#(don't think too hard about the horse or where the stables would go. this is an au'ified nyc)

[honeyhobies]

🔀 and punkflower?

work til the mornin' - amira unplugged, lexie hayden — cowboy au

but keep them in NYC - just a strong horseriding community where the stables are on the outskirts and the horses are a welcome regularity in the city.

miles has long become a fixture of brooklyn with his horse, spider. and she is beautiful, a black snowflake appaloosa whose lighter speckles seem to shine almost chestnut in direct sunlight; appreciative whistles often reserved for impressive sports cars follow in her wake as she clops down the sidewalks. spider probably knows the streets of brooklyn better than anyone, has a propensity to nuzzle the heads of children and teasingly nip at the hoods on unsuspecting passersby—and even, if the rumors are to be believed, is no stranger to stopping the occasional crime under miles' expert direction.

she's loved, he's loved, and there's an unspoken truth that if anything were to happen to either of them brooklyn would go on the charge in their name.

hobie's not from brooklyn, or nyc. he ends up in the city out of necessity when a friend's couch opens up and he can make an escape from his past. so when he spends his first weekend there walking around to get his bearings of this new place, he's stunned by the number of horses that seem to just...blend in. there's relatively little reaction from the crowds, they seem to navigate around the horses like it's second-nature, and hobie is intrigued. where he's from, seeing this many horses means needing to make a trip out to the countryside.

where he's from, the people with horses within city limits only belonged to cops. not freely in the hands of new york city residents.

he wants to know everything about these horses. eventually, he gleans from someone who didn't take one look at his spiked vest and narrow their eyes where the stables are, and hobie doesn't wait, he goes that night to check it out. get a better glimpse of what this club's about, check out the horses on his own time, and—

sue him. that pretty speckled black horse looked like she fell in love with him just as much as he did. it's not his fault that the padlocks on the stables are rusty enough to break easily, or that she was all too willing to be led out to the ring and mounted by someone with zero riding experience. nor is it his fault that when she reared up onto her hind legs that hobie didn't know where to grab on that wouldn't hurt her, and thus fell off onto an arm that apparently is just as easy to break as a padlock.

it is, admittedly, his fault that the first thing he did when the fuming owner stomped up to him the next time he shows his face at the stables was ask for the horse's name, the guy's name, and his phone number, in that order, before thinking to apologize.

(uncle aaron knows something miles doesn't know, he's sure of it. bc he otherwise can't figure out why his uncle would offer hobie a chance to join the club, as well as offer miles up as his partner.)

((the first thing miles does is throw hobie a shovel. if nothing else, at least he's going to be off cleaning duty for awhile.))

send me a 🔀 and a pairing, get an au ask game!

[heyhihellosworld]

𝐀𝐧𝐲𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐟𝐨𝐫 𝐲𝐨𝐮

Trent Alexander-Arnold x reader

Word count: 6.2k

Summary: Trent would do everything for his daughter even if it's out of his comfort-zone but maybe something, or someone can make it more bearable.

Warnings: Single parent, talk about non-present parents, horses, angst, smut, fluff, dad!trent, young pregnancy (19/20)

Notes: I don't know but this idea just came to me randomly when I was in the stables and I just find it funny to see these out of place parents, especially dads so yeah. Random but fun to write

Being a single parent wasn't always easy. Trent found it hard to be as present as possible, to spend as much time with his daughter as he wanted and still succeed in his football career. It took a lot of time, effort and help but he managed well, being the best dad possible and still develop in his football. It took a toll on him but he wouldn't trade it for the world.

Since he had been a little kid football had been his life, his goal and the only thing that mattered. For so long it was all that consumed his life, until Ella came along. It was never the plan, never his intention after the one-night stand he'd had but it happened and after a rocky year he had full custody of his baby.

After that his priorities changed because he was no longer alone, he couldn't be selfish anymore, he couldn't think about himself because he had a little girl at home. A little girl relying on him for food, comfort and love and suddenly, she was what mattered the most.

Less to say Trent didn't have a lot of free-time, already juggling more than the time could wrap up but he didn't really miss anything, he felt complete. The only thing he sometimes missed was dating. Going out was nowadays almost impossible, even though his brothers and parents tried to help out and babysit as much as they could he didn't feel fine with leaving her in their responsibility too long knowing they already helped out more than they should. Trent hadn't dated someone in what felt like years nor had he gotten any action regurarly. He didn't mind it, but he could miss it some days. Not only the sex but the social life outside of his work. That's why it felt like a blessing when Ella got older and he had to engage in some of her free-time activities. It wasn't like before of course, this was mothers and fathers with their kids not drunk idiots in a club in some VIP-room. But it was still some kind of social life, some people he could talk to and sometimes hang out with outside of the footballpitch.

For him it was obvious she would play football. It was what he'd anticiapated for a long time but the little girl said no. She didn't wanna play football, she wanted to take horseback-lessons, and as the nice father he was he didn't pressure her into anything but said ok, she would get to take her horse-riding lessons if that was what made her happy.

The four-year old was over-joyed, not Trent. He was as far away from his comfort zone he could imagine when he stepped onto the yard with his estatic daughter. It was muddy and bloody cold but he didn't say anything, just smiled at Ella who blabbered away.

Anything for her

It was all he repeated in his head to get himself to not jump into the car again.

He could hear his teammates laughing in his head as he stood in the small house which apparently was called the club-house. When he had told them about his daughters wish he had got his head nagged in with teasing, but hey, anything for her.

He got informed of how it worked, where the list was, where the different buildings were located, how he handled the horse, that he'd have to fix it up before riding.

He nodded along pretending he understood just fine before walking after Ella as she hurried into the stable. The smell was the first thing that hit him, then the horses. What the fuck was he doing here, why hadn't he asked somebody who knew something about this to take her? Well probably because she had been so excited for him to come along.

"Look, look!" Ella prompted, grinning from ear to ear as she pointed to one of the horses "Which one am I having? Which one daddy?"

Trent shook his head "Uh, what was his name? Mons?" "Monty!"

Trent hummed, nodding as they walked along the line of horses, "Here it is" he told her and she squealed with excitement at the tiny, fat little horse that stood in the box, glaring at them from inside.

Trent stood a few meters away as one of the people who helped out in the stables showed Elle how to tack up. He could feel the stares as he tried to look at what they were doing, trying to memorize but nah, it was too much stuff. Ella almost bounced on the spot as everything was ready, Trent yet to touch the horse that was still glaring at them.

-

Trent sat on the cold tree stand as he watched his daughter wiggle around on the horse. If it wasn't for the biggest smile on her face he would've tried to talk her into something else but he couldn't, and it didn't matter how bitter he felt. He would have to learn and show up, put on his well practiced fake-smile, for her.

-

"Are you really Trent Alexander-Arnold?"

The sound of his name made him look up, taken aback by the mention. He hadn't even thought about being spotted or recognised here which he of course should have.

"Eh, I am" he choke before he even located the woman who spoke but when he did he felt like his choked reply was just right. Before him stood a beautiful woman, she didn't look like a mom, for sure not. She looked about his age, maybe a year or so younger than him.

She was absolutely stunning, her beutiful face held a warm and almost teasing expression. Eyes glimmering, like she was mocking him for his whereabouts.

"Wow" she hummed, sitting down next to him so naturally it almost made him envy her confidence. "So what in the world brings the famous footballer to the stables?" She asked, seemingly unbothered but the smirk she tried to hide leaked through, making him pull a grimace at her.

"Well, my daughter wanted to take horseback-lessons... so I took her to do it, silently hoping she wouldn't like it but now I guess this is my new place to be" he muttered and she chuckled softly "That's sweet of you"

Trent shrugged his shoulders, looking over at her as she sat so casually but still looked so elegant and beautiful. "What about you?" "Well I also happen to have a daughter who loves this stinky hole" she hummed, peeking his interest even more "Really?" he questioned, his eyes full of interest as she hummed "yeah, why?"

"No no I just... you look young to be a mother" he revealed, pulling a smile from her "thank you, I guess. But I was young when I got her" she admitted, making Trent nod along "How old are you?"

"23" she answered shortly making him hum "And what's your name?"

She chuckled, giving him a loopsided smile as she raised one eyebrow "Why are you so interested?"

Trent shrugged "I just am, you're not gonna tell me your name?"

"Y/n, it's y/n" she answered politely, a silence settling over the two as they watched their children try to lead the horse in the right direction.

--

It had been a stressful afternoon for you, hurrying home after work to make it in time to Amelies riding-lesson. But you'd made it, not quite on time but good enough.

Amelies riding lessons was nothing you'd been too big of a fan of, not only because you knew nothing about horses but also because it was darn expensive. But of course you couldn't say no to your precious daughter when she so sweetly asked you, so now you found yourself on this tree bench every week, looking as your daughter held the biggest smile on her face, and it felt worth it.

"I don't mean to be forward" you voiced quietly after a few moments, "It's fine" he hummed, turning his attention to you, bracing himself for what he knew was coming.

He was even more beautiful face to face, so close up, than on the tv-screen and you still had a hard time realizing it was actually the football player sitting next to you on the stable stand.

You had of course read gossip sites and rumors about him and his daughter, some saying he was indeed secretly married and other saying it was a failed one-night stand leading him to be a single parent. You didn't know what it was but you were intrigued.

"Are you married?"

Your question didn't surprise him, his eyes fleeting back from watching the group to you again. "Well-no"

"No?"

He shook his head, curls flying all over the place, your face told him you wanted to know more and he gave in, he knew darn well about all the rumours flying around about him and his daughter, and especially about the mother. "I am not married. Me and Ella's mother is not in any committed relationship. In fact it was a one night stand, ending up in her calling me and telling me she was pregnant and after a long hard time she pulled out, and I am now a single parent"

You hummed "is her mother in the picture at all?"

"Rarely, whenever it suits her" he shrugged, not really understanding why he told you all this. "What about you?" You chuckled bitterly "Nah, I was in a relationship when I got pregnant, but like I said I was young, barely 19 and our relationship was as serious as they are at that age so when things got real he bailed"

"So, do you have any contact?"

"No, I haven't really heard from him since I told him I was pregnant, I forced him to meet her once" you told him bitterly, the air tensing but you didn't mind and neither did he. It was nothing secretive and something you both had moved on from so talking about it felt like a natural part of an introduction because it was a big part of who you were, big part of your families.

When the short lesson was over Ella was bouncing as she ran up to Trent. You stood next to him, waiting for Amelie whilst continuing to small-talk. You couldn't help but smile as he kneeled down to scoop her up in his arms with the brightest smile. "Did you enjoy it princess?"

"I love it! Thank you daddy" he chuckled as he let her down again "Of course sweetie, are you all done now so we can go home and cook?"

You watched as the little girl nodded before looking away, Trent saw it aswell "It's okay, we can stay a little longer" he smiled at her shy look making her face lit up again "I just wanna say bye to my friends" she replied, kissing his cheek before running up the small bump into the stables again.

You felt like pouting at the sweet interaction but stopped from it seeing they were strangers and it would probably put him off. "She is really adorable" you smiled as he stood up again, smiling small.

"Thank you"

"Have you been here for a long time?"

"Here?"

"Have your daughter been riding for a long time?" he corrected making you hum "Well nah not that long, a couple of months" you answered. More than that wasn't said and it felt like a small relief when both of your daughters came running down from the stable giggling, breaking the sudden awkvard tension. You smiled at your daughter, her hapiness making you happy.

"Mommy, did you see?!" she squeeled as she raised her arms as a sign for you to lift her up which you did with a grin. "I did see, you were really good today" you smiled, loving her happy face as she bubbled with hapiness, all giddy.

You put her down when she started to wriggle, packing down all the things in your stable-bag. "Mom"

"Yeah" you hummed "Do you think I can play with Ella some day?"

You looked up, smiling softly as you paused "I'm sure we could fix something some time" you promised making her smile again, breaking away from the small shy energy. You could see that she was tired, even though she was blabbering and bouncing the tiredness started to droop onto her.

When she yawned you chucled, picking her up which she gladly accepted, snuggling into your shoulder.

You waved goodbye at Trent who smiled your way before stropping Amelie in the car to drive home.

Since that first time in the stables Trent and Ella went every week, every week coming to seek you out, ask you about your week and how you'd been since last time.

What in the beginning was a dreadful day for Trent slowly started to become an enjoyful one. You liked the stables just fine but it didn't get worse by seeing Trent.

Whenever he wasn't there it was a huge disapointment, something you were all to aware of.

He had became a good friend, your daughters spending time outside of the stables as well which prompted you to meet more than once a week.

The attraction was there, always but of course you never went with it since the kids were around and dating with a kid or even more so sleeping around whilst having a kid was not something you found appropriate or fair for her at the moment so you didn't do anything, didn't say anything and if he felt the same way he didn't say it.

You learnt more and more for every time you met and got more and more smitten. You understood why everybody was fawning over him so bad. You'd always liked him on the pitch, enjoyed watching him play but this was something completely different than that.

It was a sunday you realized how smitten you actually was with the guy. He had suggested to meet up for the kids to play so you could watch football together. It was United against City so the expectations where high as you sat in your sofa together. The girls in Amelies room playing.

He had been such a softie, resting his hand on your thigh as you sat closer than appropriate, conversing and laughing about the game. He told you stories about himself, about Ella and it was all so soft.

His eyes had been warm and he had been so sweet, cooking all of you lunch and helping you fix the new coffee table you hadn't put together yet. It had felt so domestic and it had made you realize how much you actuallly liked the guy.

But you hadn't spoken a word about it. It was too complicated to get involved with anyone. No man had gotten introduced to Amelie except from her dad but other than that you had stayed far away from that part of you. Only ever being with someone when Amelie wasn't home.

It was a delicate matter with kids and you didn't want to risk anything, plus, you had no idea if Trent even liked you in the slightest so you just kept your mouth shut, enjoying what was now.

A rare evening without Amelie or work was spent out. You were still young, still enjoying the thrill of a good club with friends so the bar was the place to go.

Your best friend begged to go to this new open bar, more similar to an night-club than bar but you didn't mind.

The first hour was spent upstairs in one of the more reserved booths, drinking and gossiping, spilling the recent tea and of coure the main topic was Trent.

She was dying to hear about it and you were dying to telll her. "No way he said that" she gasped, clapping her hands "Wow you go y/n, this is honestly wild"

You giggled, swallowing the rest of your drink "I know"

"What's next then? You almost kissed in his car and now?" "Now nothing" you sighed, shaking your head "What do you mean nothing"

"I mean that I haven't heard of him since then"

"Well text him then!" she exclaimed "I dont know" "Oh come on y/n you gotta do it, you are so smitten by him already and you never meet anyone"

"Lets drop this topic for tonight" you decided, sweeping the hard parts under the rug for now.

"Fine, let's go down and get the party started for real" she beamed sensing not to push you further right now.

"Yes please"

She giggled, hooking your arm with hers as you went down the sketchy stair to the club area, the night club you needed.

-

You were deep in your cups which was why you weren't sure if you actually saw who you thought you did or if you were hallucinating

"Y/n! Is that Trent??" your friend gaped making you realize it was actaully Trent and you gigggled, pulling her along with you as you tripped up to him, facing him with a bright smile

He was with a couple of friends, some you would probably recognize if it wasn't for the slight womble in your head

"Y/n??"

Trent eyed you up and down with a giant smirk, sensing your drunkness but he too were deep in his cups, immidiately dragging both you and your friend to their table.

"What are you doing here?" he asked, handing you another drink and pulling you to sit on his lap as there was limited space on the table he and a couple of his friends shared. Your friend immideately hitting it off with some of them.

"I have a rare night out" you grinned

"How convinient, I have to" he revealed, squeezing your thigh where your short dress had ridden up.

"How convinient" you smirked right back at him, your eyes dropping down to his lips a little too often

It wan't long until you couln't resist the urge to kiss him anymore. The clear part of our head would probably stop it right now because it was compliacted, you had Amelie, you couldn't just date around and bring people here and there but the rational part of your brain wasn't working right at the moment. Only wanting some sort of normality, some sort of attention tonight and Trent gladly gave it to you, so you took it.

The soft kiss turned heated, passionate and neeedy, hands grasping desperately at each other as your turned around on his lap. Only when the people around you started to make noises did you break apart for the moment, enjoying the night on his lap, his mouth on yours and hands caressing you whenever the moment allowed it. It was something completely different like this, when the kids wasn't around, when neither of you had to take the parent role, when you both were deep in your cups and didn't hold back. It was something completely different but so relieving.

--

He asked you out, actually asked you out. Not asking for a playdate with the kids, no. Alone, with you and it felt like the nerves would explode. You had met him for months now but it felt different after the bar meeting.

It had been heated, promising more than just parents of two friends. No, that had showed you he wanted more as well. The kisses shared, the touches ad the late, drunken question to come home with him. It all indicated that he wanted more of whatever it was between you.

You read his text again. You had agreeed on dinner in his flat. Neither of you wanted to do something public. Still it felt nerve-wracking. You hadn't been at his place before, always at yours for various reasons.

You hadn't gone home with him that night but what if he wanted something in that way tonight`?

did you want anything like that? Hell yes

How did you act with him, alone? Without being drunk

What do you wear to something like this?

You had no idea

After what felt like forever you finally emerged from your car outside of his complex, wearing sweats and a hoodie as he had told you after asking and making your way inside.

It was darn expensive, exclusive, luxaury celebrity building. You felt hella out of place, not only because of your clothes as you got escorted up to his floor. The secod you saw him though, it felt okay. The smile twinkling in his eyes as he welcomed you inside.

-

"This feels a bit weird" you smiled, sitting on his big comfy sofa. Stretching out your tired body on the comfortable furnitor.

Trent chuckled, pursing his lips "Well"

"Not bad" you promised "But weird, I'm not used to be alone with you. It's always the girls or the horny mums"

At that Trent couldn't contain his laughter "Horny mums?"

"Yeah you should hear them talk" you scoffed, shaking your head at them.

"I do, trust me" he chuckled, plopping down next to you in the sofa with two glasses of wine. "I just choose to ignore them most of the time" he smiled, handing you one of the glasses.

Your eyebrows raised as you turned to him with an unimpressed look "most of the times?"

"Well yeah, I mean I did not ignore you, did I?" he teased, showing his beutiful smile. Your eyes rolled "no but I'm not talking about how hot it would be to be fucked by a footballer or how perfect your back looks to scratch"

"Why don't you though?"

You choke on the wine you sipped, spluttering it out in your lap as you tried to contain yourself with laughter You looked at him deadpan, "you want me to?"

His shoulders shrugged and his face pulled a grimace, smirking at your flustered state "I wouldn't mind it"

"Really?" you hummed, looking at him from under your lashes while sipping your wine. Gaining your confidenece back "Oh Trent, I wanna scratch your back while you fuck me so hard" you ironized with a high-pitched voice.

Trent laughed, raising his glass towards you "Take away the irony and we are home"

You couldn't help but give him a bright smile, leaning your head towards him before straightening up to do your real performance. His eyes followed you amusedly as he watched you clear your throat before you repeated "Oh Trent, I wanna scratch your back while you fuck me so hard" but only this time you tried to make it sound real, moaning out the words with an additional moan afterwards.

Trent's amused face dropped slightly as you smirked at him "Better?" "Mhm" he nodded, giving you an impressed look "Wow, that's actually wild" he hummed causing you to laugh at him, shaking your head at his dramatics "That explains how you women are so good at faking things"

You hummed, nodding "Sure but you can hear a clear difference from an fake moan and a real moan"

Trent hummed, pouting his lips in thought "well sure"

You pursued tour lips "Do you know the differences?" Trent shrugged "Sometimes, I think most of the times I can tell"

"Have someone ever really faked it with you?" you giggled, "Sure" Trent chuckled, internaly palming himself for revealing that to you.

"Why?" "I don't bloody know, I guess they didn't like it?"

You laughed "Oh poor Trent, are you not that talented in bed?"

He only scoffed, giving you a face that only made you laugh harder "I'm sure am talented enough"'

You giggled, crawling closer to him before settling in his lap. It didn't feel weird, you had been in this position before. You wanted to take it one step further, wanted to be with him.

"What if I need proof?" you whispered, your voicie low and all serious as he swallowed, giving you a heated gaze "Well I think we can fix that, don't you think?" "I was hoping" you smirked, immediately atttacking his lips with yours.

His hands fell on your ass, pulling you closer as your hands tangled in his curls.

Screw all the complicated shit, screw all responsibilites. You would fix it all later, talk it all through later. This wasn't bound to change anything, except it was. You felt more than you wanted to admit.

Screw the feelings, you needed him right now and he felt the same.

His hands started to undress you, flinging your hoodie off and you let him but when his hands left your boobs and started to tease your underwear you stopped him.

"Hey" you mumbled, immideately grabbing his attention, brown eyes searching yours for any signs that he'd crossed the line.

You gently stroke his neck, smiling at his attentive expression. "Did I do something?" he asked softly, relief filling his body as you shook your head. "No no, I just-" you began, looking away from his intense gaze

"What?" he murmured, gently angling your face so that you looked at him again.

Your face felt warm as he looked at you "I-I just haven't had sex in.... forever" you admited shyly

"Forever? you do have a kid, right?"

You giggled loving how he tried to ease the embarrsament as your lips graced his shoulder. "A year" you clarified, looking away from his face as he raised his eyebrows in supriese "Really, wow I feel like i've been in a dryspell forever but a year... I would've alredy have cum now"

You giggled again, hiding your embaressment in admitting this to your lext lay but Trent was different. It wasn't just some hook-up, it was Trent. Someone you already had found a liking towards. Someone you felt comfortable with and trusted, someone you didn't feel embarrassed around.

He kept a loving smile on his face, kissing your cheek sweetly before speaking again. "It's nothing, as long as you want this we can take it as slowly as you want to and if you don't, we don't" he mumbled softly against the soft skin of your shoulder.

"I want to, just... take it slow" you breathed out, his head noddding in recognition as he continued his ministrations on your neck and collarbone. Leaving marks like a teenager would on your sensitive skin. It made you giggle, plafully pushing him away but he just gave you his millon-dollar grin and continued, knowing you liked it.

You started to ease into it. Not feeling as stiff anymore as you moved your body against his, making him let out an apreciative sound. "Yeah?" he mumbled, a word so short but still so hot to hear from his lips.

His hand creeped down your sweatpants, gently teasing the hem of your underwear, tripping under the waistband only to crawl back up. It was all a part of his slow show and you started to realise what you had really asked him.

You kissed him sweetly, passionately but soft. Searching his mouth with yours, hands grasping on his broad shoulders, slowly creeping down to finally feel his gorgously sexy abs.

His breath fanned your jaw as he watched your face every movement, only slipping his hand into your panties for real when you made strong eye-contact with him, pleadig with your eyes for him to keep going.

And keep going he did, finally lettig his fingers stroke over your swollen clit. His fingers moved expertisely, knowing exactly where it would feel the best and where to be to drive your mind absolutely crazy and needy.

He was so focused on your face as you let him play with you, enjoying it way to much to ever ask him to stop.

When your mind started to function again you let your hand slip under the waistband of his calvins. Quickly wrapping around his hard dick to give him some attention as well. Too soaked up in your own for quiet some time already.

He didn't complain, his eyes closing briefly and a hard breath escaping his open lips as you stroked him firmly. Trying to focus on him whilst he brought you to the edge, slipping two fingers inside of you.

Your body had gotten completely loose now. Moving on it's own accord, not caring anymore, not controlled by nerves but pleasure.

He could see exactly when your orgasm started to climb to it's top. Not daring to stop as your voice pleaded him not to. Your hand stopped aroud his dick, unable to focus as your orgasm washed over you. The sounds you let out fell deaf on your own ears, not to Trent's who only got harder as your body shook, fingers slowly retreating as you came down. Not wanting to overstimulate you at this state.

"Okay?" he smiled softly, the giggle you let out sounded free and happy "more than okay" you smiled, leaning up to kiss his lips lovingly. Hand resuming it's pace on his hard cock.

Soon enough you tugged at his boxers, wanting them off, wanting him inside of you.

He let you do what you wanted, helping to take off his boxers as he helped you out of your sweatpants. His hands gently cupped your breasts over your brah as you looked at each other. "You sure you want this?" he hummed, needing the consent "Yes, you?" you hummed back softly, "All I wanted to do since I first saw you" he consented, bringing a smile on your lips as he guided his tip to your entrance.

He rubbed oer your sensitive nerves, giving you time to relax again from the initional reaction to feeling his dick against the place you wanted him.

