#making me feel like a wild horse lost in someones yard and here he come with a carrot and some horse feed

[todayisafridaynight]

daigos voice is so calming mann i love it so much

genuinely and honestly top five most soothing voices to listen to

[randomshyperson]

Wanda Maximoff/Reader - Land of Thieves - #ChapterFive

Read on AO3 (EN) ///// Ler no AO3 (PT)

Summary: When you were a child, you swore that no matter how high the reward in your head, she could always count on you. Life as an outlaw in the west is not easy, but you believe that train robberies are still easier than asking a pretty girl to dance. Land of Thieves, also know as your love story with Wanda Maximoff in the Wild West.

Warnings:  18+, explicit language, explicit violence, slow burn, childhood friends to lovers, cursing, blood.

Words so far:  28,055  (did not include this chapter)

tags: @mionemymind

"God Bless Oil"

When you slept, you dreamed of Wanda, the best sleep you have had in many weeks. When you opened your eyes again, it was morning. And judging by the noise in the camp, everyone was already up. It took you a moment to remember that you were going to rob a train today.

- Hey sleepyhead, you need to hurry up. - Nat said as she entered your tent, you were getting up, and frowned as you watched her walk toward your trunk, clearly looking for something.

- Good morning! - you said, stretching. - What are you looking for?

- Socks.

You laughed, and reached out to the space between the corner of your bed, where you began to hide your socks precisely because Natasha was in the habit of stealing them. You held out a pair to her, and she made an expression pretending to be offended by your hiding place. She sat down beside you on the bed, throwing the boots she was carrying on the floor.

- You look happy. - She commented as she put on her socks. You shrugged your shoulders, trying to cover it up. She laughed. - No way, sis. Whats the deal with that smirk?

You got out of bed, laughing lightly as your cheeks flushed. You were about to tell her what happened, but Pietro stumbled into your room, looking excited as he buttoned his shirt.

- Does anyone have a little bit of hair pomade? My hair is a disaster today. - He comments, causing Nat to frown.

- Are you trying to look attractive for a robbery? - She hits back, he shrugs.

- I am already attractive. I just wanted to look more presentable.

You and Nat laugh at the comment, and you push him out of the tent, informing him that he had used up all of your supply, but that Thor would probably have some hair pomade.

Nat finished putting on her boots and approached you.

- We'll talk later, young lady.  - She warned you with a smile, before leaving. 

You rolled your eyes with amusement, walking towards your trunk in search of clothes more suitable for a robbery.

Tucking your hat on your head, you walked towards the main campfire, where most of the gang members were having their coffees. You exchanged a glance with Wanda, smiling shyly at her as you picked up some bread from the supply wagon, she smiled back at you tenderly.

- Attention everyone! - Steve announced, standing in front of his own tent, where everyone could see him. - I hope everyone rested well tonight. - He paused to check his watch. - We'll be leaving in a few minutes, so finish your coffee, and get your weapons from the wagon with Bucky. If you have anything else to pick up, hurry up!

Pietro imitated an army reference as Nat shouted "Yes, Captain" drawing laughter from everyone. Steve also smiled as he signaled with his fingers that he was "keeping an eye" on the mischief of the two.

You wiped the bread crumbs off your clothes before walking towards the ammunition wagon, joining the small line to get the guns. Bucky smiled at you when it was your turn, and handed you a springfield rifle, at which you looked at him in surprise.

- I thought I was going to get a Lancaster. - You commented but Bucky made a sound with his mouth of disagreement, writing something down in his small notebook before looking at you.

- We lost almost all of them in the fire. And besides, I thought you'd be fine with your two revolvers.

You shrugged, thanking him for the gun before leaving the line. You slung the rifle over your back, and walked toward the entrance to the camp, where Steve was already waiting for the others beside Peggy.

- Everything okay? - He asked as soon as you reached him, and you smiled and nodded your agreement.

While you were fixing the Knight's saddle, the others were joining you.

Nat tipped your hat jokingly as she passed you, heading for her own horse. You were about to give her a poorly crafted reply, but you spotted Wanda and Pietro walking to the area, and the answer died in your throat. You looked away quickly, mounting Knight.

When everyone arrived, Steve mounted on his brown sorrel before speaking:

- That's it, folks. I wish us all to ride safely. - He spoke in a serious tone, assuming a posture of leadership. - Take care of each other out there. 

Everyone nodded in agreement, and you watched Peggy lead the way for her group. You turned your head to the side, only to watch Nat signal the way your group should go. 

You would like to say that you rode in silence, but as soon as you were within a few yards of the camp, Pietro's out-of-tune singing filled your ears. You and the girls laughed, but he continued singing at full volume.

- Good Lord! - Nat grumbled, but soon Monica joined in the singing. And Nat laughed before joining in their song. 

- I got a girl in Valentine likes to drink that fancy wine. - sang Pietro accompanied by Nat and Monica, while you and Wanda laughed at the lack of rhythm.

The ride was a mixture of laughter and singing, but as you approached the meeting place, the mood changed quite a bit, and you fell silent. You covered your face with the mask, lingering your gaze on Wanda's masked face.

Nat signaled that you had reached the place where you, Pietro and Wanda would be staying to let her know that the train was moving, and you held out your hand to her, giving her a warm handshake before she rode off with Monica. You tried to swallow your nervousness. 

- Are you ready for this, girls? - Pietro tried to look nonchalant, but his gaze showed his nervousness. You exchanged a look with Wanda before nodding.

- It's not the first time we've stolen a train. - You joked, but you couldn't see your friends' smiles because of the mask.

- I bet I can do better shooting than you. - Pietro exclaimed after a moment, making you laugh. - Are you doubting me?

- Please, Pietro. We both know that Wanda is going to hit a lot more shots than both of us put together. - You declared, and Pietro laughed, poking his sister in the ribs, who just shrugged with a smug look. 

- Don't you ever stop moving? - complained Wanda after a moment, you observed Pietro almost hanging off the horse, trying to fuss with the aforge.

- I'm usually the one who's driving. - He retorts, and Wanda rolls her eyes.

- If you try to ride Hex, he'll knock you down in a second. - You say ironically, Wanda nods in agreement, but Pietro just shrugs.

- Wouldn't I have some kind of twin advantage? - he joked. - Maybe he trusts me to tame him.

- Pietro, shut up. - Wanda said, and you laughed, thinking it was a joke. But then you noticed the redhead's raised eyebrows, and looked straight ahead. Pietro spoke again, and then you asked him to shut up. An explosion noise was heard in the distance afterwards.

- What the fuck was that? - Pietro exclaimed, and you advanced with Knight toward the train tracks. 

- Stay here, okay? - You say, getting ready to ride. - I'll go investigate.

- What, no way! - Wanda exclaimed, but you heard a second explosion. Feeling your chest fill with concern, you turned around one last time before leaving.

- Just stick to the plan, okay? I just need to make sure that Steve is okay.

And you rode at high speed in the direction the train was supposed to come. It didn't take long before you spotted the oil fields, startled by the black smoke that was visible in the sky. As you got closer, you could hear the sound of gunfire, and then you came down the small hill and could see the conflict. 

You couldn't tell where all those men had come from, but noticing their green uniforms, you identified them as O'Driscoll. It was easy to understand that they had decided to attack the factory after all. You noticed the black carriages that belonged to Howard Stark, completely surrounded by guards, but your gaze was searching for Steve.

You were startled when Wanda suddenly appeared riding beside you.

- Shit, girl, you scared the hell out of me! - You shouted as you rode into the conflict.

- I can't believe you actually thought I was going to let you fight alone. - She said in a tone of mixed seriousness and teasing, and you rolled your eyes in mock amusement. 

Then you identified Peggy, still mounted, shooting at what you imagined to be the factory guards. 

- Steve! Steve! - she shouted, and you felt your chest sink. You couldn't see him in the confusion either. You, Wanda and Pietro finally reached her, and she seemed relieved to see you all right.

- What the hell happened here? - Pietro asked. 

- The O'Driscolls came shooting in the middle of the negotiation! - Peggy explained, shouting so that you could hear her between shots. - They surrounded the factory from all sides, and someone shot Howard Stark!

- Where's Steve? - you asked, trying to find him in the crowd.

- He went to Bucky. - Peggy said with concern in her voice. She looked away from you to take aim with the rifle she was holding, and fired in the direction of the guards. At the distance you were standing, no one was shooting back.

- Right. - You nodded before sending Knight toward the gunshots. You heard Peggy yelling for you to come back, but you could only think of Steve. 

You skirted the field, heading toward the factory, while drawing one of the revolvers. Knight was getting very agitated by the noise, so you tried to calm him down with words of affirmation.

As your proximity increased, the enemies began to notice you. You didn't want to risk using your rifle while mounted, so you took them on with your revolvers, while keeping Knight at high speed to avoid the shots. You succeeded in most of the shots, without really absorbing the images of the open wounds and the bullets going through the skin of those you shot. It was a war in the open, and when you felt a gunshot graze your ear, you began to really worry about Steve's safety. You ducked your head as you sent Knight toward the entrance of the factory, but then you felt your body being thrown forward, knocking you off your horse. You rolled on the ground for a few meters, and let out a grunt of pain when you finally stopped. Blinking in confusion, you looked around, getting up with difficulty. Nothing broken, you checked. 

You lost your breath next, feeling a great impact on your stomach that you eventually realized was a punch. A man knocked you to the ground, the black uniform of a factory guard. You struggled against him, and he had an angry expression as he tried to choke you. You got out of your grip by kneeing him in the balls, and he fell over onto his side in pain. You hurried to get up, but when you reached for your pistol, you saw that your holster was empty. As you reached for your revolver in the secondary holster, someone grabbed you from behind, one arm choking you by the neck.

You tried to let go, unable to breathe properly as you raised your hand to try to pry the arm around your neck, but the guard holding you would not let go. The man you kicked started to get up.

Then you heard two shots, and the grip loosened. You fell to your knees, coughing with shortness of breath, before your breathing normalized. Both men fell to the ground with a thud, and you looked around in confusion. Wanda and Pietro stood side by side, each with their pistols raised in the direction you were standing. 

- Are you all right there, dear? - teased Pietro.

You smiled at them, but before you could mutter a thank you, other shots rang out nearby, and you rushed to grab your fallen revolver a few inches away. You sought shelter to avoid the shots, and crouched side by side against a block of wood.

- They're heading for the train! - shouted a male voice, and then you watched as a large group of guards ran toward the checkpoint, which was a few meters in front of the factory, in the opposite direction from you. But the members of the O'Driscoll gang seemed to spring up from the ground, and resisted the guards with many shots. 

You looked around, and finally spotted Steve. His blond hair showing through the factory window. You imagined that he had found a good place to avoid the gunfire inside.

- Steve is inside. - You told the twins. - Cover me.

And then you rolled to the side, ducking as you ran toward the factory door. The guards continued to shoot at the O'Driscolls, and didn't seem to make any difference who wasn't in the gang, shooting at anything that moved. Wanda and Pietro provided good cover, since you didn't get shot. 

Entering the factory, you ran to where Steve was standing, frowning at the trail of blood on the floor. You completely lost your breath at the image you saw.

Steve was hiding against one of the machines, trying to shoot some guards that were on the opposite side of the room. Bucky was on his lap, unconscious, the blood pooling around him, his left arm pierced by something that looked like a piece of iron. You fell to your knees in front of them, raising your hands, which were trembling badly, to Bucky.

- Steve... What happened to him? - You asked, and only at this proximity you noticed the dry tears on his cheeks.

- He'll be fine, Y/N. - Steve replied, and then he finally hit the last guard of the factory, and the gunshot noises were only outside now. Steve stood up, trying to lift Bucky. - Come on, help me carry him.

You helped him, and Steve hung Bucky by his healthy arm on his shoulders. You noticed that he was not unconscious only when he let out a loud groan of pain.

- We have to get out of here. - Steve grumbled as you walked through the factory. - They shot the horses.

- Where are you going? - You exclaimed as you saw him walking in the opposite direction from where you had come, directly into the area where the conflict was most intense. You heard again the sound of an explosion, which shook the entire factory.

- The train, Y/N. - He explained. - It's our only way out of here. Take my gun, make way for us.

Steve handed you his own Litchfield, and you took a deep breath before opening the factory door. Looking around, you noticed a small group of guards trying to set up a barrier against the advancing O'Driscolls in the outpost area.

You were trying to decide how exactly you were going to shoot twenty other people without dying, when you heard a much larger explosion happen and you were thrown back into the factory with the impact. 

- What the hell? - You grumbled, trying to stand up again, and then you felt someone lift you off the ground.

- They're setting the oil on fire. - Pietro explained, helping you up, Wanda by your side. - We have to get out of here fast.

- We have to get to the train. - You told them, moving towards the factory door again. Now you could see the flames growing around the place. The guards that had once been near the door had scattered all over the place, trying to get away from the fire.

- The way to go is to shoot everything that moves. - commented Pietro, joining you at the door. You nodded. - Is our bet still on? - He added in a playful tone, and you rolled your eyes, not answering. 

And then you left the factory, you and Pietro in front, shooting anyone who looked like they wanted to kill you. Wanda covered the rear so that Steve could carry Bucky to the train, which was stopped at the post.

Despite all the shooting, you finally arrived at the station, and Steve rushed to load Bucky into one of the wagons, while you, Wanda and Pietro shot the few guards inside the transport.

The guards at the factory were too busy with the O'Driscolls burning everything around them to notice you boarding the train. 

Thor came up to you next, completely covered in soot and blood, but still mounted on his white sorrel. He made it across the field to the post.

- Someone killed Stark. - He shouted. You looked at him with shock, but hurried to get on the train.

- Thor, did you see where Peggy was? - you asked.

- No! - He retorted, and then turned his horse's reins so that it was headed in the direction of where you last saw Peggy. - I haven't seen her since the first explosion, I'm going back to check on her!

And he rode away. You ran to the wagon in which Steve had placed Bucky lying on one of the benches.

- I think they killed the driver too. The train looks empty. - You told Steve. But he didn't seem to be listening at all, completely disturbed by Bucky's state. But then he blinked and turned to you, standing up.

- I'll get the train moving. Just... take care of him, okay?

You nodded in agreement, and he left the cab, running toward the front of the train.

When the engine started moving, the guards still tried to shoot at you, but you were already out of range. You figured that the only reason none of the guards were following you on horseback was because of the remaining O'Driscolls in the factory, who seemed determined to burn the whole place down.

You let out an exclamation of relief when you saw Thor and Nat's horses approaching. Both riding together with Peggy and Monica respectively.

Steve stepped out of the driver's cab into an open wagon, intending to talk to them.

- You need to get out of here! - Peggy shouted. - There were soldiers in Stark's caravan. They will hunt the heads of anyone who is in the area.

- Get back to camp! - Steve shouted at the same height so that he could be heard over the wind. - You've got to get everyone out of there! 

- Where are we going, Steve?

- Stephen! Ask Stephen for a safe place.

Peggy nodded, and then Thor swung the reins of his horse, and they rode off toward the camp. Nat glanced at you before following them, and you tried not to worry so much, repeating to yourself that she would be fine.

You ran into the driver's cab, finding Steve trying to turn the train around.

- What are you going to do? - You asked, watching as he tried to push the mechanical steering wheel with difficulty, which you found strange. And then your gaze lowered a little and you noticed the deep cut on his waist. - My God, Steve, what is that?

He grumbled, but didn't move his hands away. You rushed to help him turn the wheel, before allowing him to lean on your shoulders, and you led him back to the same spot where Bucky had been. 

Wanda and Pietro looked at you with worried expressions, but you only said that Steve had a cut on his stomach.

- I need to stop the bleeding, okay? - you said to Steve, who just shook his head in agreement. You took off your jacket, using it to press on the open wound. 

Seeing him like that, and hearing the low moans of pain from Bucky in the next seat, brought a wracking feeling to your stomach. Your hands began to shake, and your eyes filled with tears, as you tried to normalize your breathing and not cry. Steve realizing your state, raised his hand to shake yours, a tender but tired smile on his face.

- It's okay, Y/N. - he whispered. - We'll both be fine.

You shook your head, feeling a tear run down your cheek. Steve looked very pale, and you couldn't stop staring.

Feeling a hand on your shoulder, you let out a sigh, startled a little. Wanda crouched down beside you.

- Let me do it. - She said in a low tone, noticing your nervousness. You shook your head in denial.

- It's okay, Wands. I... - Your voice came out completely broken. Wanda moved your hands

- Look for the supply wagon with Pietro. - She asked, the hand that had been on your shoulder caressing your face lightly, wiping away the tears that had run down your face. - I'll take care of it.

You shook your head, unable to say anything. Getting up in shock, you walked to the end of the train car, finding Pietro waiting for you at the door. He gave you a warm smile, and you tried to focus on that and not on the urge to turn around and go back to Steve.

You walked in silence the entire length of the train. As you looked around, your breathing calmed down, and you felt less terrified. When you finally reached the supply wagon, and started going through the lockers, Pietro joked that you really did rob a train after all, and you were able to laugh softly.

After a moment, Pietro let out a happy exclamation, and you turned to him curiously.

- Damn, finally! Here, look, these are medical supplies. - He said as he divided some items among you two. 

You were leaving the cabin when you heard a strange noise. You frowned and exchanged a look with Pietro before drawing your revolver and walking toward the source of the noise: the large closet in the corner of the wagon.

Pietro shouted in fright when a man fell out. You stumbled backwards, torn between punching Pietro for being so outrageous, or shooting the stranger. You ended up waiting for the stranger to manifest himself.

- Maybe it's a ghost. - Pietro commented, and you rolled your eyes. The man seemed to be faking a faint.

- I will shoot you in the head if you don't say something in the next two seconds.

This seemed to stimulate the stranger enough, who stood up quickly, with his hands on his head. He must have been Steve's age, but he was very well dressed, and had a well-groomed beard. You gave him a sharp look.

- Damn, sorry, sorry. - He said. - I was hiding.

- Are you going to tell me who you are, or can I throw you off the train now?

The man turned pale, but hurried to answer.

- My name is Anthony Stark. - said the man, and you widened your eyes in surprise. - I wouldn't want to be thrown off my own train.

Pietro laughed at the joke, but you looked at him reprovingly, and he shut up. 

- What were you doing hiding in the closet of your train, Mr. Stark? - you questioned him, and he felt comfortable enough to lower his hands.

- Well, you and your friends blew up an oil field on top of my carriage, and I was dragged to safety by my security guards. - He explained, putting his hands in his pockets.

- I didn't know Stark was bringing his son into the negotiation. - Commented Pietro, and you watched Tony's expression change at the mention of his father. You almost sympathized with him.

- We're not the ones who attacked you in the camps. - You said, but Tony looked at you suspiciously.

- But it is you who are stealing my train.

- We are running away on your train.

- And that's different from stealing, how exactly?

You smiled at the argument. Then you rolled your eyes, putting away your revolver. 

- We don't have time for this. - You declared, turning toward the exit and starting to walk toward the next wagons. You heard Pietro and Tony accompany you. It took a moment for Tony to question what exactly you were going to do with what you were carrying, and Pietro explained that you had two wounded. Tony let out an exclamation.

- I can help with that. I am a doctor.

- Why would you help people who are robbing your train? - you asked suspiciously. Tony just shrugged his shoulders.

- I wouldn't like to be thrown onto the tracks. - He says simply. 

Arriving at the destination wagon, you rush to put the items down before walking over to Steve, being glad that he was still awake. You look at Bucky, who is still groaning, but conscious. 

- Who is this? - Wanda asks as soon as Tony enters the wagon.

- Tony Stark. - You answer, and ignore her surprised look to pull Tony toward Steve. - Here are your patients, Doctor Stark.

- Okay, this is really bad. - He comments as soon as he catches his eyes on Bucky. He keeps muttering to himself before looking at you with an expression of pity and seriousness. - I'm sorry, I'm going to have to amputate.

Steve turns his head to the side quickly, and you feel a wave of nausea in your stomach.

Seeing that everyone is in shock, Tony continues.

- I know it's not what anyone wants to hear, but I need to amputate his arm soon. He has already lost too much blood. - And then he stood up, looking for something. He grabbed an empty suitcase from one of the compartments, and carried it toward Bucky. - I need a knife. 

Pietro asked him to wait, and ran toward the supply wagon, returning a short time later, a saw in his hands.

You blinked in horror at the weapon, but Pietro shrugged, saying:

- I've seen a doctor do this once before. 

- Yes yes, that's better than a knife actually. - Tony commented and then he crouched down next to Bucky. - Hey buddy, this is going to hurt a lot. - He said as he moved Bucky's arm over the bag he had picked up. Bucky was already grunting loudly in pain from the movement. - I wouldn't stand by and watch if I were you.

- I'll keep an eye on him, if you like. - Pietro suggested, and you and Wanda nodded, stepping out of the car. You were feeling extremely disturbed by the whole situation.

You stared at the landscape at high speed, leaning against the railing of the open wagon, And then you felt your whole body tremble when Bucky's first screams could be heard. You bowed your head, closing your eyes. Wanda stood next to you, and reached your hand over the railing and intertwined your fingers together, trying to calm you. It didn't help much when the sounds continued, but it was better than being alone.

And then the screaming stopped. You let out a sigh. You gave Wanda's hand one last squeeze before letting go, turning toward the wagon door.

You didn't look at Bucky, the sight of Stark covered in blood made you too queasy. Tony wiped some of the blood from his face and arms with a towel before ducking toward Steve.

Steve grumbled at getting stitches, but it was all much cleaner than with Bucky. And then in a few minutes, Tony was finished.

- I think you guys should get some rest now. - he says, but Steve lets out a hoarse laugh.

- Our stop is approaching. - Steve says with irony. He gets up with difficulty, refusing Pietro's help, and you roll your eyes at how proud he can be. He walks out of the wagon, looking around, and then heads toward the driver's cab. You follow him, frowning in concern.

- Steve, what are you doing? - you ask.

- Come, here. Help me stop the train. - He asks, ignoring your question. You look around, and are confused to realize that you are in the middle of nowhere, this track route you didn't know. But you approach and help him to stop the locomotive.

As the train comes to a stop, you watch the scenery intently. 

- Are we still in New Hanover? - you ask and Steve laughs lightly.

- Of course we are. - He says. - We're not that far from Emerald Ranch. If you walk a little further you will notice that we have reached the edge of the tracks.

- Oh, we're close to the Roanoke Ridge area. - You say, finally locating yourself. Steve nods in agreement.

You walk back to the wagon where everyone was, and you realize that with the train at a stop, it is much easier to keep your balance. 

Steve approaches Bucky, stroking his hair, but the man is asleep. He crouches down to carry him, but Pietro says that he and Stark can handle it. Steve tries to argue, but eventually gives in. 

- Do you have any idea where we are going to camp? - Wanda asks Steve and he laughs, ruffling her hair.

- I wouldn't bring you to the middle of nowhere without tents or food, kids. - He jokes, but seeing the disbelieving looks on their faces, he pretends to be offended. - I am hurt by the lack of trust this gang has in me.

You roll your eyes with irony, and Wanda smiles at you.

When you get off the train, Steve leads the way, and it takes a few minutes before he speaks again.

- Bucky and I used to hunt bears in this region. - He said. - Before the gang, of course. When we were in the army.

Everyone was silent as they listened to Steve telling the story, maybe it was tiredness. You guessed that the only reason Pietro didn't interrupt with a joke was because he was busy trying to carry Bucky.

- There was an abandoned cottage around here. - he says. - In the war, anywhere would do for shelter, but finding a place like that was big luck. - Steve looks around for a moment, probably trying to remember the right direction. - It was simple, but extremely cozy. But after we formed the gang, and you kids came, there was nothing left to keep us down south. So we traveled to New Austin and this place was forgotten for good.

- You guys like to tell stories, don't you? - remarked Tony in a tone of debauchery, you startled slightly, having forgotten that he was present. Steve looked at him with disapproval, but didn't say anything.

You walked a little longer, silent except for the sound of Steve's whistling, and then he stopped walking.

- Finally! - complained Tony. 

Steve pulled back a long pine leaf that blocked the view from the front, and then you could see the little brown cottage a few meters away from where you were standing.

It was covered with leaves, almost completely hidden among the forest. You wouldn't have seen it if you hadn't been looking directly at it. It was a simple construction, and small, with at most two or three rooms. You smiled as you noticed the lake surrounding the garden.

You walked toward the place, and Steve forced open the door, checking to see if the place really was empty. He entered the cottage, and returned a moment later smiling, and signaling for you to come in.

You were surprised to notice that there was furniture, all covered with white sheets. Steve really used to use this place. You noticed that it was larger than it looked from the outside. The room was well lit, and there was even a window in the ceiling. There were two bedrooms, which extended to the back, which is why you could not see them from the outside. The bathroom was shared between them.

- This place is amazing, Steve. - Pietro remarked as he put Bucky down on the bed in one of the bedrooms. - But I have to ask, nobody died here, right? I hate ghosts.

Steve laughed, denying it with his head. 

- This will do for a few days. - He said as he looked around the cabin. - At least until Bucky is well enough to travel.

- How are we going to find the gang? - Wanda asked.

- Peggy knows about this place. - He replied. - When they find a new place, I'm sure she'll write to us.

- Do the letters even get here? - you asked ironically, making Steve laugh.

- Well, you're very funny today. Of course there is mail here.

You laugh and exchange a mischievous look with Wanda and Pietro.

- Now if you don't mind, why don't you try hunting our dinner? - Steve suggests, and you understand that he actually wants the three of you to leave, and you know exactly why. - I'll have a word with Mr. Stark.

- Doctor. - Tony corrects, but Steve ignores him.

You, Wanda and Pietro obey, walking out of the cabin. Now that you are safe, you let out a sigh of relief. 

- Do you think he will stay with us? - asked Pietro as soon as you were outside.

You shrugged. 

- I think Steve is going to ask him to stay. - Said Wanda, and you and Pietro looked at her curiously. - Stark saved Bucky's life.

- Stark thought it was us who set fire to the oil fields. - You said. - He must think that we are also the ones who killed his father.

- Damn, this is bad. - added Pietro. - If he thinks we killed his father, he will surely denounce us. And he's already seen our faces very clearly.

- We'll have to trust Steve. - You said, shrugging your shoulders. - We have to believe that he will be able to convince Tony of the truth.

Wanda and Pietro nodded in agreement, and you spent a moment in silence, before you told them that you should look for dinner.

- Let's have some fun then. - says Pietro as he reloads his own gun. - Whoever finds food first, or whoever brings the best hunt, wins.

- Sorry but what prize do you have to offer? - You mock.

- You know, greed is such a sad thing. - Pietro returns in the same tone, making you and Wanda laugh. - Besides the incalculable fun I'm offering, the winner gets to choose the prize.

- You're out of ideas, aren't you? - Wanda sneers, and Pietro shrugs, laughing in agreement.

- Do you accept the conditions? - He asks, pretending to be serious. You roll your eyes humorously, but agree, being accompanied by Wanda. Pietro jumps up and down with excitement. - Let the hunt begin!

He shouts and rushes forward. You and Wanda laugh before running off in opposite directions.

[fishfingersandjellybabies]

The Crown Found in Rose Thorns (Part 2) - fic

Characters: Damian Wayne, Jon Kent, Timothy Drake, bits of Steph, Jason and Dick Summary: Jonathan and Damian go on their first date. A/N: I just think about royal princes jon and damian a lot, mmkay. also, those flowers don’t ever wilt, Damian will find out. maybe it’ll be important later, if I remember that detail.

Ao3

~~

There was a giddy energy around the castle this morning. He felt it as he walked through the halls. The servants were all chattering amongst themselves, smiling in his direction whenever he passed by.

The prince has a date! They were all saying. The prince has chosen a suitor!

Damian could only roll his eyes. Hardly.

