?”

“He’s taller than Jonathan now,” says Steve.

“So not the point, sweetheart.” Eddie rolls his eyes. “C’mon, how’d it go?”

“Shit, I don’t know.” Steve huffs out a breath and pushes his hand through his hair. “Not good, I don’t think. I don’t know what the hell I’m doing with that kid. He just wanted to know how I figured stuff out, and like—why I wouldn’t just go with girls.”

“Yeah, uh, on that note,” says Eddie. “Is this a new development? Like.”

He pauses, trying to figure out the exact right arrangement of words.

“Like…” he says, slowly. “I’m just wondering, you know, why it hasn’t come up before. I mean, you already know about me, everybody knows about me. Is it—”

Did you not want me to think—

Did you not want—

“Pretty new, I guess,” says Steve. He lies back, arms folded behind his head, taking up more than his fair share of Eddie’s bed. Eddie climbs over him and takes his usual place tucked up against the wall, keeping a careful distance.

Steve’s parents are leaving again tomorrow, so this might be the last time for a while. It’s not like they won’t be seeing each other all the time; at this point, they’re so tangled up in each other’s lives that it’s not so unusual for them to hang out every day for weeks without even trying.

But it might be the last time for a while that they lie here like this, in a shadowy space where the line between thoughts and words gets slippery enough to cross. Eddie tries real hard not to think of it as anything special; it’s just his stupid fucking heart running away with him, the way it always does.

“Okay,” says Eddie.

After a while, he says, “Goodnight.” Steve doesn’t answer.

———

“Eddie!” Robin hollers from across the store. “We’re enemies now!”

“Okay!” he yells back. “Why?”

“Why do you think, asshole!”

This is getting unsustainable, so Eddie wanders over to the counter where Robin’s cashing out.

“Is it because I’m giving you a ride home out of the goodness of my heart? Unconventional, but I respect that.”

She chucks a balled-up receipt at his head. “Steve, dumbass.”

“Whoa, whoa,” he says, ducking out of the way and holding up his hands like he’s trying to soothe a spooked horse. “I dunno what he told you, but I didn’t do anything to him.”

“Exactly,” snaps Robin.

“Robin,” he whines, switching tactics. “C’mon, don’t be pissed at me. You know you’re my favorite lesbian in the whole wide world. You’re the cheese in my burger, the fries in my shake. My wretched soul cannot bear the weight of your scorn.”

He can tell she’s still trying to be mad, but the corner of her mouth is twitching, so he drapes himself over the counter and wails, “Milady Robin! Say only that you can forgive my dark and unworthy deeds, whatever they may be, or I shall perish right here in this fine establishment.”

“You really don’t know what you did, huh,” she sighs. “God, you’re the worst.”

Eddie peeks up at her through his hair. “Planning to enlighten me any time soon? Or are we going straight to pistols at dawn?”

“We are going to be driving me home,” says Robin. “And we’re going through Taco Bell on the way. We’re still gonna be enemies, but you can purchase a temporary peace treaty for the low, low price of two chalupas and a large Sprite.”

———

“Hey, Harrington, why’s Robin mad at me?”

“Mad at—? Oh. Uh, I think she misunderstood some stuff.”

Eddie groans. “Is this about the fake dating thing again?”

Steve looks a little pained. “Maybe?”

“Byers needs to go his own way! Call it another—lonely day, or—you know what I mean. Buckley can’t take in every wounded baby bunny that stumbles across her path.”

“I don’t think that’s what’s happening.”

“Sure, okay. So, do I need to defend my honor by finding Will a boyfriend or something?” Eddie pauses. “I realize that sounds like an insane scheme, but consider this: it’s still better than Operation Happy Ending, so I’m standing by it.”

“Not cool, man,” calls Argyle from the floor. Eddie has a theory that Argyle likes lying down on the floor because he’s tall. It’s not a very well-developed theory.

“No, no, I’m fully on board with the name,” Eddie assures him. “Baller name. You hit it out of the park on that one, dude.”

“Righteous,” says Argyle. “Appreciate the support.”

“The idea still sucks,” says Eddie. “But that is one hundred percent the fault of Jonathan Byers, and you remain the utterly blameless light of my life.”

A sudden thought strikes him, and he sits up, dislodging Steve’s hand in his hair.

“Hang on, Steve—did you ever actually tell Will that we’re not dating?”

“What? Yeah, of course.” Steve frowns. “Uh, probably? Man, I don’t really remember.”

Eddie shoots him a squinty look, and Steve holds his hands up. “Dude, I don’t know! I wasn’t trying to lie to the kid, there was a lot going on. Don’t know why he didn’t go ask Argyle instead.”

“Oh, he totally did, my bro,” says Argyle. “I think he’s, like, doing the rounds. I just told him not to worry about a thing and let the Lady Fate lead the way. I dunno if he was ready to embrace the Lady, though. He didn't really seem to get it.”

“Fucking great.” Steve leans back on the couch, staring up at the ceiling. “Between the three of us, maybe he’ll get some kind of actual goddamn life lesson or whatever.”

“Fuck you, I am an amazing Gandalf. I mean mentor,” says Eddie. "Wait, shit. Does that mean Byers has been getting most of his actual gay advice from me? Holy shit, we can't let that happen. I'm like—the worst possible future for that kid. Steve, you gotta go back and try again."

He smacks Steve's shoulder. "Go back and tell him some real stuff! And tell him we're not dating, or he'll think he has to settle for the first loser that threatens him with a broken bottle!"

"Wait, is that—you don't actually think that, do you?"

"I mean, I'd like to say nobody will ever threaten him with a broken bottle, but Lady Fate works in mysterious ways. And frankly, given his whole…" Eddie waves a diffident hand. "Penchant for sniffing out trouble like a bloodhound after a T-bone, he's definitely going to wind up on the wrong end of a bar fight at least once or twice."

He pauses. "Don't tell Jon I said that, he'll wig out."

"Okay, but like—you know you're not—a loser, right?"

Steve touches Eddie’s back, a warm brush of fingers, and Eddie shrugs uncomfortably. "Just a figure of speech, Harrington. Don't worry your pretty little head about my ego, I'm doing great."

"Hell yeah you are," says Argyle. "Great as Gandalf."

Eddie is like 90% sure Argyle doesn't actually know who Gandalf is, but he appreciates the gesture.

"Thanks, dude," he says, poking Argyle’s head with his foot affectionately. "You're a great Gandalf too. The most Gandalferous."

"Can everyone stop saying Gandalf please," says Steve, so obviously Eddie has to bellow "Gandalf Gandalf Gandalf" right in his ear until Steve puts him in a headlock.

It's a pretty good afternoon.

[creweemmaeec11]

Dark Horse Painted White

On the scale of miscalculations, this had to be one of the greatest villain had ever seen.

"Be in your civilian garb," supervillain had said, "That way no one will notice you,"

Oh how wrong they'd been. Because not only had they been noticed, they'd been mistaken for a civilian, who'd simply been in the wrong place at the wrong time and gotten dragged into the situation.

Which is how they ended up here, in witness protection, under *hero*.

Miscalculation? More like the biggest royal screw-up of the century.

And unless they wanted to lose everything they'd worked the past few years for, they had no choice but to play along. They certainly weren't going to be sinking with supervillain's ship.

"This is really unnecessary," the villain tried for the 3rd time, "I'm sure I will be fine-"

"Unfortunately we can't risk it," the officer told them, "this is the first time we've gotten a chance like this,"

"I do not want witness protection," the villain stated, dropping the kindness in their previous tone and trying for assertive, "I'm really not comfortable with a stranger being in my house-"

"I'm afraid this isn't up for debate," the officer replied, "besides, hero is not a stranger, the whole city knows them. With this being such a high-profile case, I am assigning them to you directly," he stated before being swept away conversing with another officer.

Which is how the villain ended up here, the city's hero holding a small suitcase stood at their front door at 9pm at night.

"Sorry I'm late," the hero greeted, slightly out of breath, and way to happy considering everything that just went down, "Paperwork and all that," they laughed, before extending their hand, "nice to meet you!"

The villain didn't budge from their place, hand tightening on the door handle. They glared at the outstretched hand like they were hoping it would spontaneously ignite.

The hero's smile faltered, hand dropping awkwardly, "anyway, um,'

"Go home," the villain said simply, beginning to close the door, "I don't need you here,"

"Whoa, whoa, hold on!" Hero cried, holding the door open with their hand. As they did, a low growling could be heard emanating from down the hall.

Villain glanced over their shoulder, "Easy you two," they commanded, and immediately the growling stopped.

With that, they turned back around to face their unwanted guest; before they could get a word out, the hero started rambling.

"Look I know having me in your house isn't exactly proprietary and I really am sorry to intrude like this but we don't know what supervillain is capable of. I'm sure after the day you've had, having me here is the last thing you want, but the sooner you let me in, the sooner this can be over with and you can go back to your normal civilian life, okay? But you could be in real danger right now,"

Their voice and face were pleading, and although villain had been ready to slam the door in their face, something about their tone made them hesitate.

*They actually sounded worried for them*

Ugh.

The villain stared, considering them, before giving something between a groan and a sigh. They let their hand fall away from the door.

If they forced the hero away, it would only look more suspicious.

They didn't say anything else, simply turning and walking back inside the house, leaving the door open.

"Thank you," the hero said, sounding relieved as they stepped in after them. They closed the door.

The hero stood awkwardly in the doorway, watching the other walk away through the living room and into the kitchen without another word.

It was only then the hero noticed the two giant dogs trailing behind them.

Both looked a lot like german shepherds. The first was a cream white while the other was an onyx black.

Before they could deduce any further, the trio disappeared into the kitchen.

The hero fumbled to quickly take their shoes off and scurry after them.

Villain was at the counter chopping up something on a cutting board when the hero entered.

"Your dogs are beautiful," the hero commented, standing awkwardly in the entrance to the kitchen.

The rhythmic chopping at the counter stopped for a second, before continuing, "thank you,"

The villain put the bits of meat they'd been chopping into two bowls before walking over to place them on the ground.

The dogs waited until the villain gave a gesture with their hand for them both to start eating.

"Wow, they are so well trained!" The hero chimed, "Did you train them yourselves?"

"Yes," the other replied simply. After another beat of silence they turned around to face the hero, "You can sleep on the couch in the living room,"

"Oh! Right! Of course," the hero replied, putting on their best smile, "no guest room huh? That's okay," they joked.

"The guest room is for guests" the villain replied coldly, "which you are not,"

The hero blinked, face faltering, "I- right," they conceded, "no worries, uhm... may I borrow a blanket?"

The villain sighed. They wanted to say no, absolutely not, hero was not borrowing any of their things, yet that... felt unnecessarily cruel. They sure as hell weren't planning on being hospitable, nevermind entertain any of the hero's attempts at companionship, but...

"Fine," the villain stated. They didn't have to be inhumane. Showing too much hostility towards hero would raise questions. There had to be a balance. They'd pick their battles.

Without another word, the villain disappeared down another hallway.

The hero sighed, bringing their suitcase over to the living room. The couch in question was very large, so it thankfully shouldn't be too difficult to sleep on.

The click-clack of claws on the hardwood floor began getting closer, and the villain emerged from around the corner with their two dogs, with a large comforter and extra pillow in their arms.

They tossed the items unceremoniously onto the other end of the couch, dumping them like one would trash into a bin.

"The bathroom is the first door on the left, so there's no reason you should be any further down the hall. You can help yourself to whatever is in the fridge, strictly because I'd rather that than you getting any deliveries here," the villain explained.

"Okay, got it. Thank you, uh... Avery? Was it?"

The villain's eyes turned cold in an instant, any previous hints of hospitality gone, "not for those who want to live to tell the tale it isn't,"

The hero held up their hands in a show of peace, "Okay, okay, what... uhh.."

"Ari," the villain replied. They glanced down as the white dog pushed their head against them. They complied with the dog's request, petting their head and smoothing down over their pointed ears. Their face and voice immediately softened as their gaze fell to the animal beside them, "that's what people call me, Ari,"

The villain couldn't exactly say what people *actually* called them most of the time, but the sound of their real name on the hero's tongue was... nerve-wracking to say the least.

"Okay, that works," the hero assuaged, "Thank you for the blanket,"

The villain simply crossed their arms, taking a moment to scan the hero up and down before abruptly turning away, "I'm going to bed," they declared, "it's been a long day. You can use the tv if you want, ask the dogs for the remote," they explained as they walked away.

"Ask the *dogs*?" The hero questioned in confusion, but the only response they got was the sound of a door closing down the hallway.

Now that they were alone, the hero finally had the chance to take a deep breath and think about everything that had happened today.

And *man*, had it been a day. They'd not only caught *supervillain,* gotten them in *cuffs*, but now also had a real witness.

Not that convincing them to testify against supervillain would be an easy feat, especially this... particular civilian for sure.

Hero had never met such an ungrateful person! Hero had saved their life today, and was now dedicating their time to protecting them, and they couldn't even be bothered to let the hero sleep in the spare bed!? Usually hero would have been indignant at least, but they were so baffled by civilian's behaviour they were left pretty speechless.

In certain circles, it could be argued that in and of itself was an accomplishment.

They flopped back, laying down on the couch to stare at the ceiling with a sigh.

Hero couldn't remember the last time a civilian had been able to speak to them like a normal human being. Usually they swooned, went starry-eyed or at the very least got terribly tongue-tied and flustered. It was nice, of course, to be appreciated, and while the hero had long since gotten used to it, there were days they missed conversing with a stranger like a normal person. They couldn't remember the last time they'd experienced that.

Yet this civilian didn't seem to so much as bat an eye! The things most civilians would say, would *do*, at the news hero would be staying with them! Yet Ari seemed appalled! They looked at hero not only like they were no one special, but like they were somehow even farther *below* that.

Because sure, of course there was the odd civilian they encountered who didn't go crossed-eyed with stars, and that was nice, but they still treated hero like royalty, afraid of getting on their bad side, or hoping to gain something from getting on their good one.

To be able to unflinchingly threaten them over speaking their real name, so casually. Something about it was... strangely intriguing.

Maybe that was twisted, to be enticed by someone who seemed to think so lowly of you, and yet...

Not that hero *enjoyed* being talked down to. They got enough of that from the countless villains across the city already. Civilians' hostility towards them was likely a side effect of the day they'd had. Hero could certainly understand that.

Having them here was likely just dragging out the event that civilian probably wished they could just go home and forget about. Hopefully their attitude would improve come morning.

Part 2

[bold-writing]

The One With Whiskey Eyes || 10 || Simple Comforts

Warnings: mentions of abuse.

Words: 3200+

Previous || Next

~10~

Iris had never been the kind of person that would stare at the clock as her shift drew to a close, but this was definitely one of those days; nearly from the moment BT had left, she had been almost glued to the clock on the computer screen next to where she was working. Jessica had noticed her change in behaviour, but she hadn’t made any comment in case it was because she was still shaken from what had happened with the man she’d fought.

 What surprised Iris the most was that there were no comments about how BT had called her ‘mine’ when he’d scolded the would-be robber. Truthfully, only Jessica had heard the comment, but she knew for a fact that her coworkers were a gossipy bunch. She wasn’t about to look a gift-horse in the mouth, however, so she gladly stepped back and did her work as she enjoyed the relative peace of the store. There were no other instances that happened; most of those who came in were regulars.

 She was really looking forward to not having to hear people say “oh, honey, you’re so pale!” any more that day.

 Taking in a deep breath to relax herself as she made her way into the back room of the store, her locker and work bag sitting there waiting for her to end her shift. Pulling off her compression work gloves and dropping them on the top shelf, the pale woman exchanged them for a warmer outdoor pair to cover the back of her hand once more. Her small satchel carried her wallet and her phone, ensuring that she wasn’t lugging around a lot of weight on her way home.

 She was always ready to run, and after all these years she was pretty good at it, too.

 Pulling her coat on over her sweater, Iris carefully pulled her braid out from her jacket so as not to tug the strands before slinging her bag over one shoulder. She quickly checked the time on her phone before it went in her bag. Iris pulled the zipper of her sweater all the way up to the end, meeting just beneath her chin. It was slightly warmer today, but still a bit nippier than she was accustomed to or preferred. Just cold enough that she made sure to wear her coat.

She could feel her hands shaking, trembling at the realization that she was going to be with yet another of her soulmates. BT was the first to make an outward display of violence while with Iris, and somehow it hadn’t startled her or scared her. Normally, violence would scare her away but when it came to BT it was oddly…reassuring.

 Waving to her coworkers as she walked past the aisles and counters, Iris was relieved to be leaving work—for once. Usually, it was when she had to leave for home that made her regret not having another job.

 Meeting her soulmates really was changing everything about her life.

 Her eyes were drawn to the front window, where she had sat on the bench with BT earlier that day; he was already there. Sitting with his ankles crossed, legs stretched far out in front of him, BT was as relaxed as could be while he was waiting, a few minutes early from the time they had decided on. As though knowing that she was there, he glanced over his shoulder to meet her eyes through the window. Immediately, a smile lit his features as he stood up and turned to face the window fully.

 “Have a good evening, Iris!”

 “Thank you, Jessica, you as well,” Iris called over her shoulder before she slipped out of the store and into the chill of the evening. BT’s hands slipped into his pockets as he greeted her with a smile.

 “How was your shift?” he asked with a cautious grin.

 “Just fine; happily boring,” she assured, knowing that he was asking as a way of making sure that nothing else had happened to her after he’d left that morning. “What about you, how was your day?”

 “I didn’t do much, definitely distracted after this morning, so I guess it’s a good thing I didn’t have work,” he admitted somewhat shyly, causing her to smile bashfully as her gaze fell to her feet. “So, you have anything planned tonight?” he asked as casually as he could, scuffing his shoes against the concrete as though in nervous habit.

 Iris looked up to gauge his expression, noticing that he seemed to be half-dreading, half-anticipating her response. “No, no plans tonight. Why?”

 Some of the tension left him, but he didn’t relax entirely. “Wanna go for dinner? My treat.”

 Iris’s heart leapt in excitement as her stomach tangled in nervous knots. “I’d love to, BT. But you don’t have to pay-”

 “’Ey, no. That’s the only condition—I pay.”

 Biting on the inside of her left cheek, Iris already knew that arguing was pointless. “Alright, fine, you pay,” she conceded, shaking her head both at herself and at him. “You pick where we go, then.”

 BT’s smile was nearly blinding as he reached down and snatching Iris’s hand, pulling her in close to him as he turned away from the direction of her apartment. The additional change in her everyday routine made her slightly twitchy, an aftershock of discomfort ricocheting in her chest, but then BT squeezed her hand and started to ramble about the restaurants that he knew around town, all the while asking if she had any allergies or foods that she absolutely couldn’t stand.

 No allergies and barring only sushi or other raw meats, BT pondered for a moment before he grinned broadly again and snapped the fingers of his free hand excitedly. “I know just the place, and I promise ya, doll, you’re gunna love it!”

 She didn’t have time to react before he was tugging more insistently, nearly dragging her down the street. “Whoa, careful! My legs are shorter than yours!”

 BT immediately slowed down for her, his strides still long but significantly reduced in speed. “Sorry, doll, just got excited,” he apologized immediately as a bashful smile softened his features. “You are definitely tiny, though. Look at you!”

 “Stop,” Iris whined, leaning away when he used his free hand to hover over her head, demonstrating the limit of her height. “You guys are the worst; what’s so wrong with being short?”

 His teasing expression softened at her words, tugging her into his side again as he smiled reassuringly. “There’s nothing wrong, doll. In fact, you’re absolutely perfect in my opinion—just the right height for us to tuck you in real close.” To demonstrate, he shifted so that his arm was wrapped over her shoulder and he was able to pull her in tight against his side. Iris’s tiny stature had her with her head barely over his shoulder, so her body really did slot perfectly against his.

 Her cheeks heated at the close contact, ducking her head while leaning into him ever so slightly. “Well, I’m way past the age for getting a growth spurt, so you’re stuck with me like this.”

 BT smiled down at her before he swooped down and pressed a kiss against the crown of her head, much the same as he had done before he left that morning. “Don’t you worry—you won’t hear any of us complain about that.”

 “Good to know,” she mumbled, momentarily shocked at having received two affectionate kisses from him.

 She glanced along the street at the other people that were walking around, none of which were paying attention to the two of them. It shocked her, since she had always assumed that people were staring at her—judging her silently, even if they couldn’t actually see any of her marks. Taking a calming breath, she forced herself to focus on BT’s presence to her side.

 “So, do I get any hints about where we’re going?” she asked after a brief pause between them, remaining close to BT.

 Shaking his head, BT refused to give even the slightest hint and instead declared that it was going to be a total surprise. Looking down at her slightly flushed complexion, the tiny smile that turned up the corner of her lips, even the whiskey eyes that were directed bashfully forward, BT was certain that he could spend the rest of his time in the light just looking at her. Taking her in. It made him wonder if this was how Barry felt when it came to his art, and the urge he had to draw things.

 What he would give to be able to engrain her in his mind forward; to do so with every moment he had with her.

 None of them had really known what to expect when it came to meeting their soulmate. They’d heard from others about their experiences, and each of them had taken the time to look on the internet at people’s stories from their lives with a soulmate, dating back to their first encounter. However, they knew that it would be different for them. All sharing one body, and one soulmate, was bound to make it interesting.

 BT had been concerned when Barry took the helm; he spent most of the time in the light, and therefore the rest of the alters were worried that he would spend all the time he wanted with their future soulmate. Thankfully, that wasn’t the case, but it was still a worry none the less.

 He was going to be in trouble with Barry later, that was for certain. He’d told them to just let things fall as they may and not to force a meeting with Iris. However, it was just too good of an opportunity to pass up! To think that she was just down the street, so close to him but just out of reach all because Barry said so. No, he wasn’t going to just sit by and miss this opportunity for himself.