"Relax yeah?" he hummed softly, kissing over your chest, smiling against your skin as you complied. Relaxing your body against the soft material.

He fially pushed the tip in, your breath catching in your throat at the stretch. His lips a nice distraction, your arms wrapping around his shoulders as he kissed you passionately. Breathing in and swallowing your sounds.

It felt like an enternity until he finally stopped, fully inside you. You panted against his lips, trying to take in the feeling of complete blizz.

Fuck you had missed this

"Move" you breathed, his hips immediately following your words as he slowly started to thrust inside of you. Taking it slow as promised but it felt just as good as anything else. It wasn't about fucking the life out of you, it would be time for that later. No this was about connecting, making eachother feel pleasure and love and wow did he manage well.

You felt like all you could do was moan and whine, your body writhing on the soft cushions as he gave you all he had, rolling his hips into yours, filling you completely with each deep thrust.

He reached places you didn't even remembered you could or knew. It felt like you were floating on a cloud as his mouth found your skin again.

"Fuck I'm sorry" he breathed harshly on your jaw as he kissed his way up

"What?"

"I-I'm gonna cum" he breathed making you giggle out a moan "Fuck do it"

His fingers found your clit, gently stroking the sensitive nub as he quickened his pace slightly. His hips started to jerk as he got closer to his release, soon coming to an complete stop as he came, taking you with him in the blizz.

It felt like you blacked out. Letting your eyes fall close as he slipped of to the bathroom, helping you clean up and change clothes to sleep. He didn't bother making you brush your teeth or go to the toilet. You were already half-asleep so he just crawled down into the bed again. Kissing your shoulder and whispering soft praise for you as you drifted off to sleep in his comfortbale bed and warm embrace.

--

Awkvardness settled in your body as you looked down on the steeming hot cup of coffe he'd just handed you.

He looked as free as a bird, not an ounce of regret or questionmarks visable in the way he moved around the kitchen

You didn't regret it but now the hard conversation were bound to happen, the conversation you'd dreaded since you started to feel something about him. But again, he didn't look cornered at all, he looked the oposite to you and that also made you question this, question his feelings.

It wasn't long until he broke the silence, turning to you with an look you couldn't really decide if it was scolding, angry or amused. Maybe something inbetween it all.

"Why are you awkvard?"

He popped the question, just like that, cornered you even more than you already felt as you squirmed on the tall bar stool you sat on at his kitchen island.

"I'm not" you tried but he only chuckled, giving you a soft smile. "This dosen't have to be as hard as you make it out in your head"

"I dosen't?" you half mocked him but he stood his ground, shaking his head "No, it dosen't. I really like you" he stated, like it was the easiest thing ever to say

"And I think you like me too so what's the problem? Our kids already love eachother so why just not take it slowly, ease into it with them, keep it on the low, see eachother more and then move forward step by step. It dosen't have to be that hard. I'm sure of my feeling, it's not something casual or temporary"

You sat quite for a while "Well when you say it like that it sounds like the easiest thing in the world"

Trent chuckled, coming loser to you "It's not the easiset thing in the world but I like you too much to not give this a try"

You smiled leaning over the island to kiss him gently "I like you" you mumbled against his lips, feeling them curl into a smile against yours.

--

Sundays couldn't get better than this, the sun was out, mood happy and the birds were singing. Trent's hand in yours made a warmth spread in your chest. The girls ran in front of you, playing tag in a fit of giggles.

The soft morning had woken you up in the right mood, waking up alongside Trent was bound to wake you up in a good mood. Early morning sure but the way Tren't had made love to you first thing after waking up made your mood hit the good roof.

"I love this" you hummed, watching up at his beutiful smile under the baseball cap he'd pushed down over his curls, not wanting to be recognised.

You'd made it official, but not public. He had asked you to be his girlfriend one late night in front of the tv, cozied up together on the sofa. It had been only one clear answer on your tongue and since then things had changed for the better.

The worry of affecting your kids had been one that had proved not to be a problem, the girls already concidering the other best friends. Trying to explain had been a bit harder the girls not completely undestanding why they spent so mch time together at eachothers houses but they loved it neitherless.

"Me too" Trent hummed, glancing up at the girls "And I love you" he continued, turning to you again, tilting your head up to gently kiss you, a kiss you couldn't help but to smile into, holding his chin gently as he kissed you softly, intimately.

"Daddy!" "Mommy!"

You broke apart, giggling as you turned to your kids "Why is your daddy snogging my mommy!" Amelie protested but Ella only giggled making Amelie start to.

"Where have you learnt that word?" you asked her pointedly, her eyes blinking up at you "Trent told me it" she defended before they were off again.

"You taught her the word snogging??" you turned to him with a scoff "What?!" he exclaimed "The girls were using the word fucking so I told them not to say that and to say snog instead, choose your word woman!" he defended making you laugh "Okay okay, snogging is much better than fucking"

"Exactly" he smiled in victory as you continued to walk.

You'd never felt this kind of peace before in your life. It had always been something, something unsettling. But right now, right now it felt like peace, like nothing was hard or confusing. Everything was clear and you were happy, happiest you'd ever been.

And it all felt like it was coming together, peace had finally landed.

[a-small-writer-in-a-big-world]

something for the knight!price x princess!reader that I had to write before I went to bed

How could he do this to you? Were you not important enough to be informed by him personally or did you have to be told by every servant you had come across that the knights were leaving today?

You stomped through the courtyard of the castle, unable to keep yourself as composed as you should've. You weren't sure why you were angry, this wasn't uncommon, in fact the knights were more than often gone from the kingdom than they were at the castle and yet you couldn't help but feel hurt.

It was because you would be stuck at the castle, having no one to escort you anywhere when the knights were gone, leaving you in a horrible state of boredom.

You had the right to know you were going to be left alone and that had to be the only reason why you were so angry.

"You were going to leave without saying anything to me." You snapped when you found him, Sir Price, captain of the knights of the royal family, getting his horse ready in the stables.

"I didn't think it mattered, your highness." Price glanced at you with his usual scowl, the one he always had on his face when he looked at you. "I thought you would've loved to see me leave."

"Of course I am happy but I have a right to be told when my bodyguard is leaving."

Price rolled his eyes and you scoffed. He continued to pack his things away on his horse without looking at you, which made you want to stomp your foot on the ground.

"What am I supposed to do while you're gone?" You wondered and he shrugged.

"What you do everyday, your highness," He looked back at you with a smug smile. "Nothing."

"Oh, funny."

You crossed your arms and watched as he finished packing everything away onto his horse.

A pit fell into your stomach as you watched him ready his horse. He was leaving and you should be happy about it. You should be happy that he was no longer breathing down your neck and watching your every move. You'd have little freedom, unable to go where you pleased but at least you wouldn't have to deal with his snarky comments or jokes.

Yet you wondered if maybe this would be the last time you'd ever get to see him. Maybe this would be the last time you'd ever hear his gruff voice or see his beautiful blue eyes.

You detested him and yet the thought of never seeing him again made your stomach turn.

"You will come back." You demanded and when he didn't say anything you balled your hands into fists. "Tell me you will come back."

Price looked at you with slight confusion. His eyes bounced around your face and you watched the way they softened, the crease in his brow disappearing while he gripped the reins tightly.

He stared at you in silence for a long moment and his breathing became heavier.

Your mouth felt dry under his intense gaze and you felt the need to look away from him as heat washed over you. It was too much and you clasped your hand in front of you as you swallowed hard.

"If you don't, I think I'll be stuck inside the castle forever." You told him weakly.

When you glanced back at him, he sucked in his lips and averted his gaze from you. You watched he rubbed his chin before he nodded.

"I'll come back to you."

Your breath hitched in your throat.

To you...

Oh.

You didn't have faith in your voice so you only nodded. You watched as he wrapped the reins around his hand and his face fell back into that scowl you had grown accustomed to.

"Now, if your highness allows it, I must be going." Price gave you a look and you rolled your eyes.

"Go." You dismissed him with a wave.

Price bowed his head and turned, waking away with his horse in tow. He didn't look back at you, even when you followed him from behind at a distance.

You watched him mount his horse and join the other knights who were waiting for him, unable to take your eyes off him as the pit in your stomach grew larger. You weren't sure how long he'd be gone for, but you hope it wouldn't be a year or longer.

You're not sure if you'd survive.

As the knights rode towards the front gates, Price turned back and saw you. He didn't wave or indicate that he saw you, though he knew you saw him look back when you raised a hand to wave.

Oh, how you hate one another.

A/N: short makes no sense but here

[tofics]

Broken - Chapter 3

Pairing: Joel Miller x fem!Reader

Summary: A year has passed since Joel and Ellie have returned to Jackson when he finds you on patrol, half frozen and half burning up. Jackson takes you in and nurses you back to health, welcoming you as the newest member of their community. The more time passes, Joel realizes that you and him have more in common than he likes... Until one day, everything changes and you get a gift that he'll never get.

Word Count: 5912 words

This chapter is very dark. Reader discretion is advised.

Warnings: Implications of SA, mention of cannibalism, panic attacks, implications of self-harm, cursing, implications of murder, blood.

Chapter 3 - Worse Than A Monster

As time passes, winter slowly makes way for spring in Jackson. The snow begins to melt and turns everything into a muddy landscape, brown and grey replacing the white canvas as more and more of the land begins to thaw. Those weeks are the worst to be outside. Where it previously snowed it now comes down in rain, heavy and relentless and adding to the already soggy ground. Your horses' hoofs often sink a few inches into the mud and you come back drenched and soiled from your patrols.

One morning, the rain is coming down so heavy that you can barely see outside of your bedroom window. Unsure whether it's safe to take the horses out in this weather, you decide to swing by Joel's first and see if you can catch him before he leaves for the stables.

It takes you longer than usual to get to his house. You keep slipping in the mud and the rain is making it hard to see where you're going. When you finally make it to his backdoor, there's two big splotches of mud on your knees from where you slipped and fell on your way over. You shed your rainboots and raincoat by the door, not wanting to drag that mess with you into the house and then step into the kitchen. Even though it's empty, it's warm and cozy and smells like Joel and Ellie. You've come to love this room, having spent so much evenings here over the past two months.

"Joel?" You call out, but there's no response. You call out again, but get the same result. The rain is drumming against the windows of the house and you figure Joel might've not heard you, so you decide to head upstairs.

His bedroom door is ajar, his bed unmade, but Joel isn't anywhere to be found. Shit, probably missed him. You turn back with a sigh, not too happy with the idea of having to return to the rain as you pass by Ellie's door. To your surprise, you hear her mumbled voice from behind the door, despite the early morning hour. You raise your hand to knock when you hear another voice mixing with Ellie's giggle. She's got someone over. You realize it's another girl and you can't help but smile, happy that Ellie has found some friends in this community. Even though you know you shouldn't, you lean your ear against the doorframe to listen.

"Have you ever seen a penis before?" You hear the other girl asks and you feel color raising to your cheeks. This is definitely not a conversation you should be listening to.

"Ew!" Ellie's voice reverberates through the door and the two girls break out into giggles again. "Gross! No!"

The other girl laughs. "Okay, okay! I just thought, you know, because you live with Joel..."

"Ewwwwwww," Ellie howls and you grin. Nothing quite like a teenager's embarrassment over genitalia. "Why would you even say that! Yuck!" You hear the thump of a pillow and more giggles. "That's like me asking if you've seen your dad's penis!"

You smile to yourself and tip-toe over to the staircase, not wanting to raise attention to yourself. Let the teenagers be teenagers, you think, but then freeze when you hear Ellie's tone as she speaks again.

"I almost did, though. I mean not Joel's, no, gross. But..." There's a pause. You don't know why, but before you realize it, your feet have carried you back to Ellie's door. Something about the way she said it has pricked something in your gut.

"But what?"

You hear the muffled sounds of shifting blankets. When Ellie speaks again, her voice is so low that you're straining to hear her words.

"Uhh... when Joel and I were still traveling around, we came across some people." She pauses again and you feel your pulse picking up. Something tells you that whatever she's about to say, it won't be good.

"They were running low on food, I guess, so they'd started eating their own people."

Your stomach turns and you hear the other girl gasp. "Did they eat their penises too?"

"No! I don't know. Maybe. That's not the point." You squeeze your eyes shut, trying to regulate your breathing. The fact that Ellie ever came across such monsters... You can feel your morning coffee threatening to come back up and press a hand to your mouth.

"They followed this one guy who was a preacher or something. I don't know. One of their people had hurt Joel and I was trading them for medicine with a deer I'd shot, but things went wrong when they found out that it was Joel who the medicine was for, because he'd killed the guy who'd stabbed him. I mean, it was self-defense, but obviously they didn't care very much about that.

Anyway, my trade goes to shit and they take me into their little jail or whatever, and when I refuse to trust them and join their little hunger club, this preacher guy starts threatening me about how I'll be their lunch next."

There's dead silence behind Ellie's door. You keep your hand pressed to your mouth, afraid that if you take it down, a sound or bile will come out; maybe both.

"I managed to fight them, but that son of a bitch of a preacher just wouldn't let go. Next thing I know, the entire place is on fire, and even though there were flames, like, right next to us, that fucker climbed on top of me, and he..."

Your legs carry you down the stairs and out through the backdoor in a blitz before you can catch the end of the sentence. You throw yourself over the railing of the back porch and spew out this morning's coffee and whatever little remains were still in your stomach from last night's dinner. The rain is still coming down heavy and think, washing away the remnants of your stomach as quickly as they came out and soaking your head and sweatshirt, but you don't care. You don't even really notice.

There's the sound of white noise in your ears, paired with a high pitched ringing. You cling to the railing as your heart runs in your chest. Flashes of images you've tried to bury in the back of your head dance in front of you. You can still see them when you squeeze your eyes shut, a playback from hell that you seem unable to stop.

You stumble as you scramble for your rainboots and coat. Your fingers refuse to work, fiddling with the zipper of your raincoat before giving up. Whether it's rain or tears running down your cheeks, you don't know. More than once, you stumble on the slick roads and fall to the ground. There's a sharp pain in the palm of your hand the first time you fall down, then in your knee when you slip for the second time. None of it matters. The pain barely registers with your brain as you tumble back to your house, the high pitched ringing and white noise still blocking out your ears. Somewhere between Joel's house and yours, your hood slips down and your hair is drenched within seconds, but you make no attempt to pull the hood back over your head. You just have to get home. Get away.

Joel finds you in your bedroom. He halts in the doorframe when he sees that you're not fully dressed. For the briefest of seconds, his eyes flit across your bum, partially covered by the panties you're wearing. Then you're already turned around, scurrying from the closet back to the open bag on your bed and he sees the wound on your knee, muddy and leaking blood down your leg in a single, long stripe.

He quickly takes in the rest of the scene in front of him. There's a pile of wet and muddy jeans by the bed, next to a drenched hoodie. Clothes and various objects are strewn across the room, as if having been picked up and then quickly disregarded again. You're in the midst of the chaos, running back and forth between the piles on the ground, your drawer and your closet, gathering things and then tossing them again.

He clears his throat to alert you of his presence, but you don't stop, don't even glance his way. Instead, you grab a pair of jeans from the top of your closet and shove them into your bag. Joel says your name then, but you just dash over to your dresser. To Joel's alarm, you hurry back to the bed with a couple of cases of ammo.

With two quick strides, he crosses through the room and takes you by the arms before saying your name again. Finally, you show a sign of recognition at the mention of your name. "Oh, hey Joel," you mumble and shimmy out of his grip to return to your closet.

"What's going on?" He tries to keep his voice steady, but what he's seeing has him worried. In the few months that he's known you, he's never seen you like this. You have your moments where you draw back into yourself, but this? This borders on mental breakdown, if it hasn't already crossed the line.

You rush back to the bed and fish out a pair of boots from underneath it. "Just packing some things," you say as you walk into the en-suite. You return with a toothbrush and toothpaste in hand which you promptly stuff into the slowly filling bag on the bed.

"I can see that," Joel replies warily. Adding to his confusion, you give him a quick smile as you shimmy past him to retrieve a jacket that's dangling from the curtain rod.

"Where're you goin'?"

"Just got some business I gotta take care of," comes your answer from the room next door. Then you scurry back into the room and drop two rolls of toilet paper into your bag before Joel catches your wrist, stopping you before you can flit off again.

"Hey," he says and his tone is warm, his eyes kind and full of concern. "What happened? What's going on?"

You push his hand off your wrist and turn away from him. The look in his eyes is threatening to get through to you, and you can't have that. You need to concentrate on the task at hand, and he's distracting you.

"You can go, Joel," you dismiss him, but he doesn't budge.

"I ain't goin' nowhere until you tell me what's goin' on."

It's the annoyance over his refusal to leave that pulls you out of your state a little. You turn back to him with an angry look on your face. "I told you. I have some business I have to take care of." You return your attention to the bottom drawer in front of you. Socks, socks, you think. How many socks will I need? You decide that there's no such thing as too many socks and swiftly take the entire drawer out to dump all of its contents into your bag on the bed.

"Alright, enough." Joel puts his arms around the drawer you're holding in an attempt to take it out of your hands, but you refuse. A short war of tug-and-pull promptly ensues. "Let - go!" you press out between clenched teeth. Joel doesn't reply and instead manages to wrestle the large wooden compartment out of your hands. He quickly discards it on the bed before he grabs both your wrists again and pulls you closer to him.

"Do you know what you look like right now?" His voice is hushed and coated with anger. You couldn't care less as you tug on your arms, struggling to get free. "You're running around like a goddamn maniac. You're bleeding, for god's sake!" Joel shakes the wrist of your left arm, forcing your palm to turn upwards so you can see the cut at the bottom of it.

"I slipped," you mumble as you stare at the laceration. Your brows furrow as if you're only now realizing that you're wounded. "I slipped in the rain." The longer you stare at your wound, the more present it becomes. A sharp sting crawls up your left arm and you flinch back at the sensation. Through the noise in your ears, you hear Joel saying your name again. You blink up at him and are met with a stare of concern and anger. You recoil at the sight of it. Why does he care?

He scoffs as you relay the question to him. "How could I not? You don't show up for your shift and then I find you like this!" He lets go of your wrists then to widen his arms, gesturing around the room. You look around briefly, registering the chaos and piles of stuff everywhere for the first time. Did I do that?, you wonder, but quickly shrug it off. Doesn't matter. I gotta go.

You turn back towards your en-suite, but before you can take so much as two steps, your feet suddenly lift from the ground. You screech in surprise and then begin to flail around when you realize that Joel has picked you up and is carrying you out of your room.

Despite your heavy protest and flailing limbs, Joel carries you down to your living room where he unceremoniously drops you on your couch. Once you touch down, you immediately scramble to get back up, but Joel is quicker than you and pushes you down into the cushions by your shoulders. "Let - me - go!" you strain, but he doesn't let up.

Instead, he kneels so you're eye-to-eye with him. "Look at me. Look at me!" he commands, and you unwillingly obey. You stare into his eyes, yours full of fury and hatred for the man who is keeping you from what you need to do.

"What!" It comes out as a snarl, your tone matching the anger in your eyes.

"If you have somewhere to go, that's fine, but I'm not letting you up from this couch until you tell me where you need to go and why."

His face shows an unbreaking determination that just adds to your fury. You glare at him as the silence stretches on between you, unwilling to explain yourself to him. You wiggle a few times to get his arms off your shoulders, but he doesn't budge one bit, just keeps his eyes on yours.

The longer he holds you down, the more your anger slowly dissipates. Your eyes begin to glisten and he feels a hint of pain in his chest. What the hell happened to you?, he wonders and is afraid to learn the answer. When he saw you at dinner yesterday evening, you seemed fine, your usual, nothing out of place. What happened in those few hours between dinner and now?

Your head slumps down as the first sob escapes you, quickly followed by more. Tears drip down onto your bare legs and you begin to shiver as the adrenaline leaves your body; the aftermath a mess of cold, shaking limbs. Joel reaches for a nearby blanket and drapes it around you, trying to cover as much of your shaking body as the blanket will allow. He tries tugging it over your thighs when he sees the faint white lines running horizontally across your skin. There's so many of them.

When he realizes he's staring, he quickly tugs on the fabric again until your thighs are covered too. You don't seem to have noticed or care; sobs still breaking out of you like before. He rubs your back gently over the scratchy material of the blanket, a soothing gesture for the lack of soothing words he can't find.

Eventually, your tears let up a little. You pull your legs close to your chest, tugging your feet under the blanket and run an arm over your nose. It comes away full of snot, which you rub off against the blanket.

"You wanna tell me now what's going on?"

You don't meet his eyes. Shame is pooling in your stomach, hot and full of bile at the state he's seen you in. It takes you a moment to find your voice.

"There's... something I gotta go take care of." Your voice is barely more than a whisper, croaky and thick from the snot that's running down the back of your throat.

"People," you add and briefly meet his gaze, your eyes adding the meaning that your words left out.

Joel thinks about the lines on your thighs and digests your words. "These people. They hurt you?"

You huff at his question and another round of tears springs from your eyes. A single nod confirms his question.

Joel grunts. "They hurt someone you love?"

You feel the taste of bile in the back of your throat at his words. A shudder runs through your spine and you pull the blanket closer around you in search of comfort. Suddenly, you wish you were still in your frenzy, full of adrenaline and empty of all these feelings that are churning you up and spitting you out.

It takes a while before you can speak again without worrying that you might throw up. "Umh. I'll talk to Tommy, see if he can find a replacement for me for morning patrol."

There's a sigh from Joel. He's shaking his head when you look at him. "You don't gotta worry about that. I'll talk to him. He'll find someone to cover for both of us."

"Both of us?!" You look at him in bewilderment.

"You think I'm letting you out there on your own?"

Not what he should have said. Whatever bit of vulnerability you allowed him to see just a moment ago quickly gets shoved away behind a curtain of white-hot anger. "Oh, yeah? Because I can't handle myself?" You throw the blanket off your shoulders and stalk over to the kitchen. "I've lived 37 years without you, Joel, I think I'll do just fine!"

Joel rubs his face and groans as you march off. The fuck did I go wrong this morning?, he thinks but then gets up to follow you. His own words had surprised him a little, no doubt. You had a point, you'd barely known each other for more than three months, and here he was, offering himself up for whatever revenge-mission you had suddenly decided to go on. What about Ellie?, a voice asks in his head, and he immediately feels a twinge of guilt.

He finds you in your bathroom, patching up your wounds, or at least trying to. You've already tended to the cut on your knee and are now trying to wrap a bandage around the palm of your hand, but your free hand is shaking too much. Joel takes the bandage from you and carefully wraps it around the cut and wrist. Once you're all bandaged up, you shove past him into your bedroom and quickly pull on fresh clothes, acutely aware of the fact that you're running around in underwear and a t-shirt.

"I didn't mean that you couldn't handle yourself. It's just safer not to go alone."

He watches you as you don't reply and just stuff things into your bag.

"I know we don't get a lot of raiders or infected around here, but they're out there. I know you know that, you're not stupid." This earns him a glare, but you continue packing wordlessly.

"You don't have to take me. Hell, I probably shouldn't even go. I'm old and rusty, and I got Ellie to look after."

You look at the contents of your bag, then flip it upside down, shaking all of it out onto the bed. Joel thinks he's won for a second, but then you start re-packing everything, just with more precision.

"Just take someone with you, okay? 'M sure someone will come with you. I know some of the youngsters are itchin' to get out there."

You huff in frustration. "I can't just taking anyone with me, much less some young idiot who's never had to look after his own butt and doesn't know how to shoot a damn gun. And what makes you think that someone will just want to come with?! I'm not going on a supply run, Joel, I'm going to end what I should have ended years ago. Some-one, if you haven't caught on by now."

"Yeah no, I got that. Just think it's a dumb idea to go at it alone." He's standing in your doorframe, arms crossed, blocking your exit.

"Please." You roll your eyes as you push your socks into a separate, smaller bag. "I'll be fine. Let it go, Joel."

"'Kay, what if you come across a bunch of infected?"

"Then I'll deal with them." You stuff the smaller bag in between a pair of shoes and two rolls of toilet paper. "Besides, there's worse than infected out there," you mumble under your breath, but Joel hears you clear as day.

"'N what's that?"

Oh, for fuck's sake. When will he let this go!

"People!", you exclaim as you turn to face him. "People, Joel, people!"

"My point exactly!" He throws his hands up in exasperation, but you're quick to interrupt him.