He found his hand had drifted to the hilt of the sword on his hip as he entered the courtyard. Perhaps he could challenge that infuriating Jonathan to a duel? It was only appropriate – he tried to mock Damian in front of his court.

But he ended up shaking his head. Knowing what little he did of this prince of Krypton, the simpleton might enjoy that.

As he neared the gates, he felt himself give an involuntary sigh. It must have been loud, as the one waiting there turned and grinned.

Almost as annoying as Jonathan of Krypton – his brother, Timothy.

“Don’t tell me you’re my chaperone for this…event.” Damian called.

Timothy kept his smirk. “Well, since you sound so enthused by the prospect, I can ask to be.”

“Don’t.” Damian scolded as he reached him. “I don’t need protection. Especially against the knight.”

“While I don’t doubt your skills, we don’t know that.” Timothy reminded. “He could be working for Ra’s.”

“He claimed to be the child of Father’s ally. Or did Richard not tell you that?” Damian hummed, staring out into the bustling streets. A small child waved towards them. He smiled and waved back. “Or do you just not believe him?”

“You do?” Timothy raised an eyebrow. “Prince Damian of Gotham, believing people at their word? Surely Father has taught you better than that.”

Damian felt heat in his face. “Of course I don’t. But I also know he doesn’t fit Grandfather’s brand of agent. He’d use someone we wouldn’t expect. A fortune teller or shop keep. An old cook or cleaning woman. A young, strong-looking knight who draws so much attention? Seems…implausible.”

“Strong-looking, hm? And here, Richard told me you only agreed to meet with him today as a barbaric game.” Timothy questioned mischievously. Damian pursed his lips and punched Timothy’s arm. “Ow! Hey!”

“Frankly I trust Sir Jonathan to not be an agent more than I trust the likes of…of Cassandra’s suitor.” Damian mumbled. “Why don’t you spend more time investigating that bard woman? How can you be so sure she’s not an agent? That’s exactly the type of person Grandfather would use. No direct ties to me, and could harm someone else in our family in the process. Exactly what Ra’s al Ghul would want.”

“Stephanie has been vetted. She was vetted long before she and Cassandra were romantically involved.” Timothy explained. He laughed then. “Speaking of her – back to your original question. No, I am not your chaperone today. I’m here waiting for Stephanie.”

“Why?” Damian demanded. “Does Cassandra know?”

“Yes, she does. She’ll be joining us.” Timothy nodded. “Stephanie is a bard, like you said. So she hears the stories. She knows things.” He looked towards Damian. “We’re hoping she knows things about the Kingdom of Krypton and a certain prince.”

Damian crossed his arms. “So…who is my chaperone, then? Surely there is one.”

“Not directly. You and Jonathan will still be alone in general. He’ll just follow in the distance.” Timothy shrugged. “And it’s Jason, I believe.”

Jason, the raunchy brother. He had almost as little manners as Jonathan himself. Always yelling and cussing. No filter, no politeness. A rough man who drank too much.

He’d almost prefer Timothy.

“And I believe Richard will be joining him later in the day, or switching. But I cannot remember.” Timothy suddenly stepped forward. Damian looked into the crowd and saw a blonde woman in a purple travelling cloak gliding towards them. “Now, if you’ll excuse me.”

The woman came forward, and bowed when she was close enough. Damian gave her a head nod in return as Timothy turned to guide her into the courtyard. They were halfway to the castle when Timothy turned back.

“And Damian, don’t forget!” He called. “If Sir Jonathan does anything untoward,” He pulled his own blade out of its sheath halfway. “You stab to kill.”

Stephanie laughed. Damian grinned in response, and turned towards the town, making his way towards the forest.

~~

He caught sight of Jason a few times on his walk. Riding his gray horse lazily fifty or so yards away. The one time, Jason saw him watching, and gave him a cheeky wink.

Damian had scowled and tried to walk faster, almost hoping to get lost in the crowd. Just because he had to have a chaperone, didn’t mean he couldn’t make the job worth their while.

As he entered the clearing on the edge of the forest – the agreed meeting place – he slowed. Jonathan was already there.

He wasn’t in his armor today, but rather a simple tunic and pants, similar to Damian’s own outfit, just minus the tied vest. He was sitting on a fallen log, fiddling with the flowers popping up around his boots.

Damian did not see a weapon on him.

Along with the change of outfit, his demeanor seemed different from the day before as well. His face was no longer sharp confidence and sunny mischievousness. Now, his eyes were half-lidded as he relaxed, face thoughtful as his head tilted and he examined the flowers.

Damian ignored the sudden feeling in his chest. Because it wasn’t annoyance or haughtiness or even suspiciousness like he expected.

Without warning, a bird swooped down from overhead, cawing as it brushed along Damian’s hair. The noise made Jonathan look up, and once he recognized Damian, he smiled.

“…She sure seems to like you.” Jonathan laughed as he stood. “Hello, Your Highness.”

“Hello.” Damian mumbled, holding his arm out. The bird fluttered down to land on his elbow. “Waiting long?”

“No, not long.” Jonathan scratched awkwardly at his hair. “…I tend to arrive places early when I’m nervous.”

Damian snorted. “You? Nervous? Your showing yesterday implied you didn’t know the meaning of the word.”

Jonathan let out a gentle laugh. “Well…I had to get your attention somehow.” When Damian glanced up at him, he found himself unable to hold the gaze, so looked to the bird. “Is she yours?”

“No, she’s wild.” Damian assured, even as he pet gently at the bird’s head. “I…spend a lot of time out here. Feed them on occasion.” He looked towards the bird and smiled. “She must remember me.”

“Well, you are hard to forget.” Jonathan mumbled. Damian had a feeling he wasn’t supposed to hear it, so didn’t push the issue…yet. Instead, he let Jonathan admire the bird for a moment, then shook his elbow and pushed the bird back into the sky. She flew off with another caw. “…Lead the way?”

Damian nodded and moved down the path. Jonathan stayed behind him for a few moments, before jogging to catch up.

“I…um.” He let out a small cough. “I don’t mean to alarm you.”

Damian glanced at him.

“There’s a man on a horse following us.” Jonathan whispered. “…Would you like me to deal with him?”

Damian stopped walking and turned. In the expanse of trees, he could see the shadow of Jason, chaperoning as promised.

Damian smirked.

“I should.” He called loudly. “I should absolutely let you dispatch of our stalker.” He heard Jason’s horse snort as Jason turned her away.

Jonathan glanced between him and the trees. “I…think I am missing something.”

Damian laughed. “My family is overprotective.” He explained. “With this…situation with my grandfather, they are chaperoning my every movement, including with potential suitors. That’s merely my brother, Jason.”

Jonathan hummed. “I’d heard about that.” He sighed. “I’m…sorry.”

Damian shrugged. “My grandfather has always been ruthless. Apparently tried to kill my father when he and mother agreed to marry. Why anyone is surprised he’s come after me is beyond me.”

Jonathan didn’t respond. They walked in silence for a few moments. Damian’s bird friend let out another cry as she flew above them once more.

“That was why you came, though, isn’t it? For all that glory?” Damian asked. “You know, to be the one to succeed in protecting the youngest prince of Gotham?”

“No.” Jonathan said simply. “I came for you.” When Damian looked at him, he was uncupping his hands, revealing a small flower. He twisted the stem into his fingers and held it out. “Just for you.”

Damian stared between the flower and Jon’s face, then back again.

“…You weren’t holding that before.” Damian whispered. He looked up again. “I know you weren’t.”

“No, I wasn’t.” Jonathan smiled and held the flower out. Damian took it without thinking, cataloguing that the mischievousness was back in Jonathan’s brilliant purple eyes.

Curious.

“I will admit, though, that hearing about your mother’s call for a suitor did spur my action.” Jonathan admitted wistfully. “Gave me a reason to return to Gotham and try my luck.”

“You’ve been here before?”

“Many times. My family travelled often when I was younger. We were in and out of kingdoms all the time.” Jonathan chuckled. “How my father met and befriended your father, I still don’t know. It’s a story he won’t tell.”

“Old men love their secrets.” Damian agreed. He stared down at the flower as they walked, stroked at its pink petals.

Those feelings Damian expected, the pride and suspicion, they weren’t manifesting. In fact, he was finding that it was…surprisingly nice, walking with Sir Jonathan. It didn’t feel awkward or forced. Their conversation was flowing naturally. There was no hint of the bordering animosity from yesterday, or the challenge. And, loathe as he was to admit it, even just to himself, he was easy on the eyes.

He still couldn’t trust him, though. Couldn’t stop assuming there was going to be another shoe to drop. A catch to this seemingly simple situation.

“So…” Damian sighed after a few minutes of silence. “I am to believe you are sincere, then?”

“Hm?”

“You aren’t here for the glory of protecting the prince?” Damian repeated, putting the flower behind his ear so he could clasp his hands behind his back. Jonathan shook his head. “Or for the riches that come with joining a highly respected royal family?” Jonathan smirked and shook his head. “You are here for love and all it entails, truly?”

“Yes.” Jonathan said easily. “At least I hope so.” He looked up into the sky, watching the clouds between the reaching tree branches. “I believe love could happen, but I also know that’s no guarantee. I mean,” Another laugh, this one nervous. “I know you’re not happy with me so far, but I will admit I am fond of you already. But I know that could change.”

He gave out a dreamy sigh.

“I could end up hating you.” He mumbled. “Or I could end up so deeply in love with you I don’t know what I’d do.”

Damian stared at him, specifically at his sparkling purple eyes. “…The former is more likely.”

Jonathan blinked and the sparkle disappeared from his eye as he looked back at Damian. He gave another smile, but it was sadder. “Surely you think better of yourself than that, Your Highness.”

Damian shrugged. “It…has happened before. An occurrence I’m used to. Friends, family…look at my grandfather, after all. Why do you think my mother feels the need to beg for someone to love me?”

“Well then, I will just have to hope to fall even deeper in love with you myself, then. Show them all what they are missing.” Jonathan decided.

But the answer made Damian stop. Jonathan took a few steps further before stopping and turning back himself. Damian watched as he glanced over Damian’s shoulder, no doubt at Jason’s lurking form. “Why?”

Jonathan looked back. “Why what?”

“Why are you so keen?” Damian demanded. “You know nothing about me.”

Jonathan blinked, and that shine in his eye was back. “Of course I do.” Jonathan said simply. “I know a lot about you.”

“How?” Damian asked. “Your father?”

“No. By our own interactions.” Jonathan shook his head. “You don’t remember, and that’s fine. It’s not important, really. Maybe one day you will.”

“When did we interact?” Damian snapped. “When did we meet?”

“As children.” Now Jonathan frowned, glanced at the ground. “But if you don’t mind, I don’t wish to talk about that now. That’s not what today is about.”

Damian crossed his arms. “What is today about then, if not to get to know each other?”

“Get to know each other, yes!” Jonathan agreed. “But as we are now, not as we were.” He took a step towards Damian. “Maybe another day, when you trust me more?”

He almost sounded like he was pleading, and Damian couldn’t help but narrow his eyes. “Who says I ever will?”

Jonathan laughed again, bowing his head in admittance.

“Like I said, who knows how this will turn out. I’m hopeful, but have been wrong before.” He smiled. “But that is neither here nor there, and I won’t bring it up again. The future doesn’t matter, only today does. So let’s get back to it, shall we?”

Damian pursed his lips in thought, vaguely sensed the flower tucked behind his ear.

“Fine. Let’s.” Damian nodded, stepping off. Jonathan’s face lit up as Damian returned to his side and they continued their quiet stroll through the woods.

Jonathan kept his promise, he kept his romantics to himself the rest of the day. Instead, they talked about typical things. Not love and coups and kingdoms, but food, books, battles. Jonathan, it turned out, enjoyed cooking. He spent much of his time in Krypton attempting to recreate the recipes he was taught when they travelled to share with his court. He also loved competing, and learning a skill when it bested him.

Damian asked about the bloody armor he had from the day before. Jonathan admitted is was from an attack on Krypton right after his father had retaken the throne. He didn’t like war, or the constant fighting around the lands, but recognized the need to take part when he had to, especially when it came to protecting the innocent.

Jonathan asked about his own skills, especially by being the son of the notorious Talia al Ghul. Damian explained that was what was so silly about this suitor business – he could protect himself. Always has been able to. Just like his siblings.

He then talked about his family. How his siblings were all adopted, but it’s not like you could tell, since they all looked so alike anyway. Richard was adopted by his father, Jason by his mother, and Timothy and Cassandra after the two were married. Damian had been an accident.

Their rendezvous was supposed to finish by midday, but they were so distracted by their winding conversation that they did another two laps around the forest path, before making their way back into town in the late afternoon. Absently, Damian noticed when Richard joined Jason, but otherwise continued to ignore them.

He could also see the townsfolk all whispering already. Gleefully talking about how handsome Jonathan was, how close the two were walking. He even heard a few talk about how warm his own smile was, and how relaxed he looked.

He ignored them too.

As the sun went down over the hills in the west, he found them nearing one of the castle’s gates and decided to end their meet for the day.

“Shall we see each other again?” Jonathan asked after Damian said so. “Have I proven myself to be worth even a second of your time?”

Damian let himself have a small smile as he crossed the gate threshold and turned back. “I suppose we can. How long are you staying in town?”

Jonathan shrugged. “As long as I need. Unless I get a letter from Krypton or something, I have nothing urgent to return to presently.”

“Alright. Where are you staying, then?”

“The tavern a few streets away.”

“Okay.” Damian smirked. While the day had been pleasant, and Jonathan an interesting companion, that didn’t mean he wasn’t still going to have his fun. “I’ll come find you when I wish to see you again.”

Jonathan gaped for a moment. “And when might that be?!”

Damian just kept his grin. “Whenever I feel like it. So, if you’re actually serious about this. I suppose…well, don’t leave town.”

Jonathan stared for a moment more, then let out a bark of a laugh. “You’re cruel, Your Highness.”

“So I’ve been told.” Damian agreed cheekily. He turned to walk away, but:

“Damian.”

He hesitated and glanced over his shoulder. Jonathan was still there, looking down at his hands as he clasped them together.

“I…would like to apologize, for yesterday.” Jonathan muttered. “I didn’t mean to potentially embarrass you in front of your court. I only wanted to get your attention, by any means necessary, which was selfish of me.” He bowed his head. “That…is not me. Not really. Today, though, that was me. I promise.”

“No, it wasn’t.” Damian countered. Jonathan looked up, confused. “You never explained how you made the flower, how you know me, or why your eyes sparkle – and yes, I noticed that. You’re still hiding something of yourself.”

Jonathan lowered his head once more.

“But we all have secrets, I suppose. Masks we wear on occasion.” Damian relaxed his shoulders, and touched at the flower still behind his ear, still as fresh as the moment Jonathan gave it to him that morning. “So…all is forgiven, Sir Jonathan.”

Jonathan perked at his words. After a moment of silence, he stepped forward again.

“Damian?” He asked softly. Damian hummed in response. Without warning, Jonathan took hold of Damian’s hand and leaned forward, pressing a quick kiss to his cheek. He lingered there for a moment, breath brushing Damian’s skin as he whispered, “Thank you for a lovely day.”

As quickly as he approached, he retreated, backing up until he was almost in the street.

“Until next time, Your Highness!” He called as he raised his hand. And in a flash, he was instantly lost to the evening crowd.

Damian was left blinking owlishly at the gate threshold. As he heard Richard and Jason approach on their horses behind him, obviously coming into the courtyard from another entrance, he looked down at his hand, the one Jonathan had held.

A purple rose sat against his fingers.

He looked back into the crowd, looking for even a glimpse of that black hair and violet eyes. There was nothing.

He swallowed thickly. This was supposed to be a game. Damian wanted it to be a game. He wanted to break Jonathan down and send him back to Krypton weeping.

He’d wanted that.

Now…so quickly…he wasn’t so sure. He wasn’t so sure what he wanted. Wasn’t so sure if it was a game. And if it still was, who was winning.

“…Until next time.”

[a-libra-writes]

Salt & Snow - Chapter 6

Ships: Ned Stark x Reader, Brandon Stark x Reader (?)

Summary: Ned finally returns to his childhood home, to the happiness of his siblings and Y/N ... though she’s also beside herself with nerves. As it turns out, the two of them are awkward teenagers.

Use this chrome extension to replace “Y/N” with a different name :)

“That’s the last of it, milord.” The servant tightened the leather straps on the wooden trunk, ensuring they were secure. Once satisfied, he nodded to the guide that would be taking the young Lord Stark down the mountain. The man was withered, but he expertly steered his mules, or so they said. Ned hadn’t realized how many possessions he’d collected in his years in the Eyrie, and felt bad for making the beasts carry so much.

The old mountain guide said it was fine, and it wouldn’t unbalance them. “You worry about stayin’ on that mule, milord. When’s the last time you descended?”

He thought about it. “Four years, mayhaps more.”

“Aye, it’s much the same. It’s still spring, it will warm quickly as we go down.” The old man guided him to one of the mules, a shaggy, dark brown one with long ears. Ned thought it was cute in an ugly way, and climbed up. He kept his eyes forward, ignoring how the Eyrie hung above them. He remembered the first time he climbed up here, terrified he’d fall the entire way, and then afraid the Eyrie would somehow fall from the sky and plummet to the ground.

I’ll be the one doing the plummeting, if this beast missteps. Ned was mostly, probably confident that wouldn’t happen. He wondered what sort of mule they gave Robert, the beast of a man. He couldn’t imagine his friend sitting quietly for the better part of the day. That thought made him smile a little, and sigh. Robert left a month ago, and now it was his turn. It was a bittersweet goodbye to Robert and then to Lord Arryn. The first month I couldn’t stop thinking about Winterfell, how I wanted to go back. It hurts to leave now.

It hurt, but it was time to go. He wanted to see his family again, to see Winterfell, and the godswood, and Wintertown and the forest surrounding them. He’d smell pines and fresh earth again — gods know the Eyrie sorely lacked in both — and the animals that ran through those woods. He wondered what had changed, what was the same.

Suddenly, Ned recalled a letter where Y/N described the repairs on one of the towers, the old one that was slowly crumbling. That made him remember the last one he sent, and he covered his face with a groan.

“Doing well, milord?” The guide asked, looking back. “Don’t look down.”

Ned merely nodded, glad the guide and the other servants were too busy navigating to notice his stupid face. Why had he written that? Why did he send it? She must be think he was an utter fool. She hadn’t even sent anything back yet.

No, letters are slow to the Eyrie, and I’m leaving, besides — perhaps it was lost.

The thought of Lord Arryn receiving it and sending it back was mortifying, even if the man would never read it. For days Ned’s mind had been racing about Robert’s departure, his own journey, and the stupid words he wrote down. He’d repeated them so many times in his head, hoping he was misremembering.

He groaned and laid his head on the neck of the mule. It smelled awful, but he stayed there. Y/N must have thought him a complete fool, how would he face her once he came home? It would be a long, long journey.

What in the seven hells did he mean by that?

Y/N stared at the words, her eyes running over them, which was a pointless act. She’d memorized these lines in particular, able to recall them in spite of her attempts to keep busy. She hadn’t responded, because how could she? Anytime she sat down and began to dab her quill, the butterflies battered against her stomach. She’d set her quill on the page, watching the ink soak into the paper, but Y/N only managed a few sentences before fumbling, misspelling a word, dripping ink everywhere and just giving up. She’d thrown several pages into the fire already.

I’m being ridiculous, I’m overthinking. Aren’t I? Hasn’t he always said kind things to me? Why is this different?

A week ago, Y/N dug through her box of letters saved over the years, hoping to assure herself. That was a mistake. She read through things she’d forgotten, phrases she remembered, looked over the little drawings he attempted, and her butterflies became relentless. She had to put the letters away and spent the entire day flustered and distracted.

She rubbed at her face and sighed heavily. She put the letter out of sight, knowing it wouldn’t be out of mind for a while. She ought to stop procrastinating, to send something back already; it’d been almost three weeks. Or was it four? She’d been procrastinating with everything imaginable — long boring books, needlework, studying maps, playing music, even riding.

I have to answer eventually. I really am thinking too much. Just write something safe! Something boring!

Instead of doing that, Y/N left her room and looked for something to do. Perhaps if she could talk about her feelings it would help, but she couldn’t. Not even to Lyanna. Her friend had stopped reading the letters, preferring to send her own, and Y/N was sure they weren’t as frequent… That, and she couldn’t imagine letting anyone read what she wrote or drew now.

Is it strange, how often we write? Has anyone noticed?  A little voice nagged at Y/N. She and Ned were well past the age of innocent friendly correspondence. She didn’t speak much about it, secretly worried she’d be told to stop. The idea of getting “caught” wasn’t pleasant, but the idea of stopping was worse. The correspondence had become a comfort, a way to raise her spirits, warmth and confidence in her heart. She understood how some would find that emotion improper.

A servant hurried past Y/N, nearly hitting her and knocking her right out of her thoughts. The boy called an apology and kept running. In the great hall, she saw half a dozen men moving boxes, and one of the elder servants giving them orders. Savory smells came from the kitchen, and peaking inside, Y/N saw the cooks and their girls busy chopping and stewing.

She tried to recall the last time Winterfell was this abuzz. The death of Lady Stark cast a dreary curtain over the castle, and while it was gradually lifting, a feast still felt out of place. Brandon was away again, but there was never a big to-do for his return.

“Found you!” Lyanna called to her, and Y/N jumped. It was absurd how much she’d been lost in her head as of late. She was glad Lyanna didn’t tease her; instead, the girl asked, “Why is everyone so restless today?”

“I was just thinking that. Did you see the kitchens? I can’t imagine why we’d need so much sausage and stew.”

“They’re making dessert, too! I’d ask my father, but I can’t find him anywere.” As they talked, Lyanna and Y/N walked outside to one of the many yards inside Winterfell’s walls. Just like inside, there was a flurry of activity, things being moved and cleaned. Lyanna said half the horses had been taken, perhaps on a hunt for fresh stag. A sudden thought struck her, and she turned on her heels to face Y/N, nearly knocking the girl over in the process. “Y/N, what if… what if my father finally decided—?”

“He didn’t,” Y/N replied instantly. “He would tell you, Lyanna. It won’t be a surprise. Maybe something happened and he’s gathering some bannermen on short notice; maybe it’s about Brandon’s wedding. He has been gone for the better part of a month.”

“That’s all true,” Lyanna said, although she didn’t sound comforted. “Perhaps Father is entertaining some ladies for him. Oh, gods, we’ll have to make smalltalk with them…”

They sat on one of the many carts strewn about the yard, following the activity. Predictably, Y/N’s mind wandered to Ned, and she kept her sigh from escaping. She glanced at Lyanna, half-listening to her friend chatter about a hedge knight that visited months ago. He showed off some jousting in the yard for their amusement, and Lyanna was still enamored. Y/N’s thoughts were wholly preoccupied with the terrifying idea of telling her about the letters, the ones that had gradually become far less proper and more personal.

Suddenly Lyanna asked, “Did you have any plans today?”

“I have a feeling if I did, you’d pull me away.” Y/N said. “Why?”

“Do you still have your old brown cloak?”

Those grey eyes were gleaming with some sort of mischief. Perhaps it was the restlessness of the people around them, or her own anxious thoughts… but rather than steer away from trouble, Y/N turned toward it.

There were small collections of cottages directly outside the walls of Winterfell, mostly farmers and butchers who directly served the castle, and offered board to travelers during the large feasts. But if someone really wanted to find something interesting, they’d go to Wintertown. These were the more prosperous smallfolk, the merchants, innkeeps, blacksmiths, and so on. There was even a small sept, although most Northern townspeople had little use for it. Y/N had come here only a dozen times; to go, she and Lyanna would need an escort, and Brandon wasn’t eager to follow two silly girls around.

As far as they were concerned, the matter of an escort was silly now that they were women. Lyanna had no fear as she put on an old cotton dress and her grey cloak, while Y/N wore her brown and black dress she saved for riding and a deep blue cloak. Y/N tucked her pearl and jewelry away, and Lyanna pulled her own dark brown hair out of its braid until it was all around her shoulders, wild and free. The girls snuck quietly out into the yard, avoiding servants and guards, then drew their hoods up once they reached the gates. They waited, then Y/N pointed. Three sworn guards were distracted with a complaining merchant, and they slipped past the gate.

Once outside, they kept their hoods up, but giggled to one another. After walking a mile, they came across a farmer on the way to Wintertown, and asked if they could ride in his cart. The old man squinted at them, trying to focus his gaze.

“Are ye girls the swineherder’s daughters? Jeyne and … Milly, was it?”

“That’s our names. Can you take us to town?” Lyanna asked, putting on a false voice. When the old man agreed, she grinned so broadly, Y/N had to nudge her and give her a warning look. They hopped into the back of the cart and chatted while it swayed and hobbled along. The last time, it was an hour of walking before a cart passed by.

It’s good to see her like this, happy again. Y/N thought, glancing to her friend as Lyanna chatted. It’s been a dreary six moons. Or has it been longer?

Lyanna hadn’t been herself the whole time. Since her mother died, everything was bleaker. For the first moon, she just wanted to stay inside. After that she’d go out riding for hours at a time, and for once, Lord Stark didn’t scold her for it. Sometimes she’d rage, pick fights with Brandon or a guardman’s boy. Sometimes she’d just stay in bed. Those days were always the bad ones, Y/N knew, and she’d stay with her, writing or drawing or doing needlework while Lyanna laid there.

They’d get far worse than a scolding if they were caught at this game, but she just wanted Lyanna to be happy again. Wintertown was in sight, and they thanked the old man and hopped off his cart, too excited to wait for his mules to take them any farther. Y/N took Lyanna’s arm so they’d at least stay together, and they were off.

Just like the last time they visited, the town was buzzing. Thoughts of Ned’s words and Lyanna’s sadness quickly faded in the back of Y/N’s mind as they followed whatever interested them. A girl half their height was herding a group of sheep through the middle of a wide street, a woman was selling bolts of impossibly colorful fabric and thread, a blacksmith was loudly working on a sword. The girls watched all of it.

“Wait!” Y/N patted Lyanna’s arm excitedly, distracting her from the molten-hot red sword and the hammer that was beating down on it. “Do you see that?” She pointed.

Lyanna squinted. “That stall over there?”

“Yes, let’s hurry! Maybe he still has some!”

“What are you talking about?” Lyanna laughed, but followed along. She quickly realized why Y/N was so excited: There was a variety of colorful, fresh vegetables, but more importantly… fruit.

“You buying?” The man asked warily, mistaking them for the lowborn girls they were dressed as. Back in their bedchamber, Y/N had to remind Lyanna to tuck away her direwolf pin. “I’m selling, not giving. You girls got coin?”

Y/N ignored his tone and asked, “Are these from White Harbor? My father worked the docks.”

“That so? He on one of the merman’s ships, or the ray’s?”

“The manta ray, at the Whitetide docks.”

The man grinned, showing some missing teeth. He nodded his head like he was familiar with this mystery sailor. “Aye, with Lord Caspian’s fleet? His ships are good ones. These fruit come all the way from Dorne and the Arbor, but they’re still fresh.”

Y/N could see that. Her heart was racing at the sight of peaches, oranges, limes, figs… of course, Lyanna’s eyes went straight to the lemons. She giggled and shook her head. “They’re better when they’re baked in cakes. Have you had an orange before?”

“Never. Let’s get some. Four, if we could?” Lyanna asked the man, and he handed them over. Four was all he had, and Y/N paid, feeling a little sorry for taking so many. She wondered if the common folk could afford fruits. This cold preserved them well.

They walked around the market idly, more interested in the treats they just acquired. Y/N taught Lyanna how to peel the orange and the wolf-girl was delighted with how sweet and juicy they were. “This is wonderful! Why aren’t we baking these into cakes?”