 And he was so, so glad that he had gone against Barry���s orders. The rage that had gripped him when he’d seen the true and authentic fear on Iris’s face, her soft coloured eyes narrowed and scared as she was faced with a man much larger than her, had been enough to cause his muscles to shake with tension. He’d come in just in time to see the smack he received to the back of his hand, reminding BT about what Luke had told him regarding her surprisingly fast reflexes, and the faintest bit of pride welled in his chest.

 She was a tiny thing and it was clear that intimidation had some effect on her, but she hadn’t let that stop her. Lashing out as she had proved that, although her backbone looked frail, it was sturdy.

 Holding her just a little bit closer, Iris glanced up at him curiously. He made sure that he wasn’t glaring or showing any of the anger from remembering that morning, and instead beamed down at her with one of his best smiles before he pressed another kiss against her hair. “Almost there. You tired from work?”

 “Yea, it was a long day. Having that man come in this morning set me on edge, too. I was tense all day,” she admitted quietly, nearly bowing her head down in embarrassment. “And I was excited to see you again.”

 “Aw, doll, I’m touched,” BT teased gently, placing his free hand over his heart in a mock-swoon. “But if we’re confessing an all, you’ve been on my mind all day.” Her pale cheeks were immediately dusted with another blush, to which BT silently celebrated. He loved it when her cheeks went rosy, it made her look livelier, but at the same time similar to a china doll. “And it wasn’t just ‘cause I was worried about you. I’ve been hoping all day that you’d say yes to dinner.”

 “Well, no more worrying,” she answered softly, giving him one of the brighter smiles he’d seen from her thus far.

 “And on that note,” he stated suddenly, slowing his stride as they approached a street corner. “We’re here.”

 Iris looked up toward the sign that wrapped around the corner. New York, New York. It was a pizza place, considered to have the best pizza from New York. “I’ve heard of this place,” she started happily, thankful that it was just a simple place and not something overly fancy. People in restaurants with big open rooms almost made her feel uncomfortable and exposed. A pizzeria she could do. “Never been here, though.”

 “Well, prepare to be absolutely amazed,” BT assured, stepping forward to grab the door for her. Iris smiled and nodded her thanks as she stepped inside, immediately overwhelmed with the smell of cheese, tomatoes and fresh dough. BT stepped in behind her, returning his arm over her shoulders as though in protective gesture.

 An older man, who Iris strongly assumed was Italian, beamed at them from the counter. “Welcome! What can I get for you two?” Yep, definitely Italian.

 BT grinned back before he turned his attention down to Iris. “What do you say, separate slices or we go all the way and get a deep dish?”

 Iris offered back a mirroring grin, though much more subdued than BT’s. “Deep dish,” she answered confidently.

 “Pepperoni?”

 “Can’t go wrong with that,” she answered immediately.

 BT was already pulling out his wallet from the back pocket of his jeans. “I’ll order, you go grab a table.” Iris knew that trying to argue about who was going to pay was useless, so she simply nodded and moved over to a free booth near the door to the kitchen. The smells coming from inside drew her in, wrapping her in comfort. She’d never really been one to eat out, so when it came to getting pizza or another greasy, in-no-way good for you food, she always found it to be a comfort.

 Sliding into the booth, Iris looked over when she heard BT’s booming laugh. He was joking with the older man behind the counter as he waited for his change. The bright smile on his face was contagious and Iris soon felt her own lips curving upward at the sight. BT glanced over at her in that instant, the soft blue of his eyes meeting her whiskey ones before he grin grew even more when he caught her watching him with a smile.

 Immediately bashful, Iris’s eyes lowered to the hands she had folded in her lap as her cheeks warmed with yet another blush. Her heartrate increased as she looked down at the back of her hand, the mark covered by her spring gloves. Suddenly, the sight of the mark covered up didn’t sit as well with her. BT showed off all of his marks with pride, even if he was going to receive looks of ridicule from people that he passed on the street.

 Swallowing thickly, Iris eased the glove off her hand and moved to tuck them into her simple bag alongside her phone. The pizzeria was warm enough that she’d overheat from wearing them anyway. BT slid into the booth across from her in that moment, the smile never having left his face.

 “So, what did you do today? If you don’t mind me asking,” she added on quickly, not sure if she was overstepping her bounds.

 BT just laughed it off. “Ask me anything you want, I won’t mind,” he assured, “and I was at the gym for most of the day. I like to exercise, probably a bit more than I should but…everyone’s got their thing.”

 Iris smiled in assurance as she remembered her discussion with Barry; his thing was art. “I understand completely,” she assured. “I love music. I’ve always used it when I needed to calm down or if I needed help focusing on something. It…centers me.”

 BT leaned forward in interest, lacing his fingers together on the table as he leaned on his elbows. “Yea? Like, you play instruments?”

 “Some,” she answered bashfully, nervously tracing her finger over the mark on the back of the hand, hidden beneath the table so no one could see. “I only took some lessons for things, so I’m mostly self-taught. Most of the lessons I took were singing lessons, actually.” His eyebrows immediately went up in surprise, though thoroughly interested, and Iris couldn’t help but to feel some pride at the expression of wonder that soon fell over his features.

 “You know you’re gunna have to sing for me now, right? You can’t just say that and not let me hear.”

 Iris covered her face in embarrassment. “Oh god, no. I’ve never sung in front of someone,” she admitted, her words muffled against her hands. BT’s eyes flicked briefly to the black mark on her hand but the writing too small for him to make out. Reaching out, he took a gentle hold of her hands and drew them away from her face to show the reddened, flushed skin beneath.

 “Relax, doll, there’s no pressure,” he promised calmly, gifting her with a more subdued, true smile. “I’d love to hear it, believe me, but only when you really want to.”

 In the past, Iris was accustomed to people reacting in much more demanding ways. They’d see her fiddling with piano keys and immediately demand that she play something, or she’d be singing under her breath when she thought no one was around at work and they’d ask her to sing something. With BT, to know that he was patient enough to wait for her to be confident in her own talents, it warmed her heart.

 “Thank you,” she whispered, meeting his eyes shyly.

 BT just smiled in return and lifted her hands to press a kiss against her knuckles in comfort. “So, what lessons, aside from singing, did you take?”

 They fell into comfortable conversation as they waited for their pizza, Iris telling him about the brief lessons she had taken for piano, guitar and violin, all by an older woman who’d retired and wanted to share her love of music. When she’d realized that Iris had a natural talent for music, she’d given her a discount on lessons and had proceeded to teach her the beginner lessons and some more advanced ones. Unfortunately, she’d gotten sick after two years and her family moved her out of state to a home that was closer to them.

 She was probably one of the closer things Iris had ever experienced similar to family affection. She’d known about Iris’s marks, at least the few that she could see, and had never judged her. “I’ve lived through too much to start judging other people,” she’d told her. “I’m met a few soulmate groups over the years and they were always the happiest people out there.”

 Knowing that other people with multiple marks had made happy lives for themselves had given Iris hope, some of the fear that lingered with the ‘what if’ thoughts dissipating.

 And now that she’d met some of them, each as charming and kind as the last, Iris finally felt that she could live in peace with her marks.

Previous || Next

[toothpastecanyon]

A Name From the Mailbox, Chapter 1

Dipper finds out the author's name before Not What He Seems. It's not the person he expected.

See most updated version on Archive of Our Own.

______________________________________________________________

“Step right up to the Mystery Shack, folks! Name’s Stanford Pines, Mr Mystery!”

Dipper looked up as Stan came through the door. He watched his uncle shoot him a winning grin before turning it on a group of unsuspecting tourists.

“This right here’s the gift shop! I know this kinda place is usually the last stop at your museum or whatever, but we do it different here, folks! Look around; everything’s weird, and it’s for sale! Buy something. Seriously, we’re not moving on till everyone buys something.”

He looked at the tourists milling about the counters, and jumped slightly when Stan appeared next to him.

“How’s it hanging, kid?”

“Wh-what?”

“You look like you seen a ghost or a shower or something.” Stan flipped up his eyepatch. “You been staying up too late again? I told you you were working the till today.”

He stared at his uncle’s face. Underneath the table, his hands clenched a piece of paper.

“Uh, Grunkle Stan?”

“Yeah?”

“Can I… can I ask you somethi-“

“Hey, tourists coming your way.” Stan jumped up. “Tell me after the tour, eh?”

“But-“ Dipper watched him walk off. He made a face, and looked down to the note in his hands he’d taken from a mailbox in the woods.

WHO IS THE AUTHOR? It read.

THE AUTHOR OF THE JOURNALS IS STANFORD FILBRICK PINES.

“You like that shirt, kid? If you throw in another one, I’ll make it two for the price of three!” Stanford Pines stood before the line, leaning on his cane. “No refunds!”

    Dipper frowned.

______________________________________________________________

    “There’s no way he’s the author.”

    “Aww, c’mon, Dipper!” Mabel swung her feet as she sat on her bed. “You said the same thing about McGucket, and look what happened there! Maybe Grunkle Stan really wrote it?” She grinned. “Maybe he knows about unicorns! We should ask him, Dipper! Dipperrrr!”

    Dipper stood in front of his corkboard. He pressed Stan’s picture against the centre, and then hesitated. “It just… it doesn’t line up. If he’s the author, what’s the deal with the six fingers? And the whole Mystery Shack thing - why would he just drop all his research to open a tourist trap in the middle of nowhere?”

    “Maybe he’s doing it in secret?”

    “Maybe, but… it just doesn’t make sense that it’s him.” He rolled his eyes at the photo of Stan posing with his wax twin. “I thought that the author was gonna be someone who actually likes the supernatural, for one. Stan doesn’t even want to talk about it with me.”

    Mabel watched him sigh, and slump against the bedrest. She came over, and put a hand on his shoulder.

    “Hey, bro, maybe you should tell him!”

    “Why? It took raising the dead for him to admit magic exists at all. I don’t think he’d admit to it even if he was the author.”

    “Oh, yeah, karaoke night! We should do that again!” She giggled at his expression. “I’m joking, goober. But really, you should just ask him. He promised to be more honest with us, right? Maybe if he knows you know, he’ll know it’s okay to let you know what he knows, you know?”

    “What he promised was that he wouldn’t keep any more secrets,” Dipper muttered, but he rose to his feet. “Fine. I guess it’s worth asking first. You think he’s in the living room?”

“Yeah, I saw him watching that weird fancy soap opera when I went to find Waddles. He tried to change the channel before I saw it, but he can’t hide anything from me!”

“Apparently, he can.” Dipper picked up the journal, stared at it for a moment, then put it under his arm. “Let’s go, Mabel.”

The two of them made their way down the stairs, and into the hallway. The light of the TV left a harsh glow on the floorboards as they stepped into the living room. Stan was sitting there in the dark; Dipper looked at his face, and for a moment he really tried to imagine Stan as the author, as the man who’d spent years in the forests of Gravity Falls, who’d made dozens of intricate illustrations and detailed notes on the oddities within…

Then Stan met his eyes, and he jumped. Stan jumped too, and quickly changed the channel.

“Oh, kids! I was looking for something to watch, but there’s, uh, nothing on.” He coughed. “You wanna put on a movie, or something?”

“Ooo, Dream Boy High!”

“Mabel!” Dipper shot her a look. “That’s not why we came down here.”

“Awww…”

“Oh yeah?” Stan scratched his chest. “What’s up, kid?”

Dipper took a deep breath. He clenched the journal against his chest. “Uh, Grunkle Stan?”

“Yeah?”

“You know the, uh, the journal, right?” He watched Stan’s face carefully. “I’ve spent - we’ve spent, um, all summer so far trying to figure out who the author of it is, and - you’ve lived in Gravity Falls all your life, right?”

“More or less.” He frowned. “Why? I told you, I don’t know nothing about that spooky journal of yours.”

“But we’re starting to think you do, Grunkle Stan! We think… you’re the author!” He waited for Stan to say something, but he just furrowed his brow and turned up the TV. “We found this - this mailbox in the woods that knows everything, and we asked it who the author was and it said Stanford Pines!”

Then Dipper saw it: a flash of something across Stan’s face. He stared at Dipper for a moment with wide, shaken eyes, and Dipper blinked.

“It… it’s true! You are the author!”

“Stanford…?” Stan shook his head. “Kid, I’m not the author.”

“But-“

“You found this out from what, a mailbox in the woods? Oh yeah, that’s a real smoking gun.” He chucked, but now Dipper heard something distinctly forced in it. “You really, heh, really found me out!”

“But Grunkle Stan-”

Stan stood up quickly. “Hah, listen, kid, the only thing I’ve been writing for thirty years is attraction signs, and I pawn most of that off on Soos! You really think I’ve got time to wander off into the forest and write all the stuff that journal’s talking about? I got a business to run!”

“But it was an all-knowing mailbox, it couldn’t be wrong…” Dipper clicked his pen. “What about that boarded-up room in the shack, with the mind-switching carpet? That doesn’t make sense, someone had to have made that, and you said you had this Shack built yourself!” He followed Stan into the kitchen. “And hey, why’d you build it so far out of town anyway? And right next to the secret bunker and where this journal was hidden?”

“Secret bunker?” Stan raised an eyebrow. “When’d you kids go down a secret bunker?”

“Like a week ago!” Mabel grinned. “We fought a shapeshifter and Dipper’s inner emotions!”

He frowned. “Whoa, whoa, whoa, you kids went down in some spooky bunker? I thought you promised not to go looking for trouble with that journal!”

“And I thought you promised you didn’t have any more secrets!”

“And I don’t!” Stan shook his head. “Yeesh, kid, I mean, I don’t know what to tell you! I’m not your nerdy author!”

“But-”

He grabbed the journal. “And I’m taking this stupid thing.”

“Hey, Grunkle Stan!”

“I should’ve done it the second I laid eyes on it. You kids get into enough trouble without a literal roadmap to all the weirdness in this place.”

“No! You can’t do that!” Dipper clenched his fists. “Give it back!”

“Whoa, Dipper, calm down, alright?” He stashed the journal under his arm. “Look, it’s for your own good. Your head’s getting way too wrapped up in this mystery stuff; I think you could do with a break.”

“But I’m so close to getting to the bottom of all the big secrets of this town! You can’t take it away now!”

“I’m sorry, kid, but I just can’t trust you with it!” He tried for a grin. “C’mon, how’s about we have some real summer fun rather than this conspiracy junk? Y’know, put on some popcorn, throw on a show… heck, I’ll even let you pick. Don’t get used to it, alright?” He chuckled. “So, what do you say, kids?”

“Yeah!” Mabel looked to her brother. “You should pick Dream Boy High, Dipper! Dipper?”

Dipper looked up at his Grunkle’s face for a moment, took a deep breath, and then spoke. “I say,” he started, “I’m gonna go to my room, and I’m gonna find out what you’re hiding from me, journal or no journal!”

Then he turned and walked out of the room. Stan watched him go, then looked to Mabel, who shrugged.

“I guess he’s not up for it tonight? Anyway, I’ll get the popcorn on, Grunkle Stan-”

“Hey, hey, hold your horses.” He put a hand on her shoulder. “You know, it’s gettin’ late and all. Let’s do this some other time, okay?”

“Oh, really?” She raised an eyebrow at him. “You just want to watch your old man soap opera, don’t you!”

“Heh, sure.” His smile faded a bit. “That’s my secret.”

“Okayyy, but I say we are gonna watch Dream Boy High together this summer!” She gave him a hug. “Night, Grunkle Stan.”

“Night, pumpkin.”

She made her way towards the doorway, and then stopped. “Oh, and Grunkle Stan?”

“Yeah?”

There was a pause. “Are you the author?”

“What?” He blinked. “No. I have no idea what Dipper’s talking about.”

Mabel grinned. “Yeah, I kinda thought so. It sounded really cool, but can’t see you writing that journal.” She looked up at him. “You sure you don’t know anything about unicorns, though?”

“No, kid. I had a horse with a cone taped on its butt once, though. The Corniune!”

Mabel giggled, and they both shared a laugh at that. She stepped away.

“You’re silly, Grunkle Stan. Love you, enjoy your old man show!”

“Goodnight,” Stan said, and watched her skip up the steps. He heard the attic door open and shut, and then sighed. The smile fell from his face, and he stood up, brushed himself off, and looked down at the journal in his hands.

Six golden fingers gleamed at him from the cover, and he rolled his eyes.

“All-knowing mailbox in the woods, huh.” he muttered. “Thanks for telling me about that one, Poindexter.”

[majesty-madness]

An Outlaw’s Better Half (Arthur Morgan x reader series)

https://giphy.com/gifs/rockstargames-revolver-rdr2-reddead-5WIMcQNeu6TWoIrkfB

Summary: Y/N lost her only friends to a gang of thugs, who murdered them all. With nowhere to go, she wanders the streets only to be met with a certain cowboy. After saving her life, Arthur brings her back to camp and everyone is very welcoming. Y/N begins to think maybe this could be her new family, a real family, but how will she react when she learns that the gang that welcomed her with opens arms, steals and kills to get by? 

Chapter One

Word Count: 4000+

Warning: Angst, violence and murder, blood, cursing

Violence wasn’t something that she hadn’t experienced in all of her life of living. It was everywhere and sometimes a necessity if you wanted to survive.

There were times when she had actually used brute force to get away from a sticky situation but it wasn’t until afterward that the events would truly dawn on her. Though she never dwelled on it for long. As long as she made it out alive, that’s all that mattered.

Y/N had recently settled about a mile away from the town of Valentine, the spot was hidden by massive trees and overgrown bushes.

She wasn’t alone, a few other individuals had joined her or rather she joined them. They were a relatively small camp with only ten people. Not at all capable of taking on a whole gang by themselves but strong enough to survive.

Y/N was patching up a ripped hole in a thin quilt of hers when a woman in her mid forties, walked up to her.

“Need any help with that?” She kindly asked, taking a seat next to the young (h/c).

Y/N smiled, “No thanks, Isabelle. I think I can handle it this time. Besides, I’m not sure how you could help me with sewing anyway.”

“I could hold it for you.” Isabelle replied.

The (h/c) abruptly stopped what she was doing and plopped her hands in her lap. “Hold it?” She asked, raising her eyebrow.

“What? I meant like keep it still for ya, that’s all.” Isabelle defended. She gestured to the blue quilt in Y/N’s lap.  

Y/N let out an airy laugh, her body convulsing harshly. “Thanks but I’ve got it.” She wiped her teary eyes and continued to sew.

The older woman playfully scowled. “Alright, fine. Don’t come crying to me when you forget how to tie off the ‘nd.”

“That was one time!” Y/N jabbed back, an amused smile still plastered to her face.

There was a moment of silence, different members of the small group attending to their own chores or activities, and Y/N just remained sitting on a log that sat only two feet from her tent. Then the familiar ear shattering noise caused Y/N and Isabelle to jump up from their seats.

Other members' attention had also been directed toward the sound of the noise. But before they knew what hit them, men on horses were charging straight for them.

Y/N’s small group of people tried to retaliate but were far too late and lacked better aim.

She and Isabelle were attempting to escape when Isabelle caught a bullet to the back and crashed into the young (h/c), sending them both to go tumbling to the dirt ground.

With the adrenaline coursing through her veins, Y/N’s legs were tempted to pull her body back up and push her to start running the opposite direction but her mind quickly came to a conclusion that made every muscle in her body freeze.

If she did try to run then she would surely be killed on the spot so she did what she thought would at least give her a chance to survive. Nothing.

She laid still, right where she had fallen, and closed her eyes. Waiting. Praying that whoever was there would just go away. Especially when she heard the gunslinging gang argue with one another.

“Why did you shoot all the women?! What the hell is wrong with you?!” One man yelled.

“What’cha you talkin ‘bout?” Another man snapped back.

“We could’ve brought’em back to camp, had a good time with them but no! You had to go in guns blazing and now they're all dead!”

Y/N’s breath hitched in her throat at this bit of information. She silently thanked the universe for giving her the wisdom to play dead.

“Oh shut up, you drunken bastard.” The one man grumbled, taking heavy footsteps away from where Y/N was lying.

Hours past. Late morning turned to early evening. The sun was beginning its descent and not once had Y/N moved from her initial position, keeping as still as her body would allow. On several occasions though, she wished she could sink into the ground below and use mother earth as her protective shell when the men wandered particularly close.

And as if the universe was answering her silent pleas, the sound of gravel and dirt crunching under someone’s footsteps shattered the silent air. “We gotta go guys! The law is gonna be on top of us!”

“Damn it! Let’s go boys!” Another man, assumingly their leader, said breaking into a full sprint to his horse.

The way the hooves of their horses made contact with the ground, it was obvious that they were leaving quickly, not sparing another glance back on the camp they’d destroyed only hours ago.

Y/N waited a few minutes just to make sure that they were really actually gone.

When she could only hear the sound of the wind rushing through the trees, she wiggled herself free from the cold, dead grasp of what once was a kind older lady.

She crawled across the ground, her body becoming covered in mud. A few grunts and groans of excursion left her mouth, and eventually she flopped down on her back when finally free.

All was silent. Not a word was spoken. Not a single animal call could be heard. Just the wind, blowing softly through nature’s livelihood.

It was an absolute nightmare.

The silence felt  like a hot knife in her chest, burning and suffocating. She was left to rewind to the events of what had happened.

Hot tears rolled down her cheeks as she quietly cried to herself.

Was she crying for her group or for herself? She wasn’t sure. All she knew was that she was, once again, on her own.

__________

It was night by now and the moon was in full bloom.

Arthur and John were making their way back to camp after finding out a tip they’d heard about in a saloon turned out to be a bust.

Should have known better than to listen to a drunken idiot.

“Got any idea where we can start looking for another score?” John asked, his eyes darting to the back of Arthur’s head.

Arthur shrugged. “I ain’t got a clue. But I’ll head back into town tomorrow, see if there mighta been something we missed.”

“Let me know if you hear about anything.” John replied as he and Arthur continued to make their way down the dirt road.

