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billygoatsgardwrites · 2 years

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Wild Hearts Chapter Nine

The next few days were the hardest for her, mostly because they had to get back to work. Bill was still very happy. More so than he’d ever been. They had a ton of fun at work, probably more than they really should be having. The best she could figure was he finally felt not only free but at peace with himself and his life. She could only imagine getting to live out one of his biggest fantasies, at least in part, played a huge role in this. She was more than happy to be the one to help him with it. Not only that, but learn more about herself through the whole experience and make the connection with him. They didn’t talk about Aurora, ever. It was just them. He even got her off the set one day for a picnic in a nearby field. Something he’d planned entirely. She’d never had anything like this in her entire life. Scott had never been this romantic, even when they were just dating.

On Wednesday, she was giving a brief rundown of everything going on to the executive producer. More or less a progress report on Bill and the status of the other horses, when Bill entered the stable with another guy. Someone she hadn’t ever seen before. That wasn’t saying much because she assumed when it came to production stuff there were a ton of people she was never going to meet. He motioned over in her direction and they came towards her.

“You wanna be in the movie?” Bill asked her.

“Hold your horses there Bill,” The other guy laughed, “There’s a whole process before that point.”

“Yeah but she’ll do great.” Bill insisted.

“I’m sorry what’s this about?” She asked, she couldn’t exactly say she didn’t want to be in a movie. It had been a dream of hers long ago but she’d written it off for a myriad of reasons. The most she’d ever done were a few plays in high school and one stage production locally right after she’d been married. She would have continued but Scott had put an end to that too. That was five years ago and she’d given up on all of her dreams entirely shortly after.

“Bill here thinks that you may be a better onscreen match for him than who’s supposed to play his wife.” The guy said, “The only reason I’m here right now is I kind of agree with him. Their screen tests are lukewarm at best.”

“You want me to play his wife?” She asked, “In the movie?”

“If you show any more promise than that annoying Amber Slate woman, yes.” He said. She looked at Bill, kind of stunned to hear this. More than that. Outright shocked. This wouldn’t just be her first movie but she’d be right up there next to Bill. Could she actually pull this off? He seemed to think she could.

“I’ll be working with you too, see? You trust that I know what I’m doing, right Chris?” Bill insisted, “If she can teach me all this shit about horses which she did, I can teach her everything I know about acting.”

“Honestly I believe if anyone can do that, it’s you, but it’s more about chemistry. You gotta give me something here.” This guy now known as Chris said even though she still had no actual idea what his role in any of this film was.

“One day,” Bill said, “All I need is one, then she’ll audition.”

“Alright, I’ll want you in my office tomorrow at nine. Got it?” He asked, “I’ll get the others there too, casting, producers...whatever.”

“Thank you, so much.” Bill said. The guy gave her another look and then walked out of the stables looking like he was not very comfortable being in there. She couldn’t imagine he would be given his designer suit and all the smells around them. “How fast can you learn a Russian accent?”

“Not in 24 hours. You’re insane.” She laughed and shook her head, “As nice as this idea is-”

“I’ll call my dialect guy.” He said, “I learned it.”

“No offense but you’re already from Sweden and that accent is weird anyway.” She said, “Right now you’re workin with a girl from the south. Dallas. I gotta lose this accent in 24 hours to audition? Ain’t no fucking way, Bill.”

“Do you want this?” He asked, “Don’t lie, I saw how your eyes lit up. Whatever it is, you like the idea you just don’t think you can do it. Is that right?”

“It’s not as simple as all that.” She said, “Besides what if they don’t think we got chemistry anyway?”

“For one, we do, I know what on screen chemistry is. I’ve had plenty of it. Secondly, if you really want this I can teach you what you need to know. You have to believe that.” He insisted. She sighed. She guessed that it wasn’t really going to hurt her to try.

“If I don’t get the part I still get to keep the horse job right?” She asked, “And what about that anyway? I can’t just go from lead horse wrangler lady to...what? Supporting actress? I got no time to be doing both.”

“If you don’t get the part I’ll make sure they let you keep your job. If you get the part you’ll be replaced. Please? That actress is...she’s not a bad actress but we got nothing between us. It’ll ruin the movie.” He insisted. This seemed very important to him, just like all the kinky pony stuff. At that point she definitely trusted he knew what he was doing and saying. The world of acting was his expertise, not hers. Though it did kind of get her wondering what his on screen chemistry with any woman was like. She still hadn’t even seen a full movie that he’d been in. All she had seen were some clips of Pennywise. There wasn’t time to sit down and watch a two part movie that would amount to being four hours of her day. At night she was just too exhausted and during the day she was busy. She’d thought about asking to watch it with him then thought that would be weird.

“Fine, I’ll give it a try but on the condition I get to watch you in some movie somewhere and you don’t get all squirrely about it.” She told him.

“I was never stopping you in the first place. Might want to start with Hemlock Grove.” He said, “Come on, we have a lot of work to do.” He took her arm and started to pull her out of the stables and back towards his trailer. She supposed that was the best place to work and prepare for this. It was exciting even if it also made her kind of nauseous with anxiety. Was this really happening? Even worse, what the hell was Aurora going to think when she got back. If things went the way he seemed to want them to go this was only going to make his life worse. She wasn’t sure she wanted to be a catalyst to that sort of situation.

*****

The rest of the day was grueling. Far more so than just working with horses and training Bill how not to fall off of them and kill himself. She found she actually wasn’t bad at acting, not with him. He made it so easy. Probably because he was so talented. Hearing him with a Russian accent was constantly driving her crazy. There was no way that hurt the performance because whenever he did it she got turned on and couldn’t stop looking at him with such a hunger that it made her soul ache.

He laid out the movie for her and went over the script. The role was indeed supporting, not close to main. Enough screen time to make her character important but not enough to draw focus away from him. The good thing about the story was that the husband and wife were very much in love. Two very psychopathic people who enjoyed the hunt. Somewhere along the lines they’d grown bored with dangerous game and turned their attention to humans. The movie made it seem like it was some sort of foreplay for them. It was a dark and gruesome plot, but it was very well written. Her character was cunning and dangerous. A woman meant to compliment everything that his character was.

The worst part was the dialect coach. Not that he was bad at his job but she was terrible at changing her speech patterns. She was pretty sure both Bill and this new guy, Matt, were about to wring her neck for not being able to get anything right. She could deliver the lines just fine if she didn’t have to do that Russian accent. That was what they spent the most time on. Over, and over, and over. She just couldn’t get her mouth to do any of that. Especially not the whole rolling R thing she was supposed to do on quite a few of the words.

It probably wasn’t until around nine that night that she started to kick her brain into gear to function correctly enough to start, just barely, doing it right. The first line she actually spat out correctly made them cheer loudly. It also made her laugh because she was relieved that it had even worked. They’d spent ten hours discussing this, trying to teach her, even over lunch and then dinner. It just never stopped. It gave her a whole new appreciation for the dedication that Bill was putting into his work.

“Good just keep doing that.” Matt told her, “Don’t stop, keep speaking in that accent so you don’t lose it if you have to.”

“I’ll keep her on her toes. Don’t worry.” Bill said.

“I don’t think it matters because I’ll probably go to sleep and it’ll all be wiped from my brain.” She said and yawned.

“Then I will just have to speak with a Russian accent all the time until after the audition.” Bill said, using the accent exactly as he was explaining. She wasn’t even going to complain about that because it was so fucking hot. She didn’t think it would help her one bit but if it wasn’t a big deal for him there was also no reason to make him stop.

“You think that will be a punishment for me?” She laughed.

“Well, whatever you two got going on here, he was right. He has no chemistry with Amber. I’ve seen them.” Matt said, “But, I got shit to do so good luck let me know how it turns out.”

“Of course,” Bill said, “We’ll get lunch or something.”

“Sounds good. Have a good night.” Matt told them and then headed out of the trailer. Krystal looked over at him and sighed.

“It will be a borderline miracle if we pull this off you know.” She said, “It’s not just my acting it’s the chemistry...the fucking chemistry.”

“Then there’s no reason it shouldn’t work. We got this.” He said putting an arm around her and pulling her close. She laughed softly and leaned into him, resting her head against his chest and closing her eyes. It felt good to be in his arms like this again, even if she knew there was no way this could actually last. It relaxed her, though, and she was definitely going to need that to be able to get enough rest to pass the audition in the morning.

*****

At nine o’clock sharp the next morning, they were at some large office in downtown L.A. It was big enough for a group of people and here she was supposed to perform these lines with Bill. Prove to everyone who was probably investing an ungodly amount of time, money, and effort into this project that she was worth it. She was barely worth her weight in horse manure so she also wasn’t sure why Bill was trying to sell her so hard on this. Maybe to him she was good but he had to be biased right? Maybe it was some kind of rose color glasses or he was just drunk on whatever lust she’d been providing him. She was so nervous she also thought she might puke. She hadn’t been able to eat anything for breakfast. Her only saving grace was that she didn’t have to do this audition alone. He would be there and he’d help her keep focus. At least she hoped.

The introductions were very quick. She was aware they were busy because they made that abundantly clear. It seemed they were really only putting up with this based on Bill’s word and the level of respect they had for him. She didn’t play into the equation at all because they didn’t know her nor did she have any clout in the industry whatsoever. She heard Bill talking to them, explaining the situation. From what she understood, the guy she met the day before had been the director. Also in the room was the casting director, a few of the producers, and the lead script writer. It seemed that if this was going to be decided it would be all of them who chose her, even though she knew that she’d already won Bill’s vote.

“Alright are you ready?” Bill asked, turning to her.

“Not really but guess there’s no better time than this.” She said and laughed nervously. He put a hand on her arm and turned her to face him, so the men who were watching were in the corner of her eye. They’d still be able to see her and what she was doing but she wouldn’t need to focus on them. He put his hands on her face and moved her head to look into his eyes as he looked down.

“You can do this, just us here okay?” He said, “Deep breath, I’ll read you in. Like we practiced. Remember?” He was nodding his head a bit as he said this like he was trying to convince her. She just nodded and took in a deep breath. He dropped his hands and stood up quite a bit straighter. His posture took on the confidence of the man she’d seen in the bedroom in that equestrian outfit in the bedroom. He was dressed normally hear but picturing that certainly helped her to loosen up, even if it only was a bit.

“This? This is the one?” He asked angrily, “This one, he will be no fun. Weak.” He motioned as if he was holding something in his hand. She knew that according to the script they were supposed to be looking at pictures or something to decide on their next target together. It was somewhat of a chilling discussion to establish them as horrible elitists who only ever others as below them. Cattle. Or worse.

“No this one, very deceptive.” She said, “Maybe small but crafty. Give us a challenge.” She motioned to his hands as if he actually had a photograph there.

“You are mad, I could snap his leg like twig.” He insisted.

“Perhaps,” She said, “But he is a thinker, educated. We need to worry about this one, I told you...I have seen him sniffing around. We invite him and take care of problem ourselves.”

“Hardly any meat on this one. I shoot him when he comes in the door. No effort.” Bill scoffed as if what she was proposing was ridiculous.

“No fun in that,” She shook her head, “When have I made mistake before? Hmmm? Tell you what, if I wrong about this then you choose next pig. It is my turn and this is the one I want.” He laughed and grabbed her, wrapping an arm around her waist and pulling her in close. His hand stroking gently over her cheek as he looked into her eyes.

“How could I ever say no to you?” He purred, “My sweet princess can have this poor cow if that is her wish.” He pulled her into a kiss because that’s what they were supposed to do and she kissed him back eagerly. After all, they were supposed to have something resembling chemistry here and it really wasn’t hard to fake it while kissing him. He released her a moment later and she found herself trying to catch her breath. She turned to look at the rest of the men there.

“Give us a moment please, outside.” Casting director said. She was fairly sure his name was Kevin or something. She hadn’t really been paying attention thanks to how on edge she was. He nodded and took her arm, pulling her out of there before she could think of anything to say in her defense.

“Shit that’s bad right?” She asked once they were out in the hall.

“Trust me if it was that bad they’d have stopped us from saying our lines way before the kiss.” He laughed, “It’s normal, they are just going to discuss it. You don’t have anything to worry about, I swear.”

“And if they say no?” She asked.

“They aren’t going to say no.” He told her, “Come on, want some coffee or something?” He motioned to a table that was set up just outside of there that had an assortment of refreshments.

“Water is fine, I think I’ll puke if I have anything other than that.” She told him. He nodded and went to grab her a bottle, holding it out in her direction. She took it from him and opened it, taking a small sip to help deal with how dry her mouth had gotten. The door opened and the director poked his head out and looked around for a moment until his eyes landed on Bill.

“Bill, can we see you in here a minute? Just you,” He said.

“Yeah, Krystal just have a seat okay?” Bill told her and headed back into the office. That was easier said than done so she didn’t do it. She just paced instead. It seemed like eternity before the door opened again and Bill came out of there he was holding something in his hand which he then held out for her to take. It was a large packet of stuff. She looked at him but took it anyway.

“What is this?” She asked.

“This is the part where you find out about all the paperwork that comes with being in a movie, that and your copy of the script.” He said.

“Are you serious?” She asked, “They...they want me? They said it’s okay?”

“Yes,” He smiled, “We’re going to need to do a lot of work for this but it will be worth it. I promise. You’ll even get your own trailer, well, it was going to be Amber’s but they don’t need her around anymore do they?”

“Yeah but I don’t want her to-”

“Truth be told she wanted off the project.” He said, “Look, it’s no hard feelings between any of us. She’s not even a bad actress but sometimes the chemistry just isn’t right. I think we both knew that and she already had something lined up. Her schedule was pushing filming really thin for her. She wasn’t sure after finding this out, it was worth it. She’d mentioned maybe trying to sweet talk someone into a replacement and I thought you were perfect. I can have her tell you herself if you don’t believe me.”

“Oh...really?”

“Sometimes that’s just how it is.” He said. “Besides, the last thing I’d want to do is start your career by making you an enemy if that was the case I’d have had them bring in another professional. No offense.”

“None taken because I still think that might be a better idea.” She laughed.

“You’re working with me, I’ll teach you everything I know, and you’re going to do just fine. I promise. Have I steered you wrong yet?” He asked.

“No, but in all fairness it’s only been a little over a week so you have a lot of time to fuck something up.” She joked and punched him in the arm playfully. He stumbled back, all dramatic, as if she’d actually hurt him then started to laugh. “Oh shut up.”

“Come on, we have a lot to do and very little time to do it. We need to get started. Are you ready for this?” He asked. She nodded. In all honesty she didn’t think she was ready. What she thought was that he would show her the way. Guide her. Help her learn everything she needed to know in order to be able to do this. She did trust that he could do that, could get her prepared. In that moment she was very unprepared. More so than she’d ever been but she had faith he could get her to where she needed to be. This seemed to be like all the good karma she’d been waiting for after so many years in that nightmare she called a marriage.

#WHChapterNine #WHStory

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firefly-in-darkness · 3 years

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Lost and Found.

Pairing → Geralt of Rivia x Reader

Characters → Ciri, Jaskier, Priscilla, Yennefer (mentioned)

Summary → Geralt left with Yennefer for months.

Word Count → 5k

AFG Square Fill → Geralt @anyfandomgoesbingo

Warnings → 18+. Angst, heartache, jealousy, swearing, happy ending

Betas → @wonder-cole // all mistakes are my own.

A/N → Well this ended up being a longer story than I expected… I’ve only written for Geralt / The Witcher fandom once before and will have used content from the series, the books and the games as I have watched, read and played everything based on our ashen haired babe

The tavern was full of locals that had escaped from the cold night air. Farmworkers caked in mud with a distinct stench of sweat, merchants drowned their sorrows or celebrated their successes. A shadowy corner for the gamblers prayed for their Gwent decks to fare better than their opponents. There were even some families gathered by the large fire with bowls of broth and torn pieces of bread.

You had taken a seat at an empty table, slightly out of sight from the group you were meant to be with. You weren’t ready to be confronted with that situation until you had at least two tankards worth of ale in your system. In all fairness, you had debated about coming here in the first place, but it was Cirilla’s twenty-first birthday, and you would have felt awful if you hadn’t shown your face, even for the briefest of moments to wish her well.

It had absolutely nothing to do with avoiding a certain witcher, nothing at all.

A few years ago, Ciri marched into a small school on the outskirts of Rochdale, a quaint town in Velen, and stated that she wanted to continue her studies. Even if it was only for a few days a month. When her family visited. The matron was sceptical at first, not knowing who this child was or where she had come from but when Ciri produced a large coin purse, there were no qualms of fitting her into the roster of students.

You took Ciri under your wing the moment she’d stepped into your classroom. Ciri’s love for history and mythology strengthened the bond between you. Many evenings were spent talking about the world and all its wonder. And particularly, the monsters that lurked in the darkness.

In the space of a few weeks, you learnt a lot about Ciri and her adoptive parent. She confided in you about her hardships of trying to find Geralt. He was someone that her grandmother had told her to go to when Cintra fell to the Nilfgaardians. Your heart had clenched at the thought of such a sweet young girl wandering this world alone, with no family and in search of someone that she did not truly know existed.

It was one evening when Ciri unravelled the rope attached to her horse outside the school, waiting for Geralt to arrive, that you first met him. While you loaded the saddlebags with books, the sound of hoofs on the cobblestones caught your attention, and a majestic mare appeared from the side of the stone wall with a man astride her. He silently nodded to Ciri, no further expression or acknowledgement was made.

It looked as if there were no more than fifteen years between Geralt and Ciri, and he was not what you had expected. You had envisioned an older man, a farmer or merchant perhaps, with a family of his own. Not this handsome man, in a black cape, luscious white hair that curled over his shoulders.

He had caught you off guard, enamoured as you watched him dismount the horse. Your bodies almost touched in the tight space between you both. You stared at his chest, the wolf head medallion indicating his occupation. A Witcher. He towered over you; amber eyes glared down as you froze to the spot. Your legs felt like lead as you were held in his gaze. He should have frightened you, a slayer of monsters but, regardless of his stoic appearance, his presence provided a sense of calm.

The first grunt that he expelled went unheard, you snapped out of it when he did it a second time and shifted from his path so he could collect the books from Ciri. You could have sworn that, even though he seemed gruff, a small smirk twitched at your flustered state.

“See you next week Miss,” Ciri called after you as you lifted yourself into the saddle and gave her a small wave.

The awkwardness heated your cheeks and your mind spiralled at the way you’d reacted to Geralt. You had never frozen in front of a parent or guardian before. A cough brought you to your senses and a groan rumbled through you unexpectedly as you turned to him, eyes wide with embarrassment and a wish for the ground to swallow you whole.

You waited for Geralt to say something, but no words followed, and he seemed to be in just a flustered state as yourself, but you tried to shake that thought. There was no way a man like him would ever think of a teacher in any way other than a guardian should.

Ciri popped from around Geralt’s horse, a mischievous look on her face, “He’s trying to ask you if you’d like to join us for dinner or would like company back to your lodgings.”

You smiled to yourself at the fond memory, the sound of music and laughter lifted your spirit in the small tavern. Until you glanced to the side; the seat beside you was empty, and its presence was a reminder of what you had lost.

What had happened between you and Geralt was a friendship that had developed into secret sparks of lust. But your burning flame of love was extinguished the moment you saw him with Yennefer. After two years of tiptoeing around friendship and the late night trysts, you’d lost him to the most beautiful and powerful woman of the continent.

Your heart ached when you caught several glimpses of Geralt throughout the evening; either talking to the innkeeper or with Ciri and Jaskier as they attempted to get him to dance. He hadn’t seen you yet, you were sure of it, and you hadn’t made your presence known to anyone either. As much as you wanted to keep it that way, you would have to see Ciri at some point and that time came sooner than you expected as your eyes met across the tavern and she ran towards you.

In a flash of light, she teleported to your table and wrapped her arms around you. You would never get used to that. You returned the hug, clinging onto her as tightly as you could because it was likely this would be the last time, you would see her.

Nobody knew about your job offer at Oxenfurt Academy, that you were strongly considering the move to Redania, bags packed and ready at the door. It was what you needed, a fresh start. Plus, you knew that the matron was going to start looking at reducing the staff numbers after the drop in births in the town so you might as well get out before you were penniless.

You let Ciri go and caught another arrival to your side; Jaskier. His beaming smile was infectious, and he made you giggle as he dramatically bowed to you. Geralt was behind him, no expression on his face and not that you dared to look at him properly in fear for how much it would hurt you to do so.

Completely unaware of the awkward tension that was filling the space between you and your former secret lover, Jaskier instantly took a seat opposite you and tipped his tankard upside down, “Oh Geralt, it looks like it’s your round!”

Geralt grunted and left the three of you on your own. You relaxed ever so slightly as you watched him walk away and turned your attention to the birthday girl, woman.

“Oh, Y/N, it has been a while, three months at least!” Ciri said as she clasped your hands in hers.

“It has indeed, I heard from many merchants about your birthday celebrations, and I had to make sure at once that I was here to join in!” You beamed at her and shuffled along the wooden bench for her to join, “How long are you staying in town for this time?”

“I’m not sure, it depends on Geralt as always.” Ciri shrugged.

Priscilla, a beautiful blonde bard that caught Jaskier’s attention many moons ago in Novigrad, appeared at this side and pulled him away to perform a duet on the makeshift stage. In her excitement, Ciri jumped out and followed them. Even though they didn’t notice you had stayed behind, you didn’t mind and chuckled at their antics as they coaxed the patrons to gather around.

“Guess this is for you then.” Geralt slid into the seat opposite and gestured to the tankard, the foam spilling over the edge as you took it from him.

You were sure he could hear your heart thumping in your chest, choosing to give a small smile and a nod as you sipped the ale. The bittersweet melody filled the room, and it took you back to another time. To one where Geralt held you in his arms and filled you with so much hope for a future together.

It was your first visit to the Skellige Isles, and you loved every second that you spent with Crach an Craite and his clan, celebrating his daughter, Cerys, becoming Queen. You had been surprised when Geralt had asked you to accompany him, thinking that he’d ask Yennefer or Ciri to join him, but you didn’t let the moment pass you by; it was the first time you’d been on a ship and travelled the seas, let alone attended a coronation.

The banquet hall was full to the brim of Jarls and their clans from the many islands that formed Skellige. Enormous amounts of food were laid out on the tables and wine was on a never-ending supply. The revelry continued long into the night, you and Geralt clapping and laughing along to the guests dancing the Cèilidh.

You brought the goblet to your lips, now stained red from the wine, and sipped slowly as you felt the alcohol taking effect. Warmth filled your cheeks and you felt like you were floating with Geralt at your side, his arm securely around your waist.

“Drink up, because we are going up there any minute.” Geralt whispered in your ear.

Once more, Geralt had surprised you, thinking he’d never do such a thing and proving you wrong in an instant. Or, just, maybe, you shouldn’t believe everything that Yennefer tells you. He whisked you up into his arms and you skipped into the throng of bouncing and twirling dancers.

After a few stumbles and the odd miss turn, you found the rhythm and began to enjoy yourself. It was like you were in your own little world with Geralt. Your heart was beating so fast you thought it might burst from your chest. Together, you rounded the dance floor, twirling between other people and joining them for the group segments of the dance before returning to Geralt to skip through a human archway.

The music hit its end, you and Geralt both collapsing onto a bench, still giggling through the pain of being out of breath. He leant forward, his hand firmly on the nape of your neck, and pressed his lips to yours. You kissed him back with no inhibitions.

Your fingertips skimmed along your bottom lip, the memory of Geralt’s kiss still lingering there. After all this time, the memory had you brimming with hope and desire, or maybe it was the ale that was clouding your judgement. Without a second thought, you turned towards Geralt to find that he was looking straight at you, and he was too slow to hide his staring. You choked out a laugh as his eyes went wide and his cheeks tinged pink. Never in a million years did you think you’d see the witcher blush.

“I’m sorry but your face.” You giggled into your palm, swaying from side to side and clutching your belly. “So-sorry.”

“No, you’re not.” He tried to sound angry, but his smirk betrayed him.

Your fit of laughter tapered off and allowed you to regain your composure. The awkward silence filling the space between you once more as you resigned to not pursuing the conversation. A wave across the room caught your eye, Ciri beckoning you over but as you turned to stand, Geralt placed his hand atop yours on the table.

He hardly touched you, and you were staring at his hand, uncertain as to what he was doing. You lifted your head to find his softened gaze and immediately dropped back into your seat, nodding for him to say whatever it was that was on his mind.

“What were you thinking?” He whispered.

“When?” Your brow furrowed, the weight of Geralt’s hand growing as he relaxed.

“Just now. It looked like you were daydreaming.” He asked.

Your heart raced; you were silly to think he wouldn’t notice. He notices everything, and you couldn’t lie to him, he would catch you out, even if you were good at it. Stalling for time, you picked up your empty tankard and tried to catch the remaining droplets for some courage.

“If you really must know,” You paused, waiting for him to shut the conversation down but he didn’t and you felt the heat rising up your neck, “Erm, well, I was thinking about when we danced at Cerys’ ascension.”

Geralt smiled, a full beaming one, one that was like the moment he pulled away from your kiss all those years ago. It hit you with a force, and you couldn’t hold back all the feelings that you had packed away when he left with Yennefer not even a few months ago.

He didn’t say anything, just smiled and then sipped his ale. You weren’t sure what was happening and why he was looking at you like that. As if he was happy that you still thought of him fondly. Before you could question him, Ciri was at your side and tugging at your arm to join her, exclaiming that there would be dancing. You unfurled her hand from its grip and shook your head.

“I’m sorry Ciri, but I have to go now.” You gave her a sad smile as you stepped out from the table and pressed a light kiss to her cheek, “I hope you enjoy the rest of your celebrations little sparrow.”

Ciri’s face softened at the old nickname, “Thank you, do you need someone to walk you home.”

You chose to ignore the glare that Ciri was giving Geralt as you pulled the cloak around your shoulders. Geralt wouldn’t fall for her tricks but she was stubborn and from the huff and scrape of the chair, you knew she had gotten her way.

“Ready?” Geralt asked and you nodded, following him through the door into the night.

It was freezing, the air bit into the exposed skin of your cheeks and neck. Suddenly Geralt was in front of you, pulling the hood over your head and bringing it tighter around you.

“There’s a storm coming, you don’t want to catch a cold.” He explained.

You were dumbfounded at his care and the way he weaved an arm across your shoulders, guiding you back to your cottage. Unable to do or say anything more than put one foot in front of the other, or thereabouts, in your slightly merry state.

Geralt was warm, and smelt of ale, sandalwood, and leather. You were unable to stop yourself from sinking further into his hold, relishing the moment. Even if it meant that your heart would shatter once you reached your home, and the loss of his warmth would bring tears.

Silence remained between you, yet this time it was comfortable. It was as if this is where you were meant to be; walking side by side in a small town, surrounded by the multitude of stars and nothing but the beating of your hearts.

The cobbled path wound around various shops and cottages, culminating in the town square. It was empty, a distinct comparison to when you visited earlier in the morning to see if the visiting merchants had anything new or different to sell.

“Would you have liked to dance?” Geralt whispered, if the square was alive with the traders and merchants, you wouldn’t have heard him, but it was clear in the open air.

“I’m sorry?” You uncurled from his hold and stood in front of him, looking up at his glowing eyes.

“Back there, did I stop you?” He asked with a neutral expression that you had long ago realised was a mask to hide his true feelings.

“No,” you shook your head and wrapped your arms around yourself, “I did think it was time to leave though.”

“Because you were daydreaming about me?” Geralt asked, a lopsided smile on his lips as you continued down the path.

“Yes, because I was getting caught up in our past.” You ducked away from his sight, “I shouldn’t have mentioned it.”

“I was thinking about the same thing, well more specifically what happened afterwards.” Geralt stopped at the gate to your cottage, “And I think you were too.”