"No, Joel, not fuckin' raiders! I'm talking about FEDRA, you fuckin' idiot!" Your voice has risen to a shout. "You know what's worse than a frickin' raider? Someone with power. Someone who will abuse their power in any way they can. You know what that does to people? You know what they think they can take when they're in charge? Everything, Joel. Everything."

You throw the last few things into the bag and then zip it shut. When you try to shove past Joel in the doorframe, he snags it off your shoulder and takes you by the arm.

"Come with me." It's as much an order as it is a request. Even so, the hold on your arm is strong as he drags you down the stairs and outside into the rain.

The downpour has barely let up since you first stepped a foot outside this morning and it's coming down in buckets. Within a matter of seconds, your second outfit of the day is drenched.

"Where the fuck are we going," you yell over the rain, but Joel doesn't respond, just continues dragging you through the streets until you arrive in his backyard. You're shivering, cold from the wet and the wind, as he points to a pile of wood nearby. You squint at him through the rain, confused.

"Take it out on that," he calls out as he hands you an axe, then places a piece of wood on the chopping block. You just blink at him. Has he lost his mind?

"You need me to chop your firewood?" You wipe an arm across your face, but raindrops quickly gather on your eyelashes again.

"Whatever you're feeling right now, take it out on that, then we can talk again." The rain is running into his eyes and into the back of his neck, but he doesn't waiver, just motions for the piece of wood on the block again.

Fuck it, you think and take your first swing. You split the piece of wood neatly in half. Joel wipes the chunks off of the block and puts a fresh piece on it, then motions for you to go again.

You repeat this process a few times until your chopping becomes faster and faster. You hear Ellie's words from this morning ringing in your head, over and over. "That fucker climbed on top of me, and he..." It plays on a constant loop, accompanied by flashes of pictures of someone that isn't Ellie, trapped under a man's body as she screams and cries for help-

It takes a while to realize that you're screaming yourself. Snot and tears fly from your face as you blindy hack away at the wooden block in front of you, little pieces of wood shooting into the air.

Joel watches from a safe distance as you take your feelings out on the firewood. When you start to scream, Ellie's window on the first floor flies open and two worried faces appear in the frame. "Fuck," Joel mutters under his breath and motions for the two girls to move back and close the window again. "It's okay," he calls out over your distressed wails and the rain. "Ellie, it's okay," he repeats when she doesn't retreat at first. He sees how her eyes wander back and forth between you and him, a mixture of concern and fear on her face. He nods at her once more and finally, she leans back inside and closes the window. Gonna have to deal with that later, he thinks but just then, Tommy comes jogging around the corner of the house, rifle raised.

"Whoa, whoa, Tommy, 's okay, we're good here!" Even though one should never run into the line of a gun, Joel quickly jogs over to Tommy, shielding you with his body in the process. His younger brother squints around him at you, chopping away on the block furiously while you still shout out strangled sounds of pain.

"The fuck's goin' on, Joel?" Tommy's panting and his eyes are wide and alert. "'Dunno quite yet, she's goin' through somethin'," Joel replies quietly so you won't hear. His brother's eyes dart back over to you through the rain. "Uh-huh?"

"Tommy." Joel puts a hand on the barrel and gently pushes it downwards. "She ain't bit. She's just..." He sighs and runs a hand over his face. "'Dunno, man, somethin' set her off and triggered her."

Slowly, Tommy lets his rifle sink down. The two men watch you go at it for a moment. "You sure she ain't bit?" His brothers eyes wander over their surroundings and Joel knows he's looking for infected. "I'm tellin' 'ya, somethin' set her off, jus' don't know what yet. Wouldn't she be tryin' to eat our faces instead of playin' Jack Torrance over there?"

Finally, Tommy swings his rifle back over his shoulder. "Alright," he says in a tone that tells Joel it's anything but alright, and he can't blame his brother. "I got it under control," he assures Tommy. He receives a pat on the back in return and with one last look at you, Tommy jogs back around the house, presumably to tell Maria that no, they're not being overrun with infected.

After a little while, your screaming subsides. Soon after, your motions become slower and slower until you eventually drop the axe to the ground. It lands in a puddle with a thud and a little splash. Realizing that all the fight has gone out of you, Joel makes his way over to you. He reaches you just in time as your knees give out.

"Alright," he grunts as he catches you. He chucks the axe over to a protected dry spot and then swoops you up into his arms.

Ellie opens the backdoor for him and quickly throws a blanket over the couch where Joel sets you down. There's a glazed look in your eyes, like you're far away. Ellie's face is one of pure worry and it tugs at Joel's heart, the way her little heart can feel so deeply for others.

"What happened," Ellie whispers as she studies your face with big eyes. Then she notices the bandage on your palm. "Is she...?", she gasps, but Joel just flicks his tongue. "You think I'd bring her into our house if she was?"

Ellie helps him undress you. The wet clothes stick to your skin like glue, your jeans in particular. You let the two move you around whichever way they turn you, but you make no move to help. It's hard to tell whether you're registering anything that's going on.

Joel sends Ellie up to his room to fetch a pair of his sweatpants and one of his sweaters. When she comes back, she also has a pair of fuzzy socks with her that come out of her own collection. He raises an eyebrow when she hands them to him, but she just shrugs. "Thought they might help."

They speak in hushed whispers as they work around you, replacing your bandages as they go. Once you're dressed in dry clothes, Ellie gets her brush and sits on the backrest of the couch. She slowly untangles your hair and gently brushes through the strands. Joel goes to change out of his own drenched set and heads to the dining hall afterwards. When he comes back, he's loaded with food.

Ellie has finished with your hair and is sitting next to you on the sofa, reading a book. Her eyes light up at the sight of the bag that Joel's carrying. "Whoaaa," she breathes out and wanders over to inspect his loot. "They let you take all this?"

Joel shrugs. "More or less. Told Andrea we can't make it to the dining hall today." He glances over at you, but you're still staring off into the distance. "She say anything at all since I left?" Ellie shakes her head. "No, but I think she liked it when I sat next to her. She sighed once," she replies in an equally hushed voice. Together, they unpack lunch and dinner.

You poke around the plate of food that Joel set down in front of you. Hours have passed since you slowly came to on their couch. There's a numbness inside of you that fills you from head to toe, overshadowing every other sensation. You're not hungry, you're not thirsty, you're not happy or sad. If anything, you're exhausted. Every single muscle in your body aches like you just finished a whole body workout.

While you shift the food around on your plate, Joel and Ellie blabber on in the background. It's the most you've ever heard him talk; even during your game nights he doesn't talk this much. You briefly wonder if this is what their every-day-interactions are like before you push the thought away. Ellie laughs and Joel joins in. Hers is high and giggly and his is deep and warm and throaty. It's a nice sound.

You're grateful that they don't try to include you in the conversation. You just sit and listen as Ellie talks about the gossip her friend Jessica told her last night during their sleepover. Apparently, her brother tried to steal one of the rare chocolate bars from the community kitchen and now has to work in plumbing as punishment. Joel, in return, tells a story about how back in the day, a plumber messed up at one of his construction sites and they had a sewage pipe blow up in the middle of the day. "Poop rained down everywhere. It was an ugly sight, I'm tellin' 'ya. Tommy got the worst of it."

Ellie laughs so hard, she almost slides off her chair, and even Joel's chair is shaking from his laughter. You briefly look up and find that Joel is looking at you, the skin around his eyes all crinkly from the smile on his face. You quickly avert your eyes but can't stop the tiny smile that wanders over your lips.

"C'mon, I'll walk you home." Joel's hand is on your shoulder. The dishes are done and the sun has set. Ellie has already gone to bed, or has at least retreated to her room.

You feel a soft nudge on your shoulder and start to move.

The idea of going back to your house, alone, haunts you. Where a packed bag is waiting and the evidence of your outburst is strewn across the floor of your entire bedroom.

Your legs stop under you and Joel almost bumps into you on the way to the door. "I can't," you whisper and you feel the familiar wave of shame roar in your stomach. You feel Joel's hand on your back and feel frozen in your spot. "I-," you start again but your voice betrays you. There's a prickling sensation behind your eyes and you know that the tears are just around the corner. You sigh and it sounds like dry laugh. "I, umh."

Joel doesn't say anything, he just waits for you to say what you have to say. You take a big breath and then say the words quickly before you lose the momentum. "I'm afraid I'll do something, if I'm alone." Your whisper is so quiet, so small, as if your voice wants to hide itself away. "To myself."

There's a moment of silence where you feel like your skin is on fire. Every single hair on your body stands up as you wait for Joel to respond. The wave of shame sloshes around in your stomach and sends hot shivers through your body. You feel betrayed by yourself, by your mind, your strength, both cowering at the sight of your pain, unable to tame it. You feel humiliated by yourself, your inability to deal with your demons and how scared you are of them. You've fought so many monsters, infected by cordyceps or power, but the one opponent that you never seem to beat is yourself.

Finally, you feel his hand glide off your back and it feels like a kick in the stomach, but then his hand gently wraps around your unbandaged hand. There's a soft tug, and then he's guiding you through the kitchen, up the stairs and into his bedroom.

A cascade of emotions washes over you: relief, shame, gratitude, humiliation, guilt. There is relief that you don't have to go home and face your demons in the dark all by yourself, gratitude that Joel's taking you in and taking on the burden of making sure you're safe when you can't do it yourself, but it's all laced with shame, bitter and slimy and hard to swallow because you should be able to do this yourself.

You don't know how to feel as he gestures for you to sit on the bed, then takes off his watch and places it on one of the nightstands. He pulls off the jacket he's wearing, then slips out of his t-shirt. You avert your eyes when his torso is bare, even if not for long. He slips on another t-shirt, then kicks off his pants.

You're still sitting on the edge of his bed as he slides under the blanket behind you. "C'mon," you hear him mumble and he tugs the blanket out from under you. To your surprise, your body moves on its own accord. Your legs slide under the blanket he's holding up, then he's pulling the covers up so they reach up to your chin. You feel him shift behind you and then there's his body leaning against yours, your back pressed against his tummy. An arm moves around your waist and pulls you even closer, until you're fitted against each other tightly.

You're in Joel Miller's bed, but there's nothing sexual about it. Joel holds your shaking body against his and lets the warmth of his own body erase your cold. He holds you, even when tears of shame and sadness roll down your cheeks and into his pillows. He holds you until you fall asleep, and even then, he doesn't let go.

Series Masterlist - Mobile Masterlist

A/N: I want to make it clear that asking for help is never wrong, nor anything to be ashamed of or to be humiliated by. As a person with chronic depression who struggled to deal with it on her own for years, I want you to know that you deserve all the help, even if your brain is telling you something different. No matter what you're struggling with, you are worthy of help and love, always. 🤍

Feedback is always appreciated! If you have any requests, feel free to send them my way. I'm always happy to practice my writing! :)

Let me know if you'd like to be tagged in future chapters!

Tag list: @eternallyvenus @frogsdeservelovetoo @akisfoxdevil @southernbe @nutterbitter @sunandmuun @noisynightmarepoetry @puduvallee @picketniffler @yesjazzywazzylove-blog @orcasoul @foomoosworld @aryaharmon @lilmizmoz @ashleyfilm

[carlsdarling]

Being with Carl Grimes headcanons

Giving my fellow Carl people a sexy alphabet. Hope you enjoy it :) Everyone is 18 or over.

WARNINGS: smut, nsfw

A – Aftercare

Carl is very loving and affectionate. After you both finished, he hugs you tightly and enjoys feeling your heart beating against his own. Cleaning up is not a priority for him, nor for you, so you usually fall asleep sticky and sweaty.

B - Body

Carl loves your belly and the curve of your waist to your hips and thighs. He can't stop looking at that part of your body. He also loves to cum on your belly.

C - Cum

Carl prefers to cum inside you, either in your pussy or in your mouth, but as long as he can cum anywhere on you, he's happy.

D – Dirty Secret

Carl has his secret fantasies about dominating and "punishing" you, especially when he is jealous. But it would never occur to him to hurt you.

He also secretly watched Beth changing her clothes in jail and jerked off.

E - Experience

He was completely inexperienced when the two of you got together, but he was so willing to learn. Now Carl is very experienced and knows exactly what he is doing.

F – Favourite position

You riding him and missionary. Carl wants to be able to kiss you and look at you while he fucks you, and it excites him a lot when you stroke him while he does it, brushing his hair back and moaning in his ear.

G - Gentle

Carl is usually very gentle unless you both feel needy, then it gets rougher and you both enjoy it.

H - Hair

He trims his pubes every now and then so they don't get in the way when you suck him off, but he doesn't really care.

I - Intimacy

Carl loves to lie in bed with you for hours, cuddling, talking and having sex over and over again.

J – Jack off

He hardly ever does it now because you literally can't keep your hands off each other. In the past, before Rick's group came to Alexandria and you met, he did it regularly.

K - Kink

Carl has some kind of a cum kink. He loves to see his jizz running out of you after sex and staining the bedding or the car seat, or spreading on your skin, he also gets excited when he ejaculates so much that it runs out of your mouth after you suck him off.

L - Location

Anywhere reasonably safe. But never outdoors outside Alexandria. Carl thinks that's too dangerous; he can't relax then.

M – Motivation

His sex drive is very high. He is 18, what else do you expect? ;) The smallest sign makes him get hard.

N – No Go

Humiliate you, beat you or fecal games.

O – Oral

He loves giving as much as receiving. When he eats you out, it drives him crazy how you squirm under him, clawing your fingers in his hair and begging to finally have him inside you.

P – Pace

It depends on what mood you are both in. From slow and sensual to fast and hard, Carl is flexible.

Q - Quickies

Often quickies are the only way for you to be intimate, so yes, he likes them. But preferably he has a lot of time and comfort to do it several times in a row.

R - Risk

He is definitiely a risk taker when it comes to someone potentially catching you in the act. You've already done it in various places in Alexandria - in the grass behind the horse stables, in the toolshed (you were sitting on a table with your legs wrapped around Carl's hips), once even in the dark on the wall.

S - Stamina

He can do it very often, you are constantly breaking your own records; currently the record stands at eleven times a day. You are just extremely horny for each other.

T – Time

Several times a day, unless you are on your period.

U – Unfair

Carl always tries to make you cum as often and as long as possible before he cums himself. Jokingly, he sometimes complains that this is unfair.

V - Volume

He is very loud no matter where you do it.

W – Wildcard

At one occasion, the two of you went on a tour and had a wild time in the back seat of the car very close to the Sanctuary, knowing that Negan's people could have shown up at any time.

X – X-Ray

He is a bit over average, but not much, his cock just fits you perfectly.

Y – Yes

Carl says yes to anything you want to do with him.

Z - Zzzzz

He prefers to fall asleep naked and cuddled up with you. If you have had sex at home, it doesn't take long for him to fall asleep.

[shelbyssins]

HI 💕 I loved Home so much and I was wondering if I could request something?? I had this idea of Tommy x Reader where reader was like a one that got away situation with pre-war Tommy and she married someone else but her husband dies during the war but Tommy didn’t ever know that he just thought she was married.. so time passes and they meet again then you can choose the ending!! Happy or sad you can choose, I hope this makes sense English is not my first language lol!! And if this doesn’t inspire you that’s okay too but know I love your work and am excited to see what you write next!!!💕😇😇

Seasons Change, People Don't ~ Tommy Shelby x Reader

Warnings: Language, a sprinkling of angst

Word Count: 6,880

A/N: So this past week or so has just been insanely busy for me and I was struggling to find time to finish this request but here it finally is! I wanted to make this a little more light hearted than my previous request and the idea of Tommy and reader's relationship changing through the seasons really stuck with me so I hope you enjoy! I will be posting some shorter form one shots this week with some different characters so watch out for those! As always, if you read this, let me know what you think! - Rosie x

-

June 1912

“Tommy!” Y/n shrieked as she bounded over to her friend in the stables. The summer sun was breaking through the thin cover of cloud that drifted over the fields today. Y/n watched as Tommy’s eyes met hers, a soft smile playing on his lips when he recognised her. Y/n pressed a kiss to Tommy’s cheek, smacking her lips louder than she needed to because she knew it wound him up. He made an exaggerated show of wiping the spot she’d kissed and Y/n punched him lightly in response, he laughed gently, feigning hurt as he rubbed his arm. 

Tommy was reverently brushing his mare, a bay horse who’s coat gleamed like copper coins under his attention. Tommy was a quiet man, never really as raucous as his brothers could be, but he laughed a lot, those soft little chuckles that never failed to make Y/n blush whenever she pulled one out of him. Tommy was a middle child, but Y/n knew he acted every bit the eldest. Having been blessed with intelligence, his head would soon be burdened with the crown of the Shelby family. Though he did laugh a lot, Y/n could often see the strain he felt as the head of the family, so it was nice to see him relaxed and in his own world. 

He was twenty two now, about a head taller than Y/n and she found him so frustratingly handsome. She watched as his solid muscles shifted beneath his crisp shirt with every movement over his mare’s back, all broad shoulders and quiet strength, it was no wonder he had every girl in Small Heath falling over themselves for the chance to go out with him, though he never seemed to care much. Despite the obvious physical attraction, Y/n’s favourite part of him was his bright blue eyes, shining like sapphires in the sun, like stormy seas in the shade. Y/n would like to pretend that she was better than all the other girls, far above so obviously throwing herself at Tommy; but it was hard to push down the magnificently huge crush she had on him when he gazed at her with those pools of blue. 

Y/n had known Tommy ever since she could remember, her mother was best friends with his Aunt, Polly Gray, they were practically sisters, and as her father had abandoned them before she was even born, the Shelby family pitched in to help wherever needed. Then, when Y/n was twelve years old, her mother passed and she’d lived with Polly ever since. She knew full well that Tommy only ever deemed her like a sister, but that didn’t stop her dreaming that he’d one day notice her affections. 

It didn’t help that Tommy always treated her like a child as well, chiding her when he’d seen her smoking for the first time, always referring to her and her friends as ‘the kids’. Y/n had hoped that now she was eighteen, Tommy might see her in a different light, might start treating her like an adult, but if anything he was even more overprotective. 

Just recently he’d refused to let her sit with him and his older brother, Arthur, in the Garrison, telling her, “It’s not proper for young ladies to listen to conversation like ours, you don’t want to be around us when we’re drinking anyway,”. It was kind of humiliating, especially when Arthur had laughed that booming laugh right in her face, so she gave up that night and trailed home, feeling every bit the little girl Tommy thought she was.

“You know, Mark’s been hanging around me a lot recently,” Y/n began, hoping that Tommy might get jealous if she talked about another guy, “Ada says she thinks he likes me,” 

Y/n got nothing more than a non committal grunt from Tommy, though his hands had stilled their work over his mare’s mane. 

“She thinks he’s going to ask me to go to the Garrison’s jazz night this weekend. As his date,” She added the clarification at the end, searching Tommy’s face for absolutely any reaction.

Tommy obviously wasn’t going to bite, so Y/n decided to try a more direct approach, “You know, if you asked me to go with you instead of him, I’d say yes,” 

For all the intelligence he apparently possessed, Tommy just looked at Y/n blankly, a puzzled eyebrow raised as he went back to grooming his horse.

“You know I don’t like jazz, Y/n,” Was all he said on the matter, and Y/n wondered if he really was that bad at picking up her hints or if he was ignoring her attempts at flirtation on purpose.

Y/n was beyond frustrated at the fact that Tommy just didn’t understand what she was trying to say, she had hoped distantly that maybe she had a head start on all the other girls who liked Tommy too; she knew him far better than they did after all. But maybe it was because they’d grown up together that Tommy couldn’t see her as a potential girlfriend, maybe she’d always be just a kid in his eyes. Maybe he had some misguided idea that he was protecting her feelings by pretending to be confused, because perhaps in reality he just wanted to reject her.

“Well maybe I’ll just say yes to Mark then,” Y/n snapped, all together fed up with trying to get her meaning across. She looked away from Tommy then, afraid that if he caught her eye that she’d start blushing. 

Tommy didn’t look up at her statement, just scratched at his horse’s ear as he said a bored, “Ok,” 

Y/n huffed, storming away in a barely contained stomping tantrum that would rival any fit Finn could throw. She felt utterly defeated as she walked away from Tommy, thoroughly embarrassed that she was a tiny bit jealous of a horse.

 March 1913

The sun was warm today, the first hints of spring blooming to bask in its light. The grass, damp with morning dew, caressed Y/n’s bare legs just below her skirt as she walked through the meadow in search of Tommy. Y/n knew he would be out here somewhere, desperate to get the family’s horses out in the fields for some exercise after the previous week’s relentless storms had kept them locked in the stables.

As she climbed her way over a short hill, Y/n’s eyes finally set on Tommy, who was standing under the shade of a tree, smoke from his cigarette billowing out of his mouth. Y/n ambled over, the closer she got she took in more of his appearance. He was dressed only in an undershirt tucked into his trousers, his suspenders hung loose by his legs. Tommy’s hair, not gelled down for once, flopped over by his ears. Y/n swallowed thickly as she remembered that she had a boyfriend waiting for her at home.

“Hi, Tommy,” She said softly, not wanting to startle him out of whatever daydream he seemed to be in.

“Y/n,” He replied simply, blowing some smoke in her face by way of greeting.

Y/n rolled her eyes as she waved the cloud of smoke away, faking a cough as she did.

“You got another one of those for me?” She asked with a gesture towards his cigarette, putting on the sweet voice she always used when she wanted something from Tommy.

He wordlessly opened his packet and she took one gratefully, leaning forward when Tommy flicked his lighter. Tommy moved in close to light Y/n’s cigarette for her, she held her breath as he did, wanting to avoid accidentally breathing in his dizzying scent of fresh soap and a hint of whiskey. Y/n took a long drag of the cigarette, having smoked almost half of it in one go when she finally exhaled. Tommy quirked an eyebrow at her obvious craving for the nicotine but didn’t comment.

Y/n relaxed her shoulders a little as she felt the effects of the smoke calm her rushing blood slightly, sagging against the tree as she pulled at the last dregs of the cigarette. Her mind wandered back to the problem at hand when she flicked the butt away into the grass. 

“To what do I owe the pleasure,” Tommy asked as he too finished his smoke.

Y/n sighed and looked off into the distance, her eyes finding two of the Shelby horses grazing at the far side of the field in the shade, “I think Mark is going to propose to me.”

She sighed out a breath and couldn’t stop the way her eyes immediately went to Tommy’s face, waiting for his reaction. Y/n had accepted months ago that Tommy wouldn't ever see her the way she wanted him to, so she shut the door on those feelings and kept them buried under Mark’s affections. But she couldn’t help but worry that the lock on her heart was too weak now that she spoke to Tommy about impending marriage, she was powerless to stop the small hope that Tommy might tell her to say no, knew she’d run right into his arms if he wanted her to.

“I’m not sure what light you think I’ll be able to shed on the matter,” Tommy responded, his bored voice grating on Y/n’s final nerve.

“I should’ve known you’d be no help,” She huffed, pushing away from the tree and smoothing her skirts with angry hands. She made to stomp off back across the field, like she always did when Tommy irritated her, but a warm hand circling the entirety of her wrist stopped her in her tracks.

“Alright, love, alright, stop your tantrum,” Tommy was barely concealing a laugh behind his hand, but Y/n could see the humour clearly in his twinkling eyes. 

“Shut up, Tommy,” Y/n replied, articulating her scowl with a harsh shove into Tommy’s side, “I’m just… not sure I want to marry him, at least, not so soon,” 

Tommy pushed his hair out of his eyes and seemed to consider for a moment, “Well, don’t you like him?” 

Y/n rolled her eyes, “Of course I like him, he’s sweet - kind to me, you know... Has a good job,” 

“Well there you go, if you like him, why can’t you marry him?” Tommy said, so matter of fact that Y/n might have thought he’d mulled this over before.

“That’s just the thing, Tom. I like him, sure. But I just described him like he’s a pet dog, not a potential husband,” Tommy snorts at that and Y/n can’t help the little giggle that escapes in response, “I just… I always thought I’d be madly in love with whoever I was to marry, I’m scared I’ll regret it if I say yes,” 

“What if you say no and regret it?” Tommy asked, his voice as soft as the breeze whispering over Y/n’s skin.

“You’re right. I don’t want to end up alone the rest of my life, and it’s not like anyone else is lining up for the chance to propose to me,” Y/n cringed at how obvious she sounded as she glanced at Tommy, she hunted for any change in those expressive eyes but came back disappointed when there was nothing. 

Tommy said nothing more, sensing that Y/n was deep in thought, so they stood there in comfortable silence as the sun climbed higher into the afternoon sky. 