Arthur nodded. “I will.”

Recently, they haven't had any luck getting any money. Yeah, there was the few occasional stagecoach robberies and such but nothing that could help them move the whole camp somewhere no one would find them. That would require more money than they were able to get.

They needed to leave and soon or else things were gonna end badly for them.

“Get the hell away from me!”

Both Arthur and John raised their heads at the sound of a woman shouting.

About ten feet in front of them stood a group of men, completely surrounding a young lady.

“Stay back!” The woman fearfully hissed, holding up her knife so as to give the impression that she wasn’t afraid but anyone could tell otherwise. Especially these arrogant bastards.

“Oh come on, we just want to have a little fun.” One man smirked, licking his lips with lust coating his eyes.

He reached out to take the woman’s arm and as soon as his hand made contact, she pulled him towards her and jammed her knife deep into his throat.

The man stumbled back as he gurgled on his own blood, eventually flopping down onto the dirt ground. The rest of the group of men stared at their dying friend.

John and Arthur watched as the events unfolded, hands pressed to their revolvers just in case things were going to get messy.

“You’re gonna pay for that bitch!” Another man yelled, pulling out a gun from his holster.

However, before he could even wrap his hands around the handle, another loud boom echoed in the air.

The loud gunshot caused everyone to turn to the origin of the noise.

There sat Arthur, revolver in hand, and a thin trail of smoke seeping from the tip of the steel barrel.

“Any of you think of reaching for your guns, I’ll put a bullet in ya.” Arthur said, his voice low in tone and VERY intimidating.

He didn’t have to tell the group of men twice as they quickly scurried away.

Arthur set his revolver back into his holster and hopped off his horse.

When the young woman caught sight of the mass of the brown haired, blue eyed cowboy approaching her, she pointed her now bloody knife toward Arthur.

“Whoa there, ma’am.” Arthur immediately raised his hands up in surrender. “I ain’t gonna hurt ya.”

Heavy pants slipped past the lady’s pink lips as well as a few pained whimpers. She was dreadfully scared but based on her demeanor she was not going to let someone threaten her without a fight.

Though Arthur decided he might press his luck.

“Are you alright, miss?” He asked with some variation of concern but readied himself in case the lady tried to attack him.

She hesitated but eventually shook her head. Arthur looked back to John and he only shrugged.

The cowboy took another step forward. “Are you alone?”

The lady’s eyes darted to the ground, her quivering lips and watery eyes telling Arthur all that he needed to know.

Even though she hadn’t said anything, it was obvious that this poor, fearful woman had been through some kind of trauma.

Arthur’s eyes squinted in sympathy. “I’m sorry.”

The lady looked back up, her expression softening just a bit.

“You’re bleeding…” He pointed to the blood dripping from her temple then again looked back at John to see if maybe he thought there was something wrong. Though, he didn’t seem bothered by it all, in fact, he nodded his head knowing what Arthur was insinuating.

“If you want, you…” Arthur paused. “You could come with us, we’ve got some other women back at our camp that can help you get cleaned up.”

“How-” The woman finally spoke. This perked Arthur’s attention. “How do I know I can trust you?”

“I saved your life. And if I was a threat, you would’a known it by now.”

Arthur could see the gears turning in her head as she thought through her options. Stay to die alone or get some help from a couple of cowboys? She chose the latter.

She slid her bloody knife back into her sheath and nodded. “Okay.”

Arthur gestured towards his horse that was waiting next to John, and the young lady followed behind him. She kept a considerable distance away from the man that saved her just in case he was going to try something.

He stepped up onto his saddle, pulled himself up, and swung his leg to rest on the other side then held out his hand for the lady to take.

She grasped his hand in her own and used her own strength to help Arthur lift her up on his horse. She sat side saddle, her hands resting on Arthur’s broad shoulders. It would be weird if she wrapped her arms around his waist.

Or at least she thought so.

The three individuals made their way back to camp. For the rest of the trip, no one said a word. Instead there was silence except for the occasional animal calls which Y/N made sure to admire as her mind wandered into the abyss.

From this point on, she had no way of knowing what was going to happen to her next.

Either she was actually going to get help from these strangers, get killed, or…

Y/N shook her head. She didn’t want to think of what they were capable of doing to her. Terrible things she imagined. However, even though she didn’t know these people there was this gut feeling, an instinct, telling her that maybe, just maybe they were trustworthy.

After all, this man saved her life. Anyone else would have walked by, without so much as batting an eye but not him. He saw she was in trouble and came to her aid.

Suppose there was still some good left in the world.

Arthur and John approached the edge of camp, their horses trotting towards Charles who was guarding the camp this particular night.

“Arthur. John” Charles greeted.

His eyes then wandered to the young lady seated behind Arthur. She quickly looked away from his intimidating stare. “Who’s that?”

“Someone we picked up coming back to camp.” John answered, still following behind Arthur.

Arthur hitched his horse and hopped off. He turned to Y/N and held out his arms toward her to help her off the back of his horse.

She looked down at his hands, a perplexed expression bent into her features.

Arthur bobbed his hands up and down for a second before saying, “Come on.”

Y/N hesitantly leaned forward and rested her hands on Arthur’s shoulders as he lifted her from the horse and placed her on the ground.

“This way.” Arthur said, leading Y/N towards the center of camp.

Her eyes darted around the makeshift camp, searching for anyone she’d consider friendly. Not many of them looked all that amicable but she did see some woman which she wasn’t sure that relieved her in some way or made her even more skeptical.

Though when members of the group began to form a crowd around her and Arthur, that small relief soon vanished.

“Ah, Arthur.” Dutch greeted him as soon as the stocky cowboy came into his vision. “How’re things in Valentine?”

Arthur scratched at his stubble, “Not so good. Turns out the leads were nothin’ but rumors.”

“We’ll just have to keep looking.” Dutch said and Arthur nodded in agreement.

Just then Dutch caught sight of the young lady timidly standing behind Arthur’s towering figure.

“And who is this young lady?” Dutch said strutting around Arthur to see Y/N more clearly.

Y/N’s (e/c) orbs flashed up to meet Dutch’s gaze and she found herself stepping closer to Arthur.

“This is… uh...well actually, we don’t know her name but we found her on the main road, a few men were becoming little less than friendly.”

Dutch welcomed Y/N with a smile. “Well, miss…” He paused, waiting for her to respond.

Y/N gulped, fiddling with her shaking hands. “L/N. Y/N L/N.”

“Well Miss. L/N, you are welcome to stay here with us for as long as you need.” Dutch then looked over to the girls that had conveniently gathered together. “Miss. Grimshaw. Abigail. Get Miss. L/N cleaned up and a fresh pair of clothes will ya?”

Miss. Grimshaw and Abigail nodded then stepped forward and guided Y/N away from the crowd.

Y/N let them lead her away but not before she turned her head to look over her shoulder to Arthur, getting one last glance at his blue eyes as she walked further away.

For some reason, she felt she would rather not leave him but did anyhow.

“Come this way, honey.” Miss. Grimshaw said, pulling Y/N towards Abigail’s tent.

They stepped inside the tent along with Mary-Beth and Tilly following suit.

Miss. Grimshaw turned to Mary-Beth, “Go get some water and clean rag.” She ordered.

Mary-Beth nodded and headed out of the tent.

Miss. Grimshaw turned her attention back to the young (h/c) standing patiently in the middle of the large tent. “Let’s get you out of those dirty clothes.” She reached out to help her but Y/N instinctively flinched away, startling everyone remaining in the tent.

They all stood with their eyes on Y/N’s stiff form. She seemed as if she were prepared for someone to attack her.

Abigail stepped just a tad bit closer. “It’s okay. We ain’t gonna hurt ya. We just want to help.” The burnette reassured.

Y/N’s eyes darted from Abigail, to Miss. Grimshaw, to Tilly then back to Abigail again.

After a minute or two of waiting, the three women could visibly see the (h/c)’s body relax as she rested her arms at her sides.

“Abigail, get Miss. L/N some clean clothes. Looks like she’s ‘bout your size.” She said and Abigail agreed, walking over to a corner in the tent and beginning to rummage through her clothes to find something decent for the young (h/c) to wear.

Mary-Beth then walked in with a cool bowl of water, and a clean rag sticking out from the edge of the metal. She stood next to Grimshaw, a soft expression on her face as she made eye contact with Y/N.

Grimshaw grabbed the rag from the metal bowl and rang out the extra water the rag had soaked up over the course of the time it sat in the bowl.

When it was damp enough to her liking, she stepped toward Y/N and very gently placed one hand under Y/N’s chin to keep her head still while she wiped away the dried blood that lay against her temple.

Even though Grimshaw was usually a hard ass, she handled the scared woman with care, almost as if she were made of glass. Fragile to the touch. Which surprisingly comforted Y/N, they were much kinder than originally anticipated.

Once the blood was wiped clean, Grimshaw tossed the now blood covered rag back into the metal bowl. “Alright. You’re all good. Just get changed into some fresh clothes and bring these ones out. We’ll make sure to wash’em for ya.” Grimshaw said, gesturing to her dirt covered skirt and shirt.

Abigail walked back over, neatly folded clothing in her hands. “Here ya go.”

Y/N cautiously extended her arms to take the clothes from Abigail. “T-thank you.” she mumbled scarcely, her lips pressing into a tight line.

She wasn’t sure what to make of what was happening.

Most people weren’t so kind, and selfless. Not that she didn’t appreciate what they were doing for her because she did very much so, but why go out of their way just to help some stranger that, for all they know, could be a threat?

Guess they were willing to take that chance.

“Go on, get changed. We’ll give ya some privacy.” Grimshaw stated hurriedly gesturing for the rest of the girls to exit said tent, leaving Y/N alone with her thoughts.

It was a good few minutes before Y/N even thought about moving and proceeding with swapping out her clothes.

The older lady was right, she was the same size as the burnette.

There was no mirror around to check out her appearance so she just had to hope that she didn’t look too ridiculous, not that it really mattered.

She approached the edge of the tent. Her nerves getting the better of her.

What would happen once she stepped out of the confines of the tent. Nothing? Her worst nightmare?

Arthur’s words rang through her head. “If I was a threat, you would’a known it by now.”

If these people went as far as to clean her, bring her clothes, and overall help her then maybe they could be trusted.

Y/N closed her eyes. “Breathe in. Hold it. Breathe out” She took a deep breathe then let it out in an attempt to calm her nerves.

When she stepped away from the makeshift home, Y/N immediately saw that a few men had grouped together and were discussing amongst themselves.

It was hard to tell what they were saying at first but in curiosity, she stepped closer and was able to make out what they were saying.

“We’ve got to let the girl go.” Micah said.

“We can’t just throw her out.” John intervened, annoyance palpable in his voice.

“She’s a stranger. And a threat to all of us.” Micah continued.

Arthur scoffed. “Didn’t realize you were so concerned for the rest of us.”

“I’m only thinking about the group.” Micah defended, his tone hiding some ulterior motive.

A pang of sadness rushed through Y/N as she listened in on what they were saying.

Micah continued. “I say we send the girl on her way.”

“No. I think we should let her stay with us and if she wants to leave then-” Dutch stopped when he caught sight of Y/N who was standing a few feet away.

The other men followed Dutch’s gaze, seeing that the damsel in distress had been standing right there, most likely listening in on what they were discussing.

Y/N’s expression told them all they needed to know. Her brows furrowed inward, not in anger but in sadness. Her (e/c) eyes held a thousand words, and her slightly parted mouth emphasized how she felt.

“I-”

“There you are, honey. Let me take those-” Miss. Grimshaw interrupted, causing Y/N to look at her then she took a hold of Y/N’s dirty clothes. “And let’s go find you somewhere to sleep.” She continued, and quickly guided Y/N away from the men.

As Miss. Grimshaw led Y/N away from the group of men, she caught a glimpse of that saddened expression making a home into Y/N’s features.

“Oh honey, don’t you worry ‘bout Mr.Bell. He says a lot of things but he’s all talk.”

“But he’s right; I am a stranger.” Y/N objected earnestly.

Miss. Grimshaw quickly pulled Y/N over toward a propped up tent. “Listen to me; you might be a stranger but don’t mean you ain’t decent.”

Her answer surprised the young (h/c).

The elderly woman continued. “You needed help, and we took upon ourselves to help you. Now don’t go worrying about things that ain’t gonna happen.”

Miss Grimshaw turned away grabbing an extra blanket from the back of one of the wagons then turned back and plopped it into Y/N’s arms.

“Now you’re gonna sleep right next to Mary-Beth.” The older woman spoke as she led Y/N over to a pitched tent in the center of camp.

Y/N assumed that Mary-Beth was the one already standing under the tarp that was the roof of the tent.

As soon as Grimshaw was near Mary-Beth, she started to rapidly swat her waves toward her signifying she wanted her to move over.

“Scooch over! We need to make room for Ms. L/N.”

The brunette quickly grabbed the edge of her sleeping bag and scooted over just a few inches.

“There you go, honey.” Miss Grimshaw said, looking to the (h/c).

Y/N perked up and slowly walked over to the now vacant spot and stood there for a second.

Miss Grimshaw continued. “Now lie down, get some rest, and I’m sure things will look better in the morning.” And just like that she walked away and out of sight.

The young female merely stood frozen in her spot, letting the events from the day sink in. Before she could protest, hot tears fell from the base of her eyes and rolled down her cheeks.

Mary-Beth could notice the change in aura around this young lady, and lightly rested her hand on her shoulder. “Are you alright?”

A sniffle was heard causing a wave of sympathy to rush over Mary-Beth. She stepped out from behind the young woman to see her face. The tears were the first thing she saw even in the black ridden night.

“Here.” Mary-Beth dug into the pocket sewn into the front of her dress and pulled out a sparkling, clean, white handkerchief.  

Y/N gently took the handkerchief out of Mary-Beth’s hand and used it to wipe the continuous tears. “I’m sorry…” She whimpered her voice cracking in the midst of her apology.

Mary-Beth managed a light hearted smile. “Sorry for what? For crying? You got nothing to be sorry for. It’s alright to cry when you’re hurting.” Mary-Beth paused. “I know we don’t know you very well and we don’t know what you’ve been through, but it’s gonna be okay. You’ll be safe with us.”

Y/N looked up at Mary-Beth and saw the genuinity in her eyes.

She wiped her eyes once more before handing the handkerchief back with a nod following soon after. “Okay…”

The brunette flashed a smile again as she took her handkerchief and stowed back it into her pocket.

Y/N turned around and backed away from her designated spot to roll out her sleeping bag. Right now, more than anything, she just wanted to get to bed, though she wasn’t sure that she would be able to sleep. Not when she was in a strange place with strange people, but she could at least try.

She laid down to cover herself up with the thin fabric to hopefully fall into a peaceful slumber.

Despite the trauma, Y/N allowed her thoughts to linger on those of her fallen friends.

They were good, and hard working people trying to make an honest living.

Trying to survive. Same as her. They didn’t deserve being shot down by a bunch of two bit thugs who cared about nothing but their own desires.

Though, that was the world they lived in. Life and death go hand and hand and sometimes it was just a person’s time to go even if it was in a brutal fashion or even if it was unfair.

Most times it was.

______

Series Masterlist

[fanfictionaries]

Better Than the Movies Pt. 2

Pairing: Bucky Barnes X female reader

Summary: After Bucky essentially rocks your world, he decides that the best way to continue your introduction into the world of seduction is by making you wait. WAIT. When you finally decide that you just can’t take it anymore, you decide to give Bucky a bit of his own medicine only for it to backfire in the most amazing way.  

Words: 5k

Warnings: Swearing, smut, NSFW/18+ only

Author’s Note: This is the longest, smuttiest thing I have ever written. I really hope you guys enjoy it! Let me know what you think!

***

It had been a full week since your encounter on the couch. A long, grueling, entirely frustrating week and it was all James Buchanan Barnes’ fault. You shouldn’t have been surprised honestly, after his long speech about passion, it would make sense that he had decided to torture you. Boy did he know torture. After your little tryst in the compound’s living room, he had stopped you from going any further. In the moment, you had wanted nothing more than to rip every last stitch of clothing from the god-like man, but he had other things in mind. He had decided to make you wait. WAIT. If he hadn’t absolutely rocked your world the first time, you would have washed your hands of him by now, but alas he had and so here you were going absolutely mad.

Of course, the week of waiting wouldn’t have been so bad if he hadn’t spent the whole time teasing you. Slowly. Methodically.

It had started lightly. A brush of the hand here. A palm to your lower back as he passed you in the hallway and the kitchen. A touch of his knee to yours as he sat next to you on the couch and at the dining room table.

Then it progressed.

A gentle tug of your hair at the nape of your neck when no one was looking. A whispered “You’re so fucking sexy” during your mission briefs. A casual quip of “Your ass is driving me crazy” as you dipped low into a squat in the gym.

And then to top it all off, there were the texts.

The man had never texted you before now. You were halfway convinced that he didn’t even know how. Apparently, you were very wrong. Early morning, late at night, middle of the day. It didn’t matter. Your phone was constantly buzzing, each message dirtier and raunchier than the last. The man grew up in the 40s, where on earth did, he learn how to talk like that? Did people secretly talk like this back then? You had certainly never been spoken to like this.

Your phone buzzed in your pocket as you walked swiftly down the hall. You had just come out of a meeting with Fury about some upcoming missions and were headed towards your room to change before a training session with Natasha.

Bucky:

Can’t stop thinkin’ about that hot little body of yours baby doll.

You felt your cheeks warm and shook your head at the pet name he had decided was yours, before entering your room.  

Buzz.

Bucky:

I bet your little pussy is just soaked for me. Isn’t it?

That was it. He couldn’t keep doing this to you! If he was going to continue teasing you all the while refusing to touch you, you were going to give him a dose of his own medicine. Marching into the bathroom, you quickly stripped down to your bra and panties. Taking a moment to fuss with your hair and makeup, you opened the camera on your phone and snapped a few pictures in the full-length mirror. After assessing the array of pictures, you finally decided on the most risqué of the lot. You were on your knees on the bathroom rug, length spread apart and hip cocked to the side. Your (Y/E/C) eyes stared sultrily into the camera as you bit firmly onto your lower lip. Your hair, falling slightly over your face and pushed over one shoulder, revealed the slipping bra strap on the other. The mix of black lace and white cotton that made up your lingerie set, gave you a nice combination of sexy and innocent that you hoped would drive Bucky absolutely crazy. However, it wouldn’t drive him nearly as crazy as the most important aspect of the picture – your left hand dipping into your panties just so.

With a smirk, you hit send and put your phone down, dressing quickly for the training session you were now late for. When you’d managed to make it all the way down to the gym without hearing anything back, you felt a sense of pride fill your chest. That certainly managed to shut him up.

“Took you long enough!” Natasha called from across the gym.

“Sorry! My meeting with Fury ran late and then I had something I needed to take care of really quick,” you apologized, setting your things down on a nearby bench.

“You know this means I’m going to have to take it hard on you today,” said Natasha, crossing her arms.

You laughed, “You were planning on going easy on me?”

“Well…no. But now, it’s double time. I want to see you sweat!” Natasha clapped her hands, and you got into gear, beginning the first part of your training circuit.

An hour later, your head was locked between Nat’s thighs, face pink and fighting for breath. Reluctantly you hit your hand twice on one of her thighs, tapping out.

“Damnit!” you exclaimed, sitting up as Natasha released her hold on you, swiftly standing to her feet to go again.

“Don’t beat yourself up too bad (Y/N),” said Nat, “You’re actually doing really well.”

“Sure doesn’t feel like it when you’re kicking my ass every time.”

“Well that’s not your fault. I’m just better than you.”

You looked up at the red head with contempt, making her chuckle and raise an eyebrow at you.

“Come on (Y/N). Get your ass up and let’s go again. I’m getting a little tired, so maybe if you take some of that sexual frustration out on me, you’ll win.”

Your blood ran cold at the comment. No one knew about you and Bucky, “What sexual frustration?”

“Well you haven’t been on another date since you got stood up last week, so I’m assuming you haven’t found anyone to rock your world like some hunky movie star,” Natasha quipped.

“Hey, (Y/N),” you heard the voice of Sam call from across the room, “your phone is buzzing like crazy over here! Who is texting you this much?”

You looked over at him in confusion and then horror as you watched Sam reach down and pick up your phone from its spot on the bench, “Wait! Sam don’t!” you called, standing quickly. But it was too late.

“Whoa!” Sam yelled, dropping your phone in surprise, “Penis! That was a penis on your screen (Y/N)!”

You groaned and started to run towards your phone before anyone else could look at it, but it was all in vain. Nat was across the room, with your phone in hand before you had even made it halfway.

“Well done (Y/N). Apparently, you have found yourself a man,” said Nat scrolling through the messages, “and he’s hung like a horse and has quite the imagination.”

“Nasty. You are nasty (Y/N). You too Natasha,” said Sam, shaking his head and the both of you.

You finally reached Nat’s side and attempted to pull the phone from her hands but she was too quick, “How do you know the password to my phone Nat?”

“I know everyone’s password,” she responded casually.

“Wait, what?” said Sam, turning to her.

“Not important right now Sam,” said Nat, “What is important is who this mystery dick belongs to.”

“Nat, please don’t,” you tried once more to grab your phone as dread filled you.

“Oh. My. God.”

“Nat.”

“Bucky?!”

“Hold on,” said Sam attempting to look at the phone in Natasha’s hand now, “Did you just say Bucky? Robocop? Metal man? No, that can’t be. It’s bigger than my—”

“Enough!” you exclaimed, finally snatching the phone away and grabbing the rest of your things, “I have to go.” You ran from the room as fast as you could, the faint sound of Natasha telling you to have fun and Sam’s outrage disappearing as you distanced yourself. You entered the closest bathroom you could find and locked yourself in a stall to catch your breath before opening your phone.