“I suppose someone tried, and it didn’t work out well,” Y/N mused. “My mother liked to squeeze them into her water, or she’d just drink the juice itself. When you preserve the peels and dry them, you can scatter them amongst your things to make them smell good.” She thought about her mother’s hugs, and her favorite parlor, and the strong smell of citrus and exotic flowers that permeated both. She was a Northern woman, but took to the wonders of Dorne and Essos and the Reach, little treasures brought in on her husband’s ships. It was how her father courted her: With baskets of fruit, tropical flowers, strings of pearls and giant conch shells. Y/N smiled, remembering how her mother lit up when she told her about it.

“I can promise you, my little pearl, one day you will have such kindnesses paid by someone who truly adores you.”

“You know so many things. All I know is passable dancing, and horses.” Lyanna said, breaking Y/N’s reverie, of which she was grateful for. The Stark girl rubbed at her chin where some juices at dribbled, and Y/N handed her a handkerchief.

“You know swords and lances well.”

“Aye, but I’m not allowed to use them.” Lyanna frowned, but it didn’t look like her mood was lowering. She eagerly bit into a second orange instead. Y/N sighed and put the handkerchief back into her reticule.

“Can I have the peels?” She asked.

“Are you going to put them into my riding boots?”

“Gods, I’d need a bushel to mask that scent.”

Lyanna didn’t want to throw her precious orange, so she settled for lunging and chasing Y/N instead. Y/N shrieked and ran, glad for the headstart: Lyanna had to chew and swallow her orange pieces properly before tearing after her. Lyanna’s old dress was short enough that she didn’t have to pull up the skirts, but Y/N had the lighter cloak. She shrieked again as Lyanna grasped for it, but missed. “I’ll get you for that!” The girl hollered. “Come back, Y/N!”

They laughed and chased each other around the town like children, and no one cared. Some older women noticed and scowled, and a few children laughed and followed for a while, but no one stopped them. No one grabbed their ears and admonished them for the messy hair, dirty clothes and sticky orange-flavored fingers. They were little girls again, not proper ladies of five and ten, daughters of Stark and Caspian.

Y/N stopped suddenly, then yelped as Lyanna tackled her to the ground. She squirmed and coughed. “Lyanna! You’ll kill me!”

“Don’t start fights you can’t finish!” Lyanna responded. She realized Y/N was still winded and moved off her. “Oh, are you hurt?”

“No,” Y/N sat up and blinked the dust out of her eyes. Satisfied, Lyanna flicked an orange peel at her. Y/N picked it off her lap and ate it. Lyanna made a face, like Y/N just ate the peel of a lemon — then she remembered she saw her friend do that, too.

“Do you hear that?” Y/N asked. It was the entire reason she stopped. Both girls kept still and listened. They were on the edge of Wintertown, their game taking them to the very end of it. Out here was a few modest homes and small gardens, a crumbling wall, and the road leading to Winterfell.

“Horses,” Lyanna said. She listened. “Several of them, moving at once. It’s probably a retinue.”

“Is it Brandon? I can’t recall when he was supposed to come home.”

“It would be bad for Brandon to find us like this and tell father,” Lyanna said, but she laughed. She was like her old self today. Suddenly, she said, “Oh. We should have saved an orange for Ben.”

“But not Brandon?”

“His Lordliness can get fruit whenever he wants. He can ride to the Reach and pick it himself.” Lyanna scoffed. She stood up, pulled Y/N to her feet and they both dusted their dresses and cloaks off. The horses were closer now, easy to hear without them staying quiet. It had to be Brandon, or a nearby lord. It was too much commotion for farmers bringing food.

The girls walked to the crumbling wall and crouched down, eager to peek at the banners. They weren’t foolish enough to openly stare, even if this was Wintertown, they weren’t entirely safe. Y/N had a vague thought that Lyanna might have a dagger in her boot, but that wasn’t real protection. She kicked herself for not bringing something of her own, even if she had no idea how to use it.

“They’re taking their time,” Lyanna muttered. “Has to be a lord. A lordling wouldn’t bring so many wagons, and a merchant wouldn’t be so slow. If it is Brandon, let’s throw rocks.”

“Let’s not.”

“Fine, a single rock. I won’t hit his horse, she deserves better. It could always be Ser Roderick, or the Pooles. Maybe even Cerwyn —”

Y/N pulled her back, lower against the stone wall. “Shh.”

Two horses passed, carrying modestly protected Northern guards. Then four more guards followed, dressed in different leather and armor. Y/N squinted, not recognizing the arms on their surcoats. It wasn’t anyone sworn to House Stark. Then, what they wanted: The banners.

One man held a direwolf, and another one held a blue falcon. Lyanna shot up, and Y/N stumbled, as she was still holding onto her.

Then she looked up, and jumped to her feet just as Lyanna had. They both stared.

It was Brandon, as they guessed, and someone else. They rode ahead, followed by a few more men, one of them a fully-armored knight who wore the crest of a sky-blue and white falcon.

“Ned!!”

Lyanna was gone. She tore across a small field to the road, and the guards stopped all at once, their hands flying to their hips. That action snapped Y/N to attention, but she could only stand and stare. She watched the boy — no, young man — beside Brandon turn in his saddle, and his grey eyes lit up with surprise and happiness.

Y/N thought someone was sitting on her chest, then something was trying to get out of it. She was choked up, the world was spinning, and she could barely hear the words Lyanna, Ned and Brandon were all saying. Lyanna nearly jumped up on the horse, but Ned swiftly dismounted. He only had a moment before he was being strangled in a hug.

Brandon got down from his horse and said something to the guards. The horses shook their heads at the commotion but Lyanna shouted again, and two of the knights laughed, and Y/N was still.

Then Ned looked up over his sister’s head, and met eyes with her. Y/N took a step forward, then another. She forgot she was wearing an old dress, a cloak that was now dirty from running about, that her hair was out of a normally tamed and styled braid. Ned held out his hand, as though she was close and not ten or fifteen feet away.

Y/N shyly walked down the field to the road, trying not to look at the guards, or Brandon. Lyanna pulled away from Ned and grabbed her arm, pulling her the last two feet. “What are you doing, Y/N? Come over here!”

She was pushed in front of him. He was different in some ways, but not many. Brandon towered above him and Lyanna was just a little shorter. Y/N smiled at that, but quickly looked to her hands, which smelled of oranges and still had a little stickiness on them.

“It’s good to see you again,” Y/N could only say. She thought of all the clever and interesting words she sent before, and how they were failing her horribly now. Her mind scrambled for something to say, something she had written before, something good, but it was all jumbled.

She didn’t look at Ned as he replied, “It’s good to see you too, Y/N.”

It was quiet, like they were the only ones, but that was quickly interrupted. Brandon was beside them, loudly teasing, “It’s Lady Y/N, brother. I thought the South was supposed to teach you all those stuffy manners.”

“She’s always been Y/N to us,” Lyanna rolled her eyes. “More importantly, were you and father keeping this a secret?”

Her brother replied with a small smile. “Yes, it… it was supposed to be a surprise. I never imagined we’d meet you here.”

“And why are you two here?” Brandon crossed his arms. His good humor quickly left, as if he just took in their location and their clothes. He looked at Lyanna, then Y/N, and kept his attention on the latter. “Did you sneak out without a guard? Do you know how dangerous that can be? And why are you dressed like that?”

Y/N self-consciously pulled at her cloak as he questioned them, remembering the state she was in. Brandon’s words didn’t bother her, it was the realization that Ned hadn’t seen her in years, and this is what he saw as soon as he came back. Didn’t I have silly daydreams of him seeing me in the gown I made, or a new one? Why am I even thinking about that?

She was glad Lyanna and Brandon got into a little spat, to hide her embarrassment. She stepped behind Lyanna, half to shield herself, half to put some distance between her and Ned. She was steadily being overcome with an urge to hug him — wouldn’t that be natural? He was home now, but … it wasn’t that simple. So, she kept at Lyanna’s side, redirecting her attention on calming her friend.

“When I tell father about this, he’ll have words to say, especially since tonight he wants to hold a feast —”

“— If you tell him, I’ll tell about all that extra time you spend at the Rills!”

“It’s my job as heir to visit our bannermen and listen to their grievances!”

“Oh, yes, the pretty Ryswell daughters have much to say, I’m sure —”

Brandon went red and was ready to retort hotly, when Ned cleared his throat. He inclined his head to the men around them, all visibly impatient. Ned himself had some of that energy as he said, “Let’s go home.”

The way he said it, how could anyone continue to argue? Brandon stopped at once, knowing it had been years since his little brother had seen Winterfell properly. He patted him affectionately on the back, and Lyanna beamed. Y/N met eyes with Ned again, and they both turned away.

Brandon took his horse’s bridle. “Whose riding with whomst?”

“I’ll ride with Ned!” Lyanna blurted excitedly, and disappointment shot through Y/N so quickly, she felt a little sick. Don’t be stupid. That’s her brother, and she’ll just quarrel with Brandon, besides.

Brandon offered her a hand and easily swept her up on his horse. He asked if she was comfortable before swinging up himself, settling in like it was as easy as sitting in a chair. The problem is he put her in front, so his arms were loosely around her as he gathered his reins. Nervous as she was around these beasts, Y/N almost preferred riding behind him, although that was not always considered proper for a lady. Y/N had to hold onto him, especially with how far up she was. Brandon had a fine old destrier, once a great warhorse, still mighty and tall in her old age. She was perfect for taking him around the North, but Y/N thought she was entirely too big.

Lyanna happily settled in behind Ned instead of in front of him. Again, Y/N met his eyes. He had expressions that said so much, especially since he himself said little. She couldn’t read this one, though. Brandon called out, “Move on!” and the small escort went on the road. Y/N was thankful for the easy pace, and the steady gait of the destrier.

Her nervousness slowly settled as the four of them made conversation, with the Vale knight occasionally speaking up. Before long, the walls of Winterfell appeared before them, the proud white banners flying above. Ned looked up at the direwolf, and Y/N could swear some fatigue just melted right off him. The gates opened, and the guards keeping their station happily called to the boys, not noticing the state Lord Stark’s daughter and his ward were in. By the time their escort entered the yard, several servants, men-at-arms and children had come to see Ned come home.

Benjen pushed through all of them, eagerly running at his older brother. There was no shortage of hugs as Lyanna, Benjen and Ned reunited, while Brandon helped Y/N off the horse. Unlike his oldest brother, Benjen hadn’t developed an avoidance to his sister and her companion. He was only two years younger than them, and looked hurt as he said, “You all met him without me!”

“It was supposed to be a surprise,” Ned said again. “I crossed Brandon on the road by chance, and then these two—”

“Isn’t it a wonderful coincidence?” Lyanna grinned. She was still standing close to Ned, all but hanging off him. Y/N allowed Benjen to squeeze past her to get to Ned.

While the three chattered, Y/N asked Brandon, “You truly didn’t know? Where were you coming from?”

“Returning from the Karstarks. Father didn’t tell me a thing.”

Lyanna and Benjen began dragging Ned to the great hall, and now servants and guards started gathering, having realized who he was and all were eager to see him. Y/N smiled, pleased he was so missed… and only slightly glad he was moving further from her. She was anxious of what would happen if they were in a small group again, or worse, alone. She almost wanted to stay behind, but Brandon called to her, lingering back so she could catch up.

Being alone happened far sooner than Y/N anticipated.

The next morning, she stepped carefully through the snow, watching for roots just slightly sticking out. The sun was beginning to peak over the stone walls, helping her navigate the quiet yard. This route wasn’t yet familiar to her. She’d only made it recently, and often without Lyanna. Her friend wanted to mourn in quiet.

Y/N descended into the crypts. She shuddered instantly, feeling a far stronger cold take hold of her. Her footsteps echoed off the stone and she walked steadily toward her destination, passing statues of long dead Lord Starks and their sons.

Lady Lyarra did not have a sculpted sepulcher, but she had a beautiful tomb and marker for her bones. Y/N held her reticule close, bringing it to her nose so she could smell the crisp, dried oranges and give herself peace of mind. She hadn’t even visited her own family’s crypt.

She gasped as the shadows shuddered, nearly dropping the dried peels. The torches were scattered about, some not lit, making the shadows grow and recede with every second. She heard something just a few feet away.

Y/N bit down a curse as Ned came into view, the shadows circling around him. He blinked at her, his grey eyes almost looking black in the limited light.

“Y/N?”

“Y-You scared me,” She shuddered. “I didn’t — I didn’t think there would be anyone here.”

“What are you doing here?”

“I…” Y/N paused. She couldn’t seem to steady her heart, not with Ned looking directly at her. He was so much taller than before. She turned away. “I wanted to pay my respects. To give a gift.”

He didn’t respond right away. Y/N thought of the letters, of the reassurances, the kindnesses she sent him when he finally heard the news of his mother’s passing.

Why was it failing her now? She squeezed the fabric bag between her fingers.

“You brought something for her?” Ned asked quietly. “Could I see?”

Y/N nodded. She stepped closer, but not enough to feel any warmth from him. The cold of the crypt was cooling her nerves. “Orange peels. I dried them. They… they smell nice.”

She felt foolish, but he smiled. It was slight, but it was there.

“This way.” He said. He took a torch off the wall and led her deeper in. Y/N forgot how far it truly was. The Starks had been dying for centuries, and soon they would have to dig deeper into the cave to make space for the future generations. Lyarra was buried next to her parents, neither of who had a statue either.

There were fresh blue roses on the grave, and older, smaller blossoms that had begun to dry and decay. Y/N recalled Benjen brought those. She arranged the orange peels neatly, happy with the fragrance they gave off in addition to the roses. Ned must have brought those.

She quietly prayed, and Ned kept quiet beside her, perhaps joining her, perhaps not. When she finished, her hands fell to her side. Her cold, bare fingers brushed with Ned’s, and she felt the soft wool of his gloves. His finger hooked around one of her’s, and she curled it.

“Ned, I don’t presume to know your feelings, but I can only imagine how much you must hurt. If I could only help — if you were only right here, instead of far away —”

“When I home come, I want to see you, and do all the things we said we would do. I want to watch you paint, and dance, and maybe ride a horse — because I know Lyanna will make us — but most of all, I want to hear your voice.”

Y/N felt her throat was dry, but she stayed put, wondering if her heartbeat could be heard bouncing off the walls. She knew if she looked at him, even with a glance, she’d lose all composure and just run away.

She almost did that, when a loud noise made them both jump nearly two feet apart. Ned instantly took her hand back to push her behind him, then touched his sword. He grasped the hilt and lifted it just an inch out of the scabbard.

“Gods!” Y/N let out a hard breath. The skinny orange cat that knocked the unlit brazier over. It didn’t have coal in it, but it still made a terrible racket. The cat hissed and ran back into the shadows.

“I see he’s still here,” Ned mumbled. He set his sword back, and his shoulders were still tight. “Damned creature.”

“He gets lost down here so often. If he were kinder, I’d carry him out.”

“If it’s the same orange cat from when I was a boy, he’d rather freeze to death than be touched for even a moment.”

Silly smiles graced their faces, in spite of where they were, in spite of why they came in the first place. Ned nervously touched the hilt of his sword. “Shall we return?”

As they stepped out of the crypt, Y/N had to lift her skirts to climb the stairs easier. Ned offered his hand, and she took it for the last few steps. He didn’t immediately let go, and she didn’t comment on it. Instead she asked, “Did they make you learn those manners in the South?”

“There’s all sorts of manners and noble bearing they expect. It’s exhausting,” Ned admitted with a shy expression, and Y/N couldn’t help but imagine him trying some sort of silly, formal dance she’d heard about.

“Give me an example.”

He stared at their connected hands, his ears and cheeks slowly growing redder. Y/N didn’t pull away, even if her own body was threatening to explode with nerves and heat.

She expected him to kiss her hand, like she’d hear the other girls gossip about. She felt his warm lips against her fingers, through her thin gloves, and it made her jolt. Some of his brown hair brushed against her arm. I might well and truly die now.

Ned coughed and hastily turned away from her, utterly embarrassed at his own behavior. “Th-that’s what Lord Arryn… what Lord Arryn said to do when … when meeting a lady…”

“Are you kissing other ladies?” She couldn’t help it. She giggled, the warmth in her chest bubbling up to her lips. Her hand felt like it was on fire. “Should I be jealous, Ned?”

Ned covered his face with his hands, and she laughed. She covered her own face to settle her silly, foolish giddiness. “Of course not,” He grumbled. “You’re the only one I ever spoke to, besides.”

“Oh, you must have talked to some in the Eyrie.”

“Some.” Ned’s grey eyes glanced to her. She met his gaze, and they held it as he continued, “Though I kept wishing you were there.”

Y/N had to look away again. She couldn’t giggle, her throat was stuck, her chest hurt and she hated how tongue-tied she was. She never imagined it would be this hard — whatever this was —

“What in the seven hells are you both doing?”

Looking through her fingers, Y/N watched Brandon saunter up to them. The older Stark tilted his head to his brother.

Ned could only manage to suspiciously avoid looking at him. Brandon glanced between them, and Y/N felt like she had done something wrong. She quickly said, “We were visiting the crypt to pay our respects.”

Brandon’s face fell, and he said little else. Y/N understood it would be time for breakfast soon, and the morning sun had long broken over the tall stone walls. The three of them walked back to the keep together, Brandon pointedly putting himself between Y/N and Ned.

[bird-in-a-cage]

Frenulum

Apparently, according to Suzie Carmichel, Billy Hargrove had a dick piercing.

Steve had overheard it at a party, when he was busy in the kitchen making up a drink concoction that was mostly hard liquor and very little mixer. Usually he just ignored gossip, especially at parties where everyone is in a constant state of being somewhat drunk and because he had been the subject of a lot of gossip himself in the past, but that one. That one small line, half slurred over the kitchen sink and a now empty bottle of malibu, made Steve’s ears burn. Made his mind run a million miles an hour, self control long gone a few cups ago with whatever drink Tommy had given him when he’d first arrived. 

Tommy’s jungle juice was lethal but it got the job done. Fast.

With his own strange mixture Steve wandered through the party, brushing past bodies in different stages of sweat and sobriety, all bumping to the music that was loud enough to rattle the family photos on the walls, until he found the man in question outside in the yard. Sucking on a cigarette and nodding his head from side to side at the echo of the music. He had his own cup filled with god knows what, the leather jacket he came in long lost somewhere inside. Someone else was probably wearing it like a trophy.

Lucky them. 

Steve stood on the back porch, a little higher up from where Billy was stood in the grass nearby by himself, and pointed a finger with the hand that was holding his cup at the back of that dirty blonde mullet.

“You! I’ve heard a rumor about you.”

Billy just turned his head, eyebrow cocked, eyes glassy like blue marbles. They were both as gone as each other. Maybe Tommy had given them the same warm welcome even though it wasn’t his party. At least Steve didn’t think it was. He’d lost track of who’s house this was and on what street about an hour ago. Billy hummed around the cigarette between his lips as Steve made his way down so they were standing shoulder to shoulder.

“Suzie Carmichel knows your secret...”

Billy blinked heavily and stared at Steve. A curious expressional mix of confusion and I don’t care crossed his face at the same time.

“Who the fuck is Suzie Carmichel?” he spoke around a nearly burnt filter.

“You know. Suzie Carmichel. Big hair. Has that bag. Horses.” Steve explained with his hands, mimicking her blown out perm she always had. It was huge. Like a blonde cloud made of hairspray and hope. He couldn’t believe Billy didn’t know who she was. Everyone knew who Suzie Carmichel was. It was Suzie Carmichel. Billy just continued to stare blankly, took a swig of his drink in the silence before Steve waved his hands again to move onto the next subject, the more important one in his mind. “Did it hurt?”

“Wha’? This conversation? Yeah it’s pretty painful, pretty boy,” Billy grinned, flicking the spent filter towards a covered up trampoline pushed up next to the flowerbed. Probably to stop drunk party guests trying to bounce on it and hurting themselves.

“No! It. Did IT hurt?” Steve didn’t imagine it was a pleasant thing to get done. In the half hour it had taken to find Billy in kind of a small house it was pretty much all he could think about the entire time. A whole barrage of questions. What did it look like? Did it hurt? Why?  

Billy blinked again and sighed, glanced a look down at his cup as he rolled the dark liquid around inside, clearly contemplating a top up. “One last chance amigo and I’m headin’ back inside...”

Steve sighed frustrated. He didn’t want to actually have to say it in case it wasn’t true and then he looked insane, thinking about Billy Hargrove’s dick. Not that it would be the first time he’d thought about it but still, Steve didn’t need to admit it out loud if he didn’t need too. He squeezed his eyes shut and let the drink warm in his veins talk for him.

“Did it hurt getting your dick pierced?”

Billy’s grin was wild and hot when Steve opened his eyes again. The same look he got during a particularly rough basketball game, where everyone else playing was just prey waiting to be caught. It made Steve’s blood feel impossibly tropical, especially when Billy leaned closer, muttered into the shell of his ear deep and sultry. 

“Wouldn’t you like to know?”

Yes. Steve would like to know, that was the point in asking. But Billy was gone before Steve could follow up, disappeared back inside the house alive with the whole senior year. Steve felt abandoned in the backyard, answerless and alone. That had neither been a confirmation or denial and it just made the thoughts in Steve’s head worse and harder to hold onto. Especially in his inebriated state. No. He was finding out the real answer to this tonight even if it killed him.

Which if he was wrong, probably would.

The music changed from one synth track to another. Eurythmics making themselves known. Making the walls shake. Making bodies bump and grind. Making it harder for Steve to get through. A riptide of hormones. But Billy was nowhere to be found. Wasn’t downstairs anywhere either in the kitchen, or the makeshift dance floor of the living room that had spilled over into the dining room adjacent. Wasn’t in the basement getting high with whatever terrible weed was getting passed around the few stoner kids. And as far as Steve knew he wasn’t upstairs occupying one of the few bedrooms that seemed to be permanently engaged. Someone probably would have bragged by now. He tended to hear that type of gossip now he wasn’t in the highest levels of Hawinks hierarchy anymore. There may as well have been a ticket system in the hall with couples waiting to find one to use, so he might have at least seen. 

Whomever's house this was had better air the place out in the morning.

Steve didn’t want to seem desperate. But he was. He was also several cups of whatever was going deep and needed to piss pretty badly.

In his own defence, the bathroom door wasn’t locked when he pushed it open and saw Billy standing over the bowl finishing up, shaking out the last few drops. Steve would have been pretty mortified usually but Billy just glanced back and laughed before looking down at himself again.

“Didn’t realise you wanted to know that bad Harrin’ton,” he chuckled. “Should’a been clearer in askin'.”

“I’m not,” Steve lied. He couldn’t help but stare a little at Billy holding himself. Holding the answer to a million new questions. “You didn’t lock the door.”

“Maybe that was on purpose...” Billy rolled his head on his shoulder and smirked something wicked. Steve felt warmth pool in his gut that had nothing to do with the alcohol but had everything to do with those lips and darkening eyes. “You wanna see then? Since ya’ found me.”

Steve made sure to lock the door behind him when Billy cocked his head, beaconing him over. He leant back against the smooth tiled wall, still holding his cock and okay it was bigger somehow than Steve remembered. He’d only seen it in the showers though. And he wasn’t really looking. More a haphazard glance in the wrong direction than anything else when temporarily blinded by shampoo. Steve stepped closer in the small bathroom, eyes dragged down as Billy just lifted his cock up like it was no big deal to show off like this. To show off a three rung ladder of small black balls, clearly attached to bars, living either side of his shaft just under the head.

Seeing it made all common sense leave Steve’s head immediately. He’d never seen anything like it before. At least Suzie Carmichel wasn’t lying.

“Did-did it…?” Steve couldn’t get the end of his sentence out, just mesmerized by what was in front of him. Unable to take his eyes off it. Maybe sober it would have been a lot more awkward but here, in the cramped bathroom, there was nowhere else Steve wanted to be. Even if it did smell like piss and too much cologne and some weird floral perfume from coming from somewhere.

“Hurt? Yeah,” Billy chuckled, moving his hand so his thick fingers caught a little on the piercings, rolling them with his knuckles. It was impossible to ignore the way his cock twitched in his hand. It was impossible to ignore how Steve felt his mouth water. He blinked, trying to shake that thought away somehow but impulse was in control, no longer burdened by sense and a public filter. “Worth it though. Feels good.”

“Yeah?”

Billy nodded in that self satisfied way, just stroking himself now in a drunken haze. And Steve couldn’t stop watching as he got hard, somehow got thicker. It was nice to know Hargrove didn’t suffer from whiskey dick. Steve set his half empty cup on the edge of the sink and let curiosity take over, reaching across the short gap to brush his knuckles over one set of metal. They felt cool against his skin. Billy muttered out a shit at the small touch, so Steve did it again with his fingertips this time, rolling the smooth metal and brushing against the hot velvet of Billy’s cock, now completely hard as he let go and let Steve take over. He wrapped his hand around and gave a few tentative strokes, noting how the piercings felt against his palm, how he could feel the connecting bars if he squeezed a little, being careful not to drag or twist too hard. Whatever Steve was doing was clearly working, Billy’s eyes were hooded and heavy, his head rolled back against the white tile of the wall.

"Knew you had pretty hands for a reason," he muttered breathless, filled with lust, starting to rock his hips into Steve’s fist.

Steve couldn't help but chuckle a little, changing his grip again to roll his palm over the head that was quickly getting slick, spreading it back down to Billy’s thick base to make everything go easier. He made a point to really press his thumb between where the balls were connected to each other, rolling over the bars that lived under his skin. That had Billy practically purring, gripping Steve's shoulder with one strong hand, moans echoing throughout the room.

"You been starin' at my hands Hargrove?" Steve spoke with a grin. It felt good to have both the upper hand and to have the other boy so pliant for once. All bark and bite completely dissolved. Like he had found a secret ‘off’ switch in those tight jeans. In return Steve’s own jeans had become incredibly tight, his hard dick pressing up painfully against his button fly, almost threatening to pop the buttons free.

"Fuck-ah-h-hard not too. You talk with 'em a lot."

Billy practically melted when Steve swept his thumb through the weeping slit, gripping the opposite shoulder harder so there would be a bruise under Steve’s shirt in the morning without a doubt, letting out a noise that would surely be heard through the door by someone. Not that Steve cared anymore. Or really cared to begin with. He'd never admit it, but he thought about this a lot. Not just having Billy in his hand and falling apart so easily, but being able to shut that smart mouth up for once. But now with the piercing discovery he had something new to add to the little fantasy, well, memory now. They were hard not to play with every stroke up or down. Just there to apply pressure too, to see what new noise he could get out of Billy’s pink mouth. 

But there was still one question left, bubbling up in Steve's mind and popping out of his mouth before he could stop it.

"Anyone ever blow you with 'em?"

Billy chuckled around a moan, both noises getting confused in this throat, but it sounded amazing. Made Steve’s dick kick harder. "You wanna try suga’?"

Not an answer. But Steve would take this one. Even as drunk as he was, he doubted any of this would leave the bathroom. The same way things never left the locker room. His knees hit the floor with a heavy thud as he settled between Billy's legs. Another set of bruises for the morning. He rolled the tip of his tongue around the little metal balls first, to see how they would taste. Musty. Like Billy’s smell. But not unpleasant. Like licking over a ring. A fist was heavy and tight in his hair in an instant. Not pushing or pulling. More bracing. Holding something that wasn't smooth so could be held.

Hargrove was a tight fit. Or Steve was out of practice since Carol came along and took up all Tommy’s time. Probably both really in all honesty. Steve's lips stretched something obscene taking down as much as he could, using plenty of spit cause Billy looked like he was into anything but clean and neat, pressing his tongue wide and flat over the piercings, rolling them with a little swallow that had Billy barely able to stand. Steve could taste his tongue getting more and more coated.

Billy didn't taste half bad, surprisingly. Not good, but not bad.