Y/n felt bereft at the way her life had turned out. She and Ada used to dream of their weddings like all little girls did. They would excitedly tell each other all the details, what kind of dress they would wear, the colour of the bouquet they would hold, even the flavour of the wedding cake. They would clasp their little hands together and wish their dreams would come true, but there was one dream little Y/n never told Ada. The dream that a handsome blue eyed man would be waiting for her at the end of the aisle, he’d say she looked beautiful as he lifted her veil and they’d vow to belong to each other as long as they both lived.

Y/n's chest tightened sorrowfully as she felt that dream slipping through her fingers. No matter how tight she tried to hold onto it, she knew now that it would never come true.

“Come on,” Tommy spoke up, apparently done with the silence, “We can ride the horses back to the stables and I’ll see you home.”

Y/n felt pained by his words because they came from brotherly concern rather than the love she’d always wanted from him. He walked on ahead of her and Y/n closed her eyes, trying to find a way to barricade the door to her heart just a little more, so that maybe it wouldn’t hurt so much the next time Tommy smiled at her.

November 1913

Autumn came and went silently through the town of Small Heath. The residential area was completely taken up by dull houses and sooty factories, so Y/n always had to go searching for trees just beyond the cut if she wanted to see the change of the leaves before there weren’t any left. All that evidenced Autumn was a slight chill in the air and the constant heavy rain that deluged the narrow streets. 

Y/n and Mark had married in that quiet Autumn a month ago in a small ceremony attended by only Mark’s family and the Shelbys, including Tommy. Life since then had been sweet, Y/n had to admit. Mark absolutely doted on her, hanging on her every whim to keep her happy, and Y/n found herself a little besotted with being Mrs Mark Johnson too, much to her surprise. At the wedding reception, Tommy had done nothing more than offer a muttered congratulations and brood in the corner alone for the rest of the night. But for once in her life, Y/n couldn’t find it within herself to actually care what Tommy was doing, thoroughly intent on enjoying a day that was all about her.

Winter then took Autumn’s place. Freezing air bit at bare faces, the town blanketed by a persistent cover of grey cloud. Y/n pulled her coat even tighter around herself as she made her way to the Garrison, praying that she’d find Tommy there since he’d been putting great effort into avoiding her recently. As she neared the place she hoped she’d find the second oldest Shelby, Y/n felt firmly resolute about her plan to talk to him, as she knew his stubbornness all too well. She knew that he’d let the silence between them stretch on until the end of time if she didn’t do something about it. So she steeled herself as she reached the heavy doors of the Garrison and walked inside.

She was immediately hit by the familiar smell of stale alcohol and tobacco permeating the air, barely containing a shudder as her senses tried to get used to the offending scent. Y/n quickly scanned the main area and didn’t find her target, so she walked over to Harry, the barkeep, and smiled at him as he finished wiping a glass.

“Hi, Harry. Is Tommy here?” She asked, hoping he’d at least caught sight of him today.

“He’s in there,” Harry replied, glancing over at the snug and nodding in that direction.

“Thanks, Harry,” Y/n gave her best sweet smile as payment, feeling a little bad about not buying a drink.

She pulled open the door to the snug and felt triumphant as she finally laid eyes on Tommy. He didn’t even bother to try and conceal the heavy sigh he huffed when he made eye contact with her, strengthening Y/n’s resolve that she would confront him about his avoidance even further.

“Hello, Thomas,” Y/n opened the conversation, inviting herself to sit at the table with him. 

Tommy immediately brought out his pack of cigarettes, lit one and hastily shoved it between his lips as if he was trying to stop himself from speaking.

“What are you doing here?” He asked, smoke flowing out of his mouth with every word. 

Y/n was puzzled at the question, “Is this not a public place?” She asked her own question back but didn’t wait for a response, “I’ve been trying to meet with you for weeks now, Tommy, but you always had some convenient excuse to avoid me,”

Tommy kept his face even and calm, the only tell that he’d been found out being a minute twitch of his lip, “There’s always business to attend to these days, Y/n,” He offered his meagre reasoning, another hasty excuse to hopefully placate her.

“Business,” Y/n couldn’t help but scoff, “Tommy, we haven’t had a conversation as long as this one since my wedding!” She didn’t miss the way Tommy’s shoulders straightened at the mention of the wedding. Curious.

“Why have you really been avoiding me, Tom?” She asked, softening her voice a little in hopes that Tommy would be more liable to answer truthfully.

But just as he’d opened his mouth to speak, in waltzed Arthur, the very embodiment of awkward timing, barrelling in like a rearing stallion, voice booming as loud as gunfire. Y/n rolled her eyes but couldn’t fight the smile that rose to her lips as Arthur pressed a rough kiss to the top of her head. 

“And how’s married life treating the new Mrs Johnson, eh?” Arthur articulated his thinly veiled innuendo with a suggestive wink.

“Just fine, thank you, Arthur,” Y/n replied with a smirk, quite enjoying the way Arthur’s eyebrows rose into his hairline, surprised that she’d actually played along.

“I bet there’ll be tiny little versions of you running around Small Heath in no time at all, eh, love?” He garbled around the cork of a whiskey bottle he’d pulled out with his teeth, pouring the amber liquid into his glass.

“Well, that might not actually be the case,” Y/n smiled a little sadly, watching as Tommy sat up a little straighter, quirking a confused brow as a means to ask her to explain.

“Mark has been looking at a property in the countryside, about an hour away from here. If nobody outbids us we’ll be moving come New Year,” Y/n looked down at her hands, her fingers twisting themselves into knots as she tried to avoid Tommy’s penetrating eyes.

Arthur hummed but didn’t say anything on the matter, and Y/n knew Tommy wasn’t going to offer anything new, recognising that the contemplative look on his face meant silence for the foreseeable. So she felt compelled to continue on explaining herself.

“With all this talk of war getting closer and closer to us, we really want to settle down and start a family sooner rather than later,” She rambled, feeling a little interrogated even though neither man had said anything yet. 

As Y/n flicked her eyes over to Tommy apprehensively, she saw that his jaw was completely set and he was gripping his whiskey glass so tight that his knuckles were white and his fist was shaking a little. 

Y/n looked at him quizzically, trying to make him meet her eyes by some sort of telepathy, but Tommy’s gaze remained firmly fixed on his alcohol. She couldn’t understand why he’d be angry with her about this, her move hadn’t come as a shock to anyone who actually spoke to her often; it had been on the cards pretty much as soon as they were married. Maybe it was because Tommy thought she’d be happier here, maybe it was because he didn’t like her husband; how was she to know if he rebuffed her every attempt at communication?

Silence continued on for a minute before Arthur, characteristically oblivious to the tension, piped up again, “Well! The countryside, eh? Sounds marvellous, love,”

Tommy raised his eyebrows, as if in disbelief, and shook his head, dragging on the last fragments of his cigarette. Y/n muttered a quiet thanks to Arthur as he stood, saying something about another bottle of whiskey from his private collection to celebrate. Her eyes followed Arthur’s slightly drunken gait as he made his way out of the snug.

“Thomas, why are you sulking at me?” She interrogated immediately as the door shut.

Tommy stamped out his cigarette in the ash try, “I’m not sulking,” he replied, frowning.

“Well, you’re doing an excellent impression,” Y/n countered, sighing when Tommy’s lips didn’t even attempt a smile, “I just don’t understand why you can’t even pretend to be happy for me at least,”

Tommy’s shoulders sagged at that and he finally lifted his head up to meet Y/n’s eyes, “Don’t get upset ok?” He began carefully, and just by his tone of voice, Y/n knew she absolutely was going to get upset, “I just didn’t think you’d marry so soon, especially after our conversation in spring, you said he was like a pet dog, not a husband. Now all of a sudden you’re moving away? I know you Y/n, you love our town, what if you hate it in the country?”

Y/n’s face flushed hot, she was utterly incensed that Tommy thought these things about her marriage and apparently just chose to never say a word about it, “Firstly, if I remember correctly about that conversation in spring, you offered me no actually helpful advice when I was obviously asking for it!” Y/n was careful not to shout, so her voice came out like a hiss, “Then you practically encouraged me to marry him! Now you want to act as if you’re the font of all knowledge when it comes to my marriage.”

Tommy bit his lip and scrubbed a rough hand over his face, the way he did when he was trying not to get angry, “I just can’t help but think that your decisions have been too hasty, Y/n,” he supplied, any sweetness in his voice long gone.

The words wounded Y/n deeper than anything he’d said to her before, she felt the tears pricking at her eyes as she tried not to show that she was upset. All she’d ever wanted was this married life with him, but now that she’d moved on and accepted that it was never going to happen, Tommy chose to criticise her every decision, blissfully ignorant of the fact that she had worked so hard to get over him.

“I could hardly wait for you forever, Tom,” Y/n whispered, suddenly feeling exhausted as all the memories of her relationship with Tommy flashed in front of her eyes, she couldn’t help but feel it was such a waste, pining after him for all that time. Such a waste to crave the affections of a man who didn’t pay enough attention to her to notice she was utterly in love with him.

“I don’t know what you mean,” Tommy finally said, looking away from Y/n’s tearful eyes.

“If you had such strong opinions on the choices I made, who I was going to marry, where I was going to live, maybe you should’ve voiced them while you still could’ve done something about it,” Y/n stood as soon as she finished her speech, walking towards the door when she was certain Tommy wasn’t going to speak again.

Tommy didn’t call after her when she left.

February 1917

The fire crackled distantly as Y/n stared blankly into the flames, amber light casting lonely shadows onto the walls of her cottage home. The room was near silent, but the thud of her heart in her ears was almost deafening. 

She clutched a telegram in her trembling hands and didn't bother to fight her tears as she read it for the fourth or fifth time, hoping this time she might make sense of the words written there on the page. But she didn’t know whether she couldn’t understand the sentences or just couldn’t believe the words were true.

Before the war hit England in July 1914, Y/n and Mark had spent a wonderfully happy, albeit short, married life. A few months before Mark was shipped off to France like every other man fit to fight, he worked as a clerk in the postal office of their little village, while Y/n looked after their house. She tended the garden too and often found peace planting flowers and thinking up new arrangements. Mark would come home every evening and greet Y/n with a kiss on her cheek before they sat down to eat dinner. Life was peaceful and picture perfect, no fighting, no drunkards lining the streets, no constant threat of crime. Y/n would be lying if she said she didn’t miss the chaos of Small Heath at least a little bit, but somewhere between their move to the country and Mark’s constant devotion, Y/n well and truly fell in love with him.

Now, as Y/n looked around her desolate sitting room, she realised she had absolutely nothing to prove that their love had ever happened. No matter how hard they had tried, God wouldn’t bless them with a child, and in the suffocating silence of this house, Y/n suddenly ached with longing to hear the patter of little feet running into her arms. At least she’d be comforted by the knowledge that a piece of their father resided still in this cottage, could look at their faces and still see his eyes looking back. But there was nothing, just utter loneliness.

Up until now, Y/n had grasped at any small shred of hope that Mark would return, ever since he left three years ago. She wrote to him every week, prayed for him every night, even though she wasn’t sure there was anyone listening anymore. She wished for his safe return and dreamed of the day he would warm their bed again. But now, there was no hope left in all the Earth that Y/n could beg for. There was no marriage, no husband to speak of as Y/n sat completely alone in this world, still clinging to that damned letter, her tears ruining the ink that spelled the end of her life.

Mark Johnson - Killed In Action.

July 1919

Y/n stepped off the train and took a heaving breath in as she tried to calm her nerves. Tendrils of anxiety curled around her chest as she carefully walked up the steps to leave the station, she knew she was only a short walk away from her home town and the odd need to run away was rising through her body.  

Only the month prior, Y/n had sold her cottage in the countryside, finally accepting that nothing was keeping her tied to that place anymore, accepting that she couldn’t fit in without Mark. In the village, every corner she turned was a reminder of her husband, the route he used to walk to work, their favourite spot in the park, the station where she'd kissed him for the last time. She twisted her wedding ring around her finger nervously, she’d kept it on even after Mark's memorial service, it seemed a simple service she could do her husband to wear it, to remember him every day.

Y/n decided to rent a flat just down the road from where she’d grown up, and the familiarity of the streets comforted her as she entered her new home, dropping her few belongings in the hallway. It wasn’t much, but as a woman alone Y/n didn’t really see the point of buying a big house with no one else to keep her company. She sagged against the door, suddenly overwhelmed with the urge to get a whiskey, so she decided to leave the flat for a while and hoped that the Garrison would clear her head.

Almost as soon as she opened the door to the pub, Y/n could hear John’s familiar voice shouting over to someone at the bar and her eyes immediately landed on all of the Shelbys sat around a table, drinking various spirits and pints of ale. The relief she felt as she counted the boys and noted that they were all intact and alive was brief, she couldn't believe her bad luck that she had run into every Shelby the minute she set foot back in Small Heath. Y/n quickly scurried up to the bar, hopefully unnoticed by the family, deciding that she definitely wasn't having this reunion sober.

She had barely taken a sip of her whiskey when a voice called to her from across the room, "Well isn't this a sight for sore bloody eyes," Y/n heard Polly's familiar drawl and didn't need to look up from her glass to know all the attention was suddenly on her. Y/n gave up on the dainty sipping and knocked back the rest of her whiskey as the Shelbys began to descend like vultures to their prey. She focussed on the way the alcohol spread through her body, warming her and giving her that little bit more confidence as she gave a tight hug to her surrogate mother, "Hi, Pol," she said with a smile.  

"Now what the 'ell are you doing back 'ere, love?" Arthur spoke as he nodded to the barkeep to refill your glass.

Y/n sighed, overwhelmed by the sudden questioning even though it was only Arthur who had asked anything, "You ok?" Polly whispered, squeezing her arm. Y/n nodded quickly and took another gulp of whiskey, "I wasn't counting on seeing you all so suddenly, I only got here half an hour ago!" She laughed nervously, "But now's as good a time as any to say I've moved back here. Surprise!" There was a chorus of congratulations and happy remarks, but there was only one person's face Y/n searched for, and she finally felt like she was home when she found Tommy's blue eyes.

He looked different, older definitely, but there was a cold harshness in his eyes that Y/n had never seen before. She shivered at what those eyes might have seen in France.

"It's good to have you back round here, Y/n," Tommy said lowly, and Y/n felt like everyone else in the room had faded away as she let Tommy's presence wash over her.

"Let's get a bottle to celebrate!" Arthur boomed, ruffling her hair like he did when she was a child, "Where's that husband of yours?" Y/n sucked in a sharp breath at the tactless question, fighting back tears as she tried to remember that it wasn't their fault if they didn't know Mark had passed.

"Probably at home looking after the kids, eh, Y/n?" John chimed in, nausea rising in Y/n's stomach as she tried to get a word in edgewise before someone said something they would regret.

"Nah, he's probably avoiding the pub, you know he can't handle his booze," Tommy was the one to pipe up that time and Y/n hated the cruel edge to his laugh, she'd hoped he'd grown up enough to get over his childish dislike of her husband.

"Tommy," Polly warned in that low, threatening voice of hers, picking up on Y/n's quickened breathing and tearful eyes. But Tommy carried on laughing, oblivious to his Aunt's insistence that they stop making fun, "You have to admit, he's always been a bit of a boring bastard," and there was the last straw. Before she'd even told her arm to move, Y/n's hand was flying at Tommy's face, slapping him right across the cheek so hard his head actually looked like it might detach from his neck. It happened so quickly Y/n wasn't quite sure if she had actually done it or not, but the boys had stopped laughing instantaneously, and the way Polly physically flinched told her she had genuinely just smacked Tommy Shelby. "How dare you," Y/n hissed before she could think better of it, her voice cold as steel, "My husband is dead, Thomas, have some fucking respect," The entire pub had gone silent, all staring intently at the scene unfolding, but wincing at Y/n's words, like they were watching a car accident happen right in front of them, too morbidly curious to look away. To his credit, John looked thoroughly ashamed of himself even though he hadn't said anything insulting and Arthur's eyes looked like they might pop out of his head, Y/n might have laughed had the cause been different. "Y/n, love, I'm sorry, we-" Arthur reached out as if to comfort her, but he cut off his sentence when Y/n flinched away from his touch, too overwhelmed to be crowded by him. She didn't know when she'd started to cry, but tears were flooding down her cheeks and pooling on the floorboards at her feet.

"Right. John, Arthur? Time to go," Polly insisted, ever the observant one, she knew that Tommy and Y/n had some talking to do. Neither man moved at first, but all it took was for Polly to level them with her menacing glare and they were hurrying out of the pub faster than a horse at full gallop.

Tommy and Y/n stood in silence for a moment, Y/n being too scared to speak because she desperately didn't want to acknowledge that she'd just slapped him.

"Y/n, I'm so sorry," Tommy finally whispered, and his voice was so genuinely sincere that it broke the final shred of dignity that Y/n cared to hold onto, and she started to cry louder than she had even let herself cry at Mark's memorial. Tommy opened his arms and that was all the prompting Y/n needed to fall straight into his chest, she sniffled as he cradled her head against his steadily beating heart, he shushed her softly and held her tight, "Come on now, love, let's go in the other room yeah? We can talk away from all the prying eyes,"

Y/n allowed herself to be led into the snug, struck by how familiar it was even after all these years, Tommy lowered her carefully onto the couch, as if he was afraid she might fall over.

"I'm sorry for hitting you, Tommy," Y/n babbled as soon as her breathing evened out, "It's not your fault, you didn't know Mark was dead,"

Tommy rubbed his cheek and smiled lightly, "Don't apologise, I deserved it. You've got some power in that hand, you know? Not sure any man has ever hit me that hard," Y/n giggled despite herself, sniffing and wiping at her face to dry the tears.

"So how come you're moving back here?" Tommy asked as she sagged into the couch, he avoided asking about Mark's death, sensing that she'd talk about it in her own time.

"Everything back at the village just reminds me of him, I couldn't stand it. Every time I left the house I couldn't stop thinking about how I waved him off to France, to fucking war, and didn't know he was never coming back. So I just isolated myself, only left the house to buy food, never made any friends because I couldn't bring myself to walk around without him by myside, I couldn't walk around as if nothing had happened," Tommy just hummed, knowing there was more to say and just waiting for Y/n to go on, "So when I finally sold the house, I decided to make a new start somewhere I knew would be easy to fit in,"

"You were right, you know," Y/n laughed into the quiet of the room, "I really did miss it round here. I missed how unpredictable it was, the routine of the village was hard to get used to but..." She teared up all over again as her husband's smiling face flashed in her mind, "I really did love him,"

"I'm sorry," was all Tommy said as Y/n swallowed around the lump in her throat.

"I didn't think I'd fall in love with him so deeply. At the start, my main reason for marrying him was because I thought I had no other option," Y/n confessed, not entirely sure why she was spilling all of her secrets to the man she used to love.

"I always thought you liked him a lot either way," Tommy said, a confused edge to his tone, "You used to talk about him constantly,"

Y/n laughed a genuine laugh at that, reminded suddenly of herself at seventeen, "I only talked about him so much because I thought it would make you jealous,"

Tommy's head shot up at that, and Y/n was once again concerned about the structural integrity of his neck, "Jealous?" He reiterated, pausing the rolling of a new cigarette to stare at Y/n expectantly.

"Yeah, I used to hint at you all the time about my very massive crush on you. But for all the good your intelligence apparently does, you never got it. Or, you know, you were just trying to let me down gently,"

Tommy looked like he was about to choke, or possibly stop breathing all together, "Hold on, you liked me?"

Y/n rolled her eyes at Tommy, assuming he was overreacting on purpose, "I know, it's embarrassing Tommy, don't make fun of me. But yes, I didn't just like you. I loved you, Tommy, ever since I was eleven,"

"Oh my god," Tommy breathed, suddenly struggling to get his rolling paper to stick.

"What? There's no need to be dramatic, Thomas," Y/n said, voice snippy due to her slight mortification.

"I just... I liked you too, for years, but I thought you didn't have any feelings for me since you were going out with Mark,"

Y/n was sure her blood had turned cold in her veins, either that or someone must have dumped a bucket of ice over her head, "Are you serious right now? Tommy, you should've just told me! I was being so obvious with my hints and you just refused to see it!"

Tommy looked indignant as he gave up on rolling his cigarette, "Well, why didn't you just tell me!" Y/n couldn't deny that that was an excellent point, "Anyway, I was sure someone as beautiful as you couldn't possibly have feelings for someone like me,"

Y/n slumped in her seat, overwhelmed by the revelations, she smiled as she imagined how she would've reacted to this information when she was a teenager all those years ago.

"Oh, Tommy, you're an idiot!" Tommy started to laugh and Y/n couldn't help soon joining in, feeling weightless for the first time since the war. She gazed into Tommy's eyes again, searched for the same look they'd had when he was in his early twenties, even though she knew she wouldn't find it. He'd changed so much, they both had, but in that moment she wondered if they really could just be the same two kids who loved each other so much, couldn't help but wonder how their lives would've played out if they'd both had the courage to admit their feelings.

Y/n didn't know when it happened, but their faces were suddenly only a hair's width apart, she could feel his breath whispering over her mouth, he smelled sweet despite the tobacco that clung to him. Y/n's eyes fluttered closed out of instinct, her heart thudding as she let herself be intoxicated by Tommy's entire being. But just as their noses touched, she sprung away from Tommy like he'd burned her.

"I'm sorry, that was-"

"No, don't apologise," Y/n cut him off before he could start spiralling, "Tommy... I've loved you since the day I met you, and... I think I always will love you, no matter what happens, or what has happened. You mean the world to me," she stared at her hands, afraid of the vulnerability she felt as she laid her heart at Tommy's feet, "But you have to understand... I loved my husband too, and I can't help but feel like I'm betraying him, because I'm falling for you so fast all over again. I'd - I'd feel so guilty if I rushed into something with you when he loved me so much before he passed. I can't just forget him."

"I won't ask you to," Tommy replied, tentatively putting his warm hand on Y/n's knee, making her look up at him, "But I have loved you too, and I love you right now, and I'll love you tomorrow. I won't ever be able to forgive myself if I let you get away again, not now that I know you feel the same. I want to be with you, whenever you're ready. We can take it slow,"

Y/n was breathless, like all the air in the room had suddenly been sucked out, she was completely consumed by thousands of thoughts running through her head all at once, "What does slow look like?" She whispered, entirely swept up by the ocean of love in Tommy's eyes.

"It starts like this," He murmured softly, taking Y/n by the hand and brushing his lips against her knuckles, "Then it might continue if you'll accompany me to dinner soon?"

"I'd like that Tommy," Y/n replied, a wave of relief flowing through her body, grateful that she could find love again at her own pace.

Tommy leaned in slowly and placed the most gentle and reverent kiss on Y/n's cheek, looking so deeply into her eyes that she thought he might be gazing directly at her soul, his voice was full of adoration as he said, "I promise I won't ever let you go,"

[historia-vitae-magistras]

butt?

I had to substitute it for arse, sorry. Exploratory fic I began to explore some character dynamics and what the lifestyle of 4 growing nations and their mother in their last real time together would be like in a slightly Post-Roman Iron Age estate as the Migration period picks up and Germanic peoples cross the North Sea to make a home. I believe of these earlier themes have their origin with @balladofthewhitehorse.

5th Century AD, Cumbria

"Rhys," Alasdair appeared at the fence line, his face gloomy. Rhys had stopped here for his mid-day meal halfway between where the shepherds had herded the sheep in the northernmost glen and their home behind on the hill. It'd been a long two days in the hills. He offered the cider flask to his brother as Alasdair approached, his frown deepening. It wasn't raining, and the day's work wouldn't have been hard. Bad news, then. It was always bad news.

"What is it this time?"

"Rot in the south store."

"Oats, rye or wheat?" Rhys asked. The rye they might go without, but the rain hadn't come so early that anything else should rot.

"Oats,"

"Fuck." Rhys sat on the low wall of flagstones and pinched the bridge of his nose. "Fuck,"

He glanced up. His brother looked even more dour. "Gods, what else?"

"Seven horses," Alasdair said, sitting beside Rhys, boneless and upset.

Rhys gaped at him. "Seven? That's three more than were sick yesterday!"

"It's spreading." Alasdair shrugged helplessly. "I took the healthy ones into the third stables, and it didn't help."

"Is it distemper?"

"I didn't think so," Alasdair said. "They weren't so feverish, and there wasn't pus, but now I don't know.

"So, no horses to sell this year. At least half the oats are gone."

"Rhys." Alasdair's ingot grey gaze fell heavily, and Rhys glanced at his brother.