Sure enough, there in all its glory was Bucky’s member standing proud. And proud it should be. If the length alone didn’t intimidate you, then the girth certainly did. He was easily thicker than your wrist, prominent veins running down the sides from the base to the thick tip. Fuck, the head alone looked like it would barely fit inside you.

Tearing your eyes away from the picture, you saw the string of messages that followed it.

Bucky:

Okay baby doll, you wanna’ play?

Bucky:

You want this cock?

Bucky:

Come and get it.

Bucky:

My room. Thirty minutes.

Bucky:

I want you naked in the middle of my bed on your knees by the time I get there. Friday will let you in.

Holy shit. It was happening. It was happening and…you only had 20 minutes left. Fuck. You all but sprinted from the bathroom and towards your room. Like lightning you threw off your clothes and stepped into the shower, not even waiting for the water to warm up as you washed away the sweat and grime from your workout. Once you were freshened up enough, you threw on a fluffy robe, not bothering with real clothes as Bucky’s room was only two doors down from yours. Like Bucky said, the door opened for you when you tried the handle and then you were there. You were in Bucky’s room. The faint sound of a shower running told you exactly where he was. For a second you contemplated joining him, but then you remembered his instructions. You shivered, crisp air brushing your skin as you took off your robe and walked towards the large bed. It wasn’t until you were on your knees in the middle of the bed, that you fully grasped the situation you were in. You were really going to sleep with Bucky. Your best friend. The man that had been the center of all your thoughts and dreams for the past week. The man that had already brought you more pleasure than you had ever experienced before. You closed your eyes and took a few deep, calming breaths.

“Now that is quite the sight,” the deep timbre of Bucky’s voice sent electricity coursing through your body and you opened your eyes to see him standing near the bathroom door. You watched as he sauntered into the door, slowly and casually, with nothing but a white towel wrapped around his waist. Small rivulets of water traveled down his sculpted chest, some catching in the patch of dark brown hair that speckled his chest and others traveling all the way down to his waist where the towel sat. You licked your lips involuntarily, wanting so desperately to lick those drops of water up.

“Like what you see?” asked Bucky, catching your eye and bringing you out of your thoughts, “I certainly like what I see.” He approached you like a wolf stalks its prey. Predatory. Powerful. Frightening.  You watched as he got closer, extending a hand to ghost over the skin of your ribcage before coming up to cup one of your breasts.

“Look at how turned on you are baby doll. Your nipples are rock hard,” his thumb lifted and grazed the tip of your nipple causing a small whimper to escape your throat. He smirked at your reaction, swiping his thumb again, this time firmer before bringing it between his thumb and forefinger to pinch lightly. You bit your lower lip, attempting to keep your composure instead of melting into a giant puddle of goo so early into the night.

“Now, now,” Bucky released your nipple and reached up to pull the lip from between your teeth. “The only thing I wanna’ see in this pretty little mouth of yours is either my fingers or my cock.”

You gasped, recalling the picture he had sent you earlier and wondering if it would even fit in your mouth. Maybe. Definitely not all the way, but that didn’t stop you from wanting to try.

“Oh, you like that? You wanna’ wrap these pretty pink lips around my cock baby doll?” asked Bucky, gripping your chin and tilting your face up to look him in the eye.

You nodded desperately as you stared into his beautiful blue eyes. If you weren’t careful, you could get lost in those eyes and never come back. He laughed softly, taking a moment to scan your face. He seemed…pleased.

“Maybe next time. Right now, I want to take my sweet time making you cum over and over again. Does that sound okay with you?” Bucky raised his eyebrows, the way he asked the question so casual you would have thought he’d just asked you if pizza was alright for dinner.

“Yes. Please,” your voice was faint and needy, but you didn’t care. You would let this man do anything with your body at this point. Just as long as he actually did something.

“Good girl,” Bucky whispered huskily before leaning down and connecting his lips to yours gently. He took his time seducing your lips with his, coaxing them into a slow and languid dance as he climbed onto the bed as well.

His hands were like fire and ice as they caressed your shivering body. You reached out, finding stability on his bare shoulders. Your right hand traveled over the expanse of cold metal to gently trace where metal met flesh. Bucky gasped into your mouth, his body going rigid. At first you thought you’d done something wrong, overstepped a boundary. But then he was reaching up with the same metal hand and grabbing a fistful of your hair.

“You trying to drive me crazy baby doll?” he asked, pulling your head back.

“Maybe,” you answered coyly, hissing at the delightful mixture of pain and pleasure his hand in your hair was giving you.

“Too late. I’m already gone,” Bucky confessed, his left hand traveling down your sternum, ribcage, stomach, “I haven’t stopped thinking about you all week. It’s like your everywhere. Your eyes. Your pretty little smile. Your breasts. I’ve been hard all week thinking about you. You know how difficult that’s been for me?”

“I have some idea.”

“Let me be the judge of that,” he quipped, his fingers delving into your folds. He let out a low groan when he felt the sheer amount of arousal. “Fuck. You are soaked baby doll.”

“Bucky. Please,” you pleaded. You didn’t have to explain any further. He knew exactly what you needed. His hand began to lovingly caress your folds, spreading your wetness around before inserting a single digit into your tight passage. You both moaned at the sensation, you in pleasure, him in surprise by how tightly you gripped him. He claimed your mouth again as he fingered you, making sure to curve his finger to rub along your front wall. He continued to rub, changing angles and positions as if he were searching for something. You quickly learned exactly what he was searching for when his finger made contact with a spot that made you see stars.

“Yes!” you cried, reaching down to grip his wrist, hoping to god he never stopped.

“That the spot baby doll?” Bucky slowly slid his finger out before adding a second and finding that special spot again, this time making contact with both fingers. You cried out again, gasping at the sheer pleasure of the act. This went on for a little while. Him slowly stroking your walls while he kissed you into oblivion. Then his fingers did something you’d never experienced before. Quickly he pulsed the pads of his fingers against that spot deep inside you, almost in a come-hither motion. The act caused a pressure to begin to form deep in the pit of your stomach and panic started to form in your chest. It was almost as if you had to…

“Bucky. Stop. I—”

“It’s okay doll.”

“No. I need—I think I need—” You were going to pee. You were sure of it.

“Trust me doll. I got you.”

You gripped his shoulders tightly, feeling the pressure build in a sweet yet foreign way. You clenched your abdominal muscles, trying to fight the urge. It was like your body needed a release, but you weren’t about to embarrass yourself by wetting his bed.

“Stop fighting it doll. I can feel you fighting it. Relax. Give into it. I got you,” said Bucky through gritted teeth, his fingers picking up speed, thrusting against your walls at an almost inhuman speed. So fast and rough that you had no choice but to give into him and then, you were lost. The pressure building in your abdomen reached its peak and you were cumming. Cumming harder than you’d ever cum before in your life.

“Fuuuuuck, yes. Yes, baby doll. That’s it,” growled Bucky, trusting his fingers in and out of you as your vision began to go white and then black. Your body went limp, falling backwards only to be caught by Bucky’s left arm. Softly, he lowered you to the bed as his right hand continued to stroke you down from your high.

You came to in time to see Bucky extract his fingers from you and bring his soaked hand up to his face. Wrapping his lips around his fingers, he tasted you on them with a low moan. It was around that time that you became fully conscious of what had just happened. Sitting up in a panic, you looked between your legs to see a large wet stain on the center of the bed.

“Oh my god. I—”

“Squirted. Fuck baby doll. I thought maybe I could get you there eventually tonight, but I barely even had to touch you and you were gushing. That was the sexiest thing I have ever seen. I mean, I haven’t even touched your clit yet. I—” Bucky was rambling as he looked at you in awe, “I have to taste you.”

You let out a yelp of surprise as he pushed you onto your back and dove between your legs. His hands gripped your thighs tightly and you were about to protest about your inability to cum again when his tongue made contact with your clit. You cried out, your hips raising and your hands threading into his long hair. It was…oh my god it was…indescribable the way his tongue flicked and swirled around your swollen bud. You gripped his hair tightly in your hands as you moaned and yelled in ecstasy. It felt inhumanly amazing, but there was no way you could cum a second time, right? You’d never been able to cum more than once before. Wrong. Before you knew it, the familiar coil was beginning to form in the pit of your stomach and your breathing picked up speed.

“You gonna’ cum again already?” asked Bucky, his hot breath on your pussy sending shivers up and down your spine, “I think you are. You have no idea how deliciously sweet this pussy is. Can’t believe I wasted so much time teasing you when I could have been feasting on this tasty little kitty day in and day out.”

You moaned at his filthy words, your hips grinding against his tongue, searching for purpose. Then his lips were around your clit and he was sucking. The suction sent you past the brink and over the edge in seconds as you came for the second time that night. The endorphins coursed through your body. While your first orgasm seemed to suck the life out of you, your second was like touching live wire. Every nerve in your body was alive. You sat up, pulling Bucky away from your center and on top of you. You kissed him feverishly, desperately. Tasting a mixture of yourself and him. You couldn’t get enough as you nipped and licked and sucked his full lips. Reaching down, you pulled the towel from his waist and found what you had been craving this past week. He hissed as your hand wrapped around his hard member, your fingertips not quite meeting around his thick girth. You stroked slowly, up and down.

“I swear to god Bucky, if you aren’t inside of me in the next two seconds, I am going to lose my mind,” you said desperately, your voice gravelly and hoarse.

“Fuck baby doll, okay. Let me grab a condom.”

“I’m clean and I’m on birth control. If you’re clean, then I’d much prefer to feel you.”

“Shit—Fuck—Yea. I mean, yes I’m clean,” Bucky finally said, laying over you fully before lining himself up with your center. He ran the tip of his cock up and down your folds, gathering your wetness before pushing his head past your entrance. You both groaned at the sensation. The sweet sting of the stretch was euphoric as he filled you in a way, you’d never thought possible. It felt like an eternity as he slowly worked himself inside you. It was like he went on forever. Just when you thought there couldn’t possibly be any more of him to fill you, he kept going. When he was fully seated within you, it felt like he took up every square inch inside of your body. It was all encompassing. Overwhelming in the most delicious way. You breathed heavily looking between Bucky’s face and where the two of your joined. The sight alone lightyears beyond pornographic.

“God baby doll, you are so fucking tight,” Bucky panted, his lips parted as he too stared at the place where you connected. Bringing his gaze back up to you, he locked eyes with you. The emotion that you found swirling behind the light blue pools made your heart catch in your chest. He looked at you like you hung the fucking moon. Like you were the most beautiful thing he had ever seen.

“Let me know if I hurt you at all. Okay? I want this to be good for you.”

You stared back, feeling something deep in your gut that felt like…no that was ridiculous. Was it? You’d never felt more beautiful than you did right now, caged within Bucky’s strong arms as his large member pulsed inside of you and he looked at you like he’d give his life for you.

“Okay. I will,” you responded, only able to find the few simple words in the swirl of everything you wanted to say to him. But you liked to imagine that he could hear the weight of everything you hadn’t said hanging in the air.

“Okay.”

Bucky lowered his head to kiss you, delicately and lovingly as he withdrew until only his head remained seated inside of you. Then, firmly, he thrust back into you. The sensation of his bare cock inside your pussy, stretching you, caressing your walls was almost more than you could handle. His thrust began to pick up speed. The sweet push and pull combined with the sound of skin on skin filled your senses. Everything was pleasure and euphoria and Bucky. So much Bucky. Inside of you. Around you. On your skin. In your mind.

It wasn’t long before his hips were swirling and dipping in faster and erratic patterns. Your hands clung to his back, nails digging in deep as you felt the pressure and coil begin to build and tighten in your core for the third time that night. Impossible, you thought. Your mouth was everywhere, kissing his lips, his jaw, his neck. You sucked and nipped the delicate skin, absolutely positive that he’d be covered in dark, purple bruises by the next day. Switching his weight over to his left arm, he reached down and started to circle your sensitive clit.

“I need you to cum again baby doll,” he said, his voice husky and needy.

“I can’t.”

“Yes, you can. Now be a good girl and cum all over my cock baby. I know you want to. I’m so close baby. I wanna’ feel you cum all over my big hard cock as I cum inside you. You want that baby? You want me to cum inside you?”

The combination of his voice, his words, and his fingers on your clit was the tipping point for you. You came, pulsing around Bucky as your body convulsed in pleasure. Your hips moving on their own accord. You chanted his name over and over like a prayer, wanting the feeling to go on forever. In the midst of your ecstasy, your heard Bucky growl out your name as he pumped into you harshly, his warm seed filling your channel.

You both laid there, breathing heavily as you came down from your highs. In the moment, you couldn’t help but let a little giggle slip past your lips. Giddy with pleasure. You were literally giddy with pleasure. After a moment, Bucky followed, laughing softly with you as you looked at each other. He placed a peck to your lips before sitting up and pulling out of you. You gasped at the sensation, surprised by just how empty you felt without him inside of you. Watching Bucky stand from the bed, a skip in his step as he disappeared into the bathroom, you contemplated all that had just happened. However, the only thing you could come up with was the fact that you were happy and incredibly satisfied. Bucky returned a few seconds later with a wet washcloth. He took the cloth and reached between your thighs, cleaning you gently as you exchanged shy smiles. The intimate act was so sweet and caring, it made your heart clench once again. Once he was finished, he tossed the cloth aside and laid down beside you, pulling you into his arms and kissing the top of your head. You lay there in comfortable silence until you finally spoke up.

“So, I take it you liked the picture I sent you?”

Bucky laughed, “I think that’s an understatement. Although I’d have to assume that you also liked the picture, I sent you.”

“I think that’s an understatement,” you repeated his words back to him cheekily, and then you remembered, “Ummm, speaking of pictures. There’s something I have to tell you.”

“What baby doll?” Bucky asked sleepily, pulling you in even tighter.

“Well, someone may have gotten to my phone before I could and they may have seen the picture,” you cringed as you waited for his response. It was silent for a moment before he responded.

“And who might this someone be?”

“Nat.”

“Okay, that’s not too bad.”

“And, Sam.”

“What?!” Bucky sat up a little to look down at you, his eyes wide.

“If it makes you feel he was really jealous when he found out it was yours. Apparently, you’re bigger,” you scrambled, hoping he wasn’t too mad. Bucky stared at you for a moment before bursting out into laughter once again. He laid back down, his chest shaking as he continued to chuckle to himself.

“You’re not mad?”

“Nah baby doll. I couldn’t possibly be mad at you after that,” said Bucky kissing the top of your head again, “Now let’s get some sleep. You’ll need to recharge, because when you wake up, we’re going again and this time I’m not going easy on you.”

“That was easy?!”

“Hey, you were the one that said I was better than the movies.”

Taglist:

@ladifreakingda

[29-pieces]

Whumptober day 24 - The Musketeers

Day 24: Blindfolded Fandom/Setting - BBC’s The Musketeers, early S1 before d’Artagnan is commissioned Read on AO3 Read on FF.net

~*~

"Filthy cowards!" d'Artagnan raged, squirming with all his might in an attempt to get back up on his feet. The thick rope that had been wound around his middle kept his arms trapped down at his sides, preventing him from drawing a weapon or throwing any punches. It also made it harder to keep his balance. Between that disadvantage and the blindfold wrapped over his eyes to keep him from seeing which direction the next attack would be coming from, d'Artagnan had no opportunity to defend himself.

The red guards who had waylaid him all seemed to find this terribly entertaining. Their jeers and taunts circled the unfortunate recruit, as did a heavy kick every time he tried to clamber back up.

D'Artagnan gasped as another blow came out of nowhere, driving the wind from his body and leaving him to double up and wheeze for precious oxygen. The insults levied at him fell on deaf ears. As soon as he got free of this, he thought with fury, he was going to beat each and every one of them into the ground, single-handedly.

"Shouldn't have thrown in your lot with that Musketeer rubbish," one of the guards snickered. The statement was followed by a hand fisting in his hair, pulling him halfway up off the ground. "Everyone knows they're sorry excuses for soldiers."

D'Artagnan felt blood dripping from his nose over his lip as he bared his teeth and snarled blindly back, "One of them is worth ten of you!"

His loyal declaration was paid for with a punch to the cheek. What was one more bruise to add to the myriad he was rapidly accumulating? Reckless and outraged, the Gascon added, "None of you would dare face one of them one on one! You aren't fit to even speak of them!"

More blows rained down on him and he couldn't see to brace himself. Pure stubbornness (and the fact that they probably couldn't hear him anyway over the shouting and jeering) was all that kept him from any audible sounds of pain. For crying out loud, he wasn't even a musketeer! ...Yet! But when he was, oh, he would make them pay for this...

"One of 'em is worth ten of us, didya hear that, lads?" one of them asked with a loud guffaw. "Well, there are ten of us, aren't there? An' one of you. Which means... you might want to recalculate that, little pig farmer."

"You'd think all his time wrestling pigs would have made him better at this," another hooted.

D'Artagnan's blood surged hot at the insult, and he snapped back, "You're saying you're no better than pigs, then?"

A beat of silence followed; he could just imagine their collective brains trying to work through the statement, which eventually one of them did. An angry shout preceded more kicks and punches that d'Artagnan couldn't evade, try as he might to anticipate the next shot. Surely they would tire of this soon, he thought frantically. Despite the Red Guards' ongoing rivalry with the Musketeers, they couldn't actually kill him... could they?

"Wait, I know what'll make him squeal," one of the men suddenly called. "Where's Bruno?"

D'Artagnan had no idea who Bruno was, but the excited agreement from the others left him with no doubt he wasn't going to enjoy finding out. Multiple pairs of hands grabbed him by the arms, hauling him up to his feet and dragging the blindfolded recruit along. He struggled and shouted, doing his best to wriggle free of the rope around his middle, but they held him firm. Somewhere nearby, he heard a gate or door being opened, then he was pushed forward. Tripping on the cobblestone, d'Artagnan ended up sprawled on the ground again, only to freeze at the sound of throaty, furious barking.

"Shit," he hissed under his breath, trying to scramble back from the newest threat, knowing that he had no chance at fighting off a dog without the use of his hands. "Bastards!"

"Bruno, you hungry?" one of the guards closest to him asked. Footsteps retreated, leaving d'Artagnan alone.

Bruno, and he sounded huge, started barking and snarling even louder, sounding desperate to get at d'Artagnan's throat.

Heart pounding in his chest, d'Artagnan said his mental goodbyes to anyone who had ever known him.

"Get 'im, Bruno!"

D'Artagnan felt something huge barreling forward, heard the sound of heavy paws and enraged growling; he curled up to make as small a target as possible and finally gasped in fear.

Having finally achieved the reaction they'd been hoping for, the red guards dissolved into laughter.

.o.O.o.

Athos wasn't sure what he'd been expecting. Since d'Artagnan's first, rather memorable moment barging into their lives, he'd proven himself something of a magnet for trouble. Athos recognized it; he had two other brothers who were just as bad. What he was not expecting was for the Red Guard to have gotten themselves involved with the newest recruit.

Though, he was quite sure it would have taken nothing more than a snide comment about the musketeers in general, or one of the three Inseparables in particular, and d'Artagnan would have been trying to duel the entire complement of Red Guard. Athos shook his head in spite of the silent affection. Loyalty was commendable. Perhaps once they taught him to temper it somewhat...

In any case, even Athos had not been expecting a full squad of red guards to have waylaid the boy. Cowardice was one thing, but surely this was beneath even them. Coolly, the swordsman drew a pistol and fired it into the air. It worked to make all of the guards duck and spin around in fright, though it had also made d'Artagnan flinch violently from his spot on the ground. Not what he'd been going for.

"Restrain that brute," he ordered calmly, nodding to the dog they'd been using to taunt d'Artagnan. The beast was still wearing a collar and lead; he suspected they hadn't been planning to actually let the animal attack d'Artagnan, only wanting to get a frightened reaction from him.

"Athos?" d'Artagnan asked shakily. "Is that you?"

"Mm," Athos assented, directing his coldest glare at the Red Guard lieutenant, the one who should have been above this childish game. "Porthos."

"You lot," Porthos growled in disdain, dismounting from his horse and storming over towards d'Artagnan with his dagger in hand. The red guards scurried to get out of his way. "Pathetic, that's what you all are."

"The next time you get bored, we'd thank you to find your entertainment elsewhere," Aramis added flippantly, his own pistol idly resting on his leg but pointed right at their attack dog in case any of them had the bright idea to loose the beast after all. "And leave our recruits alone."

Athos watched as Porthos cut d'Artagnan free and pulled the blindfold away. The lad was quick to jump to his feet, and he was a mess of bruises, but Athos was pleased to see he appeared only furious and not scared. Good. It wouldn't do to let the bullies know they'd obviously gotten to him. He was also glad to see Porthos merely offering d'Artagnan a hand back up without fussing over him too much, none of them wanting to give the guards the impression that d'Artagnan needed coddling or protection. Lifting his chin, Athos turned his attention back to the lieutenant.

"Although," he went on. "If you're so anxious to prove yourselves against a musketeer, any one of you may challenge me. Right here. Right now. Any takers?"

His eyes slid from one to the next, daring each and every one of them to try their luck against a musketeer who was ready and able to fight back. To nobody's surprise, each of the guards looked away as his eyes settled on them. By now, Porthos was back on his horse and given d'Artagnan a lift up behind him. Athos nodded in satisfaction and glowered around once more, just to make sure the message had sunk in.

"The captain will hear of this," he growled, before wheeling his horse around and charging out of the Red Guards' courtyard.

He led the way back to the Musketeer garrison at the same clipped pace, but immediately swung down from his horse to grab d'Artagnan as soon as he dismounted from behind Porthos. Without a word, he took the lad's chin in his hand, turning his face this way and that to see what damage had been done.

"'M alright," d'Artagnan assured him, wincing and bruised, but as fierce as ever. "Next time I see one of their sniveling faces, I'm going to-"

"Whoa there," Aramis chuckled. He stepped over to the recruit, draping a casual arm around his shoulders. From his unconcerned grin, only one of his close friends would realize he was getting in place to grab d'Artagnan if he collapsed. "Don't get me wrong, I do love the idea of those tontos getting what they richly deserve."