You looked up at him, knowing you couldn’t lie, with a sad smile “You know I was Geralt. Don’t play games with your thinking. Thank you for walking me home.”

Geralt’s words rushed out, “Can I come in?”

Once again, Geralt was full of surprises, he’d never invited himself round and usually, he would just enter without question. Then you thought of how different things were now that you had gone your separate ways. When he chose to be with her.

“What would Yennefer think?” You asked, the jealousy not missing from your tone no matter how hard you tried to be nonchalant.

“Yennefer is not my master.” He grunted, “Why are we even talking about her?”

“Because you left with her. That day.” You bit down on your lip in a hope of tears not making an appearance. “I didn’t realise you had feelings for her until Jaskier mentioned the djinn and the wish you granted.”

“That fuckin’ bard.” He growled, “I do not have feelings for Yennefer, my wish was about you, but it didn’t work. You didn’t want me near you.”

You recoiled at his tone, “excuse me? You’re the one that left in a carriage to god knows where for months without a single word.”

“I left a letter.” Geralt pushed through the cottage door and gestured his hands towards the candles dotted around the cottage, causing a flame to ignite at their wicks.

You followed him into your bedroom and watched as he pulled at the drawer that you’d put aside for him many moons ago, and atop his tunics was a piece of folded paper. You stared at the letter, now in Geralt’s hand.

It had been too painful to open the drawer, you hadn’t been in it since he left. It had taunted you enough just by being there, a reminder of you welcoming him into your home. Let alone being able to feel the fabric or take in his scent, it would have filled your heart with more pain.

“As it’s still in the drawer, I’m guessing you didn’t find it.” Geralt sighed, placing it down on the furniture and leaning back against, folding his arms. “And that explains why you didn’t turn up the other night.”

“I didn’t, why would I have gone in there?” You whispered as you began preparing the fireplace, anything to keep you busy.

He mumbled, “Because you sleep in my tunics when I’m away.”

“Okay, and what about the other night?” You questioned as the flames caught on the logs, “Where was I supposed to meet you?

At the lack of response, you turned to look at Geralt and he was scowling at something behind you, the trunk at the door and a collection of bags. You watched him taking in the rest of your home. There were no ornaments or trinkets on the walls, no books on the shelves or stacks of parchment dotted around. It was all packed away, ready for you to leave.

“Are you going somewhere?” He asked, the neutral appearance back on his features.

“Yes.” you nodded.

“For how long?” His arms dropped from their hold on his chest.

“For as long as I have a job.” You stated.

“Where?” Geralt was quiet and looking down at the floor.

“Oxenfurt Academy.”

His head snapped up, amber eyes glinting in the dim light of your cottage, “Why are you going to Redania?”

“Because I have nothing else here.” You shrugged as a tear fell from your cheek, you knew that not saying goodbye was hard, but this seemed a lot harder.

“What about Ciri? Or Jaskier? Priscilla?” Geralt asked, his jaw clenching and unclenching as he waited for your answer.

“I’m sure I’ll see them again. Ciri and I will likely cross paths if she pursues her education, and I’m sure she’d track me down the second she finds out about me leaving. I already made a promise to Jaskier that I’d see Priscilla’s shows wherever I am.” Before Geralt interrupted, you sat on the edge of your bed and continued, “He doesn’t know, it was an old promise, and you know what I’m like when it comes to those.”

Geralt silently moved across the room and sat beside you, taking your hand in his, “What about me?”

You shook your head, “I thought you didn’t want me anymore.”

“I’m here, aren’t I?” Geralt looked at you, a softness in his eyes, “So, Oxenfurt Academy?”

You were unable to look at him, ashamed of deciding to leave in haste and without talking to him about it at least once, “Yes, I leave in a couple of weeks.”

“I’ll follow you anywhere.” He promised and before you could counter him, he continued, “I asked you to meet me at the docks because I wanted to give you this.”

Geralt opened a pouch attached to his hip and pulled out a delicate silver chain. He held it out so you could see the side profile of a wolf’s head with an amber gem for the eye. You weren’t sure what to say as you marvelled at the beautiful gift, lifting your hair away from your neck for Geralt to clip it in place.

“Thank you, it’s beautiful.” You whispered.

Your fingers glided along the chain and you held the wolf away from your chest, twisting it in the glow of the candles. A stray tear fell down your cheek but Geralt caught it with the pad of his thumb. You leant into his warm touch, his calloused palm a welcome feeling that you had long missed. Geralt lifted your face and pressed his forehead to yours before he softly kissed you.

The kiss was tentative at first, light pecks making way for harder pushes and pulls, swipes of tongue until your arms were wrapped around Geralt’s neck. You adjusted until you were straddling his lap. Geralt pulled at the lacing of your tunic until it loosened around your shoulders and exposed more of your chest.

He brought his lips to yours again, the kiss was more heated than before. Tongues swiped and teeth nibbled along each other’s lips with him pulling your body into a tight hold, his erection hardening and pushing against your core.

At the spark of pleasure, you pulled away in shock and lifted your body from him. You held the tunic in place and backed away, sitting further down the bed from him, his head hanging down as you tried to make sense of why you pulled away and were still protecting yourself when it was clear that he wanted you.

“I’m sorry Geralt, I- for the longest time, I thought you were with Yennefer, I-” You sobbed, hand cupping your mouth as you let the emotions flow freely.

You felt the bed dip and you turned to find Geralt laying back against the pillows, an arm open in waiting. You scooted up the bed and curled into his side, sinking into his warmth, and being soothed by the fingertips that swirled up and down your arm in nonsensical patterns.

“As I said before, I will follow you anywhere that you go.” He murmured and pressed a kiss to the top of your head.

With the tears no longer falling, you tipped your head up to look at Geralt to find his eyes closed. You rested your head onto his shoulder and began to trace the shape of the medallion on his chest, sleep finally taking you to the world of dreams as raindrops began to patter on the roof.

A new home: it was on a quiet street quite close to Oxenfurt academy, only a twenty-minute stroll until you were in the hustle and bustle of the city. It was a lot busier than you had prepared for, especially compared to your small town of Rochdale.

Your colleagues had told you that you’d been lucky to find the lodgings in the area and for such a good rental rate too. The ground floor consisted of a kitchen and seating area and the upstairs hosted two bedrooms. It was just the right size for you, but you hadn’t fully unpacked yet. Satchels half-emptied and trunks open but still full to the brim with trinkets and books.

You were settled in the chair by the fireplace, the warm embers glowing as you read the book in your lap. It wasn’t late but your eyes were feeling heavy after the most hectic month of moving to the city and settling into your new role at the academy.

A knock at the door made you jump; the book fell to the floor with a thud. Tentatively, you approached the entrance to your home and glanced through the frosted pane in the wooden door but could only make out two figures. Ciri and Geralt stood before you, your mouth dropped agape as their arrival was unexpected and you weren’t sure what to say.

“Surprise! I’ve enrolled at Oxenfurt Academy.” Ciri laughed and wrapped her arms around you.

You held her close and rested your chin on her shoulder, looking over at Geralt, shock and happiness coursing through you. In the dim light of the torches that lined the street, his mouth twitched into a smirk. Your heart fluttered and you couldn’t wait to have his arms wrapped around you once more.

“I cannot believe it; I wish you’d let me know beforehand so I could have prepared for your visit.” You beckoned them into the warmth of your new lodgings, picked up the fallen book and attempted to tidy away the pots and pans on the table.

“Oh, come on Y/N, it’s only us, I’ll start making a pot of tea.” Ciri headed over to the stove and filled the kettle.

Geralt entered your home, he filled the space with his height and broad shoulders, the atmosphere was tense, and you weren’t sure what to do. It had been a while since you last spoke to him; the morning after he returned and discovered you were moving away.

“Hello,” you squeaked, unable to keep the excitement from your tone, “erm- how long are you staying? Where are you staying?”

“Ciri mentioned you had spare beds.” Geralt murmured. “If that’s okay with you?”

“Yes, of course, right this way.” The steps creaked underfoot as you both ascended the staircase, and your nerves began to bubble as you felt his eyes on your back. You opened the first door to the spare room with two single frames and a small chest of drawers, “sorry it’s not much. My bedroom is just down the hall and there is a bath in there.”

Geralt placed a couple of satchels on the bed and removed his armoured plate. You couldn’t help the way you stared at him in the tunic and the dark hair across the exposed part of his chest. He pulled out a small bag from a satchel pocket and turned back to you with a small smile.

“I-We brought your favourite biscuits from Rochdale.”

The stutter did not go unnoticed, but you did not react to it, instead offered a smile and a whispered thank you as Geralt placed the bag into your outstretched hand. Instantly, you opened it and raised it to your face to inhale the sweet scent of the treat.

“This will go lovely with the tea, we should-.” You gestured back to the stairs and spun on your heel.

“Wait,” Geralt huffed and caught the crook of your arm to turn you to face him, “I should have done something else when you answered the door.”

A frown etched on your features until his hand cupped your cheek and you caught the way his amber eyes glowed as they flicked down to your lips. Your mouth parted and your eyes fluttered closed as you slowly edged towards one another, meeting in the middle in a soft kiss.

Your body tingled in Geralt’s hold, as your lips melted into his chapped ones. Knees grew weak as he invaded all your senses. It was as if he knew and wrapped an arm around your waist, holding you flush to his hard chest.

Both of you pulled away for air, his fiery gaze drank you in and sent a wave of pleasure through your body. He claimed your mouth once more with hunger, your hands carded through his ashen locks, and you tugged him closer still. Geralt lifted you into his arms and carried you to your bedroom.

Too consumed in your reunion and that Geralt had kept his promise to follow you anywhere, neither of you heard the door close behind Ciri’s hasty exit.

The tea and biscuits were long forgotten.

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#Geralt x Reader #Geralt of Rivia x Reader #Geralt #Geralt Fic #Geralt of Rivia #Geralt of Rivia Fic #Geralt Fanfic #Geralt Fanfiction #The Witcher #The Witcher Fic #The Witcher Fanfic #The Witcher Fanfiction

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serpenteve · 3 years

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I'm having the horrible realization that Aleksander never actually did any serious wooing of Alina in the books. It's all just Alina her self being horny attracted to him. But this is supposedly???? His grand scheme???? Of manipulation???? Implications! It seems like the girls in these books wasn't the only one slut shamed. I'm- ☠

Leigh wrote a man sexy and captivating and said "it's his fault, actually, that Alina got a crush on him. He shouldn't of.... uh.." Flips through papers. "Ah, had such pretty eyes."

Okay! 👀Yes, we are finally doing this!

I'm flipping through my copy of Shadow & Bone and noting down all the interactions between the Darkling and Alina which I've put in chronological order beneath the cut.

First of all, the Darkling and Alina are only alone together in about a handful of scenes. Most of the time, the are surrounded by other Grisha or Baghra or are in a public place. A lot of the Darkling's actions and words are clouded by Alina's own insecurities. She constantly voices how she feels like she's not good enough, not pretty enough, not strong enough and he takes it in stride and gently encourages and placates her. There are a few lies he does tell her (that the Black Heretic was his ancestor, that he wants to destroy the Fold, and he doesn't know what Baghra's power is, etc) but if we extrapolate the trajectory of her ill-fated romance arc, I think even book!Darkling would have told Alina about his real plans if she seemed like she'd accept them.

A lot of speculation has been made about the Darkling's seduction of Alina and honestly???? Aleksander literally just exists and Alina is thirsting for him because she's desperately looking for validation and re-assurance. I initially head-canoned his first kiss by the lake as being pure calculation and the kiss at the Winter Fete being 100% accidental (because Dark Lord Sasha played himself lmao) but on this re-read, I don't even know anymore. He already came close to almost kissing her after they have a tender moment, catches himself and then immediately leaves before he can catch feelings. Then when they share another tender moment at the lake, he kisses her and then is surprised by it and before he can really process it, Ivan comes by to cockblock.

Like, even Leigh (as much as she has shit on this ship) said at one point that the Darkling has strong feelings for Alina, even if he may not necessarily quantify them as love. So looking back, I don't read anything the Darkling did as manipulative seduction. He obviously lied about some stuff and wasn't transparent about his real plans for the Fold, but as a military commander who sees Alina as an opportunity for a coup, it makes sense that he'd play that a little close to the chest---especially when Alina has proved to be wary of his powers and has a very black-and-white sense of morality. If anything, this is less "the Darkling seduced Alina to manipulate her into being used!!11" and more "local dark lord tried to encourage his protege and accidentally caught feelings and it was a mASSIVE FUCKING INCONVENIENCE TO HIS EVIL PLANS"

But you know who does slut-shame Alina a lot? Baghra. Seriously, Baghra makes Alina feel like shit for her crush on the Darkling numerous times. She has all these lines:

"You want to be [his pet]...Don’t bother lying to me. You’re like all the rest. I saw the way you looked at him."

"Dreaming of dancing with your dark prince?"

"Foolish girl." (After Alina shamefully admits the Darkling might come to her that night)

At one point Baghra creeps on Alina and the Darkling's interactions and even though literally nothing happens between them and when the Darkling leaves, Alina catches Baghra giving her a snooty look. ("For no reason at all, I blushed")

She is determined to shame Alina for her feelings and make her feel like a lovesick idiot for daring to crush on him and this is in addition to all the slut-shaming Mal does. The narrative revealing the Darkling is the bad guy all along while leaving Alina no compelling arc to discover this on her own feels very much like Leigh hitting us all with Baghra's stick, like "Foolish girls! You thought he cared about Alina just because he has a sexy jawline??? HAHA HE LIED YOU SLUTS"

Scenes with Alina and the Darkling in Book 1

Their first scene together is in the Grisha tent. Based on Alina's description of him, she already thinks he's hot as barely any other character in this godforsaken series gets so many descriptions of their grey/smoke/slate/quartz eyes as Aleksander does 😏

The next time they're together he saves her life. Alina is traumatized from seeing a man sliced in half and the Darkling instructs her to keep her eyes on him instead. She is disturbed that he killed the person about to murder her and this aversion seems incredibly contrived and arbitrary on behalf of the author. It's almost like she wants Alina to be vindicated and shamed for not trusting her initial bigotry against him or something 🤔The Darkling admits even he can make mistakes and then he touches the back of Alina's neck (with some secret Heartrender/Healer abilities?) and she falls asleep riding on his horse.

They spend the next few days traveling. Alina notes that the Darkling hasn't spoken to her (probably because he's focused on getting her to the Little Palace without any more assassination attempts) but Alina is a paranoid she's offended him somehow. Again, this is just Alina's insecurity painting a narrative that simply doesn't exist based on what actually happened so far.

They exchange a few words by the stream and Alina fishes for pity points by saying she's ugly and can't possibly be Grisha. Aleksander appears 100% done with her stupidity and says she doesn't understand but he's not in the mood to explain at the moment and walks off ☠️

Alina joins the Darkling and his men for a meal. She notes that the grouse they've killed is meager shared meal but that the Darkling doesn't want to put his men in danger by sending them out to hunt in the forest at night 😌He also sits on the floor to eat like they do and he doesn't take more than the regular portion than they do 😌. Sorry, how is this man the most ~evil~ wizard on the planet? He is obviously a good and fair commander and beloved by the Grisha.

Alina has been checking Aleksander out the entire time so when he catches her, he walks over to talk. He fishes around for information on what Alina has heard about him. He seems sad when Alina mentions she has heard that Darklings are born without souls, though not surprised. He then spins the story about the Black Heretic being his ancestor and how the Fold was a mistake and how every Darkling since then has tried to undo it and how Alina is "the first glimmer of hope" he's had in a long time.

Because Alina is still on that "Grisha are unnatural monsters" agenda, she asks him about the Cut and he explains it but she's still distrubed. He asks her if it would have been better if he used a sword and she replies: "I don't know". The Darkling gets offended and leaves. Alina tries to convince herself she can't have possibly hurt his feelings (because Darklings don't have souls or feelings?) and then feels paranoid that she's failed some secret test. Yeah, the test you failed is called "empathy", Alina 🙄

Two days later, they arrive at Os Alta. Aleksander roasts the Grand Palace as the ugliest effing building he's ever seen. He leaves immediately after dumping Alina at the Little Palace and Alina actually seethes that he isn't paying more attention to her? I understand that it's overwhelming to go to a brand new place, but Alina expecting him to constantly hold her hand and explain everything to her after she basically insulted him is a bit strange.

The next time Alina sees the Darkling, they are scheduled to appear before the King and Queen. The demonstration is a surprise for Alina and Aleksander's lack of transparency of what's expected of her means she's forced to rely on him and trust his instincts. This might be his underhanded way of getting Alina to see that she can trust him; that he will not make her look like a failure or humiliate her; that they are in this together and it will only work if she trusts him.

After the demonstration, Genya and the Darkling trash the monarchy for a bit (Alina is horrified) and then the Darkling orders Genya to get a black kefta for Alina, to which Alina infamously wants a blue one. The Darkling doesn't really put up much of a fight, merely wanting to know why. Alina decides he doesn't approve of her choosing blue and wonders to Genya if he's angry.

After Alina's first day, the Darkling calls her to his quarters to ask her how her day was. Alina is surprised that this is all he wanted to know because she was paranoid he was going to torture her??? She says: "Why shouldn't I be afraid of you?...You can cut people in half. I think it's fair to be a little intimidated." If the Darkling is offended or angry about this, he doesn't show it and merely indulges her. He notes that she has a habit of running her hand across a scar on her palm and asks her about it, tracing the scar himself. Alina gets distracted by his touch but manages to answer his questions: she got the scar at Keramzin, Mal is also an orphan, he is good at tracking. He shows her a secret passage back to her rooms to avoid the main hall.

Alina starts her training and at one point laments that the Darkling is rarely at the Little Palace and when he is, he never speaks to her or barely looks her way and she is convinced it's because she's a failure and can't summon light on her own. It could also be because, you know, he's the commander of the Second Army and is usually seen in talks with other military advisors and the fact that Alina kinda lowkey insulted him with her wariness about his powers???

The next time they are together, Alina interrupts him and Baghra arguing. He politely asks her how she is. Baghra antagonizes her. The Darkling defends her. They talk about amplifiers and because Baghra is being a snarky little shit about it, they take their conversation outside.

Aleksander complains about how annoying his mom is and then asks Alina what stories she's heard about Morozova's herd. At one point he laughs for the first time and Alina practically creams her pants at the sound. Alina expresses her concerns that she can't summon any light and the Darkling says he's not worried and it will happen when it happens and worse case scenario, it will happen once she has the stag. They have a quiet intimate moment, gazing softly into each other's eyes and then suddenly Aleksander realizes he's catching feelings and steps back suddenly like "GoodLuckWithYourLessonsOKayBYE". Baghra watches this interaction from her hut and gives Alina a slut-shaming look.

Alina eventually does learn to summon light on her own. Baghra gives her grief about how it's not enough. The Darkling shows up during one of these lessons and says as much. Alina says she's useless. The Darkling corrects her (“I don't think you're useless, Alina....No Grisha is powerful enough to face the Fold. Not even me”) and then he apologizes for letting her down ("I've asked you to trust me and I haven't delivered"). He wonders if his mother is right and he's crazy to hunt the stag. They have a nice bonding moment, Aleksander lies about Baghra's power, and then he asks if Alina would think him crazy for still wanting to find the stag. She asks why he cares what she thinks, he seems genuinely surprised himself that he cares. Then he kisses her. He seems not to have meant to kiss her because then Ivan shows up for his 5 o'clock shift of cockblocking and the Darkling immediately pretends like nothing happened and walks away with him. Like dude is acting like a fucking dork who's allergic to feelings at this point. I should note here that Alina practically has an orgasm from how giddy she is about this moment. She can barely think of anything else.

The next time they're together, it's at the Winter Fete. They do their demonstration and Alina accidentally reveals her insecurities about how he had kissed her and then disappeared. He responds, "Did you really think I was done with you?" and then they enjoy some steamy kisses and thigh grabbing in an empty room before a random round of Grisha show up for their 6 o'clock shift of cockblocking. Aleksander is annoyed at his own attraction to Alina. He asks if he can come to her that night but Alina doesn't get a chance to respond.

and then the Darklina romance arc falls off a giant cliff and dies a terrible death 😭😭😭

#viv answers #god this ended up being so long WOW #i had a lot of feelings i guess #cw: purity culture #sab meta #grisha discourse #darklina #viv metas

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dreamescapeswriting · 3 years

Text

The Stables ~ MYG [Request]

WORD COUNT: 3.3K

PAIRING: Prince!Yoongi x StableGirl!Reader

GENRE: Prince AU, Angst with fluffy ending, mentions of a childhood accident, memory loss

A/N: Hope you enjoy thiiiissss! I didn’t make it too angst since he did end up liking her in the end so I hope this is okay for you!

Ever since you were a little girl you'd lived in the huge palace that was just beside the beach. It looked out on the shore with a huge Kingdom right behind it with loyal subjects. Everyone within the kingdom was kind and caring, always going out of their way to make the people around them happy which was why the Kingdom worked so well. The castle was well respected as well as the people that lived inside of it since they were the royal family but just because you lived in the castle it didn't mean that you were a Princess of any kind.

"Y/n?" You heard your grandmother ask as you walked through the door to your part of the castle. It was split up so that the royals had their castle but you lived in the servants quarters with your grandmother. She'd been running the stables since before you could walk. After poking your head through into her room she smiled up at you.

"How was Star today?" Star was the name of the Prince's horse, you'd been having a lot of trouble getting him to trust you which was why your grandmother was asking. The horse didn't seem to take too kindly to your grandmother randomly not coming back to work with him and instead, replacing her with you,

"He was better," A barefaced lie but you knew if you told your grandmother the truth she would risk getting out of bed to go and see what was wrong but nothing was wrong. Star just didn't seem to like you being around him, he was fine with other people but just you.

"How was your day?" You moved into the room as she questioned you and you walked over to her bed, running your hand up to her head to see if her temperature had gone but it was still hot to the touch.

"It was okay. Have you eaten? Shall I heat up some soup?" She placed a shrivelled hand on your wrist and asked you to sit with her. It had been far too long since the two of you got to sit down together like this. Ever since she got sick you'd taken over her jobs in the castle, working in the stables as well as your own job which was a part-time bar-maid job in the Kingdom centre it was hard to get a minute to yourself but you needed the money for her medical bills. Although you worked for the King and Queen and your grandmother had worked there since she was a little girl they weren't keen on paying for her to get better.

"I ate some soup. The young prince came by and gave me some from the kitchen." The mention of Yoongi made your blood boil. The thought of him stepping foot in your house made you even madder but you tried to play it down in front of your grandmother.

"I felt you tense. He's a nice boy if you just got to know him..." She continued on with the nice boy speech while you drowned it out in your head. Yoongi had been nothing but a rude stuck up kid ever since you met him. You figured it was because he was a Prince he thought he could push people around whenever he wanted and get them to do what he pleased. He always acted as though he wanted nothing to do with you, to everyone else he was the kindest person in the entire world but whenever he was around you it was a different story. He'd either completely ignore you to the point where it feels like you don't exist or he would be rude to you. There was never an in-between.

"Besides, you'll be working for him when the King and Queen pass, you need to get along." You rolled your eyes before getting up, mumbling to her that you would bring her a fresh cold cloth for her head but you just needed to get out of her room and away from the Yoongi talk.

Once your Grandma was asleep you slipped into your barmaid skirt, pulling a cape over your head as you headed out of the back door.

"Evening," Jimin - one of the night guards - said as he saw you walking in his direction. Every night without fail he would accompany you into the town so you wouldn't have to walk alone in the dark. The kingdom was safe sure but it was better to be extra safe than sorry.

"How's she's doing?" The question you always hated being asked, everyone within the Palace and Kingdom seemed to know that your grandmother had fallen ill as much as you tried to keep it under lock and key. Everyone thought that it was their business to know what was going on,

"She's doing okay. She said she had some soup from your friend earlier so that's good...She didn't eat yesterday," Jimin chuckled as you called the Prince his friend instead of using his real name.

"You can call him Yoon-" You covered Jimin's mouth with your finger and he rolled his eyes at you.

"You know, there was a time when the two of you would-" He stopped speaking when you began curtsying so he bowed to the King that was passing you in the street followed by guards and Yoongi who didn't even glance at you before he smiled and greeted Jimin.

"I'll see you later, thanks for walking me again." You rushed out your words before running in the direction of the bar, you didn't want to hear that you and Yoongi would have been friends one day or that he was nice but you just weren't seeing it.

"There she is! The woman of the hour!" Your boss cried out bringing the attention of the local drunks over to you, you waved your hand before heading over to the bar. Hanging up your cape before taking orders right away, wanting nothing more than to earn your money and head home before waking up extra early for the stables the next morning.

"Shit, shit, shit." You mumbled running as fast as your legs would carrying you towards the stables. You'd slept over the guard that normally came to wake you up and now you were going to get into trouble if anyone found out that you were late,

"Y/n? I fed Star and changed the water but-" The other girl who worked in the stables with you began to curtsy so you followed her lead, looking at the shoes of the man in front of you.

"Is Star ready for his morning ride?" You knew it was Yoongi from the tone of his voice,

"I'll go and get him." The stable girl mumbled leaving you alone with him as you raised yourself from the curtsy. Going over to your own horse as you run your hand down her Maine, there was an awkward silence as you tried to act as though Yoongi was there.

"You were late this morning," Yoongi commented as he watched you from behind, he stared at you as you continued to stroke your horse. He could remember when you first got her and how attached you were to her and his heart swelled watching you still be so friendly with her,

"I know, I slept late because I didn't finish until late last night." You were doing your best to be as pleasant as you could with him, after all, he was the Prince and he was above you.

"I don't appreciate Star being taken care of by someone who isn't qualified." You turned around to face Yoongi as he made a remark and he took a step back once he saw you. The scar that you had gotten when you were kids was on your forehead and guilt washed over him as soon as he saw you. The scar that changed everything in your lives. The two of you had been close friends but after your accident, Yoongi felt so guilty for you not being able to remember anything he pushed you away. Ignoring you whenever he saw you around the palace and being rude because he couldn't handle the guilt he felt when he saw you and the large scar on your head.

"Star is acting up because he can sense a storm coming, be careful." The stable girl mentioned as she brought Star over to Yoongi, handing him the reigns and smiling.

"I'm sure myself and Star will be fine. Y/n, don't be late tomorrow or you'll be out a job," He snapped as you rolled your eyes, your back still turned on him as you hummed out an answer for him.

"How can you be so rude to him, he'll be our king soon." You ignored the stable girl, taking your horse out and smiling.

"Going for a ride, clean the stables." You mumbled to her as you swung your leg over the horse and climbed onto her back.

The rest of the day you'd managed not to bump into Yoongi and you didn't have the bar to work in that night.

"You should have been on time, do you know how tardy that makes us look?" You didn't want to spend time arguing with your Grandmother who was sick so you agreed with what she was saying, nodding your head and feeding her some soup you had made.

"It was an accident, I was late because-"

"I don't want to hear excuses! Do you know how embarrassing it was to have Yoongi come around and tell me you were late?" You ignored her just trying to make sure she ate but there was a loud bang from outside the door.

"The thunder," She grumbled, shivering as she felt a breeze come through the small window in her room. Your eyes glanced over at the window to see rain hammering down against the floor and it wasn't the smallest of storms.

"The horses must be scared," That was the one thing your grandmother worried most about, the storms always affected the horses and whenever there was a storm she would make sure she could be there for them whenever.

"I'll go down and check on them," You whispered, tucking her under the covers while you went to get dressed to brace the storm.

Yoongi stared out of his window and down at the stables as he heard you trying to calm down the scared horses. The sounds of their scared neighing could be heard from his room and he could see the rain was getting worse,

"Star, hey, hey hey." Yoongi could hear the desperation in your voice as you tried to calm his horse down and he raced down the stairs to see if you needed his help, his heart pounding as he saw you backed against a wall.