"I know," He said, and Alasdair didn't look convinced. He looked at his elder brother with a firm look. "I know."

"If we can't pay the tributes…"

He thought of the mustached helmets of the German kings and exhaled. "We don't know that we can't pay. There's plenty to sell."

"It's not just a lack of goods I'm worried about. It's been a bad year for everyone. There might not be anyone to sell to."

"There must be," Rhys said, pulling his cloak tighter over his shoulders. "There will be. We'll figure it out."

"I suppose all we can do is pray," Alasdair said.

Rhys frowned. Alasdair was the one with a mind for numbers, but he always worried, and they always managed before. So what if the horses would not fetch the total price if they were ill come market day? There was still the wool, the fine worked saddles he and Alasdair had made the year before, and plenty of cattle, sheep, honey and mead to sell. There were options. They had options.

"I'll see to the horses; if none of them die, we'll be fine," Alasdair said. "We have ore too. I might get a good price for my boar spears."

"Maybe," Rhys said. His hope was teetering precariously on the assumption that his brother was overly worried.

There was an unspoken sense of doom between them, both praying their worries were unfounded. Rhys grimaced after they parted ways at the outer gate, Alasdair marching off to the stables and Rhys to the poultry yard and the hives. One of the women in his mother's service alerted him to the fact that another of the hives had gone dark with rot. Honey was expensive, and now there wouldn't be enough to sell and use themselves over the long winter. Rhys waved her off with a pinched-off smile.

He stood in the poultry yard for a long moment, leaning against the half gate that kept the hens, quail, and ducks safe in their enclosure and away from the hounds. He watched Arthur tumble after a goose, laughing as it squawked and ducked him. Their dinner pail of scraps and grain was sitting neglected as he played, but Rhys looked on, letting him play. They'd have to keep more honey than what he'd wanted to sell, if only for Arthur's sake. Honey cakes with stored apples and cheese or on bread were one of those precious things that would cheer him when the worst of the winter gloom gripped him worse than any of them. Arthur rolled to a halt, cackling as the goose bobbed angrily and finally noticed him.

"Rhys!" He grinned, leaping to his feet and making a beeline for him. He exhaled a loud "oomph" as Arthur knocked into him, throwing his arms around him. "You're back!"

"I was only gone a night," He laughed. "How is Mother? And where is your cloak? Have you lost it again?"

"The same," Arthur said. "Maybe a little better. She laughed this morning when I fell right on my arse out of bed. Bridgie pushed me."

"Good! And you probably deserved it. You kick in your sleep." He replied, and his smile was genuine. Mother had at least made an effort to shake her recent gloom then. She'd been thinner, paler, and sadder than he'd ever seen her in the last few years, and it hadn't gotten any better as the days became shorter. "And your cloak?"

"I forgot it!"

"You'll catch your death." Rhys ruffled his hair. "Hurry and feed the birds and come in for dinner."

[reidsaurora]

"I Choose You" ~ S. Reid

Summary: What happens when the lowly stable boy, Spencer, and the royalist of princesses, Y/N, fall in love?

Pairing: Stable Boy!Spencer Reid x Royalty!Fem!Reader

Word Count: 1,830

Content Warning: explicit language, slightly suggestive if you squint, minor character death sorta, mentions of food, time period appropriate sexism/classism i guess (Reader is expected to get married to a prince), a mild mention of ✨️manure✨️

Genre: Fluff, maybe a lil angsty in some parts buy mostly fluffy

Originally Written: 02/24/2023

Beta Read By: @dungeons-are-too-cold

Criminal Minds masterlist can be found here!

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"𝐈 𝐰𝐚𝐧𝐭 𝐭𝐨 𝐫𝐮𝐧 𝐚𝐰𝐚𝐲 𝐰𝐢𝐭𝐡 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐭𝐨 𝐚 𝐩𝐥𝐚𝐜𝐞 𝐰𝐡𝐞𝐫𝐞 𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐫𝐞 𝐢𝐬 𝐨𝐧𝐥𝐲 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐦𝐞." - 𝐀𝐮𝐭𝐡𝐨𝐫 𝐔𝐧𝐤𝐧𝐨𝐰𝐧

I knew it was a selfish, spoiled, first-world problem, but I needed to get out of that kingdom, and fast.

I sprinted through the halls, one thing on my mind—hopping on my horse and riding somewhere far away from this hell hole. I heard my father yelling, "Y/N! Get back here!" but I didn't care. The exit was in my sights. Freedom.

My heels dug into the mud, my dress surely had dirt on the ends, but I couldn't have cared less. I flung the door to the stable open, holding my breath as I tried to find Willow's saddle.

"Hey, slow down. It's not as if the castle is under siege," a familiar voice chuckled behind me.

I took a deep breath before turning to face him, slightly regretting it as I breathed in the horrid smell of manure. Though, I needed it in order to face him with proper composure "Hi, Spencer."

With the same soft eyes he always had, he looked me over, noticing my distress. "What's wrong?"

My shoulders settled as I realized it was just the two of us. I could be as honest as I wanted to with Spencer, and he'd always accept it. Much unlike my parents.

It was always like that with Spencer. Sure, he was just the stable boy and I was royalty, and if they ever found out I was the slightest bit kind to Spencer, they'd most likely put me on house arrest. But there was always something about him, something inviting, like you wanted to tell him your life story and let him analyze it for you.

So, I did what I always did when I heard that soft, inviting voice. I answered. "Father's brought in prospects again and he's angry that I haven't chosen anyone yet."

"Again?" he said, nearly laughing in disbelief. "You'd think His Majesty would figure out your plan by now."

"My plan?" I asked, cocking an eyebrow. "OK, stable boy, just what plan do you speak of?"

He tapped a finger against his chin, his eyebrows furrowing as he thought. "Hmm, your plan to hop on your horse and ride into the sunset, going to a faraway country and starting a bakery."

"A bakery?" I nearly choked in bewilderment. "I don't even know how to prepare my own tea! Could you imagine me attempting to bake breads and muffins?"

"Ooh, I got it!" he exclaimed, clapping his hands together and playing up the satire. "You're going to start your own tailor shop!"

I giggled, shaking my head. "Who's going to teach me to sew? You?"

Deadpan, he answered, "I do know how to."

I scoffed, my hands flying to my waist. "You do not."

He nodded, looking away from my face and down at his twiddling fingers. "My mother taught me. Before she got too sick. That way I'd know how to fix my buttons after she was…"

I swallowed hard, a touch of sadness panging in my heart for him. I already knew about his mother, the way she'd gotten sick and left him orphaned. It was the whole reason he'd come to the castle, so he'd have just enough money for food on the table, or in his lunch pail rather.

The sound of my mother calling, "Y/N!" startled us from our thoughts, her sudden shouting frightening me to the point of an irregular heartbeat. She was approaching the stables fast, and by the tone in her voice, it was clear she wasn't happy.

"Come on!" I whispered, grabbing one of the saddles from where it hung and shoving it into Spencer's hands, our fingers brushing against each other's for only a millisecond.

His face might as well have had "panic" inked across it. "What are you doing?"

"Buying us time," I answered, struggling to hold my dress out of my way as I climbed onto Willow's back. "You can take Father's horse, since he's apparently getting too old to ride it anyway."

He tossed the saddle onto Copper's back, throwing himself up onto the stallion with ease. Curses upon all men and the fact that they don't have to wear these stupid dresses.

"Y/N, get down from there!" Mother called as she burst through the doors and saw us, but it was too late. Spencer and I had already started off, laughing as we raced away from the stables.

His hair blew in the wind, a wide smile sitting on his lips, the first I'd seen in a long time. "Where to first, M'lady?" he chuckled, speeding ahead of me.

I scoffed but couldn't help myself from giggling at his childish behavior. "Hey!" I shouted, racing to catch up to him. "I was thinking," I laughed as I passed him, watching as his eyes widened, "Paris! Or maybe Rome!"

"Don't you think it's a bit far for the horses?"

I took a deep breath of the fresh spring air, something I hadn't smelled in months, it seemed like. "We'll just have to find a way to manage."

Soon enough, we were all out of breath, deciding to stop in a beautiful field of wildflowers, overlooking lusciously green hills and valleys.

We hopped off our respective horses, tying their bridles to a nearby tree and collapsing into the flowers in a fit of giggles.

"We should do that more often," Spencer got out, his chest puffing with exasperated breaths.

"What? Run away from my parents? Believe me, if I could get away with it, I would."

"You could."

I rolled onto my side to face him, propping myself up with one arm. "What?"

"You could totally run away and do what you want. You could be a baker, a seamstress, a teacher, an author, or whatever you'd like. You could do it if you tried."

I looked him over, suddenly feeling the urge to kiss away the pout on his perfectly plump lips. I swallowed hard and shook away the thought immediately. "You sound like you speak from experience, stable boy."

He shook his head. "I'm just saying. You have the status. You could leave if you wanted."

"Believe me, I couldn't abdicate the throne if I were the last person on earth. Somehow, even if both my parents were gone, they'd still find a way to tell me all the things they expected of me."

I wanted to press on, to ask why exactly he was so passionate about the subject, but held my tongue. A proper lady always knows when to speak and when to bite her tongue, my mother's voice echoed in my mind.

Spencer turned onto his side to face me better, propping himself up on his surprisingly thick bicep. Why was I noticing it? "M'lady-"

"Y/N, it's Y/N. You of all people will never have to call me M'lady, Her Royal Highness, or any of those other stupid titles."

"Y/N," he clarified, looking a bit like he'd just licked a postage stamp. Must've felt strange falling out of his mouth. "I'm just a stable boy. It's all I'll ever be. But you can do whatever you'd like. You're royalty, for heaven's sakes! Anyone who didn't allow you to do what you want could be burned at the stake."

My face softened as I watched his expression change to one of grief. He was regretting his decision to become a stable boy after his mother died, I had realized. I sighed, lying down flat beside him and looking up at the cloudy sky. "Well, what do you really wish to do?"

He exhaled, lying down beside me. It was like that a lot, I'd noticed. When I moved, he moved. And when he moved, I moved. Like gravity. "I'd like to go to college. Learn how to read, specifically Latin. Oh, and learn about math. And rhetoric. And anything they'd teach me, really."

He let out a deep breath, basking in the afternoon air, I presumed. "What would you do?"

Kiss you. And hold your hands. And run away with you. "Um, I'm not quite sure."

"Come on. There has to be something in that beautiful brain."

My head shot up, my eyes widening in confusion at what he'd just said. "Beautiful?"

He blushed, his cheeks burning red. "Well, it doesn't take a scientist to see you're beautiful."

"You think I'm beautiful, Spencer?"

The heels of his hands dug into his eyes, hiding his embarrassment-ridden face. "And this why you can't go to college, Spencer," he mumbled. "Too stupid."

I slapped his dirt covered chest, realizing that it was the second time in one day that I'd touched him. I liked it. "You aren't stupid! You know how to keep the horses alive. I wouldn't even be able to keep myself alive if it weren't for maids and cooks."

I pulled his hands away from his face, his deep hazel eyes burning an ever so pleasant hole right through me. "Did you really mean it? Do you really think I'm beautiful?"

His tongue darted out to wet his lips, and suddenly I could think of multiple other places I wanted his tongue to be. "I do. I think you're the prettiest girl in the whole kingdom. Possibly even the whole world if I knew what it was like."

Suddenly, the cool air of spring burned right through me and I found myself unable to resist the brunet stable boy I craved so much. "Do you really wish to know what I'd do if I could leave?"

He nodded, looking up at me through long, soft eyelashes.

I tossed myself over him, my dress falling around the both of us. "I'd grab your hand," I started, slotting my left hand in his right, "and I'd run away with you. Go wherever you want. We could sail to America and join Vaudeville. We could go to Greece and become olive farmers. We could go to China and study philosophy. I don't care. As long as I could be with you."

His face softened once again, his thumb swiping soft lines on the back of my hand. "Is that why you never say yes to any of your father's prospects?"

I nodded, thinking Fuck it, before leaning down, allowing my lips to glide into his. It was just as pleasant, just as sweet, as I'd always imagined. His hands moved to my waist, settling on the taut material of my now dirty, mud-spattered dress. I tried to pull away first, but his succulent lips chased mine for another kiss, his tongue slipping into my mouth for a split second. I already craved more of it as soon as his mouth pulled away from mine.

"I would never say yes to one of those pompous, pampered, pretty-haired pricks. I want you. Out of everyone in the world, you are the one I'd choose."

His hands darted to my cheeks, pulling me into his swollen, red lips once again. "You want to know something, M'lady? I choose you, too."

"𝐁𝐞𝐜𝐚𝐮𝐬𝐞 𝐈 𝐚𝐥𝐰𝐚𝐲𝐬 𝐡𝐚𝐯𝐞 𝐚 𝐜𝐡𝐨𝐢𝐜𝐞, 𝐈 𝐜𝐡𝐨𝐨𝐬𝐞 𝐥𝐨𝐯𝐞." - 𝐃𝐞𝐞𝐩𝐚𝐤 𝐂𝐡𝐨𝐩𝐫𝐚

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Aaaahh, I'm so excited to finally post this!!! Idk why it's taken me so long to post but I am so excited to finally be posting it! As always, a huge thank you to Georgia for beta reading this and helping it reach its fullest potential! I love you so so so much!!! 🫶🏻

This was written for @imagining-in-the-margins's monthly challenge, which was themed "Damsel/Dude in Distress" this month! I am so excited to finally be participating in another one of these! I obviously went with the Royalty!AU prompt, but it was actually quite hard to pick a prompt because they all intrigued me a lot!

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[rohirric-hunter]

future & ghost for hathellang?👀

@isi7140 All these Hathellang questions kind of string together so I'm gonna answer them together. From this ask game. Also spoilers for all of The Song of Waves and Wind that's currently out. And also this got kinda long. And certain parts aren't set in stone yet, like how Léonys and Hathellang meet up again in Umbar. I'm still contemplating Umbar stuff and figuring out how I want to make my characters' story go.

Also I feel like I should say that Hathellang is not a reliable narrator, any more than Léonys is. Even less so, in some parts of this.

ghost: Who or what haunts your OC? What happened? How do they live with their ghosts?

Imagine you're Hathellang. You grew up alone. When people ask about your parents, you shrug, and don't say anything, and let them think that you don't remember them. The truth is, you do -- your mother, at least. You were just old enough to understand what was happening the day she took you on a trip to Bree-town, to go shopping, she said, and sat you down on the edge of the Boar Fountain, and told you to wait for her there. You waited there for five days, swiping food from a nearby vendor when the hunger became too much to take, though thinking back you believe he must have seen you, and let you take it out of pity. On the fifth day, you were caught by a guard, but let off with a warning, and when he let you go you had run off, leaving the plaza where your mother left you for the first time and hiding in the stables of the Prancing Pony. Bob had found you there sooner, rather than later, and asked you what you were doing and where your parents were, and for the first time, you had shrugged, too busy trying to hold the tears in for words. "I see," he'd said, and he'd gone off, and come back some time later with half a plate of stew and a cup of water and told you not to be spooking the horses and ponies.

You cried, once he left you alone, and then you never cried about it again. Crying is a lot of energy, energy that you needed to beg and steal and keep yourself on your feet. Locks are hard to pick with shaking hands. You're called far worse things than orphan; street-rat, gutter scum, thief. You can't afford to dwell on it, so you don't think about it, and by the time you're in a place where you can think about it, it's buried so deep that you think it's easier to let it lie.

fear: What is your OC's greatest fear? What do they do when confronted with it? Are they open with their fear, or do they hide it away?

People like Bob would give you clothes, or food, or little toys, but the clothes would wear out, and the food would only last so long, and the toys didn't teach you any useful skill you could trade for clothes and food, and none of them seemed to know or care that you spent cold winter nights in narrow alleys with only one blanket, or sometimes none at all, and some nights you went to sleep with no real idea if you would wake up in the morning. The moments of pity they have for you only go so far, and they're never as many as the moments of anger, when they catch you stealing and never wonder why, and the more it happens the more bitter and angry about it you become.

Then there's a guard who doesn't want to do paperwork, and Léonys, and she's angry just like everyone else, and she yells at you and tells you off for stealing, until eventually she doesn't. You think it's more boredom than actual acceptance, though. Everywhere in the Hackberry House you can only see bare tolerance -- the other children, who would never dream of stealing, tolerate you because Lady Hackberry took you in, and Lady Hackberry tolerates you because taking in children with nowhere else to go is what she does. You simply cannot bring yourself to believe that they actually want you, and to be tolerated but not wanted is more than you can bear, so you leave, slipping out of the House without saying goodbye one morning and running back to Bree, where you are disliked enough, but at least people are honest about it.

Léonys finds you on the hill behind the Training Hall in the late afternoon, where you have sat most of the day under an overgrown bush that no one has bothered to trim because they cannot see it, hugging your knees to your chest, and contemplating crying about it, though you hadn't really got 'round to it. "Are you coming home for dinner?" she asks shortly, pulling her cloak tight about her against the late October chill.

"What?" you ask, surprised to see her and not quite comprehending her words.

"Dinner," she says. "It'll be ready in a couple of hours. Are you coming? Gareth is making stuffed cabbages."

You think, as you follow her back up the road to the Hackberry House, that you might love her.

There's no call to be so angry, once you realize your new place, and in response the rest of the world seems to become less angry, and though you do not stop stealing, for now you have more mouths than just your own to feed, you can afford to pick and choose your contracts. Mostly you do work for the wealthy elite of Bree who have petty beef with each other that they refuse to resolve in a courtroom like respectable folk, instead choosing to hire people of your talents to prove esoteric points to one another. When such work is not available, and the only burglary jobs are ones you would prefer not to do -- taking food from those who have little enough already, or weapons from the guards who defend the town -- you are, for the first time, in a position to turn them down, for in Lady Hackberry's house you had learned the art of tailoring, and while there is not so much money in that as there is in burglary, it's honest work, and it's safe.

That safety slowly begins to have value to you, as you slowly learn to accept that there's a future for you, in a land that you love despite how difficult it can be to live in, with Lady Hackberry, who took you in, with the children, who you swear will never know hardship like you did, and with Léonys, who comes to love you as fiercely as you love her.

And then the Plot comes for you.

Léonys runs headfirst into danger, and you follow her, because of course you do, as if you could do anything else. The danger worries you, far more than it would have a decade before, but you worry more for her than for yourself. She has no idea of when it's wise to say no, and she feels so strongly for anyone in any sort of trouble. It's one of the things you love about her, but you know it will land both of you in more trouble than you can handle, eventually.

There is trouble, and plenty of it, but it all turns out to be worth it, and you find that the two of you are able to manage it, unbelievable as it seems. When it is all over, you promise each other, you will go home, and everything will go back to normal. But when it is all over you find that it is not all over after all. You find yourself accompanying a party of Elves south, to cover the trail of a company that had departed from Rivendell in some secrecy, and then you find yourself drawn into the deep dark of the Mines of Moria, and one thing leads to another and then you're storming Dol Guldur, and then following Nona to Rohan on a dream, and standing against invading armies and a wizard. When you see Léonys again at Helm's Deep, something is wrong, but there is no time to pursue it, and then you are off again, following Aragorn and the Grey Company to Gondor, and it is not until after the battle before Minas Tirith that you have a chance to ask.

You do not ask, though, because you can feel a shadow that hangs over Léonys, and you wonder why she has not told you herself. You find the truth out months later in Naerband, and it is a long time before you can bring yourself to leave her side again. You fear your worry might be overbearing; there are few things in the world more dangerous than Saruman, and she has already weathered that. But a tiny part of your mind has entertained the idea that something might happen, some swift and terrible evil that you will be powerless to prevent, and the thought will not leave you. If something were to happen to her -- to the woman who saw something worthwhile in you when it seemed no one else did, who tracked you down and brought you home when you didn’t even know that you wanted to be brought home -- it doesn't really bear thinking about. So you don't.

future: What's the worst possible future for your OC? Are they taking steps to avoid that outcome? Are they even aware it's a possibility?

Léonys and you have both agreed that it is time to turn your road homeward, but first you agree to one last favor for Elessar; he wishes for you and Candaith to briefly represent him in the lands of Gondor to the West, and Queen Arwen wishes for you to assess threats to her husband’s safety, when he travels there himself. You ask if two strangers are best suited for this task.

"Two strangers who have already aided them much," Elessar says. "And the gossip might flow more freely among strangers than it would before those with more permanent positions at court."

Perhaps he is right, you think later, as you look a woman in the eye and tell her that where you come from, marriages between different peoples are not allowed. "Especially Elves," you say, marveling that she appears to be falling for this patently ridiculous lie that you've concocted, "for they tell strange tales about the gods, and if we are too welcoming then we might lose the truth of it ourselves."

"That is what we fear as well," she says. "Losing who we are to outsiders."

You think about that, as a man of Gondor stands before you and swears he would cut down an unsuspecting emissary again, given the chance. Tumúldo's wife looks you in the eye and asks if you stand beside the Heirs of Castamir, and you do not hesitate. The small blade you keep hidden in your sleeve finds its mark in Trastadir's shoulder, and as Nakási stands you draw your sword and stand beside her.

Some members of the Heirs of Castamir beg for mercy. They should have expected this, you think, when they chose to support pillaging corsairs from Umbar over their own people. They should have expected it when they invited a close friend of the King into their ranks. They should have expected it when one of their own took a blade to Tumúldo's back in front of his wife. It was no small labor that dug the shallow grave they lie in, when you and Nakási leave the house, bearing Tumúldo's body between you, and all of it done themselves.

"Gondor will pay for the death of Tumúldo," Nakási says to you. "A thousand times over it will pay."

"The Heirs of Castamir are no Men of Gondor," you say. "They are traitors."

"Are they?" Nakási asks. "Do all the other Men of Gondor condemn them, then? Are all the other people united in their support for Elessar? No other Men of Gondor would stoop to such levels?"

You think on how easy it was to find members of the Heirs in broad daylight. You think of the rumors of a traitor in Elessar's court. You think of Parthadan, and of Mauthoi. You say nothing.

"Will the death of my husband go unavenged?" Nakási demands.

You say nothing.

The tone of Nakási's voice fills you with fear, but when you meet with Elessar in Imloth Melui he does not seem to understand the danger from your account, though he takes your warning with the gravity it deserves. And days pass, and your fear slowly wanes as you travel Gondor at Elessar's side.

Then Léonys is gone -- taken by Nakási, and your fear stirs to new and further wakefulness, for Nakási has taken a child as well. Not a warrior or a traitor, but a boy of less than twelve summers who poses no threat to her or her Kindred of the Coins or to Umbar, and the action speaks worlds of her and the danger that she and hers pose to you and yours. You hope that Léonys has the good sense to not let Nakási know of her connection with Elessar, or with you. You know she does not.

Bruidis will not be parted from Rossaran, and comes with him to the Wave-hunter, and the spike of jealousy, that she has that choice, is new and ugly. Carandolion presses a favor into Nauriel's hands, and you turn away and hurry to the ship.

Candaith waits for you there, asks after you with concern in his eyes, and you force a smile and tell him you are fine, that this is no different than the months you had spent parted from Léonys when you had been caught up with the Iron Garrison, and she had traveled south. Candaith is not fooled, but he does not ask again.

You do not expect to find Horn of Rohan in the Shield Isles, deep enough in his cups that he does not recognize you until you speak. You ask him where Nona is, knowing full well he does not know, and do not even try to hide your scorn when he tells you to call him Driftwood. "Why are you running from her?" you ask him. "Don't you want to be with her?"

"Want?" Horn asks, wavering. "It's not about what I want."

"It most certainly is," you say. He scowls, and does not answer.

Sirgon's tale of Belondor, the once-warden of Umbar, is of little interest to you. You are disappointed, but not surprised, by the rashness and anger of the former Steward of Gondor, but you have more important worries to occupy you -- that is until you find yourself staring down the cold steel of a blade held to your throat at his wife's command. Mêshka watches Sirgon stonily as he speaks, and you watch her, and then she gestures for her men to stand down. That is strange, you think, for in her place you would have done no such thing. Sirgon is a friend, but looking at him through Mêshka's eyes, you see no friend at all, but Saruman, and Thraknûl, and a name rises to mind like some gross flotsam bobbing at the surface of a tidepool, fouling clear waters; a name that Léonys thinks you do not know, but she has spoken it through tears in her sleep often enough that you do, though you have no face to match it with: Morflak.