Duran Duran started coming through the floor. Hungry Like the Wolf. It seemed appropriate. Steve pushed Billy's hips back flat against the wall to stop him from moving, he was rolling on the balls of his feet within his boots and it was threatening to become an issue.

Not that he would mind Billy's thick monster destroying his throat, but breathing was still important. Maybe another time. If that would ever be a possibility.

It was less than a minute before Billy's fist got tighter, pushed Steve back so just the head of his cock throbbed on the taller boy's tongue as he came in ropes. Painted the inside of Steve’s mouth, threatening to bite through his own lip to contain some of the guttural noise that erupted from his throat just watching it happen with laser focus. Steve swallowed most of it, but there was a lot, some dripped down his chin and into the collar of his polo, leaving a strange stain. He nearly popped being used in such a way. His briefs felt damp.

It had been a while.

Billy panted as Steve got back to his feet, took a swig of his drink to wash the bitter taste out of his mouth, getting his hand batted away when he reached out to keep playing with the piercings like he was magnetized. 

"God, give a guy five would ya?" Billy tucked himself away, zipped up his jeans loudly, but didn't sound annoyed. It sounded more like a proposal.

Steve shrugged with a grin, biting the rim of his plastic cup and leaning up on the sink. He still needed to piss after all, just now it would be a lot harder. Billy patted his shoulder and went to leave, just unlocking the door before saying something over his shoulder that was definitely a proposal.

"If you’re still hard in twenty you can find out how they feel gettin' fucked."

[what-is-your-plan-today]

Riding High Ch1: Jodhpurs and Jeans

Chapter Summary: Frank Adler is a single man in his early 30s, simply doing his best to raise his genius niece Mary. After a passing comment from his well-meaning neighbour, land-lady and friend, he decides that before he enrols her into school she needs to learn some social skills and pick up a hobby to help her interact with kids her own age. 

Felicity (Fliss) Gallagher is a single woman in her early 30s. An British Olympic Gold Medal winning Showjumper who was forced into early retirement due to a nasty accident, she’s now settled in South Pasadena running Sandybrook Stables, an Equestrian Centre which provide both boarding and teaching services.

Mary decides she wants to learn how to ride… meaning the two of them meet for the first time

Chapter Warnings: Bad Language words. 

Chapter Pairings:  Frank Adler x OFC Fliss Gallagher 

A/N: So yeah, this one’s been buzzing in my head for AGES now. As you all know, I’m a Brit so I’m REALLY sorry if too much British horsey lingo slips into this…ASK away if you don’t understand. As means of an explanation in the UK we have 3 main types of stables. We have Riding Schools (which focus solely on providing riding lessons), Livery Yards (which are places where owners board their horses) and Equestrian Centres (which do both). After a bit of research it seems that EC also translates across the pond and means the same thing so…just bear with me on this and run with it!

Tagging all my SSB/CSI readers…if you want in or off the list PLEASE just tell me

As always I’m a ho for a REBLOG and COMMENT!

And yes, the woman in the photos in the cover banner on and with the Chestnut is me and my wonderful, wonderful old girl who I lost 2 years ago…

Chapter Song: Driftwood by Travis 

Series Masterlist Main Masterlist

August 2017

 “I’m holding you solely responsible for this.” Frank short Roberta a glare as Mary bounced over to the truck, her blonde hair swinging slightly as she skipped.

“All I said was that it might be useful to have her interact with kids her own age before you throw her into a school, which for the record, I still think is a dumbass idea Frank.” “Input noted and duly ignored…” Frank rolled his eyes “She needs to go to school. Have some kind of variant on a normal childhood.”

Roberta took a deep breath and simply shrugged “On your head be it.”

“Come on Frank!” Mary shouted, standing up on the ledge of the truck “we’re gonna be late!”

“It’s 20 minutes tops to Pinellas Park…” Frank looked at her “We got half an hour, chill out Stack”

“My name’s Mary not Short Stack…” she sing songed back.

“Don’t I know it…” Frank said, looking at her before he turned back to Roberta “I’ll see you later.”

“Hmmm” she nodded, and with that he rolled his eyes again and headed to the truck.

“You know you’re not actually gonna get to ride anything today right?” he asked, turning to his niece.

“No, but I’m still gonna see the ponies.” she said, smiling. “Why can’t we bring Fred?”

“Because a horse might step on him.” Frank said, before he paused. “Actually, shall we take him?” Mary narrowed her eyes at him “That’s mean.” He chuckled, ruffled her hair and started up the truck.

******

“Ok, now soften your outside hand…” Fliss called out across the paddock, as the woman riding the tall, bay warmblood circled her “Yeah, you feel that. He’s taking the contact now, not leaning against your hand. So when you feel that softening, that’s when you need to push with your inside leg…and if is he isn’t listening a soft tap up with the stick…” She watched again from behind her Oakley wraparounds, smiling as the horse extended nicely down the long side of the school.

“Yeah, there you go!” she shouted encouragingly, “Now bring him round again and this time at the corner, pop him into canter…” She took a quick glance at her watch. She was running slightly behind, but what else was new? She would never leave a lesson, regardless, until her client had achieved something, even if it was what they dubbed a small victory. End on a high was her motto, and this was no different. Ever since Lucy had brought Jensen out of his stable, Fliss could see the horse was in one of his awkward moods so she’d had to switch out her plan a little. It had worked and he’d settled after about 15 minutes of being an obstinate shit and he was working quite nicely.

“Good!” She shouted, pacing slightly “Now let’s see if we can extend this a little…” Lucy sat up tall, pushed through her legs and the horse bounded down the side. Fliss grinned, less than 6 months ago Lucy hadn’t even been able to keep the horse in a trot, now here she was producing an extended canter. Moments like this made her job so worthwhile…

“Ok, bring him back down…” she said, “And into trot…and walk…”

Fliss headed over to her client and smiled as she walked alongside her “That was really good Luce…you happy?” “I’m over the moon!” The teenager grinned “I can’t believe it…he went so well!”

“Yeah because you rode him well.” Fliss smiled “You know, I seriously think you should consider a Dressage Competition.” 

“You think?”

“Yeah, I do. I know you don’t have a horse of your own but you can borrow Cap if you want…have a think about it.” “I will, thanks Fliss.”

Fliss smiled, gave the horse a pat and headed back to the gate.

“Joanne?” she called, and one of her grooms appeared. “Can you just supervise Lucy cooling him off. I’ve got someone bringing their daughter in at 11 am that should be here any time soon.”

“Sure.” Joanne nodded “Oh, they back barn has been mucked out but I’ve not had chance to scrub the water buckets out.” “It’s ok, you can do it after lunch” Fliss nodded. “the automatics are getting installed in a month or so which should make it a little easier.”

She patted Joanne on the shoulder and made her way into the office. Reaching for a file she dug out a Registration Form and a Liability Waiver and set them on the desk before she took a quick glance in the mirror. Satisfied that her auburn hair was tamed and there was no hay stick in it she nodded to herself and walked back on the yard, just in time to see a tall, well build dark haired man desperately trying to control a blonde haired girl who was looking around in glee and pointing.

“Hi…” she walked over, momentarily stuck by how damned good looking this guy was. He was dressed simply in a pair of jeans and a white T-shirt which perfectly accentuated his toned upper body. His chiselled jawline which was covered in a short, stubbled beard, soft spikey dark hair, and he flashed her a smile that made the corners of his aviator covered eyes crinkle. A smile that made her clear her throat. “I’m Fliss, you must be Mr Adler.”

Frank looked at the woman in front of him, glad that his glasses hid the fact he was blatantly eyeing her up and down. Dressed in a pair of long riding boots, tight navy blue jodhpurs with a white belt around the top, and a tight pink polo shirt he could see every curve she possessed. But it was the smile she flashed him that made him feel like some kind of teenage school kid again.  “Frank, please.” “Nice to meet you.” Fliss smiled before turning to Mary “And what can I call you Miss?” “Mary.” she said, looking up “Are all these horses yours?”

Fliss chuckled. “No not all of them. 9 belong to me. 3 are my personal ones, then I have 6 that work in the riding school and the other 6 are boarders.” “Oh.” she said, looking around. “So which one can I ride.” “Mary…” Frank chastised her softly as he looked down at her, before glancing back at Fliss “Sorry, she’s excited.” Fliss laughed and shook her head “It’s fine, I love to see it.”

She turned to Mary and then in an exaggerated whisper so that Frank could here said “I’ll let you into a secret, I always put the new kids on Monty because he’s awesome and looks after everyone…and he especially likes girls. He’s a ladies man. You wanna meet him?” Mary nodded eagerly and Fliss looked up at Frank, seeking his permission. He nodded and gestured with his head and she straightened up before leading Mary across the yard to the barn on the opposite side.

Frank stayed where he was for a moment, watching her ass as she walked before he mentally slapped himself and followed.

Fliss led them both into the airy barn, pushing up her sunglasses and down to 2 of the smaller stables at the far end. She stopped at one that contained a small, grey pony who gave a little nicker and stuck his head over the door.

“Monty, meet Mary…” she said with a smile as Mary gently reached up to stroke the pony’s soft nose. 

“He’s really pretty.” Mary said, appraisingly. 

“Yeah he’s awesome.” Fliss smiled, “And he’s a good boy too.” “Can I go in the stable?” Mary asked.

“Erm… if your dad says it’s ok?” Fliss looked at Frank who was tucking his sunglasses down the front of his shirt.

“I’m not her dad.” Frank shook his head “I’m her uncle.” “Oh, sorry.” Fliss frowned “I just assumed.”

“I get it a lot.” he said, waving her apology away “But I am her legal guardian so…”

Fliss nodded, studying him for a moment. There was clearly a bit more to that story but it wasn’t her business to pry.

“Can I?” Mary looked at him and he nodded. 

“Ok so, Monty is really good and nothing scares him but with all horses you should always be quiet and not jump or shout.” Fliss instructed and Frank had to smile as Mary nodded seriously. He hadn’t seen her this engrossed in anything other than books for a long time. Maybe Roberta had been right.

Fliss unbolted the stable door and walked in, leading Mary in after her. She showed her where he liked to be scratched and Mary giggled as she rubbed at the spot on the pony’s withers and he began to tilt his head to the side, lips moving against Fliss’s arm as he nuzzled into her.

“What’s he doing?” Mary asked.

“It’s called grooming.” Fliss explained “So he is mimicking what you’re doing to him to me, see? It’s how they show affection in the wild. Sometimes they can get a bit carried away and they nip but they don’t mean to be nasty or bite.”

She looked over to Frank, keeping one eye on the small girl who was engrossed in petting Monty and looked at him “So, are you just after her learning to ride then or…” Frank nodded “It’s a long story but, she needs a hobby and this was the only thing that seemed to get her excited. Of course it would be the one that will milk me dry…” he said, raising his voice a little.

“Spend less money on beer when you go out tonight” she shot back, and Fliss gave a loud bark of a laugh as Frank, shook his head.

“See what I gotta put up with?” he snorted.

“You should talk to my dad about it.” she laughed “I bled him dry due to horses as a kid, especially when I was up and down the UK competing!” “I was gonna say your accent isn’t local.” he said, smiling.

“Neither is yours.” she shot back “New England?” He cocked his head, momentarily surprised. He didn’t think his accent was that strong considering.

“Boston.” he nodded, “But I aint lived there in a while.” “I lived in Concorde” she explained, noticing his puzzled glance 

“Huh, no kidding.” he smiled “Cambridge.” “Nice state.” Fliss smiled “I loved it.”

“What made you end up here?”

Fliss hesitated for a while. “Erm..” “Sorry, you don’t need to explain, I was just a little curious.” “No, it’s fine just a long and complicated story.” Fliss said, scratching her temple “The abridged version is my marriage broke down and my mum and dad retired out here so I joined them.” She was avoiding his eyes slightly. Frank was smart enough to realise there was slightly more to it than that but he was tactful enough not to press. Besides, it was really none of his business.

“How about you? What you running from?” “What makes you think I’m running from anything?” he asked.

“Aren’t we all?” she looked at him, her deep brown eyes locked onto his.

He hesitated for a moment and then shrugged “Again, a long and complicated story but I wanted to give Mary a life away from hassle. And there was a lot of that in Boston.” He held her gaze and she simply nodded, before turning back to Mary.

“Ok Mary, how about we head into the office, get some forms signed and we can see about booking you in for your first lesson?” Frank watched as Fliss explained the importance of the kick-bolt on the bottom of the stable and showed her how to lock it before they three of them headed back onto the yard.

“Fliss, sorry to interrupt but do you want Cap and Bolt turned out?” a young girl with blonde hair approached them.

“Yeah, they’re not working again today.” Fliss said, “But take them one at a time. Bolt’s taking to being a bit bargey. If he starts wrap the lead-rope round his nose.” “Will do.” “Thanks Jo.” she smiled, and they continued walking.

“What’s bargey?” Mary asked.

“Pushy.” Frank looked at her “Bossy.” “Like you?” Frank shot her a look and saw Fliss smiling to herself as she overheard.

“Or it could mean pain in the ass like you.” he said. “Rude.” Mary shot back as Fliss opened the door to the office. Frank leaned over to hold it open.

“Thanks.” she looked at him smiling. He stepped in after Mary and they both stood, looking around taking it all in.

There was a large photo on the wall to the left, of someone, he presumed Fliss, on a horse jumping an obscenely high fence. On the wall at the back was a number of shelves, one containing files and the others a few more framed photos, one taken outside the gates to the yard of Fliss and a few others, he assumed her staff, and the other contained a number of trophies and a…

“Woah!” Mary said, scooting over “Is that yours?” “Sure is.” Fliss beamed, reaching up to retrieve the box frame. She led it flat on the desk and Mary scrambled up onto the chair to take a closer look.

The frame was split into 2. On the right hand side was a photo of Fliss dressed in competition gear, navy jacket, red piping, white jodhs and a navy hat. She had a smile on her face that was literally ear to ear and round her neck sat the gold medal which was displayed in the left of the frame.

“London 2012…” Mary read the small plaque at the bottom “Frank, look…” “I can see.” he said, surprise evident in his tone. He looked at the woman “You were in the Olympics?” “Yeah.” she smiled “Only one though. Trained for years to get there…”

“Why only one?” Mary looked at her.

“Mary.” Frank groaned “Stop being nosey.” “It’s ok.” Fliss chuckled “A few months later at the World Championships I had a nasty accident. I damaged my back and it took me nearly 6 months to recover. Sadly I lost my place on the team.” “Oh, that’s sad.” Mary looked at her.

“It’s a dog eat dog world kid.” Fliss shrugged “Not all bad though, I got into the training side of things which was great. Just didn’t work out.” There was a moments pause and Fliss replaced the photo and turned to Frank “Can I get you anything to drink?” “No, I’m good thanks.” he smiled.

“Ok, so…” Fliss said, “Mary I’m gonna need my seat back sweetie.” Mary obligingly jumped back down and Fliss took her vacated place, gesturing to the chair by the desk. Frank sat in it and Mary immediately jumped into his lap, her bare legs brushing slightly as she swung them to and fro.

“I have a few forms that you need to fill in and sign.” she said, apologetically “Legal stuff, contact details, waivers, that kind of thing. Safety is paramount at Sandybrook but, accidents to happen. Horse riding can be a dangerous sport…falls happen… as I know only too well.” Frank smiled and nodded.

“But I can give you those to take home, you can bring them with you when you come back.”  she said, reaching into her desk drawer. She pulled out a glossy leaflet and opened it. “Our price list is here. I’m not a huge outfit, I don’t have more than 3 kids on a lesson at a time. Mainly because I don’t have the horses but I prefer to focus on the students, not the profit. I try to keep overheads down as much as I can to keep the costs low…”

She bit her lip, she hated this part of the job, the sales patter as her dad called it. “So it really depends on what you want to do as to how expensive it is. Group lessons are $20 for 45 minutes and individual lessons are $30 for 30. I do always insist on an individual lesson first, but that’s discounted to $20 for the first one.” Frank nodded, it wasn’t cheap but they’d manage. He’d already explained to Mary that she wouldn’t be able to do it every week, but he could certainly stretch to once a fortnight.

“That’s reasonable.” he said after a pause.

Fliss smiled “I’ve only been 6 months or so now, but I’m planning on starting up a few Own a Pony days where the kids can come down and learn how to care for the horses as well as just ride. But that’s all in the planning stages.” “Well you have a good set up.” he said, and she beamed back.

“Thank you, a lot of graft went into setting it up. My mom and dad’s retirement didn’t start out quite as quiet as they had planned!”

“I can imagine.” 

“Ok,so…the real expensive outlay is gonna come at the start.” she said, turning to Mary “You’ll need some boots and a hat kiddo.” Mary grinned up at Frank.

“I do have hats I can loan for a few lessons but it is better if they have their own.” she looked at Frank. “It’s the one thing I don’t recommend getting second hand. But boots and jodhpurs etcetera you can pick up on e-bay and the like.” Frank nodded “And the hat?”

“There’s a great store not far from here…hang on…”  she dug in her drawer again and produced a flier. “Here… the kid stuff is pretty reasonable to be fair, you’re probably looking at about $30 for a decent hat but they’ll help you out. If you take my brochure in you’ll get a 20% discount too.”

Mary took the flier from her and began examining it.

“That’s really it.” Fliss said, as she completed her mental check list “So all that’s left is to either book you in or you can call me…” “Please Frank!” Mary looked at him “Can we book?” Frank nodded “If you want.” “I do…” “Ok…what availability do you have?” Fliss opened the laptop and entered the diary and looked for a free spot.” “Does Wednesday at 1 suit?” she offered “I know once school starts you’ll probably want a weekend or evening but. whilst it’s the holidays does that work?”

Frank nodded “Yeah that’s fine. I can jiggle work around” Fliss tapped on the keyboard and smiled “All booked. If you want to leave me your number I send a text update out the night before just as a reminder.” Frank smiled, and gave out her number which she stored in the diary slot and then clicked saved “All done…guess I’ll see you Wednesday.” “Thanks.” he smiled “And thanks for showing us around.” “Not a problem.” she shook her head “Always important the clients get the tour of the place, to make sure they like it.” “Its awesome.” Mary looked up “Can we go here on the way home.” Frank sighed and looked at Fliss raising an eyebrow. She laughed. 

“Yeah, get used to it. Once you get that horse smell on your hands it’s kind of an addiction.” “Frank hates animals.” Mary shrugged.

“I don’t hate animals.” Frank shook his head.

“You hate Fred.” “No, I don’t”

“You said before we should bring him so a horse steps on him.” Frank inwardly groaned as Fliss gave a chuckle.

“Fred is my cat.” Mary explained.

“Good name.” Fliss said “I have a few yard cats hanging around, they keep the mice at bay. And that reminds me, I haven’t seen Thor in a while…”

“Thor?” Mary looked at her

“Yeah, my dog…” she stood up and opened the office door, giving a sharp whistle. “He never goes far.” As if on cue a large german shepherd came lolling down the yard to greet them. Frank eyed the dog, it was huge. Mary, right on cue jumped down off his lap.

“Can I stroke him?” “Go right ahead.” Fliss said, she looked at Frank and spotting his face she smiled “He’s a softie, looks the part though.” “Well I wouldn’t mess put it that way.” Frank snorted, standing up.

“Is he named after the Avenger?” Mary looked up “I love those films.”

“Sure is, he used to have a brother called Loki too but, well he died.”

Thor gave Mary a lick causing her to giggle before he flopped onto his side raising his paw.

“He wants a belly rub.” Fliss said, and Mary dropped to her knees to give the dog a tickle. His tail began to wag furiously on the floor and Mary laughed.

Frank watched the girl, smiling. He loved seeing her like this. She was so grown up and serious half the time, he yearned to see her acting like a normal 7 year old. He was reticent to drag her away for that reason but he had work later that afternoon, a boat that needed finishing by Monday afternoon was taking him slightly longer than he had anticipated. 

“Alright short stack, we gotta move…” “Do we hafta?” “Sorry kiddo.” Mary made a face.

“Do you wanna go to the store or not?” Frank shot her a look. “Ok.” she said, jumping up and wiping dusting off her knees.

Fliss walked them to the truck which was parked in the car park and her eyes flew over to her horse wagon, a small 3.5 tonne box. Frank noticed her looking before she turned back to him.

“Yours?” he asked.

“Yeah, I did have a bigger one but, well I don’t use it often enough now to warrant it. Maybe at some point I’ll get back into competing…never say never hey?” He smiled.

“Ok, so I’ll see you Wednesday.” she said To Frank’s utter surprise, Mary walked over to the woman and wrapped her arms around her, giving her waist as squeeze, her head pressing into Fliss’s stomach. Fliss bent over to give the girl a quick hug and smiled.

“It was nice to meet you both.” Fliss released Mary and gently ruffled her hair “I can’t wait to see you ride.” Mary headed over to the passenger side of the truck and stood on the sill so she could yank open the door. Fliss turned to Frank and looked at him, frowning slightly.

“Sorry, was that too much? I just…well she…” “Oh,God,no…” Frank stuttered, hastily shaking his head. “It’s just…well she’s never usually that affectionate with strangers. Not that you’re a stranger I suppose, not anymore but…” he shrugged.

“I’m flattered then.” Fliss said, her pretty face cracking into a smile which Frank couldn’t help but return. There was a moment of silence where he simply looked at her before he started suddenly.

“I should…” he gestured to the truck with his keys.

“Yeah, sorry. Have a good day Mr Adler…” “Frank…” “Frank.” she corrected herself with another gorgeous smile “I’ll see you Wednesday.” With another  nod he walked to the truck and Fliss turned and headed back to the yard.

He climbed in and turned to Mary who was looking at him, smirking in a smug way that was well beyond her 7 years.

“What?” he demanded.

“You like her.” Mary snorted.

“She’s a nice girl, I mean woman…lady…”

Mary didn’t say a word, simply sat back as Frank reached around for her belt before doing his own and setting the truck into reverse. Sometimes she was far too observant for her own good. *****

“If she gives you any trouble just tie her up on the porch.” Frank said as Mary settled on the couch in Roberta’s trailer. Roberta snorted and Mary glared at him.

“The only one who gives me trouble around here is you Frank Adler.” Roberta shot back. “Now scoot, Mary’s gotta tell me all about this pretty girl at the stables she says you’re sweet on.” “Jesus…” Frank groaned “I’m not sweet on her, she was just nice.”

“He googled her.” Mary said.

“You googled her” Roberta intoned.

“I was curious ok?” Frank said “And you asked me to!” “She’s an Olympic Gold medallist.” Mary chanted, draping herself over the arm of the sofa, head hanging, hair brushing the floor “At London 2012 but then she had an accident in the World Championships later that year and she broke 2 vertebrae…she didn’t compete again. And she was married to a guy called John. He was on the US Equestrian team but they’re divorced now. He’s in prison…but Frank didn’t tell me why.” “Because it’s none of your business, and you don’t mention it to her.” Frank said sternly, cutting her off.

Roberta looked at him curiously “But you’re not interested in her. At all.” “Like I said, curious.” he shrugged “Especially if she’s gonna be teaching Mary.”

“Mmmhmmm.” Roberta dropped her hands to her hips “Whatever you say honey…” Frank sighed and then looked at Mary. “Be good.” “I will, see you in the morning…” 

He nodded and then headed out. It was a pleasant evening, the heat of the day had died down to an acceptable level and the 10 minute walk down to the small strip of bars wasn’t as sticky as normal. It passed fairly quickly, he was lost in thought about the woman he had met before. It had made for surprising reading, a child star on the circuit the accident had cruelly robbed her of a future in the sport 5 years ago, and from the sounds of it her ass-hat ex-husband had stolen 3 years of her life too. Still, as he had told Mary, it was none of their business.

He yanked the door open to Fergs and headed over to the bar. Ordering his usual he perched on a stool and pulled over one of the papers, flicking it open. Taking a pull of the beer he was handed, he let out a sigh. Friday nights were always his time, his one night of the week where he wasn’t Frank with the Dead Sister and the child genius niece to bring up. He was just plain old Frank Adler, perpetual bachelor that might or might not get lucky, depending on how the night went.

Half an hour or so later he was another beer deep and completely lost in his reading. So much so he was barely aware of the body besides him as it slid into the space next to him at the bar. That was until they spoke.

“So how much did she sting you for at the store?”

Frank grinned up at Fliss “Just short of a hundred. New hat, boots and a pair of jodhpurs.” Fliss giggled “Make sure she wears the boots in, they’re a killer for the first few days!” “I’ll bear it in mind.” he smiled “So, you hear alone or…” “Oh, no. It’s my Mum’s birthday so there’s a few of us out.” she said, glancing over her shoulder. Frank followed her eyes and settled on a table full of women who were all laughing. One looked quite similar to Fliss, same face shape and nose, who he assumed to be her mother. “If I’m honest it’s a bit boring considering they’re all over fifty but…” Frank laughed “Well I was gonna offer to buy you a drink but…” She laughed again “Thanks but, there’s a kitty going…” with that she turned to the bar tender. “Hiya, can I get 4 bud lights, a gin and tonic and a vodka soda please?” The bar tender nodded and headed off.

“Mary hasn’t shut up about Monty all afternoon.” Frank said and Fliss smiled.

“Like I said, once they get the bug they’re bitten.” “It’ll be good for her to have a hobby.” Frank repeated his earlier sentiment “She doesn’t get much interaction with kids her age.”

“Oh, what about School?” Fliss asked. Frank hesitated and took a drink from his bottle. Fliss let out a silent groan “Sorry, that’s really none of my business.” “No, it’s fine.” Frank shook his head, swallowing his beer. “She’s err, home schooled at the moment. My neighbour thought a hobby might be a good way for her to kinda do that before she goes to school.”

Fliss smiled “Well she’s not wrong. The kids I teach are great, I don’t stand for any crap, she’ll be welcomed with open arms.”

“Glad to hear it.” Frank smiled “Mary can be a litte…well, I suppose, odd is the right word. She’s old before her age.”

“Oh I know all about that.” Fliss smiled. “I spent most of my childhood training. Didn’t get chance to do much normal kid stuff. I was that focussed on my dream of gold medals…” “And you achieved it.” Frank nodded.

“Yeah, wish it had lasted longer you know, but what can you do.” she shrugged. “Hey, you never know, Mary might find a sudden hidden talent that catapults her into stardom…” Frank stiffened slightly and it didn’t go unnoticed by Fliss. She hesitated for a moment before Frank shook his head and smiled “Maybe, although that would really gonna fuck my bank balance…”

Fliss chuckled, eyeing him slightly. The man was a total mystery. At that the Bar Tender returned with a tray of drinks and she turned to pay him, waving away the change.

“Well, I guess I’ll see you Wednesday.” she smiled “Bye Frank.” “Yeah, have a good evening.” he smiled and she turned and walked away. Frank watched her go, the tight jeans she was wearing accentuated her ass and her legs, helped by the white heels she was wearing. The loose white cami top rode up slightly as she bent over to deposit the tray and when the woman he assumed to be her mother caught his eye and gave a knowing smirk he hastily turned around. 

“Another beer please pal.” he said, waving his empty bottle. 

“Who’s that?”  Verity leaned over to Fliss as she settled in the seat next to her.

“Oh, that’s the guy I was telling you about.” she shrugged “the one who brought his niece up to the Centre this morning.” “I know you said he was good looking but…” 

“Shut up Mum.” Fliss said, flushing slightly 

“You’re old enough to be his mother.” Jane, one of the other women said and the table laughed.

“I wasn’t looking for me…” Fliss rolled her eyes “Seriously?” Verity laughed and placed her arm round her daughter, giving her a squeeze. “I’m just teasing Lissy, its just nice to see you talking to someone, that’s all.” Fliss smiled and grabbed her beer, taking a drink. 

“Who the fuck was that?” John said, pointing across the packed bar to the man that Fliss had just smiled at.