"Star, look it's going to be okay." You tried speaking with him normally to calm him down but it wasn't working, the sight of seeing you backed into a corner by a horse sent memories swimming back to Yoongi as he stared at you.

"Y/n?" Yoongi called out when he galloped back over to where he had seen you last, the two of you were on a horse ride that morning trying to clear his head. His parents had just told him about most of the responsibilities he would be facing when he turned 16 and this was his chance to clear his head with you. You'd grown up alongside one another as the best of friends even though he was of Royal blood but that never stopped you from being friends. This morning after riding off together the two of you decided to see who could beat one another home the fastest, racing along the side of the cliffs near the beach so you wouldn't be seen by the king, queen or the guards that were hunting for you both.

"Y/n?" Yoongi's voice grew with worry as he realised your horse was on her own laying down on the grass and you were nowhere to be seen. He climbed down from Star and walked over towards the edge of the small cliff that was near him, it was a small drop to the beach nothing that would hurt but he couldn't help but feel panicked seeing you laying there. Facedown in the sand with blood around you,

"Y/N!" He screamed out in pain as he began climbing down the side of the small drop and to your side, he rolled you over to see a large cut on your forehead.

"Y/n? Can you hear me?" He panicked, taking off some of his shirt to wipe the sand away from your wound and trying to get a response from you but you didn't move.

"HELP! SOMEONE HELP!" He screamed out but there was no one around, you'd both ditched the guard's miles away and it was the two of you out there alone.

If he hadn't left you alone and ridden off so fast you never would have lost your memory that day. You could barely remember anything from your childhood, most of the memories you had were from 16 and up and Yoongi blamed himself all of the time. Because of that he never let himself get close to you again, in fear of losing you or hurting you again, he loved you far too much to let that happen.

"Star, here..." Yoongi clicked his tongue and Star began backing away from you, walking towards Yoongi as he whipped his tail from side to side.

"That's a good boy," He breathed out as you relaxed at the back relieved that Star was out of your face.

"I'll get him out-" Yoongi was cut off when a large clap of thunder sounded, Star kicked the back of the stable wall and you screamed as the wood began to splinter off.

"Y/n!" The way Yoongi screamed your name felt as though it was echoing in your head, you sat on the floor holding your fingers over your face trying to get the thought of Yoongi out of your head but he yelled out your name once again and images flashed in front of you. Riding a horse and falling down a small cliff before everything faded to black.

"Here, drink this," Yoongi whispered as he handed you a glass of water looking at you. You glared at him as he held your face in his hands, turning it towards the light of the flame in his room.

"You have a cut, stay here." He mumbled going towards his bathroom and coming back with some tissue and more water.

"Why are you being so nice to me?" You mumbled as he began cleaning up the small cut on your cheekbone, some of the wood that had splinted off hit your face cutting you on impact but it was nothing large.

"Believe it or not I'm not always nasty...I just- feel guilty whenever I look at you," You hissed as he touched the cut on your cheek, it hurt a lot more than it should have for something so tiny.

"Why?" You mumbled as you stared up at him, he looked back at you with wide eyes,

"Do you not remember anything from when you were younger?" You shook your head at his question so he sighed to himself,

"I supposed it's for the best...Just...Just if you want to know you should ask your grandmother but don't come complaining to me when you do, tell her to tell you the truth" You stared at him as he finished cleaning up your cut and then walked to his door, opening it and waiting for you to leave.

Walking through the door to your grandmother's bedroom you frowned seeing her awake,

"The storm," She mumbled as you crawled into the bed beside her, she took one look at your face and sighed as she saw the small cut.

"What happened?"

"Star kicked the wooden wall behind me and I got caught. Yoongi cleaned it up actually," You mumbled as you laid your head on her shoulder, thinking back on the weird memory you had when he called your name out.

"Grandma? Did something happen when I hurt my head? I know you said I was horse riding but-"

"We've been through this, what you remember is what happened," That was the problem, you didn't remember what happened you only remembered what everyone told you. You were out riding your horse alone when you fell off,

"Yoongi said you knew the truth." The mention of Yoongi's name made her sigh.

"You have to know why we kept it from you first," She whispered to you as she began to draw invisible patterns into your skin. Explaining why they told you that you were alone after the accident. After it happened Yoongi couldn't bring himself to look at you without feeling responsible for what happened, it had been his idea to go for a ride, his idea to lose the guards and his idea to race back home but he never would have expected you getting hurt. The two of you were always such amazing riders and the path was clear, once he knew you weren't behind him he knew something was wrong.

"If he'd found you a minute or two later you'd be gone," You were trying to wrap your head around the fact that yourself and Yoongi had been friends before the accident,

"I know that face...I told you, Yoongi was a nice boy," She laughed softly but you still couldn't work it out, he had been so rude and mean to you all these years because he felt bad for you getting hurt?

"So because we were friends and I got hurt-"

"Friends? Honey, friends didn't look at one another the way you and Yoongi used to," You froze in place as she started to laugh loudly, your eyes were wide as you realised she was insinuating there was something more between the two of you.

"You may not have been together but I have no doubt in my mind you would be now if it wasn't for the accident," She taped your nose but your head was starting to spin at the thought of everything, small memories starting to come back to you the longer you thought about things.

"Star is ready for you," You said to Yoongi the next morning as he came into the stable, he looked unsure about coming over to you but you smiled at him. The night before you'd had nothing but memories coming back to you from when you were younger, all of the times you spent with Yoongi.

"Yoongles, you don't have to feel guilty..." You said as Yoongi turned his back on you, his whole body tensed at the mention of his childhood nickname that you had for him. Only you knew about the nickname, slowly he turned back to stare at you.

"Yoongles?" You nodded at him smiling as you moved closer to his body,

"That day we went riding...My horse kicked back because she was scared of a stick shaped like a snake...You have nothing to feel guilty for." Yoongi's mouth fell open as you spoke to him as though you'd never lost your memories, he couldn't believe it.

"I remember everything...After my grandmother told me about why she never told me about that day and why you were so mean to me all these years..." He felt his heart twinge at the thought of being so cruel to you but he smiled at you,

"I'll make it up to you...We could go for a ride like old times? Maybe get some food?" You nodded at him as you agreed to spend the day with him, looking forward to catching up with him and learning about the true Yoongi he'd grown to become after all these years. Although it was never going to make up for what he'd said and done to you he was going to do his best to be the friend he was all those years ago and hopefully one day be more.

Tagline: @lyoongx @mitzwinchester @rjsmochii @taestannie @kneel-begyourpardon @innersooya @sw33tnight @jin-from-the-block @sweeneyblue1 @acciocriativity @that-anxious-bisexual

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wastelandcth · 3 years

Text

Red Desert Ridge - cth x afi

part one: the cantina

summary: A cowboy walks into a bar on Friday and orders a drink.

author’s notes: Welcome to my new mini series! This is a Cashton x reader fic that I’ve been planning for the longest time! Thanks to @in-superbloom and @hoodhoran for letting me scream about this and letting me run ideas by them both. I’m also posting this while I’m taking a very important test so please if I don’t respond right away it’s because my brain is melting over optical terms!

warnings: mentions of alcohol, mentions of sex.

masterlist || request || series masterlist

Calum watched as the clouds floating by in the sky, the mix of pink and purple fluff that drifted away with the soft breeze a great distraction from the amount of time he'd spent already waiting for the inevitable. The small town that he'd found himself in was nothing more than a long stretch of road lined with shops and a couple of cantinas, the locals of the town passing no more than a glance at him as he'd strolled in on top of his horse. Duke, his prized horse, and really the only other being on Earth that he trusted besides himself, had huffed and whinnied quietly as Calum had led him through the dusty street, snorting in relief when he was finally left in front of a watering hole and promptly ignoring anything Calum did after. Calum had spent the early hours of his day traveling through the dry desert, hoping and wishing that the next few hours would find the end to all his problems.

But then like a light at the end of the tunnel, Duke’s hooves knocked against the wooden floors of the entrance to a town, bringing Calum’s attention back from the clouds and towards the small town that would bring him answers, or at least that’s what he hoped. His feet found solid ground soon enough and Duke had been left near the water trough. As the sun set on the horizon, letting the pink sky and filter in with oranges and purples, Calum strolled through the town, the spurs on his boots ringing with every step he took on the wooden floorboards. He could feel the eyes of the town on him, the faded green bandana that covered his nose and mouth shielding his face from peering eyes, and it wasn't until he stepped into the crowded cantina that he let the fabric slip down his face and around his neck.

Calum's eyes searched the crowd of people, ranging anywhere from farmers who'd stumbled in after working on the fields all day to the local drunk who seemed to never walk out of the place. The cantina was filled with music and conversation flowing freely around the stucco walls, that was until Calum stepped over the threshold and all eyes were on him. Whispers rang out over the quieted music and Calum couldn't help the smirk on his face as he felt the attention on him. His feet carried him towards the bar, his gait slow and confident as he leaned against the wooden slab that had been sticky with spilled drinks and other substances Calum wasn't sure he wanted to find out about. His hat tipped towards the bartender, who'd been busy serving up shots of clear alcohol and had been the only one in the building to not stop and stare.

"Can I help you, fella?" the bartender finally asked as he walked over, swiping the off-white cloth over the countertop before throwing it over his shoulder to finally study Calum, "Or just traveling through and need a drink?"

The bartender, who Calum assumed was closer to his age and maybe even a little too young to be running a cantina was a tall blonde. His hair was hidden under the black hat that he wore, golden curls peeking out beneath it and sitting just above his shoulders, and Calum found himself smirking at the man's nervous expression. His hands fiddled with the glass in his hand, his head cocking to the side as he waiting for Calum's answer and his eyes kept shifting between Calum's figure and the patrons around them. If Calum hadn't known any better, he would've guessed that the small town saw only a fair share of travelers a year and he'd be the talk of the town in no time.

"Actually, I'm looking for a place to stay," Calum shrugged, pointing over to a bottle of whiskey as he took another glance around the crowded cantina, "Know of any?"

"Oh," the blonde sighed and shrugged, "We usually have a few rooms but if you're looking for a good time," he said and served up the liquor, sliding the glass over to Calum, "The inn down the way charges a pretty fair price and the ladies are always accommodating."

"Luke!" a deep voice called out from behind the blonde, "What did I tell you about sending people that way," the man huffed out, his hand coming over to smack the back of Luke's head, "We would be more than happy to host this traveler in our spacious rooms upstairs!"

The blonde, who Calum was now assuming was Luke, grumbled under his breath and nodded. With one last look at the man who'd smacked his head and then shoved him away from Calum, he rolled his eyes and walked off to check on the rest of the patrons. Calum noticed that Luke had drifted towards another patron of the cantina, whose hair was hidden beneath the brow of a leather hat and kept the shade away from his eyes, whispering something in his ear and making the man glance over at Calum and then back at Luke with a small nod.

"Sorry about him, he's my son," the man sighed and shook his head, "I've been trying to teach him how things work down here but he's too focused on his dreams of going to the big cities or talking to Michael who will only get him in trouble," he scoffed, "Now about your room and board..."

Calum looked around the cantina, listening to the conversations around him as he nodded in agreement to whatever the man behind the bar rambled on about. Something about extended stays and breakfast every morning with his family. Calum watched the patrons around him, letting himself lean against the wooden bar as he tried to seem in the conversation about the locals and things to do that Luke's father kept rambling on about. His eyes landed on the corner of the cantina, a place hidden in the darkness and shielded from prying eyes. Shielded from the gossip of the small town and the drama that came from a town of a few dozen people.

The small table was littered with drinks and chairs, a couple of men surrounding the table and talking to the man who was leaning back against the chair. The man whose laughter echoed and bounced against the stucco walls of the cantina sat around with no care in the world. His outfit, a white shirt with the first couple of buttons left open to showcase his chest, and the black denim pants that left Calum shifting his stance as his eyes landed on the leather holster that laid against the thick thigh muscle that flexed as the man laughed at whatever his associate had said. The sight of a silky black skirt, the shiny material ending just high enough that a brown leather boot peeked out as it swung against the wooden floor that had been littered with dirt and sand from the outside, had Calum's eyes following the shine of the stretched material up until his eyes were met with another.

Calum saw the way her eyes twinkled, how her lips turned and how her eyes seemed to also trace down his body, stopping at the silver belt buckle that Calum's thumbs were looped through. Her eyes, which had left Calum covered in goosebumps, made the slow and antagonizing trip back up his body until her gaze was back on Calum's. She smirked, bringing the cup that dripped with condensation up to her lips and taking a quiet sip, her eyebrow quirking up as Calum let out a breath he'd been holding in. It wasn't until Calum felt a different pair of eyes on him that he turned his head back to the man, whose hat now laid on his lap, and the laughter he'd roared out seconds before ended with a smirk thrown Calum's way.

Next to Calum, the blond had come back and was chatting with his father as Calum watched the man whose lap she'd taken refuge in turned to face her, his large hand coming up to give her hip a gentle squeeze. Calum could see his lips moving, whispering against her ear and making her squirm in his lap as she nodded a bit. Calum's gaze turned away, turning back to Luke and his father as they set another glass down in front of him and Luke offered to help get him settled in his room upstairs. Calum nodded graciously, his attention slipping from the table in the corner and towards the stairs that Luke had begun to lead him towards.

"You gonna give him a show, darling?" the man whispered against her ear, making her cheeks flush as Calum walked past their table, making his shoulders tense and his jaw clench, "I'm sure he wouldn't mind watching."

"And here you are," Luke mumbled as he opened the door to the small room that Calum would call home for the next couple of days, "It used to be my brother's old room but now we rent it out for travelers whenever we get them."

"Thank you," Calum nodded, setting his pack down near the bed, "Can I ask you something?" he asked quietly as he turned his head towards the blonde.

"Yeah, um, of course," Luke nodded and cleared his throat, shifting uneasily under Calum's stare.

"Who was that man in the corner of the cantina, with all the bounty hunters around him," Calum mumbled and unclipped the bandolier across his chest, setting it down against the hardwood of the dresser.

"Oh, that's Ashton Irwin," Luke sighed softly, "His family owns the mine that's a few hours away, the reason why this town exists."

"And the girl?"

"That's his girl, apparently she's crazier than he is," Luke sighed and shrugged, "Why do you ask?"

"Well, she's my bounty."

“Mr. Hemmings!” Ashton calls out as he walked over to the bar, his gait confident and the smirk on his face present when the older man turns to look at him, “I fear my girl and I might’ve had a bit too much to drink from your fine cantina today, mind if we get a room here for the night?”

“Mr. Irwin, you know you’re always welcomed here!” the older man chuckled, his eyes examining Ashton and then moving towards the table that was always occupied no matter the day, “Your lady and you are always welcomed to stay with us. I’ll have Luke set up the usual?”

“You sure do know how to keep a regular customer coming back,” Ashton nodded and tipped his hat towards him before he walked back over to the table, “I’ll see you all tomorrow? Michael, I want what we talked about in my hands by sunrise tomorrow.”

Michael, the poor guy who seemed to have lovestruck eyes for no one except the blonde boy whose blue eyes always looked stressed, nodded quickly and rose. The tip of his head towards Ashton and the quiet glance towards the bottom of the stairs where Luke, who’s look like he was trying to look anywhere except near them, dismissed him and he was out of the cantina without a word. Ashton had always found him to be a quiet man, but quiet men were always hard workers and he’d be damned if Michael wasn’t proof of that. Michael had been by his side since the beginning and Ashton would always make sure that his friend and loyal companion were always taken care of. He was smart, always finding a solution for whatever problem Ashton found himself in. Whether it be due to his family’s increasing monetary value or because of the girl giggling into the last of her drink as she swayed along to the chatter of the cantina.

Ashton knew she was trouble the second she walked into his life. Well really, he’d walked into her. He’d been strolling around the small town, chatting with Michael about the town’s latest plans to build a schoolhouse for the ever-growing population of children when he’s accidentally opened the door to the cantina and ran straight into her. She was small, hiding behind a hat and a large coat, her eyes wide as she took in the sight of both Ashton and Michael. That’s how their life together began, with an accident, and it has spiraled into craziness since.

“Ash?” her sleep-laced voice brought Ashton back out of his head, “Are we still...?”

“No baby, it’s already too late and the ride back is too risky and I think we should just head up to bed, yeah? Sleep off all that whiskey,” he nodded as he helped her up out of the chair, his head cocking to the side as he saw Luke staring at them both.

“Right this way, Mr. Irwin.”

Ashton knew she was trouble the second he’d laid eyes on her later that night, after having bumped into her and apologized profusely for his mistake. She’d been at the same cantina again, a shot of whiskey in her hand, and wild eyes shining bright as she danced along with a few of the other girls that seemed to hang around to entice the men. Somehow, Ashton knew she wasn’t one of the parlor girls, her eyes never landing on any of the men who stood by and watched them all dance with a hunger that left Ashton with a heavy pit in his stomach at the thought of someone taking her away. It wasn’t until she’d spotted him in the back, his own eyes following the way her body moved along to the cacophony of music and cheers, that she made her way over to him.

“You look like you could use a good ride,” she breathed out, her cheeks flush from the dancing.

“Oh?” Ashton chuckled and raised an eyebrow, “And what might a girl like you know about that?”

That night Ashton had found himself in a similar position to what he was in now, his naked back pressed up against the rickety mattress as his breaths left his lungs in huffs. Above him, under the sliver of moonlight that peeked in through the window on the side of the bed, he watched as her hips rocked with a quick rhythm. Her breast bounced with every rock, taut nipples teasing Ashton as his wrists tugged against the leather belt holding them in place above his head.

“You always feel so good,” she moaned out, her head thrown back as her thighs flexed with every pull of her body, “Always fill me up so good, Ashton.”

Behind him, the headboard hit the wall with every thrust up his hips made, the inevitable smacking of their skin together echoing throughout the empty room. Normally, Ashton would’ve been the one in control, the one who had her pressed down against the mattress and screaming his name until her high hit as she was left a shaky mess of jellied limbs. But tonight, tonight she had begged Ashton to let her out on a show for him no matter how tired she was, wanting to show him exactly how much she’d learned about riding in the past couple of months she’d spent by his side.

“Doing so good, pretty girl,” Ashton breathed out, the leather around his wrist creaking under the tension of his body, “Gonna- fuck- gonna have to teach you more and more, huh?”

“Please, wanna know everything you have to teach,” she whimpered out, her walls clenching around Ashton so hard that he couldn’t remember what not being inside of her pulsing walls felt like, “Oh, Ashton! I’m gonna...”

“You always do put on a good show, little one, let’s see how you handle the finale,” Ashton muttered as his wrist freed from the leather belt and found a grip on her waist.

From then, with no restraints and no care in the world to who would hear them, Ashton flipped them over, pressing her chest into the bed and her ass in the air. He watched as her cheeks jiggled with every smack of his hips against hers, watched as her body leaned back against his everytime he pulled away from her, the whimpers and moans echoing louder and louder as Ashton’s hips seemed relentless in their chase for a high. He felt her walls clenching around him, warning him that something big was coming and it wasn’t long before the grip she had on him made his own eyes shut and his own moans grew louder and louder. It wasn’t long until the only thing Ashton could think about was how he wanted to stay in her for the rest of his life and wake up the whole town with the pretty noises her mouth and pussy were making. And as the creaky mattress went silent, their panting breaths the only sound in the room now, Ashton could help but smirk against her shoulder, hoping that their neighbor had indeed found pleasure in the show.

Calum laid in bed, his eyebrows furrowed up at the ceiling as the noise next to his room echoed down the hallways and through the walls that kept him in private. His hand was wrapped tightly around himself, the wet squelch of his hand moving quickly to get any sort of relief a whisper in comparison to the banging on the wall behind him of the moans that made his ears ring. It wasn’t long until he felt his own hips tensing and his cock twitching in his fist, his hand covered with his spend as he let the shaky breaths leave his lungs, the stars behind his eyelids his only anchor to the real world as his orgasm tore through him. His breathing eventually calmed down, his hand searching in the dark for his discarded bandana that he used to quickly clean up the mess he’d made before his brain, now foggy with ecstasy slowly drifted off to sleep, dreams of a black silk skirt and a white unbuttoned shirt soothing his weary and traveled body.

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needs-to-stop-looking-at-valves · 3 years

Note

Heatwave x female s/o?

Funny enough it's a certain someone's birthday today! Let's give a bitch one of her faves ;)

(Warning; SUPER long)

"Kade, hurry it up."

"Don't rush me, I'm almost done!"

Kade huffed. They had agreed that once a week, Kade was supposed to wash his alt mode. He had an especially muddy rescue today, Heatwave was always huffy after a mess, but today, he was especially finicky. It was why Kade was sitting there, buffing in the fresh coat of wax that Heatwave demanded he have on. He pulled away, and after seeing it was done, lightly patted his hood.

"Alright pretty boy, you're done. Imma go and eat a sandwich."

"Didn't we stop at a drive thru before we got here?"

"You whining makes me hungry."

Heatwave scoffed. He waited until Kade got into the house, before he helped himself out of the driveway, and pulling into the road. Just had to do one thing first, in case they came looking for him.

"Chase, you copy?"

"Yes, Heatwave, I copy."

"Good. I'm handling your patrol shift."

"But Kade isn't-"

"No one knows that. Look, I just need to let out some steam, Chase. You know how Kade is."

"...understandable. Keep me updated."

"Will do."

He hung up the call, sighing in relief. Good, they bought it. He made a left towards the beach, before he came to a halt, just before he made it to the parking lot. There she was. The reason why he wanted to look like a goddamn sports car today.

Brown hair that fell to her shoulders, fair skin, jewelry that dangled, and she was as glittery and stunning as a fallen star. He pulled up right in front of her, giving her just a small honk to get her attention. Her eyes lit up right when she saw him.

"Hey! I was just about to text you!"

He pulled down the window, giving the illusion that she was talking to someone inside.

"Sorry. Had to keep the hood looking nice for you. Like what you did with your hair."

She had gotten bored waiting for him, and had stuffed her hair full of little flowers. Alongside the glitter- this girl was far from boring.

"Thank you! I got you one too. Assuming you're gonna let me in?"

"Course, scoot into the driver's seat."

He opened his door, letting her hop into the driver's seat. She placed a little flower on the dashboard, before she buckled herself in.

"Sooo I take it this is the tour you promised me?"

She was from off island, so she was a little lost around here. He pulled out of the lot, and went back onto the road.

"Yeah, I'll show you around. You still got a week on the island, right?"

"Yep! I'm liking the sights so far. And the locals are definitely nice, and not just on the eyes."

Based on the way she strummed her fingers across his dashboard, she wasn't talking about the humans. He turned to the left, trying to remember to put on his blinker as he did so. She was, something.

"Well, we try to have some hospitality. Especially for tourists who just run into any ol' vehicle."

She huffed, arms folded across her chest.

"The door was open, and I've always wanted to see the inside of a fire truck."

Heatwave chuckled. What a story that was.

"Kade! Close the-and he's gone."

Heatwave groaned. Whenever he saw Hailey, that idiot always forgot the rules of the ride; shut the door when you get out. It was like coming into a closed room, and leaving without shutting it. Just plain annoying. He was about to shut the door, when there was a sudden weight in his driver's seat. He adjusted his rear view mirror. A girl. Tourist, given that he'd never seen her before.

"Cool! A real firetruck! I've always wanted to see one on the inside!"

Not a carjacker, thankfully. Just someone who was curious. He turned on his screen on the inside, and put on his best robot voice.

"Step away, citizen, this is official-"

He stopped once she tapped the screen, right at his nose. She looked fascinated by him, as if this is the first time she'd ever see technology.

"Woah! They have a computer in this thing- that's new! I'll only sit here, just for a second! I've been waiting for a friend."

She sat down in his seat, facing the outside and starting to mess with her phone. He was about to lay on the horn, when she sighed under her breath.

"Come on...I've been waiting two hours, guys."

She got ditched. He wasn't nuts about someone who literally just helped herself to his interior, but Heatwave wasn't sparkless. Not seeing Kade in the distance, he sighed.

"Input address."

"Hmm?"

She looked at the map he put on the screen. She hesitated for a second, biting her lip in thought.

"Uhm...I dunno where it is exactly. Its the uh, the hotels nearby, I think?"

Heatwave knew what she meant. He put the address on the screen, and turned on the light that signaled for a seatbelt. She looked around, as if she was doing something bad, before she grinned, and (finally) shutting his door, then put on her seatbelt. He tried to be quick about this (Kade was SUCH a whiner if he couldn't find Heatwave in the same spot he left him at), despite the fact that traffic was fairly heavy.

"That's so cool, you can drive yourself! Oh you are SO cool! I wonder where's the sirens on this thing?"

Heatwave shouldn't. Those were for emergencies. But traffic wasn't letting up, Kade would call and nag at him for leaving, and...well. She looked like she could use a pick me up. He let the button flash for her, and right when she pressed it, the sirens started to blare. She jumped in the seat, giddy as a sparkling.

"Oh thats so cool!"

Heatwave WAS pretty cool, when he really thought about it. She geeked out well until they reached the empty looking parking lot, then he put it in park.

"Please unfasten your seatbelts, and exit the- ow, the scrap is that?"

She stared at the face on the screen as she started to get out.

"What's...what?"

"There's something on the seats, it's...ITCHY."

She looked around at her seat. Glitter. She gave an embarrassed smile, before shrugging.

"I'm sorry, I got glitter on you. It's kinda my signature thing- wait. Is that...pre-recorded?"

Oh no. He tried to focus on the voice, rather than the itchiness.

"It's nothing to be concerned about-"

He sighed in relief when she dug her hand into his seat, easing that itch. She pulled away quickly, and he knew that face of shock.

"Oh my god. You're not...just a robot. Oh my GOD-"

"Shhhh!"

He pulled his shades back up, realizing it was too late to keep up the robo act.

"Look, okay, I'm not just a truck. But you NEED to keep it a secret. Do you understand?"

She stared at him for a second, trying to take it all in. She slowly started to form her words, taking a step back.

"Uh...are you gonna take over the world or something?"

"If I did, I wouldn't be sitting here with glitter on my seat."

She clearly had a million and one questions, everyone did, but he didn't have time to answer. He cut her off before he could speak.

"I just need to know if you can keep a secret."

"...i can. Especially since you helped me. I won't tell anyone, promise."

"Good. Now, I gotta hurry back, you stay safe. And uh- stop sitting in random trucks. Its kinda rude."

He shut his door, about to take off, when she gripped onto the door handle. He stopped, watched her as she scribbled on a napkin, before tucking it in his windshield wipers.

"In case you need me to say a proper sorry."

With that, she turned, and walked inside. He looked wround, and after making sure no one could see him, transformed, and looked at the napkin. A string of numbers that didn't make any sense.

Weird little human.

"Funny how after that you just couldn’t leave me alone, huh Heats?"

"I'm a rescue bot. Helping people is what I do. By the way, I'm STILL not over the glitter."

"You just mad because I'm cute."

She WAS cute, he'd give her that. He pulled up to a drive thru (the one Kade always went to), chuckling.

"Just order something, I don't want you hungry for where we're going."

"Oh sure, I got some spare cash-"

"No. I said I was going to treat you, and I meant it. There's a wallet in the glove box, use the cash."

She took it out, raising a brow.

"Who's 'Kade'?"

"Friend of mine. He owed me the money, so don't sweat it."

Well. He SORT of did, for dealing with him on a daily basis. After ordering fries, a shake, and nuggets, they were off. She raised a brow as she took a sip of her drink.

"Where ARE we going anyway?"

"Wouldn’t be a surprise if I told you, would it?"

"Can I at least get a hint? Please?"

"Okay, okay. One hint. It's got more flowers."

She thought about it for a second, and he wanted to laugh. She had such a cute scowl when she was in deep thought. Wasn't even looking out the window to see where that they had in fact, stopped by now.