Sirgon walks away from his encounter alive, and you consider, quietly, that if you had been in Mêshka's place he would not have. Indeed, had Mêshka resolved to slay him where he stood, you do not know that you would have drawn your blade in your companion’s defence. You aren't sure if this realization bothers you or not. (It would bother Léonys.)

When you see Léonys again, meeting eyes with her across the fountain in the Citadel, it is all you can do not to throw caution to the wind and run to her. But then Azagath is there, and you cannot help but notice the way she shrinks away as he approaches, though his eyes are not on her. When he does at last look at her, after Jajax enters and reveals you to your foes, and Léonys in turn reveals herself, recognition sparks in his eyes, and Léonys' voice trembles when she speaks, though she holds her head high and does not let him see the fear that is so obvious to you. It is not until you and she and Jajax and Thorongil and Nimrodel flee the Citadel, and they have all followed your lead as you duck into a quiet alley in the Fleet-fast where you will have a moment of privacy, that she throws herself towards you, arms tight around your neck, and you can feel the damp of tears on your shirt as you return the embrace.

"Azagath," you whisper, and she flinches at the name, "what did he do to you?"

"Nothing," she says, too quickly, you think. She hesitates. "Nothing directly."

Nauriel swears that she will see Azagath and Nakási dead, and privately you think she is going to have to get to them first, but neither of you get to them during the fraught pursuit through the depths beneath the Mâkhda Khorbo. Perhaps, you think later, this is for the best. When you all stumble out of the cave hours later, exhausted and drained and with nothing useful to show for your efforts, you find your head has cleared somewhat. You are still angry, very angry, but you see with a clearer eye that your mission has been a success. All the hostages are free. That part, at least, can be considered a success. It ought to satisfy you more than it does.

You don't have very much sympathy for Belondor as he struggles to come to terms with Azagath's betrayal. Nauriel wanted to kill him, seeing nothing but the coin he wears on his breast. She would have, if you hadn't grabbed her by the shoulder and hissed that he was the only reason her son still lived, that there was nothing you or Léonys or Jajax or anyone else would have been able to do in time to save the boy. You don't regret stopping her, but you wish he wouldn't act so surprised by the whole thing. Azagath was hardly subtle with his villainy -- you had been a little shocked yourself, at how willing the water-bearers were to not ask questions about your business in the Citadel, and then to eagerly point you in the Sea-shadow's direction once he fled, but it makes rather more sense as you consider what they had said about their companions vanishing when they saw or heard something they shouldn't have. And perhaps you are giving Belondor too much credit. After all, he had not noticed your presence or Léonys' among the water-bearers any more than the others had. Servants and slaves and ordinary people are just as beneath his notice as they are Azagath's, or Mordirith's, or the lieutenants of Sauron's that squabble still over the remains of his holdings.

It is Léonys who comes to Belondor's defense, as you start to voice this thought aloud. "He didn't know," she says, looking at you sharply. "None of them did. They thought he was a friend."

"Maybe they should have known," Candaith says, quietly. He knows something that you do not, that Léonys has not told you, for when you had returned from the destroyed temple and found him with Léonys and Thorongil in the room your group had rented in one of the city's many inns there had been a new tension in his shoulders, and a new darkness to his eyes, and his mouth had been a tight line. Nevertheless, his words are probably too quietly for Belondor to hear, which is more thought than you care to spare for his feelings. Léonys hears, though, from where she is sitting close by, and frowns.

Tatháta heals the same way as Belharen, and maybe a month ago you would have been a little bit ill to imagine it, you think, as you inspect Cruel Dancer's wounds and come to the same conclusion as Corudan, that she has mere hours to live. Now you think that Tatháta has good reason to want to know more about you and your crew, and by any means necessary. You wonder what tale the bounty hunter told, and if it is accurate. Léonys quietly excuses herself and hurries a little distance away, where she kneels on the ground and retches. You should go to her, a little voice in the back of your mind whispers. You wonder why the voice telling you to follow Léonys and stay by her side is so little.

Sigileth calls Cruel Dancer by the name she had whispered to you in her final moments -- Galatâni. She says she sees something of herself in the Umbari woman. And you slowly realize that you do as well -- and yet you do not. If Léonys were taken from you, gone without any hope of rescue, you know, with startling clarity, what you would do. There would be revenge, of course. Her killer would face justice. But then... you would return home, you suppose. Lady Hackberry and the children would still be waiting. There would still be Bree, and your friends there, and bright sunrises over the Bree-hill and spiced turtle soup. You would still be Hathellang.

That is not the danger, for you. For you, it is when there is still hope that you find yourself standing at the edge, and staring off it into the darkness. When you do not know.

How can you know, that little voice in your mind asks, when you aren't looking?

You slowly turn away from Galatâni, and you look at Léonys, who has straightened up and is wiping her mouth with the back of her hand. You would tear the world apart to keep her safe. You would tear yourself apart. You haven't considered, before now, just how awful that is. She had agreed, after some hesitation, to return with Candaith and Thorongil to the inn rather than pursue Azagath with the rest of you. But if she had not? The words had been in your throat already, not a plea, but a demand for her to remain far away from him. You don't know what he did to her, but it left something heavy and terrifying on her shoulders, and he will die for it, of that you are certain -- but you finally admit to yourself that you would destroy yourself over it. You would destroy her. You don't even know what it is.

You force one foot forward, and then the other, and you cross the little distance between you and wrap your arms around her, clinging tight. For a moment she stands surprised, and then she returns the embrace, wrapping her arms around you and resting her head against your shoulder. Behind you, the sun begins to rise, and you feel its warmth against your back, soft and comforting before the sands of Aradâr become hot and unbearable.

"Let's find some water," you say.

~*~*~*~

Okay so the last one is a little vague. Unfortunately when you write from a character's point of view and have them realize things about themself, you're still limited by what they actually know about themself. But trust me this is all important context to understand the actual answer, which is that, if pushed far enough, in the interest of keeping Léonys safe, Hathellang would absolutely betray anyone and everyone, including her. Not really at any given point, but in situations like the one I've gone and written him into with the Umbar stuff, he's dangerously close to this thing where his abandonment issues combined with all the insecurity he experienced as a child combined with the fact that he kind of does put Léonys on a pedestal as the first person who ever came back for him (again and again and again) launches him into a really weird fucked up sort of dragon sickness. He would eventually (not for a long time and not without more stressors at play) start disregarding her own wishes in the interest of "keeping her safe" and ultimately become himself the biggest danger to her.

Of course he doesn't know all that. He knows that after seeing her hurt in ways that he just can't fix during their adventure he wants desperately to keep her safe, and he's also starting to realize that he's been compromising his own morals to do that since Gundabad. And also that he's been doing that in a way that's going to hurt her sooner rather than later. This is what I mean when I say that while it's mostly a Beren thing, sometimes it is a Maedhros thing too.

As a foil to Nakási, he's kind of in the same boat as her (pun not intended but wholeheartedly embraced) in terms of, "will commit war crimes for the sake of hurt/killed lover." He'll probably have the whole, "looking at her and seeing himself," moment at some point. Later. When they meet again.

If he's lucky the lesson will stick before something really bad happens. But that kind of depends on how all this meshes with whatever comes next on this questline.

[rebornologist]

Good day, hope you’re doing good and well. Can you please write headcanons for Dino from KHR thank you 💕

Hello! I am doing quite okay ahaha, I fell ill right at the beginning of the year and that actually explains my return to writing just a bit bc I had 0 energy for anything else. I just sat and wondered about the nation's husband here for a bit, so apologies if some of these are kind of a stretch!

♡ Misc. Dino Cavallone Headcanons ✧

He went from having a fear of horses to becoming a horse girl. I like to imagine that his parents may have had an interest in riding (or that the Cavallone family literally fixes horse races for shady $$), so there would be these huuge beautiful top of the line horses at their personal stable.. however, he was absolutely terrified of them and was too afraid to look them in the eye, much less ride one, until Reborn forced him to face his fear; He's fallen on his ass and been kicked in the face more times than he can count, but as he slowly learned that horses were just big skittish animals that needed to be treated with love and respect, he began to love riding and working with horses and down the line earned the nickname "Bucking Horse/Bronco".

Dino loved the Barbie movie, he is extremely Alancoded. And his all-out cowboy barbie outfit (lowkey Reborn made him do it) drew too much attention at the theatre, to the point that some kids were calling him Ken and asking for photos. He ✨served💅 the public that day.

I refuse to believe that Dino was an only child and he turned out so well?!? He's extremely older-brother coded, I would bet my life that he has at least one younger sister or half-sister (though arguably Tsuna is his non-blood brother) that he just doted on until idk she prob kaboomed and wasn't used as a plot device

He's a tall man, has type O blood, he should be donating it because he's such a good person, right? He did once! He passed out and is a little nervous about going back again.. to think that he has a whole tattoo sleeve..

Some of his tattoos are actually coverups!? He never planned to get a full sleeve, but needed to cover up some shitty flash he got in his younger days. He decided to get something bolder and flashier to cover it, but then the rest of his arm being bare just bothered him.. so he added elements until uh oh, it's a full sleeve that goes all the way to the back of his hand. Despite being a pretty boy his entire life, he seems like the type to have had some img issues and regrets with his initial tattoos (he got them just bc he thought it would make him cool and tough), covered them up and felt like he looked too shady.. and then learned to love them and embrace them as art. He likes the asymmetry of how heavily inked one side of him is, and is considering a big ankle/calf/thigh and maybe a hip piece on the opposite side leg to balance it out, but he's a bit nervous about the pain (I giggle). Omg what if the skull and flame neck tatt is matching with some of his men (theirs are in different spots) after a particularly drinks-heavy party night*.

Sometime between the "present time" of the KHR timeline and TYL, he adopted a shorter haircut and learned how to style it from Reborn! They got more time to reconnect as Reborn became less busy with shaping Tsuna into the "perfect mafia boss" or whatever and began to lengthen the kite string gradually.

Dino is a total softie at heart, and has moments where he cut people slack that other mafioso, especially older bosses, would not have. His men love him because he is strong and they know his heart is right, but whatever softness he had in his early 20's he had to shake off real hard as time went on.

Because of all the mental and physical work it takes for him to do his job, sometimes he wants nothing more than to be babygirled for once, and literally nobody knows but just maybe Romario has an inkling.. the sense that it may be the case.

fin.✧

*smart ppl don't get inked under the influence, don't even drink before or after you get tatted ok lolol stay safe out there

[yourhoeshorses]

A ref sheet for Joey and their soul horse Summerqueen

Self insert oc go brrr

Also I really cannot wait for the name change update. I don't mind their name being Joey, it just doesn't fit them imo, but it's the closest alternative I could think of from "Jennifer"

HURRAY!!! You pushed a button, here's Joey's backstory

Joey grew up in a small town north of Jorvik City. They often misbehaved or had outbursts at school due to them not being a particularly fast learner and having a hard time connecting with their peers - being bullied for their strange behaviors and odd obsessions with horses. Even as horses are far more common in Jorvik in other parts of the world, it was all Joey ever really cared to talk about.

Joey was never given much time or care by their parents. They never really helped them with their school work, or gave guidance for dealing with squabbles at school other than to "give it back to them" and to "toughen up." Eventually, Joey ended up being sent to visit the school counselor, or the principal, nearly every school day due to disruptions in class, failing grades, and aggressive behaviors towards other students.

This eventually led to a conference with Joey's parents to discuss their behavior, and after repeated meetings, the school counselor suggested therapy riding for over the summer break.

"It's very grounding for people who do therapy ridding," the school counselor would explain, "it may do Jennifer some good to spend time in an environment with people who will hopefully understand her, and Aideen knows horses are all she talks about."

Eventually, their parents agreed, as Joey's emotions were far too much for them to handle, and they were sent off to Moorland over the summer.

Summerqueen lived in a large weedy pasture on a run-down old farm with her herd. She was born, raised, and lived her whole life in this pasture - only ever leaving when the old farmers' grandkids came around to ride them up and down the road every once in a while.

Now that the farmer was too old to ride, and his grandchildren had moved on, Summerqueen and her herd were more or less abandoned in the field; save for when the farmer would roll out a bale of hay. Their manes and tails had become matted, and their coats were left dusted in dirt.

One day, a man and his young son came driving down the road to the farm. When they stepped out of their truck, the boy was shaking his father by the sleeve, practically jumping and pointing at a sheet of paper and then out to the mare, insisting his father needed to get this horse. They approached the old farmer, inquiring about the bay mare in his field and asking if he'd be willing to lease her out to them. The farmer, skeptical of their offer for a raggedy horse, eventually agreed after their insistence.

Joey had ridden horses before. When they were 8 years old, they attended a day camp where they had learned how to ride. They would go on trail rides a couple of times each summer since then. They were by no means a good at riding, but they knew enough to get by on a horse. Now, at the age of 12, they stood in an enclosed courtyard. The stable owner held a clip board, going over that they were here for therapy ridding to help with their unstable emotions and that they would be responsible for the care of the horse being lended to them.

As he finished going over their responsibilities and rules, his son led the bay mare into the courtyard. He seemed almost as excited and relieved as Joey did when fianlly introduced to Summerqueen. The mare was groomed over well enough to safely equip her with tack.

"Parting through and grooming out those matted locks will be a good bonding experience for the two of you," the stable owner explained. Joey wouldn't mind the work. All they cared about was that their world finally felt like it made sense.

All the interests they were told were annoying and obsessive, the constant daydreaming of being carried by a swift steed, the feeling of never truly belonging - it all washed away as they felt their horses muzzle breathe in the scent of her rider from their out reached hand and finally greeting eachother for the very first time.

After the first summer was over it felt like their heart was being torn out. They begged and pleaded to be allowed to return next summer, and only found the strength in themself to carry on through the winter when their parents agreed to send them back once the school year was finished. During their second summer there, they became friends with Alex Cloudmill. She didn't have a horse at the camp and didn't even live in the area as she only came down to visit every once in a while, but the two grew close over shared hardships.

By the time the third summer rolled around, Joey decided they were not going to return home. They couldn't bear it to be somewhere they didn't feel they belonged anymore. After arguing with their parents to remain in Moorland year round, they gave in and let them stay, telling them they were off on their own now and decided it was better to have almost no part in what Joey does after failing to rein them in.

Joey would stay in spare rooms at Moorland if they were available, otherwise staying in the hayloft of their barn. The Moorlands never left them uncared for and would remind them they were grateful for the extra help they gave during the winter. And yes, they did still attend school, and thankfully, with less head butting from other students.

As they entered high school, Alex would tell Joey about how she had discovered she was a soul rider, along with some other friends she had made. Alex would tell Joey about the dangerous adventures they had gone through together, the great evils they would defeat, and they magic they had discovered inside themselves. And not long after, the same magic Joey would find in themself too.

After revealing they were connected to all four circles, Elizabeth would take Joey under her wing to teach them more about this magic. While Joey began training and working more towards the goal of the soul riders and druids, they moved in with Elizabeth until they were old enough to go out on their own.

Joey now works as a camp counselor at Moorland during the summer and cares for trail horses as they take time off from their wilderness adventures during the winter. Alongside that, they also provide ridding lessons to new riders, training horses, and racing in championships when they have the time. They definitely have their hands full, but they wouldn't want it any other way.

While both Joey and Summerqueen are connected to all four circles, they do have their own preferences for what circles they work with the most. Joey is most connected to the lightning circle, and during the Catherine's Memories quest line became closer to the moon circle while practicing its magic with Linda. Summerqueen is most connected with the star circle as she helped Joey heal their emotions and build up their confidence when they first arrived at Moorland and later became closer connected to the sun circle.

Aaaaaaand END SCENE

[whispersafterdusk]

Heart of Stone - ch 16

"He was saddled, Pen - I'm not. If I'd tried to go any faster I could have fallen off."

Justice (still on Truth) and Pen had been bickering back and forth on the long walk back to town. Unsuur was content to let them gripe; every breath he took burned and he'd pushed himself so hard that he'd pulled a muscle in his left calf, which combined with the disappointment and feelings of failure had left him in a low mood.

As they got back within view of Dawn's he could see the yard was empty and the gate was left wide open; she was probably over at the water tower (or, what was left of it) and Unsuur made sure to shut the gate as they continued on and walked along the tracks to come up toward the water tower from the lower end of main street. The gravel under the rails in this area had been completely washed away and there was a gigantic fan-shaped wet spot on the other side of the tracks where the deluge had washed over the top of the natural stone wall, though most of the water had diverted either toward the bridge and off into the canyon or down into the oasis's surrounding marshland, and the part of main street that had been doused was left muddy and slick; Justice got off Truth to lead the horse on foot in a slow climb up toward the stable while Unsuur paused to observe the activity here at the edge of the destruction. ((Continued below cut))

It looked like every citizen of Sandrock was standing around within view of the wreckage; the air was alive with conversation, all of it tinged with anger and worry, and there was small cluster of folks at the base of the water tower's remains huddled together and talking in low voices: Dawn, Mi-an, Matilda, Yan, Heidi, and it seemed an exploding tower had been enough to draw Qi out of his research center too. Unsuur shifted to stand a respectful distance from them to wait and, to his surprise Pen, moved to wait with him.

It was a long conversation - not surprising, considering the topic - but finally the group (and everyone else) began to disperse; Unsuur stepped toward Dawn and caught her eye. She said something quickly to Mi-an then headed toward him, trying and failing to give him a smile as she squelched over.

"Are you hurt? Did you get...?"

"No, we didn't," Pen answered instead, elbowing Unsuur out of the way. "So tell me, builder: why was Logan walking right toward you, and you weren't running?"

The elbow to his sternum had both surprised him and also hurt a bit so Unsuur didn't immediately ask Pen what the heck he was talking about; Dawn seemed more confused than anything, staring up at the man.

"I- what do you mean, run? Do you really think I could have outrun him in a fenced yard on foot? He could have jumped my gate and been on me before I'd even had time to turn around -- there's no way I could have gotten away from him! That-- that really...scared the crap out of me, to be honest. I don't know what I could have done, or WOULD have done, if he'd actually wanted to-"

Before Unsuur could say anything he heard Justice coming up behind them, with a sharp "lay off her, Pen" followed by a grunt as he slipped in the mud. "I know you're mad Logan got away again but don't take it out on our builder."

"Hmmph. Are your survival instincts really that bad that you wouldn't immediately try to at least put up a fight?" Pen grunted, crossing his arms and frowning down at her. "It almost seems like you wanted Logan to get close."

"I did not," she growled, setting her hands on her hips. "And in fact, he didn't want anything to do with me either. He actually warned me."

"...warned you?" Unsuur repeated into the silence that followed that.

Dawn's attention shifted to him and her expression softened. "Yeah. Pulled his mask down and everything - I guess to make sure I heard him over the train leaving? But, he told me, 'don't let them drag you into this, this ain't your fight' and then he ran off."

That was unexpected. Even Pen looked a little surprised by that; Unsuur felt a tiny glimmer of relief and hopefulness shining through the disappointment -- if Logan didn't want Dawn involved then...maybe that meant he'd definitely be leaving her alone, so long as he didn't think she was actively working to catch him too. Ever since the train robbery Unsuur had periodically worried about Dawn being basically the only one on that side of the tracks (the salvage yard was there but there weren't people there all the time, so that didn't count); if Logan wanted to cripple Sandrock further by preventing Dawn from working he could do...any number of things, really: break something, hurt her, kidnap her, and she was far enough away that Logan could probably make his escape (again) before anyone could do anything about it.

Dawn abruptly closed the distance between them and quickly pecked Unsuur on the lips. "-sorry, I need to get started on gathering materials right away. I'm heading back home to get my gear and then going out to Gecko Station - I'll have glass for the broken windows done by tomorrow morning too."

"All right. Be careful," Unsuur replied, watching as she picked her way up the slope then hurried down the street leaving muddy footprints behind her.

His attention turned back to Justice and Pen as the former let out a heavy sigh, turning to look over the ruined water tower. "Hit us right where we're most vulnerable. ...he's gone too far this time. We're going to have to start taking up night patrols again - we can rotate off every week, I'll-"

"No, I'LL take the night patrols," Pen interrupted again. "No doubt Logan will be quite surprised when his old pal Pen steps out of the shadows the next time he tries to sneak into town before anyone is awake! I'll be teaching him the meaning of "justice" once I finally get my hands around that stringy neck of his..."

"Uh... Yeah, I guess that works," Justice said after a moment. "To make up for you taking the night patrols Unsuur and I will split up your usual daytime routes between us. -- overtime for us, pardner," he added, nodding toward Unsuur.

Unsuur nodded back. "Understood, sir. Just let me know where I have to go."

"For right now get to your usual route. I'll let you know when I've re-worked everything."

"I'm on it."

Unsuur slipped and about dropped to a knee as he turned to head up the hill but caught himself in time; he stopped at the base of the stairs that led to the temple to knock some of the mud off his boots before continuing -- he didn't need to have slick feet if by some crazy coincidence Logan chose this exact moment to come back for some reason.

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

She was leaving him notes on her mailbox, attached with a magnet, letting him know where she was going that day: 'I'm at Gecko, back before sundown' or 'Salvage yard' or some variation of where she was and when she planned to be back. Aside from one chance run in over by Logan's old house where he found her grumbling at Mi-an and Elsie over carelessly playing with rocks and breaking a window he hadn't really seen Dawn in four days. Along with taking on Pen's patrols Justice had them casting a wider net over the desert (not a literal one - Unsuur didn't think a real net would really help them much) so he was often returning to his house much, much later in the evening, and was getting up before the sun rose to start again.

Between their two schedules (she had a lot of work and Unsuur had a lot of desert to keep an eye on now) the only time they really had to even think of seeing each other was late at night - he considered it and then felt really guilty about asking her to give up sleep for his sake, but by the eighth day of the increased patrols Unsuur wasn't certain he could sacrifice any sleep himself; this increased workload was wearing him down -- and Justice too. They'd never really felt the burden too much before, being the only two Civil Corps members in town, but now that Logan had upped his antics to an unacceptable level, well... Unsuur was getting tired. Really tired. And though Justice wasn't complaining or even discussing much beyond official paperwork and reports, Unsuur could tell he was getting worn out too; he also could only guess at Pen's current state - with him being awake all night patrolling town that meant they didn't really see him during the day. They'd come in to find scribbled notes of whatever he'd encountered sitting on Justice's desk in the morning which he'd quickly toss into a folder with the rest of them and then out to work they'd go (so far there was nothing aside from some sleeping critters he'd ambushed on Sandrock's outskirts. Unsuur wasn't too pleased about that).

Over in Dawn's yard there was a steadily growing pile of curved metal panels along with what looked like the start of a frame. Mi-an had some sort of pump thing coming together on the deck where all her machines sat that he could sort of see when he walked by -- he wondered what else she was building since it seemed like Dawn had more to put together, but that also seemed like an unfair thought. Mi-an didn't have the large yard that Dawn did; maybe they should petition for some kind of communal building space... At least then they'd have all the room needed for the big stuff (which he really hoped there wouldn't BE any more 'big stuff' needed any time soon) and could work together to get things done in half the time. It was something to think about as he trudged along through his days.

On day twelve he felt ready to fall over but then found that today's note was different: 'Gecko today - I'll make dinner if you've got time. Let me know' and there was a pair of boxes under it with 'yes' and 'no' beside them. He didn't have anything to write with and didn't find anything on or in Dawn's workbench; it wasn't the most elegant solution but he settled on licking his finger, getting it dirty, and leaving a smudge in the 'yes' box before sticking the note back to the mailbox with the magnet. The anticipation of getting to see her helped keep his feet moving even if time felt like it was ticking by as slowly as possible.

Later that night he headed over to Dawn's and found she wasn't back yet -- the note was gone but the yard was empty and silent. He did another circuit around town and came back and still the same thing - no sign of Dawn. Feeling uneasy he did another round through town and was relieved to spot the lights on as he walked down main street toward the workshop again.

She was bent over one of her storage bins dumping out a bag full of scrap, muttering to herself but straightened when she heard her gate click open; the smile she gave him was tired but warm, and he happily accepted the offered hug too while trying not to lean against her.

"Hey! Sorry - I had to make two trips to get everything carried back. You look more tired than I thought humanly possible," she said with a frown, gently touching her fingers to his face.

"Yeah, I'm tired. It's ok though."

She didn't look convinced but led him toward the door, and he let out a soft sigh at the cooler temperature inside; Dawn hurried over toward the counter and pulled out a cutting board and a knife from a drawer and Unsuur trailed along behind her. "What can I help with?"