“No one…” Fliss protested “Just a guy from work, that’s all.” “Right…” John said, the nerve in his jaw twitching. Fliss swallowed nervously and gently touched his arm.

“Honestly, he works at the stables. I was just being polite.”

“He’s eye fucking you.” “No, he’s not…” Fliss rolled her eyes and immediately realised what he had done when John gripped her chin painfully between his thumb and forefinger.

“Don’t roll your eyes at me.” he practically snarled.

“I’m sorry…” Fliss said, the tears springing forth “John you’re hurting me…” He let go and she dropped her head, turning back to the bar. She picked up her drink and took a long pull from the bottle, trying to compose herself. Her hand was shaking, she’d made him angry. 

And she knew what that meant…

“Hey…” her mother’s voice shook her out of the memory and she looked up at her. “Oh Liss…”

“I’m ok…” she said, taking a breath

Her mother looked at her again, and Fliss knew she was busted. “I was just…having a flash back that’s all.”

“He’s not here.” Verity dropped her voice “That fucker is where he belongs, behind bars and he won’t be bothering you again. Me and your dad promised you that…and we meant it.”

“I know, honestly I’m fine…” Fliss assured her mum who leaned over and gave her temple a soft kiss.

Fliss smiled back and shooting one last glance at Frank, who has his back to the table as he continued his reading, she turned to the women and threw herself into the conversation

 @the-omni-princess​​  @momobaby227​​ @geekofmanythings16​​ @angelofhell-666​​ @thewackywriter​​ @marvelfansworld​​​  @cobalt-gear​​  @asgardlover75​​ @jennmurawski13​​​​  @jtargaryen18​​​ @saiyanprincessswanie​​​  @navispalace​​​ @patzammit​​​  @joannaliceevans-fanficblog​​​  @icanfeelastormbrewing​​​ @djeniiscorner​​​  @ayamenimthiriel​​​  @coldmuffinbanditshoe​​​  @disneylovingal​​​ @madzmilllz​​  @sgtjaamesbaarnes​​ @sweater-daddiesdumbdork​​  @southerngracela​  @goldenfightergir​ @kellymat​ @official-and-unstable-satan​

[little-ligi]

Whumptober - No. 10

No. 10 - Blood Loss | Trail of Blood Fandom - BBC Merlin Wordcount - 1913

“Do try and keep up, Merlin!” Arthur barked over his shoulder.

“It would be easier if I wasn’t carrying all this stuff!” came the disgruntled shout from several yards behind Arthur.

“I’m a prince, I can hardly be expected to carry all the bags, now can I?” Arthur laughed, swinging his sword at a trailing bramble vine that was hanging into the pathway.

“You could at least carry one,” Merlin grumbled. “I’m not a bloody pack horse-”

There was a yelp, the crash of breaking undergrowth and a thud.

Arthur glanced over his shoulder. Merlin was sprawled half off the path, the packs strewn into the bracken and the bramble Arthur had cut down snagged on his breeches and twisted around his foot.

Arthur huffed a disgusted sigh, rolled his eyes and muttered “useless!” before trudging onwards. He could hear Merlin swearing and scrabbling about in the undergrowth but he ignored him and carried on along the path.

“Arthur?” Merlin had gone still, his crashing about silent. “Arthur, come and look at this.”

“Found a pretty flower?” Arthur teased, turning around to see Merlin intently studying something on the forest floor

“Not a flower. Not pretty,” Merlin answered, his voice wary. He looked up at Arthur, frowning.

The tone of Merlin’s voice put Arthur on edge. He adjusted his grip on his sword, bringing the blade up slightly into more of a ready position. He scanned the trees but nothing seemed amiss. He walked back over to Merlin.

On the ground just beside where Merlin had fallen was a pool of drying blood.

Arthur dropped to a crouch, pushing Merlin aside so he could better study it. There was a splatter across the roots and ferns, which were flattened and trampled, then the pool in an indent in the underbrush. The ground was so dry from the lack of recent rainfall that the blood hadn’t even seeped into the solid mud.

~They’ve left him for dead. The cut in his side is bleeding profusely, staining the ground beneath him dark red. He puts a hand to his side, feeling along the edges of his ripped tunic to the wound. It isn’t deep, but deep enough that the blood is seeping in a steady stream down his hip. He presses his hand down on the cut, hissing with pain.~

“Looks fairly recent,” Arthur commented, lightly touching his gloved fingers to the blood, it was still slightly wet, but was beginning to turn brown. He stood quickly, peering around at the forest floor. He spotted another smear a few feet away. “They can’t have got far.”

He started towards the other smear, it looked like the injured person had dragged themselves along the floor to a fallen tree. A dark reddish brown handprint was pressed into the rough bark of the tree and footprints mussed the ground. One footprint had blood printed into the tread.

~Rolling onto his good side, he crawls across the uneven ground to a fallen tree, resting against it as he pants, his teeth gritted, his side throbbing. He has to get out of the forest, find someone. He pushes himself up, stumbling on shaky legs, but manages to stay upright.~

“Merlin, quick, this way.”

Merlin didn’t complain this time as he scooped up their bags and slung them over his shoulders. Arthur stopped to take one, throwing it on his own back. He needed Merlin to keep up.

The trail of blood was still heavy, large splashes dotting the floor every couple of inches.

“They’ve lost a lot of blood,” Merlin said quietly. He pointed out a shrub, its leaves slick with blood as if the person had brushed past it.

~A few staggered steps get him a little closer to where he is sure the path is. Everything is spinning, the world tilts slightly as if he is drunk, which for once he isn’t. It is making it hard to determine if he is going in the right direction. He should probably try to stop the bleeding. He pushes through a shrub to a tree and leans against it.~

Arthur clenched his jaw. Merlin was right, the likelihood of them finding this person still alive was minimal. Arthur had seen a number of tournament injuries and battlefield wounds. There was only so much blood a body could lose before even Gaius couldn’t save them.

He pressed onwards, determined as ever to find them.

“Merlin, here look!”

A scrap of red-spattered grey caught his eye, snagged on a knot on the side of a tree. He reached to grab it, unhooking it from the rough bloodstained bark. It was a fragment of fabric, the edges torn and fraying, soaked with blood.

“They’ve bound the wound,” Merlin said, his voice rising hopefully. That gave them a better chance at least.

~His tunic is ruined anyway. He reaches to yank it over his head, letting out a ragged yell as the wound is pulled as he lifts his arms. A fresh gush of blood slides hot down his hip, dripping onto the ferns at his feet. He wraps the tunic around his waist, tying the sleeves together as tight as he can manage.~

They carried on through the trees; every now and then a drip of blood touched the edge of a leaf or a root. A red handprint smeared across a tree trunk. Arthur was reading the forest floor, seeing the broken branches, the squashed plants. A blood coated footprint.

“They’ve got strength,” Merlin said as Arthur pointed out another bloody mark on a tree. “To keep going this long…” He sighed. “Where do you think they’re trying to get to?”

“People?” Arthur guessed. He spotted a couple of snagged hairs on a low hanging branch.

~He is still shaky, but now the blood flow has mostly stopped, he finds he has a little more strength to walk. His progress is slow but steady. He isn’t sure how long he manages to stumble along but he still hasn’t found the path. His head is hurting; he smacked his forehead against a branch that seemed to loom up in front of him without him noticing. Darkness is encroaching on the edges of his vision. He trips on a loose root, pitching forwards. Catching himself on a tree he slides down, letting his knees give out. He’ll just rest for a minute…~

“There!”

Arthur caught sight of pale flesh amongst the green and brown of the undergrowth. They both ran forwards.

The man was slumped, half sitting, half lying, against a tree. His torso was covered in blood and wrapped in a knotted grey tunic. He had long dark hair, matted with sweat and sticking to his forehead and cheeks which were too pale.

Merlin let the bags he was carrying fall to the floor before he stepped forwards and dropped to his knees at the man’s side, his hands hovering over him.

Arthur quickly scanned the area, making sure they had not been followed and nobody else had tracked the injured man. The reassuring whistle of birdsong indicated no one was hiding nearby. He kept his sword out though, standing just behind Merlin.

“He’s alive!” Merlin crowed, his fingers pressed into the man’s neck.

“You’re sure?” Arthur asked, incredulously, he definitely hadn’t been expecting that.

“Definitely, strong pulse. He’s a fighter.”

The man stirred, opening his eyes blearily, frowning as he tried to focus on Merlin’s face hovering above him.

“An angel?” he muttered with a small smile.

Arthur let out a bark of relieved laughter.

“Sorry, no,” he told the man, clapping Merlin on the shoulder. “Just Merlin, servant not angel.”

“Servant and physician’s apprentice,” Merlin said, prodding gently at the blood soaked tunic over the wound. “I can help you.” The man groaned, his body reflexively curling up against Merlin’s ministrations.

Arthur watched as Merlin carefully untied the cloth, peeling it away from a sizable slash all the way down his left side. He reached back and pulled a waterskin from the bundle of packs he’d been carrying and tipped it over the wound, rinsing out grit and dirt. The man groaned, his eyes rolling back.

“Damn, I need some –” Merlin’s eyes darted around the forest floor, lighting on a plant a few feet away. “There, Arthur, get me that wild garlic, that plant, there.”

Arthur hurried to the little plant Merlin had indicated. He knew it; Gaius had taught him when he was much younger about the cleaning properties of garlic in a wound. It had saved him and his knights many times on patrols. He ripped it from the ground, dashing back over and thrusting it into Merlin’s hands.

“Give him a drink,” Merlin said as he started preparing the garlic.

Arthur crouched beside Merlin, bringing the waterskin up to the man’s lips. He seemed woozy, not quite conscious, but as the water touched his lips he fought to focus on Arthur’s hand holding the waterskin. He gulped greedily, some of water running down his stubbled chin.

“Easy, friend,” Merlin said calmly, placing a hand on his chest.

“I’m Arthur, this is Merlin,” Arthur said, for lack of anything else to say while Merlin worked on the wound.

“Gwaine–” he said through gritted teeth before crying out and arching away as Merlin pressed the wild garlic into his side. His hands balled into fists against the ground, crushing twigs and leaves. He whimpered.

“Sorry.” Merlin bit his lip and glanced back at Arthur. “Can I have your cloak?”

Arthur nodded, rummaging in the packs for the bundled up red cloak. He heard Merlin muttering something while his back was turned but he didn’t catch the words.

“Pretty angel eyes,” Gwaine mumbled, reaching a hand to Merlin’s face, his fingers lightly brushing his cheek, leaving a trail of blood on his pale skin. “Shiny, gold.”

“Oh great, he’s delirious with blood loss.” Arthur rolled his eyes. Merlin’s face had flushed bright red and he pulled his hand away from Gwaine’s chest. He looked over his shoulder guiltily at Arthur who smirked at him. Gwaine lolled back against the tree with another groan and Merlin snapped his fingers at Arthur.

“Cloak.” Arthur handed the cloak to Merlin, who stretched it out between his hands then held it up to Arthur. “Cut.”

“What?” Arthur spluttered.

“I need clean bandages. This is the best we have. Cut, please, my lord,” he added sarcastically.

Grumbling, Arthur swung his sword down through the cloak, shearing a thin strip off the hem. Merlin held it up again and Arthur cut another strip. Merlin wadded one strip and pressed it against the gash in Gwaine’s side, then tied the second around his torso to hold it in place.

“That’s all I can do until I get him to Gaius.”

“We’re taking him back with us?”

“Of course we are. You didn’t track the trail of blood all the way to him, just to leave him here to die.”

Arthur hadn’t really given it much thought beyond finding the person who was bleeding everywhere. He had truly believed to find them dead anyway.

“Alright,” he agreed, nodding at Merlin and standing up, brushing his hands off on his breeches. “Let’s build a litter to carry him.”

They quickly bundled together some branches, using what was left of Arthur’s cloak, to make a simple litter to hold Gwaine. Merlin, of course, ended up being the one to drag it, as they set off back towards Camelot.

[orihime00sama]

Tobitate! Hanafuda - Fate/Prototype Route

Hello!

This is a translation of the Prototype route of the Toraburu Hanafuda Travel Journal game included in the PS Vita version of Realta Nua, Team “Miss Ayaka and her Three Knights” AKA the Otome route.

This is my first time translating something like this and I’m far from being good at Japanese, so there’s a bunch of lines I’m not sure about. If you have any suggestion or correction, please let me know. I’ll also be linking the translations to the videos in case you want to check out the original (or just hear the voices).

——————

Sajou Residence - Part 1

Ayaka: Hello, everyone. To those of you who are new, nice to meet you. I’m Ayaka Sajou. It’s a long story, but I’m a Master in the Holy Grail War. My Master’s Degree is the Seventh. It’s the lowest, the weakest. Honestly, I want to quit right now, but the circumstances won’t let me. By the way, I don’t have any relatives. I lost my Dad in the previous Holy Grail War, and my elder sister who was one of the previous Masters is… well.

Saber: Ayaka, you didn’t check the mailbox yet, right? I’ll go do it. After that, let’s have some tea.

Ayaka: This is Saber. The first Servant I summoned and made a contract with. He’s the ideal good young man any girl thinks of, in other words, someone like Prince Charming[1]. He’s so perfect that it makes me feel uncomfortable. Also, he’s a bit of an airhead.

Lancer: Osu, good morning~. Oh, the fridge’s got a lotta ham, ain’t it. And there’s sliced bread and eggs and… All that kinda stuff, huh.

Ayaka: That’s Lancer. In the past, he was our enemy but now he’s a barbarian who lodges in our house and raids our fridge without permission. He may be a borderline trespasser, but he’s helped us out many times, so I’ve got no choice but to let him do it. Give and take, give and take. Besides… if you ignore his crude side, he’s the easiest to understand.

Lancer: Oh, you’ve got a serious face early in the morning, Missy. Back to your usual criticisms? Keep your self-hatred in moderation, ‘kay?

Ayaka: I don’t want to hear that from someone who rummages through our fridge with no warnings. Leave me alone. Lancer, are you off today?

Lancer: Ah, I’ve got no plans for today. I’ll tend to the Missy’s garden, or maybe play with the dogs.

Saber: Unfortunately, tending to the garden is my job. It is not your turn to act. Why don’t you get back to your original sheath, Lancer?

Lancer: I’ve been free from the start. But since the Missy asked me to guard[2] her, I gotta do my job. There’s still some unscrupulous bunch left around. Like, for example, a wolf[3] in prince’s clothing.

Saber: Bold of you to say that. Now then, is it an honour or an insult to be treated as a wolf by a wild dog? What do you think, Ayaka?

Ayaka: I don’t know! More importantly, what’s that envelope? There’s two of them.

Saber: Ah, it looks like they were delivered this morning. Here you go.

Ayaka: Err, let me see… “Are you familiar with the hot spring that can make any wish come true? Here is the oldest and best hot spot in Fuyuki City －However, only the wishes of the first group will come true. Please be ready.” … So it says. What is this, are they joking?

Lancer: Incredible… Is it an invitation to a Holy Grail War from another place? What, Holy Grail Wars can happen anywhere?

Saber: Doesn’t it have different rules from ours? Here, Ayaka, another one.

Ayaka: … This is a memo and … a ticket for the bullet train? Let’s see… “I’ll be waiting for you at the Fuyuki Holy Grail Hot Spring ♥" … They’re totally looking down on us.

Saber: So, the Fuyuki Holy Grail is actually a hot spring. Ours was a hellish cauldron, so I guess they’re not similar.

Lancer: A hot spring, huh, not bad at all. But well, this is up to you, Missy. What will you do? The other side even sent an invitation to make sure you’d go. Will you jump in?

Ayaka: … That… going by my life plans, I don’t want to go but… (Going by my feelings, it made me mad… Besides, if that hot spring that makes wishes come true is real, then…)

Archer: I have heard the whole story!

Ayaka: Archer!? Where did you get in from?

Archer: Obviously, from the window! Don’t worry about the little details, Ayaka! Else your cheek lines, lovely and beautiful as a flamingo, will fall.

Lancer: Is that a compliment? That’s a compliment, right?

Saber: What have you come here for, Archer? As you can see, we’re in the middle of a morning reunion. If you’ve come here to settle things, come back through the front door one hour later.

Archer: Hah, you fools. Are you even Heroic Spirits, those proclaimed to have no match on the earth? From the very beginning, we are those who bloomed on the battlefield. We respond to challenges, trample down our enemies, and gather treasures.

Archer: I don’t know about a war someplace else, but if it is a Holy Grail War, then it’s a given that Heroic Spirits would assemble. How can I call myself the original Heroic Spirit, the Senpai of Holy Grail Wars, if I don’t respond to this challenge!?

Ayaka: ………………

Saber: Hmph. As usual, you are a very hot-blooded man. If you want to fight, feel free to do it on your own. I’m against exposing Ayaka to danger.

Lancer: But being overprotective is also something to think about. The Missy these days isn’t as frail as you think, Saber. Or what? Are you holing up at home so you can keep her to yourself?

Saber: Wha－ I, I don’t have such impure thoughts often.

Ayaka: Let’s go! Saber, I’m going to this Holy Grail Hot Spring. Get prepared.

Saber: Ayaka!? Hah, it was already too late the moment you decided it. It can’t be helped, I’m not on board with this but I’ll accompany you.

Lancer: Missy, do you need your long weapon? If you need it, I’ll lend it to you.

Ayaka: Of course, come with us, Lancer. And you too, Archer. The four of us will conquer Fuyuki City.

Archer: Now you’re talking! As expected from my princess, you know the time to fight.

Ayaka: We’ll depart in 20 minutes. I have to go gather the bird feathers in the yard, so wait until then.

(She runs off)

Saber: Now you’ve done it, Archer. You’re always leading Ayaka down the bad path.

Archer: Good or bad is for Ayaka to judge. You cannot blame me. More importantly… Hey, lend me your ears. I have an idea.

Saber: ?

Lancer: Hn?

Archer: Hot springs are this land’s highest form of leisure. I’ve heard that they are summer resorts where lovers and married couples stay in. How about it? The one who does best in this expedition will get to be in the same room as Ayaka.

Archer: If it is a reward for the battle, even Ayaka who always has her guard up cannot oppose to it. And after your minds and bodies relax in a famous hot spring, the flower of romance will bloom.

Saber: …

Lancer: Incredible… Wait, this is all in your head, right? Didn’t you fail with terrible women?

Archer: It is unavoidable. To debauch is a king’s duty. I have the obligation of consuming fruit and flesh.

Archer: However, what I truly cherish is the one single flower. I’ve gotten tired of rotten meat and juice. Now, what will you do, Saber, Lancer? Will you take a knight’s oath?

Lancer: No, so we’re keeping it a secret from the Missy?

Saber: Okay, I will take it. The one who does best will share a room with Ayaka, right?

Lancer: You’re on board with this!?

Saber: Archer’s proposal makes sense. This is something I never imagined even in my dreams, but now I’ll work together with this man.

Lancer: Good grief… It can’t be helped, I’m on board. It’s a principle to have the feast in front of you, after all.

Archer: HAHAHAHA, how bold, wild dog! Now then, let us duel fair and square, with sharing Ayaka’s room as stake!

Ayaka: Sorry to keep you waiting. What are you four doing? Did you always get along like this?

Saber: N-no, we were just discussing something. Don’t worry about. Once the battle is over, I’ll tell you everything.

Ayaka: In that case, it’s fine, I guess… Well then, let’s go. I don’t know about the Fuyuki Holy Grail War, but let’s show them a difference in history!

(Stage 1 – Vs Team Tokiomi)

Victory Quote:

Archer (Prototype): You fools! You mediocre Heroic Spirits shouldn’t stand before me! Especially you, that golden one over there. Wearing a full body golden armour, there are limits to how inelegant you can be! In that case, I shall take it.

[1] Prince on a white horse

[2] Likely referring to how Lancer becomes her Servant after she lost Saber (and he lost Misaya)

[3] the actual word used was “Okuriōkami” (送り狼) which apparently is a term for “a ‘gentleman’ who escorts a woman home, only to make a pass at her”.

—————–

Fuyuki – Emiya Residence - Part 2

Saber: Ayaka, how about we have lunch here? This mansion is well-maintained, and perfect for resting. Besides, I feel a strange affinity to it. Especially to that storehouse. It must be a renown work of architecture, there’s no mistaking it.

Lancer: I’m more interested on the inside of the house. Like, a surprise attack from the ceiling of the living room. I wonder why Japanese-style houses are so full of openings.

Archer: I am interested in that wall. It may be inferior to skyscrapers, but it has quite the charm to it. Well now, let’s go climb it.

Ayaka: It’s embarrassing, so please don’t wander around too much. What are you, middle schoolers on a field trip!?

Saber: My apologies, that was rude. Indeed, it’s as you say. Even if they are our enemies, we should act in moderation. It’s unfortunate but let’s refrain from lunching. But you’re not taking a break, right? Are you tired, Ayaka?

Ayaka: U-Uh-huh. I’m getting used to the Hanafuda duels but… Isn’t this city weird? Everyone walking around has empty eyes like a dead fish. Could it be a characteristic of this provincial city? Look, there’s a harbour nearby, right? Like an octopus monster came from the sea and turned all humans into its familiars.

Saber: That’s “something like a summon “. You still have that hobby of reading gloomy books like always, Ayaka. Haha.

Ayaka: Don’t call them gloomy! Who cares about my hobbies? We are talking about the dead fish eyes! Look, right there!

Kiritsugu: *chewing*

Saber: …. T-that… His eyes really are empty…

Ayaka: Looks like he didn’t notice us… He’s just been there in a hiding spot, eating from a plastic piece.

Kiritsugu: *chewing* … This is Iri’s homemade cooking. I can eat it. Of course I’ll eat it. Even if it’s onigiri that changed like depleted uranium. *chewing* Ah, I’m happy… Shit, I’m so happy that I even started crying.

Ayaka: It’s better if we leave him alone. He’s gross.

Saber, I know you made this lunch, but let’s leave. I’m sorry, but let’s have it later… Saber!?

Artoria: *chewing* It has a nostalgic, wild taste from somewhere but it’s not bad. Ah, could you give me some tea, lady over there? I’m holding the turkey with both hands, so my hands are busy.

Ayaka: S-S-Saber turned into a girl!? W-what’s going on!?

Saber: Ouch… To suddenly strike my head from behind, that’s unbecoming of the chivalry code… Wait, who are you!?

Artoria: Hmph, from what I see, you are a naïve man, Pendragon. While you collapsed, I took your delicious lunch!

Ayaka: Even if you play it cool, you already ruined it! Saber, who is this? Could she be your younger sister?

Saber: That’s what I want to know! Who on earth are you!? If you are a knight even in the slightest, then name yourself!

Artoria: Hmph, you say “even in the slightest” after I got you, you make me laugh. I am both your shadow and a possibility of your future. *chewing* Draw your sword, Holy Sword Wielder. Show me how much power the original wields.

Saber: … I wonder what’s this feeling of disappointment I never felt before… However, as you can see, we are both of the Saber Class. As an opponent, there is nothing lacking about you. Lancer, Archer, don’t interfe—re!?

Lancer: Oouaahh, what’s up with this hawk!? Don’t pull my feather accessory! It’s not from your nest!

Archer: Aaargh, step back, Animose! Why are there gorillas around the wall!? And you, Roland, don’t swing me around!  Don’t swing me around!  

Irisviel: Ufufufufu, go get them, wire animals! Flying Guillotine (Hawk’s Name) on the tights-less Lancer! Gattling Brothers (Gorillas’ Name) on the nudist Archer!

Irisviel: If you’re going to make them, gorillas really are the way to go! Primitive power is really different!

Kiritsugu: Iri… What on earth happened? … No, I have to observe this place. I’ve got to find out the reason why the two of us were in a hole!

Irisviel: Ufufu, hahahahaha! Anyone who invades my Sweet Home with Kiritsugu won’t be forgiven! Prepare yourselves, I’ll whip you to the skin of the butt and then throw you out penniless!

Ayaka: And over here, an incredible beauty is getting drunk! What on earth is going on in this city!?

(Stage 2 – Vs Team Kiritsugu)

Victory Quote:

Ayaka: We went a bit overboard… but no matter how you put it, those guys were weird… What’s going on with this city’s Holy Grail?

—————–

Part 3

Fuyuki/Prototype Grail Pit - Part 3

Ayaka: Is this… Fuyuki’s Holy Grail Hot Springs? Rather than a hot spring, this…

Lancer: It looks exactly like our Greater Grail. Did we get tricked?

Archer: No, we probably just took the wrong path. My intuition tells me that if we had gone up on that last crossroad, we’d get to the hot spring.

Ayaka: Is that so? Archer’s got an amazing nose for money and treasures, so I think it might be true… but the ticket says that it should be around here.

Archer: Let me see that… Hoh, I see, so that’s what’s going on. The way is indeed correct. However, it is not meant for us! Saber, this concerns only you!

Saber: What? Why only me?

Archer: FUHAHAHAHA, you still don’t understand, you oaf? This ticket wasn’t sent to Ayaka! It is a love letter overflowing with love that pinpointed you!

Saber: Wha-what!? Don’t tell me… Then, the one waiting for me here is…!

Manaka: SABER!! You’ve finally arrived!  

Saber: !!!

Manaka: Jeez, your face turned so pale. You’re so happy that your face went stiff…Saber really is my prince! I love you! I love you so much to the point I’d sacrifice every life in this planet, Saber!

Lancer: Well, we’re off then. Hang in there, ladykiller.

Archer: Fu, so you’re dropping out alone. Time to pay the piper[1], Saber.

Ayaka: ………

Manaka Sajou. My sister, six years my elder. She’s Saber’s former Master who, in the previous Holy Grail War, advanced through almost invincible. I don’t like to talk about her so I’ll spare you the details, but if I had to describe her, I’d say she’s a super devilish genius who wouldn’t die even if you killed her.

Manaka: Now, come over here, Saber. I prepared a special bath just for you. Oh, unless you’d rather have dinner first? Or just like last time in front of the Holy Grail, YOU’LL • HAVE • ME?

Ayaka: Huh, this is the first time I’ve heard about this, Saber. So something happened between you and my Big Sister. In front of the Greater Grail, too?

Saber: T-this is a misunderstanding! What happened was that I impaled (with the Holy Sword) a mad Manaka from behind with a thud!

Ayaka: From behind… with a thud… for real!?                                            

Manaka: Uh-huh, that’s right♥!  That passionate way, it felt like the world froze for a moment… That’s why… I’ll do the same to you, Saber. Goes without saying, I’ll do it from behind. Leaving no gaps, every nook and cranny of your body. Just like a large-flowered flower. No, like the stars of the shinning sky. Receive my tentacles until you’re all shiny and slippery♥!

Saber: That’s no good, Manaka. It’s true that I betrayed you twice. The first time when I backstabbed you. The second time when I made a contract with Ayaka. So, I’m prepared to have you seek revenge.

Ayaka: Saber…

Saber: But, now let’s remember words of love that are more heroine-like. A girl your age shouldn’t say things like “receive my tentacles"⋆.

Lancer & Ayaka: Urk…!

Manaka: Saber…! Yes, from now on I’ll be more careful! How about the lovely “Manaka Slaughter Whips”?

Ayaka: I’ve been thinking about it since back then, but could it be that you actually are a perfect match for Big Sister, Saber?

Lancer: Well, they’re both airheads, after all. Maybe they could work out as lovebirds[2].

Manaka: That’s right, you people I don’t know. Saber and I are fated lovers. I won’t forgive you if you get in our way. Or rather, I don’t need you. I’ll burn you all on the Greater Grail later.

Ayaka: ….! Don’t tell me, the townspeople looking dead inside was your doing, Big Sister?

Manaka: Yes. Since I had spare time waiting for Saber to come, I went and took over Fuyuki City. After all, in a wedding ceremony, the more the merrier, right? Of course, right after that, I’ll turn everyone into zombies.