"Is it...a flower shop?"

"No, but good idea for next time. Look outside."

She looked outside, and he felt her cute little feet stomp on by his pedals in excitement.

"No way!! Let me out, I wanna see I wanna see!"

"Hold your turbo horses!"

He tried to make it sound like it was scolding, but the laughter betrayed him. He unlocked the door, and like a fresh sparkpubby, she bolted. He had found this spot, full of flowers, and secluded from most of the usual hiking trails. Someplace they could really, and honestly be alone.

"It's SO pretty here! Why aren't there more people here?"

He watched her use her phone to take plenty pictures, and in a way, it was sweet, knowing she HAD to remember this place.

"No one really knows. Small island, lots of mysteries. You grabbed the blanket right?"

She stopped, before taking off her backpack and nodded. It was more of a tarp, given the size, but she did bring it. She set laid it out, and after getting her food, she sat down on her knees, giddy as hell.

"So. Am I finally gonna see the real Heatwave? Mr 'rescue bot leader'?"

They had been texting a lot since they first met, she knew damn well that stuff like that made him feel a bit frazzled. She really saw him as this incredible being. If only he knew he saw her the same way. He took a deep breath, just as he learned in yoga.

"Okay. I can show you. But you need to keep calm, okay?"

"I can do calm!"

"I love the enthusiasm, but freckles, come on."

Her said freckled face scowled as her arms folded across her chest.

"Fine. I'll be calm. Promise."

He transformed, and knelt down, trying to make himself look smaller. It didn't really work. She gawked at him, little eyes wide and mouth open.

"I...get it. It's a lot, and it's weird and confusing-"

"You did NOT tell me you were hot."

It was Heatwave's turn to be surprised. She wasn't repelled him; she was ATTRACTED to him. Oh no. Oh no, he was tracking her eyes- she was giving him a total once over, clearly trying to take him all in. He cleared his throat, tipping his hat down to cover his optics a bit. She REALLY thought he was 'hot' (which he learned meant 'attractive' and not 'on fire').

"Could uh...could the hot mech take a seat with you?"

She scooted a bit, patting the spot next to her. He was careful with the flowers, before he finally sat down. Heatwave found it difficult to make eye contact again, they both did. What do you do when a girl you REALLY liked called you 'hot'? Do you say 'you too'? Or 'thanks'? He was apparently super obvious with his feelings, she opted to get the ball rolling.

"So? Tell me about yourself! All I know is your name, and that you're a firetruck."

He finally turned to look at her. He had not much to say, but he did have a lot to LOOK at.

"I'm Heatwave, leader of the rescue bots on Griffin Rock. I come from the planet Cybertron, and I help citizens of this island anyway I can. I do rescues. I've also been in a few parades, but I don't like thinking about that. Kid's have REALLY gross hands..."

She chuckled, clearly amused. The whole time he was talking, he was super distracted. Her eyes looked like stars, her hair was soft yet wild, like the ocean, and her...mouth. Humans always looked squishy to him, but this one had such soft lips. They were glossy, and they looked so precious as she ate. The way her tongue licked the salt off of her tiny fingers-

"Heatwave!"

"Huh? What? What's wrong?"

"You were staring kinda off into space? And you're steaming!"

Oh no. He really was. He checked his HUB, and sure enough, temperatures were above normal. He cleared his throat, shaking his head.

"Sorry, sorry. It uhm...happens."

"You sure you don't want me to like. Feel your forehead or something?"

He was about to say no, but the idea of her hand on his metal...well. One touch wouldn't hurt.

"If it'll make you feel better. Knock yourself out."

He lowered himself down to her level, and she pressed her little hand against his forehead. Oh she was so soft.

"Woah. You are WARM. Like a heater! Oh this is nice actually."

She put both hands on him, now at the sides of his face. Her smile was...so close to him. Her eyes were full of wonder and comfort. She felt comfortable with him. He wasn't self concious about his looks, but knowing that someone so pretty, so full of wonder, found HIM attractive- it made his processor spin.

"You...you got a lot more freckles than I thought. Don't think I could count them all."

"Sounds like quitter talk to me, Heats."

Oh the way he smiled at her. He felt joy plenty of times, but this. This was something so incredibly different.

"I don't back down from a challenge. One. Two. Three. Four. Five...six..."

He was losing track. She smelled prettier than any flower here, her breath was hitting his lips. Then, it happened. Her lips pressed against his, and his spark was absolutely thumping. He hadn't ever...kissed someone before. He never wanted to, up till now. He, as carefully as he could, even pushed a strand of hair behind her ear. It was so sweet, so soft.

Then Heatwave got carried away. He pulled her closer to him, steam hissing from his frame as his glossa kept rubbing against her lips. Her mouth was small, but he demanded entry. She was eager to give it to him, and his glossa got a taste of hers. Still sweet from the shake she just had, it was a taste he wanted more of. He held her in place, not wanting to let this feeling go. She tasted so good, she was so warm, so soft, and wet, and-

"What's wrong?"

He pulled away when he noticed it. She averted her gaze, cleaning the oral lubricant Heatwave had left around her mouth.

"What...do you mean?"

"You're warm. Really warm. And your legs are pressed together. Did I hurt you?"

"No! No, I just...uhm...okay, this is embarrassing. I uhm...forget it, it was just that kissing you and..."

He looked confused for a moment, before he gestured to her.

"If I made you uncomfortable or hurt you, I really should take a look at it. Unless you want me to take you out to see someone?"

Heatwave wasn't dumb. He just knew you shouldn't be poking around someone's bits unless you absolutely had to. She leaned back into his hand, spreading her legs apart, and giving him permission to look. He lifted her skirt up, and saw, to his surprise, that humans had a valve. Didn't have the biolights he was usee to, but still so soft, hot, and at the moment, wet. She groaned into her hand, totally embarrassed.

"I'm sorry, I just. You had your tongue out and it just, uh-"

"Oh. You like my tongue?"

Heatwave decided to be bold. He lifted her up, and slowly ran his glossa alongside her folds. Oh the way her legs shook once she felt him. He pulled away, a huge smirk on his face.

"Aw, you good there, freckles? Lookin' a little shakey."

Her face was flushed, her frame shook like a helpless bolt bunny- she was precious.

"Can you just...a bit more? Please Heatwave?"

Who was he to say no to someone who damn near tasted like rainbows?(it was a saying Blades used here, he assumed he was using it right) he brought his mouth up to her again, and dove back in. Only this time, he savored her. He lapped at her little folds hungrily, glossa threatening every once a while to bury himself into her. He felt her little hands grab onto his helmet, felt her legs squirm as she whined for him.

"S-shit, Heatwave. You're...mmph!"

He looked up at her, seeing how she clamped her hand over her mouth. She was enjoying this so much, she was even trying to hump his glossa, desperate for more. With his free hand, he clicked open his spike panel, letting his hand slowly stroke his currently leaky spike.

"Keep making those noises. I like it. I REALLY like it."

She gave him what he wanted, moaning and whimpering helplessly as her fluids started to drip down his face. It felt so good, stroking his spike to the sound of her little mewls.

"W-wait, wait a second."

He pulled away, forcing himself to put his tongue back into his mouth.

"What's wrong?"

"I just. Didn’t want to finish like that. You deserve something too."

He let her go as she wanted to, before he found himself laying back, watching her as she faced away from him. He twitched upon feeling her hand at his sensitive metal, then her hot breath at his tip.

"Wait, I dunno if-"

Then her mouth was at his tip. Oh the way electricity shot up his spinal ridge.

"N-never mind. That. Keep doing it. Way more of that."

Heatwave couldn't just sit there and be lazy piece of scrap metal. He lifted up her skirt, and instead of using his glossa like earlier, he started to use his servos. He sat there, holding onto her cute ass, thumb rubbing in between her folds, all while she sat there, little tongue rolling against his spike, slurping and licking at the transfluids that came from him. He watched as heat rolled from his mouth and into the open air.

Then she came. All it took was a few quick, fast circles against her folds, and she cried out against his metal, dripping from her legs, down to his just waxed body. Suffice to say, hearing her little sounds, watching her as she she tried all she could to please him-it was too much for Heatwave. He overloaded right after, hand digging into the dirt underneath him. He wanted to sit there, basking in the afterglow, when he looked up. He didn't just stain his chest, he stained her pretty shirt. He sat up with a bit of a jolt, knowing he fucked it up.

"Fucking shit- I'm sorry, I'm usually messy but that was an-"

She chuckled, shaking her head, and wiping the bits of overload from her lips.

"It's just a shirt. Really, it's fine."

Heatwave wasn't a usually a 'no it's not' kinda guy. He usually believed when people left it at that. But something about the way she wiped her face free of his overload, made him think differently.

"Why don't I take you back into town, buy you some new clothes?"

"I mean....if you're offering and all."

Heatwave chuckled. Yep. He definitely had the hots for her.

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

"Kade! Heatwave is back!"

Dani called out from the kitchen. It was well into the night at this point by the time Heatwave pulled in. Kade rushed out to meet him before he made it into the garage.

"Where have you been? Chase has been trying to-"

"I kept him updated on the situation across town, so unless an emergency happened-"

"An emergency DID happen!"

Heatwave finally decided to hit the breaks and pay attention.

"What happened? Is everyone safe?"

"You drove off, and I left my wallet in your glove box- had to cancel MY date because you didn't come back."

Heatwave sighed in relief. It was stupid, sure, but at least it wasn't a real emergency.

"Alright, hop in and get it."

He opened his door, and Kade reached in to get it. Once he hopped out, Heatwave drove into the garage to explain himself to the rest of the crew. Then he heard Kade yell from behind him.

"HEATWAVE WHY IS MY WALLET EMPTY?!"

He should feel guilty. But remembering her smile? He absolutely didn't.

#asks #lemon #heatwave #self insert #hope you enjoy bitch #happy birthday!

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par-forthecurse · 2 years

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Par for the Curse - Issue 1

Where do we even start, lovelies?

First and foremost, the essays listing reasons why Draco Malfoy should be forgiven go straight into the fireplace, so please stop wasting your parchment. Your owls will thank you. They’re tired of carrying such giant loads of shite for such long distances.

Secondly? We need to talk about the slut shaming. When I ask you to send me gossip, I don’t want or need messages telling me that Pansy Parkinson is playing the former Slytherin boys. Also for fuck’s sake, please remember that we’re not actually IN school anymore, they’re formerly Slytherins, not current Slytherins. If you’re going to say that Pansy went home with Marcus after the Quidditch exhibition, say Pansy Parkinson went home with the greatest Chaser the Falmouth Falcons have EVER seen, Marcus Flint! Not a Slytherin. Also… rubbing up on Goyle like a tease? Have you met Pansy? Last time I saw Pansy I think we got to second base with one another. It’s not teasing, it’s called having fun and celebrating the fact that we can freely go out and not have to worry about being killed anymore. If girls want to bump and grind a little, let them do it freely. Also, to imply that she needs to fuck Draco Malfoy to get work at all? Check yourself. Seriously. If I had to put money on it, Malfoy probably offered the job to her, along with everything else he can afford now that he’s claimed his trust fund for the mere chance to get her in bed with him again.

While we’re on that subject, implying Astoria Greengrass is also a player, also because she happens to be seen with the former Slytherin boys a lot? Not cool. We will say that we’re a little intrigued by some of the rumors we’re hearing about her love life though. She’s been spotted on an actual date with Greg Goyle (who, we honestly didn’t know knew how to behave inside a restaurant with a dress code, but we can freely admit when we��re wrong) and was seen leaving the Quidditch exhibition with him, but we’ve heard more than a few rumors that there’s something scandalous going on with her and Draco Malfoy behind the scenes. Like I said though, I have eyes and ears everywhere and they haven’t shown their faces together in the wizarding world, so I think it’s all bullshite. I will have to say though, Astoria, whoever gave you that Toussaint bracelet… exquisite taste! Is that a hookup from your aunt? Can you hook me up too?

Speaking of the Greengrass family, looks like Daphne’s decided to come down from her high horse in Rosier Tower and see how everyone she thinks is beneath her lives. I wonder if that has to do with the rumors going around about a secret relationship with her and Marcus Flint.

Who… Marcus, we need to talk. I like to think we’re on a first name basis by now, especially considering I’ve named all of our future children. Why on earth am I getting pictures owled to me of you having lunch with my sister of all people? I mean… I love Padma more than ANYBODY in the world, but if I’m busy when you try and owl me at the magazine, you shouldn’t track down deepfake Parvati, you should wait for the real thing! Also what’s this I hear about you starting fights at the pub? I heard you and Goyle were fighting over Astoria or Pansy or someone… honestly I couldn’t even keep the details straight, but then again, the person who told me that ALSO told me that Padma left the bar with Goyle and we all know THAT didn’t happen. Hahahahhahaha. As if.

Millicent Bulstrode made it back for pub night though, looking stunning if I do say so myself. Apparently Holyhead’s not treating her as well as she’d hoped, but sources say she’s been spotted spending quality time at a local haunt with the Harpies’ own Ginny Weasley. The two were seen getting positively plastered after practice last week, and looked to be having a genuine heart to heart. Wonder how Bulstrode’s going to feel about that once she finds out Weasley’s new workout buddy is her “on again, off again, will they, won’t they, tall, dark, and handsome” Blaise Zabini. The Puddlemere Chaser was spotted at the gym with Weasley, and though the two didn’t look to be doing anything romantic, who knows what goes on in those steam rooms? Not me.

The youngest Weasley isn’t wasting any time though, and more than a few owls have come in with first hand witness reports that she and the Savior of the Wizarding World, Harry Potter himself, AKA the world’s WORST Yule Ball Date EVER (JK Harry love you xoxoxo) get this… had coffee together. And smiled at each other.

THIS IS NOT NEWS.

As somebody who has spent a significant amount of time with both Ginny and Harry, I can promise you that coffee and smiles do not automatically mean a rekindled relationship. Again, STOP. WASTING. PARCHMENT. If you see them making out, that’s news, but also that’s their business so at least be discrete about the fact that you’re watching them like a creep and then writing a national magazine to tell them what you saw.

I digress.

In other Weasley news! Looks like the Weasley men have a fan club and it’s made up of one Demelza Robins! Call her Demi though. Someone spotted Charlie Weasley, Dragon Tamer extraordinaire, going into her parents’ CLOSED flower shop together. This person apparently stood outside and watched the apartment lights come on and either cried about it, or masturbated in the shadows of the night as they imagined what was happening inside. Either way, that age gap might be a little too much for dear Demi, as we’ve also gotten news that she’s been making moves on George Weasley as well.

Honestly, we can respect somebody who works their way through siblings. By that logic, I’ll be getting ready for my date with Marcus ASAP.

George Weasley though. My heart. I don’t just say that because I want to hug him every time I see him and give him everything good in the world either, I say that because he’s just… he’s wonderful. And he was on a date. In muggle London. I don’t know WHO he was with, but it was a date with a girl and he was happy and that’s all I want for him in the entire world.

You know who ELSE went on a date? Hermione Granger. Yes indeed, the brightest witch of our age is BACK IN ACTION, taking Liverpool by storm with an incredibly handsome footballer, which is essentially the muggle equivalent to quidditch, but on the ground and less fun, but it doesn’t matter because I looked this man up and he is GORGEOUS! Best of luck to one of my favorite Lionesses!

Lastly, multiple people have reported that Luna Lovegood and Draco Malfoy were seen hugging in Diagon Alley the other day. My guess is he put her under the Imperius curse, I heard he was good at that one. Probably how he got the Wasps to sell the team to him too. Luna’s far too smart to have done that willingly. Ugh. I’ll have to send Padma to do a welfare check.

That’s all for this week!

Remember, donations can still be made to the Lavender Brown Memorial Fund! Just twenty galleons a year makes sure young girls at Hogwarts don't go without the latest and greatest hair and beauty potions. Owl your donations to Witch Weekly HQ, earmarked "LAV"

#draco malfoy #pansy parkinson #hermione granger #luna lovegood #greg goyle #marcus flint #millicent bulstrode #padma patil #astoria greengrass #daphne greengrass #blaise zabini #demelza robins #charlie weasley #ginny weasley #harry potter #george weasley #parforthecurse1

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pandawriterstuff · 3 years

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Pinehallow Summary & Character List

This is my main WIP, if I'm complaining about characters doing whatever they want, this is them.

Pinehallow Summary-Monty, an eleven year old boy who has spent most of his life traveling from place to place with his in-demand lawyer mother, Irene, is sent to live at his uncle's horse ranch because she thinks he needs roots. Used to nearly everyone but his mother not being around long enough to get to know, Monty is more than a bit uncertain about this. But in scrambling to find his place in a town different to anything he's ever known, he finds friends, both human and animal, makes discoveries, and even manages to foil a plot against Pinehallow Ranch itself.

Character List

Monty (Montgomery) Cade Waller- Main character, 11, white. Monty is curious, bright, and more than a little awkward. He has a tendency to state the obvious, which can be endearing or annoying depending on your perspective. Big vocabulary and grown-up way of speaking because he’s spent more time around grown-ups than other kids. He’s quietly stubborn, particularly when it comes to being told he’s wrong when he knows he’s right. Insecure about socializing and friendships because of constant moving and traveling. Can’t hold a grudge for the life of him, even when he likely should. He likes bugs, birds and turtles, would rather read nonfiction than a story. Fills lonely afternoons with sketching, nature sketching on the ranch.

Irene Waller- Monty’s mother, 36, white. Irene is a powerful corporate lawyer, either full of energy or exhausted, never in between. She loves using words to sway minds and deciphering documents to find exactly what the opposition doesn’t want her to find. Sometimes Irene wishes she was using her skills in more meaningful ways, but also really likes the money, the traveling, and the competition. Has an almost encyclopedic knowledge of show tunes from musicals. She has a hard time letting people get close. Would stab someone for her baby, but knows it’s better to teach him to stab for himself. Only partially joking. Dolly Parton is her hero, and as much as she loves her music, it’s Dolly the business woman and Dolly the philanthropist that she strives to emulate.

Keith Waller- Monty’s uncle, 34, white. Horse Rancher. Keith loves working hard and getting dirty, and if he’s not exhausted at the end of the day he’ll be looking for something else to push him there. Otherwise he gets antsy. Loves animals and absolutely will not tolerate anyone mistreating any of the animals on his ranch-ordinarily he’s very careful of his size and strength, in that situation, all bets are off. Times that by about ten for any of the ‘barn rats’ that help around the ranch for riding lessons/time. Loves romantic comedies and telanovas and doesn’t care who knows it. Keith doesn’t read a lot, it never came easy to him, but if he’s taking a long trip he’ll always check an audio book or two out of the library instead of just relying on the radio.

Juniper - Keith’s goddaughter, 15, white. She has a calm, confident personality with a smile for most everyone she meets. If she doesn’t have a smile for you and it isn’t because her head is in the clouds over a girl, you’ve probably earned her scorn and will be ignored as much as possible. Juniper raises rabbits and it’s taught her patience, and a lot about unfairness when a kit doesn’t make it. She helps out with riding lessons at the ranch in exchange for riding time of her own, and has become a fixture, spending more time there than she does at home, and when she can get away with it, school. Loves sunflowers and her sunflower comforter is probably her most prized possession.

Nell - Caretaker/cook for the ranch house(would cooking lunch for the workers still be a thing on a modern ranch?). 38, white(?). Not about to put up with nonsense. Will make you cookies if she doesn’t have to put up with nonsense. Please. At one point she wanted to be a chef and has a year of culinary school under her belt, but quickly decided the super fast paced and competitive environment wasn’t for her. Anything that was making her hate one of her favorite things that fast could not be good for a person. She intends to live a long, long life and that kind of stress can just walk right out of the door. Loves to go on long walks, often into the hills (BLM land) behind the ranch. (maybe she was taught/took a class on foraging, and teaches Monty to find wild onions and stuff? But this would mean *I* have to learn about foraging in Idaho.) This leads to a contented, if often silent, companionship between her and Monty, who desperately wants to explore/record/sketch everything about the natural world of his new home, particularly the parts that are off limits to him without an adult along.

Ray- Family Friend/Co-Owner of R & M General (designed to feel vintage, but shiny. Bit of a tourist stop now, they decided to lean into it.), 50, Black. He uses his background in chemistry to make amazing looking candies and chocolates, using that to deal with a time he used it in less pleasant ways when he was in the military. He never expected anybody outside of his small town, or maybe the folks at the county fair to make so much fuss over them. This might embarrass him, if he weren’t so delighted. A cheerful man with a dreamer’s heart, a magazine once referred to him as a small town Willy Wonka. He dotes on his wife, often making and gifting her small surprises. An amputee in honor of my Grandpa (missing left leg at the knee, possibly missing one arm as well, but I’m not sure how that would affect candy making.). Has certain parts of his past he just doesn’t talk about.

Mavis- Co-Owner of ____ with Ray, 48, Black. Fierce and kind in equal measures, Mavis believes in protecting what’s hers, and as far as she’s concerned the entire town of (oh my god, it needs a name) is included in that. Mavis is very selective about the battles she fights, but when she chooses one she throws herself in whole-heartedly. On several committees around town, she’d be on more, but then she wouldn’t have enough time to really get into the work of the ones she loves. She knits in her limited free time, often while listening to the news, but sometimes opera. Has started knitting stuffies in the shapes of the more unusual candies Ray makes, it’s silly, but fun, and tourists and the local kids love it. Still head over heels for Ray, even though his often dreaming about things for ages instead of just doing them is also still baffling to her.

Leanna - Juniper’s sort-of girlfriend, 15, Vietnamese. Quiet, a little cynical, but very empathetic. She avoids the news because it’s that or be mad and want to cry all the time-until she hears about something she can’t not research, and goes on a 24 hour google search and learns far more than is probably good for her about a species going extinct due to logging in prohibited areas, or genocide being covered up by claims of violent uprisings. She loves manga and comics. Leanna sometimes tries for a cottagecore* type aesthetic, but mostly thinks it's too much work. She’s starting to worry about what she’s going to do with her future, and people telling her that she’s only 15 and doesn’t have to worry about it yet is NOT HELPING.

*even though cottagecore isn’t a thing in the early-mid 2000s this is maybe/vaguely set in. Shh, let me have this. Anne of Green Gablesesque maybe?

Winnie - Leanna’s mom, 45, Vietnamese. Widow? A little ditzy, but a lot loving. Everyone in town is convinced she’s the stoner type of hippy, but no one minds as she’s someone who truly wants to know how you’re doing when she asks and strangely almost always has very spot on advice. She’s rarely on time anywhere, but that’s because she’ll have stopped to talk, and often to help, whoever she’s run into. Leanna and her bicker over this when she’s late picking her up. Always wears bright colors. Loves Agatha Christie books. Calls everyone, even people 50 years older than her, hon.

Logan - Juniper’s stepdad, 40, white. Kind of a jerk, but most of the jerky things he says are actually jokes that fall flat or have simply gotten old. Tries really hard, like *really* hard, but has a tendency to get annoyed if people don’t appreciate his efforts right away-more in his personal life than professional, possibly because of his profession. A contractor, hard worker, loyal, has worked for the same company since he was twenty even though they don’t often treat him right. Sometimes tries to buy people’s affections. Wants to have better communication with Juniper, but it’s gotten really hard the last few years and he’s never quite sure why.

Candice - Juniper’s Mom, 39, white, works at a nursery that sells seedlings and baby fruit trees, has a cheerful, calm personality, but a lot softer and more lowkey than Juniper’s version. Very house proud, but has a ‘maximalist’ approach to decorating-everything is in its place, but there are places for lots of things. Loves spending time outdoors, but would rather spend it tending her garden than hiking or riding, preferably with a cup of tea by her side. On the weekends, a fruity beer or wine instead. Wants to go on one of those train rides where you get to drink wine, eat canapes and try to solve a mystery, thinks Winnie might be a good candidate for someone to go with her.

Ura - a ‘barn rat’, 12 and a half, white(maybe a Czech immigrant? 2nd generation?) . A cheerful, rough and tumble boy who is always climbing things, and often being told to stop when he gets too high for other people's comfort. Ura is fearless when it comes to physical feats, but has a fear of ‘slimy’ things like worms and frogs. He has a thick layer of pudge and a big appetite, but is athletic and strong enough that anyone bullying him over it would be doing it at their own peril. Not that he’s the type to start fights, or even finish them most of the time. Doesn’t feel he quite fits in with his family, who are all more serious, reserved people. Redwood is his favorite of the horses, and Keith has all but given up on telling him that sitting on the floor of Red’s stall to talk to the horse isn’t exactly safe.

Elliot - Ray and Mavis’s son, Black, 19 and a college student-maybe/probably at U of I. Lives on campus, but comes home at least a couple weekends a month. Has an older car that he and Ray fixed up together, that is his pride and joy. Quiet, with an irreverent sense of humor that he unleashes somewhat at random. Interested in robotics, engines and mechanics and generally has some project he’s working on, a piece of which may or may not be in his pocket. Often has oil, grease, or ink on his hands, either from working on or designing a new project. A bit of an overachiever, he can spread himself thin trying to live up to all his responsibilities at once. He’s best friends with Randy, a friendship his parents want to disapprove of, because the few times Elliot’s gotten into trouble not only was Randy there, but 99% of the time whatever it was is Randy’s idea, but never quite manage too.

Randy - Handyman at the ranch, mixed race Hispanic and white, 21. Technically head handyman, because the old head retired six months ago, and is a little young/inexperienced for the job, but he’s not the type to back away from a challenge and has risen to the occasion beautifully. Loves rock and metal music, and spends a lot of his free weekends at concerts, the ones crammed into little venues and bars where people are practically on top of each other and the beat is so loud and solid it throbs through you, connecting you to everyone even before you hit the mosh pit, are his preference. He’s been working at the ranch since he was 16, and feels like he has a claim on it, not afraid to speak up if he thinks a decision Keith is making isn’t right or that he isn’t taking something important into consideration. Can be a bit wild when he’s not being the responsible one, definitely doesn’t always think before he acts.

Alma - Local artist/worker at R & M’s, Hispanic, 25. Alma is a painter and poet, a confident young woman who’s figured out that half of surviving as an artist is being your own agent/a salesperson as well, and in addition to several shelves at the R & M that hold postcard prints of many of her pieces, both the coffee shop and cafe have some of her larger paintings displayed, and she always has a booth at the Saturday market, though the majority of her sales come from her website. Alma is cheerful, and likes to tease, and growing up the middle child of four brothers, is very able to hold her own in verbal sparring. She’s close with her family, still living with her parents, and while at first her father was dismayed at her choice of career, he now hands out her business card to basically everyone he talks to.

Miriam - Nell’s Mom, white, 71, a little deaf, speaks loudly, partially because of the deafness, partially because she spent too long letting other people push her around and when she hit about 50 decided she was going to be the one talking over people now. She’s earned it. Age has made her more delicate than she likes, bruising and scraping easily, but she’s determined to do most things for herself. Those that are beyond her she has no problem loudly ordering someone else to take care of. Volunteers a lot, often fosters kittens for the local animal shelter. Used to chain smoke, quit when Nell was a teenager because she kept leaving pictures of diseased lungs everywhere. Still uses the candy ones as a substitute.