"An' the captain would feel the same," Porthos said with a smirk, only barely masking the vengeful ire Athos knew he felt at their recruit being picked on. "But then he'd have to reprimand us..."

"And then you're mucking stables..."

"And most importantly, there's no sense giving the Cardinal reason to convince the King not to give you the commission you deserve," Athos finished for them. From his assessment, the lad had come to no real harm, nothing worse than some bad bruises and injured pride. "Now go see Serge. We had him save some supper for you when you weren't back in time."

Clearly still raring for a fight and unsatisfied at the lack of vengeance, d'Artagnan nevertheless nodded and headed for the mess. Athos watched him go, rubbing his chin broodingly.

Aramis crossed his arms and smirked. "There's some fire in that one."

"He's gonna make a great musketeer," agreed Porthos. "If he can stay outta trouble long enough."

Yes, Athos mused with a silent nod. Yes, he was quite sure d'Artagnan was headed for greatness. And they would be behind him every step of the way.

[andrewhq]

Oh, would you still offer your embrace (if it's another place you'd find me in?)

tags: War AU, Pirate AU, Witcher AU, GTA V AU, Alternate Universe - Soulmates, Travelling through universes and stuff

AO3 Mirror link

A man in his bunk takes out a picture in his pocket and stares at it. It’s the last picture he took of Thomas, his lover, before being drafted into the military and forced to serve his country. That’s where he is now, fighting for his country.

He took the picture on Christmas night the previous year, 1940. He was arriving late to the party and saw his lover at the window. He took the opportunity to snap a picture of him, then knocked on the window. When his lover looked at him with the warmest smile, and from the outside he mouthed:

“You look dreamy tonight.”

His lover laughed, although he couldn’t hear it, he still cherished every moment of it.

He has something written on the side of the picture:

“Things to love the list

Ø

Øone your eyes forever

Too too 2 many things”

He keeps the written part folded over so the other soldiers can't see when he looks at it every night with the light of a small candle.

They ask who the man in the picture is and "someone important to me who died" because that's easier to explain somehow.

When he comes back home, people keep telling him that his lover actually died, that there was a bombing in the port while he waited for someone whose name he never spoke of. People thought of the man as mad. Every single day waiting for this unknown person. There was no way he would've survived that.

The man never broke down as hard as he did at that moment, he even ran to where the bombing happened, screaming for Thomas in desperation. Even his lover’s father told him there was no use in searching for him any longer

The army man gave up that very night, he just couldn't take it anymore. He would be nothing without his love.

--

On an island, the time unknown, a boy stumbled upon a photo of a man on the ground, a really old looking picture, dated 1940 (he couldn’t remember what year was currently), with a man so beautiful, he almost lost his breath. There's a name on the back that signs the owner of the picture. "Jordan S. Maron."

"Weird." He thought out loud since his name matched the one from the back of the picture. There was something in him telling him to search for this man in the picture. And search he did. Far and wide, high and low, trying to at least find an answer to the whereabouts of this mysterious beautiful man.

A ship came to the island he was stuck on. Jordan didn’t even get a say, he was immediately captured by the pirates and forced to slave away on the ship. For a while, that was how his life was. Sweeping floors, cleaning shit, being pushed around, and yelled at constantly. It wasn’t a pleasant life. He would spend the days working and the nights just staring emptily at the picture of the man.

One night he almost lost the picture. The Captain caught him staring at it and ripped it out of his hands. Jordan never screamed so loud in his life. He couldn’t lose the picture.

He used his chains to choke out the Captain, taking his picture back when the Captain stopped breathing. A few pirates heard the commotion and came to see the scene, their Captain dead at the feet of the slave.

From that day on, Jordan became a Captain himself. The Captain of the ship that captured him and made him a slave. It was pirate law or something. He wasn’t the most ruthless pirate in the world, but his devotion to balance scared the rest of the pirates. There was no messing with the Captain if you messed with the balance.

For a while, the ship travelled aimlessly, Jordan refusing to tell his crew where they were going. The truth was that he didn’t know himself where he was going. Just that he needed to find the man in the picture.

He arrived on an island one day. He saw smoke coming from it and went to see what was happening. The forest was on fire, a volcano erupted. He saw someone on the shore, so he got down to the island to see if it could be a potential survivor.

His breath got caught in his throat as he saw the man in the picture laying on the beach of the island. He ran to him as fast as he could, falling to his knees to check his pulse, to check any signs of life. But he could feel nothing. Nothing at all. His purpose, his reason for living, was dead in his arms.

He put heavy rocks in both of their pockets and pouches, then picked up the man, and started heading into the waves and slowly sinking with them.

--

As he was riding on a horse, a piece of paper flew into a man’s face, making him stop in his tracks. It was a really detailed small painting of a man, man so beautiful, he almost lost his breath. There's a name on the back that signs the owner of the picture. "Jordan S. Maron."

"Weird." He thought out loud since his name matched the one from the back of the picture. There was something in him telling him to search for this man in the picture. So he did. Not like he had anything better to do. He was a Witcher, constantly on the run, not belonging to anywhere or anyone. So finding a man from a painting that had his name written on felt right.

He stopped at a tavern in a nearby town and showed off the painting to people. Most did not recognize the man at all. Jordan huffed. Well, this would be harder than he expected.

He traveled to a different kingdom eventually, showing off the picture at every stop.

Eventually, someone recognized him.

“He’s the Prince, Witcher. Better get rid of the picture before someone tells on you that you have some painting of him. It’s not gonna bide well for you.” A drunken man told him after he downed his fifth mead of the night.

Jordan was quiet as he put the painting back in his pouch.

“What is the Prince’s name?” He asked.

“You should know. It’s Thomas.”

Thomas, huh?

He left the tavern late in the night and went to the castle. He didn’t want to enter, he just wanted to see him, just to confirm that the Prince was really who he was looking for.

Before he could get close to the castle, a hooded figure ran into him.

“Whoa, I am so deeply sorry! I did not mean to bust into you like that!” The hooded figure said. The voice felt so familiar, yet he couldn’t quite put his finger on it.

Jordan lifted his candle to see the man better. When he did, he saw that the hood fell off the man’s head. That was when he realized. That was Thomas . That was the man he was looking for.

“You’re… the prince? What are you doing out here so late?” Jordan asked.

“You’re a witcher, what are you doing near the castle?” The Prince immediately snarked back. Jordan couldn’t help but laugh.

Thomas crossed his arms together and puffed his chest. God, he was so adorable.

His thoughts were cut off when he heard shouts from nearby. When he went to warn the Prince, he saw a sword pushed through his chest and Jordan’s eyes went wide. Masked men stared right at the Witcher. He could see the one that had his sword in the Prince smirking at him as he pulled his sword out.

Jordan was raging. He chased after the masked men as far as he could but eventually lost them. He went back to where the Prince died and dropped to his knees. He wanted to cry, to scream, but did none of those.

When the guards came in, they accused Jordan of murdering the Prince. He didn’t even argue with them. He felt like he did anyway.

The Witcher was executed the following day for the murder of Prince Thomas of Cassell.

--

As he was running on the streets of Los Santos, a man tripped and stumbled upon a photo of a man on the ground, a really old looking picture, dated 1940, with a man so beautiful, he almost lost his breath. There's a name on the back that signs the owner of the picture. "Jordan S. Maron."

"Weird." He thought out loud since his name matched the one from the back of the picture. There was something in him telling him to search for this man in the picture. But right then he was busy running away. The police were after him after all. He pocketed the picture and took off once again.

He hid between the large brushes of a car wash and waited until the police passed, making sure no camera was following him (luckily for him, that car wash had only one CCTV near the front of its store and none at the car wash itself). From between the brushes, he managed to take off his mask, change his clothes, and put the cash into a backpack, different from the bag he was carrying.

“You motherfucker, you made it!” he heard a voice coming through his earpiece. Jordan couldn’t help but grin smugly. The voice belonged to Declan, one of his crewmates. “I mean it should’ve been obvious, cuz you’re the boss. Still in awe of it every time.”

Jordan shook his head as he looked for the bus station to find his way back to the HQ.

“It’s not that big of a deal,” Jordan said, even though it was that big of a deal. “We’ve been doing this for years, haven’t we?”

“You got a point, boss.” Declan agreed.

On the bus to the HQ, Jordan couldn’t stop staring at the picture. The man felt familiar, yet he had no idea who he was.

Weeks passed, Jordan didn’t forget about the picture, but he was a little too busy with his crew to be able to constantly search for a man who could probably be dead by now. He looked at the picture again as he sat on the rooftop of a building with his sniper rifle resting just barely over the edge. He sighed. Why was he so obsessed with finding this man?

Well, that could wait, he had a job to finish. He looked through the sniper rifle and tried to find his target. The sight of blue hair caught his attention. When he finally focused on the person, it was… the man in the picture. He held his breath as he watched him, happily chatting away with some people. He also spotted his target, chatting with the man. Through the bug planted in the room, he could hear their conversation. They mostly talked about business, selling and renting houses, the state of real estate, stuff that Jordan didn’t really care about. He then finally heard it.

Tom .

That was the man’s name. Tom. Thomas. That name felt so familiar. He tried to listen further, maybe he could hear his last name. When it sounded like the target was about to say his full name, Dec came through his earpiece and completely cut the audio from the room.

“What are you doing, Cap? You have a perfect shot!”

Jordan groaned. He lined up his shot again, moving it away from the man with blue hair, and focused it on the target. Then he shot. Straight in the head. Before the target even dropped down on the floor, Jordan picked up his grappling hook and shot it to the other building, sliding on the wire to the other side and breaking through the window. The rest of his crew also came in, guns out. More people came in, shots started being fired everywhere. Jordan went straight for the blue-haired man who looked scared and confused.

“Get out of here, Tom!” Jordan yelled and tried to push Tom away into the hallway.

But before he could do so, a member from the other crew shot Tom in the abdomen and he dropped down dead. Jordan had never screamed so loud in his life. He was stunned.

Before Jordan could do anything, he got shot in the chest and dropped down on the ground, his crewmates screaming after him. He didn’t survive, but maybe it was better that way.

Jordan gasped as he woke up, then a nurse immediately told him to calm down. It was one of the crew nurses. He didn’t die.

Before he blacked out again, he asked the nurse “Did he live too?”

He didn’t manage to hear the nurse’s answer as darkness took over once again.

After waking up a couple more times, undergoing some surgery, and weeks of healing passed, Jordan was finally allowed to leave the medical ward of their HQ.

He found Dec first.

“You look much better, boss.” Dec smiled at him.

“Yeah, I guess.” Jordan looked very lost, the memory of Tom being shot in the chest haunting his mind. “Do you know who had been leaving me flowers?”

“Oh, you don’t know?” Dec asked surprised. “Huh, you two didn’t manage to catch each other…”

Jordan narrowed his eyes in confusion. “Who?”

“Tom? The guy with blue hair you jumped in front of a bullet for?”

Tom was alive?! Jordan’s eyes went wide.

“Where is he?” Jordan grabbed Dec by the shoulders and shook him until he answered.

“Jeez, slow down man, he should be somewhere around HQ, I don’t know!”

Jordan immediately took off through the HQ. He needed to find Tom again. He needed to make sure he actually was alive and this wasn’t some sick joke.

“Where are you running, mate?” The British accent was unmistakable. “Aren’t you supposed to re-”

Before Tom could finish his sentence, Jordan went to hug him tightly.

“I’m so happy to see you again, Tom.” He couldn’t help the tears streaming down his face.

Again? , he caught himself saying. When did he meet this man again? As far as he knew this was the first time he’d seen him.

“I missed you too, dummy.” Tom said, a smile on his face, his voice sounding rough from trying to keep himself from crying as well.

Those words felt like warm honey being dripped on his heart. It hurt, even though he couldn’t quite remember. And Tom couldn’t remember either.

But maybe it was better if they never knew the tragedy of their love story.

[aewriting]

Loathly - Chapter 2

Here is the second chapter to my “Sir Gawain and the Dame Ragnell” Malex AU!  I have always wanted to post a story with daily updates, and this one is short and contained enough that I think I’m really going to do it, haha!  Enjoy!

Warnings for homophobia, sexism, ageism.

Read all parts here on AO3, if you prefer.

***

Alex and his brothers, by this point, had been on a crusade for almost a year, and had come to no consensus. Naturally, Jesse had been in a vile mood, even worse than usual. With time running out, he’d ridden with Alex and Flint to the far reaches of the Manes territory – close to the Antarian border, with the thought that the responses of the inhabitants of the border zone might be more aligned with an Antarian way of thinking, since it had been King Noah who had posed the riddle, after all.

Some days, Alex wonders why he is trying so hard.  Why not just let Noah kill his father?  Realistically, though, they were all there that day. All in the Antarian woods, all trespassing, all hunting King Noah’s deer.  No telling that he wouldn’t come for all of them if Jesse didn’t deliver the proper answer.  

Focused as he is on contemplating these questions of mortality, he almost doesn’t notice the woman on the trail. “Whoa,” he eases his horse.

The woman is… distinct. Older, much older even than Jesse, and oddly proportioned, with a mess of wiry grey curls. A fine mount, though, and an even finer cloak of richly dyed wool, woven with precious stones. Not… not an attractive woman, but a stately one, nonetheless.  Her eyes, though… her eyes, Alex could say with certainty, are memorable.  Large, amber-colored, expressive. 

She rides up to Jesse.  “Good day, King Manes,” she calls. Jesse’s eyes narrow, and he looks at her disdainfully. Alex knows his father, knows the way he talks about women, treats them. A woman like this, under normal circumstances, would be totally invisible to him. He seems offended, now, that she is forcing an interaction.  Jesse looks like he is about to say as much when she speaks again.

“Like it or not, but your life is in my hands.”

Jesse’s eyes widen.  “Is that a threat?”

The woman chuckles.  “By the gods, no!”

“Then what did you mean by it?” asks Flint, hand on the hilt of his sword.

“Word has spread about you. Your quest.  You seek answers. Well,” she revises. “You seek an answer. The answer.”

Jesse stares at her.  “Go on.”

Her lips quirk into a half smile. “None of the answers you’ve received to date can help you,” she says, matter-of-fact.  “But I know the true answer, and I am willing to help you.” She pauses.  “On one condition.”

Jesse rolls his eyes, sighs loudly.  

The woman continues unperturbed. “I seek the protection of the Manes kingdom, and the security that can only come with an alliance with a man of the Manes lineage. Give me one of your sons in marriage, and I shall tell you the correct answer to King Noah’s puzzle.”

Jesse recoils.  “Marriage?”

“Aye,” says the old woman. “Those are my conditions.”

“Sentence one of my sons to a life with you?  Woman, have you seen yourself?”

Her eyes narrow. “I have indeed, and that changes nothing of my offer.”  She pauses, looks Jesse up and down.  “Lord Noah does not know that I have this answer that you have been seeking. He has been proclaiming, far and wide, that he has you beat, that he will soon have your head.  He knows that he has given you an impossible task and is assuming your failure.” She smiles wickedly.  “I can’t imagine that you like to lose, King Manes.”

Jesse regards her carefully. “My youngest.  Alex.  He will do, for you.”

Alex is stock still, shocked.

How dare he.

His father… his father knows about him.  Has known for sure since the Jelnos campaign 4 years ago, has suspected for far longer. He hates, hates Alex’s… preferences.  Perversions.  But he knows about them.  And yet…

Alex had always hoped he would escape marriage.  Jesse has four sons – there are three others for ruling kingdoms, making alliances, continuing the royal bloodline.  Alex had always hoped he could simply do… something else.  While he never dreamed of actually being able to live his life openly, authentically, he at least hoped that his father would not force him into some sham political marriage.

But here he is.

He thinks about it, then, really thinks.  Looks at this woman, whose name he does not even know, and in this moment, considers that this… could actually be better.  Better than marrying some child bride from god knows where, being expected to… to bed her, produce children.  God, the thought turns his stomach, leaves him cold and upset.  With this woman… she is too old to bear children, surely. There would not be that pressure. And if he was married to her, to save his father’s life, perhaps his father would ease up in his scrutiny of him, perhaps the rumors about Alex’s proclivities would finally quiet…  

“Show me this ‘Alex’,” says the woman in a commanding tone. Jesse gestures to Alex, and Alex urges his horse forward.

“My lady,” he says, hating how unsteady his voice sounds.

“What say you to this plan, Sir Alex?” the woman asks.  

Alex draws a deep breath. “I am under the command of my lord and king.  It pleases me to carry out his wishes.”

The woman narrows her eyes. Nods. “Very well,” she says.  “He’ll do. Thank you, King Manes.”

Jesse nods.  ‘What is your name, my lady?”

“I am the Lady Guerin.”

“Lady Guerin,” Jesse repeats, his tone cold.  “I do not like being tricked into bargains, so now I ask that you keep up your end of the deal.  Pray tell, what is it that everyone desires most, above all else?”

She holds up a wrinkled hand. “No, no, not until you must present the answer to King Noah.  What’s to stop from killing me, otherwise?” She smiles, slow and cunning.  “A royal son is a limited resource, and I’m sure many a person would love to marry a man handsome as your son.” Jesse scoffs a bit. The woman narrows her eyes.  “A soldier too, no?”

Alex looks down quickly. She has seen his mangled leg, despite his best attempts to conceal it.

“I understand there is one month left,” says the woman.  “I intend to get to know my betrothed.”

***  

They set up camp outside the woman’s house.  They’re guarding her, really, but they try to make it more pleasant than that.  

His brothers are harsh in their judgment of her.  

“I’ve never seen a hag so foul,” Flint mutters late one night as they sit around the campfire.  “Thank the gods father gave her to Alex,” he says to Gregory.  “Can you even imagine the horror of bedding her?”

Gregory grunts a little, pokes at the fire.

Alex sighs, so deeply. “Flint,” he says, voice low.  “She is to be my wife.  I ask that you please keep your thoughts to yourself.” Flint raises an eyebrow at him but stays quiet. “She… she is saving father’s life.  She’s given us food and shelter here.”

It’s been good food, too. Every day, the old woman cooks for them. Even Flint’s been impressed.  The food is rustic, nothing like the delicacies at the palace, but everything is filling and tasty.  Alex helps her, sometimes, supposes he should at least speak to her if they are truly going to be wed. He has been surprised, pleasantly. The woman is wise, with a wicked sense of humor. He’s nearly concerned for her sometimes, with the sharpness of her wit.  She seems savvy though – won’t deploy her cunning too openly around Jesse, and most of it just sails over his brothers’ heads.  She’s modest, too – almost oddly so, Alex thinks.  Every night, at dusk, she bids her leave and retreats to her small cabin, not to be seen until morning.  He has invited her to sit by the fire in the evenings, to share in song and wine, but she has always refused.  Without the evenings to chat, Alex takes advantage of their time together during the day, assisting with the cooking, the laundry.

“Why marriage?” Alex asks one afternoon, as they chop onions on a makeshift table in the clearing.

The woman looks at him with those amber eyes, studies him. Alex feels vulnerable under her scrutiny.

“You could have just asked for protection.  Why did you press for marriage?”

The woman purses her lips, looks down.  “I have had troubles with King Noah of Antar. For my own safety, I needed to be sure your father would honor our bargain.  I wanted him to commit to something that would be difficult to back out of.” She worries her lip slightly with her teeth, and looks at Alex with great uncertainty. The expression seems so out of place.

“I am sorry to have put you in such a position.  I… I know what I am.  What I look like.  You are sacrificing your future, your chances for a real match.  You’re a young, attractive man and – “

Alex places a hand on her bony wrist, interrupts her. “Please, it’s… it’s fine.  Just…” he trails off.  He feels an urge to tell her, about him. To disclose the limitations that a marriage to him would entail. “I cannot give you what other men could.”

She looks at him sharply.  

“I… I assume it is… past your time,” Alex stammers. “For children.” The woman narrows her eyes. “That is… fortunate.  For I fear, I couldn’t…”

The woman nods knowingly. “I do not please you.”  

Alex looks around, drops his voice.  “No woman could please me.  In that way.”

The woman’s head snaps up. She scrutinizes him, as if searching for something.  “Were you… injured, there?  As with your leg?”

Alex’s eyes widen. “No, no… it’s not that.  It’s…” He goes quiet.  What he’s about to say… there are many in Unidos that would see him hung for his desires, or worse. But this woman… in the short time he has known her, she has proven herself open-minded. Clever and worldly in unexpected ways.  And she lives so close to the Antarian lands, lands where, if the rumors are true, desires like Alex’s are accepted, embraced, even…

“I desire men,” he says, plainly.

The woman looks startled. “Oh.”

“As a husband,” he says, clearing his throat, “should you have need of… needs,” he stammers. “I will not stand in your way, as long as you are discreet. We, we will figure something out for you.  If you wish.” He feels embarrassed, speaking of such things.

“I was not under the impression that such… arrangements would be acceptable in Unidos,” the woman says, carefully.  “Is this a test, Sir Alex?”

“No,” Alex says quickly. “No test.” His shoulders slump.  “Just the truth.  A bitter one.” He bites his lip, a little. “I just… I thought you should know.  Before you commit to a marriage with me.  I apologize if I have offended you.” He looks at the ground.  “Disgusted you.”

The woman grips his hand tighter and, without warning, touches his chin, gently.  Tips his head up to meet her gaze.  “Nothing about you disgusts me.”

Alex is silent, just staring at her.

The woman drops her hand from his face, then, looks away quickly.  “The people of Unidos have strange prejudices that I do not share. Your nature, your… desires, your very being… they offend me not.  Not in the slightest,” she says forcefully.  “But I must ask, why did you agree to a match with me?”