Ayaka: … I really can’t let her do as she pleases… I feel bad for her, but just by being here she’s evil. Saber, Lancer, Archer, let’s go! This time for sure, I’ll seal my relative’s disgrace!

Manaka: Fufufu, very well. Welcome, Miss Obstruction. I’ll play with you to kill my bore— Eh? Relative? You? Such a plain character?

Ayaka: Oh geez, you really couldn’t tell…! Just how self-centered are you, Big Sister?

(Stage 3 – Vs Manaka)

Defeat Quote:

Manaka: Ahh, you finally came back to my hands, Saber! First, let’s have some tea, then an afternoon nap. I have so much I want to talk about with you!

Victory Quote:

Ayaka: Thanks for helping me, everyone. I couldn’t have won alon— eh? The Hot Spring as the reward? Right after this? Well, it can’t be helped if it’s a reward but… I have a bad feeling about this…

[1] Just adding this here because this was actually my first time hearing this idiom:

to pay expenses for something, and thus be in a position to be in control;

to pay a monetary or other debt or experience unfavourable consequences, especially when the payment or consequences are inevitable or a result of something one has enjoyed.

[2] Baka couple

—————-

Fuyuki Holy Grail Hot Springs -  Part 4 - Ending

Ayaka: And so, after we safely defeated Big Sister, put her to sleep with a sleeping pill, coffin-packed and delivered her to the Church… we finally arrived at the Hot Spring, but…

Ayaka: No way, mixed bathing!?

Lancer: Oh, this is something you don’t see often these days. The guy who made this was really smart.

Saber: Yes, this is what they call gender equality. By the way, Lancer, how about taking at least a towel? It’s minimal manners to wrap it around your waist.

Lancer: My bad. It’s been so long that I’ve forgotten. What about you, swimsuits are forbidden, y’know? We’re both men, so there’s nothing to hide, right?

Saber: Of course, I didn’t bring such a boorish thing. Having a swimsuit is desecrating the hot springs. Isn’t that right, Ayaka?

Ayaka:  Argh, you guys— No, Lancer is one thing, but Saber! This is a mixed bath, are you okay with this!? Could it be you don’t understand the meaning of mixed bath?

Saber: I do. It’s a public bath without a men’s bath and a women’s bath. I’ve heard that this culture has been familiar to Japan since the Edo period.

Lancer: Yeah. Well then, I’m going ahead to the dressing room. You should hurry too, Missy. You promised that the reward would be the hot springs. Don’t tell me you’re going to take that back?

Ayaka: I-it’s true that I said that, but…

Saber: Ayaka, a lord must always go through with their servants’ rewards. It goes without saying, but that’s a condition to becoming a first-rate Master.

Ayaka: Wha-wha-wha—

Saber: Well, it’s my turn. Come, let us take off our clothes and enter the hot spring.

Ayaka: Guh, Saber you idiot———! I can’t believe that only at times like this you guys get along…! (But this is bad, this development is bad…! Think, me! I can’t avoid the mixed bathing no matter what… In that case… That’s right!)

Ayaka: Wait, you two. A little timeout! I’m going in first, so until then, don’t go in!

Lancer: Uh? Well, I don’t mind.

Saber: Neither do I. Both getting in first or getting in later are good.

Ayaka: Geez, those animals! Heh, but that became fatal. Just you watch, this is my counterattack.

(That huge wall behind her is the result)

Saber & Lancer: Y-you had that move!?

Ayaka: Uff, I’m saved… “Make a wall to separate the genders in the hot spring.” I ended up using it for such a stupid wish but it’s a story that sprang up from the start. I guess a wish like this is something within my means.

Lancer: How could this be? The Missy’s Eleventh-Hour strength is the real deal… What will we do, Mr. Knight? Even though the treasure is right in front of us, we’ve been left in limbo.

Saber: …. Lancer, no matter how you put it, we are weapons of mass destruction. The Noble Phantasms we wield are not for saving people.

Lancer: Right. Fine, let’s destroy it.

Saber: Yes, let’s destroy it.

Ayaka: Wh— I can hear you clearly from here! What are those two thinking!?

Saber: Let’s do it on 3. Even if it’s a wall created by the Holy Grail, if it gets hit by a direct hit of our Noble Phantasms—

Archer: Hold it! And you still call yourselves renowned Heroic Spirits? How can you not understand a bashful girl’s feelings!?

Archer: You fools! Cool down your heads and reflect on your actions! If you fool around in the bedroom, that’s your secret, but this is a hot spring! A place for decent relationships!

Lancer: What…

Saber: … on earth?

Archer: In the first place, seeing the bride’s nakedness is only after marrying properly! I, the King of Heroes, will not allow you to destroy this wall without Ayaka’s permission! Now, correct yourselves, you idiots! Listen well! I won’t let you disgrace Ayaka’s purity while I’m alive!

Saber: S-such seriousness! I can’t believe it, are you Ayaka’s mother?

Archer: At least call me her Big Brother! I have the “reliable university student senpai” position, after all!

Lancer: Oh, in that case, I’m the unpopular host of the neighbourhood. I’m one of the Missy’s senpai in senior high school.

Saber: Wha… Then, what about me? Rider is the classmate, so what other positions are there?

Archer: Hm… How about the blond exchange student who homestays at the Sajou house?

Lancer: Oh, that sounds nice. How about one who speaks Japanese in a funny way but is actually the prince of a certain country? It’s a pretty fitting role, right?

Saber: Guh… It’s frustrating but I can’t deny it.

Saber: It looks fun, so let’s think about the setting a little more. In the meantime, what does Ayaka do in the first place?

Ayaka: Like I said, I can hear you clearly. They’re getting all excited… Don’t they actually get along really well? Geez, and I’m the only one here… Oh well, I don’t mind. It’s a nice bath, and it’s a refreshing travel mood. I’m glad I came.

Ayaka: In reality, these are just alternate versions of ourselves, but doing something like this once in a while isn’t bad. Right, Dad?

Saber: By the way, Ayaka. Why did you, who hates fighting, decide to do it this time? Were you attracted by the hot spring?

Ayaka: Hn? It’s not that I hate fighting, it’s just that I don’t like going through scary experiences.

Saber: What?

Ayaka: This time it was full of opponents we’d obviously beat. It’s just like Archer said, we’re their senpais. That’s why I didn’t think we’d lose to anyone except Big Sister. After all, they were all within our range, right?

Lancer: …

Archer: …

Saber: I understand what you want to say. Yes. It’s hard to explain but the one I fear the most is Ayaka.

—————–

Random Duel Quotes:

Ayaka

“All right, all right♪!”

“Uwaah… What a careless mistake…”

“Too bad for you!”

“Yay!”

Saber

“I won’t give you any openings.”

“I’ll be taking that.”

Lancer

“You shouldn’t look somewhere else.”

“Guess this is what they call ‘killing two birds with one stone’.”

“I’m not done going wild yet.”

Archer

“Praise this unfaltering procedure!”

“Something like this isn’t enough!”

Ayaka & Saber

A: “Please, come to me! Saber!”

S: Yes, here I go, Ayaka!“

S: "You’re doing well, Ayaka.”

A: “T-thanks… This is just the usual, though.”

S: “What, this is just a scratch.”

A: “Are you alright, Saber?”

Ayaka & Lancer

L: “Let’s start, Missy?”

A: “Right, this time it’s a speed match, Lancer!”

A: “Good job, Lancer.”

L: “Not yet, there’s still more to come, Missy.”

L: “Ouch…!”

A: “Lancer, here, have some ointment!”

Ayaka & Archer

A: “Are you alright, Ayaka?”

A: “Y-yes, thank you very much.”

Tokiomi & Kotomine

T: “Impossible! I refuse to accept such an ending!”

K: “Hoh? Are you that frustrated, my teacher?”

Gilgamesh:

“Rather than the nonsense of victory or defeat, what truly is an eyesore is that conceited, prideful face of yours! Let us continue. I won’t allow you to refuse!”

Artoria & Iri:

A: “I’ll stave them off here. You have to retreat!”

I: “It’s alright, Saber! Believe in your Master!”

Irisviel:

“Hanafuda duels sure are fun, Saber!”

“Whatever it takes, right?”

Artoria:

“If you still will not give me your name, then stand up and come at me!”

Kerry & Iri:

K: “It’s enough, Iri. We have to retreat for now.”

I: “Y-yes… I’m sorry, dear.”

Manaka:

“For a mere toy to try to defy me.”

“Come forth, city of decadence. The night is long, sweet and cruel.”

“You do really cruel things to a lady.”

“Save me, Saber!"  

—————— Character art

Ending CG in high quality

————–

My Final Thoughts

[livingmybestfakelife]

The Man With The White Horse

Summary: There were many situations that split mother and son apart, but this might be something that just might separate them forever

Paring: Michael Gray x Reader

Oneshot

gifs by bonniebird

It was currently forty degrees and steady dropping so it was safe to say that it was cold, too cold to be outside having a conversation that could have been done indoors, but his cousins insisted that they have a word with him outside so he reluctantly followed them through the double doors and onto the wide open yard, their heavy footsteps crushed the thick snow beneath them, Arthur had to catch himself from slipping on a piece that was hard as a rock, Michael pulled out a cigarette hoping that it would warm him up a little, but would still rather be in the house, so whatever they wanted to tell him they would have to do it quickly and had better worth freezing his balls off.

“Alright, what is it? What’s going on?”

“How about you take a sip of this gin aye Michael?”

“Since when are you a gin drinker? Whiskey is more your preference”

Arthur shrugs and passes him a glass that he had already poured, he takes the glass from him and swirls the liquid around a little before taking a sip, the other two look on to see his reaction

“Mm it’s good, a little sweet but it’s alright...so is this what you dragged me out here for, to have me try some gin?”

John snorts and goes to pat him on the shoulder

“No, but we’d hope it would loosen you up a little, you’ve been crunching numbers all week, it’s time you let loose, it’s Friday night Mikey”

“I’m aware of the day of the week John, now what’s up with the both of you? You’ve been acting as if you’ve got something to hide all day, hell you all have, my mum won’t even look me in the eyes, fucks going on?”

The families suspicions behavior didn’t go unnoticed by Michael no matter how hard they insisted there was nothing wrong, but they knew he was too smart to be played a fool, so they thought they might as well spill the beans, he would find out the truth eventually

“Michael, we’d each had gotten a letter earlier this week, you had gotten one too but...”

“Hold on, what letter?”

It was silent again, the only sounds that was filling in the awkwardness was the crickets and an owl, it was somehow making him more colder, he hated when people would try to sugar coat what they were trying to say, he’d much rather them speak frankly, like Tommy and Polly did.

“Arthur, what letter?”

“A letter from YN’s uncle, asking for a meeting”

“Okay, so what happened to my letter then?”

“We couldn’t let you see it Michael, he was pretty aggressive in yours”

“Why would he be aggressive? I didn’t do anything wrong”

“Yeah we know that be he...”

“Would you fucking quit it with that! Tell me what’s going on, I’m sick of being out of the loop!”

His eyes were wild and frantic, he wore built up irritation and stress all over his face and in his voice, this family was going to be the death of him no doubt about it

“He thinks that you were behind YN’s assasination attempt”

“HE FUCKING WHAT?”

“Now calm down Michael”

“Don’t fucking tell me to calm down, why the fuck would he think that John? I love YN more than anything in this whole fucking world, more than I love myself, why would I want to hurt her!”

Arthur goes to grab his shoulders in an attempt to calm him down a little, but the action does nothing and he shoves him away, he didn’t want to be coddled like a child, he was way beyond being a kid, now in his mid twenties with more base in his voice no longer the mild mannered teenager that showed up on Polly’s doorstep, he was a grown man, a homeowner and a fiancée who would one day be the mother of his children, he could handle just about everything that came with being a man, but being accused of wanting to off his woman was something he couldn’t stomach.

“Michael, I’m serious lower your voice, you want your nosey neighbors to hear ya?”

“Then why are we out here? Let’s discuss this inside!”

The three men headed towards the door, Michael was about to open it only for someone on the other side to do it for him, out walked his mother with a look of concern on her face, she seemed to just get done breathing hard and tried to collect herself, she placed her warm hands on his face and expected him, she had indeed hard the shouts of her son from inside, she had came over to visit for the evening to discuss some last minute wedding plans with you, all hope for a peaceful evening quickly ended and she knew the reason why, it’s been eating her up inside, making her heart ache and stomach turn, she’d been dreading this moment for a while now, she thought she was careful but apparently not enough, it was all out in the open now, only God could save her now, but she hasn’t spoken to the good lord for a very long time.

“Michael, honey what’s the matter?”

“Arthur spoke up for him

“Let’s talk about this inside Pol”

She wraps a hand around his arm and guides him inside, the warmth from the fire that was lit in the living room instantly smacked him in the face, it soothes him for a moment and for a split second he’s not as angry as he was, but was still irritable, he wanted answers and he wanted them tonight, from either Polly or anybody.

“Son, you’re freezing, come sit down in front of the fire, YN just made some tea”

He moves himself out of her grasp and heads to the living room to find you taking a sip of your tea then putting it down once you notice him, the smile that forms on your face puts one on his, Michael walks quickly over to you and grabs your hands to lift you up, you’re surprised by his action as he does in a haste, you stumbled into his arms as you let out little squeal.

“Michael what’s the matter, what are you doing”

“We’re leaving”

“What, why what’s going on?”

“We’re going to New York, should’ve never left, knew coming back to this fucking city would be a mistake, fucking cursed I’m telling you-“

“Michael! What are you saying right now?”

Polly has tears in her eyes and turns to look at her nephews, they give her sorrow looks and feel sorry for her, they both already know her big secret and knew that if it were ever reach your family and Michael then the Shelby’s would be in a whole lot of trouble, they had enough enemies as it is, but none of them compared to the ones that they now made with the YLN’s, most importantly Richard YLN, your late fathers older brother and the patriarch of the YLN family, what he says goes, his power and influence made Thomas Shelby look like he was a little boy playing pretend.

It took a lot for Michael to even earn his trust, first business wise then personal because he wanted to date the mans favorite niece, the pretty girl he had met at one of Tommy’s gala’s that he was hosting, he remembered how your beautiful pale pink gown made you look like an angel, your very delicate and expensive pearls and diamond earrings added some elegance to your look for the evening, he’s seen some beautiful women before but there was something about you that reeled him in more than the others did, and it wasn’t a feeling of lust, this was something he couldn’t put into words, you were just it for him, he could feel it, right then and there he wanted you, hell even needed you, he hoped and prayed that another man didn’t already have claim to you, even if he did, he’s Michael Gray, he’d always gotten what he wanted, he had a bright future ahead of him and you were going to be apart of it.

“Michael please let’s just sit down and talk about this, there is no need to run of back to America, the both of you are not going anywhere, especially not YN, you remember how pissed Richard was after you dragged her away the first time”

“Yeah, that’s nothing compared to now mum, he fucking thinks that I tried to get YN killed, he’ll never forgive me now”

“Wait, w-what the hell is going on?!”

“Well go on mum, tell your soon to be daughter in law that her uncle for some reason believes that I was behind the her being kidnapped and nearly killed by the Owens brothers, oh and why the fuck would he think that anyway?”

You look to Polly for answers, she looks over at you as well and takes a step forward but he holds a hand up signaling her to stop

“Tell us about the letters mum, the ones that were sent to all of us but was hidden from me”

“Michael I swear to God I didn’t know it would go down the way it did, we made a deal they said that they wouldn’t hurt her- oh my God”

Her voice was shaking and she couldn’t finish, clinging onto John who held her tight, Arthur once again speaking up for everyone

“Polly made a deal with the Owens boys, it was suppose to be simple and no one was suppose to get hurt, Tommy made a bad deal with them and lost some money, they assumed that we betrayed them and stole money, so to get their payback they threatened to kill a family member...”

He trailed off and before Michael could tell him to keep going Polly looked up and continued

“I met with the eldest brother, I made a deal with them to not kill anyone...but to instead kidnap a member, and to do only that, keep them locked away somewhere until we could figure out what had went wrong, he swore no one would lay a finger on her, but his trigger happy little brother shot her, I can’t tell you how sorry I am, YN sweetheart you know that I care about you love, b-but there was no other way around it, it wasn’t suppose to happen this way-“

Michael ran over to her like a mad man, yelling and swearing like he was possessed, his anger, pain and betrayal clouded his thoughts and his body went on autopilot, he tackled his mother to the cold floor and wrapped his hands around her throat, squeezing tighter and tighter, in that moment he felt nothing but hate and resentment for her, all these years of bonding went down the drain along with any love he’d ever felt for her.

“YOU FUCKING BITCH, YOU FUCKING WHORE, HOW COULD YOU DO THIS TO ME HUH? YOU FUCKING SCUM”

His strength was unmatched by Arthur and John who tried desperately to remove him from on top of their aunt before he killed her, he could hear your faint cries from across the room begging him to stop

“MICHAEL YOU’RE GOING TO KILL HER STOP IT”

Her eyes were turning red and so was her face, she scratched and punched but nothing helped, finally giving up she let him continue to try and choke her to death, she deserved it, and if there were anyone she would rather take her life it would be her precious baby boy, her little Michael.

Finally he was pulled away before she could close her eyes, she gagged in an attempt to let oxygen get into her lungs, her throat was already forming a nasty bruise, you cried, then Polly then Michael, he cried and screamed and banged his fists on the hard wood floor.

“I wish I never came looking for you, this family...this family is the worst thing to ever happen to me”

He whispered but she could hear him as if he said it in her ear

“Michael, oh my god”

You ran over to him and collapsed by his side to hold him, as much as you were hurt by Polly’s confession you still didn’t want to see her be harmed in that way, especially not by her own son, John and Arthur checked over Polly who gently pushed them away and got onto her feet with whatever strength she had left

“I’m sorry, oh my boy I love you”

“Get out of my house, ALL OF YOU GO”

The boys helped Polly to leave but not before you had your say

“I can’t promise you that Uncle Richard won’t come for you Polly, I suggest you be the one to run off to America”

She still has her hands caressing her sore neck, nodding in acceptance of her fate, and with that they left, you and Michael looked at the door, he was still breathing hard and his hands were still in a choking form, you reached down to hold them and looked up at him

“Michael, for heavens sake”

“No one and I mean no one comes above you, if I won’t do it then Richard will, and with the way your family does business, choking her would’ve been a less painful death”

You nod your head because that’s the only response you could give, Richard would find out the whole truth eventually, and when he does, Polly Gray would be no more.

[thisismymidnightwonderland]

Shelby Sister - Wedding Day

Requested: Yes

14. “What are you doing?” “Making a point.” With Tommy x sister reader?

I had a lot of fun with this one, maybe too much but oh well. Hope you enjoy it :) 

“Ow!”

Polly stuck another hair pin in, “Will you keep bloody still?”

“I would if you stopped jabbing me with them.” You complained. “Don’t even see why I’ve got to have my hair up anyway. Not like I’m getting married.”

“Thank God for that, God bless the man that has to marry you.” John walked past holding a bottle of whiskey.

You made a face and tried to kick him but Polly pulled you back by your hair.

“I said stop moving Y/N or I swear to God…” She threatened.

“Or what?”

A moment passed.

THWACK

You lunged forward out of the chair, cradling the back of your head. “Oh my god! Fuck… what the hell Polly?”

Laughter filled the room as your brothers and a few close members of the blinders realised what had happened. Polly stood there, hand on hip with one almighty grip on the handle of the hairbrush.

“That’s what now sit back down.”

“No! You’ll hit me again.” You rubbed the sore spot where she’d clipped you with the back of the brush.

“What’s the harm in letting her keep her hair down Pol?” John questioned.

“What’s the harm in letting her keep it down? Men! You never understand anything.” She pointed at you. “What boy is going to want to dance with her if she looks like she’s been dragged backwards through the hedge?”

Tommy smiled and lit a cigarette, “Let her keep it down Pol, no point in her dancing with anyone if she’s gonna have a face like that all day.”

“Who said I was dancing with anyone in the first place?” You asked.

Silence.

“Who said I was dancing with anyone?” You asked again, your voice gaining a slight edge.

“Nice hair Y/N.” Isaiah walked past laughing.

“Shut up.” You felt what Polly had done, she’d barely got halfway into it and you sighed when you realised you’d have to find someway for it to look acceptable for the wedding. Esme stepped forward.

“I’ll help you if you want. I used to braid the younger girls hair before I married John.”

“Oh great, she’ll look like a gypsy meeting Grace’s family.” Polly groaned. “I don’t know why I bother sometimes because you act more like a gypsy than all your brothers combined.”

Polly shut the door when she left the room, it took a few seconds of eye contact with your brothers before you all started laughing. Polly was right, you were wild enough on your own without any kind of encouragement so in a way John was right. God bless the man that wanted to marry you because you weren’t going to make his life easy.

In the time leading up to the wedding, Esme has sorted your hair out so that the front part was braided off your face and the rest hung down loosely. You’d got changed into your dress and were stood waiting in the chapel with Finn on your right and Isaiah on your left. Truth be told you didn’t pay that much attention during the ceremony, you more concerned with how many men were sat opposite you in uniforms and how many of the younger lads were staring at you.

Isaiah nudged you when everyone had to stand up and you were brought back into the present. “What’s got your head in the clouds?” He whispered.

You shook your head and sat back down when Jeremiah gave the sign to. Your eyes were drawn to his fingers when you noticed him picking at cuts along the tips of them.

“Still haven’t got the hang of sewing the razors in yet?” You whispered.

“No it’s driving me insane. Takes me bloody ages to do and no one’ll help me.”

You coughed to hide your laugh at the thought of Isaiah sat at home in front of the fire like an old maid trying to sew the blades in properly.

He ducked his head and his lips grazed the shell of your ear, “Maybe you could help me.”

You looked up at him and opened your mouth to reply but were cut off.

“I now pronounce you husband and wife.”

The effort of getting both families back to Tommy’s house was more trouble than it was worth in your opinion but you weren’t giving your opinion today. In fact you were deliberately avoiding Polly so she couldn’t give you a lecture about acting like a lady today. You got enough of those lectures off her when you stayed out all hours of the night with Finn and the lads.

“Y/N! Tommy wants everyone down in the kitchen now.” Arthur beckoned you forward, rounding up John and Jeremiah on the way.

He clapped Isaiah’s shoulder on the way past, “C’mon kitchen now.”

“Arthur this young lady wants to play in the snow.”

He shook his head, “No, no snow today. No snow today.”

The young girl held onto your wrist when you tried to walk away, “We were told on the train there’d be cocaine.”

You wrenched your wrist back out of her hand. “That’s not my problem.” You followed the lads heading down to the kitchen and ignored her pouting.

“Fucking hell Y/N, should’ve told her to just fuck off probably would’ve took that better.” Isaiah laughed.

“Shut up and stop offering people cocaine, Tommy’s gonna go mad if he finds out.”

You stood in the kitchen next to Finn, taking the strawberries that he offered you and listened to Tommy rant about how there was to be no upsets today. You managed to keep a straight face for most of it and keep the attention away from you but couldn’t help it when he slapped Finn in the face to shut him up. “No fucking sucking the petrol out of their fucking cars.”

“What about her then?” He nodded in your direction.

“He doesn’t need to tell me to do anything because I know how to behave.” You told him, hoping to get on Tommy’s good side so you could avoid having any rules for the day.

“That’s not true though is it.” Isaiah countered, his eyes raking over you.

Tommy inhaled on his cigarette, “Y/N you’re gonna dance with the boys that ask you, you’ll be a perfect little lady to them and accept every fucker that wants to offer you a drink or chat about god knows what. You’ll smile and make small talk and if anyone… anyone asks you about what business we do, you smile and tell them you have no idea because what place does a lady have in the business of men?”

“Like hell I will. Why aren’t Ada and Polly down here too then? If everyone’s getting rules for the day?”

“Because they actually know how to behave unlike you, you tell me you can but let’s face it Polly was right before. You act more like a gypsy than anyone here and you’re more than willing to throw a punch even when it’s not needed. So let’s practise.” He got low in front of you. “Miss Shelby, would you care to dance?”

You gave him a tight lipped smile, “I’d be honoured, you arrogant bastard.”

Tommy raised his eyebrows at you.

“Maybe try it without the arrogant bastard.” Finn quipped.

You drove your elbow into his side.

You lost track of the time after that, boy after boy came up to. Offering you a drink, a dance, it didn’t matter. You followed what Tom said and accepted everything with a smile but it was driving you mad. You’d had to claim you were parched with thirst when the last one you were dancing with couldn’t believe that you’d been taught how to ride a horse around a ship yard claiming it wasn’t a ladylike thing to do, so you’d asked him for a drink and he was more than happy to go get you one. After he’d sat you down at some random table, you’d waited until he was out of sight and snuck into one of the back hallways away from everyone.

You sighed and leaned back against the wall with your eyes shut. You knew you couldn’t stay out here forever, eventually Polly or Tommy or someone else would come looking for you. You loved him but damn Thomas Shelby for doing this to you today.

“What’s got you hiding out here?” A voice asked from the other end of the hallway.

You opened your eyes and saw Isaiah walking towards you, a glass of whiskey in his hand.

“If I have to hear one more cavalry boy talk about how honourable his family is, I’ll end up shooting him.”

He laughed, “How long have you been out here then?”

“Not long enough.”

Isaiah sipped at the whiskey thinking about how to convince you to go back inside. He was on his way out to the stables when he’d seen you hiding. He knew he wouldn’t be able to just leave you here without you wanting to know where he was off but he also knew that if he told you, you’d want to come out and watch the racing. Tommy would have his head though if he brought you out.

“Fuck it.”

You opened your eyes again and looked at him.

“Come on.” He wrapped an arm around your shoulders and started walking with you.

“Where are we going?”

“Tommy’s got all the boys outside. Gonna have a few races he says. Something about clearing the air and all that.” He explained.

“Tommy’ll kill you if he knows you brought me outside.” You grinned

“Well I can hardly leave you moping around the hall can I?”

“What the fuck are you doing out here?” John bellowed across the yard.

“Watching the racing, same as you.”

His eyes moved between you, Isaiah and Finn who’d come to stand next to you. “Tommy’s gonna kill you.”

“Tommy can go fuck himself.”

“I can do what now?” A voice echoed behind you.

The look on his face was murderous. You could see out of the corner of your eye that all the boys around you looked nervous but you held Tommy’s gaze, you knew the worst he’d do would be to drag you back inside and have a few stern words with you on the way.

“Boys would you mind giving me some time alone with my sister?” It sounded like a question but you knew it wasn’t. Everyone around you scattered, lining themselves up around the makeshift race track they’d be using.

“You’re meant to be inside dancing.”

“And you’re meant to be happy on your wedding day but your face says different.” You countered.

He narrowed his eyes, “You could watch racing anywhere, anytime Y/N, why’re you out here?”

“Because I want to be.”

“Because you want to be?”

You stayed quiet, you hated being upstairs with everyone in the ballroom staring at you. All because you were the youngest sister. You could feel their eyes on you everywhere, hear the whispers behind your back. Then when one of them finally came up to get you to dance, the feeling of their hands on you, your back, your waist. Testing how far they could slide them down until you gave them a stare that even Polly would’ve been proud of, excusing yourself for some kind of reason except it wasn’t long before it would start again. The same thing with a different person.

“Yeah because I want to be.”

“D’you know something Y/N? I helped raise you, helped teach you how to walk, talk, the lot. So d’you what that means? I can tell when you’re lying from a mile off.”

You swallowed nervously.

Tommy sighed, he took your arm and pulled you into one of the empty stables. He leaned back against the wall and stared at you. “Well?”

“I’m sick of the cavalry boys.” You mumbled.

“You’re sick of the cavalry boys?”

“Will you stop repeating everything I say? I know what I said Tom.” You snapped.