Places

Unnamed Town- Somewhere in Latah County, Idaho, where there is not already a town in the way. Around 200 years old and has grown and shrunk and grown again, and currently has a population of about 12,000. Having grown out from a traditional mainstreet, _______ no longer has the western style boardwalk seen in old pictures, but it does have a large cluster of local businesses and ‘hot spots’ still along that old main street, a coffee shop, a diner, a combination bookshop and independent library, a hardware store, a bar, a few places I haven’t thought of yet, and of course R & M General. There is a historical barn half a mile or so away from mainstreet that has been converted into a theater/meeting hall/dance hall, and a community center was added onto it in the early 90’s. During the summer there is a farmer’s market on the property every Saturday. The elementary school and junior high are all on one property, several miles out of town, because the majority of families live on farms, ranches or small rural properties rather than in one of the neighborhood clusters in the town itself. The junior high is 7th, 8th and 9th graders, in a newer two story building, and the elementary school is divided into lower and upper elementary with the bracket shaped building basically being cut in half, K-3 on one side and 4-6 on the other. The high school is outside of town on the other side by several miles, and actually serves kids from another town(s) as well. There is also a trailer park with about forty units, not exactly sure where it is yet, but Miriam(Nell’s Mom) lives there. There is also an animal shelter, a vet’s office, a cemetery, and a couple churches, and I’m sure more things to come.

R & M General (working title?)- Ray and Mavis’s store, a general store with a candy focused twist. A vintage Pepsi sign, neon still bright, and a charming green glass juke-box filled with hits from the 1940’s onward grace the front porch of the R & M, along with a long bench that locals are encouraged to use for a spell or to listen to a couple songs, provided they can behave themselves (teenagers arguing over who their favorite member of the rat pack is might be amusing, considering they were already ‘mom and dad’, or at least older brother and sister, music by the time Mavis and Ray were teenagers, but when they get loud it also gets annoying.). The store itself still has the original wooden counter up front and built-in shelves along the walls, but all refinished and polished to a high shine. A mixture of display types going down the middle of the store, barrels and baskets filled with skeins of colorful yarn and cloth or Mavis’s knitted stuffies(and during winter sometimes socks and mittens), other sewing and craft supplies, display racks with local arts, postcards and carvings, sometimes wind up toys made by Elliot, and of course many, many displays of candies and chocolates. They also have a lot of dry goods, and some of the simpler candy types have little instruction booklets and the ingredients it takes to try out making them yourself stocked in the same display, drink coolers, and sometimes have local produce available. Basically, they have a bit of everything, except for building equipment/home repair supplies, and that’s because of the hardware store across the street.

Pinehallow Ranch-A sprawling 100 acre ranch in Latah County, Idaho where the Waller family has been doing something or other with horses for four generations now. Originally it was a horse breeding ranch, but Keith and Irene’s grandfather felt the money was in training horses, and offered boarding as well, and Keith has continued to build that up, offering lessons for a variety of styles, ages, and skill levels. Butting up against BLM land that allows additional grazing and trail riding, the ranch has four pastures, a large corral, a medium sized indoor arena and two horse barns, one for boarded horses and one for the ranch's own stock, and an equipment barn, an old bunkhouse that is mostly used to store feed-though Randy has slept there when in between places, mostly unbeknownst to Keith-and some smaller equipment sheds, placed where they’re needed. The main house is an L-shaped ranch house with a porch that goes around the entire long front of the house with a large herb/kitchen and rock garden arranged around that. There are treed pockets scattered here and there, left alone as the rest of the ranch was developed, but the creek Monty and Juniper sometimes hang out at is on BLM land, as is most of the forested area around the ranch.

Pinehallow Taglist @sleepysera @enchanted-lightning-aes @odysseywritings @thegreatobsesso @writing-is-a-martial-art and @hiitsolivia If anyone else wants to be added just interact with the post :) (My more advanced tumblr knowledge has led me to believe this is better than asking people to reblog/comment to be added, but if I'm wrong just let me know.)

#character list #oc list #someday I'll do a proper series introduction #and an introduction for me #but today is not that day #pinehallow ranch #original writing #I tend to build my world around the characters #backwards I know

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meowdymista · 3 years

Text

For my first RDR2 event, I was paired with @sunspott / @polybigbang. Their art was for a playlist on spotify called Going’s All We Know, and I’ve tried to incorporate the mood of the playlist into my first impression of the art.

You can read my submission on AO3 or follow through with the read more :)

Still No Rest

Feet are itching again, plus it ain't like we can stick around much longer. Going is all we know, even if we ain't got nowhere else left.

Things had been too steady of late. They had been too safe, had slipped away far too easily, had pulled moneybags out of places that should have fought back but hadn't even batted an eye.

Arthur pushes back his hair, greasy and long, off his brow. The clouds above are smoky and dark - a storm, just as anticipated.

Maybe he jumped a little too far too fast today. Maybe if he hadn't been so on edge waiting for something to go wrong, they could have deescalated the situation. Maybe lives could have been spared, but it’s not like the guilt isn’t scratching the ridges of his brain like a dusty gramophone needle.

What makes you any different? You who's always scraping for a scrap of some sort. Them trying to do the right thing and crossing your path to do it. Better you than them, right? Like Daddy always said, if they didn’t want to die they should mind their own business.

A new start: isn't that what they had promised themselves? A new state, a new town, a new camp: a clean slate that he had managed to bloody in a record three days.

Every bullet that screamed past his ear left his bones ringing with that too familiar dull tired ache. Every blade that snagged his clothes instead of his skin embittered him. The tiniest of voices hummed with the thought that maybe, maybe, he should fight that craving for carelessness and even tell someone about it… but the beast he’s become scowls and reminds him with a low growl that then they would stop him. They would take him off the front line, teach the gangly adolescent John - who is a far worse shot - to replace him.

It's not even jealousy really, he reasons as he slips his journal away and stretches into a stand. They need him. Need his gun, his eye, his blade. Worrying them isn’t an option, especially right now. He doesn’t need to make them doubt his reliability, or question whether they’ve misplaced their trust. He knew in his heart that if anyone in the gang confessed the same, he would refuse their gun, even if he needed it - and afterwards? In the weeks, months, years to come? He would always pick someone else. Someone less vulnerable. Someone he never doubted or needed to protect.

Which is how he ended up going out with the feller Dutch had picked up when they were up North. He’s had a few too many close shaves under Hosea’s watchful eye of late as he struggled to conceal the beast's rearing head. The old man was onto him, his brown eyes still boring into him, even after Copper found his way to him.

Bill, on the other hand, is always game for a ruckus. He has as much of a temper as he does, and can match him drink for drink. Some of the stories he lets slip prickle him - like the beast recognising a party equal, a fellow host. He says nothing. Doesn't validate them, doesn't acknowledge them or aim to empathise, he just accepts the added weight of tar and grudges home with another bottle.

“Arthur?”

"M'tired," grunts Arthur, walking past Hosea, boots scuffing the dry red earth beneath them. “Besides, you know how it is. Sometimes bullets fly no matter what you do.”

Hosea doesn’t dignify his excuse with a response, and despite the poker face, Arthur can feel the guilt twist a little tighter in his gut as he sets about washing his arms and face in the barrel by the food reserves. He knows nothing good would come from trying to explain the truth of the situation... How a glimpse of a little boy in his peripherals is as sure a sign of upcoming thunder as lightning flashing in the distance. His not-brown-not-blond tussle of hair brushing the wind with fat drops of rain… rain that never came, leaving Arthur to water the ground with blood, like somehow it could make him feel less like he’s drowning in the driest desert outside of New Mexico.

He pats his pockets for the cigarette he had rolled earlier, until, retracing his steps mentally, he sighs in disappointment. He had been about to light it when it all kicked off. Or rather… it had been in his mouth whilst he tried to align yet another match to the tobacco when he had caught the eye of another patron and decided to swap the nicotine for some adrenaline.

His fondness for Bill always grew at moments like this. Bastard heard one cross word and his guns were out before he found his balance.

Deflated, he uncaps a beer instead, emptying it, tossing it aside and grabbing another, before spotting the girl devouring a bowl of stew a stone's throw away.

"Who's she?" he asks before Hosea can try to raise the day’s events.

"Your new ward."

Arthur stops, scoffing, growing angry when the elder doesn’t back down. "Nuh uh! No way! I just got rid of Johnny! Get Williamson to do it!"

"You'd trust him with her?"

"Sure! Why not?" He glances back at the girl despite himself. His index finger is itching again. "Or get Marston on it. Ain't like he's doing much else."

"John is still learning how to take care of himself, and Bill…"

"He ain't gonna beat up a little girl." Restless, his feet shuffle beneath him, his beer swapping hands before touching his lips again. "And ain't like he's gonna have interest in her."

"You think he wouldn't do it just to prove a point?" Their eyes meet briefly before Arthur's gaze drops. "People who are insecure are far more dangerous than those comfortable in themselves, never forget that Arthur. Besides, I'd rather not expose her to the prejudices she can get any day of the week. She ought to feel safe here, don't you think?"

He finishes the dregs and tosses the bottle, preferring to change the subject than admit he’s right. "Where’d she come from? She got any family?"

"She left her cousin back east. Came this way looking for her mother but she’d passed meanwhile."

"So… what’s the plan? We taking her back east?"

"Sure as shit you ain't!"

The girl has stepped around the table, legs planted apart, hands folded across her flat chest, her hair as free and untamed as her temperament. She is glaring something fierce, making the hairs on the back of his neck standing on end in a fight or flight instinct.

Hosea chuckles softly, eyes bright with pride. "I reckon she's one of us now."

"Well, does she have a name?" asks Arthur, incredulous.

"Jackson." She jerks her heart shaped face in a defensive greeting. "My name is Tilly Jackson."

"Well, Miss Tilly Jackson, you always so fierce?" He stalks the couple of steps to the nearest crate of whiskey and pulls one free.

"You always this stupid?"

"Hey now, Miss Jackson," interrupts Hosea before Arthur can bark. "We don't talk to each other like that here."

"He started it!"

"And you’re sitting with Mrs Matthews when you’re done so she can keep an eye on you!” He ushers her towards Bessie to keep her out of harm's way before turning back to his first product of adoption with a raised brow.

"You sure know how to pick ‘em.”

"Try coming back just half soaked some time. Might make them go easier on you."

Arthur scoffs, his rebuttal dying in his throat. He dampens the ash with another swig.

"I want you to take her with you when you go out."

His scoff is solid. "No way."

Hosea straightens up, watching him, using his body language to ask the questions.

"I ain't taking her out. You want her shot?"

"You intend to shoot her?"

"No, course not-"

"Then what's the problem?"

Arthur's eyes roll in exasperation, his finger flexing around the neck of the bottle like it's a button that will win the argument if he squeezes tight enough. "The problem is other people shooting at us."

"You intend to get shot at?"

"No, but-"

"Then I see no problem."

"That don't mean we ain't gonna get shot at!"

"Why would you get shot at?"

'Cause that's what I set out to do most days, he wants to counter. And if I ain't likely to get shot, I'm likely in jail or black out drunk in a saloon someplace.

Instead he closes his mouth, any excuse dead before it passes his lips.

"I'm not asking you to take her with you to rob a bank, Arthur." Hosea's tone is firm but still soft - a talent of his. "But while you're out looking for leads, or even looting a homestead or something… She's nifty."

"Hosea, I-" He trails off, distracted by the clip of notes Hosea is picking through, and downright thrown when he passes him the thinned out clip. "What's this for? I gettin' paid to be a nanny now?"

“This-” Hosea holds up a couple of notes before putting them in his pocket. “-is for arguing with me. This is for the box, as it seems you’ve forgotten to pay the camp's share, and this-" He casually holds out the last few dollars to the side like he’s ashing a cigarette. A small brown hand slips it away as both Hosea and little Miss Tilly regard him smugly. "Is for a mark well scammed."

"You mean-?" He checks his pockets, ears growing hot. "You son of a-"

“Ah-ah! Language!” Dutch swaggers up with a smirk like he has been watching the introduction unfold in its entirety. “C’mon, Arthur, you have to give it to her. She’s talented!”

“Might finally have picked up a smart one, eh, Dutch?” winks Hosea. Arthur scowls and turns on his heel, leaving them laughing and praising their newest addition.

****

Arthur remains cool and calm the next few days, hunting local and sticking close to camp. Every time he approaches his horse, the little girl is waiting, watching him with her fierce brown eyes.

"Where we goin', Mr Arthur?" She asks as soon as he's within earshot. "Do I need anything bringing?"

Every time he offers to pay double what Hosea has offered her, and every time she refuses to discuss the terms of their negotiation. Every time he curses everything under his breath, keeping his language savoury for the child nearby. Every time he scowls, and every time he gives her a grunt of "naw, we ain't going far" before mounting up and lifting her onto the rear.

"I can ride myself, ya know?" She shoots one morning as Arthur leads his stead into a trot away from camp, heading towards the softer, greener terrain that’s barely visible on the horizon. "Properly. Not side saddle."

"Good for you."

"If I had a horse I would show you."

"And run off with the money we got, huh."

She bristles. "I ain't no snitch."

"Sounds like somethin' a snitch would say." He pops the cork from a half full bottle of rum and takes a swig. Replacing the bottle, he notices her scrunching her nose in disdain. “Got a problem? I can take you back to camp.”

“You sure don’t drink much water,” she comments drily. “You ain’t worried ‘bout heatstroke out here?”

“Liquor’s hydrating,” he scowls, pushing the horse into a canter.

“Pretty sure it ain’t, but you do you. Besides, I got dibs on your things. We all gotta start somewhere, right?”

Arthur snorts angrily, adrenaline prickling the hairs on the back of his neck. “You sure as hell do not, princess. I ain’t going nowhere!”

Miss Jackson hums sarcastically. “Sure you ain’t. You don’t eat, don’t drink anything under forty proof, don’t talk to no one-”

“If you don’t like it, I can drop you right here!”

“Go ahead.” Her tone is defiant, but it doesn’t escape his notice that she grips his sides a little tighter. “Mr Matthews was pretty explicit about what he’d do to you if you tried.”

He stews the next mile or more, not speaking up until he finally dismounts for a break at the change of terrain.

Wide open spaces always helped to ground him, even though it could make vanishing into thin air difficult. To some extent, it forced him to not be so careless. In others, it made it easier to kid himself that he had never crossed the threshold into civilisation, let alone crossed a kind faced waitress.

Listening out for creeping cougars and restless rattlesnakes, he crouches down by the water’s side and splashes his face, washing off the worst of the sweat and dust that’s caked itself into every pore available. The girl makes no move to dismount, so he takes it upon himself to refill her canteen as a gesture of goodwill.

“You don’t got to stick to us, you know.” She turns her big brown eyes from the sky onto Arthur’s face. He shuffles his feet awkwardly, focusing his attention on brushing out the biggest clumps of dust from the horse’s mane before they continue. “If you need me to take you somewhere-”

“And what’s a girl to do then? Hit the road with a couple dollars?” She fixes him with a look that is too old for her face. “Naw, I think I’ll stay with youse a little longer.”

“That’s alright, but we’re gonna have to be moving on real soon.” He bites the inside of his cheek, trying to ignore the unspoken reminder that it’s because of him and his actions. “It ain’t like we can promise to be back up this way any time in the near future. If you change your mind-”

“I won’t change my mind about them, Mr Morgan.” She shivers in a breeze that only seems to touch her. “No, sir. They had me bound real good for real long, but I don’t need ‘em. I won my freedom, Mr Morgan, an’ I ain’t going back.”

He risks a glance, curiosity getting the better of him. Her eyes are sparkling as bright as the water's surface, but her jaw is clenched tight. He debates riding further, doing what he can to get them set up at the fishing spot Hosea had heard about as they moved through the state to their current set up, but the child looked too old. Too tired. Too existentially exhausted.

Plus, when you get low enough, it's like some things will follow wherever you go.

“Let’s stop here a while.”

As predicted, Miss Jackson double takes. “Don’t you want to get to where we’re headed?”

Arthur shrugs. “Ain’t like there ain’t food to be foraged here. Nothing to come raising any hell or bother us into raising it for them. Reckon this spot’s as good as any.”

He turns his back to her as she dismounts warily, focusing his energy on starting a small campfire they can add to.

"I ain't goin' anywhere if you wanna swim." He grimaces as his words come out gruffer than intended. "I got clean clothes in the saddle bags here if you want 'em for the trip back or to swim in even. Can't imagine that skirt is the lightest when it gets wet."

"You ain't wrong, Mr Arthur, sir. Thank you for the offer but I think I'm just gonna stick to paddling for now."

"Sure."

It's not his first choice. This land is a little too dry for his liking, but that's what comes with being so close to the desert. Money means nothing to nature, besides she provides everything and more than what shops and butchers supply. Who needs civilisation when there's the wilds to retreat into? When there is wild carrots and rhubarb aplenty, fresh meat, shelter, all for the low cost of taking what you need as you need it?

The fire started, he sets out to look for fuel and food. Crouching down to check dung and disturbances in the foliage, he finds the damage is minimal. He swears again, taking a swig of whiskey from his satchel.

He doesn't really remember a time he didn't drink, but he knows this is different. He knows this isn't a choice on his behalf. The demon demands fuel as a child demands milk, and like the fool he is, he provides without much hesitation. Anything for a glimmer of peace from the screaming child in his mind.

He scoffs at himself and straightens up, looking around on the off chance some animal is dumb enough to be caught out in the open - and as luck would have it, a pronghorn buck is grazing a stones throw away.

He inhales deeply, taking aim with newfound focus, and fires.

The pronghorn bolts, but it's no contest for the bullet soaring his way. A mournful cry bleats through the undergrowth as it flees. He follows, as loud as he likes given the rip of the shot would have blasted a warning to anything within earshot. Breaking through a wall of cacti, he spots Miss Tilly aghast in the shallows as the buck splashes into the lake he had washed up in on their arrival.

He keeps going, realising the buck is heading for a wet escape. Shedding his guns as he runs, he wades in after it, shouting.

The buck is swimming in deep water, leaving behind a trail of blood behind with every baleful bleat, leaving Arthur with no option besides taking a spur of the moment swim or going home with an empty stomach.

"C'mere!" he cries, breaking into breaststroke. The buck is slowing, every cry growing more lamenting and mournful. "Stop! I can make it stop, just come a little closer."

It's crying weakly by the time he manages to reach it. He throws an arm over its neck and fumbles for his hunting knife, but the blood proves too thick and one small fumble sends it disappearing into the depths.

"C'mon," he grunts, tugging the wounded animal with him as he kicks his way towards shore. "You ain't gonna get any lighter."

He struggles towards shore, gasping assurances every chance he gets. When his boots finally scrape the bottom, he whistles for his mount with the last of the air in his lungs.

He finally releases the animal, using both hands to search for a knife or a pistol - something to end its suffering quickly. Drowning the thing felt too callous, too slow, too-

"Will this be enough?"

Arthur, still gasping for breath, hair dripping into his blue eyes, pauses, surprised. A small hand is proferring a flip knife, her small face reflecting the distress of his own. Recovering, he nods quickly, thanking her as he takes the tool from her and advising her to look away and cover her ears. Obeying doesn’t lessen the heart wrenching last cry of the animal, but on opening her eyes again, she decides it is less painful than watching the poor thing struggle as it drowned.

Arthur is holding the animal, counting, as though held to some strange code to make sure it is dead before removing the tool of choice. He shakes the knife under the surface and folds it up, passing it back to her with a grunt of thanks. She takes it, still in shock at the unexpected show of violence.

He pushes the carcass out of the water, promising to be back soon before swimming back to where he caught the animal. Watching his head disappear under the surface, she is left with the silence of the cooling body nearby. It looks strangely peaceful staring off into the east.

Arthur swims back, pushing back the sodden mop of brown hair as he wades out with sopping boots and a shiny carving knife he must have dropped earlier. He advises her to leave him to it if she’s squeamish, and she refuses up until the animals guts plume onto the sand.

From a distance, she watches him carry them away from their makeshift camp, covering them up with some leaves and branches to disguise the worse of the mess but leave it readily available to the creatures due a feast. Returning to the body, he begins to carve with care, piling steaks onto canvas. He wastes as little as possible, even wrapping the exposed neck of the head in canvas before tying it onto the horse. He turns to the water, notices her watching and walks over.

“Reckon we’re almost done here,” he calls as he gets close enough. “Just gonna wash up and we can get going.”

“You always butcher your kill before going back?” she asks.

He huffs, a twinkle in his eye. “Sure, when I don’t plan on walking back. Figured you’d rather hitch a ride than straddle a dead deer.”

She shudders, making him laugh as he kicks off his boots and setting them aside to dry from earlier. He doesn’t remove his clothes, just pulls a bar of soap from the saddlebags and asks if she minds if he doesn’t dry off. She herself finally admits internally that she feels grubby. She had washed and washed and washed, and eventually came to accept the grime was not going to wash off her. Too much dirt, too ingrained, too repeated to ever shed properly…

She follows him, still keeping her distance. If he notices, he doesn’t say anything, just keeps scrubbing suds under his nails, over his forearms, into every fibre of his shirt. When she finally feels brave enough to speak up, she takes a deep breath, and on a whim decides to splash him.

He turns around, frowning, before picking up on the giggles and grinning himself. His arms are stronger, thicker, longer - the retaliation engulfs her with a responding tidal wave that leaves her gasping for air. In the small glimpse she makes of him, she notes the guilt and the apology on his lips as he believes himself having gone too far, but she’s too quick. She pushes him in the chest and tries to swim away as quick as she can, squealing the whole way.

Their laughter disturbs the birds in the branches, and they take flight, not that either of them notice. They play until the sun lowers to kiss the leaves around them. They share the bar of soap, and Tilly takes refuge in his disinterest. He lets her wash. She lets him wash. Both of them keep their distance when appropriate.

“Perhaps we oughta ride back in the morning,” Arthur muses when he notices how much she is shivering. "It's only gonna get colder, and at least we've got a fire going here."

“I don’t mind making the ride.”

He chuckles, eyes soft. “Miss Tilly. You’re dead on your feet, and sure as hell will be dead in the saddle. I can fall asleep just about anywhere if you’re alright with the tent and bedroll? Hell, it’d make a nice change to waking up to Susan and Dutch arguing, huh?”

“You ain’t wrong...” She is still hesitating. Arthur tried to shake the thought of what she must have been through and instead tells himself that it's standard practice to be wary of new folk. She could feel safe in camp because there were more people to keep tabs on one another. Out here, it was just him, her and the stars, and since when did the stars ever do anything to help?

“Listen. Choice is yours. I’ll ride through the night if that’s what you want, but I promise you’re safe with me.” He checks the barrel of his revolver, counting the six bullets nestled inside before snapping it in place and holding it out by the barrel. “Here. I can’t give you both in case we get jumped, but I’ll stow the long arms on Wyn if that makes it easier.”

She sits in silence for a long while before nodding slowly.

“Alright then. You get to eating your fill while I set you up for the night.”

*****

She wakes up, well rested and warm. She takes a few minutes to lay there, watching the shadows of the flies buzzing on the canvas above before finally crawling out in search of fresh air.

Owain is grazing not so far away, but Arthur is nowhere to be seen. His long arms are still stashed, the fire just ash now. Panic rises in her throat, torn between the fear of him being jumped and him abandoning her willingly.

She frets, pacing, checking their reserves. No, she has no clue where the hell he has taken her so she doesn’t know where to even start on trying to return to Mr Matthews and Mr Van der Linde. She curses him for being so spoilt as to be threatened by a little girl.

“Mornin’, Miss Jackson.” She flinches, immediately retreating from the greeting. Arthur is frowning under the brim of his hat as he dismounts the small bay coloured horse. “Everythin’ alright?”

“I thought you left me,” she admits, still choked up. He seems surprised, then bashful, trying to hide it by patting the neck of the horse he has with him.

“Naw. There was a herd moving through here early this morning and I remembered about you wantin’ a horse of your own.” He gives her an awkward nod. “Whaddaya reckon? She rides pretty nice. One of the smaller one, but she seems friendly enough. If you wanna keep her, I’ll set you up on mine until we can get this one broke in properly if tha’s alright?”

“Sure.”

“Awesome.” He begins to pack their things away, tacking Owain and bribing both steads with sugar cubes.

“We going hunting again?”

Arthur puts away the brush and pats his horse’s neck. “Naw. Today we’re headed to Greyhound Station.”

“Why?”

“Boring stuff. Check to see if anyone’s tried to write us. Check for bounties and that we ain’t most of ‘em. See if there’s any jobs goin’, keep an ear to the ground in case there’s money to be had. You know, standard outlaw stuff.”

“I ain’t ever been on a wanted poster yet,” she muses. “That I know of anyhow. Knowing the Foreman Brothers, they’ll be tryin’ to frame me for something.”

“The Foreman Brothers?”

“The… gang. The ones I was with when Dutch and Hosea found me.” Arthur hums in acknowledgement but doesn’t press it. It’s like he knows it’s a big bruise still there after months of riding with them. “They was wrestlin’ to hang me or bury me alive. Never did find out which since I managed to wriggle off the wagon without them noticin’. So much for family.”

“Y’all were related?”

“Yeah.” She spits off the side. “Good riddance to ‘em.”

He hums. “If anybody tries to pull that with you again, you lemme know. I’ll get ‘em before they blink.” He rummages in his saddle bag and pulls out a glass bottle of clear liquid. She frowns as he takes a greedy few gulps before offering it to her.

“I ain’t much a fan of the bottle, Arthur.”

He throws her a look of befuddlement over his shoulder before understanding befalls him. “It weren’t my first choice, Miss Jackson, but I’ve yet to learn how best to store water if not in a bottle of some kind.”

“Water?”

“Water,” he repeats with a shake of his head. “Whiskey’s the other side if you want some.”

“I’m good for now, Mr Morgan,” she smiles, raising the bottle to her lips, squinting at the sunburned strip that’s the back of his neck. “Maybe some other time.”

#rdr2 reverse big bang #rdr2 #rdrbigbang #rdrreversebang2021 #rdr2 fanfic #rdr2 fic #tilly jackson #arthur morgan #sunspott

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four-loose-screws · 3 years

Text

FE8 Novelization Translation - Chapter 15, Section 2

If you would like to start from the beginning, read a missed part, etc., click here!

FE Game Script Translations - FE Novel Translations - Original FE Support Conversations

If you are interested in donating to support my work, please check out my Ko-fi here. Thank you!

———————————

I call this a “section” because it is not a separate part of the chapter in the book, but divided from the rest of the chapter by a scene break.

———————————

Chapter 15 - The Day the Empire Fell (con’t) The unthinkable happened in Port Taizel.

Myrrh disappeared.

Their difficult journey to the capital had Ephraim's head full, so much so that he even forgot to keep an eye on her. When he thought about it after the fact, she looked like she had been trying to tell him something multiple times, but he didn’t listen. There was too much on his mind, and though he didn’t mean to, he ended up putting off whatever she needed from him.

What could she have been trying to say? For what reason would she leave without saying anything? Could she have run out of patience with him and left when he didn’t listen to her…?

‘No, Myrrh isn’t like that.’ Ephraim reassured himself, but his worrying only continued to worsen. He felt sorry for being so indifferent to what she wanted to say, but no matter how much he regretted what he had done, it was too late. With things as they were now, he had to search for her.

With eyewitness testimony from one of the locals that said they'd seen Myrrh wandering east, Ephraim’s army headed east. The person said that she'd been seen walking alone, so it seemed she had not been captured by bad people again, but left of her own free will. However, though they were gaining more information, they still didn’t know anything about the reason why she left.

Along the way, every time they passed through a town or village, they explained to the locals what Myrrh looked like, and gathered eyewitness accounts.

She had originally run off on her own, but at some point, seemed to have joined up with another person.

“A girl with indigo hair? Yeah, she was with Lady Selena.”

“...Selena, you said?” Ephraim’s face became pale. Did this mean that Myrrh had been taken by an imperial general? What could an imperial general want with her?

“Yeah, you know her, right? She’s called General Selena, the Fluorspar, and is a beautiful, strong, and charming woman. Though I wonder why such a beautiful person would become a general. I think it’s a waste…” Said a villager they passed by on the street, becoming completely distracted from Ephraim’s original question.

“Why was Lady Selena in this village?”

“She was shopping. A gemstone being sold here caught her eye, and she left the capital just to buy it.”

“A gemstone?”