Alex looks at her sadly. “Perhaps I shouldn’t speak so freely to you.  I don’t, don’t truly know you, your background, who you are…” He shakes his head. “But, by the gods, I want to tell you.” His voice is barely above a whisper now, despite Flint’s absence. “I cannot go against my father. For any reason.  You… you have surely seen the type of man he is.  And I thought, well… there are worse matches. Given your, your age,” he says, delicately, “I had hoped that certain marital duties might not need to be part of our contract.”

The woman holds his gaze with those unfathomable eyes. “Not if you don’t want to.  Never, if you don’t want to, Sir Alex.”

She looks so earnest, in that moment, so open and true. Alex feels, deep in his gut, that he can trust her. He raises their still-clasped hands to his mouth, presses a chaste kiss to the ridge of her knuckles.  

“Thank you,” he whispers.

[lia-jones]

Growing Stronger - Chapter One - Andrea’s Breakup Recovery Guide

Author’s note: Yay, part two! Posting chapters as fast as I can, because stuff is coming and you don’t want to miss (I hope so!).

In pretty much every magazine for women or teenagers, one is destined to come across something along the subject of breakups and how to recover from them. A paraphernalia of advice on what you should do, like reinvent yourself, cut communication, get hammered. I used to laugh when I read such articles, I felt so above it. Well, it turns out, I wasn’t. I was just never so broken-hearted before.

Breaking up with Victor was one of the hardest things I had done in my life, to be honest. The pain I felt could easily compare with the pain of being a victim of domestic abuse, if not worse. By the time things ended with Daniel, I wasn’t in love with him. It was a huge relief to get rid of him. But I was still very much in love with Victor. And losing him was like losing a lung, it made it so much harder to breathe.

I looked at my phone countless times, hoping he would text, or wanting to call him. I imagined myself meeting him by accident on the street, or the supermarket, the window for reconciliation opening, us together again, and hopefully, happily ever after. I ran all these scenarios in my mind, painfully remembering how good it felt to have his hands on my skin, his lips, his warmth. I laughed again at all the jokes he told me, because Victor could look cold and mechanic, but he was actually very witty and funny when he felt more at ease. And I recalled every single line of our fight, and always came to the same conclusion: our relationship was the perfect storm, and we were better apart than together.

We didn’t break up for no reason, and even though I was obviously wearing breakup rose-colored glasses, the truth was painstakingly evident. We had problems. Lots of them. Thanks to his fame I would never have a private life again, and despite our best efforts to keep the media quiet, God only knew when they would remember to revisit my abuse, or interview someone in my family, and how that would affect my work. And despite his apparent wish in wanting me in his life, I had to conclude I never was truly in his life. He hid things from me. Important things. There were years of Victor I did not know, and he was not willing to share. Huge red flag. Apart from that, I didn’t seem to be a good fit in his life either. His father disapproved of our relationship and was very clear about it. Victor’s relationship with his father wasn’t very good to begin with, sure, and it seemed that nothing that Victor ever did was good enough for his father, but still… His father was his family. People we would have to have some connection to over the years, and starting on a sour note was very dangerous, and a prelude for more problems.

And then there was another seldomly discussed but extremely painful reason: I was infertile. I was able to overcome every single thing Daniel had done to me but this. And this was huge. Should Victor be with me, I would be depriving him of something that could mean a lot to him. Even if he accepted it at first, he would eventually want a child of his own, with his features, his DNA… and he wouldn’t be able to do it with me. He wouldn’t leave me for that, he was a “thick and thin” kind of guy, so he would slowly start to resent me instead. We would end up an unhappy bitter couple. I didn’t want to do that to myself, but most of all, Victor did not deserve it. I didn’t want to be the one making him go through so much hardship.

So I decided to keep looking at my phone, put my breakup in my It’s for the best mental drawer, and focus on learning to live without him. I must confess, if my endless nights crying while gulping Ben&Jerry’s were any indicator, I didn’t start my healing process very well. I was still sad and starting to gain some weight, and none of that was helpful. So, remembering the articles I used to read about breakups, and that concluding steps like getting myself hammered and writing bitter letters were as helpful to me as crying and ice cream, I decided to create a list of my own.

Working hard was always a good distraction, so I decided I would start with that. The less time I had left to think about Victor, the better, so I took as much work as I could, leaving only a few hours out for sleep and socializing. I restarted my Krav Maga lessons and actually added some more exercise to burn the ice cream calories off. Levi immediately offered himself to be my exercise buddy, so I wouldn’t even have the time to think about Victor when I ran, which would also be a very good thing.

Those magazine articles always spoke of some kind of reinvention, and although I didn’t want to be drastic, I could use a haircut. I cut my curls in a shoulder-length angled bob, and did some blond ombre highlights to compliment my hair color. I decided to get some new clothes as well. Since my position at the university didn’t require business clothes, I decided it wouldn’t hurt to add some casual clothes, like jeans and more flowy tops. Maybe those cute sneakers I saw at that shop that day.

Bottling up my emotions was not a good idea, so I figured I should find some kind of outlet for them. Writing bitter letters was not a viable option, and Victor did not deserve them, so I settled for music instead. I missed my piano, and always thought about buying one if I truly settled in Loveland. Now I could afford it, I was working at the University and making good money. After thoughtful consideration and what I considered a true real-life Tetris experience, I finally managed to rearrange my furniture and make space for a digital piano. I would express my feelings through playing, maybe write a few songs of my own.

Needless to say, none of my friends or family took the news of the breakup very well, although I never shared the details of it with anyone. My mom, of course, tried to find out more and offer me some unwarranted therapy, but just ended up saying that, despite thinking I had made a big mistake, she wished me well and only wanted me to be happy. My father, my brother and Cristina were disappointed too. Apparently, Victor had made a bigger impression than I thought.

I remained close to Diane and Goldman, although I couldn’t discuss the breakup with them either. Diane was adamant on us meeting at least once a week for lunch, and clearly was not accepting the breakup, always hinting we would end up together again. I tried my best to steer clear off the topic, talking about her and Goldman instead, or something work-related. Surprisingly, in one of those mandatory outings, she seemed to have no intention to mention Victor.

“You are a terrible friend, you know.” Diane declared, sipping on her orange juice.

“I would ask why, but I’m pretty sure you are going to tell me.” I teased her.

“Well, I’ve been waving my hand like crazy for the last 30 minutes and you didn’t even notice what I have on my finger!” She almost yelled, excited. “I mean, it’s no use wearing an engagement ring if it doesn’t make your friends jealous!”

Yup. There it was. A lovely golden band with a considerably sized diamond in it. I gasped.

“Goldman proposed?!?!? When?”

“Last weekend.” She smiled, dreamily. “He took us to the restaurant we went to on our very first date, that Italian cute one? He hid the ring in the tiramisu.”

“That sounds really dangerous.” I laughed. “One of you would’ve had a surprise that night. Maybe a trip to the hospital.”

“Oh, just say it, you’re jealous.” She gave me a sly smile. “All you have to do is to stop that breakup nonsense, so we can pick wedding dresses together!”

“Whoa, Bridezilla! Hold your horses!” I laughed, starting to get a bit tense. “Even if Victor and I were together, which you know we are not, there would be no guarantee of him popping the question any time soon.”

“I feel so sad to hear that.” Diane almost pouted. “Was the breakup that bad? No going back? At all? You never say anything!”

“First of all, your fiancé works with my ex, so… And besides, how rude would it be of me to go around trashing my ex after breaking up with him? Victor doesn’t deserve it, he is a great guy. It’s not right to just go out disclosing facts about our intimacy because I was part of it.”

“Most girls would just badmouth the ex.” Diane frowned.

“Most girls didn’t date Victor Lee.” I shrugged.

“The upside is, if you are adamant in protecting him, it may be salvageable after all. He’s been really moody these days.” Diane continued to push the issue, sounding worried. I quickly brushed it off.

“When is he not?” I shrugged. “It’s Victor.”

“When he was with you.” Diane smiled. “Andrea, he’s hurting. He’s been sad, and reclusive, burying himself in work.”

It didn’t surprise me to know I wasn’t the only one using work as a distraction.

“Breakups are hard, Diane. He’s not the only one hurting. I won’t say much, but I will give you this. It was for the best, for both of us. It hurts now, but we will move on. I moved on from Daniel, he moved on from Mia. We will move on from each other.”

“I witnessed the whole Mia situation. Andrea, he wasn’t like this. Not like this.”

“It’s Victor. He’ll bounce back soon enough.” Or so I hoped. I felt my heart tighten with emotions I couldn’t or wouldn’t dare to identify.

That night, I resumed the staring contest with my phone, thinking about Victor. I missed his voice. I was worried about him. Instead of doing the absolute error of calling my ex, I did something even worse, I went through the pictures. I found one of my favorites, one of Victor sleeping. There was something sweet in his expression when he slept, there were none of the usual barriers he set in place. There was only Victor, and the sweetness he contained, that I was so honored to witness. He opened himself to me, let me look into his light, let me touch it and bask in it, and trusted me with this secret. And I let him down.

No matter how things ended, no matter how many reasons I could come up with to hate him, I loved him. I didn’t blame him for this breakup, I took full responsibility on that. Yes, he was hiding things from me, and yes, he did say some very hurtful things, but I was the one that hurt him the most. I slapped him and I left him. In his words, I abandoned him.

And even though I had my reasons, I still felt like a total bitch for breaking his heart like that. No amount of advice on how to recover from a breakup would help me with that.

[xerogravityorange]

Horseune Miku

[obsidianmirrored]

High School Re-Moo-nion | Teresa & Luce

Controlling her breathing, Luce maintained a quick but measured pace as she ran around the outskirts of the UMWC campus. With the return of the sun, she was taking advantage of actually being able to see where the fuck she was going and not have to hold her phone’s flashlight on whenever she was running. It was a nice change of pace, in a very literal way. As she continued to run, Luce glanced over at the athletic fields. Sometimes the women’s rugby team would be playing and she didn’t mind checking that out, in a purely athletic way. Totally just out of athletic interest. But, the fields were empty, except for a couple guys playing soccer at the far end away from her. Damn. Pulling her eyes from the field, she rounded the corner that led further away from campus towards the woods-- what the fuck? Jogging to a stop, Luce stared in confusion, not sure what to make of the sight in front of her. A giant fucking cow was walking out of the forest that surrounded the town, ambling right towards her. “Whoa there, Bessie.” She said, holding up her hands. What the fuck was a cow doing here?

Teresa was doing her counts, getting ready to round every one up and when she noticed one of the cows was missing. She already knew who it was. She didn’t need to look any further. It was one of their brown swiss named Perla. That girl was just too curious and too sweet for her own good. She loved meeting people and going up to them and that’s probably what led her out in the first place. She enclosed the cows before heading to the horse - if it had just been Tez to come along, she wouldn’t follow her home but the horse provided a bit of a fear that made her more eager to return home. Once she saddled up, her mother was outside the door, wondering what was going on. “Perla.” Was all Tez needed to say before her mom nodded knowingly and went back inside. Teresa had a few of Perla’s favorites to check on. However, she figured if the owner of the drive-in hadn’t called her yet, she most likely wasn’t there. She was probably cutting through the University’s campus to make her way to the Common. Teresa only hoped she wasn’t too late and the cow hadn’t gotten deep into Downtown yet.

As the cow continued to walk up to her, Luce glanced around. Most of the students were either in classes, in their dorms, or just not interested in putzing around the woods. Which was fair. She probably wouldn’t be around here either if she was a student. “C’mon, back up there.” Luce warned, holding her hands up in front of her. But, realistically, what was she going to do? Push it? She didn’t really know much about cows, but she was pretty sure this wasn’t how cow tipping worked. As the big animal continued to lumber towards her, she felt her fingertips grow warm. Mmmmm, turning it into a steak seemed a little overkill. And messy. Taking a breath, she started to back away, trying to make a wide circle around the cow. If she went back into the woods, it would probably go off on its way to the college, right? “So you want a good education, huh? You live your life, I’ll live mine.” She said as she tried to move away from the cow. But the damn thing just stared at her with big brown eyes and followed after her. Shit.

Teresa exited the woods surrounding the campus and started looking around. Typically she gathered where people would be, sometimes Tez could swear she knew the general schedules and when most classes finished. As her horse tread along, she spotted the cow and was relieved albeit slightly annoyed at the silly cow but then saw her moving toward someone and given how she was walking away from her, she probably didn’t want anything to do with the cow. She urged Frida to head to the cow but it seemed Perla had heard the familiar sound of her horse and picked up speed heading in the direction of the person which wasn’t ideal. She was too close for Teresa to feel confident about cutting her off and not potentially injuring either girl or the cow. Her plan wasn’t working so Teresa quickly unmounted the horse and started jogging toward them. “She won’t hurt’cha.” She reassured. Thankfully, Teresa was just a little bit faster than the cow and she cut her off, causing the cow to snort and turn. “Where do you think you’re going?” She muttered to the cow in spanish, hands raised, ready to try and grab a hold of her. She turned around, wondering if the cow did actually startle her. “You good?” As she turned the cow hit the brim of her hat causing it to flop onto the floor. “Hey!” She fully turned to pick up the hat from the ground, not seeing the cow start to head off once more.

At the sound of someone speaking behind her, Luce turned around and saw a woman jogging over to her, looking real fucking Brokeback Mountain. Down to the horse, in fact. “Ah, great. Then why does she keep coming towards me?” Luce asked skeptically and continued to back away. She watched as the woman hurried up to the cow. Probably its owner? Made sense with the cowboy get-up. “Yeah, I’m fine. Just didn’t expect to run into a goddamn cow.” As she spoke, Luce blinked as the cow knocked the woman’s hat off and began to hurry towards the campus. Was it really trying to make a break for it? What kinda weird ass cow..? “I think your cow’s real interested in getting a college degree.” She said, her tone wry now that the big hunk of beef had wandered away from her.

Teresa stood up and turned around, seeing the cow walking away. She put her hat back on. “Uh, she just really likes bein’ with people. I think they pet her and give her food so she always wants to keep comin’ back.” She glanced back at the stranger, only then realizing there was a hint of familiarity that she couldn’t place but she wasn’t about to try and guess or even ask. “Sorry if she scared you. She’s actually pretty friendly and maybe too curious for her own good.” She let out a soft laugh at her cow’s antics before realizing the other girl probably didn’t care or even know what was so funny. Swallowing roughly, she stood there for a moment. “Scuse me.” She gave a brief nod and headed for the cow once more who seemed to find interest in a shrub. Teresa chided her in spanish trying to shoo her away from them and it worked, only that she was coming back around to the girl. Leave it to her to get the run around in front of someone. It was fine when she played these games in the middle of the woods with no one around but not when someone else could be watching.

Folding her arms across her chest, Luce quirked an eyebrow. She hadn’t been scared by the cow. Confused, sure. Not sure what to do about it, totally. Scared? Not at all. If she’d been scared she would have just turned it into a roast beef sandwich. Which probably wouldn’t have endeared her to Little Miss Cowboy over there. “She didn’t scare me. Most people don’t expect to come across a cow when they’re out for a run.” Luce said, gesturing to her leggings and tank top. She definitely wasn’t dressed in any kind cow wrangling gear. Whatever the fuck that was. Watching as the woman followed after the cow, Luce looked over at the horse that was loitering next to her. It stared at her with large eyes, as though waiting for her to make a move. “What are you looking it?” She asked it. The horse, of course, said nothing. Which made Luce question why she was even still standing around. But, the answer was pretty simple. Brokeback was cute, in a yee-haw kind of way. And the cow was weird. Maybe it had been cursed with above bovine intelligence or something. Who knows?

“She seems real interested in you,” Teresa spoke out, letting out an uneasy laugh, completely self-conscious over the fact that she was having to wrangle her cow up in front of a stranger. Why hadn’t she left? Teresa would have much preferred doing this alone - made a fool of herself when no one was looking, that’s how she liked it. Unfortunately, she would have an audience today. Even if it was just one, it was one too many. People judged, people made assumptions. That was why she preferred animals better. Stopping by her horse for a second, she opened one of the satchels, pulling out some corn leaves and stems and then the rope. Lightly jogging back to the cow that had stopped in front of the strange girl, Teresa waved a hand for her attention. “D’ya think you could help me - all you gotta do is hold the rope wide enough for her to fit her head in while I entice her with some food.” She lifted both to show her, glancing to meet her eyes for just a moment, unable to make eye contact. “Or you can feed her - whatever you feel comfortable doin’. Uh, please?” Already the cow was interested in the stems and leaves more than meeting someone new. Tez had to hide it behind her for a second or else she’d snatch it out of her hand and they’d have nothing to bribe her to come home with.

“Apparently.” Luce nodded, watching as the woman tried and failed to get the cow to come towards her. She didn’t have much knowledge of how things like this worked, but she’d seen a cowboy movie years ago. Shouldn’t this lady be tossing a lasso around the cow? Or was that stereotypical? When she asked for her help, Luce blinked. “You want me to help you?” Did she look like the kind of person who knew what the fuck to do with a big ass animal like this? The biggest animal she’d ever handled was a particularly rambunctious Doberman that belonged to one of her old coworkers. Cows? Not at all. But, the ‘please’ at the end of the request was what got her. Letting out a sigh, she held out a hand. “Give me the rope. I’m not about to give a cow the opportunity to bite my fingers or something.” She said.

Tez was anticipating the no and even winced lightly at the question but once she agreed to it, she handed the rope. “Here,” she said softly and then brought her hand back in front of her as she moved closer to her to try and get the cow to get in the rope. Already the cow was sticking its tongue out, eager for the greens. “That’s a good size.” Teresa let her know, not needing it too wide that she might get out of it before she can tighten it around her neck. She then waved the leaves through the rope, the cow willingly taking the bait. They still had to move gently or else they’d spook her and she could injure both of them but everything seemed to be going fine. Finally, she made contact with the leaves and stems and her snout already passed the line. Just a little bit more now… “ Teresa encouraged it with soft tutting. “There we go.” The cow had its whole head in and she reached for the end of the rope where the other girl was holding. “I got it now, thank you.”

How she wound up holding a loop of rope out for a weird, friendly cow and a quiet cowgirl, Luce would never know. She’d just been out for a run, blowing off steam, hoping to check out some of the college girls. But, here she was. Helping set the most obvious trap in the history of obvious traps. Shaking her head to herself, she watched as the woman began to lure the cow forward, its tongue sticking out eagerly for the greens. At least treats seemed to work on it. As soon as the cow had it’s head in the loop, Luce slid the knot tighter, just enough to keep it from immediately jerking its head out and away. “All yours, don’t need to tell me twice.” She said, handing the rope off immediately. “Where’d you come from, All Brokeback Mountain with your cow and your horse?” She asked, tilting her head back to the horse that was still staring at her.

Teresa took the rope and whistled for the horse who slowly came to her side. The cow finished the treat and only then seemed to have noticed what happened and moved her head. Teresa started to calm her down by rubbing her head. “Bro -” she tugged on the rope as the cow tried to move back. “Brokeback mountain?” She asked, confused by what she meant. Although the rest of the question wasn’t that confusing. “Uh, I came from over--over there.” She motioned to the woods, knowing that was possibly the worst way to respond to that sort of question but she was too thrown off to give anything close to resembling a smart answer. She chose to fill the air with working on tying the cow and the horse together. Now she could be sure the cow wouldn’t try to run off anytime soon. She’d be having to drag the horse with her after all. As if sensing her nerves, the horse brushed against her arm and she reached out to stroke her just above the nose. “I’m Teresa.” She took a beat too long to hold her arm out for a handshake and it came off as graceful as one might expect.

When the reference went right over the woman’s head, Luce shrugged it off. “Don’t worry about it, cowboy.” She said with a wave of her hand. It made sense that she wouldn’t know what she was talking about; how many actual farmers and shit watched a movie about gay cowboys? Whatever. Tightening her ponytail while the woman pointed out to the woods, she let out a slightly mocking laugh. “What, you just popped out of a pine tree with a horse and cow?” She said, hands resting on her hips. As the woman introduced herself, Luce blinked. Teresa? As she put together the quiet breaks into Spanish, the name, and the slightly familiar face-- Huh. Well, wasn’t that something? “No shit?” Ignoring the hand, Luce pointed to herself. “We had chemistry together sophomore year. Pretty sure we got stuck doing some bullshit project for science fair. I’m Luce. Luce Vural?” She said. Damn, that was like… 10 years ago at this point. How times had changed.

All she had to say was chemistry and Teresa finally knew where she recognized her. “Oh, right, I remember.” Not that it was something she wanted to remember. High school wasn’t exactly… her best show of behavior nor was it just her favorite memories to recall. “How-how have you been?” Oh no, now they had to make small talk. Tez only hoped she was able to keep up the conversation without making too much of a fool of herself. She tried to recall what she last heard or saw of Luce. She didn’t really keep much attention on her classmates but she remembered Luce was dating someone, although his name escaped her. “Are you uh, still with um… that guy?” That guy? Wow, clearly Teresa was great with words. Luce has to have remembered what his name was but she didn’t exactly hang out with anyone and when she was expelled she didn’t keep in touch with anyone when she decided to leave town. She internally cringed at how she behaved before coming home. She was a complete brat, completely selfish, concerned about no one but herself. She only hoped that wasn’t the last way Luce remembered her as. Although she couldn’t recall anything negative about their science project. It’s not like they became friends out of it either.

Raising an eyebrow at the lame attempt at small talk, Luce let out a small laugh. “I’ve been good. Grew up. Got a job. Stuck around. Same as you, seems like it.” She said, gesturing to the horse and cow that were now hitched together by the length of rope. At the mention of one of the dudes she dated back in high school, Luce burst into laughter. Fuck, that was funny. She hadn’t thought about that in ages. Sure, she’d dated guys in high school. Mostly just to be certain that she wanted absolutely nothing to do with them. A couple had been nice-- and so repressed-- but most of her boyfriends had been boring. “Oh, fuck no. No, I’m gay as hell. Figured that out like, end of senior year.” She said with a nod. Of course, she hadn’t done anything about it back then. It wasn’t until she’d been working at Ink Inc. for about a year did she loosen up and live a little. “Wouldn’t have pegged you for some kind of cowboy, Teresa. You always seemed more like a brawler.”