"Absolutely nothing - I want you to sit down and rest," Dawn answered, tone firm, and after retrieving a few potatoes from a basket beside the fridge and piling them next to the sink she came over to gently push him toward the couch. "Kick your feet up and relax. What I had planned for tonight won't take long to cook."

"Ok." He did as instructed (she kept her hands on his back until he was standing in front of the couch - he could have easily resisted but chose not to) and sat down, feeling like he was melting into the cushions as he settled in. Aside from sleeping and when he stopped to eat a quick meal he really hadn't been sitting still much at all lately; this almost felt like too great a luxury, and also a trap: after just a few minutes of sitting he felt his eyelids getting heavy. With a quiet groan he forced himself to stand up. "Are you sure you don't want help? I'm good at chopping things."

"I'm sure," came the response, with a small giggle. "You need a break."

"I'm afraid I'm going to fall asleep if I sit down again."

"Then take a quick nap - I'll wake you up when dinner is ready," she said, peering at him from over a shoulder.

From here he could smell fresh tomato, something meaty, and a hint of potato underneath the other more overwhelming smells; his stomach growled but his legs were demanding he sit down. Deciding he could only make his legs happy at the moment he relented and lowered himself back onto the couch but sat at the edge of the cushion -- maybe if he didn't lean back he'd be ok.

...or maybe not, because the next thing he knew he was waking up to Dawn gently shaking his shoulder. He'd tipped over sideways and was half on, half hanging off, the couch; his head had at least landed on one of the throw pillows and it was lucky that he'd not fallen over onto his gun (the safety was on but it wouldn't do his hips any good to be laying on it). When she noticed he was awake she sat down on the edge of the couch in front of him, her hip pressed against his chest.

"Are you hungry or would you rather sleep?" she asked quietly, tenderly running her fingers through his hair. He closed his eyes at her touch as his stomach gave a half-hearted rumble in answer and she laughed. "C'mon, dinner is done." She stood up and helped him shift back upright, and waited there as he blearily rubbed at his eyes and mustered the energy to get up.

A comforting scent filled the room; on the table was a large pot full of soup - he could see vegetables and thinly sliced meat in a creamy looking tomato base, and next to it was a smaller pot of rice porridge with tiny bowls of dried sandberries, cactus fruit slices, and puffed sandrice sat around it. He was a little too tired to fully appreciate the flavor of everything but it was filling without feeling too heavy in his gut so in a little while he could safely head to bed without worrying about stomach troubles...assuming he could stay awake that long. When they'd both finished Dawn got up to put the leftovers away and he went to the sink to start cleaning up the dishes.

"Unsuur, what part of 'you need to rest' is not sticking?" she giggled as she slid the container of soup onto a lower shelf in the fridge.

He glanced over and let his gaze linger on her backside for a moment. "-if I sit down I'm going to fall asleep, and if I fall asleep too soon I might wake up with heartburn. Better to let everything settle and digest a bit before I head home."

"You can stay here tonight -- I'm not entirely sure I can trust you'll make it home and I don't need a second instance of someone falling asleep on the tracks," Dawn said dryly. She shifted a few things around in the fridge and then put the rice porridge inside, shutting the door and turning to him. "Exactly how many patrols does Justice have you doing?"

"Just by total number it's not much more than we were doing before, it's more that they're longer and further out from town. Pen took on night patrols so Justice and I split his daily ones between us. So far we haven't seen any sign of Logan, or even any other bandits. Lots of critters, some monsters, but those were all far enough away from town that we shouldn't need to bother them." Now that he was talking and his hands were moving as he cleaned he felt the fogginess of exhaustion clearing a little. "We're probably not going to keep it up like this for too long -- mostly because we can't. We're just three people and there's only so much we can do. Wherever Logan is, he's got a really good hiding place."

Dawn frowned, stepping passed him (and giving his butt a little squeeze, which made him jump) and grabbing a towel to start drying off the dishes as he rinsed them. "None of you are going to be in any shape to do anything about him if he comes back at this rate. ...would having one more person patrolling help, or would Justice just adjust everyone else's to take advantage of that?"

"Um." One more person WOULD be nice but they didn't have anyone. "I'm not sure what Justice would say to that. But we don't have anyone who could so I don't think it matters."

"Yes you do: me."

It took several seconds for Unsuur to process that. "-what?"

Dawn stuck the dried bowls back into the cabinet. "I've got all the materials - plus some extra just in case - to make the water tower now, which means I'm at the 'make all the parts to put together' step of construction. I HAVE been making what I can as I've gone along so some of it is done but for the next...probably a week or so, a lot of my time is going to be spent staring at machines waiting for them to spit out pieces to assemble into bigger pieces. I may as well use that time for something more useful."

"But..." But Logan will leave you alone if you're not... "It could be dangerous. I'm not sure I like this idea."

"I'm not asking for the dangerous stuff - I know I'm not the right person to be trying to hunt down a bandit gang. But, if I take over the patrols in and around town...would that be enough for you and Justice to get some breathing room?"

...as much as he hated to admit it, it would. "The honest answer is yes, probably. The worried boyfriend answer is 'I don't want you in harm's way.'"

She laughed quietly and accepted the soup pot as he handed it over. "Well, um...to be perfectly honest, I...sort of already talked to Elsie and Heidi about buying a horse and getting a stable added on to my house. Elsie and Cooper are willing to let me board my horse at their place until the stable gets built - they swear up and down the horse they picked for me is the fastest horse they've had in awhile, and Heidi says her crew could get the two-stall stable I want built done in three days. I could patrol on horseback and be able to sound the alarm quicker that way if I spot any trouble, and I'd also stand a chance at getting away if I need to run." Pausing to open the lower cabinet she smiled up at him. "I'm an unofficial member of the Civil Corps - why not officially put me to work in my downtime?"

"I'm still worried Logan might do something. He warned you not to get involved."

She huffed, plopping the pot into place with a loud metallic thunk. "Yeah, well, if he didn't want me involved then he shouldn't have destroyed something we have to fix. Which, speaking of 'we' Mi-an did say once she had her part done she'd help with mine so it probably won't take me the entire week...we don't have a lot of wiggle room before the next water shipment comes in so the extra help will be welcome."

He remembered his earlier thoughts about a communal building area. "Maybe you and Mi-an should make a builder's spot somewhere in town."

She scoffed. "Yan would throw endless fits over that. We're not letting him know we're collaborating on this -- he'd find some reason to shut it down, without a doubt."

"Really? Why's he so against helping one another?"

"He's hell-bent on that stupid leader board. I've never really cared about placing high on it but he acts like it should be the only thing anyone cares about and likes bragging about how many times he's placed first. ...somehow. I never see him out in his workshop but he always seems to jump ahead in points toward the end of the month."

There wasn't much he could think of to say to that - Yan was a detail in Sandrock that Unsuur paid just enough attention to to make sure he wasn't in any danger and otherwise didn't have anything to do with him. He silently passed Dawn the porridge pot; she quickly dried it and wiped a few stray splashes off the counter and from around the sink, then hung the damp tea towel off one of the cabinet handles.

"Ready for bed, then?"

"Yeah."

She nodded and looped a finger into his belt, tugging him toward the new bedroom. It still faintly smelled like fresh wood and paint and even though it was night time it seemed bright and cheerful in there with only a small bedside lamp turned on. "Come on - jacket, belts, boots off. Pants can go too if you'd be more comfortable."

After he'd slipped off his jacket and belts (with his holster and ammo pouch still attached) Dawn walked over to drape them over the top of her dresser while he tugged his boots off and fumbled with the button on his pants; before fully undressing he used the toilet and then all but collapsed into the bed while Dawn took her turn in the bathroom. It was a bit of a fight to stay awake until Dawn joined him but once she was comfortably tucked in against him he was out, and didn't move until they were both jarred awake by the alarm clock the next morning.

His whole body felt like it was made of lead but mentally he felt more rested; Dawn carefully detangled herself from the blankets and his limbs and silenced the alarm, then stood and stretched with a groan.

"And here we go again," she muttered, trailing off into a yawn. "-sleep well?"

"I think so," he mumbled in response, rubbing at his eyes. "What time is it?"

"Six."

That was good - Justice wanted them out there by 6:30. He slowly sat up and used his toes to pull his boots toward him as Dawn hurried by to head into the bathroom. He had his pants and boots back on when she came out, dressed and brushing her hair.

"I know I need to ask Justice about the patrol thing so why don't you both come back here around lunch time? I'll feed you both and talk to him about taking on some patrols."

He still wasn't entirely comfortable with the thought but nodded all the same. "I'll let him know."

She smiled, came over and gave him a quick kiss, then retreated back into the bathroom long enough to put the brush away and get her hair up into a bun. "-want some coffee and toast before you go? I usually eat light in the mornings."

"Yes, please."

As he retrieved his jacket and got his belts back on she headed out of the room, and soon there was the smell of coffee wafting in from the kitchen as he combed his hair and washed his face. There was a stack of four pieces of toast on a plate on his side of the table next to a tiny pot of jam and bowl of butter; Dawn was already munching on a piece of toast smeared with a thick layer of butter, with another sitting on a plate in front of her. The pot of coffee was on the counter with a mug, cream, and sugar sitting next to it.

He helped himself to a mug of coffee with slightly too much cream and skipped the butter for his first piece, choosing just the sandberry jam; between the sweetness and the coffee he felt himself waking up, and the aches and pains were starting to make themselves known. After he talked to Justice - before he started the day's patrols - he could swing by his house and take a few aspirin. The clock on the wall showed he had about 15 minutes before he needed to head out so he quickly swallowed more of his coffee and all but inhaled a second piece of toast before standing up and carefully brushing all the crumbs off him and back onto the plate.

"I should get going, and I'll let Justice know about coming by for lunch."

"All right. I'll see you later - be safe." She kissed him on the cheek as he walked by toward the door.

He met up with Justice as the sheriff was walking through the door into the Civil Corps building and they both went to check for any notes from Pen -- as usual it was a tiny scrap of paper with nothing of interest written on it.

Justice dropped into the chair and fumbled a drawer open as Unsuur gave Captain a good morning pat on the head. "Dawn wants us to go have lunch at her place today. She wants to talk to you about the patrols."

"Yeah? What about them?" Justice asked as he swept the note into its folder and dumped it back into the drawer.

"She wants to help."

Justice paused, brow furrowing. "Help? How?"

"She'll explain over lunch. The short answer is taking on the less dangerous patrols near town."

"Huh. I wouldn't have expected that - you'd figure she'd be too busy with builder stuff, especially considering the water tower situation." Justice grunted as he stood back up. "I'll...have to think on it. Actually, what do YOU think?"

"It makes me a little nervous. Logan warned her about getting involved -- I feel like she'd be safer if she wasn't helping us."

"Yeah, that's fair," Justice muttered, rubbing a hand against the back of his head. "Though, with her being out there basically on her lonesome..."

Unsuur nodded. "I thought about that too. If Logan wanted... If something were to happen to her she's far enough away that we might not be able to help in time, or even realize something's happened."

With a long exhale the sheriff headed toward the door. "I don't think there's a winning side in this argument."

"...we were arguing?"

"Uh, I mean - I meant, I don't think there's any good answer. Logan's proven he's willing to get violent and hit us where it hurts. If he REALLY wanted to cripple us, he could take out our builders and THEN hit something like the water tower again. I don't think we could recover from that."

Unsuur nodded again - that was very true. And a little scary, in several different ways. "What should we do then?"

Justice paused in the doorway, lightly tapping his fist against the door frame. "-we haven't seen any hint of where Logan might be hiding out. I'm beginning to think our best shot at stopping him is catching him right before he acts next. More eyes on Sandrock gives us a better chance to do that." He thudded his fist harder into the frame. "Damn it... I hate that we're even having to consider this."

"I understand, sir. I don't like it either."

With a heavy sigh Justice finally went out the door. "I'll think on it this morning and decide before lunch. I'll catch up with you then." Unsuur made sure to latch the door behind him then quickly hurried over to his house to take an aspirin before heading out to his first patrol; as the heat started to set in he was glad he'd eaten light but in general toast didn't last that long and he was pretty hungry by the time noon rolled around. Justice was already at Dawn's, seated on a stool at a narrow metal table shoved up against the wall of her house shaded by a colorful canvas awning, already downing a glass of water. There were three plates with sandwiches and two small bowls of sliced up melon set between them, along with the pitcher of water and glasses for everyone.

Unsuur plopped down a stool, smiled as Dawn kissed him on the forehead, and accepted the glass of water she poured for him.

Justice let out a little chuckle at the display of affection before fixing Dawn with a serious look. "All right, since we're all here - Unsuur tells me you want to help out with our patrols. What exactly were you planning with that?"

After filling her own glass Dawn settled on the last empty stool beside Unsuur and turned her back to the table, shifting her arms back to rest her elbows on it as she leaned with the water glass held between her thighs. "Though I'll still be working on the water tower I'm going to have a lot of downtime while I wait for my machines to process parts. You and Unsuur are both about to fall over from all these extra patrols so why not make use of my free time and let me handle the ones nearest town -- the least dangerous ones, basically. I already have a horse lined up to purchase so I would do them on horseback."

"So you'd be able to run if you had to," Justice said as Dawn paused to sip from her glass.

She nodded. "-right. And, if I DO spot Logan coming, I'll be able to sound the alarm faster too."

Justice nodded, then turned his head just enough to look over at Unsuur - probably trying to gauge how he was feeling. He still wasn't entirely convinced this was a good idea, but then again they did need the h-- oh, wait. If she was patrolling in town then she wouldn't be at her workshop, meaning Logan couldn't find her as easily. That was...better than her being alone, but it still didn't entirely quell the concerns he had.

"Thoughts, pardner?" Justice prompted.

"It would be helpful. I'm still a little worried about it."

"That's what I thought you'd say, so here's my decision: I'll let Dawn take on some patrols, on one condition." With that the sheriff turned his attention fully to Dawn, a finger raised. "You complete some combat lessons. With Pen."

Dawn's eyes widened. "What? Why him?!"

"Yeah, why Pen?" Unsuur repeated.

"Because," Justice said, pausing to look between the two of them, "he's only got the night patrols right now. When he wakes up in the afternoon he'll have several hours before he has to get back to them. He has the time, we don't, and if there's anyone who knows how to fight, that isn't you or me-" he said, gesturing back and forth between himself and Unsuur "-it's Pen. So. If Dawn wants to take on some patrols, I want to make absolutely certain she can defend herself. Running is good and all but when it comes to Logan I'm refusing to trust your safety to just that. So that's my condition - train with Pen, and you can help with patrols."

Well, that was that then. Dawn didn't like Pen in the slightest so-

"Fine," she whined, drawing the word out as her head tipped back. "Ugh, if that's what it takes."

Both Unsuur and Justice blinked at her in surprise; she was...agreeing to that? Willingly putting herself into Pen's company to...

"You...uh, you're sure?" Justice asked after a moment.

"Yes," she sighed, still adding about five extra syllables to the word. "I'll suffer through tolerating Pen if it means I can help you guys out."

"Uh...all right then. We'll just- Unsuur, your next patrol takes you up by the temple, drop by Pen's room and tell him, all right?"

"Yes, sir." Wow...that was unexpected. He took a moment to study her expression; she definitely didn't look pleased but beneath that was a solid foundation of determination. It made him feel fuzzy, in a way. Similar to how he felt before they'd gotten together and he'd realized she'd cared about him too, but deeper, in a sense. "Do you want me to come back with him?"

She shook her head and spun around to face the table, setting her glass next to her plate before spearing a chunk of melon out of a bowl. "No, just send him over here, I'll deal with scheduling everything."

"Ok."

He and Justice quickly inhaled their lunch - lettuce, thinly sliced chicken breast, a tangy mayo and slices of tomato, all still chilled and along with the melon it was all very refreshing - and soon they were heading back out to their further-flung patrols out and away from town. Unsuur's path took him from the center of Sandrock up to the temple, and from there he'd check around the Moisture Farm and the outer fences of Cooper's ranch and then head out beyond the Valley of Whispers; it was one of his longer circuits and would keep him busy for most of the remaining afternoon.

Circling around the temple to the dormitory Unsuur had barely stepped inside when Pen greeted him with an almost TOO eager hope that he'd come to find him because of Logan.

"No, sorry," Unsuur said, blinking rapidly to clear his eyes of afterimages so he could at least see the man standing at the foot of the stairs in front of him. "I actually came because of Dawn."

"Oh ho? Don't tell me she's finally broken things off, eh?"

Unsuur paused, a flicker of annoyance rising that he quickly swallowed. "No, we're still together. And very happy too. I came because she wants to help out with the patrols near town, and Justice said the only way he'd let her do that is if she gets some combat lessons from you."

Pen's eyebrows briefly disappeared into his hairline, then a wide grin plastered itself across his face. "Really! Ha! At last, a chance to finally get close to Skinny!"

That annoyance he'd felt only moments before turned into an uneasiness -- just something about how that had been worded felt weird, and if HE felt weird then he knew Dawn wouldn't like it either. "You're teaching her to fight and nothing else." ...she was going to have a miserable time if he didn't do something.

"Yes, yes, I know, I get it. But, c'mon! Finally, my chance to get to know her," Pen said, still grinning. "I'll go straight away and-"

"Pen," Unsuur interrupted firmly, stepping over into his path as the man started for the door; he bumped into and off of Pen's chest when Pen didn't stop in time. "Wait a moment."

"What? Do you want me to teach her or not?"

"Justice does want you to teach her. But you need to know a few things first."

Pen huffed, crossing his arms. "Such as?"

Unsuur looked up at him, making sure he was actually paying attention -- hopefully Dawn wouldn't be mad about him sharing this but it was the only thing that came to mind to hopefully make this a better situation for her. "You remind her of people that have mistreated her in the past. That's why she's always avoiding you."

"What? I do? Me?" Pen sputtered. He actually looked shocked, and a little insulted, at the thought - it was one of the few times Unsuur could remember actually seen him look surprised about anything. "Well how is that fair! Judging me without ever..."

"You're big and loud and scare her," Unsuur went on. "And she doesn't like constantly being flirted with-" Pen scrunched his nose up at that "-and definitely don't try picking her up and moving her against her will, or try to keep her somewhere. She'll never like you if you do those things."

After a moment to let all that sink in Pen exhaled loudly through his nose, and for a brief moment actually looked thoughtful. "All right...I understand. I think. Though I don't see much I can do about any of that."

"Just try being...careful, I guess."

"How can I be careful if I'm teaching her how to fight? Combat isn't 'careful' or 'easy' or 'nice' or whatever you want to call it."

He had a point - that wasn't the right word here. "Then, just be polite, don't flirt, and maybe don't be as loud. You can't help that you're way bigger than she is but being nice would set you apart from the jerks you remind her of." He paused. "And don't pin her down."

"Right..." Pen muttered, again looking thoughtful. "Ok... I'll...figure something out. I don't normally go at things with the baby gloves on - I'm not even that nice to Burgess! But, for Skinny, I will make this effort."

Unsuur stepped aside and Pen brushed by. "Why do you call her that?"

"Because she is?" came the answer, followed by a short laugh before he disappeared through the door.

Dawn was small, not skinny, but if she took issue with the nickname she'd set Pen straight pretty quick - Unsuur knew how strong she actually was and that she didn't tolerate bad behavior so hopefully things would go a lot better now that Pen knew why Dawn didn't like him; Pen sort of had a point in that it wasn't fair to be compared to people he didn't even know without having a chance to show who he truly was but on the other hand Dawn wasn't required to like or befriend anyone she didn't want to. Unsuur doubted they would become friends but maybe they'd inch closer to at least being able to have a conversation without her feeling threatened.

He continued passed the temple and started down the ramp; his pulled muscle twinged a bit as he walked and he wasn't looking forward to the long trek ahead of him -- Fang had given him a cream for the muscle pain with the instructions to use it nightly until it was gone and though it had been feeling mostly healed lately he would need to remember to either use the cream again tonight or at least have it with him in case he ended up staying with Dawn again since he was still getting random twitches and little pangs of pain. It would probably heal even faster if he rode Boulder instead of walking everywhere... Maybe tomorrow. He didn't have time to go back and saddle up right now.

Cooper's fence line was clear of hazards and soon he was at the boundary of the Valley; sucking in a deep Unsuur stretched his leg in an awkward hopping stride for a few steps before returning to his usual gait. He thought about Boulder again, then wondered what sort of horse Dawn would have; hopefully Boulder would get along with her, or him.

Justice was in the Corps building when Unsuur stopped by on his way home later that night, and stood up when Unsuur walked in.

"Hey, uh - about the patrol thing..."

Unsuur looked to him curiously. "What about it? Did you change your mind?"

"Not...exactly, but have you talked to Dawn about it since lunch?"

He shook his head. "I came straight here after my last patrol and haven't checked in with her. Why?"

Justice huffed and sat back down. "Ah, it's nothing... Well, it's something, but nothing dire I guess. I honestly thought pairing her with Pen for combat lessons would've deterred her - wasn't expecting her to say yes, and now I feel like I should go apologize."

Unsuur blinked at him. "...so, you don't want her helping with patrols?"

"I do and I don't. We could really use the help but I'm concerned about her safety, like you are. She does need to know what she's doing out there but I know she doesn't like Pen, and now I feel like an ass for making that the condition of the whole agreement."

Ah. "I talked to him and asked him to be more polite to her, and less loud. He said he'd try, so... Maybe that will make it easier on her?"

"I hope so," Justice said, running a hand down his face. "Just, next time you see her, let her know if he's too much then I'll reconsider, all right? Could let her come along with one of us to...learn on the go, or something. It'd be a bit more dangerous but she'd have us there with her. -- oh, and uh, I'd appreciate it if you didn't mention the 'I feel like an ass' part of this."

"I won't. And she IS going to have a horse soon - she could still run even if she's out with us."

"Yeah, there's that too. -- anyway, anything to report?"

Unsuur shook his head. "Nothing but sand, sir."

"All right. See you in the morning then."

"Night, sheriff."

They headed out and as Justice walked over to his house and disappeared inside Unsuur paused there on the landing in front of the Corps building...then headed down the street to the tracks and toward Dawn's.

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

"How'd it go?"

"It was...ok," Dawn replied. She handed him a plate piled with rice and then filled another one as he went to sit at the table. "Better than I was expecting. Once we actually got to the lesson part he was more tolerable, though he thought it was the funniest thing ever that I was using a pickhammer as my weapon of choice."

Unsuur sat his plate on the table and filled their water glasses as she came over to sit. "I'm glad. Did he mention that I talked to him?"

"...no. About what?"

"I asked him to be polite, because otherwise he reminded you of people you don't like."

"Aha... Well. Thank you. Whatever you told him seems to have worked because he was much less Pen than usual. And he didn't even try flirting once."

"That's good. Now we just need to get Arvio to stop."

She stuck her tongue out at him. "Ugh, don't remind me. Thankfully I haven't actually needed anything from his store, and if I ever do Mi-an offered to buy it for me," she added with a laugh.

Unsuur smiled and felt a little bit better about everything. "I talked to Justice and he said if Pen gets to be too much he'll reconsider. You could ride with one of us and we can teach and patrol at the same time. It's not as safe though so...I'd rather we not do that."

"That's fair, I guess. Did you want to stay here tonight?"

"If you're ok with that."

She gave him a coy little smile. "I definitely am 'ok' with that, among other things."

...well, good thing he was way more prepared this time then.

[neuroprincess]

Lady's Lover: The Origin of the Dimitrescu Sisters - Alcina Dimitrescu/OC (reader)

Prologue

Alcina Dimitrescu/Original Character (reader)

Fanfic Chapter List

Summary: Melina Mayer has always lived within the confines of the farm and her family, unaware of the atrocities of the village until she reaches age 22, when, by a stroke of luck, is sold to the Dimitrescu family. The girl immediately wins over the Lady, but discovers the dark side of life, her past, carnal pleasures and all that this can provide.

Warnings: OC (original character), swearing, period misogyny, implied human trafficking, medium violence

Word count: +2200

Unrevised

December, 1972  

Melina sighs and rubs the cloth hard against the wooden floor, diluting the dirt from the shoes of the other residents in house. The boot prints have slowly disappeared as the cloth becomes increasingly muddy and sticky, the girl sighs again, because this was one of the last cleaning cloths cleaned and there is still much to be done. Her mother, a stubby lady with red hair and a serious expression, runs back and forth in the kitchen, alternating between preparing lunch and supervising her youngest daughter's chores. She gives an approving look when seeing the impeccably clean surface, the girl gives the work as finished and stands up, feeling her legs tingling from being in the same position for so long, and gathers the bucket of water to throw it away.  