“I don’t know what it’s called, but it sure was pretty. It was too expensive to sell right away, but word of it got to the capital, I suppose. Lady Selena is a soldier, but she’s still a woman. She likes gemstones, so she came here to buy it.”

The villager said with a laugh, but Ephraim couldn’t imagine that this was the sort of time for a soldier to leave the capital for personal reasons like a shopping trip. This stone could not be any ordinary gemstone.

“So then what did General Selena and the girl do…?”

“Hm, this happened right after Lady Selena bought the gemstone. The indigo haired girl came up to Lady Selena and started talking to her about something. She’s not from this village. In fact, I’ve never seen her around here before at all. I don’t know what they were talking about, but they had really serious looks on their faces. In the end, Lady Selena took the girl with her and left the village. I don’t know anything about what they did after that.”

Based on this story, Ephraim was able to piece together a conclusion.

The “gemstone” was likely the dragonstone that Myrrh was searching for. It was a precious gem to those of the dragon tribe, but Myrrh’s was stolen on her journey, and she’d lost all knowledge of its whereabouts. A merchant, not knowing just how valuable dragonstones are, sold it as a gemstone.

Meanwhile, General Selena had been called back immediately from Bethroen to the capital.

That was probably because she’d received the information that the dragonstone was being sold as a gemstone. The Sacred Stones, the Dark Stone, and now a dragonstone… the emperor seemed to be drawn to stones with great power hidden within them.

When they had arrived at Port Taizel, Myrrh had likely already sensed that her dragonstone was nearby. She'd tried to tell Ephraim that, but he didn’t listen to her, so she had no other option than to go out alone. That led her to this village, where she met Selena just after Selena obtained the dragonstone, and decided to talk to her...

The details were all consistent with each other. The problem was why Selena had taken Myrrh with her… and where they were now.

He explained the situation to Duessel, who crossed his arms and started to think.

“I can’t imagine that she would harm a civilian. Her demeanor and way of speaking are rough, but she has a kind heart. She probably wouldn’t do anything violent.”

“Then why would she take Myrrh with her? She doesn’t intend to hand Myrrh over to the emperor, does she? If anything happened to her, I....” Ephraim couldn’t calm down, and paced around as he shouted. This was all happening all because he hadn’t listened to her… That regret was still torturing him. “We may have to fight General Selena. General Duessel, it may be difficult for you to do that. Please stand down this time. You do not have to participate in the battle.”

“What are you saying? I have dedicated myself to your service. Whoever your enemies may be, I will fight them. Even if my opponent is Selena, I will not hesitate.” His tone was firm. He was probably thinking that if he hesitated, then it would dull Ephraim's will to fight as well… so he wanted to go out of his way to make his thoughts clear.

Ephraim was thankful for his teacher's thoughtfulness.

The next day, Ephraim’s army finally found Myrrh. Or rather, she came back on her own.

She appeared from within a forest that followed along the main road. When Ephraim saw her, he rushed over to her, and she looked up at him with large tears in her eyes.

“Ephraim…”

“Myrrh! You’re alright!”

“I’m sorry, Ephraim! All I ever do is cause trouble for you… I didn’t want to make you hate me again… but I still left anyway…”

“What are you talking about? You could never make me hate you or anything of the sort. I’m the one who was in the wrong. I’m sorry for not paying attention to you.”

However, they had no time for a joyous reunion.

A flustered soldier ran up to him to report, “Lord Ephraim! The Grado Army is coming this way! Their commanding officer is an imperial general, Selena the Fluorspar!”

“Let’s go! All units, get into battle positions!”

Ephraim tried to grab his weapon, but Myrrh grabbed his clothes tightly and pleaded, “Please wait, Ephraim! Whatever it takes, don’t fight her! She’s not a bad person!”

“Who? You mean General Selena?”

“Yes. She helped me run away. And told me to return to you…”

“But she took you away. Even if you say now that she told you to run away…”

“You’re wrong! She listened to what I had to say. She loves the emperor… and is suffering greatly. Please don’t fight her! Please…” Myrrh was always so quiet that this was the first time she’d ever shown any emotion like this.

Ephraim was taken aback by it, but he nodded. “I understand. I’ll do everything I can to try and persuade her.”

“Thank you, Ephraim…”

From what Duessel and Myrrh had said, General Selena didn’t seem to be a bad person. There was a very good chance that they could talk things through.

Ephraim was optimistic, but the expression on Duessel’s face was grim.

When he asked why, Duessel said with a pained look on his face, “Selena has a very pure and genuine personality. Her loyalty to His Majesty is steadfast. No matter how unreasonable the order, if it is what he wishes, she would happily dirty her own hands… That’s just the kind of person she is. I don’t believe that she will lend an ear to your plea.”

“Even if you did your very best to persuade her?”

“I am a traitor. She is the person who first declared that I should be executed. She is probably still suspicious of me.”

“So that means…”

“Yes. It is unlikely that we will be able to avoid fighting her.”

Still, Ephraim did not give up hope. He wanted to grant Myrrh her wish.

Selena’s army was in battle position in a marsh. Ephraim’s army had to trudge through sopping wet mud as they marched onwards.

He stayed away from the oncoming Grado soldiers as much as he possibly could, and avoided fighting as he searched for Selena. She was deep within the center of the marsh, riding atop a white horse and surrounded by her soldiers.

Ephraim continued to dodge the Grado soldiers, and approached Selena.

Selena also noticed him, ordered her soldiers not to fight, then neared him.

He’d heard that she was beautiful, but he was surprised at just how true was. Although her appearance was plain in her soldier's uniform, she couldn’t help drawing in the fascination of those around her. Her glittering eyes were befitting of one called “Fluorspar.”

“Are you General Selena?" Ephraim asked.

Selena nodded and answered, "I am indeed. And you are Prince Ephraim, correct?"

"Yes. I'd like to talk to you.” Ephraim put his weapon behind his back to show that he had no intention of fighting.

Selena's soldiers broke out in a commotion, but Selena stopped them, then she looked at Ephraim. "What about?"

"I want you to withdraw your soldiers. A battle such as this one is meaningless. Emperor Vigarde is not in his right mind."

"...I know." Selena nodded, and Ephraim breathed a sigh of relief. However, her following words betrayed all of his hopes. "But I will not withdraw my soldiers."

"Why not?"

"I am an imperial soldier. His Majesty's orders are absolute."

With her unshakeable words, Ephraim was the one to flinch.

Was she some sort of fanatic? No, he saw none of that distinctive insanity in her quiet eyes.

"How foolish… you know the emperor has descended into madness, yet you still swear your loyalty to him even now?"

"A noble like you could never understand. To us knights, this is our way of life."

"General Deussel deliberately disobeyed Emperor Vigarde. You may think of him as a traitor, but he chose that path because of his sincerity as a knight."

"I know that. I was wrong to call him a traitor. He loves Grado from the very bottom of his heart, and grieves his emperor's fate. He is truly a loyal retainer."

"If you know that much, then why wouldn't you do the same?"

"I am different from General Deussel. I respect his way of life, but I can only choose my way of life."

"You are a fool!" He shouted at her.

Selena nodded gently. "You are right. I agree with you one hundred times over."

"Surrender, Selena! I don't want to have to defeat you!"

"You, defeat me? Don't patronize me, Prince Ephraim. I have no intention of dying here. Now ready your weapon!"

It was already impossible to persuade her any further. Ephraim drew his lance back out from behind him.

Selena swiftly chanted a spell. Ephraim jumped the moment before fire shot from her fingertip, and avoided the attack.

The Grado soldiers initiated their own attacks to guard Selena. The Frelian soldiers standing behind Ephraim also readied their weapons and rushed forward.

Selena expertly steered her horse while also launching attack spells one after the other. Her speed and power amazed Ephraim.

The power that had elevated her to the title of imperial general at such a young age was of course not just for show. To Ephraim, who knew nothing about magic, taking just one good hit would very likely be fatal.

Ephraim cut down the oncoming Grado soldiers as he avoided Selena's spells. He trudged through the mud-soaked earth, and was soon covered in mud himself.

He was overcome by intense anger so great that he wanted to scream. He did not want to kill a person like Selena. But if he did not kill her, then he would be killed.

His anger gave him strength. He stabbed each Grado soldier that came at him at random intervals, then charged at Selena. The Grado soldiers did not fear his great force, but still slowly backed away. He did not slow down.

"Lord Ephraim…!" His attacks looked so reckless that his allies started to yell at him.

Selena stared down at him from atop her horse with her eyes open as wide as they could be.

He glared at her beautiful face and screamed, "You're such a fool… You're an absolute idiot!"

The moment Ephraim leapt into the air off the muddy ground, a ball of orange fire shot from Selena’s fingertip.

Ephraim did not dodge it. That had never been his intention.

His lance stabbed deep into her side. Her body slumped over, and she fell from her horse.

The soldiers all stopped moving. Ephraim was still breathing heavily when he looked down at Selena. She was trying to get up, but no longer had the strength to do so.

When she lost her remaining strength in her arms and back, the pained expression disappeared from her face. In its place, for the first time since Ephraim had seen her, she was calm.

Her lips moved slightly, so he bent down to try and hear her final words.

"I'm so tired…" she whispered. Her eyes slowly closed, and she stopped moving.

"The enemy general has fallen! My army is the victor!"

Ephraim stood up and declared as loudly as he could, causing the panicking Grado soldiers to drop their weapons one after the other. Some of the Grado soldiers fled, but most of them surrendered to Ephraim’s army.

"Please let us heal you, Lord Ephraim!"

The healers called out to him, and Ephraim finally noticed his wounds. The stress he’d been experiencing mentally had kept him from feeling the physical pain, but Selena's fire magic had covered half of his body with serious burns.

Before retiring to his tent, he ordered his soldiers to search Selena’s belongings. They quickly found the stone that she had gone to the village to buy.

If one was told that it was a gemstone, then they could certainly see it. It emitted a strange light, and was very beautiful. Ephraim put it in his breast pocket.

ー

Duessel and Myrrh came to visit Ephraim while he was in the healing tent. It was hard for him to face her.

However, he couldn’t look away. Ephraim pulled the dragonstone out of his pocket, and handed it to Myrrh. “This is your stone, isn’t it?”

Myrrh wrapped her hands around it and took it. “...Yes. It is my stolen dragonstone. But…” Her large eyes were filled with tears. “I am sad. I have gotten back my precious dragonstone, and yet… I am so very, very sad.”

“I’m sorry, Myrrh. I wanted to persuade her somehow, but I couldn’t do it. I… had no choice but to defeat her.”

“I understand. It wasn’t your fault. It is just sad. Even though she was such a good person… Even though she looked so happy when she talked about the emperor…”

Ephraim closed his eyes. The image of Selena, the woman who was still proud to be the emperor's general despite knowing full well of his insanity, was burned into his mind.

“Why can’t it just be bad people, but also good people who must fight? Why can’t we end this without any good people dying?”

Ephraim closed his eyes and shook his head. “I don’t know why either, Myrrh. But I’m going to the capital to search for answers. That is where everything will be made clear.” Ephraim shifted his gaze over towards Duessel, who was standing quietly behind Myrrh. “General Deussel, Selena said that she was wrong to accuse you of being a traitor. She fully understood your true intentions.”

Those words only made Duessel’s expression grow darker. “....When Glen died, I turned my back against the emperor… So she had to bear the weight of all of that all by herself. The only people left around His Majesty now are wicked men like Riev and Valter. Amid all of that, she fought to try and defend her loyalty to His majesty. She couldn’t help having regrets, but… she did not pity herself.”

“I’m so tired…” Ephraim remembered her final words.

Her voice had sounded like all of the life had been sucked out her, but he thought that he had seen peace in her expression. Perhaps it had been the relief of finally being freed from her grueling fight?

Ephraim stood up. Thanks to the diligent care of the healers, he hardly felt the pain of his burns at all any more. “I don’t understand. She was a smart person. She saw that the emperor was not in his right mind. Then why did she continue to serve the emperor, despite that? Surely she should have known that was not the right path…”

“Lord Ephraim. I was born into a family of knights that has served at the capital for generations. I wanted for nothing, and studied combat under a great teacher since I was young. It was obvious that I would be inducted into the knights.”

Ephraim looked straight at Duessel, wondering what he was telling this story for.

“But Selena was different. She was born in a poor, deserted village. She wasn't one to talk about it much, but I heard rumors. The area was always plagued by famine, and they had to sell off their young children just to survive… That is the kind of village I was told it was."

Myrrh timidly opened her mouth. "It's true. She told me about it as well. When I told her about the terrifying powers of the dark stone, she looked very sad… She told me why she continued to trust the emperor. She said that when she was poor, didn't have anything to eat, and everyone was starving and freezing, he sent food…"

Duessel nodded. “I remember that period very well. One year, a terrible cold front assaulted all of Grado, leaving the remote villages in a state of ruin. And the worst among them all was Selena’s birthplace. His Majesty immediately decided to rush to their aid. Most of his vassals spoke out against using any funding for such a reason. It is embarrassing to admit it, but the nobles and officers, living carefree lives in the capital, did not care what happened to the people living in those regions. They would rather thousands of people starve to death if the opposite meant cutting into their incomes and making them do more work… There were many who thought like that. His Majesty rebuked those rotten nobles and had large shipments of food and clothing sent to the remote villages. I served at his side, so I know this very well. His Majesty… what was happening made him cry.”

Ephraim was reminded of Lyon. Knowing that the ordinary citizens suffered and lived in poverty also pained him. That kindness was likely a trait he had inherited from his father. “So Selena became a knight to repay that favor…?”

“That is correct. For a starving, freezing young child who could only wait for death to come for her, nothing could have made her happier than the food sent from the capital… Selena came to the capital only wanting to serve His Majesty, and knocked on the door of the knights’ barracks. When I first met her, she was a raggedy, thin little girl. Some of the knights even laughed at her. They said this child, who was so poor she couldn’t even buy a decent outfit, must be out of her mind. However, I thought she had promise. There was no one else as passionate and pure in their loyalty, even among the knights. She stood out above all others, and gained His Majesty’s trust. Some were envious that she became a general so young, but I thought she was a perfect fit for the promotion. There was no one better to be Grado's… no, His Majesty’s knight." Duessel closed his eyes to hold back his tears.

The emperor, compassionate towards his citizens, who would cry at just the thought of their suffering, had completely and suddenly changed on that fateful day into a cruel invader. Ephraim could only imagine the extent of Selena’s despair and suffering.

“I’m so tired...” It would be nearly impossible for Ephraim to ever erase her final words from his memory in his entire life.

“And it’s all because of the Dark Stone… right? Does this Dark Stone that Lyon created really possess such terrifying power?” Ephraim looked at Myrrh. “Is there any way for us to return the emperor to who he once was? If we destroy the Dark Stone, will the evil controlling him disappear? He'll return to normal, won't he?"

“That… cannot be done.” Myrrh shook her head with a sunken look on her face. “The ominous energy does not simply control a person. It completely changes them. It is as if the stone breaks who they once were, and plants a new personality within them…”

“Are you saying that in other words, Emperor Vigarde’s kind personality is already completely destroyed?” Ephraim whispered with a sigh.

This meant that Selena had died for an emperor who had become an entirely different person on the inside, even though he still looked the same as always on the outside. There was nothing in the world more pitiable.

“Anyway, we will hurry to the capital, and figure out a way to stop Emperor Vigarde’s tyranny. We cannot allow anyone else to become a victim to the Dark Stone.” Ephraim declared, and walked out of the tent.

#fire emblem #fe #fe8 #sacred stones #eirika #gba #game boy advance #japan #japanese #translation #light novel #fe8 novelization translation

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seasonsofeverlark · 4 years

Text

What's Your Favorite Scary Movie?

Author: @juxtaposie

Prompt: Everlark as kids on Halloween [submitted by @lovely-tothe-bone]

Rating: T for described violence in a movie, but nothing worse than the books

Summary: Katniss doesn’t want to dress up; she doesn’t want to go to the party; she doesn’t want to watch a scary movie.

And she definitely doesn’t care if Peeta is there.

Author’s Note: This is technically my first foray into Everlark, though not into HG. Many thanks to @mandelion82 for being my point person, @eiramrelyat for keeping me on schedule, and @jroseley for proofread!

____________

Katniss didn’t like to be bothered during the lunch period, and that was precisely why Madge Undersee was the perfect companion. The other girls in their grade liked to call Madge an ice queen behind her back and say things about how she was spoiled and stuck-up, but Katniss knew that was just gossip. There was nothing stuck-up about Madge, even though she was the mayor’s daughter. She was just quiet, studious, and a little shy.

She was also a good friend - the only friend Katniss had, really, even if all they ever did was eat lunch together. She didn’t ask questions, or pry, and only ever wanted to talk about school, and that was just fine with Katniss.

Delly Cartright, one grade ahead of them, was the exact opposite of Madge, and it was hard for Katniss not to hold it against her. There was nothing wrong with Delly; she was friendly, and very loud, with a wide smile that lit up her otherwise plain face, but she was also nosy in a harmless sort of way that set Katniss’ teeth on edge.

And she was currently winding her way through the cafeteria, handing out fliers.

“She’s coming over here,” Madge muttered, and Katniss groaned around her bite of dry baloney sandwich.

“Hey!” Delly said brightly, shoving a flier under Katniss’ nose and shaking it until she took it. “It sucks that Halloween is on a Tuesday this year, so my parents said I could have a party! We’ll have candy, and bobbing for apples, and my dad’s even building a haunted house in the shed! You have to come!”

Surveying the flier, Katniss sighed a little in relief. The party was on Saturday. “I can’t,” she said, feigning a sadness she didn’t really feel. “I have to watch my sister. Sorry.”

“Oh that’s okay,” Delly chirped, shoving the flier back at her when Katniss tried to return it. “My little brother is having friends over too. Just bring her! Madge?”

Madge met Katniss’ eye across the table, the corner of her mouth quirking up in an expression that was almost a smile.

“Sure,” Madge said, folding the flier and sticking it into her binder. “Sounds fun.”

Delly beamed. “Great! Oh, and there’s gonna be a costume contest so dress to impress!”

Then she was gone, her blonde pigtails trailing behind her as she all but skipped to the next table.

“Why are you making that face?” Madge asked when Delly was out of earshot. “It’ll be fun. Probably.”

But Katniss wasn’t really listening, because two tables over Delly was handing a flier to Peeta Mellark.

Katniss could only see the back of his head, but she would have known it anywhere - she’d only been staring at it the last two years, ever since the last (and only) time they’d ever spoken, that cold winter morning in the alley behind the bakery. He’d cut his hair short when school had started, but it had grown out so much it almost touched his collar and curled in ringlets around his ears.

“I bet Peeta will be there,” Madge said, startling Katniss out of her unscheduled jaunt down memory lane.

Katniss took an angry bite of her sandwich. “What do I care if Peeta will be there?” she mumbled as she chewed.

Madge just shrugged. “I mean you’re always staring at him.”

“No I’m not!” Katniss snapped.

“Whatever you say,” Madge placated, turning her attention back to the book she’d been reading before Delly had approached them.

Katniss didn’t reply, and she was grateful when Madge seemed to drop the subject. The last thing she wanted to do was discuss the complicated and very alien feelings Peeta had been inspiring in her of late.

“I mean it’s fine,” Madge said after a protracted silence. “He’s cute. And he’s nice. A lot nicer than the other boys in our class.”

There was movement over Madge’s shoulder, a flash of blue eyes and bouncing blonde curls, but by the time Katniss had registered it Peeta had turned back around in his seat. All she could do was stare at the back of his head, and wonder what he’d been looking at - if he’d been looking at her.

Madge seemed to take her silence as agreement, and they finished their lunch in peace

***

That Saturday evening, standing in front of the mirror in the bathroom she shared with Prim, Katniss couldn’t help feeling like the whole evening was a bad idea. She didn’t like crowds, she definitely didn’t like parties, and she’d felt too old for Halloween since her dad had died. She felt silly and childish, even in her simple black dress, and she knew that feeling would only be magnified by the pointed black hat sitting in the counter beside the sink.

Costumes were stupid. Halloween was stupid.

With a deeply unhappy sigh, she snatched the hat off the counter and turned out the light.

Downstairs, Prim was sitting on the kitchen table while their Uncle’s girlfriend finished applying rhinestone stickers around her eyes.

“Katniss, sweetie, are you sure I can’t help you with your makeup?” Effie asked as she pressed another rhinestone to the corner of Prim’s left eye.

“Yes,” Katniss answered sharply, annoyed at having to answer the same question for what felt like the millionth time. Across the room Haymitch cleared his throat, and she added, “I’m fine, thanks,” a little more gently. She didn’t dislike the woman, exactly, but Effie was a busybody of the highest order and Katniss sometimes felt like she couldn’t take a breath without Effie asking her about the air quality on her side of the room.

Prim enjoyed her, though. It was obvious to Katniss that her sister missed their mother, and even if she didn’t feel the same way she could understand why Prim would be happy to have another woman doting on her. That that woman was Effie didn’t seem to bother Prim in the least.

“C’mere a second, kid,” Haymitch said, nodding toward the foyer. “I wanna talk to you.”

Katniss followed him, feeling surly, and stared at her shoes - new chucks, no holes in the toes, soles still attached - while Haymitch looked at her with his arms crossed.

“You look like you’re going to a funeral,” he said finally. Katniss spread the skirt of her dress out as if to say, Well duh, but Haymitch sighed and continued, “Not the costume. Costume’s pretty cute, actually. I meant your face. You know you don’t have to go just because someone invited you.”

“Prim’s excited,” she replied, only realizing she’d said the wrong thing when Haymitch started rubbing his forehead like he had a headache and looking at her like he could see right into her soul.

This was the thing Katniss hated about living with her Uncle Haymicth - though he wasn’t her uncle, or even blood exactly, no matter if Katniss had gotten so used to Prim pretending that she’d started doing it herself. He was their dad’s second cousin; they’d shared the same grandmother and spent the same childhood together running wild through the forests of the Allegheny Mountains. That was all Katniss had known about him as a small child, and it wasn’t until she got older that she’d picked up the rest of the gossip from neighbors - that the same accident that killed his family had also made him rich, and that he’d wasted a good chunk of that change trying to drown himself in drink.

He hadn’t looked good at the funeral, but he’d spent hours talking with their mother, and a few months later she’d sent the girls to live with him - and not in his crummy, run-down apartment over the local bar, but in a refurbished bungalow situated neatly between two other refurbished bungalows on a wide, shady street where the trees grew taller than the houses. It turned out that chunk of change was considerably larger than most people knew.

He’d even stopped drinking, as far as Katniss could tell, or at least that was the excuse he always gave the girls for his terrible moods.

The fact that he seemed to understand her better than even her own father ever had was both a blessing and a curse. She didn’t always have to say what she was thinking, and he didn’t let Effie badger her too much, but it also meant he wouldn’t “let her bullshit slide”, as he liked to put it when they butted heads - which was frequently.

“Prim’s old enough to go to a party on her own,” he said after a long silence. “She’s more than old enough.”

Katniss couldn’t keep herself from frowning. “She’s only ten.”

“Yeah,” Haymitch said with a sharp laugh. “Almost as old as you were when you came to live with me. Plenty old enough.”

“I wanna go,” Katniss insisted, forcing a smile onto her face and praying Haymitch wouldn’t see through it.

It didn’t work, of course. She could tell by the way Haymitch was shaking his head at her. “All right, sweetheart” he said, lifting his hands in surrender. “It’s your Saturday night, you can do whatever you want with it.”

“I wanna go,” she repeated. “My friends will be there.”

“You have friends now?” Haymitch teased. Dropping an arm around her shoulders, he steered her back toward the kitchen. “I suppose we wouldn’t want to jeopardize that.”

“What’s jeopardize mean?” Prim asked from where she was still sitting on the table.

“To put in danger,” Effie offered before announcing, “All done!”

Prim hopped off the table and struck a pose, bowing when Katniss applauded politely.

“Tell me one more time what you are?” Haymitch asked, taking a seat at the table and dragging Effie toward him with an arm around her waist.

“A unicorn surgeon!” Prim exclaimed, turning in a circle to show off her costume, which was a white leotard under child-sized scrubs, a face mask, and a felt hood in the shape of a horse’s head, with the horn protruding through the surgeon’s cap holding back a mane of rainbow yarn. A rainbow yarn tail had been pinned to the back of her scrubs, and rainbow rhinestones rimmed her big, blue eyes.

“Is that a surgeon for unicorns, or a surgeon… unicorn?” Haymitch asked.

“The second one,” Prim said. “Are we ready to go?”

“Oh!” Effie exclaimed, clapping her hands together and turning to Katniss. “One more thing. I have something for you, darling. Now I know you said you didn’t need anything, but I just thought you could use a little bit of color. Close your eyes and let me help you with this, and if you don’t like it we’ll just take it right off!”

Katniss felt her hackles raise as Effie pulled away from Haymitch and approached her with a black plastic bag. She was just about to say, ‘No, thank you,’ when Haymitch nudged her foot with his own and gave her a look that clearly said, Be nice.

So Katniss said, “Okay,” and closed her eyes.

Effie directed her to hold her arms out at her sides, and tied something around her waist before pinning something to her hat, then she turned Katniss around and guided her to the mirror hanging in the hallway before announcing, “Open your eyes!”

Katniss had to applaud Effie for her restraint. All she’d done was tie an orange sash around Katniss’ waist and pin a large orange flower to the side of her hat. The shade of the sash was not the bright, garish orange of the season, but a soft, muted color. It was simple, almost understated, but it did perk up her costume and add an air of festivity that had been lacking. Against her will, Katniss found herself smiling.

“I knew you’d like it,” Effie said when she saw Katniss smiling. “Orange looks so good with your skintone.”

“Let’s go!” Prim enthused, running into the hallway to grab her coat off the hooks by the door. “It’s almost six!”

“No such thing as fashionably late in middle school, I suppose,” Effie murmured as she helped Prim.

“Here,” Haymitch said, joining them in the foyer and shoving a $20 bill at Katniss. “Just in case.”

“It’s four blocks away,” Katniss said as she tucked the money into her shoe.

“Just in case,” Haymiucth said again as he handed her her coat.

“Call when you get there,” Effie reminded them as Katniss herded her sister out the door. “Have fun. Be good guests!”

Never in her life had anyone told Katniss to be a good guest, but she just said, “We will,” and took Prim’s hand to pull her down the front steps and out onto the sidewalk.

The air was crisp and chilly, and Prim skipped along beside Katniss as the girls hurried along.

“Haymitch is right,” Prim said as they crossed the street at the end of the block. “You don’t have to go if you don’t want to.”

“It’s not polite to eavesdrop,” Katniss replied.

Prim just laughed. “Okay, Effie.”

“I want to go,” Katniss insisted. “I just…”

“Don’t like parties?” Prim offered. “Or people?”

Katniss made a noise of protest. “I like people.”

“Like three people,” Prim allowed. “Maybe four, when you’re in a good mood. Is Madge gonna be there?”

“I think so,” Katniss answered.

“Gale?”

Gale Hawthorn, her best friend for all intents and purposes, had started high school that year. As a result, they’d seen even less of each other than usual. Gale still lived in the run-down part of town where Katniss and Prim had grown up, and while he maintained he didn’t hold her moving away against her, he didn’t often act like it.

“I don’t think so,” she said. “What would a high schooler want with a middle schooler’s Halloween party?”

“You’ll be there,” Prim said, and Katniss didn’t like that implication. Gale had been acting a little weird recently, but she’d chalked it up to high school stuff. “What about Peeta?”

The casual query almost gave Katniss whiplash. “What about Peeta?”

“Do you think he’ll be there?” Prim pressed, closing her mouth tightly in a way Katniss knew meant she was trying to keep a smile off her face.

“How should I know?” Katniss said sharply.