Tez wasn’t sure what she had said that got such a positive reaction from Luce and kind of wondered if she was laughing at her, which then made her even more self-conscious. “Oh, uh, that’s good. Good for you.” Teresa didn’t know what to say. Her mothers were gay and she knew she wasn’t straight and that was really where everything stood. Luce didn’t need to know her lack of experience in everything. God, she was almost thirty and she’s never so much as held hands with anyone other than her mothers. She was so pathetic. Teresa laughed her nerves away, shifting her weight onto another leg. “C-cowboy? No, I just work on my family’s farm.” It was embarrassing that Luce recalled her teenage antics, though. She was hardly the reclusive angry girl in high school. She didn’t have time to be selfish. Everything she did was for her family. She was selfish for long enough, it was necessary to grow up. “I don’t fight, uh, like that anymore.” In fact she had no ill feelings toward her ex best friend. It’d all been directed inward instead. She couldn’t lie and say she didn’t fight because she did. This time it wasn’t for selfish reasons. It was in the name of their faith, in hopes that she could keep her mom alive and ideally, better. “D’ya still do art?”

“Mhm, very good for me.” Luce said with a nod, amused by the way the woman seemed to balk at her. Thinking back to the way that Teresa had held herself back in the day, she couldn’t help but grin at how very different things were now. She’d always been quiet, sketching in the margins of her homework, settled in the middle of the class. Not at the front with the smart kids or at the back with the troublemakers-- every class, she was firmly placed in the middle. Just like at home, she was overlooked and overshadowed. She could remember Teresa getting pulled into the school administration office for one outburst or another. She wasn’t much like the bashful cowboy looking motherfucker in front of her. “I see. Farm life suits you.” She said boldly, eyes flicking up and down for a moment before letting out a sigh. “Really? Fair enough, we all have to grow up sometime.” Luce said. Tilting her head, the woman held up one of her arms, displaying the intricate tattoos that covered her skin. “Yeah, yeah I do. Not conventional art, though. I’m one of the artists at Ink Inc.”

Teresa let out an exhale with her laugh, just nodding in agreement. She felt embarrassed about the whole high school thing but then again she was sure everyone was embarrassed by their high school self. “Gotta help the family business, y’know?” If it wasn’t her waking up early to feed cows and chickens, clean the horse stables and the rest of the dirty work, her mother wouldn’t be able to do it herself and she’d end up having to hire people to do it for her and that meant less income for them and also potentially attract strangers on their property and close to her weak mother. Neither of them wanted that so Teresa made the effort to work hard, even when she was exhausted all the time. Tez looked at the tattoos Luce showed her and her brows raised in awe. “Oh, did you - wait you don’t tattoo it yourself, duh - but you did the art for it?” Teresa never got a tattoo and never really thought to but she would admit that some of them looked really cool, like Luce’s. “That’s incredible, Luce. I do remember your art was always interestin’ to look at.”

“Fair enough. Family matters… matter.” Luce said lamely, as they were words she didn’t really feel. She’d never wanted anything to do with the family business of showboating their magic, using it as cheap entertainment. She’d been forced into working at Illusions of Grandeur once and promptly called it quits. Working for the family was never a thing she’d ever wanted, or would ever do now that she had a say in her own life path. “But, I’m sure your moms appreciate it.” She said, recalling that Teresa had two mothers back in high school. Shrugging, Luce pointed to a few of the smaller, faded and crappier tattoos. “I did a few of them on myself. Gotta practice on someone, you know? But I did the designs for my sleeves.” She said. Blinking in surprise at Teresa’s compliments, she nodded. “Thanks.” She hadn’t thought anyone had paid much attention to her stuff in high school outside of the art department. Hearing that Teresa remembered them was… strange.

“Yeah, uh… yeah,” she muttered, rubbing at her cheek, unsure of what to say and instead just sounding like a well-educated individual. Her jaw clenched at her own negative thoughts. “Oh,” Teresa noted as she looked at the tattoos she pointed out. “Must’ve been difficult.” Teresa really hadn’t a clue how tattoos worked, maybe it was easier than she thought to tattoo yourself. “Did you just move back into town?” Was that too personal of a question to ask? “I don’t remember ever seein’ you when I stop by your house.” If she had, she would have recognized her much earlier. “Not that I come by often anyway. Just whenever my mom has something for y’all.” And when she did come by, she made sure it was a quick drop off, last thing she needed was to get stuck in a conversation, like this one. But Luce didn’t seem as awkward as she felt, so it didn’t seem that bad.

Hearing the way Teresa steered the conversation away from the topic of family, Luce took the hint. Pointing to her wrist, she waved a hand, “They weren’t too bad to do. The only reason they were hard is because I was inexperienced. I could probably whip out a really nice tattoo on myself, if I had the space. But,” She slapped her thigh lightly. “That’s what my legs are for.” She joked. At Teresa’s mention of the house, Luce raised an eyebrow. What was she doing around her parent’s place? Deliveries? Hm. Maybe her mother had gotten into supporting local businesses or something. Sounded about right. She could see her mother not so subtly pitching that Teresa and her family come to see some of Bea’s performances or some shit like that. “I’ve been moved out for a while. I have a cabin in the woods, but,” Luce let out a huff, blowing her bangs out of her face, “I’m living with Bea and Nell right now. Helping them out with the house, stuff like that.” She lied smoothly.

Teresa’s eyes dropped to Luce’s legs and then shot back up, feeling it was a bit much. “Do you only have ‘em on your uh, arms?” She asked, hoping her quick look wasn’t obvious but knowing her look it was very obvious. “A cabin? Sounds nice. I uh, left for a while, actually. Stayed in Maine, but did some backpackin’.” Luce sounded mildly irritated about moving back. Maybe Teresa was just confusing it with Luce’s general… attitude. She definitely was as intimidating as she was ten years ago. Not that Luce ever said anything mean to her, but she just had that presence to her. “Can’t escape family, yeah?” Teresa joked with a small grin, eyes falling in thought to her current family situation. She wished her brothers would come back. However, Tez wasn’t sure if she wanted them back because she missed them or just wanted them to shoulder some of the suffering. It wasn’t fair that she was stuck taking all of it while they went off to live happy lives while one of their mothers suffered every day. “It’s good, um, that you’re helpin’ ‘em out. Guess I’ll be seein’ ya around.”

A grin spread across Luce’s face, growing wider as she saw the way Teresa’s eyes flicked over her. “That’s for me to know.” She said with a wink, the unspoken ‘and for you to find out,’ hanging very clearly in the air. “Backpacking, hm? Sounds like a fun time. I’ve never done that before, but it seems nice.” She nodded. Honestly, she’d like nothing more than to be able to go backpacking for a bit and leave White Crest and it’s piles of problems behind her for just a little while. But, that wasn’t in the cards for her. Besides, her work was here. She wasn’t about to leave that. As the woman seemed to shift uncomfortably, Luce’s eyes flicked over to the cow and horse that were waiting patiently in the wings. “I didn’t really do anything, but sure. Yeah, see you around, Tex.” Luce said, her grin widening.

Teresa was sure by her words alone that she had said something she wasn’t supposed to but the smile on her face was saying otherwise. Confused, she just offered a small smile. “Backpacking was nice.” However Teresa still felt guilt that while she enjoyed her time alone, her mothers were struggling. She swore she’d never be that selfish again. Tez turned to the horse, patting her before walking over to saddle up. She caught the nickname but didn’t notice it any different than the usual shortening of her name. Although she was expecting it since it was mostly done by family members. She didn’t mind. Swinging her leg over, she mounted the horse and grabbed hold of the reins. “See ya, Luce.” She lightly lifted her hat and started to head off with her horse. Thankfully, the cow seemed cooperative and was ready to head home. Before they entered the woods, Teresa turned to get another glance at Luce and then continued heading home.

[jordswriteswords]

Clextober19: Fall Festivities

Back to school was the favourite time of year for most. Parents were overjoyed that their children would be supervised while they were working; children were overjoyed the see their friends again; teachers were overjoyed to… well, they were overjoyed for the weekends.

Madi, on the other hand, hated back to school. Being a half witch meant she had half the human antibodies, and half the witch antibodies, therefore, she was in for a whole dose of unrelenting colds during the first two months. She would get sick at least twice in that short amount of time, causing her to miss a lot of school and a lot of the time that children spent making and solidifying their friendships.

But, she couldn't go to school. Not when her nose was stuffy and running and she was sniffling and sneezing and turning her mother into an elephant, blowing her Aunt Raven up like fireworks, and sending her mama into the desert and back again in a wiggle of her nose.

But Ms. Indra insisted that she be present for the first field trip of the year. The kids were going to the apple farm, after all, and Lexa had volunteered as the class chaperone.

In hindsight, Madi should have known that her class would have been more interested in Lexa and her superstar status than the actual field trip. Even as the ten year old curled up in her mama’s shoulder, she was still having to deal with boys and girls interrupting to get a picture with her mama or ask for her autograph.

Madi sucked down the hot tea that her mama had packed in her travel mug, a blend of echinacea and magical herbs to fight off both sides of the cold virus. It relieved the aches and pains, and most importantly, stopped the sniffles for the time being.

The class wandered through the apple farm for a majority of the day, getting lost in corn mazes, learning how to bale hay for the animals, petting tiny lambs in the petting zoo, and drinking warm cups of apple cider and eating apple pie.

Madi had made it throughout most of the day without mishap aside from sneezing and blowing her mom across the corn field. Lexa snapped her fingers and fixed the holes that were created before anyone had noticed, though.

The last part of the trip was the horse rides around the farm. Each child in the class took a turn on one of the ten horses for a tour of the entire farm.

Madi brushed her hand along the nose of a chocolate pony. “Hey. Your name is Ryder. It’s cute.”

The horse stomped it's foot in the mud and shook it's head up and down. “I think my handler was a punny guy.”

Madi chuckled. “That’s actually funny.”

The horse took a step back. “No way you can understand me.”

Madi smiled up at the big nose, lifting her hands in deference like her mama had taught her to approach animals. “Duh. You speak English. You just have a weird accent.”

The horse neighed, catching Lexa’s attention. and she took a quick picture of her daughter smiling up at the giant and sent it off to her wife.

Ryder bowed his head and said, “Well I’ll be, aren't you just a smart lil cookie. Hey Cleatus! Lookie o’er here! We got us our own Dr. Doohickey!”

“Dr. Doolittle,” Madi corrected, and Ryder huffed at her.

A black stallion galloped over towards them and sniffed Madi’s neck. “She smells like apples. I love apples!”

She giggled at the contact, and pulled an apple out of her pocket, holding it out for Cleatus.

“You can hear us?” Cleatus asked.

Madi nodded and giggled more when he stepped right into her space, his giant eyeball looking into hers.

A white mare saddled up to Madi shortly after, nudging her bum with her nose.

“Ponyelope,” Ryder scolded. “She’s a good one.”

They were interrupted by the sounds of her classmate yelling. “Look at this weirdo!” Josephine Lightborne pointed at Madi, who was surrounded by horses. “She can’t make real friends so she hangs out with animals!”

Madi’s classmates pointed and laughed, and Lexa had to squeeze her hands together to stop them from snapping and giving all the ten year olds wedgies. But, if Josephine ended up stepping in a suddenly appearing cow-pie, Lexa was none the wiser.

“Don’t mind them, darlin’” Ryder consoled. “Let’s just go on a good ol’ fashioned ride. That’ll cheer ya’up, I promise,” he neighed.

Madi sighed, but smiled when Ryder rubbed his nose against her cheek. Ryder took off at a slow cadence once Madi climbed aboard, describing all the parts of the farm to her. He wandered as far away from the rest of the group as he could without drawing suspicion to point out the magical flowers in the fields and the magical animals that could only be seen by those with abilities.

The path wound around and through the pumpkin fields, and Madi tensed. "I'm allergic to pumpkins!" She hissed to the horse.

Ryder slowed his trot, but the cowboy handler that was leading the group circled around and forced him to carry on.

Her nose tickled, and she looked over to Lexa with fear in her eyes. She clutched at Ryder’s fur, and her heels dug into his sides.

"I'm trying, I'm trying," Ryder said, trying to console his rider. He tried to move faster, but his handler wasn't letting him, tired of his antics.

Madi sneezed and all hell broke loose.

She had turned the pumpkin patch into a giant, living creatures that scared Josephine's horse into bucking with her still on. She fell off the back of the horse and straight into the mud with a scream.

The rest of the horses followed suit, kicking and bucking their riders off so they could free themselves.

"Whoa, whoa!" The handlers tried, but the terrified animals wouldn't heed. The animals kicked and whined, and started to run off.

"What did I do?" Madi questioned, her voice shaky with sadness.

Ryder didn’t buck his rider off; however. He took off with Madi on his back, straight to the rest of the now free horses. All the horses had run about a hundred yards from the scare and we're circling the ground, huffing angrily.

"What was that?"

"I'll kill it!"

"I hate pumpkins!"

"Fight back!"

Madi jumped off the horse and approached the pack with her hands up. "Whoa, whoa," The horses were frazzled and frightened. "I know you're all scared. It's okay, it's my fault."

"Kill the girl!" One horse yelled, neighing and rearing back on its hind legs. Ryder moved in front of her. "Calm down, Otis, she's just a girl!"

"It was an accident!" Madi pleaded. "It was an accident. I can't control my powers."

"She scared us!"

"But we're fine!" Ryder said.

"Let's just all calm down," Madi said. "I'm sorry I scared you. I won't let it happen again."

The horses huffed and sneezed, but Madi wouldn’t move from the middle of the pack.

"Madi, no!" Her teacher called.

"Wait, wait," Lexa said, grabbing the teacher and stopping them from interfering. “They’re calming down.”

“Please, just come back to your owners. I promise, no more magic. No more pumpkins.”

Ponyelope looked around, her ears twitching with nerves.

“Please,” Madi breathed.

Ponyelope took one step, then two, then moved right past Madi and headed towards the handlers. The rest of the horses followed, and Ryder pressed his big head into Madi’s chest. She laughed and hugged his nose.

The class looked on as Madi corralled the horses and got them to follow her back to the handlers.

"How did you do that?" Aden asked when she got back.

Madi just shrugged.

"It's because - it's because she's a weirdo!" Josephine said, covered from head to toe in mud. "She doesn't have any friends so she talks to animals, and even they don't listen to her!"

A few of her classmates laughed at Madi, whose cheeks became warm with embarrassment. She ran back to the bus, and Lexa trailed after her.

"Hey, shut up!" Aden Forrest, they typically shy and well mannered boy, yelled. "She saved your life, Josephine! She saved all of us from getting really hurt!"

***

"Mads?" Lexa asked, slowly sitting next to her daughter on the large seat of the deserted bus.

The only sound was a sniffle, and then Lexa felt the soft flutter of snowflakes cascading onto her head.

"I hate this," Madi whispered. "I hate having magic! I hate being human! I hate that I'm just a weird half-thing!" The sound of her voice grew louder until she shouted at her mama. She turned and punched the seat in front of them as tears poured from her eyes.

"I'm sorry you feel that way Madi," Lexa said, dusting the snow off her shoulder and then wrapping her daughter in a warm hug.

Madi sniffed again as the tears fell and Lexa was pelted with sand and dirt.

Lexa snapped and created an umbrella to hover above her and her daughter to stop the onslaught.

"You have so many special gifts, Madi, but the best one is that you're kind. Don't let someone like Josephine take that away from you. What you did today made me more proud than you learning your first spell. You're a great person, and kids are just dumb. It'll get better, I promise. If you want to be sad right now, or if you can't help it, that's okay. I'm right here. But, never hate who you are. You’re the best parts of me and the best parts of your mom. You’re an incredible kid, Madi."

Madi leaned into her mama and hugged her tightly around her neck. "I love you, mama."

"Love you too, Mads."

Aden was the first student to enter the bus since the incident, and his heavy, awkward footsteps sounded until he was standing directly in front of Madi and Lexa’s seat. "Hey, sorry, Hi, Mrs. Griffin-Woods. I'm sorry to interrupt, but uhh," Aden said, shuffling awkwardly from foot to foot. He had a piece of paper in his hand that he folded and unfolded methodically.

Madi hid her face in Lexa's collar, and it took everything inside of the brunette not to snap at the boy. "Yes, Aden?" She asked, already pulling her pen out of her pocket to sign his paper.

"Sorry, um, thank you for offering, but I don’t want your autograph.” He ran his hand through his shaggy blonde hair, “but can you give this to Madi for me? I just want her to know that she's the coolest person ever and say thank you for saving us." His earnest blue eyes pleaded with Lexa and he thrust the paper into her face. She gracefully retrieved it from his fingers and opened it only after he scurried away and off the bus.

Lexa’s heart melted at what she saw.

Aden had written a big 'thank you' on the cover of the card. Inside, all the students in the class signed the left side of the page. On the right side, he had drawn a picture of Madi with a cape and a horse. And on the back, he scrawled, 'Madi, thank you for saving us. You're a superhero. Can I sit with you at lunch tomorrow? - your friend, Aden'

[wheremytwinwatches]

[Where My Twin Watches]: Full Metal Alchemist Brotherhood Episode 36

Last time: Sloth wished he had a jacket or something, our heroes found the Goth’s illegal mining operation, and M.G. Armstrong was offered immortal soldiers. Onwards!

No intro again, we’re starting with oh it’s Beard. Alright buddy, what are you up to now? Reciting names? While undressing? Who are you talking to

oh um Well this is a thing.

So… after saying a bunch of names, Beard apologized that he had to “use” them, then jammed his fingers into his chest to pour some blood onto the ground, which then swirled around and went into the earth.

Beard’s not the Big Bad, is he? It’s Uncle.

Tephi is currently sniggering at me.

Crazy Theory In Light Of New Scene Time! *deep breath*

So all this time I’ve been ranting at Beard for being the Big Bad, but what I’m guessing now is a Frankenstein situation; Beard got caught up in his research trying to expand Alchemy and create a Homunculi (with the Philosopher’s Stone? Without?), created Uncle who then decided that he was a superior being to mere humans and went on to create the Goths. Beard goes into hiding/on his endless fishing trip, is he trying to stop Uncle or has given it up as a lost cause? He also appears to have the same Philosopher’s Stone blood that Uncle has, experimenting on himself before making Uncle? Who knows! Still don’t forgive him for abandoning his family, even if he has some excuse like “I did it to protect you from the Goths.”, because we can see how well that worked out.

In any case, I think I understand all the blocks of spoiler text now, if he actually is a good guy then I apologiz- no actually I don’t apologize, dude is still sketchy as hell and abandoned his wife and kids. He’s still got a long way to go before he makes a Homura recovery on my List.

Episode 36 - “Family Portrait”

This looks like it’ll be another Beard episode like Interlude Party (which I just went back to re-read my post and I’m cringing at my anti-Beard rants), but with The Reveal I think I’d be ok with getting some more info on this guy. Just as long as we can get back to M.G. Armstrong catfishing Raven soon.

Yup, flashback episode. Baby!Ed and Baby!Al are sleeping, Beard by their bedside. Mama Elric says he can hug them if he wants, but Beard doesn’t want “the monster” to spread. So he already has his Philosopher’s Blood at this point?

[Mama Elric]: “Please. If it could spread that way, don’t you think I would have caught it a long time ago?”

I did not know I needed sassy Mama Elric until I got it but now I have a mighty need

The standard Creepy Tinkly Piano Music starts up as Beard

[Beard]: “Since I got this body-”

?! No no, I can’t stop and rewrite all my theories every other sentence or we’ll be here all night.

Beard is saying that ever since he got this body he’s seen a lot of death, tried to pass it off as the natural flow of the universe. He’s seen a lot of new things flourish over his life, accepted his body and kept on living. But then he met Mama Elric and created two sons oh ok I can see where this is going. Easy to accept death when it happens to Others, but to your Own?

...or not since he just compares himself to his aging sons, calls himself a monster. Damnit man I was giving you a noble backstory stop messing up my theories

Later, Mama Elric summons Beard from his Lair/Lab to surprise him with a photographer! Oh I get it, they’re getting that family picture (title drop-ish) that Beard took with him when he stopped by Resembool. Mama Elric passes Beard Baby!Ed, and good Leto man you’ve been a father for how many years? Not wanting to disturb them while they were sleeping was one thing but you’re acting like someone handed you another child, surely you’ve had some practice and carrying your own sons.

The Elrics pose while the photographer takes oh never mind Mama Elrics giving her “we’re taking this picture for the memories” speech even though he just asked for everyone to stand still. This is an old-timey camera lady, if you keep talking it’ll end up with everyone else ok but you with a great big blur where your mouth is.

[Mama Elric]: “He’s taking it. Smile, dear.” [Beard]: *Complete opposite of a smile*

Aw. Ok, I can understand why they crop out his head in that picture all the time now, that’s just depressing.

Huh. So that’s Beard’s motivation, then. He’s decided that immortality isn’t worth watching his loved ones age and die around him, so he’s of course researching a way to make them immortal as well nope he just wants to reverse his immortality so he can age and die with them. Ehhhhhhh ok whatever we aren’t getting back into the “is immortality good or bad” thing seeing as the only in-universe way is Stupidly Evil, let’s just focus on going back to Plain Old Human.

[Beard]: “That bastard…”

Are you talking about Uncle? Truth? Because I swear if this show goes and pulls out another Big Bad “for real this time you guys” I’m going to scream.

Aw, Beard’s fixing up the tree swing, we get an amusing moment where he falls down that let’s be real is only amusing because it’s A)in an anime so Physical Comedy is the rule, and B)he’s at least a semi-Goth so physical injuries are just a nuisance. Mama Elric comes out to check on him, and he gives the inevitable reveal that he’s going Absent Anime Father. Mama Elric is… surprisingly chill about this.