"Should I tidy the rooms or clean the stable?" asks Melina after getting rid of the dirty water.  

"The stable first, feed the horse. Then tidy the rooms, Mihai and Lucian's rooms too, they are coming back from the village."  

"But so early? They usually spend at least a week there." she thinks too loudly, finding strange that their trip was so quick, their return so sudden "Could they have done something?"  

"Get back to work and stop questioning things that don't involve you." replies Tatiana snidely, showing irritation and discomfort with the situation, wanting to avoid the conversation that was coming "And don't forget to prepare Nadja's dress."  

"Yes, Mother." murmurs Melina, a little resentful that she is being excluded from family matters again.  

But she soon forgets that feeling and euphoria takes over, curious to know what her twin sister, non-identical and a few minutes older, would do, living completely isolated from the village and being a travelers' inn on a rough stretch they don't have many special events or visitors. So new or festive clothes are rarely used, just when something important happens. Like the marriage of the oldest brother, firstborn George II, with one of the village girls. A union that is a constant object of reproach for Constantin, the second son of the family, who swears to everyone that he saw her in some brothel years before. After them, there are Mihai and Lucian, two strong and flirtatious men, born only 11 months apart, that have become very close and are each other's best friends. Then Nicolae, considered the cultured brother, who prefers books and studies to the manual work on the farm. And one year after him came the twins Nadja and Melina, the first girls in six generations of Mayer's family. The patriarch was very proud and in love with his little daughters until the day he died. 

"Watch where you're going, slut!" shouts one of the travelers at her, while accidentally bumping into each other on the way to the stable, the girl too distracted by her own thoughts and trying not to freeze in the snow.  

"Sorry." she simply replies, ignoring the insults, used to this kind of behavior.  

The man continues to curse, but Melina is too excited to give a care about him, besides, there are more important things than a man with bruised ego. She enters the stable, relieved that it has been barely used in the last few days, the blizzard seems to have scared off any fool who would have thought of venturing into the mountains. The idea of finishing the most difficult task of the day quickly cheers her up even more, so that there is time to talk to sister and gather information from brothers. Even though she has lived in the region since birth, the girl has never been allowed out of house, except for the trips to the neighboring farm with her father as she did in childhood, her life has been limited to the inn where she was born and the siblings and travelers, who have filled her with ideas about the world beyond the fences and the forest. She wants to experience everything about what she has heard, go to a ball, visit the fair, have a best friend, fall in love, kiss someone, make babies (as one traveler's wife shyly named sex for her) and, not the least, have a place where she feels at home. Of course the girl loves her family, all the siblings and mother, but since the sudden death of her father nothing has been the same. The house has become lifeless, Tatiana never again gave a smile that reached her eyes, George had to mature early to help his family, the other children resented fate, Melina barely remembers the happy and prosperous times.  

"How are you today, my sweet Thunder?" she hums to their pet horse, a five-year-old dark brown chestnut. The animal howls in return, excited at smelling food coming from the girl's bag "You are such a gluttonous boy." she wastes no time in taking the corn and carrots, leftover crops from last season, and giving them to Thunder "Winter is almost over, soon you will be able to run around the meadows again. Maybe Consty will let me ride you this year and we can go to the waterfalls together to cool off. Just you and me." 

Melina's favorite season is spring, when it isn't too hot and she isn't punished by the intense cold, daily chores become easier, illnesses strike less often and there is that pleasant feeling of the sun beating against her pale face, even the farm animals seem happier with the mild weather. During winter and autumn the farm suffers losses with the thick snow obstructing movement, nothing survives on the ground and the foxes wander silently behind the smaller animals, so the extra rooms in the family house are rented out to passing travelers, the farm being well on the way to the village, so they make a subsistence living in the cold season. Summer and spring are dedicated to cultivating and harvesting the large crops that the fertile land provides with the summer rains, so part of the food is carefully stored, the other part sold to the villagers and the duke. The money is not much, but enough to maintain the place and feed them for the next few months. The girl would be lying if she said she enjoys working in the fields, luckily Tatiana leaves her with all the housework and once the family is out the doors she sneaks out into the expanse of the farmland, climbing trees, running after the animals, napping on the grass and swimming in the pond. These are her moments of peace, the soft memories that she recalls every night to help her sleep during the cold. And also to distract herself during the work, in half an hour she finishes cleaning the place, a little disheartened by the fact that soon her brothers will be back with their own horses dirty with mud and pebbles in their hooves, making everything dirty again. She is putting the rake away when hears screams and a stirring movement coming from the main house, Melina immediately puts the chore aside, running towards the noise. She imagines the worst, like that brute who attacked her touching her mother or Nadja, drunken George making a jealous scene again, she even imagined Nadja getting naughty with one of the travelers and the more conservative brother teaching her some lesson. She knows how he can be, has experienced it in the skin in a literal way and there is a scar on her shoulder to prove it, the narrow mark of the whip etched into the fragile skin. Constantin can become violent. But nothing prepared her for finding a half-naked young woman running toward her, the two of them meeting in a crash that knocks both down in the fluffy snow. Behind them, Tatiana is red in an angry expression, George and Ingrid, his wife, struggle to control the woman as she tries to walk up to the girl with the intention of assaulting her. Nicolae, who is also half-naked, watches the whole scene unfold with a look of guilt and concern. The brute laughs and walks towards them, lifting the other girl in the air, only to throw her in front of the Mayer matriarch, Melina stares at him, trying to guess his next move. He doesn't look very smart, but he's not dumb, she would say, just not one of the best outlaws.  

 "Mrs. Mayer, your son just ruined my merchandise, we have to do something about it."

The woman tenses and pulls herself together, her son and daughter-in-law finally letting her go, knowing that she would do nothing against that traveler. He, known only as Thobias, uses the inns at least six times a year and usually brings with him about ten youths, in the hot weather even more, always more women than men. Of course they, except the girl, know the fate of those poor frightened creatures and shudder to think what is waiting for them when reaching the village.  

"She doesn't have a mark on the skin or a strand of hair out of place, she's in perfect condition," Tatiana replies, trying to negotiate.  

"This woman is no longer a virgin, making her useless in the eyes of the buyer, she is no longer pure since she has been contaminated by your wild offspring. No wonder you have so many children."  

"Maria is not an object for you to talk about her like that!" Nicolae speaks for the first time in the confusion, actually yells at the man at the top of his lungs, defending the slave girl.  

"Control your boy if you don't want one of my men to break his leg, Mrs. Mayer!" he warns, using a low and creepy tone.  

Melina gets up from the ground, wiping the snow off her knees, and stands behind the man's back, not having the courage to follow, afraid to pass him after ignoring him in the stable and her brother acting like this. She takes two steps back, trying to get as far away from the scene as possible and be swept out of Thobias' field of vision. But the movement drags the dress against some branches, catching his attention, the girl feels a shiver as their eyes meet and he smiles. 

"You know, she was one of the only untouched women in the batch, the purest, irreplaceable... except for another pure woman. I'm sure your youngest will do very well as a merchandise exchange. How old is she, 18?"  

"She turned 22 last spring."  

"She'll be 23 soon, a little older than expected, but I can't waste a natural and pristine beauty when I see one." he walks towards Melina and pulls her by the arm to reunite with Nicolae's mistress "I have an offer you can't refuse. One girl for another."  

"And why on earth do you think we would accept such barbarity?" it is George's turn to intervene, overcome with indignation, disgust in his voice.  

"It's that or I'm going to burn this whole farm to the ground with you locked in the stable, with Mother Miranda's permission." the young Mayer is confused and looks at her family, all startled at the mention of the woman "What's it going to be?" the matriarch swallows the lump in her throat and nods, turning her face away to avoid facing the daughter "Good! And I imagine young Nico will turn the whore into a Mayer, everybody wins, from what I've seen you may have grandchildren running around soon." he laughs dryly and grabs Melina by the wrist, she soon realizes what is happening and tries to kick him desperately, only to be slapped in the face, knocking her unconscious.  

The back and forth motion makes the girl nauseous, maybe it's the hit to the head, or the throbbing pain on the left side of her face, but she knows she'll throw up soon. Melina wakes up slowly, feeling pain and fear, the transport runs over a rock and she falls off balance as everything shakes. The brute just laughs and writes something in his notebook. She watches where they are, realizing to be inside one of the carriages, just the two in this and the rest of the youths probably piled in the other carriage following them.  

"Melina Celeste Mayer, 22 years old, 5'1 height? I'm guessing. You were born in March, right?"  

"Why do you want to know?" she mutters, starting to get annoyed, he just writes something ignoring her "I didn't know men like you can write."  

"And the bumpkin shows her claws. I'm more educated than you, slut!" he retorts and puts the notebook aside, analyzing her thoroughly, head to toe "If you talk to your Lady like that, I guarantee your head will be ripped off this beautiful body in seconds. Believe me, I have seen it happen... a lot. Would be a shame such a waste so soon, it's more fun when they endure."  

"You are...you are taking me to die?"  

"Accept that will be your fate, I've never seen anyone spend more than six months in that place. But it's no big deal, we're all going to die one day, you're going to die too young and I'm going to die fucking rich."  

"And where are you taking me?" Melina questions, with explicit fear in her voice and body.  

"Dimitrescu Castle." 

Join my taglist here ^^ now there is addition of Alcina Dimitrescu

[mirjam-writes]

What about you? What writing are you happy about this year?? Is there anything you want to brag about?

Happy Yule, solstice, Christmas, Festivus, (belated) Hanukkah, Kwanzaa, and Doctor Who Day! And anything else you might celebrate, or happy Monday if you don’t!

Thank you so so much for asking 🧡🧡

This was quite a writing year for me. I wrote only four stories, but I'm quite proud of all of them. To Love Somebody was my first foray in rare pairs. An angsty backstory for Shadwell, and what made him the way he is. It has an hopeful ending, and I'm quite proud of the structure, and how much I managed to squeeze into the small word count. Girls Just Wanna Have Fun is a short and wholesome outsider pov story I wrote for an event. I was surprised how much people liked it! It was also my first attempt on present tense, which continued in A Stable Relationship, one of my FTH stories for this year (the second one will probably be a bit late, and be completed in January). I had fun writing it, and it turned out to be a good one, and the only one of these oneshots that was Explicit. It was set in horse riding world.

The reason why I wrote only three oneshots, and why my second FTH piece is late, was of course my favourite story of all time: Be Still My Soul trilogy. A human AU story set in the sad moments of Finnish history.

Despite the class differences, landowner Azirafel Fjäll and sawmill worker Anton Crowley have been friends since childhood. The Great War rages over Europe and the Empire of Russia is in the firm grip of a revolution. The echoes of these fateful events carry over to the Grand Duchy of Finland, vaguely sauntering towards independence. Azirafel and Crowley find themselves on the opposite sides of a conflict that will eventually lead to a bitter civil war, tearing the country apart.

Is there a possibility for them to find their own side, or will this be the end of their budding love story?

I started writing the third part in January, and finished it just before S2 aired in July. It finished posting in October, and it's now complete and done, though I'm still commissioning art for it. This story took over my life for over two years, and it's my baby. I've had such a hard time to let go of it! It also has its own blog @be-still-my-soul-fanfic where I posted dozens of posts about historical and cultural facts. The story is written in a way you don't need to know anything of the Finnish history beforehand (my American betas made sure of that). It's a lovestory, not a history lesson, BUT if you want to learn more, there's a lot of extra info available 😅

I think it's the best story I've ever written (and probably ever will). Many readers have agreed, but it's angsty with very heavy themes until the happy ending, so it's not for everyone and I think posting it just when S2 aired cut some of the potential readers. The third part of the trilogy is now five kudos shy of 100 kudos, and I'm hoping it could get past that milestone before new years. 😂 So yeah, my own personal favourite gets the least interaction of them all. Oh well.

I'm gonna sound a bit self-absorbed, but I'm proud I finished it and it turned out even better than I hoped. My dream would be to print a physical copy or to record a podfic of that, but both might be a bit too much work.

For the next year I have two zine fics to finish, and I have applied to a third one. I have one event fic in the works as well, but the FTH story will be the one I'll concentrate until it's done. It's an oneshot human AU which somehow grew limbs and now it's 7.6k words and nowhere near done 😱 That's my holiday project.

Thank you for asking!! I was so delighted to get a chance to ramble myself 🧡 There's never enough chances for writers to gush about their own work because it always feels a bit self centered. That's why I like to wander around Tumblr and give people the perfect excuse to do that! Peek at the #writer's favourites tag if you want to see other fanfic writers sharing their favourites! And feel free to use the tag yourself if I forgot to ask someone (I was very much not organised when going through the blogs and I'm not good at matching blog names with writer names 😅)

I hope you'll have a magnificent new year 🧡

[minzart]

Okay, I miss bnp au. What if they have a projector that show memories it show the memories of the canon cast and weird shit they do (and Yuu's unpleasant experience with RSA students calling them a damsel in distress when they clearly they can handle themselves

Anon I think we have a diferent idea of what a fun RSA is for writing, so I'm taking the creative liberty to put a little bit more thought into that last bit You said

Takes place during: meeting the other self

The idea was simple: to get back home the portal had to know where home is! Makes sense right? So one of them had to put on this weird looking hat, so it could track where their original dimension is. They needed someone with a very good memory and a strong connection to that original dimension.... ergo the obvious choice was Yuu of course :)

Like the good little prefect they are, Yuu put that on and waited for... something... and then they passed out, giving Idia the biggest scare of his goddamed life, a commotion was forming around, the villains were, for once, visibly distressed.

Chernabog's tension was palpable, bnpYuu couldn't get closer for the demon mountain held them in fear of a black out or worse... an explosion.

Mickey was the definition of internal panic, he was desperate to get that thing out of Yuu's head, but the risk is massive and what it could cost was too much, so he waits

An argument started to grow between the kids in their fear, false accusations and soon it would reach the adults and teens but then... the projector started working... what it showed wasn't a cartoon, no... it was memories

🌹they were in a stable, that much was obvious, a brown and dark horse looked them up and dow.

Yuu: I don't know about it...

Riddle, who was dressed like a proper equestrian helped them up the black horse: common now I'll be right here! There's nothing to worry about

And then there were

Yuu was galloping out of control screaming and somehow they had the capacity to be upside down

Riddle right behind them in the brown horse screaming and beheading however was on the way

Laughter and cackling could be heard in all the tables, both Riddles faces where red and someone please hold the little one he could strangle a person with his tiny little hands right now if provoked

The queen found amusement in the whole ordeal, such a dashing knight in shiny armor her little rose was! Look at him rescuing the little darling she's so pround!

🦁 the moment was a blur, Yuu was focused only in getting to their destination, marching in fury, blind to their surroundings, the door was kicked open

Yuu: LEONA KING-FUCKING-SCHOOLAR WHAT THE FUCK IS THIS!?!?!

Leona, who was now alerted by all the noise finally took in his suroundings: ah... what? Chuckles* didn't you like the new makeup?

For a brief moment Yuu's eyes passed by a mirror, their reflection showed doodles in their face, in their forehead a big "Leona was here"

And then everything was a blur again as the prefect jumped into Leona's direction who for the briefest of second looked genuinely afraid

Their chase eneded on the fountain

Little Leona was laughing, he couldn't help it, Yuu's face and rage was so funny, ogLeona on the other hand was fighting realy hard to stay put in his "sleep", internaly screaming of embarrassment

Scar ruffled both their head, his little rascals, always so cheeky, "next time use a permanent one"

🐙it was p.e class, Azul was trying to give... questionable advice to a Yuu and Grim

Azul: you just, concentrate and go, there's nothing more to it!

Grim: SAYS THE GUY WHO CAN'T EVEN GO HIGHER THAN 5 MILIMETER!

Azul gets closer: IT'S TEN CENTIMETERS LAST TIME!

Yuu: CAN YOU PRINCESSES SHUT UP-

The broom flies METER ABOVE THE GROUND with all three of them who screams so loud that Yuu goes deaf for a short moment

Azul is fuming in shame, he's red, he's pink, he wants to dive into the nearest box and never be seen in the light of the day again. Contrasting Little Azul who is BEAMING, HE CAN FLY A BROOM HOLLY-

Ursula pats his head in pity, poor boy... flying is aways a bitch for seafolk, she understands, but that was funny as hell

🐍It was history class, Yuu was drowsy almost sleeping when Jamil was easily spotted

The vision become sharper and a low chuckle could be heard from the prefect

Then, Jamil looked their way... and bleeped at them, wich made the prefect giggle

The face become more and more exaggerated with shifts from Yuu showing they themselfs were making more and more stupid face and then a loud bam vane from their side

Abruptly scarring both studnets who had now to face a furious Muzu Trein

The audience was more coowing than laughing, this was such a cute moment for such stoic kids. Wich meant Jamil was living in his hoodie from now own, no more sun light, he can't face society after that nope, not anymore, jamil isn't home please come back never- little Jamil is giggling and when spotted little Yuu they praticaly recreated the scene, too much caught in their own little game that they almost lost the next memory

Now, Jafar chuckled, his little boy could make him proud just bu existing and this was no difernet. "Oh come now boy you made them laugh, if that isn't a show of foundness I don't know what does"

👑 it was night time at Ramshackle, not too late for the two to be awake, you could call this a sleepover, but it was more like chilling in the same room in their phones, until Yuu spoke

Yuu: hm... hey Vil

Vil: hm?

Yuu: have you ever sweeped someone of their feet?

Vil: ... technically yes, but in what context?

Yuu: dance

Vil: ah... yes, that was a comun move in musicals for a while and where in many I participated

Yuu: have you ever been sweeped of your feet?

Vil: ... were are you going with this?

Yuu with the smuguest expression know to exists: that a guess~

And that's how Vil Schoenheit, dorm leader of Pomefiore, found out that little prefect Yuu has been training with mr. Vargas and where now a very strong little bean of a magicless human, how? Why, they shouted him higher tha expected AND CAUGH HIM BACK

It was mostly a shock for the entire theater, they expected a fall, they expected high heels being broken not... every one gives the unconcious prefect a side glance, not that the little prefect could be that strong

Vil was just drinking water hopping noone looked at him, and then the Queen herself "I mean... I can see the apeal" he spits his water. Little Vil is glancing back at little Yuu who is just fixating on him and shouted "WHEN I GROW UP I'M GONNA BE JACKED AND WE ARE ABSOLUTELY DOING THAT!" Little vil has no ideia how to react besides blushing

🏺at a break in pe class Yuu and a trembling Idia where resting by a tree, Yuu murmuring a familiar little tune that caugh Idia's attention

He couldn't help but murmur the song lyrics, what prompted Yuu to follow along, and as the two sang the music picked it's peek and-

Yuu & Idia: FROM ZERO TO HERO AND WHO'DVE THUNK?!

To the point their singing was so loud and enthusiastic, of beat and no harmonies as it is when you sing with friends that they didn't noticed Vargas behind them, who swiftly picked both up "if you both can cause such ruckus you are already rested no? Hehehe now run go go go!"

The audience sang along tbh, and Hades just covered his ears "out of all songs why that one hell", little Idia was singing along and only stoped when spoting Hercules himself beaming at his little cousing, so does like him after all, he might cry hold on-

Idia? What? Never heard of him, theres only annoying hoodie man, no Idia's there no sire, he does nor exist, he isn't here at all, and absolutely not blushing and firing pink hues in his flammable cursed hair like a madman nope

🐲 Yuu was running, behind them a sharp caw was heard, as their vision focuses solely in the next window and they jump

The outside view becoming clear, students gathered changing classes and between them one very familiar pair of horns, quickly thinking Yuu acted

Yuu: TSUNOTAROU CATCH ME!

Only for the dragon fae not exactly expecting child of man to actualybe falling right into his direction,both collapsing into the ground

The Phoenix spell passing rightrough their heads and continuing it's path of flames, leaving two sore students behind

Malleus: what came over your to think I could ever react in ti-

Yuu hugging him: YOU CAUGHT ME!

The audience aws, that was cute, maybe dragon faes aren't so fearsome after all. Malleficent chuckled at the little humans audacity and some fondness grew in her heart for said child, the way her grandchild acted so casual with them made her worry less for his future, since he clearly as at least one friend of his age

Malleus was not expecting that to be the memory Yuu associated with him at all, he was pathetic, not reacting quickly enough to catch them and yet...

Everyone was so distracted that noone noticed until too late a little mischief

Little Yuu jumps out of Chernabog head: TON-TON CATCH ME!

Chernabog was panicking because no matter how fast he cups his hand the fall will still hurt his little one and then-

Little Malleus actualy teleported to little Yuu breaking the fall and falling right into Malleus embrace who just teleported quickly enough and knows how to float

Little Malleus: WE CAUGHT YOU!

Mickey fainted

⚔ Then, there was their time at RSA

The boys could be... overbearing, they were always ready to help and be useful, it almost looked like their whole purpose of existence was to be just that, wich... made Yuu feel... uncomfortable, useless and unneeded. For someone who was used to have all chores trown in their hands, the new dynamic was... a little bit too much, causing conflict and, for the boys, some good self reflection and revelations

Those times surely marked Yuu, however as time passes the memories changed for more light hearted ones

From catching rabbits with "Alice"

Beating a tired blue haired boy to sleep after dark hours in reviewing the management of his dorm

Studying human history with Rielle and how his eyes shines with excitement

Helping a rough boy prank some bullies

Helping Neige with his busy schedule since he can't say no to people

Training with a himbo

And finaly treating the rose garden of RSA with a sweet boy with a calming voice

The little heroes are stunned, they never expected that in some world they WOULD be friends with Yuu!

And trust me they tried to make friends but... the boys could be very... scary... and possessive of their friend

But seeing their teen selfs befriending Teen Yuu? They little eyes shined with hope and determinatiom

Little Yuu caugh them staring, their response being a small wave of hello and a little smile

Chernabog is... still reluctant in trusting the heroes with his Child... meanwhile Mickey is ABSOLUTELY PROUND, his child can make friends with everyone! Look at them go!

ASKS FOR THE AUS ARE STILL CLOSED!

[luk4695]

tw vent.

have you ever found yourself at a time in your life, where you should be resting and preparing for the future, but you just can't. I felt exhausted and burned out back in May, when college ended. I've had 2 months of vacation already, and have 2 more months ahead of me. I'm lucky enough to not have to work this summer. I thought I'd make the most out of my time. and yet here I am.

on most days, I'm fine. however, that feeling of "fine" is as stable as a horse without its fucking legs. I'm a fucking kid trusted with adult responsibilities like voting and driving, and good thing I have my antidepressants because I would be doomed otherwise. even with antidepressants I'm a mess. the smallest of things can trigger me. oh, I had a hard time driving this morning, guess I have to spend at least half an hour in bed doing nothing to recover, sorry ! and also now I'm too mentally drained to pretend I'm fine. oh sorry you coughed too loud or you were arguing about not receiving your mail so now I have to shutdown mentally. the lights in the supermarket are too strong but I really want to buy stuff so im going to go anyway and then be surprised I'm overwhelmed. sorry the dog is crying too loud. why are you trying to make small take while I'm driving and desperately trying to keep us alive? stop eating food that's been spoiled for a month. stop laughing at my food anxiety. stop deadnaming me when you think I can't hear. stop talking. I want to stay in my bed all day but I'm restless. I feel disgusting but I'm too tired to get myself in the shower. I try to take care of my piercings but I feel like I'm doing a shit job at it. my earphones aren't working right. I want to cry but I've squeezed all the tears out of my body I guess. I spent 2 hours vacuuming and mopping the floors but now my dog has her period. the trash stinks. dishes are piling up. the vape fumes are sticking everywhere. at least I'm alive. at least I did stuff. but it never feels enough. or it feels like I didn't do it good enough. there are people in my live which I love but I don't have the energy rn to be with. I'd be an asshole to them. I need to sort myself out but I have no idea how.

I'm going to the doctor tomorrow. just getting my antidepressants prescription renewed. I hope the tears will come then. I hope I'll be able to tell someone. anyone. how tired I am.

it's so weird. I'm not at rock bottom anymore. I'm good a lot of the time, but I have moments in the day where I'm just so tired. how am I supposed to go to uni next year? how am I supposed to prepare to study abroad? how am I supposed to learn Spanish on my own? how am I supposed to work a summer job next year? how am I supposed to act cis and straight around most of my family for the foreseeable future? how am I supposed to function in this world, when cleaning my room for an hour is enough to exhaust me? when it's enough to put me out of service for the rest of the day?

meh I'll figure it out I'm sure