Prim laughed, and linked her arm through Katniss’. “Don’t get mad. I’m just asking.”

Katniss tried not to grimace. “I’m not mad. I just don’t know why you think I’d know.”

And she wasn’t mad, not really. She just didn’t understand why everyone was suddenly asking her about Peeta - she thought she’d been more careful than that.

The Cartwright’s lived just a few blocks away, and it didn’t take the sisters long to reach their house. When Katniss went to knock on the door it swung open under her fist and they could hear the sounds of screaming children before they’d even stepped inside!

“The Everdeen girls!” Mrs. Cartwright exclaimed, bustling them into the high-ceilinged entryway. There was clearly an adult party going on in the rooms behind her. “Prim, the littler kids are out in the backyard. They’ve got some games going, and there’s cider and snacks out there. Delly’s down in the basement, Katniss, with pizza and pop. There’s more food in the dining room if you get hungry, and if you need anything at all come find me or Mr. Cartwright, or one of the waiters. Have fun!”

Then before Katniss could ask where the basement door was she left just as quickly as she’d come, disappearing into the crowd of costumed adults, her Marie Antionette costume swishing behind her.

“How does she know our names?” Prim asked, but all Katniss could do was shrug.

They stood for awhile, each turning in a circle to take in the grand house around them. Katniss thought the house she and Prim lived in now was much too nice, but this house easily put it to shame.

“Okay, little duck,” Katniss said, but that was as far as she got before Prim’s hurried, “Bye!” stopped her in her tracks, and she watched helplessly as her sister all but abandoned her, leaving her standing in the entryway alone.

With a sigh, she set out to find the basement door.

It didn’t take long. She could feel the noise coming up from the basement through the soles of her shoes, and she followed the noise to a door in the kitchen. That door led to stairs, and those stairs led down into a large finished room that contained every kid her age that Katniss knew, and many she didn’t. The space was hot, dark, and crowded; all the regular light bulbs had been replaced with novelty light bulbs that glowed red and purple, and she could barely see the food table through the kids standing around it. At the other end of the basement was the biggest TV she’d ever seen.

“Katniss!” Delly called, somehow spotting her through the crowd from her place on the couch. “Come sit down! We just started the movie.”

“Um,” Katniss replied, conscious of the fact that almost everyone in the basement was now looking at her. “Okay.”

“Grab a drink!” Delly replied before twisting back around in her seat to face the TV.

Pouring herself a generous helping of coke into a red solo cup, she snatched up a cheesy breadstick as she walked by and then picked her way through her classmates who hadn’t been lucky enough to snag a seat on the couch and were sitting on the floor.

Madge waved at her from her spot near Delly’s feet, but Katniss’ eyes caught and held on the boy sitting beside Delly on the couch. Big blue eyes stared back at her out of the scariest, most life-like skeleton face she had ever seen.

“Hi Katniss,” Peeta said, giving her a small wave. “Do you want my seat?”

People were staring again, but then someone in a chair behind the couch shouted, “Down in front!” startling Katniss into replying with a short, sharp, “No.”

Maybe she’d only imagined the way Peeta’s face had fallen, but as she took a seat on the floor beside Madge she was hyperaware of him. The space was so crowded she had to sit up straight or risk resting her back against his legs. She swore she could feel the heat coming off him.

Beside her, Madge whispered, “Thanks for sitting with me. Hold my hand?”

“What?” katniss demanded. “Why?”

“I’m pretty sure Drew Barrymore is about to die.”

Panic squeezed Katniss’ heart as she grabbed Madge’s hand. “What?”

“We’re watching Scream,” Delly said excitedly, leaning over between Katniss and Madge. “Have you seen it?”

Katniss shook her head mutely. She’d never seen any horror movie.

“Good,” Delly said with glee.

Madge was right, as it turned out. Drew Barrymore did die, though Katniss didn’t see what happened, as she was hiding her eyes behind her free hand while Madge did her best to crush the bones in the other, and it only got worse from there. The tension in the room seemed to ratchet up several notches every time the creeper in the mask jumped out to terrorize Sydney Prescott, boys and girls alike screaming and jumping out of their seats. At one point Peeta all but kicked her in the back.

The room was too hot. Katniss was sweating under her dress, and every time Madge jumped coke sloshed out of Katniss’ cup and into her lap. Her chest felt tight, and she could hear her heartbeat pounding in her ears. Even with her eyes shut, she could hear the wet squelch of someone being stabbed, and her stomach turned when her mind couldn’t help supplying her images.

She felt so stupid when she started thinking of her dad, dead two years now in a mining accident. Was it hot and caustic when he died, people panicking as they pressed against him, screaming for daylight and fresh air? Were there emergency lights shining red, pushing back the edges of black, or had they lost power in the same explosion that had severed the cables of the car on the hoist? How many had survived that explosion? How many had waited in the darkness to die?

On the TV, Matthew Lillard pulled a man, bound and gagged, out of the basement. Sydney said, “Daddy!” her voice high and breathless, and Katniss couldn’t take it anymore.

She twisted in her seat, pulling her hand from Madge’s, and before she could think about it she barrelled through an opening on the couch, climbing over the back as fast as her shaking legs could carry her. Luckily she didn’t have to push past anybody - everyone was staring again, and they moved out of her way, leaving a clear path to the stairs, which she climbed two at a time until she was in the bright, fluorescent light of the kitchen.

But it wasn’t enough. The kitchen was still too warm, and now the adults were staring at her, some with concern but most with the quiet disdain the rich showed to ill-behaved children, and Katniss found herself bolting back the way she’d come, out into the entryway and through the front door-

-where she ran right into Peeta, who’d been sitting on the steps but had stood up when he’d heard her coming. His arms came up around her as they tumbled down the steps, landing in a tangle of arms and legs on the brick sidewalk. The only reason Peeta didn’t smack his head was because Katniss’ elbow cushioned the blow. Pain spiraled up her arm, radiating out from the place where his head rested in the crook of her elbow, but Peeta was already sitting up.

“Jeez,” he said, rubbing the back of his head. “Warn a guy, maybe?” He grabbed her shoulders, helping her to sit up, and asked, “Are you okay?”

This kindness was her breaking point. Horrified, she put her hands over her face and tried to quell the sudden rush of tears, but it was no use. She took a haggard breath, and then she was sobbing on the sidewalk, tears running down her face to drip off her chin and leave dark splotches on the skirt of her dress.

Peeta didn’t seem to know what to do. He patted her shoulder awkwardly and murmured something that was probably supposed to be soothing, but that only made her cry harder.

She hadn’t thought of her dad in months. She’d thought she was past the wild, unprovoked sobbing phase of grieving. Never mind that Halloween had been his favorite holiday, that he’d loved costumes and taking his girls trick-or-treating, that last year she’d been so sad she’d stayed in bed the whole day.

Two years was plenty of time to get over it.

Why couldn’t she just get over it?

“Here,” Peeta said, grasping her by the shoulders and helping her to stand. “Sit down.”

He disappeared into the house while Katniss tried to get her crying under control, and she’d all but managed it by the time he returned. He handed her a plastic cup filled to the brim with ice water, and a small stack of napkins.

“Thank you,” she said reflexively.

“It’s okay,” Peeta said, sitting down beside her. “I don’t like scary movies either.”

“It’s not the movie!” And it wasn’t the movie. The movie was stupid. She couldn’t care less about the movie. “There were too many people, and I just couldn’t stop thinking about my dad! The way he died - we didn’t even have a body to bury!”

She broke down again, horrified at the words coming out of her mouth. She’d never talked about her dad, not to anyone. Not to Prim or Haymitch, not to the counselor at school she’d seen once a week for an entire month. Now here she was, spewing her deepest fears to the one person she didn’t want looking too closely at her, because she knew if he did, he wouldn’t like what he saw. And then he’d stop looking altogether.

“I’m sorry,” he said, obviously at a loss. “That’s really awful.”

Then he did something Katniss wasn’t expecting, something she hadn’t even known she’d needed: he sat quietly beside her and let her cry. He didn’t try to touch her, or offer empty words, just waited with her until the tears subsided and her breath came a little easier.

Only once her grief subsided shame crept in to take its place. She couldn’t believe she’d cried in front of Peeta.

“What are you doing out here anyway?” she asked, trying to cover up her own discomfort.

“I told you,” he said. “I don’t like scary movies.”

“I don’t know many boys who would admit that,” she said, glancing at him through the veil of her wet eyelashes.

Peeta smiled a little. “I don’t care who knows. Anyway, it paid off today.”

“You’d rather watch me cry?” she asked, uncrumpling the napkins in her lap.

“Not the crying part.” Peeta bumped her shoulder gently with his own. “But watching you…”

She couldn’t help the laugh that jumped out of her mouth. “That’s weird.

She kept laughing while Peeta sputtered, “No, I - I didn’t mean that I watch you, I just look at you a lot-”

“That’s not better!” Katniss cut in, smiling now.

“Look!” Peeta said. “I’m not trying to be weird. I know you don’t like me very much, but-”

“I like you,” Katniss said before she could stop herself. Then, because she’d already let the cat out of the bag, “I, um. I like you a lot.”

She couldn’t look at him after that. He was blushing to the tips of his ears, but she turned her face to the darkening sky before she could see his expression, pretending to look at the stars that were just beginning to appear.

“No offense,” he said finally, “but.. You should be nicer to people you like.”

Her head snapped up, ready to glare - who berated a crying girl who’d just divulged a deep secret? - but Peeta was smiling teasingly at her, his teeth gleaming white against his black and gray face paint.

“I’m just not a very nice person,” she allowed, feeling warmth flow through her. What a turn the evening had taken.

“You can work on it,” he said playfully, nudging her shoulder again.

“I make no promises,” she replied, and in the silence that followed Katniss could feel an unfamiliar sort of tension strung between the two of them.

This was the most they’d talked in almost two years, ever since that frosty February morning behind the bakery. He’d been the one crying then, sitting on the back steps of the kitchen and holding the collar of his shirt to a split lip.

(If Haymitch’s drinking was the worst kept secret in town, Mrs. Mellark’s temper was the second worst kept secret.)

All she’d done was ask if he was okay, offer him the handkerchief from her coat pocket. That had made him laugh. “Who carries a handkerchief?” he’d asked, and she’d said, “My dad does,” because that was the only reason she herself had one.

“I think about that day a lot,” Peeta said suddenly, as if he could read her mind. “I thought maybe we’d be friends after that, but…:”

But then her dad had died, and her life as she’d known it had ended, and all those handkerchiefs were still at her mom’s house, stuffed in a dresser drawer full of things she hadn’t been able to look at in years.

Katniss didn’t want to think about that anymore.

“We can be friends now,” she offered.

“Okay,” Peeta agreed, grinning.

Katniss smiled back. “Okay.”

“Hey,” she said a few minutes later as they made their way back into the house. “If you don’t like scary movies, why did you come to the party?”

“Honestly?” Peeta asked, waiting for her to nod before continuing bashfully. “I hoped you would be here.”

“Oh.”

“Yeah,” he said awkwardly. “Also, I really like Halloween.”

Again, her mouth moved without her brain’s permission, and she said, “You should come trick-or-treating with me. Us. Me and my sister. If you want to. I know it’s sort of childish, but-”

“Awesome,” Peeta interrupted, and she was grateful because there was no telling what would have come out of her mouth if she’d been allowed to keep talking.

“Yeah,” she agreed quietly. “Awesome. Okay.”

“Do you wanna go back downstairs?” he asked. “I might go out back and see what the other kids are doing.”

“I’ll come with you,” Katniss said quickly, before her nerves could fail her. She didn’t know what was happening, but she knew she didn’t want it to end.

“Cool,” Peeta said, blushing again.

Katniss just smiled, and followed him out into the back yard.

#everlark #everlark fanfiction #autumn 2020 #autumn #juxtaposie #submission #prompt

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petri808 · 3 years

Text

Secret Santa fic for @fawn-eyed-girl enemies to lovers trope. Happy Holidays :)

Helping others was something Kagome Higurashi really enjoyed doing on her time off. There were so many people in need in their city with its large homeless population, it was an easy decision to join a local organization that did things for them. From food drives to holiday meals, they’d visit shelters, or scouted the back alleyways looking for anyone that was struggling. Especially the children, oh those broke her heart and fueled her desire to do what she could year after year. Of course, there were dangers when going into the seedier areas because they weren’t just full of homeless people. Drug users, thieves, gamblers, prostitution. Most steered clear of people like Kagome, but on occasion her pepper spray came into use.

On a summers night as she made her rounds near a bar, two drunkards with a loss of inhibition saw a pretty young woman and decided she’d make for a great way to end their evening festivities. Kagome tried to be nice at first, noting the heavy stench of liquor on their breaths. It wasn’t the first time she’d dealt with men like this. But talking was getting nowhere and before she could pull out the pepper spray from her pocket, one of them grabbed her from behind. If it had just been one man she could have fought back, but not two. Kagome screamed for help, praying that someone from the bar would hear her.

“Stop being such a bitch!” the man who held her growled as she fought fiercely in his hold.

The second male grabbed her face and squeezed her cheeks to silence her screaming. “Behave or this’ll only get worse.”

At that moment, a flash of white ripped the man facing her away and her eyes widened as the guy is flung against the building 10 feet away. Next, the one holding her suddenly let go and took off running, but he doesn’t get far and is tossed through the air into the darkness of the night. Kagome stood there frozen, heart racing, just watching her white-haired savior. She’d never seen him before in the area and assumed he must have been a bar patron.

“Are, you okay?” The white-haired male questioned Kagome.

“Yes. T-Thank you, sir.”

“Good, but what kind of stupid woman are you to be in this kind of area late at night alone?! You got a death wish?! If I hadn’t heard ya screamin’, they would’a made you their bitch!”

Kagome was taken aback by this strangers outburst. He wasn’t wrong, but did he have to be an asshole about it? “I’m not stupid okay!” She crossed her arms, “I’m here doing something important.”

“Keh! Picking up idiots at the bar? You don’t look like a pro.”

“Cause I’m not a pro! I help homeless people. And what do you do sir? Bouncer at the bar cause you have no education?”

“For your information I’m a thief. You know, like Robin Hood.”

“Pfft, I doubt that. You’re a common criminal who’s just as bad as the other nasty elements I deal with, so get off your high horse in berating me and look in a mirror!”

“Look wench,” the man towered over Kagome. “Criminal or not I coulda just let them kidnap you!”

But unafraid, Kagome stood on the balls of her feet and glared right back. “And I said thank you!”

The man seemed shocked by her attitude because he stepped back while still pointing a finger angrily. “J-Just, stop being so reckless!”

He then literally jumped away, scaling the building next to them. Well, at least it was over. Kagome huffed and let out a long sigh. Good riddance! Sure, she was happy to be okay but geez, he was so mean! She hoped to never see him again!

Over the course of the next two years, her wish never came true. Which confused Kagome. Before their first encounter, she’d never seen him in the area, but after, she couldn’t go a month without running into the guy. So, after six months had passed, she’d had a friend in the police department search their records to see if this stranger had a record. Kagome never got the man’s name, but his appearance was very distinctive. Long white hair and dog ears perched atop his head. Sure, enough he was in their system. Inuyasha Taisho. Mostly petty theft, nothing major, a few fights, but often ruled defensive. Okay so he didn’t start fights, but he ended them. Even more curious is who Inuyasha’s parents were. Kagome expected to learn he had grown up in a poor area or something that lead him into thievery, but it turned out the family was wealthy.

The rest of their encounters weren’t as explosive as the first one had been, but still as irritating as ever. Someone would start to harass Kagome and Inuyasha would scare them off. He’d snap at her for being reckless, then jump away as she screamed at his fleeting back. In a few strange incidences, Kagome suspected he was nearby because she’d hear footsteps following behind her and suddenly, they would disappear. She didn’t know if he was following her or had stopped someone else from doing so, but the alleyway would always be empty when she turned around.

Don’t get her wrong, she appreciated his protection. But what had she done to illicit it in the first place? Kagome suspected Inuyasha stole things out of boredom, so was watching her his new line of amusement? And fine, since he’d never done anything to hurt her, she could tolerate his knight in white armor routine if he wasn’t such an asshole when he spoke to her!

It was maybe around the first year mark that Kagome had noticed a change in some of the activities. The amount of people bothering her had slowed, left mostly to the more foolish elements who were hell bent on trouble. Certain crowds fully stayed clear of her, especially organized elements like gangs. She wondered if word was traveling through the underground to leave her alone or face his consequences. Kagome had to admit the thought brought a flutter to her chest. Because okay, he was an ornery asshole, but he must have a heart to protect a woman... not to mention he wasn’t exactly ugly. Quite the opposite in fact...

“Yeah Sango, I just got here,” Kagome balanced the phone on her shoulder as she turned her car off. “I’m gonna unload the gifts for the kids Christmas party. Oh... okay, see you soon.”

She clicked off her phone and got out of her car, popping open her trunk before pocketing the phone. There was a lot to do before the small holiday dinner they had prepared at the community center for homeless families in the area. Gifts for the children, food, a Santa Claus was coming, tables to set up, games and decorations. As she leaned into her trunk to grab gifts, Kagome ran down her to-do list in her head.

“Don’t move.”

A chill runs down her spine at the deep voice right behind her and something poking into her back. Kagome’s body stiffened up instantly as all the blood drained from her face.

“Don’t turn around, don’t make any sudden movements if you wanna live.” The hard object pressed deeper into her side. It was cold like the muzzle of a gun. “I know money is kept in the office to pay vendors, so you’re gonna get it for me,” the male voice instructed.

Kagome whimpered. “Okay, I’ll get you whatever you want, just please d-don’t hurt me.”

The man forced her away from her car towards the building, keeping constant pressure to remind her he could fire off his weapon at any time. This was the first time since the night she’d met Inuyasha that Kagome had felt true fear. So many things were running through her mind, her family, friends… What if this man killed her and left her for dead and the children saw it? Those kids had it hard enough. They don’t need to be traumatized further. All she could do was pray in her head to be spared.

She fumbled with the keys to open up the side door, but Kagome’s hands were shaking so badly, she drops them. “S-sorry!”

“Stupid bitch!”

“I’m sorry!” Kagome cried out and braced for some kind of backlash, but instead is greeted with the most demonic sounding growl she’d ever heard. In seconds, she’s knocked to the ground, pushed out of the way as white hair flies past her vision. It was Inuyasha fighting with the robber! She scrambled away, pressing herself against the building as the two men battled on the ground. Inuyasha was trying to wrestle the gun away and strike at the same time. But unlike the other attacks, this stranger was much, much stronger. She covered her ears to the growls and curses, the sounds of her own screams ringing in her ears but couldn’t tear her eyes away.

Until a loud boom, followed by a flash of light made Kagome’s scream cut off. She instantly shielded herself in reaction and all noise was replaced by a buzzing sound. The gun had gone off! Inuyasha let out a guttural roar at the impact, but it didn’t stop him, only made him ten times angrier. She watched in a mixture of horror and intrigue as his eyes turned red and purple markings appeared on his cheeks. He slashed deep into the strange males chest and abdomen, once... twice... not to stop but to kill. At the third raising of his arm, Kagome cried out, snapping Inuyasha back to reality. He stopped, hand raised, staring down at the man who was semi-conscious, and fatally injured without immediate medical treatment.

Kagome stumbled and rushed over to Inuyasha, ripping her jacket off in the meantime. “Oh, my god you’ve been shot!” Tears are clouded her vision and her hands shook, but she pressed her jacket against the wound in his stomach. “Keep the pressure,” she instructed while pulling her phone out. “I need to call 911, y-you need to get to a hospital.”

“Tch, don’t worry about me. I’ll live.”

His nonchalant response made her stop what she was doing and sent Kagome to such a level of anger, it took Inuyasha completely by surprise. The tears that clouded her vision now freely poured down as she rapidly punched his shoulder as hard as she could. “You asshole! You asshole! You asshole!! You’re not invincible! You just got shot because of me! Why?! Why would you go this far to protect me?!”

More sounds appeared around them. A car, running footsteps. Her friend Sango’s voice, talking, yelling about hurry and emergency. But all Kagome and Inuyasha could do was stare at each other oblivious to it, he wide-eyed, and her crying and shrieking.

“Tell me!” Kagome beat his chest one last time before slumping from exhaustion. “Why do you keep protecting me?”

Inuyasha turned his head away in embarrassment, cheeks the color of a tomato and ears pinned down. He mumbled, “Because I like you,” then braced himself to be cussed out and/or completely rejected.

What he gets in return is a snorting laughter from the woman who quickly grabbed his face and kissed him hard on the lips.

“You dumbass!” Kagome snapped at him through smiling tears. “All you had to do was talk nice to me and ask me out!”

“I’m not good with women, and besides I didn’t think you’d like a guy like me.”

Kagome is moved to the side when the EMT and police arrived to treat Inuyasha, but it doesn’t halt the conversation. “Well, you will need to behave yourself if you wanna go out with me, but that doesn’t mean I won’t give you a chance.”

Inuyashas ears perked back up. “You’re serious?!”

Kagome smiled. “I believe that everyone deserves a second chance, why else do you think I do the things I do?”

“So, when I get out of the hospital, can I take you out for dinner?”

“It’s a date.”

#inusecretsanta #inukag #inuyasha #inuyasha secret santa #Kagome higurashi #modern au #enemies to lovers #inukag fan fic #inukag fan fiction #in the spirit of christmas

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catscraftsandcommentary · 4 years

Text

thoughts on tiny!Steve/werewolf!Bucky shrunkyclunky AU

Because I’m too fucking lazy to actually type it into a proper fic and edit it and do all the fancy-ness that it would take to, y’know, make it a properly written story.

Vaguely fantasy/colonial setting, somewhere with lots of forests. Steve lives in a small town called - of course - Brooklyn, with best friend Peggy (local beauty and hell on heels.) Also with various non-friends Rumlow (sheriff), Rumlow’s minions, Alexander Pierce (mayor/governor of the area), and various townsfolk. Who often don’t like Steve because he’s constantly poor, constantly sick, constantly fighting and/or preaching about how their normal behavior is terrible.

Peggy thinks he’s great. Rumlow, who wants Peggy, despises him.

So at some point, Steve does something to piss Rumlow off more than usual. For a while, I thought about “stopping Rumlow when he won’t take ‘no’ from a girl at the local tavern and Steve reads him the riot act/starts a fight with him (these are pretty much the same thing, lbr.) BUT, sudden better idea, Rumlow comes up with some new, ridiculous plot to get Peggy to change her mind about him (never gonna happen, bro), but Steve ruins it somehow.

Like Rumlow commissions something for Peggy (clothing? art? jewelry?), but then extorts the artist to get out of paying, and Steve, who is PISSED, tells Peggy, who refuses the gift very publicly AND calls Rumlow a thief, extortionist, etc.

Hell. On. Heels.

So Rumlow immediately blames all his problems on Steve, and sentences him to banishment, permanent, on penalty of death. If he’s not out of town by sunrise, Rumlow will be glad to skip the wait.

Except oh yeah, Rumlow and the bros are going hunting tomorrow, leaving at dawn, so they’ll have to check in that Steve’s gone - and that Peggy isn’t hiding him - before dawn, so, y’know, he might want to get moving.

Cutscene to Peggy’s house, where she’s trying to talk Steve out of a suicidal second confrontation with Rumlow, or a more political confrontation through Pierce (who did, after all, appoint the bastard), or whatever other dumbass, noble idea he comes up with. She makes him pack a bag (or more likely, packs one for him), and tells him to go straight into the spooky old-growth forest a ways from town. Not the nice, civilized woods where Rumlow et al usually hunt, or along one of the roads to one of the other towns, but

“You head straight into the heart of that forest, Steve, because so help me, that is the only way you’ll be safe from him. And if you see any wolves - hell, if you hear any wolves - you say that Margaret Elizabeth sent you with a message for Natalia of the White Wolf’s pack. And that message is pay your debt.”

And no, she does not explain any of that to Steve before she bundles him out of her house and on the path to the forest road.

Oh, did I mention that, according to general knowledge in this AU, magic isn’t real, except for maybe small good luck charms and similar. Which plenty of people still scoff at. So telling Steve to talk to wolves is...suspicious.

Second aside, a while back, Peggy saved Natalia from an angry mob, took her family’s home, let her recover in her own bed, and then accidentally fell in love with her. Oops. Before, of course, Natalia had to return to her own pack. Now they have a secret on-again, off-again romance. (I haven’t thought about WHY Peggy didn’t just run away with Natalia immediately, other than it wouldn’t work for my story. Shh.) And of course, Natalia promised to someday do the same for Peggy.

Cutscene to forest, next morning!

Bucky and his wolf buddies are out cruising the forest, as you do, when they sense a Disturbance In the Forest *cough force cough* and decide to check it out. Upon smelling some humans they’ve collectively termed “those fuckers,” they decide to fulfill the threat they issued at their last meeting and be done with the problem.

Namely, they gave Rumlow and his crew the same ultimatum that he’d given Steve, except that Rumlow had a history of terrorizing and killing everything (and everyone) in the forest, whereas Steve just wanted to protect people.

They herd the horses and hunting dogs to the edge of the forest near the town, leave the bodies in a pile, and are ready to continue on, except...there’s still one human somewhere in the forest. And these shitty scumbags had been following their trail. Time to figure out what’s up.

They reach the edge of a clearing, and all the wolves sort of melt out of the undergrowth at the edges, while Bucky, in his big fucking white wolf form walks out to the edge, transforms, and then stalks out in his best Murder Strut (TM).

And yes, this is “built like a brick shithouse” Bucky from Civil War, and yes, he is entirely naked, and still covered in blood, so Steve’s brain goes immediately offline.

Steve backs up until his back hits a large tree, waving a large knife at this seriously threatening (but hot) impossible fucking being, because werewolves do not exist. Right?

Right?!?

Bucky just casually pins Steve’s arms over his head, disarms Steve and tosses the knife away (without even looking where he tosses it, which Steve finds inexplicably really hot), and leans in to smell him.

Now, when Bucky reached the clearing, he recognized from the scent that this was a potential mate for him - and possibly a very strong mate too. Mates, in their world, are more “you are compatible with this person” than “this is the only person you can ever love EVER” and the strength of the potential bond can vary as well. (Just like some relationships are stronger than others.) But basically, Bucky realizes that whoever’s in the clearing, they could be good together. They could be goddamn AMAZING. And yeah, he wants to smell some more of that.

Steve is...more than a little overwhelmed by suddenly having a giant wolf turn into the hottest man he’s ever seen, who’s now pinning him to a tree and huffing him, but he does manage “Natalia.”

At which Bucky choke-grunts. The fuck?

“I have a message for Natalia. In the white wolf’s pack. From Peg-from Margaret Elizabeth.”

Vaguely grumpy at not getting to nose up his mate, but also very curious as to where this is going, (because how does this tiny gorgeous human know his second or her mate? Yes, Natalia is Bucky’s second-in-command), Bucky finally lifts his head. “I am the White Wolf, and I speak for Natalia. What is her message?”

Steve stares up the man towering over him and snarls, “Pay. Your. Debt.”

Bucky grins, slow and wicked. “Gladly. But not here.” He steps back, lowing Steve’s arms, and then...somehow, suddenly, Steve’s arms are around his shoulders, his legs are lifted around his waist, and Bucky is cradling Steve to his chest while telling his pack “bring his things.”

And then everyone is racing through the forest, faster than Steve has ever seen anyone move before and what the fuck did Peggy get him into?

After an hour or two of running (being carried) through the forest, Steve finally puts his head down on White Wolf’s shoulder, tucks his face into his neck, and tries to rest. He didn’t get any sleep, he spent the whole night hiking through dark, unfamiliar forest, he’s pretty sure he can stop worrying about Rumlow hunting him down - in the most literal sense, yikes - he’s tired.

Also, being carried is kind of soothing. There’s a rhythm to it. And wolfman smells nice. Mm...