Beard’s trying to sneak out while the kids are asleep, but we know how that worked out. Mama Elric goes to distract them as Beard frowns (upset that his secret plan to sneak out secretly and avoid Familial Interaction failed?), then sees Baby!Ed looking up at him.

Way back in Episode 12

Flashback! Mama and Papa Elric are standing at the door, Baby!Ed and Baby!Al happened to be up early in the morning. Mama’s of course all over her children, but Papa Elric… just glares down at Ed, that’s the only description I can use for that look. Then he turns without a word, and walks out the door.

Context!

With both of his sons looking at him, Beard’s self-composure wavers ever slightly before he regains his glare and turns away.

Hey, it’s the campfire from the intro! Beard is looking at the family picture, before looking up to the night sky. “Just a little while longer…”

Whoa, all that was just before the intro?!

Oh come on! I was getting invested in more Beard Backstory, it’s almost a letdown to go back to Fort Briggs. Almost.

A bunch of Briggs soldiers are scouting the Goth Tunnel, seems their radio’s dead. Interference by the Military? The CO says they’ll keep going to find where all the rubble got dumped, but his horse shies and the ominous flutes start up. Who else is down there?

Black Shadows! Eyes! Teeth! Impalement!

Run Smith, run! Flee the Gate of Truth never mind he wasn’t fast enough. Sorry dude.

Ed’s listening to Raven’s “immortal soldiers” offer, and M.G. Armstrong’s baaaarely restraining herself from killing this old creep who’s all up in her personal space. She asks if the whole immortality thing would be for all her troops as well as herself, Raven says he can tell her “later”. So now she has to choose between accepting his offer and assisting his plans for Briggs (which could go very badly for the troops she commands), or refusing and getting pushed aside like General Grumman.

Before she can say anything, a mook’s knocking at the door to report that “something” has happened to the underground tunnel team- whoops, Raven overheard and is inviting himself along to go see. The eavesdroppers head out as well, after Ed Transmutes up some rope to “make it look convincing”. Right they’re still prisoners.

Whew, good thing they got the rope, they’ve run into Sideburns showing Kimblee around the fort. Ed recognizes The Crimson Alchemist, and oh yeah they’ve never actually met before, so Kimblee makes the mistake of thinking The Fullmetal Alchemist is the giant suit of armor instead of the pipsqueak everyone’s pointing to.

[irate!Ed]: “If one more person makes that mistake…”

Down in the pipe room, M.G. Armstrong’s getting the report of lost contact, aside from Smith’s horse with what they assume is his arm (man, arms just do not stay on people’s bodies in this show, do they?). M.G. Armstrong orders a rescue tea- nope shut down by Raven who claims the tunnel is too dangerous. Now, about that immortal monster she was talking about earlier?

Wow. General is straight up ordering M.G. Armstrong to grab the monster they put on ice, put him back in the tunnel and seal it up behind him. Obviously the nearby flunky balks at burying any possible survivors in the tunnel, but Raven just paraphrases the Law of the North about obeying strength and power. Now, is M.G. Armstrong going to refuse an order from her superior officer?

Mid-ep pictures of Crazy Grin Raven and steadfast Olivier Mira Armstrong.

Raven’s visiting the Elric Brothers in their cell, happy to see that they’ve been “keeping their mouths shut”. Ed’s just a little annoyed to have his friends held hostage and be locked up, but the ever-helpful General assures them that they can go soon. He then assures the boys that they don’t need to worry about the tunnel, M.G. Armstrong’s being a good little soldier and following orders.

Something that her own troops seem to be having a little trouble with now, the flunky from earlier is arguing with M.G. Armstrong about the lost team until she snaps at him to be quiet and obey. Kimblee’s watching everything from the walkways and snarks that even “The Impregnable Wall Of Briggs” bows to authority. Here’s hoping she proves you wrong soon.

Hey Sloth, how was your nap? Raven tells him to wake up and get back to work, apparently Pride explained it to him already. Now with his orders to get back to, Sloth returns to digging while Raven spouts some drivel about Sloth being a “chimera” working for Central, and since it was a top-secret mission they had to cover the hole and guard it.

[Raven]: “I’m counting on you soldiers! It’s people like you who make this country what it is!”

...wow. Ok, I’m pretty sure that M.G. Armstrong knows that the offer of immortality is intended to be at the cost of her own troops now. Way to eff things up Raven. Now if you had couched it as harvesting Drachmans to empower herself and her troops it might have been different.

Hey Marcoh, hey May! Still going over the notes?... wait, how long have you been at that hut? What have you been eating? Anyways, Marcoh says the important parts of the book are written in Ancient Ishvalan, which he can’t make heads or tails of. If only they had an Ishvalan Monk who could translate. Yeah, where is Scar?

Ooooh shoot. The Briggs snowtroopers have found the girl with the weird cat now, they draw their guns and move in when suddenly Scar! Man, good timing. Meeting up with the Doctor and the Princess, Scar confirms that they have the notes and says it’s time to move NOW HOLD ON. Did you really just take those two soldiers’ uniforms and leave them in the snow? Dude, not cool! At least move them into the hut so they don’t freeze to death.

Uh, timeskip apparently. Raven and M.G. Armstrong are overseeing the sealing of the tunnel, Raven’s confirming that the “weak” will be sacrificed to make the chosen few immortal. Man, Raven just has no redeeming qualities beyond that beard, does he? He’s just cheerfully talking about how the weak will be the foundation for the strong, completely missing the Death Glare that M.G. Armstrong’s leveling at him.

Sideburns is still having to babysit Kimblee, takes a moment to ask how the punk he was threatening in a hospital just a few days ago healed so quickly, let alone how a convicted murderer of officers got to walk free. Kimblee’s not exactly forthcoming.

Raven’s still cheerfully going on about how the country was founded with the plan to Mass Sacrifice its population, and how his generation gets to reap the rewards. He clasps her shoulder and damnit stop being a creeper you traitor-

[M.G. Armstrong]: “Hmph. There’s no need.”

Wait is she HELL YES

Screw you, you old coward! Just stand there with her sword through your arm as you feebly protest about her being a “chosen one”.

[M.G. Armstrong]: “I don’t need a new seat from you. You’re going to lose the one your moldy ass has clung to for too long! Right about now, Raven! You old TRAITOR!”

Oh hey, how convenient that there’s a fresh pool of concrete for that jerk’s corpse to be hidden in.

[Armstrong the Great]: “General, you are among the weak who will become the foundation for this country. Literally.”

Ha. Now we can get to work! Get some gloves free of traitor’s blood, find Sideburns and the other unwanted guest, and get that concrete nice and level.

Oh my Leto shut up Kimblee, stop trying to antagonize Sideburns with taunts about Ishval. Just as he starts to snap back Sideburns is called aside to hear that he doesn’t have to distract Kimblee anymore. He goes back and claims that “nobody can find General Raven”, so Kimblee… uh oh. Kimblee’s got standing orders to act as he sees fit if Raven’s not around, so they probably should give him a car to leave the fort. After all, one disappearance can be put down as bad luck. Both Raven and Kimblee? They can’t show their hand so soon.

Aw, the flunky who argued for the rescue mission is still pleading with Armstrong the Great to check the tunnel before it’s sealed. Ooh, but Ed made a second door earlier! That… may not have been such a good idea, I know that these guys haven’t seen what killed the tunnel team but still.

The mechanic stops by the Elrics’ cell to say Raven’s taking a concrete nap, then walks off. Wait, you’re still leaving those two in jail? Raven’s dead and Kimblee’s leaving, you don’t need to keep up the prisoner facade! Damnit, let the protagonists out to do their job!

Awww, hell. Kimblee’s shown up, wants to talk with the Fullmetal Alchemist. Fine whatever, just… what do you mean, “a visitor”?

CRAP. Winry! Or, is that Envy in disguise? Nah, probably Winry given how she’s yelling about Ed not getting his automail adjusted before going north. Someone from the military contacted her?

...Kimblee get your hands off her shoulders right now.

Damnit. Right as we get Armstrong the Great acting against the Military in defiance of the immortality temptation, we’ve got the Goth’s attack dog reminding them of the hostages. This is-

The end of the episode? Really? Wow, ok then. This one seemed like we got a short story on Beard (that just raised

so many new questions

) and a partial arc with Fort Briggs. What’s gonna happen next?

Wait hold on, this is one of those post-credit scene episodes. Roy’s meeting with one of the bar girls who’s reporting on Kimblee’s rapid recovery after Raven showed up. After paying her for the info a passing flower merchant teases him about just getting a “nice seeing you”... before saying she has a message from Armstrong the Great.

[Roy]: “I’ll take every flower you have in that cart.”

[cocoisbestgirl]

Fanfic I can’t think of a name for pt 8

Magda’s head ached fiercely as she got out of bed. The sun seemed to scorch her eyes, and she pulled her blanket over her head to hide her face from the light. She groaned as she felt the sun peek through her blanket slightly. 

‘Gah… I shouldn’t have drank so much…’ Magda thought as she took the blanket off and threw her legs over the side of the bed. She gripped her head for a few seconds before her door opened.

“Miss Magda, Miss Felicity ordered you some medicine…”

Magda waved the maid off without a word, and she heard a light click as the maid put down a metal tray on her bed stand. Magda plugged her nose as she drank the liquid. Only for her face to unclench. It wasn’t...terrible…

It definitely tasted just slightly off, but nothing Magda couldn't stomach. She remembered the sludge of medicine that she used to choke down in the slums. Whatever it was usually worked if you managed to get a whole sip of it down without throwing it up seconds later. That horrid medicine, awful as it was, was cheap and usually came in big bottles. It was one of the only ways a girl at the bottom could have her cheap thrills without feeling like death was at her door the next day.

Magda felt her body surge with energy after getting the medicine down. Her head ache faded as a few minutes past.  She breathed heavily as she curled back in her bed, this time being able to fully relax in the morning sun.

About an hour past before Magda heard the door open.

“Hey, Magda. Good news,” Felicity walked into Magda’s room and smiled at her brightly.

“Let’s hear it.”

“You have the whole day to yourself, mostly anyway. Ivan wants to meet up with you today.”

“Ah...where?”

“So, there’s this greenhouse….”

Despite the winter cold, the greenhouse was warm. Magda was nearly sweating from the heat, even though she wore one of her lighter winter dresses. Which still shielded her from the cold outside, but didn’t scorch her the second she stepped indoors.

‘I’ll have to get some summer dresses before spring hits,’ Magda thought to herself as she paced near the rose bushes.

“Hello, my lady. I’m glad you came.” A voice boomed from behind her

“Ah! Ivan! You came!” Magda turned around and greeted Ivan.

“Uhm….Magda...I-I wish I would’ve known you were a noble… I would’ve treated you better..”

“What? You were always kind to me, what do you mean? Anyway...what even happened to you? You just got up and vanished one day!”

Ivan smiled a bit as he remembered something...

It was him ,far younger than he was today, quietly packing his bags, looking out of the windows every so often. Hoping to see Magda just one last time before he had to leave. The silence of his family home broke everything inside of him down to a sliver of resistance. A once lively household reduced to a mere shell. Death and debt plagued his family. It had not helped that his father…..

“I’m sorry Magda,” Ivan said to the blonde girl in front of him, “My family. Well it wasn’t stable. At all,really.”

“Ah! I’m sorry I-”

“Nope, don’t worry. You’re fine ,my lady.”

“Ivan, just call me Magda. You know me.”

“Magda, I’m sorry. We don’t really know each other anymore.”

Magda felt her shoulders drop, and hints of anger building in her voice.

“Ivan, what do you mean? I’m the same Magda I was back then. Nothing changed.”

“I mean...you’re….” As much as Ivan wanted to say something else...something nicer he couldn’t, “You’re a nobility now.” “Does..that change anything?” Magda could hear her voice rising despite her attempts to keep her cool.

“No...I mean, yeah kinda. My lady, I’d love to remeet you.”

Magda’s anger burned into a blush as he smiled at her. Ivan looked at her blush.

“You blush at everything.”

“I do not!”

“You always did! Even as a kid if a boy ,or a girl for that matter, even smiled you blushed like a tomato. I remember you and Alan. Lovebirds.”

“We were nothing of the sort! What about you and that oren girl! Now you two were real lovers.”

“Coco and I were nothing more than friends-”

“Most of the time,” Magda pulled a fan out and covered her mouth to chuckle.

Ivan blushed and pulled the fan away from Magda’s face.

“Your cute Magda, Don’t cover your smiles.”

Pink? No, Now magda’s face was bright red at this point. 

“Don’t make fun of me!”

Felicity looked down as she watched Magda return from her visit with Ivan. She felt her heart grow with some sick disgusting feeling. A growing void overtook her heart and left her chest empty.

“Oh, Felicity! It was amazing! He is just the same as I remember!” Magda hugged her friend tightly, “I’m so happy right now! You planned it all out for me. I-I I could kiss you right now!”

Those words struck Felicity’s heart hard. She forced a smile ,and hugged her …friend? 

“Always, Magda. I’m always here for a pal!”

“I can see that! I owe you a big favor!”

“I’m not a debtor Magda, You keep your favor for now.”

“Ah...Felicity haven’t seen you here in awhile,” One of the many nobles Felicity had become... acquainted with greeted her. He held his hand out.

“No, not again. Do me a favor and leave.”

“Come on Fel~ We all know you can’t do much better than me. Why not?” He purred as he reached for her hand.

“Do you want to get punched again, I’m really not in the mood for this.” Felicity said as she stood up from her chair, the piece of furniture made an ungodly squeal as she moved it aside.

Felicity made her way out of the Tavern. She wasn’t in the mood for...him.  She never was in the mood for him anyway.

‘I only got with him because I thought he was cool! It was nothing bigger than that!’

 Her fist clenched as she started down the dark streets of Finsel. 

Felicity’s confidence drained from her, her gotty make-up along with a shirt that barely covered her breasts and definitely didn’t cover her stomach once made her feel on top of the world, now it was only a reminder of everything she wasn’t. She was a noblewoman, she had more money than she really needed, and she even had the illusion of a family. She lacked almost everything else, confidence, beauty, a nice voice… She looked down at her body. The one thing she lacked now was true freedom.

She quickly began to speed walk home. She heard the distant whirrings of machines, and horses hooves clicking on the cobblestone roads.

“Ms. Ellenstein?”

As soon as Felicity heard the voice she quickly turned around. It was Alan. The blondie from the guards.

 “You scared me! Don’t do that!”

“Aren’t you cold? It’s the middle of winter…”

“Nah, it’s all good. I’m just heading home.”

Felicity felt comfortable around Blondie. She never felt his eyes drift away from her face or eyes. No matter how seductive she thought she looked he never looked at her as anything other than a noblewoman.

“Alan, why are you even out here?”

“Just...patrolling..” Alan’s eyes went to the road for a few seconds.

“Bull. I know you’re up to something. Come on! What is it?”

Alan reached into his pockets and brought something shining out of it. 

“M-Ms. Magda left her earrings at the last ball! I wanted to return them to her…”

“You sure you didn’t steal them?”

“I-I would never! Felicity please understand-”

Ivan failed to listen to the rest of the conversation. All his thoughts were about those earrings….

“Ah, the two Ellenstein sisters, how lovely!” Ivan cheered as he handed Felicity a drink and at least tried to give one to Magda.

“Thank you, Ivan. I uh...learned my lesson.”

Ivan smiled a bit, as he put the drink back on the plate he was carrying. Felicity gave Ivan a small wink as he departed, he winked back.

“What was that all about?” Magda asked.

“Nothing, I just like the drinks he gives.”

“I’m talking about all the winking. I’m not as naive as you think I am.”

“Ah, well he’s growing on you isn’t he?”

“W-what?”

“He’s not just a friend is he?”

“Huh!? We are just friends. Nothing more nothing less.”

“I have a hard time believing that, Magda.”

“Well, I don’t have any feelings for him. He’s very sweet, but…. I can’t see him as anything more than a friend.”

“You’ve gone on what? One date? It may change!”

“Felicity...I already…”

“Whoa whoa there! Who is it! Girl code! Girl Code!”

“You already have it narrowed down to two.”

“If it’s not Ivan it’s either Alan or Xavier. Alan, isn’t it? I don’t even think you’ve met Xavier yet he’s been gone for like 3 months.”

“Yes..” Magda blushed a little bit as she knew Alan was going to be at this ball.

“Oh, Don’t be embarrassed! Every noblewoman or noble thinks he’s at least a little cute!”

“I actually knew him before I was brought into the Ellenstein family.”

‘Brought in?’ Lynna thought as she hid behind a wall, obscuring her from being caught and humiliated by the Ellenstein sisters.

‘Magda acts as if she’s nothing but a stray dog.. I need to find giulolo. She’ll know more about this.’

The green lady walked away in search of the redheaded Oren girl. As much as she didn’t want to admit it, she knew those Ellensteins were becoming more and more prestigious. They had even been invited to the senate in just one year. It had been over a year since Magda was found, and Lynna still found it all too convenient. How on earth did Eliza find her twin in such a place as Finsel? There was no way that after over 10 years of searching they just happened across her while looking for a maid.

‘There’s no way...not a single way! Magda is a fraud! I know it!’

Lynna walked around the overly crowded ballrooms. People seemed to be shoulder to shoulder, she put her arms to work and started pushing people away from her. The small Redhead was already speaking to somebody. A blonde girl whose name Lynna didn’t care to know, and never would. 

“Giulolo, a moment,” Lynna demanded as she hip-checked the blonde girl away.

“Ah, Miss Lynna, what do you need Giulolo for?”

The blonde girl protested at Lynna.

“You have no right to shove me away!” the noblewoman pointed her finger in Lynna’s face

“Quiet! Little noble! Now leave, you aren’t wanted here!”

The blonde huffed as she sashayed away from Lynna. Even a lower noble knew that it wasn’t worth the battle for an oren’s attention.

“Well, Giulolo. How much do you know about this...Magda Ellenstein?”

“Well, she was born to unknown parents-”

“I knew it!” Lynna had already began to celebrate in her head.

“Who was then revealed to be Eliza Ellenstein when she turned-”

“Get to the point, Oren!”

“Ah! Miss Lynna is scary… Well uhm… she grew up in the slums after being kidnapped and now she’s returned to her family.”

“There has to be some more information! Anything!”

“Unfortunately, since Magda was kidnapped and grew up in the slums Giulolo has little to no information on her… She did wear some earrings that-”

“Ugh! I don’t care about her stupid earrings!” Lynna whined as she walked off without saying goodbye to the Oren girl.

‘I’m gonna find out what’s up with Magda. She isn’t a noble! She can’t be!’

Magda’s dress spun in the wind that blew through the ballroom. She looked like a rose in full bloom. Alan wasn’t the only person to take notice of it. He saw a few others looking in her direction.  He knew he wasn’t the only man who thought about her, but in a bad way of course!

“That Magda girl really is a beauty!” One nobleman said as he smiled towards her.

Alan didn’t flinch at these comments even a single bit. They were true after all. She was the true beauty of Finsel. At least to Alan she was, anyway.

“Imagine being her. All that attention! Must be nice!” A noble woman walked down the stairs said to her, probably, sister.

That comment didn’t phase him either. It really must be nice being nobility….

“Hm… imagine that. Being so pretty, and yet so naive ...” One man looked at Magda with strange eyes that Alan was all too familiar with. 

Those words made him perk up slightly. It wouldn’t be the first time he had to kick somebody out of a ball,but more or less he was curious about what they were going to say about her..

The man looked over at a boy who had to be around Alan’s age if not a bit younger. The boy looked up at his brother? More likely his father, but still.

“How to you feel about her?”

“I uhm…” The boy shuffled uncomfortably, “She’s kinda pretty I guess?”

“Listen kid, she’s the talk of Finsel right now. You have to at least try to make a move on her before it’s too late!”

“But she’s older than me…”

The talk between the two kept going for a few minutes before Alan tuned out of it. It wasn’t every day that Alan took advice from a complete stranger, but he came to learn that they sometimes are smarter than the playboy Alan used to go to for advice.

“Lynna, go to sleep.”

“Mother, this is important!”

“DID I STUTTER?! I won’t have you seen with peasants! You’ve made enough of a name for yourself today!”

Lynna flinched at Tilla’s words. She raised her hands to her face for a second. 

“N-no...I-”

“Don’t even continue. If you have bags under your eyes tomorrow ...”

Before Tilla could finish her sentence Lynna was under her covers and curled up.

“Good,” Tilla shut the door loud enough to shake the windows.

‘If I’m quiet enough I can sneak out of here…’ 

The night was dark and frozen, but Lynna felt the heat of both hatred and curiosity in her head. She discarded her nightgown in favor of a slightly warmer coat and gown. The gown was brown, all Lynna would have to do would be to steal an apron from a servant. That would be easy enough. Her footsteps were near silent down the hallways and stairs. All she needed to do was-

“My lady, what are you doing up so late?” 

Lynna’s heart jumped then softened as she saw her favorite person, her servant….

“Shh! Quiet, I-I have a favor to ask of you Lawrence.”

“Anything, My gorgeous radiant star-”

“I need you to get me an apron, don’t ask! Just go grab one and hurry back. I ca- I can..make it worth your while, I promise!”

“Lynna, you don’t owe me a-”

“Lawrence! Just go.”

In just a few minutes Lawrence returned with an apron. It was dirtied with mud and stained with something reddish...

“I’m sorry I could not find a clean-”

“Perfect!” Lynna snatched it from his hands and strapped it around her waist. She pulled Lawrence down her his level and kissed his cheek before disappearing into the darkness of the hallways leading to the front door. She felt a small spark in her heart afterward.

‘Perfect now all I need to do is-’ She paused, she snuck out of the house.

She did something her mother could not stop.. She escaped….