He held up his hands in defence, “Alright, why’re you sick of them?”

“I'm sick of their stares, their smiles. They way their fucking hands try feel me through me fucking dress. And it's not like I can tell them to fuck off is it? No because Thomas fucking Shelby decreed there'd be no upsets today because it's Grace's fucking family.” You voice was raising with each word, Tommy tried to step towards you but your hands came up and you shoved him back. “They've got a bet on. Did you know that? They've got a bet on which one can get me to go furthest with him tonight. Some think they'll only get a kiss, maybe a bit more. But some of them… some of them think they'll get me straight into bed. They must think I'm fucking deaf because I can hear every word they say about me. They think I'm this meek, timid little thing that you keep locked up because I'm helpless. It's like they want to push me, to see how far they can take it before I explode.”

Roars of celebration filled the air as the thundering of hooves got louder. You had a sudden burst of inspiration. “How many races are you doing tonight?”

“Why?”

You didn't answer, instead you bolted from the stable like a horse that had got the taste for freedom. You could hear Tommy chasing after you but you kept your eyes trained on Finn who’d stopped the horse near John, Arthur and the rest of the peaky boys.

You nearly smacked into the horse when you tried to stop due to how fast you’d been running. “Get off.” You coughed out.

“What? Why?” Finn questioned.

You looked behind, Tommy had nearly reached you and was shouting at Finn to stay where he was.

“No time. Twin favour.” You pleaded.

He was down in a instant, twin favour was something you’d come up with when you were kids. It meant you couldn’t ask the other any questions about why or what is was they needed, you jut did it and trusted it was for a good reason.

“Give me a leg up.” You told him.

“Are you mad?” John asked, keeping one hand on the horses reins, when Finn gave you a boost.

“Maybe.”

“What are you doing?” Tommy grabbed the reins out of your hands.

“Proving a point.” You snatched them back.

“What’s your plan? You’re gonna race in a fucking dress and heels?” He asked. “Get down.”

You didn’t answer him, instead you pulled your shoes off and threw them at Finn who caught one but let the other fly over his head.

“Fucks sake they were expensive Finn!”

“Don’t throw them at my head then!”

You pulled your dress up and started pulling at the stirrup leathers to make them shorter. You shoved your bare feet into the irons and kicked the horse on. The metal felt cold on your feet, you weren’t wearing stockings which if Polly knew she probably would’ve dragged you back home by your hair.

“What is the meaning of this?” Grace’s uncle stormed over. “Mr. Shelby you can’t possibly mean to send this girl out on the race.”

“And what if I did?” Tommy glared at him.

“Well you can’t. Out here is no place for a lady. And to send her out would just be embarrassing considering our advantage.”

“I was born riding Mr. Burgess. And from what I’ve seen today, your cavalry boys ride like sacks of shit.” You turned your back to him. “Walk on.” You told the horse and tapped it’s sides with your feet.

“Now I want a nice clean race, is that understood? Y/N?”

You grinned down at Johnny Dogs.

“Now. On your marks, get set.” Johnny stuck a finger and thumb in his mouth and gave a sharp blast. That was all you needed to drive your heels into the horse’s belly and lean forward. You couldn’t really remember how long it took for you to finish the race but you could remember the wind flying through your hair, the reins hard between your fingers, the irons cold under your feet. You’d remember the sounds of your brothers bellowing as you came up to the finish line, even Tommy was shouting.

The gravel sprayed up when you stopped the horse and jumped down. “Good boy.” You ran your hand down his neck and brought him over to the water.

“Y/N” Finn ran up behind you and spun you round.

“Finn put me down!” You screamed, feeling the ground start to tip. “Put me down!”

“Curly take the horse inside.” Tommy told him, lighting up another cigarette. “Come on Y/N.”

You walked over to him and he started to walk you back inside. “We’ve got business going on tonight so I need you stay inside now and actually stay inside.”

You nodded.

“And if you ever pull a stunt like that again-”

“I won’t.” You told him.

“Good.”

You walked in silence with him until you were nearly at the ballroom.

“I put some fucking look on their faces though didn’t I?”

Tommy laughed at that, a proper laugh that you hadn’t heard in a while. “Yeah you did. Now go on in.”

He watched you walk into the ballroom to make sure you actually went inside, he stood in the doorway for a few minutes smiling to himself when he saw you telling you Esme about what happened. She started screaming and spinning you round, pouring more alcohol into a glass for you.

You were wild, there was no doubt about that but you were his little sister so there was a small part of him that hoped that would never change.

[myssamyss]

Everything Stays, Part 2 of 6

Featuring the first two panels of “The Bet” by Jojo.  Part 2: ...It’ll Cause You to Drown Link rode into the heart of Lon Lon Ranch with a single-minded purpose: his visits needed to end.

He dismounted and fought against the comforting familiarity that rose to meet him as he approached the ranch house. Even this small stretch of yard held sweet memories. Once, in a fit of playful frustration, Malon had upturned an entire jug of milk over his head in this very spot, laughing melodiously all the while. They’d both gotten in trouble with her father at the time. Now, he smiled to recall the refreshing shock.

If he stepped just a little further onto the grounds to the main corral, he’d come upon an older memory. His favorite memory of her, but one that only he knew:

“I can’t believe it, but peace is returning to this ranch! It’s all because of you! I owe you so much! Thank you! Thank you, Link!”

He clung to that memory like a candle in darkness after returning to his childhood, for though he’d been forced to reforge many friendships, rebuilding Malon’s trust had frustrated him the most. At first, he hadn’t thought much of that frustration. The memory of their first meeting burned brightly in his mind: she’d been the only child in a sea of strange adults filling a strange town, back when he was fresh out of the Kokiri forest and utterly overwhelmed. But she seemed safe, so he was drawn to her like a moth to a vivid red flame. Years later, she’d somehow remembered him after he emerged from the Temple of Time. Losing such a meaningful history with any friend was bound to be frustrating, or so he’d justified. But then their relationship grew beyond what had been lost, and he found himself thinking of her constantly. He hadn’t realized until too late–she'd become his haven.

The weight of his feelings for her hadn’t struck him until his last visit, when she confessed to thinking of him often, too, before delicately pressing her lips to his cheek. Her kiss blindsided him with happiness. But that euphoria lasted only until he was back in the saddle and leaving the ranch. Once he was out on the open road, he’d finally been able to think. He’d been so caught up in joy that he’d almost forgotten his most painful lesson in trusting others; he knew what inevitably happened to the people he placed his comfort in...

Link sighed loudly to shake away his thoughts, turned to the ranch house, and forced his hand to knock at the familiar wooden door.

Just say what needs saying. Then leave, he coached himself as he waited at the threshold. He could even leave the message with her father. She was usually out with the horses at this time of day, so he could just speak with Talon and leave her undistracted. But the stifling heat must have interrupted her daily schedule, because when the door flew open, he found himself face-to-face with Malon.

“Link!” she exclaimed. Her eyes shone with excitement and her lips–the same soft lips he now felt in his dreams–broke into a huge smile. Distracted, he couldn’t get a single word out before she pulled him into an exuberant hug, trapping his arms by his side and scattering his thoughts completely.

“I’ve missed you, fairy boy! Looking for some more work?” she asked. He smiled at the nickname. He’d grown taller than ever before, yet she still teased him as she had when he was a boy.

“You picked a heckuva day to do some farm chores,” she warned him with a teasing smile. She pulled the back of her hand across her glistening brow.

He focused on fixing this memory of her in his mind: her blue eyes full of laughter, one hand still clutching his arm, her vibrant hair framing her flushed face.  If he walked away now, he could remember her this way, always.

He took a deep breath.

“I actually... came to say goodbye,” he told her. “For awhile, at least.”

Malon’s expression turned wooden. “What do you mean…?” she asked.

“I probably won’t be back for a long time,” he told her, staring at the yellow kerchief draped over her shoulder so he wouldn’t have to meet her eyes.

If she was upset, she hid it well, and Link silently thanked the goddesses for Malon’s gracious spirit.

“Where will you stay tonight?” she asked, her voice becoming surprisingly cheery. “Won’t you stay with us, just for one night? The spare room is made up already, you can sleep warm and cozy there.”

She peered up at him and he nearly drowned in her blue eyes, brimming with hope beneath deep lashes. Link didn’t know how to refuse.

“Fine,” he agreed.

One night. In the morning, he’d say goodbye.

***

Wild carefully nocked three arrows onto his bow. He glanced down from the low cliff he stood atop to mark his makeshift leaf targets knifed to a tree nearly fifty meters away, then he leapt from the cliff and drew back the bowstring in a single fluid motion.

He exhaled steadily as he fell, seeking the familiar state of perfect concentration when the wind in his ears would quiet and the world would stand still.

Instead, the wind roared and the world blurred around him. He felt a surprising twinge of pain as he let his arrows fly, before rapidly stowing his bow and switching his hands to grab the handles of his glider in well-practiced coordination. His left forearm stung. As he floated back down to the ground, Zelda’s voice echoed in his mind:

“May I ask, do you really remember me?”

A second voice followed. Warriors, this time, from the night before:

“...and a guy like him? He’s well collected, acts like he’s always on duty.”

Wild’s feet touched down in soft grass and he stowed his glider, glancing at his forearm which sported a red, angry welt where the bowstring had whipped across it. He hadn’t made that mistake since the Great Plateau—and even then, the muscle memory of pulling a bow had quickly cured him of the habit. It was amazing how much his subconscious remembered; if only his consciousness could have followed suit.

He marched to the target-tree. Two of the arrows had at least met the trunk, though the third was nowhere to be seen. He peered into the forest and tried to catch a glimpse of the fletching amid the dull green grass.

Footsteps crunched from behind him.

“You missed?” Legend called out incredulously as he emerged from deeper in the forest. The man’s red tunic stood out against the dark greens surrounding them, though the contrast was less striking than usual. Wild realized with a slight start that the light in the forest was waning.

Legend stared at the targets. “We may have to revoke your ‘Greatest Archer of All Link-Kind’ title,” he said with a chuckle. “I’m surprised you’re still out here, I thought you were heading back early to cook.”

Wild sighed and said nothing. Legend took the hint.

The soft clink of armor and the nearly imperceptible pad of a second pair of footsteps against the forest floor met Wild’s ears. He turned to see Time and Twilight making their way through the underbrush from the direction of camp. Twilight smiled and raised a gauntlet-covered hand in a casual wave as he approached. Wild managed to twitch the side of his mouth into a half smile for his friend, but the slight darkening of Twilight’s expression told him that he hadn’t been very convincing.

“We’re heading out next, thought we’d come find you two since, uh...” Twilight trailed off.

“We weren’t sure if you were still cooking,” Time picked up smoothly, turning to Wild, “or if you wanted someone else to? If you need more time training, any of us can step in, the job doesn’t always have to fall to you.”

Wild dropped his gaze and nodded. “I’m fine. Let me grab my arrows, I’m done,” he replied flatly. He turned and started off in the direction of his lost arrow, acutely aware of the telling silence from the other heroes behind him. Did they really find it so strange that he’d lost track of time?

After a quiet moment, he heard the distinctive steps of the mentor-and-student pair as they walked deeper into the woods. Wild crouched among the forest foliage and tried to find a piece of broken grass or skid-scored dirt that might announce his arrow’s path, but the day’s light was failing fast. Besides, he reasoned, he had hundreds of arrows in his Sheikah slate, what point was there in collecting this one? He straightened up, dismayed, and turned to find Legend waiting for him.

“No luck, huh?” he asked Wild, raising his eyebrows in a rare show of genuine concern.

Wild shook his head and strode to where Legend stood, then they started back toward camp together. The only sounds between them were the quiet jostling of gear and the swishing of Legend’s tunic.

“Hey, Legend,” Wild said softly as he pushed aside a low-hanging branch. “Thank you. For what you said last night.”

“Hm? Oh, yeah, anytime.” Legend shrugged. “I was getting damn sick of it too. Plus, I have a feeling that I’ll win this bet.” He smirked.

Wild wasn’t so sure, but he gave Legend an amused smile in return. He wasn’t necessarily sick of the Wife Debate. But the conversation at camp last night had stirred a deep realization inside of him, leaving him unsettled.

Ever since the heroes had learned of Time’s mysterious wife, they had taken to swapping theories about her identity each time the Old Man left camp. Everyone was curious. Well, everyone except Twilight, who likely knew more than he let on, and Legend, who had kept uncharacteristically quiet during the discussions, until last night:

“My money’s still on Zelda,” Warriors reiterated. To no one’s surprise, Sky nodded his hearty agreement.

Legend stood up suddenly and joined the banter for the first time. “You think he’s married to Zelda?” he asked Warriors, sarcasm dripping from his voice.

“He speaks so highly of her,” Warriors explained, “and a guy like him? He’s well collected, acts like he’s always on duty. It’s got to be the princess herself.”

The pair had bickered lightly until Legend finally ended the discussion by throwing down a bet. Still, Warriors’ words had already stuck in Wild’s mind like a splinter he just couldn’t pick out. They poked at his conscience, and he found himself running over the words again and again long into the night, becoming increasingly frustrated. Because Warriors’ reasoning about Time was sound; the older man never quite seemed at ease. Was that the price to pay for winning the princess? Though, Legend apparently disagreed...

Wild glanced at the other Link walking beside him. He hadn’t realized it before, but he and Legend had something in common: the ability to listen and see. So maybe he’s right, Wild considered. Legend did a great job of feigning indifference behind fast words, but his actions betrayed his insight. Like now, as they walked through the forest, sharing the comfortable understanding that nothing more needed saying.

Later that evening, Wild sat beside their campfire and halved mushrooms with a short paring knife while his mind still spun. After last night’s talk of partners and princesses, couldn’t help but replay that final evening with his Princess Zelda–the night he’d been whisked away. He’d returned from his upsetting encounter with the orphan in the swamp, but said nothing about it to Zelda. Instead, he sat beside the fire and listened. Zelda spoke ceaselessly of Zora’s Domain which lay ahead, her eagerness to meet with Prince Sidon after so much time, and her relief to be traveling Hyrule once more. Wild had been quiet. She was so captivating, and passionate, and he couldn’t bear to break her excitement.

Deeper, unspoken words still hung between them, but Wild had always struggled to voice the unsaid. In honesty, he wasn’t sure what she needed from him. With only a few scraps of memories to work from, he didn’t dare hazard a guess at her deeper thoughts. Still, he’d seen enough in his memories to guess at what she expected of him, and he fell easily back into a half-remembered regimen of simply listening and doing his job.

He’d gotten up to stoke their campfire when the scenery around him shifted abruptly and he found himself standing barefoot in an entirely different Hyrule with no way back, despite how desperately he tried to return to her. So, he kept moving forward. He’d done a fair enough job of keeping her out of his mind, at least until the Wife Debate began.

A rustling noise rose behind Wild. He automatically turned away from their brightly lit camp to peer out into the forest, but his eyes couldn’t see much in the darkness. He turned back to the stew pot and continued slicing, unbothered. The woods were teeming with wildlife, plus he trusted in Wind and Hyrule’s ability to keep their watch. And even if enemies lurked out in the forest, Wild had probably fought worse.

But what about his Zelda, alone and a world away? He tried not to worry. After all, she was clever and resourceful, and the monsters across their Hyrule had lost some ferocity since Calamity Ganon’s defeat. Not to mention she proved a quick study with a sword. She slew her first bokoblin with a scimitar near the Hylia River in a flashing gleam of steel and ruby. He suspected that she’d been secretly practicing long before he began teaching her. Wild had full confidence in her abilities.

The matter of her safety aside, half of his heart still ached to return to her, and to their journey across Hyrule. His own Hyrule, the one he had worked so hard to rescue. Yet as he journeyed instead with the heroes of ages past, he began to realize something else, too: he felt happier here, adventuring, than he’d ever felt back home. His heart was conflicted. He knew what he should want–but he was altogether sick of ‘shoulds’. He’d had enough of duty for duty’s sake. Sure makes things easier though, he reflected. A duty was clear, while his own desires were proving fickle.

Wild shook his head and threw the heaping pile of mushrooms into the boiling pot, then he thumbed the painful welt on his forearm. Stewing over stew, he mused to himself with a quiet chuckle. At least some things never change. ___________ Author’s Note: thanks as always to @clumsydarknut for beta-reading. 

[realityhelixcreates]

Lasabrjotr Chapter 17: Man as Enemy to Man

Chapters: 17/? Fandom: Thor (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe Rating: Teen And Up Warnings: Death, dirty language, violence Relationships: Loki x Reader (But not yet) Characters: Loki (Marvel), Reader, Brunnhilde, Thor, Heimdall Additional Tags: Post-Endgame: Best Possible Ending (Canon-Divergent), Radicalization is a Bitch, Questions Questions, I Don’t Know How to Ride a Horse, But I’ve Seen it on TeeVee, Hell Day Summary: Reader has a very busy day.

Loki sent the messenger ahead to tell the stablehands to get his horse ready, spending just a handful of moments on finding you something warm to throw around your shoulders.

“Would that I could leave you behind, _____, but I cannot this time.” He led you swiftly through the Capital Building, out into the stable yard. People deftly slipped out of his way, his presence seeming to project ahead of him like a wedge.

“We’ve seen that we mustn’t be separated by such a distance, as the deleterious effects set in on you very swiftly. And more; you may be able to identify this person for us. I understand that it might be frightening to face someone who has tried to kill you, but-“

“We don’t really know that for sure though.” You pointed out. “They could have been aiming at you. This knife can hurt you, can’t it?” You patted the blade at your waist. “Normal weapons can’t, can they? But this is something special?”

“An astute observation. I’ll explain more about the knife later. Unfortunately, it has become much more likely that you were the intended target after all.” He hesitated. “_____, someone has been killed. Another human. You need to be prepared for…unpleasantness.”

You shuddered. Living with one murderer, and about to go face another. Though Loki might not have been altogether in control of the bloodying of his own hands, you had no idea if anything had been done for the families of his previous victims. Had anything been set right? Was he even a bit remorseful?

That was, of course, if he wasn’t lying about everything.

“I…can probably handle it.” You had seen dead bodies before. But those had all come back to life in the end; or rather, they had never died in the first place. This poor dead person was going to remain that way.

“There’s Einherjar there, right?”

“Correct. You will be safe.” Loki would be there too. If he wanted to keep you alive for his purposes-nefarious or not-he would have to protect you.

Loki’s beautiful horse, Leynarodd, was brought out, but no horse was brought for you. You’d heard the horse that had been stolen was returned now, and you were glad to hear it, but she wasn’t here. Instead, Loki helped you up onto the huge animal, then climbed up and settled down behind you.

The severity of the situation finally hit you, only as you were being borne inexorably towards it. An actual murderer awaited you, one whose victim was there, on site, where you were now heading. They had tried to kill you: earnestly tried to end your life. If the knife had been made for throwing, if you hadn’t been wearing thick layers, they might have succeeded.

And now you were travelling right to this person, someone who wanted you dead for reasons you didn’t even know.

Your heard raced faster with every hill and valley that brought you closer, but closing your eyes only forced you to concentrate on the power of the horse beneath you, of how closely tucked up against Loki you were. Of the perfect cage of his arms holding the reins to either side of your shoulders, thighs pressed the length yours, torso molded to your back. With your eyes closed, you couldn’t help but focus on how a person has to move their hips in order to effectively ride a galloping horse.

You were breathless and nervy by the time you arrived, so clearly anxious that when Loki helped you down off Leynarodd’s back, he held you between himself and the horse for a few moments, rubbing your shoulders in what he must have thought was a calming manner.

The area was a mess; the ground disturbed by scuffle, and strewn with garbage. Close to the trees, a bloodied Asgardian soldier was draped over a sheet-covered body, wailing. The sergeant in charge of the investigation approached, grim-faced.

“Oh no.” Loki breathed. “Is it-?”

“I’m afraid so.” The sergeant confirmed, speaking lightly accented English, for your sake. “I knew this would end in tragedy, but I didn’t think it would be like this. I should have known something was suspicious when she volunteered to watch this area so eagerly. If I’d known, I’d have sent someone else, and that poor man might still be alive. He was a citizen of this land. I don’t know if we should send word to the authorities yet.”

“Do you have the killer?” Loki asked.

“Oh yes.” She said. “The miscreant is over here.”

She led you several dozen yards away, over a low hill, out of sight of the grieving soldier. You found yourself curling your fingers around Loki’s and, noticing your apprehension, he did not pull away.

Restrained and surrounded, a scruffy, roughed-up man sat on the ground, scowling.

“You.” Loki said sharply. “You have murdered a citizen of this nation. What have you to say for yourself?”

The man ignored him, fixing his hateful stare on you.

“You’re still alive.” He growled, disappointed. He had an American accent.

Loki stepped forward to loom over the man.

“I am Loki, Prince of Asgard, and you will answer to me.” There was anger in his voice, the kind that had made you cringe in the camp. Now, as then, it was on your behalf, but it still made you want to shrink back. “Why have you killed this man? Why have you tried to kill this woman?”

The man flinched from the power of his voice.

“They’re traitors to their people!” He exclaimed. “Abetting you invaders, betraying their own for your attention! For you! A usurper! A mass-murderer! We aren’t going to sit back and let you invaders steal our women! And we won’t abide traitors to humanity!”

“A terrorist.” Loki sighed, voice full of disgust. “Cease.  That’s more than enough.”

“Is it good when he fucks you?” The man snarled at you. “Good enough to commit treason against your whole planet?  You’re the devil’s whore, and we won’t stop until you are in the ground, you-“

Loki’s boot smashed into the man’s already bruised face, sending him rolling over himself in the trampled flowers.

“Oh, I would like to kill you.” Loki hissed, as two guards hauled the man back into a kneeling position. “But I won’t make a martyr out of slime. All your hatred for us, and you manage only to harm other humans? Pathetic. You have murdered an Icelandic citizen, and you will be turned over to Icelandic justice. You will rot in a human jail and be forgotten. I don’t even care to know your name.”

With that, the prince turned his back and carefully pulled you away, sending the sergeant on a journey to the nearest settlement, to contact the authorities.

“Don’t you listen to a word he said, he is clearly a madman who knows nothing of the situation.” Loki helped you back up onto his horse.

“Did you know him?” He asked on the way back. You were riding at a much more leisurely pace, now that you were no longer in a hurry, allowing you to take in the magnificence of the wild Icelandic summer, and also allowing your heart rate to remain only a little elevated, instead of completely off the charts.

“I’ve never met him, but I think I’ve seen him before.” You said. “In the camp, I think? He was playing an instrument by a fire. I think that was him. Was he there the whole time? Do you think he followed me? He was talking like there were more people like him, do you think there are more coming? Or already here?” Your voice raised, becoming shrill with fear. “Will they just keep killing people until they get me?”

“Shh-shh…” Loki switched both reins to one hand, freeing one arm to wrap around you. A quiet whine escaped you through gritted teeth, finding little comfort in being held tighter to his body. “No one will ‘get’ you. Now that we are aware of this danger, we will all be ready. I…I did not sense any lies from him. Whether there really are others or not, he truly believes that there are. But even if there are more, there is at least one that is now out of the picture. I will see that he does not become glorified, that he is treated as any other criminal: reviled or forgotten.”

He held you tightly all the way back, trying to quell your flourishing paranoia, but you couldn’t help but stare at every person who passed you, searching for signs of hidden hostility. There were Asgardians who didn’t like humans. They could kill you just as easily, maybe moreso than another human. After all, other humans weren’t allowed in New Asgard. You were surrounded by Asgardians all the time.

You didn’t feel safe again until dinnertime, and that was only because you were surrounded by actual gods, that you knew were at least a little fond of you.

All of them were excited about the laukas that Loki had mentioned, which turned out to be something a little like leeks. They were very tasty, but not as exotic as you thought they would be. They probably meant more to the Aesir around you, like a taste of lost childhood. It was a miracle that they grew here at all.

Loki had briefly mentioned what had happened earlier, leaving out certain details, like the murderer’s tirade against you.

“How do you fare?” Heimdall asked you quietly. You didn’t think you could lie to him. You might be able to lie to Loki, and though he would know, he might not call you out on it, but Heimdall probably would. Besides, his concern seemed so genuine, it felt wrong not to be honest.

“Not very well. I’m frightened.”

“This is a harrowing experience, and I regret you’ve had to go through it.” Thor said.

“I hadn’t even thought about what a bunch of strangers might make of this. I never expected to be hated over this. I thought everyone would be mad at his highness maybe, but not me. None of them know what’s really going on.” It was all so completely unfair. You hadn’t asked for any of this. You couldn’t even enjoy your time here, as an impromptu vacation, like Loki had suggested. You felt like a prisoner.

“Everybody feels entitled to an opinion.” Brunnhilde said. “Seems like the less they know, the more details they have to make up, to have opinions about.”

“You can see anything, right?” You asked Heimdall.

“In theory.”

“Could you see if anyone has tried to cause trouble for my dad because of this?”

Heimdall fixed his amber gaze on some faraway point.

“Your father is in a large vehicle. He is singing along to music, and appears unharmed. There is a small, gray flerkin with him.”

“What?” Brunnhilde gasped. “Here? On Earth?”

“What’s a flerkin?” You demanded, startled by the reaction.

“We must do something!” Loki exclaimed.

“Everyone, settle down!” Thor commanded. “There are no flerkins on Earth right now. There are however, small creatures kept as pets that superficially resemble flerkins. Possibly a form of mimicry for defensive purposes. It’s very effective; they look exactly the same, but here, they are known as ‘cats’. _____, does your father own a cat?”

“Momo!” You exclaimed. “Okay, so he’s on a job right now. Good, good. I hope the other truckers aren’t on his case. Thank you so much for doing that for me.”

Heimdall simply inclined his head.

“Um, is it okay to ask you how it works? Like, is it rude to discuss god power stuff?”

“Well…” Thor began. “It’s not taboo or anything, but there are rude questions and polite questions, just like anything else.”

“I just wonder, when you look at those far away things, is it like you are actually seeing them in front of you? Or is it more of an image in your mind’s eye?”

Heimdall’s expression changed noticeably for the first time since you had met him, revealing pleased surprise.

“It has been a long time indeed since anyone asked me about that. In fact, if I remember correctly, the last person to ask me almost exactly that same question was, I believe, attempting to find a way to hide from my sight.”

Loki hastily shoved another lauka into his mouth.

“My sight has varied applications. I can see through others eyes, and share my vision with others. In a way, all eyes are my eyes. I can see just a little into the past, and a little into the future. However, when I look into far realms, and not through someone else, it is far more within my mind, as you would put it, and I remain aware of my immediate surroundings.”

“Wow. You know, I don’t think I would really want to be able to do that. You’ve probably seen all kinds of things you rather wouldn’t have.”

Heimdall smiled, flashing bright teeth. “You would not be wrong.”

“And you control storms?” You asked Thor.

“Kind of, yes. I can call lightening as I will it, and thunder naturally comes with it. I do have some control over weather, locally, whether it rains or not, and where, and for how long. Plants seem to grow more vigorously wherever I spend much time.”

“Children too.” Heimdall pointed out.

“That’s a good thing though.” Brunnhilde added. “Our numbers are few. But Asgard has never had a fertility god as king before, only war gods.”

Thor squirmed, both Loki and Brunnhilde giving him teasing looks.

“But brother, aren’t you proud to be such a great aid to your people?”

Thor squirmed more. “Cut it out. It just feels…coercive. That’s all.”

“It is simply Nature, amplified.” Heimdall said. “There is nothing shameful in passively assisting something that was going to happen anyway.”

You’d never thought of it that way before; of the responsibilities that might come with godhood. It was something one was born with, and surely some Aesir were uninterested in being Aesir, but if they all had powers that passively effected their surroundings, there might be no escaping it.

“Besides,” Thor grumbled. “Father was a wisdom god.”