Bucky is perfectly happy to have his newly-found mate fall asleep in his arms, and he’s very loathe to put him down once the pack reaches their den. (I still can’t decide what I want the den complex to look like. A castle? A big house? A fort? Maybe it’s a cave system that has been smoothed out and built into like hobbit holes. Or the Holds and Weyrs from Pern.)

But he finally decides to lay Steve down, feather-soft, into his own bed and tuck him in warmly. After all, Natalia vowed to repay Margaret in kind for what she’d done to help her, and part of that had been sharing her bed. There are guest rooms, but they’re so far away. This is closer. Warmer. More convenient. Better for his mate. And he’ll explain everything as soon as he wakes.

Steve does wake up and demand all the details EVER, as well as actually meeting Natalia and hearing how she knows Peggy (to make sure that this “white wolf” isn’t making shit up). Bucky gladly complies. Natalia is more salty about it, but she deals.

Then Bucky commences doting on his new mate. While trying not to come on too strong. Mostly failing. He...may have left out the bit about being able to smell that they’re mates. So he’s just trying to keep Steve interested enough in werewolf life/forest life to stay there and not, say, ask to go back to the human world (or back to his town even) since Rumlow and his men are dead.

Steve finds everything fascinating, and since Bucky always responds immediately to his cues - verbal and nonverbal! - he doesn’t have a problem being wooed. He might even, actually, like to be wooed a bit faster. Or more carnally. Not that he knows how to hint that.

Peggy eventually shows up sometime and is cute with Natalia, aka Natasha.

Steve slowly settles into life as the Kept Human Boy of the most badass werewolf alpha ever, who loves his tiny feral little mate and WILL tear your throat out if you even look at him funny.

#stucky #steve/bucky #Steve Rogers #Bucky Barnes #shrinkyclinks #my writing #original post #fanfic #catscraftsandcommentary writes

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falcon-eye · 4 years

Text

So I’ve been writing on my phone and this one almost made me lose my shit because when initially hitting “copy” I accidentally hit “paste” and deleted the entire fucking thing. Thank GOD gmail keeps a copy of your notes. Holy shit.

Again made for @inexplicifics Accidental Warlord AU

Veko and Eloise’s domestic adventures continue! I’m so happy people actually like them! I’ve grown so close to them both. This will be part of their bigger story, because since I’ve been writing on my phone they’ve been really small and when I expound on them I want to add more details before all this, like about Veko and Hamra and all that. So consider these teasers I guess? That’s why the endings feel so abrupt. Or that’s the excuse I keep telling myself. I don’t know. But when I finally post everything it will be on AO3, and I may put these little ficlets on AO3 as a fic as well.

Anyway hope you enjoy this one! Veko and Eloise return!

——————

The next time Veko saw Eloise was just as bizarre as the first. Except this time, she ended up helping him as opposed to him saving her father again. It was, somehow, even more awkward.

It was a few weeks of a full year later. What was supposed to just be one kikimora turned into a while nest, and despite this, the alderman barely wanted to pay him what he said he would for the one kill, let alone a whole cluster of them. He wouldn’t even let Veko inside. Luckily it had almost literally just stopped raining. But it was getting to the point where Veko was having to take a few calming breaths between the arguing; the alderman was a miserable prick, but Veko didn’t want to snap on the guy.

“You take what I give ye an’ be done with it!” the alderman shouted, reaching for the dagger at his belt. “Or you’ll get no coin and—“

“Husband!” a woman’s voice rang out. Veko and the alderman jumped; fucking rain and yelling, making Veko’s senses dull. A small force practically ran into him from the side and wrapped a hand around his elbow. “What seems to be the problem?”

“Uh—“

“Eloise!” the alderman exclaimed. Oh shit, that’s where Veko knew her from! “Nothing t’ worry about, this Witcher was jus’ leaving.”

Eloise turned to Veko, pressing closer. “You were?” she asked, faking concern to apparently Veko’s ears only. “But darling, you just got here!”

Veko’s mind went totally blank. “Hello?” he said dumbly.

The alderman’s eyes narrowed. “What?” he hissed. “Eloise, this man—“

“Is my beloved,” Eloise cut in. The alderman’s mouth shut with an audible click. “Last year, don’t you remember? The Witcher that saved my father from those drowners!”

Veko continued to stare at her.

“But—“ the alderman stammered.

“Now what’s with all this shouting over here?” Eloise barreled on.

“I sent this Witcher here to kill the kikimora roamin’ about,” the alderman said.

Eloise gave Veko’s arm a little shake to snap him back into the conversation. “I, uh,” he stammered. “It wasn’t just one. There was a whole nest.”

Eloise clapped a hand over her mouth and gasped dramatically. “A whole nest!” she exclaimed, drawing the attention of the townspeople nearby. “My goodness! I’m so glad it’s been taken care of! Oh, Lennart, I don’t know what we would have done had a whole nest of those beasts descended upon the town!”

People were starting to whisper. The alderman—Lennart’s heart rate sped up. “Oh, well yes, I, eh, was good indeed.” He looked like he was trying to both glare at Veko and keep the shock of Eloise’s outburst off his face at the same time—and failing.

Eloise finally let go of Veko and took the alderman’s hands. “Do you need help with the coin?” she asked innocently. “For the additional kikimora? I know things have been difficult since Nora left—“

“I can handle it!” Lennart exclaimed, eyes darting around at the growing mass of people who’d come to hear about the monsters. The alderman patted Eloise’s hands and laughed nervously. “I mean, that’s alright dear! I-I’ve plenty of coin for the Witcher here! Let me—I’ll go get it.”

Lennart raced back into his house and the crowd of people began to disperse, clearly boring of the now dwindling conversation. Veko was still not sure what the fuck just happened. But before he could ask, the alderman burst back outside and practically threw a pretty hefty sack of coin into Veko’s hands.

“Splendid!” Eloise exclaimed, and then turned to Veko one more. “Shall we go, darling?”

Veko nodded, letting himself be led away, once again, by this bizarre woman. But just before Lennart went back inside, Veko turned to him, held up the bag of coin, and winked. Lennart turned an ugly red and slammed the door behind him.

“Fucking weaselly prick,” Eloise hissed. Veko guffawed.

“Holy shit,” he said. “Where did you even come from? How did you find me? What—what the hell was that?!”

Eloise held up a hand and ticked answers off her fingers. “I was in town putting an order for paints in, saw your horse tied to a tree near the edge of town, and Lennart is a right prick but easy to exploit because of it. His wife Nora left a few weeks ago with some adventurer who came through town. She knew he’d been trying to bed any girl in sight and rightfully left.”

Veko pocketed the bag of coin. “Well I’m not going to complain,” he said.

Eloise tucked her hand into the crook of his arm again. “Are you planning on staying?” she asked. “Papa says it’s supposed to rain; he can feel it in his knees, he says.”

Veko started itching at his burns. “I, uh—“

“Right, coming with me then.”

Veko laughed again and Eloise guide the way.

——————————————————

For having apparently acquired Eloise and her home, this was the first time Veko had actually been inside. It was cozy, the walls painted a pale pink and yellow. The kitchen was warm and smelled amazing, Eloise having apparently left something cooking while she’d been out.

Peering into the next room, the apparent main room of the house, Veko found bottles of paints and an assortment of brushes set up at an easel against the far window (splattered in paint); blank canvases were piled behind it. But actually giving the room a look-around, his attention was immediately drawn to the walls lined floor to ceiling with the most beautiful paintings Veko had ever seen.

Landscapes of what Veko recognized as the local stream and the goat paddock out back, faces he didn’t recognize but could have started up a conversation with him with how real they looked, random assortments of everyday items put together to make some interesting structure—there was art everywhere.

Veko didn’t realize he was gaping until he heard Eloise chuckle. “Like what you see?” she asked.

“They’re amazing,” Veko replied, reaching towards a painting of a young boy.

“Don’t touch!” Eloise snapped; Veko jumped. “Sorry, sorry, they’re just—when they dry the colors fade of you touch them.”

“Sorry,” Veko said, shoving his hand into his pocket.

Eloise shook her head. “It’s always been a dream of mine to be a famous painter. Sometimes I get commissions or sell some in Oxenfurt. There’s a man who comes by to take them to market every now and then. Anyway, apparently my father went to bed early,” she said. “Stew?” Eloise chuckled. “I can paint a delicious meal but actually cooking it, eh...”

Now it was Veko’s turn to laugh. “I’d love some, whatever it tastes like,” he said. “And—thank you, for that shit with the alderman.”

Eloise waved him off. “Honestly? Bringing you up has been doing wonders around here,” she said.

As Veko sat down at the table, he remembered: “Did you call me husband?”

“How long ago was that and you’re just realizing that now?”

“In my defense, you came out of nowhere!”

“Aren’t you supposed to be this great warrior with heightened senses?”

Instead of answering, Veko leaned forward and smirked. “You think I’m great?”

Eloise stared at him for a moment before scoffing and shoveling a spoonful of soup into her mouth. “A great pain in my arse,” she said, “and you’ve only been here five minutes.”

“Might I remind you that you’re the one who dragged me here.”

“Yeah, because you looked like a bloody kicked puppy when I asked!”

“Kitten.”

Eloise blinked. “What?”

Veko tapped his medallion. “I’m from the School of the Cat, so I’d be a kitten.”

There was a moment of silence before Eloise let out a ‘PFFFT!’ and burst out laughing. “Did you really just—“

“I can leave right now!” Veko exclaimed, but there was no heat behind it. Eloise’s laugh was loud and hoarse, hardly ladylike or cute, but for some reason Veko liked hearing it. He wanted to hear it again.

Eloise wiped tears from her eyes. “Just eat your stew, Witcher,” she said.

“Veko,” Veko said. “My name is Veko.”

“Veko,” Eloise repeated, like she was getting used to how it sounded. “Nice to officially meet you, husband.”

Veko started scratching his burns. “Oh gods.”

Eloise smacked his hand like she’d done last year. “Stop doing that,” she snapped. “You’re going to make it worse.”

“I’ve had it for fifteen years; I don’t think it’s going to get worse.”

Eloise was quiet. “How—? Never mind.”

“No, it’s ok,” Veko reassured her. “My brother and I got into a fight. Or something. I can’t remember. But it was an accident, either way.”

“Is your brother also a Witcher?”

Veko nodded, having just stuffed his face with stew again. “Yah,” he said, his mouth full. He swallowed. “Identical twins, actually. Though my hair’s longer and he’s a bit bulkier than I am. His name’s Hamra.”

“Veko and Hamra,” Eloise said, “twin Cat Witchers, huh?”

“Yes ma’am,” Veko replied. Over the course of the meal, Veko explained the basics about the Cats and their caravan, how they worked and why they occasionally split up. Eloise, for her part, only asking questions when he’d finished a story and let him talk most of the conversation. Normally, talking is what Veko was used to, but both times he’d been with this woman she’d shocked him into silence. It was nice to be comfortable again.

Night settled quickly and when they finished their respective meals, Eloise took both their bowls to wash. “I’m going to set a cot up for you,” she said over her shoulder.

“What, no bed?” Veko teased.

“Other than my father's bed, there’s only one other and it’s mine,” Eloise replied.

“Not enough room for husband and wife?”

Eloise suddenly turned serious. Without even turning to him she said, “I’ll not bed you, Witcher.”

Veko held his hands up in surrender, even though her back was still turned. “Ok,” he said softly. “Just messing around, sorry. Didn’t mean to upset you, truly.”

Eloise sighed deeply and finally turned to him. “I’m sorry,” she said. “I just. I don’t want that. From anyone, ever. It’s—it’s hard to explain. Just thinking about... that... makes me... extremely uncomfortable.”

Veko nodded. “I understand,” he said. “I mean, I don’t, but I respect that.”

Eloise smiled. “Thank you,” she said.

“Is that why me being your husband is useful?” Veko asked; Eloise’s heart rate sped up. “I don’t have a problem with that!” he quickly assured her. “It’s just, last year you said something to that effect.”

Eloise looked him in the eye for a moment, maybe trying to assess if he was telling the truth? And then nodded. “Yes.”

“Well, that’s no problem here,” Veko said. “Gods know I only really come through this area once a year. I could swing by to keep up appearances.”

“And I could help you bleed Lennart dry of all his coin.”

Veko smirked. “I like the way you think.”

Eloise smirked back. “I think this is going to be a very successful partnership.”

#the witcher #witcher oc #accidental warlord au #inexplicifics #falcon writes

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sleepy-weezypeezy · 5 years

Text

Direct Quotes: Richie’s Bisexuality in the Book

Richie and girls

• Looking at a dirty magazine with girls in it and getting turned on.

as Richie Tozier was sneaking a look at the half-undressed girls in a copy of Gem he had found at the bottom of his father’s socks-and-underwear drawer and getting a regular good boner

—

• His attraction to Beverly.

Richie liked Bev a lot. Well, he liked her, but not that way. He admired her looks (and knew he wasn’t alone—girls like Sally Mueller and Greta Bowie hated Beverly like fire, still too young to understand how they could have everything else so easily . . . and still have to compete in the matter of looks with a girl who lived in one of those slummy apartments on Lower Main Street), but mostly he liked her because she was tough and had a really good sense of humor. Also, she usually had cigarettes. He liked her, in short, because she was a good guy. Still, he had once or twice caught himself wondering what color underwear she was wearing under her small selection of rather faded skirts, and that was not the sort of thing you wondered about the other guys, was it?

And, Richie had to admit, she was one hell of a pretty guy.

[...]

“Hi, Richie,” Bev said, and when she turned toward him he saw a purple-blackish bruise on her right cheek, like the shadow of a crow’s wing. He was again struck by her good looks … only it occurred to him now that she might actually be beautiful. It had never really occurred to him until that moment that there might be beautiful girls outside of the movies, or that he himself might know one. Perhaps it was the bruise that allowed him to see the possibility of her beauty—an essential contrast, a particular flaw which first drew attention to itself and then somehow defined the rest: the gray-blue eyes, the naturally red lips, the creamy unblemished child’s skin. There was a tiny spray of freckles across her nose.

[...]

She leaned against Richie’s shoulder for a moment and Richie had just time to reflect that her touch, and the sensation of her lightly carried weight, was not exactly unpleasant.

[...]

Her eyes, that fine clear shade of blue-gray, turned up to his. They were coolly amused. She pretended to primp her hair and asked him, “Oh dear, am I being asked out on a date?”

For a moment Richie was uncharacteristically flustered. He actually felt a blush rising in his cheeks. He had made the offer in a perfectly natural way, just as he had made it to Ben … except hadn’t he said something to Ben about owesies? Yes. But he hadn’t said anything about owesies to Beverly.

Richie suddenly felt a bit weird. He had dropped his eyes, retreating from her amused glance, and realized now that her skirt had ridden up a bit when she shifted forward to drop the ice-cream cone in the litter barrel, and he could see her knees. He raised his eyes but that was no help; now he was looking at the beginning swells of her bosoms.

Richie, as he usually did in such moments of confusion, took refuge in absurdity.

“Yes! A date!” he screamed, throwing himself on his knees before her and holding his clasped hands up. “Please come! Please come! I shall ruddy kill meself if you say no, ay-wot? Wot-wot?”

“Oh, Richie, you’re such a fuzzbrain,” she said, giggling again … but weren’t her cheeks also a trifle flushed? If so, it made her look prettier than ever.

[...]

“Sure,” she said. “Thank you very much. Think of it! My first date. Just wait until I write it in my diary tonight.” She clasped her hands together between her budding breasts, fluttered her eyelashes rapidly, and then laughed.

“I wish you’d stop calling it that,” Richie said.

She sighed. “You don’t have much romance in your soul.”

“Damn right I don’t.”

But he felt somehow delighted with himself. The world seemed suddenly very clear to him, and very friendly. He found himself glancing sideways at her from time to time. She was looking in the shop windows—at the dresses and nightgowns in Cornell-Hopley’s, at the towels and pots in the window of the Discount Barn, and he stole glances at her hair, the line of her jaw. He observed the way her bare arms came out of the round holes of her blouse. He saw the edge of her slip strap. All of these things delighted him. He could not have said why, but what had happened in George Denbrough’s bedroom had never seemed more distant to him than it did right then. It was time to go, time to meet Ben, but he would sit here just a moment longer while her eyes window-shopped, because it was good to look at her, and be with her.

[...]

Bev spotted daisies growing on the riverbank and picked one. She held it first under Richie’s chin and then under Ben’s chin to see if they liked butter. She said they both did. As she held the flower under their chins, each was conscious of her light touch on their shoulders and the clean scent of her hair.

[...]

She scolded Richie all the time they were picking them up again, and Richie joked and screeched in many Voices, and thought to himself how beautiful she was.

—

• The full story of his ex-girlfriend Sandy and his vasectomy.

“Well,” Richie was saying, “I could make this long and sad or I could give you the Blondie and Dagwood comic-strip version, but I’ll settle for something in the middle. The year after I moved out to California I met a girl, and we fell pretty hard for each other. Started living together. She was on the pill at first, but it made her feel sick almost all the time. She talked about getting an IUD, but I wasn’t too crazy about that—the first stories about how they might not be completely safe were just starting to come out in the papers.

“We had talked a lot about kids, and had pretty well decided we didn’t want them even if we decided to legalize the relationship. Irresponsible to bring kids into such a shitty, dangerous, overpopulated world . . . and blah-blah-blah, babble-babble-babble, let’s go out and put a bomb in the men’s room of the Bank of America and then come on back to the crashpad and smoke some dope and talk about the difference between Maoism and Trotskyism, if you see what I mean.

“Or maybe I’m being too hard on both of us. Shit, we were young and reasonably idealistic. The upshot was that I got my wires cut, as the Beverly Hills crowd puts it with their unfailing vulgar chic. The operation went with no problem and I had no adverse aftereffects.

[...]

“Sandy and I lived together for two and a half years,” Richie went on. “Came really close to getting married twice. As things turned out, I guess we saved ourselves a lot of heartache and all that community-property bullshit by keeping it simple. She got an offer to join a corporate law-firm in Washington around the same time I got an offer to come to KLAD as a weekend jock—not much, but a foot in the door. She told me it was her big chance and I had to be the most insensitive male chauvinist oinker in the United States to be dragging my feet, and furthermore she’d had it with California anyway. I told her I also had a chance. So we thrashed it out, and we trashed each other out, and at the end of all the thrashing and trashing Sandy went.

“About a year after that I decided to try and get the vasectomy reversed. No real reason for it, and I knew from the stuff I’d read that the chances were pretty spotty, but I thought what the hell.”

“You were seeing someone steadily then?” Bill asked.

“No—that’s the funny part of it,” Richie said, frowning. “I just woke up one day with this . . . I dunno, this hobbyhorse about getting it reversed.”

“You must have been nuts,” Eddie said. “General anesthetic instead of a local? Surgery? Maybe a week in the hospital afterward?”

“Yeah, the doctor told me all of that stuff,” Richie replied. “And I told him I wanted to go ahead anyway. I don’t know why. The doc asked me if I understood the aftermath of the operation was sure to be painful while the result was only going to be a coin-toss at best. I said I did. He said okay, and I asked him when—my attitude being the sooner the better, you know. So he says hold your horses, son, hold your horses, the first step is to get a sperm sample just to make sure the reversal operation is necessary. I said, ‘Come on, I had the exam after the vasectomy. It worked.’ He told me that sometimes the vasa reconnected spontaneously. ‘Yo mamma!’ I says. ‘Nobody ever told me that.’ He said the chances were very small—infinitesimal, really—but because the operation was so serious, we ought to check it out. So I popped into the men’s room with a Frederick’s of Hollywood catalogue and jerked off into a Dixie cup—”

“Beep-beep, Richie,” Beverly said.

“Yeah, you’re right,” Richie said. “The part about the Frederick’s catalogue is a lie—you never find anything that good in a doctor’s office. Anyway, the doc called me three days later and asked me which I wanted first, the good news or the bad news.

“ ‘Gimme the good news first,’ I said.

“ ‘The good news is the operation won’t be necessary,’ he said. ‘The bad news is that anybody you’ve been to bed with over the last two or three years could hit you with a paternity suit pretty much at will.’

“ ‘Are you saying what I think you’re saying?’ I asked him.

“ ‘I’m telling you that you aren’t shooting blanks and haven’t been for quite awhile now,’ he said. ‘Millions of little wigglies in your sperm sample. Your days of going gaily in bareback with no questions asked have temporarily come to an end, Richard.’

“I thanked him and hung up. Then I called Sandy in Washington.

“ ‘Rich!’ she says to me,” and Richie’s voice suddenly became the voice of this girl Sandy whom none of them had ever met. It was not an imitation or even a likeness, exactly; it was more like an auditory painting. “ ‘It’s great to hear from you! I got married!’

“ ‘Yeah, that’s great,’ I said. ‘You should have let me know. I would have sent you a blender.’

“She goes, ‘Same old Richie, always full of gags.’

“So I said ‘Sure, same old Richie, always full of gags. By the way, Sandy, you didn’t happen to have a kid or anything after you left L.A., did you? Or maybe an unscheduled d and c, or something?’

“ ‘That gag isn’t so funny, Rich,’ she said, and I had a brainwave that she was getting ready to hang up on me, so I told her what happened. She started laughing, only this time it was real hard—she was laughing the way I always used to laugh with you guys, like somebody had told her the world’s biggest bellybuster. So when she finally starts slowing down I ask her what in God’s name is funny. ‘It’s just so wonderful,’ she said. ‘This time the joke’s on you. After all these years the joke is finally on Records Tozier. How many bastards have you sired since I came east, Rich?’

“ ‘I take it that means you still haven’t experienced the joys of motherhood?’ I ask her.

“ ‘I’m due in July,’ she says. ‘Were there any more questions?”

“ ‘Yeah,’ I go. ‘When did you change your mind about the immorality of bringing children into such a shitty world?’

“ ‘When I finally met a man who wasn’t a shit,’ she answers, and hangs up.”

Bill began to laugh. He laughed until tears rolled down his cheeks.

“Yeah,” Richie said. “I think she cut it off quick so she’d really get the last word, but she could have hung on the line all day. I know when I’ve been aced. I went back to the doctor a week later and asked him if he could be a little clearer on the odds against that sort of spontaneous regeneration. He said he’d talked with some of his colleagues about the matter. It turned out that in the three-year period 1980–82, the California branch of the AMA logged twenty-three reports of spontaneous regeneration. Six of those turned out to be simply botched operations. Six others were either hoaxes or cons—guys looking to take a bite out of some doctor’s bank account. So . . . eleven real ones in three years.”

“Eleven out of how many?” Beverly asked.

“Twenty-eight thousand six hundred and eighteen,” Richie said calmly.

Silence around the table.

“So I went and beat Irish Sweepstakes odds,” Richie said, “and still no kid to show for it. That give you any good chucks, Eds?”

—

Richie and boys

• Conscious of looking queer in public.

Alarmed, Richie put an arm around Bill’s shoulders (after taking a quick glance around to make sure no one who might mistake them for a couple of fagolas was looking).

“You’re okay,” he said. “You’re okay, Billy, right? Come on. Turn off the waterworks.”

“I didn’t wuh-wuh-want h-him t-to g-g-get kuh-hilled!” Bill sobbed. “TH-THAT WUH-WUH-WASN’T ON MY M-M-M-MIND AT UH-UH-ALL!”

“Christ, Billy, I know it wasn’t,” Richie said. “If you’d wanted to scrub him, you woulda pushed him downstairs or something.” Richie patted Bill’s shoulder clumsily and gave him a hard little hug before letting go. “Come on, quit bawlin, okay? You sound like a baby.”

—

• Checking out Bill’s shoulders and back and describing him as handsome.

Looking at Bill’s back, which was amazingly broad for a boy of eleven-going-on-twelve, watching it work under the duffel coat, the shoulders slanting first one way and then the other as he shifted his weight from one pedal to the other, Richie suddenly became sure that they were invulnerable . . . they would live forever and ever. Well . . . perhaps not they, but Bill would. Bill had no idea of how strong he was, how somehow sure and perfect.

[...]

Bill was here, and Bill would take care; Bill would not let things get out of control. He was the tallest of them, and surely the most handsome.

—

• His relationship with Eddie and his love for him.

Richie came bopping down to the stream, glanced at Ben with some interest, and then pinched Eddie’s cheek.

“Don’t do that! I hate it when you do that, Richie.”

“Ah, you love it, Eds,” Richie said, and beamed at him.

[...]

“Oh—you mean it was your idea, Eds? Jesus, I’m sorry.” He fell down in front of Eddie and began salaaming wildly again.

“Get up, stop it, you’re splattering mud on me!” Eddie cried.

Richie jumped to his feet a second time and pinched Eddie’s cheek. “Cute, cute, cute!” Richie exclaimed.

“Stop it, I hate that!”

[...]

“They’ll all pinch my cheek and tell me how much I’ve grown,” Eddie said.

“That’s cause they know how cute you are, Eds—just like me. I saw what a cutie you were the first time I met you.”

“Sometimes you’re really a turd, Richie.”

“It takes one to know one, Eds, and you know em all.”

[...]

“This wise man,” Richie said, “told me this: ‘No matter how much you squirm and dance, the last two drops go in your pants.’ And that’s why there’s so much cancer in the world, Eddie my love.”

[...]

“Put him down,” Beverly said. “He can stay here.”

“It’s too dark,” Richie sobbed. “You know . . . it’s too dark. Eds . . . he . . .”

“No, it’s okay,” Ben said. “Maybe this is where he’s supposed to be. I think maybe it is.”

They put him down, and Richie kissed Eddie’s cheek. Then he looked blindly up at Ben. “You sure?”

“Yeah. Come on, Richie.”

Richie got up and turned toward the door. “Fuck you, Bitch!” he cried suddenly, and kicked the door shut with his foot. It made a solid chukking sound as it closed and latched.

“Why’d you do that?” Beverly asked.

“I don’t know,” Richie said, but he knew well enough.

—

How IT manifests itself to Richie

• Sees himself as the werewolf, who is partly a man and partly a monster that can’t help the way he is.

The movies were great. The Teenage Frankenstein was suitably gross. The Teenage Werewolf was somehow scarier, though . . . perhaps because he also seemed a little sad. What had happened wasn’t his own fault. There was this hypnotist who had fucked him up, but the only reason he’d been able to was that the kid who turned into the werewolf was full of anger and bad feelings. Richie found himself wondering if there were many people in the world hiding bad feelings like that. Henry Bowers was just overflowing with bad feelings, but he sure didn’t bother hiding them.

[...]

Richie chanced a glance behind him as he flung himself onto the package carrier and saw the Werewolf crossing the lawn toward them, less than twenty feet away now. Blood and slobber mixed on its high-school jacket. White bone gleamed through its pelt about the right temple. There were white smudges of sneezing powder on the sides of its nose. And Richie saw two other things which seemed to complete the horror. There was no zipper on the thing’s jacket; instead there were big fluffy orange buttons, like pompoms. The other thing was worse. It was the other thing that made him feel as if he might faint, or just give up and let it kill him. A name was stitched on the jacket in gold thread, the kind of thing you could get done down at Machen’s for a buck if you wanted it.

Stitched on the bloody left breast of the Werewolf’s jacket, stained but readable, were the words RICHIE TOZIER.

—

• IT chooses to taunt him with Beverly and Eddie.

“You hear me, Richie? Bring your yo-yo. Have Beverly wear a big full skirt with four or five petticoats underneath. Have her wear her husband’s ring around her neck! Get Eddie to wear his saddle-shoes! We’ll play some bop, Richie! We’ll play AAALLLL THE HITS!”

—

The final verdict? Richie Tozier is bi as fuck.

#richie tozier #reddie #beverly marsh #bill denbrough #eddie kaspbrak #sandy (it)#stephen king's it #bi richie #bi richie tozier

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