“Odin was a war god up until he decided to rebrand.” Brunnhilde pointed out. “And he was only able to take up the mantle of a wisdom god because of all the secrets he kept. Easy to seem wise when you’ve hoarded away all the vital information. And we all saw how badly that went.”

Loki covered your ears.

“Not in front of the mortal.” He said, even though you could clearly still hear.

The Valkyrie abated. “Dark as it may seem, we have an incredible opportunity right now. The both of you now know exactly what kind of things not to do. Odin kept too many secrets; Thor may be meant to air them out. Maybe that’s why he sweats ozone.”

The kings face turned bright red.

“You noticed that too?” You asked, prying Loki’s hands off your ears. “I’m not the only one?”

“He’s a breath of fresh air, in his own way.” She teased.

“And you have supreme battle goddess powers?” You asked Brunnhilde.

“Ooh, I like that.” Brunnhilde preened. “Also, I can see the dead.”

“What?”

“Well, the recently dead, anyway, and only those slain in battle. Furthermore, I can see how they died, and how they comported themselves in every battle they ever took part in. One of the Valkyries duties was to choose which fallen Einherjar got the honor of being interred in the Black Hall. That’s not really a thing anymore, so that ability is pretty useless now.”

“Hmm.” Loki mused. “I wonder if that might be helpful when the investigators of this land come around to ask us about this recent unpleasantness.”

“Maybe.” Brunnhilde glanced over his shoulder. “He did follow you home, after all.”

Your insides went cold.

“W-what?” You stammered, really hoping she wasn’t implying what you thought she was.

“He fought hard, for someone who was not a warrior. A lucky strike got him in the end, but he made a very spirited showing. Not quite Valhalla material, but nothing dishonorable either. “

You clung to Loki in utter horror. The living dead were real, and one had followed you home. You were certain that if you looked behind you right now, you would see nothing. Brunnhilde was probably the only one who could see it; maybe Heimdall could too. Not being able to see it, but knowing it was there was almost worse.

Loki let you cling, draping his cape around you like a shield.  You buried your head in it. Scary movies and ghost stories were one thing, but none of it was supposed to be real!

“Could you send him on his way, perhaps?” He requested on your behalf. “It won’t do for him to stay overlong. He might get stuck as a vengeful spirit, and his lady would not want that for him.”

Brunnhilde nodded. “She is fine.”  She said to the place beyond Loki’s shoulder. “There’s nothing for you to worry about. You can go in peace.” She tilted her head. “Really? Thanks for the info. Farewell.”

“Is he gone?” You whispered.

“Yes. But he did say that the killer mentioned that he had friends coming. We should probably get you trained up in self-defense.”

There was a round of agreement from everyone.

Your tasty lamb and laukas sat heavy in your stomach, and your distinguished company seemed to tower over you, so important and untouchable. How could you protect yourself? Maybe you could just ask Loki to lock you up in the little room, so you could sleep until this all blew over. Just stay in bed until everyone had forgotten about you, until you became nothing more than a legend.

You were already kind of an Asgardian cryptid, gathering stares wherever you went. That Beli fellow, wanting to use you as a teaching aid, the sewing ladies, dressing you up like a doll. Loki, parading you around as his personal prize. But who among them actually knew you? How could anyone know you, when you were starting to not even know yourself?

Learning how to use your new knife would be a good first step in taking yourself back. Whatever Loki’s plans for you, he had to make sure no one killed you beforehand. Whatever else he might do to you, he could at least be counted on to try to keep you safe.

                                                                                        *****

 “Your lady is deeply troubled.” Heimdall told Loki, after you had been put to bed.

“I’m beginning to notice.” Loki said. “And she’s not my lady.”

“Please.” Brunnhilde scoffed. “You honestly think old Beli was gonna keep his mouth shut about your announcement? The whole court knows. All the Einherjar know. I give it three days before even the smallest child knows.”

“Then they can celebrate with us!” Loki said. “I know Father had no need of a seidkona after he married mother, but the tradition is still there, and I still have the right to choose my own. Even if I don’t exactly need sorcerous support, it’s still a good place for her, still within tradition. It should be acceptable.”

“Alarr and his posse are furious.” Brunnhilde informed him. “They are threatening not to appear for this Buridag celebration, and to keep their families at home. They are agitating to convince others from coming as well.”

“Of course they are.” Thor sighed.

“He’ll have a demon of a time trying to keep Andsvarr away.” Loki said. The boy was more than a little smitten with admiration. He would probably fight to get to the celebration, if he had to.

“What are her thoughts on the matter?” Heimdall asked.

“She’s fine with it!” Loki said. “I told her about it when we were discussing celebration plans with Beli. She came up with the most wonderful idea-“

“Are you sure she was fine with it?” Brunnhilde asked. “Or did you just tell her it was happening, and she didn’t think she was allowed to say no? She might not think she’s always allowed to say no to you, and that is a much bigger problem than you want to admit it is.”

“Now just a damn minute-“ Loki began.

“Does she even know what a seidkona is?” Thor wondered.

“She…might not, actually. I thought she did, but now that I think about it, it might not have actually been mentioned in detail…”

They all ganged up on him then, and as irritating as it was, they had good points. Did humans even have seidkona? How could she know how important this appointment was? How could she act in proper capacity for her title when she was still a novice?

“Look!” He said, raising his voice over the protests. “I’m going to address all of these issues. But not tonight. Buridag is still months away, and I will be training her up in magic and knifework for her own protection. She will not be unprepared.”

“But she’s got to understand what it means.” Brunnhilde said. “And Heimdall is right, something is troubling her, and it’s not just the assassination attempt. Although that didn’t help.”

“I’ll see to it.” Loki promised. “Starting tomorrow.”

[multi-fandom-fanfiction]

The start of something beautiful

Requested will not say who for protection of there privacy

Eddard Stark was sitting in front of a campfire drinking a goblet of mead with his men when one of his men came running up something small wrapped in a blanket. The man was frantic and hollering. Ned stood up and greeted the man in his hunting party. "What is the cause of your panic," Growled the warden of the north. "My lord I found this babe in the woods she was in a basket with a note that said her name is Y/N," Explained the panic lord. The Lord looked down at the baby. She was blue and close to death. He instantly jumped into action gripping the baby in his arms and raising towards his arms. The new lord tried to be as careful as he could be as he climbed on top of his horse and galloped towards the stone castle. His hair whipped in the wind and face was full of stone and concentration. The gate was immediately opened seeing there lord. Catelyn who was watching there one-year-old toddle around Winterfell while a wet nurse played with his bastard son Jon ran to her husband in worry as he yelled for a master wet nurse for the babe. Ned stayed with the babe till she was fed and nursed back to health and put to bed. "Is that another bastard Ned," Growled his wife. "No she is a babe I found dieing in the woods," Answered Eddard as soft as possible. "What will you do with her then," The Tully women asked calming after the reassurance. "I will raise her here and when she is old enough she will be your ward," Answered the young Stark. "Ok Ned," Answered Catelyn surprisingly agreeably. That was sixteen years ago now that little babe is a girl of ten and six. A woman grown and truly stunning with beautiful soft clear Y/S/C (Your Skin Color) skin and stunning Y/H/L (Your Hair Length) Y/H/S (Your Hair Style) Y/H/C (Your Hair Color) hair paired with inticing Y/E/C (Your eye color) eyes. Her name was Y/N snow. She was sassy, witty, fearless, wild and rebellious yet she was also smart, kind, compassionate. She was the perfect lady but yet much more. She loved to nit, sing, and dance but she could wield weapons and plan battles better than any man. She was Catelyn Stark's Ward and practically Lord and Lady Starks eldest daughter. She was like a sister to Sansa, Arya, Bran, Rickon, and Jon. Theon and she did not get along at all. Yet the person she was closest to was Robb Stark. The two were practically attached inseparably from the moment they both could waddle around the castle and courtyard. And that amazing woman was you.

Robb waited patiently for you to join him in the training yard watching you walk with Jon, Bran, and Rickon. You burst out laughing. Your laugh was like a beautiful song. The gorgeous smile that was etched on your face made his heart skip a beat. He would be lying if he said you weren't the most beautiful woman he had ever seen. The breath was knocked from his lungs as if he someone punched him in the gut when he watched Jon wrapped an arm around your shoulder and you reached up and kissed his cheek. He turned to towards the targets picking up his bow. He couldn't help but think to himself, "Why am I feeling like this sure she is beautiful but I don't have feelings for her do I?" He could hear her boots hit the muddy courtyard. "Robb," She squealed jumping on to his back. He couldn't help the happiness that filled him when she embraced him. "I have missed you wolf," She whispered in his ear causing a new chill to run up his back. "And I you snowflake," He replied as she slid off his back. The young wolf felt almost disappointment no longer having physical contact with you. "What was happening to me," Robb wondered coming to the conclusions these new feeling for this goddess for y/n snow for his snowflake for his best friend were either going to be the death of the young lord or they were going to be the start of something beautiful.

Jon took Bran and Rickon to get bows while you greet your best friend. You slid off of the eldest son of lord Starks back and he turned to you. You saw a smile but it wasn't a real smile. Not the knee-weakening smile that made your heart race. "Is everything okay," You asked concern etching on your face and lacing words. "yes, of course, I'm with you," He answered jabbing you with his elbow playfully. "I don't believe you," You tease poking his cheeks and pulling his cheeks into a smile. Your playful antics caused the half Tully half stark to let out a chuckle that melted your heart. A real smile grew on his face and a sparkle appeared in his ocean blue Tully eyes. Robb was your best friend but you had long ago realized just like every other maiden in the castle or village you had fallen head over heels in love with him. Everything about the young wolf was perfect. He made your heart race or skip a beat. He made your head spin and make you dizzy. He made your knees weak and your stomach swarm with butterflies. "Y/N," You heard Jon shout. You turned from the beautiful man in front of you and face the white wolf. You saw him throw you a bow at you. You caught it with ease and the arrows that barreled through the air after. "I bet you five gold coins I can hit the bullseye more than you," Challenged the auburn-haired lord to you. "Challenge accepted," You accept with a cocky smirk placing a kiss on his cheek and lining yourself up from a target. The challenge was simple you both shot till one of you miss the middle. You one a shot five and cheered. "Ha I beat you now pay up," You cheered. Applause coming from Arya who at some unknown point and the two starks and bastard behind you. Robb pulled the gold coins from a bag in his pocket in his tunic but as you went to grab the money you accidentally slipped. Robb hand flew out to try to help you but when you grabbed it the mud caused him to slip and fall on top of you. When he went to stand his hands slipped and his lips hit yours. Instead of either of you pulling away. Your soft lips moved in sync with his calloused ones. The world around you disappeared for a moment before reality appeared in both of your minds. You pull away a red tint on your Y/C/S cheeks. Robb stood up and helped you up. A newfound awkwardness settling between you. "Umm, I should go" You chocked out before running off. You ran to the godswoods where you prayed to your gods as tears fell from your eyes.

Robb sighed and ran his hands through his hair and down his face frustratedly. "You have to go after her," He half-brother scolded him. "I can't brother," The young wolf answer helplessly. "Yes you can you stupid fool you love her you may not know it yet but that kiss shows you do you don't kiss your friends like that and don't tell me as of late your feelings for her haven't changed I can see it in your eyes and she has been helplessly in love with you since she was two and ten that I know for sure go after her brother or you will regret it and you will lose her," His fathers bastard ranted. "Your right for the first time ever but you are right I have to go," Robb admits. "Do you need help finding her," Asked his little sister from behind there brother. "No I know where she is" He answered taking off towards the godswoods.

You didn't know how long you were there for. Your tears had seized leaving you with puffy tear stained cheeks and bloodshot swollen eyes. You were perched on a rock legs crossed hands intertwined and head facing your lap until you heard a twig snap and heavy boot steps. Jumping from the rock you quickly pulled out a dagger from your boots. "WHO GOES THERE," You holler firmly? "Relax it is only me snowflake," You heard the familiar voice that made your heart race before he appeared. You slipped the dagger back in your booth. "If your hear to pray I can leave," You mumbled. "I'm not here to pray I am here for you," He answered softly stepping closer. "Oh Does your mother need me," You asked confusion. "No I came to talk with you Y/N," Your blue-eyed best friend answered softly taking a seat on the rock and motioning you over. You sat down next to him crossing your legs like you were taught. "What do you want Robb I have came here to be alone," You answer not looking at him. Not wanting to get lost in the endless oceans of his captivating blue eyes. Not wanting to melt into the puppy dog look he gave you that melted your heart and your will to say no or hold your composure. "Please look at me," Pleaded the future Warden of the North. You turn your head to him with watery eyes from sadness and frustration. He extended his rough calloused hand out towards your cheek and gently caressed it using his thumb to wipe away the tear that slipped from your eyes. The future lord of Winterfell took his hands from your tear wreakened face to your soft femine hands before spilling his guts, "Y/N Snow the orphan girl from the woods ten and six years ago, My mothers Ward, My snowflake, most importantly my best friend yes I admit I was pig headed all these years I saw you as a girl not a woman a sister I guess but as of late you are the only girl I can think about you are the most beautiful girl imaginable I crave the chance to hold you close to me or run my fingers through that beautiful Y/H/L (Your Hair Length) Y/H/S (Your Hair Style) Y/H/C (Your Hair Color) hair or to get lost in your breathtaking Y/E/C (Your Eye Color) eyes You are alwasy on my mind I can't help but smile when you smile I would do anything to bring out that smile that makes my heart skip a beat or that laugh that is music to my ears I love and admire everything about you and you love my stupid foolish pigheaded ass no matter what I say or do your th eonly woman I can be myself around You are my bestfriend but I have fallen in with you and I don't know what is going to come of this but I know that back there this right her is the start of something beautiful." "Robb I," You start but are cut off by his lips pressing against yours. He sucked the air out of your lungs and made your head spin you placing your hands on his shoulders. Lips moved in sync with his while his arms wrapped around you pulling you closer to him. You pulled apart panting breathlessly. "Please believe me I want you I want to be with you I want no I need the honor of being yours and you being mine," The auburn haired future lord begged. "Of course Robb I love you," You answer gripping his face and kissing him again.

Message to the requester I hope you like it. It was a lot of fun to write. If you don't like it there are a few things I can do. 1. I can rewrite it completely 2.I can rewrite certain parts (If there is a certain part you don't like it) 3.I can add detail (If detail is the problem) 4. I can write you something else other other than that I just wanna say your feedback is greatly appreciated and I would love to hear what you have to say good or bad. Thanks for the request hope you enjoy it.

[bdfanfic]

From Elsweyr With Love #9

Ra’Jirra awoke at dawn. Her head felt a little odd, but she chalked it up to the lack of sleep and turned to the jet black form of Ko’Manir. What had she been thinking? She knew nothing about this woman. It wasn’t her first time with a woman, true. She was beautiful and wild last night and Ra’Jirra obviously had wanted her too. But she was normally in better control over herself than that. Maybe she’d drank more than she’d thought.

And she wondered how much of Ko’Manir’s story was true.

She stroked the khajiit’s arm gently. “Ko, we’d better get moving. We’ve a better chance of not being seen if we leave early.”

Her lover turned over and smiled at her. It was nice to see her face in the light.

“Ra’Jirra. It wasn’t a dream.”

“If that was a dream, you’ve got some damn kinky dreams, kid.”

“Kid! I’m 23 years old. I’ve read your bio. You’re five years older than me. I’m hardly a kid!”

“No, sorry. You’re right. What did you bring with you?”

“Nothing. A little money, a notebook, and some travelling clothes.”

“Feel like a bath?”

“With you? Sure!”

“Okay, but only a quick one.”

An hour later was longer than she’d have liked, but it had been worth it. Well, she figured, after last night what could a little more hurt? She gathered up her own belongings after sending Ko’Manir out ahead of her.

The taxi ride out of town had been circuitous, but she wanted to be absolutely sure she wasn’t being tailed. At last she was satisfied and directed the driver to a spot near her true destination. Once there, she caught another taxi to deliver her to where the caravan waited. In fact, technically it had already started. She was one of a few stragglers, but there were still some camels for hire by the local khajiit merchants and she had her luggage stowed with one of them, and hired a horse for herself to ride. It was a smallish horse, and not terribly well trained, but she weighed little and it ran like the devil when she let loose of it’s reigns.

She kept the briefcase with her, but once she saw the camel and its rider were under way, she let the horse go to catch up with the main body of the caravan. The day was again blessedly overcast and hadn’t gotten too hot yet, but the feel of the wind through her hair had her laughing with joy.

“I think I’ll call you Arrow, my little friend!” she called to it in Ta’agra. It didn’t seem to mind, but it seemed to be having as much fun running at full speed as she was having. All too soon the she reached the caravan proper and slowed her ride. She looked back as she continued up the caravan and saw the city fading away behind her.

“Good riddance, Rihad, and I hope never to cross your border again!” she yelled at the stinking city and made an obscene gesture towards it. As soon as she did so, she regretted it. She’d probably sealed her fate that she would return.

She turned back to the caravan and squinted. A black horse rode beside a brown. Surely not…

But then she confirmed it. Who else would be riding a black horse, after all? It was Ko’Manir, and beside her rode Sarosh. She caught up with them quickly, then let Arrow cool down with a slow walk that still managed to move faster than the glacial pace of the pack camels.

“Ahoy!” she called and the two turned around and rode back to meet her.

“Ra’Jirra!” called Ko’Manir, smiling broadly.

“Nice of you to join us!” Sarosh said. “Romanov wanted to wait for you, but I told her you’d catch up soon enough.”

“Please, please Sarosh,” Ko’Manir said with a sour look on her face. “’Ko’Manir’ please? If I never hear that silly name again, it will be too soon.”

“Sorry… Ko’Manir,” he apologized. “So, any problems? You weren’t followed?”

“No. I took a hell of a route to make sure, but I’m sure I wasn’t,” Ra’Jirra answered. “But Ko… really? A black horse?”

She shrugged as they turned back to follow the caravan. “Don’t you think it suits me?”

“All too well. You know, black absorbs heat.”

“Ah, I thought about that. Can you believe it, one of the khajiit men gave me his headwear!”

“Better check for lice,” Ra’Jirra laughed,

“Well, besides that, it’s not too hot out with the clouds,” Sarosh noted.

“So how long do you think we’ll be on this slow train?”

“We should cross into Cyrodiil by nightfall. We camp overnight before heading on to Kvatch.the next day. I have a contact there where we can drop off the device. Then it’s on to Skingrad. I’ll be staying there where my family awaits. That’s the end of the line for the caravan, it circles back at that point. You and Ko’Manir will travel south from there to Elsweyr.”

Ra’Jirra looked at Ko’Manir who was smiling at her. She cringed a little. What was she thinking last night? She sincerely hoped the cryptologist wasn’t too infatuated with her. As much as Ra’Jirra did enjoy the previous night, it was a mistake. But what a mistake!

The landscape changed slowly but perceptibly as they continued eastward towards the Cyrodiil border. They’d been travelling north to skirt the wide Brena river. When finally the trail turned back eastward, the hard ground had turned into low grass and the river allowed them to ford it easily, still wide but shallow.

The caravan stopped on the far side of the river, and Ra’Jirra breathed a sigh of relief. Finally they were on friendly turf. They continued on some few miles before stopping as night came on. Her belongings were brought to her and she elected to purchase a tent for her, Ko’Manir and Sarosh which the khajiits erected for them - for a fee of course.

They sat outside the tent around a fire and spoke in low tones, what with other travelers and their tents pitched nearby. Sarosh was relaxed, knowing he would be reunited with his family soon, but Ko’Manir seemed tense.

Ra’Jirra spoke up, “So, Sarosh, what will you do now that you can’t go back?”

Sarosh shrugged. “I don’t know. Maybe I’ll retire. I’ve saved quite a bit, actually. I could probably buy a small shop and go into business for real.”

“Well, if you do, let me know. Metalwork?”

“Jewelry specifically. I think I’d enjoy that. What about you, Ko’Manir?”

The dark head looked up from the fire, as if lost in her own thoughts. “Me? Oh, I haven’t thought ahead that far. I suppose I’ll have to work with the HMSS for a while. At least till they wring everything out of me they think might be worthwhile.”

“You don’t think that,” Ra’Jirra started, indicating the briefcase she kept always in sight, “that will be enough?”

The orange eyes turned on her. “Even now they will be notifying every agent they can to stop using it. At best it will be worthless within a few months. Messages already sent will decrypted, but that will only help for so long. The HMSS will want me to do more, but Hammerfell will make sure that the work I was doing is purged.”

“You sound like you regret your decision already,” Sarosh observed.

“No. I don’t regret it. But I can’t help having second thoughts. Espionage is such a fleeting business. Today’s enemies are tomorrow’s friends and vice versa. A few months ago Ra’Jirra was my sworn enemy, even though I still admired her. Now…”

“Now we’re friends,” Ra’Jirra said, taking her hand.

“Friends,” Ko’Manir repeated, and lay back on the short grass. “Are we?” she said to the stars.

“After last night, I certainly hope so!”

Sarosh looked at her, then back to Ra’Jirra, an eyebrow raised.

“Stow it, soldier,” she said with a smile, repeating his words.

“Yes SIR!” he said with alacrity.

“I think last night may have been a mistake,” Ko’Manir said, still not looking at Ra’Jirra.

Ra’Jirra turned to her and put a hand on her shoulder. “It may have been, but what’s done is done. I don’t regret it.”

“Not yet,” she said in almost a whisper.

“Enough of this,” Sarosh declared and stood up. “I’m off to take a piss. Who’s with me?”

“Well aren’t you suddenly a free spirit?!” Ra’Jirra laughed. “No, you go on. I don’t think I want to see that.”

Sarosh looked back to Ko’Manir who was looking at the stars and not paying attention, then back to Ra’Jirra. “No, I guess you probably don’t.”

“Hey!” Ra’Jirra said, throwing some grass in his general direction.

“Be right back.”

The two khajiits stayed quiet for a whilie. Ko’Manir broke the silence. “Do you know, the stars look exactly the same in Cyrodiil as in Hammerfell.”

“They do. I suppose from their perspective, there are no borders.”

“Do you think that could ever happen? No borders I mean?”

“Not in our lifetimes, no.”

“But someday maybe. Someday.”

“Perhaps,” Ra’Jirra said and moved next to Ko’Manir and put her arm around  her. She didn’t think Ko’Manir’s wish would ever come true really, but she appreciated the desire anyway.

Suddenly the sound of a thunderclap rolled over the flat plain and someone screamed.  Ra’Jirra leaped to her feet but put a hand to Ko’Manir’s chest when she stood up too.

“No. You stay here. Get in the tent.”

The dark khajiit didn’t protest. Ra’Jirra drew the gun from her pocket and ran in the direction of the scream. She found Sarosh a few yards away with a couple of the caravan khajiits, looking down at a dead man.

“What the hell?”

“He’s from Rihad. Secret police. He had me on the ground. Said he was administering justice. I think your Dominion friend…”

Then a second thunderclap was heard and Sarosh dropped to the ground.

“SAROSH!!!!” Ra’Jirra cried. She looked around desperately. The other khajiits had dropped to all fours, looking for the source of the sound. Yet even with the vaunted khajiit Night Eye, there was nothing to be seen. The plain was too flat and the sound had given only a vague clue as to its direction.

But Ra’Jirra wasn’t paying attention to any of that. She was holding her friend’s head in her lap, the red blooming from his side.

“Ra’Jirra… My family…”

“Sarosh,” she cried. “No. You can’t…”

“Tell them… I tried. And I love...”

“Oh Sarosh! No!”

And then he was gone. Ra’Jirra ripped open his shirt and saw the gaping wound. It was no longer flowing blood. The heart had stopped. The chest she had so recently felt so safe resting her head on no longer rose and fell. Sarosh was dead.

She cried then. She wailed the song of the khajiit into the sky. She kissed the face she had grown to love, as a friend. In other circumstances, surely as more. But he did not kiss her back.

“What was it?” she heard a khajiit voice whisper in her ear. She turned to see one of the caravan drivers squatting next to her, knives in both hands. “Are we under attack?”

She raised her head and looked out at the dark grassland in front of her.

“No. I don’t think so. Set a watch, but stay low. If anyone comes into camp, be wary of them. They have a weapon that can reach far - like an arrow, but even faster.”

“Do you know who caused this?” the khajiit asked, but he put a blanket over Sarosh’s body and she looked at him, tears still flowing but her face hardening.

“My ‘friend’,” she spat. She stood up then, daring the unseen assassin to take one more shot. She pulled out her gun and began walking towards the darkness. She walked in circles, trying to find the person who had killed Sarosh, but she found nothing and the thunder did not come again.

Finally she returned to her tent. The bodies had been taken away. Within, Ko’Manir was in one corner, a knife at the ready, but she set it down when she recognized Ra’JIrra.

“What happened? Where’s Sarosh?”

“Dead. A Hammerfell agent came for him and nearly killed him, but then a shot came out of the dark. Killed the agent. Then it came again, and killed Sarosh.”

“A shot?”

Ra’Jirra realized she wasn’t making sense to the frightened woman. She looked at the gun in her hand, and explained everything.

[sympathyfortheblinderdevil]

The Cursed Side of This Family Chapter 5

(look here for chapter 4)         (look here for Chapter 6)

Slow burn, Tommy x Esme, grief, guilt, lust, drugs…What’s not to love?

In this installment, Esme has a sexy flashback...

Drifting in and out of sleep, Esme could not seem to find the rest that she needed. She was all out of smoke, and wouldn’t dare ask Tommy if he had any, even though she knew that he would sometimes use it to help him quiet his mind when nothing else would.

She got out of bed and tiptoed to the window. Drawing the lace curtain aside and looking down on watery lane, she recalled that this was not the first time that Thomas Shelby left her flushed, confused, and restless.

Her thoughts wandered back to an accidental late night meeting in Charlie’s yard. John had come home drunk, loud, and smelling of whores one too many times. Esme had practically thrown the baby into his arms and then stalked out the door, leaving him with a houseful of newly woken, bawling children. “Fuck you, Esme!” John slurred at her back as she walked away.

“It’ll be cold day in hell before you get the pleasure again,” she roared through gritted teeth as she stormed down the lane. Their relationship had always been odd. Fixed. Arranged. But, the spark of passion was there from the first night, for both of them, and it always hurt her when he strayed. They viciously fought, but making-up was always sweet. She knew that tomorrow morning he would pick a bouquet of wildflowers, bring her tea in bed, and put his head in her lap. He’d be all baleful looks and tears, begging for her forgiveness. As always, she would forgive him.

Tonight, however, Esme was full of devilment. She half considered going into the Garrison to even the score. There was no doubt she could find someone with which to spend the night.  She was not a conventional beauty, but she was sexy. A riot of wild black hair tumbled over her shoulders and down her back, her black eyes flashed under their sweeping lashes, and the curves of her body had only become more supple and pronounced in motherhood. She was everything a man could want in his bed, but she didn’t want any man’s bed. As easy as it would have been to make John pay for his indiscretions by knowing that she had fucked another man, she could never go through with it. Her heart wouldn’t let her, and it would be as good as a death warrant for the poor man whom she bedded.

The night air was crisp and felt good in her lungs, cooling her down and helping her to gain control of her emotions. She boldly decided to walk as far as Charlie’s yard. One of her favorite mares had delivered a foal, and she had yet to see it. The horses always helped her to see sense. She’d always said that she’d been born riding, and that wasn’t far from the truth. Growing up on the road, horses were a part of her everyday life before she could crawl. Their gentle majesty grounded her, and in the crazy world of Small Heath Esme needed to visit them often. The risk of walking through the dark streets was well worth it to her if she ended up at the stables.

As she approached the stables, she noticed a faint light and thought that maybe Curly had come down to check on the new foal. She called out, “Curly, it’s just me, Esme. I’ve come to see the black mare and her…” Before she could finish, the door swung open and Tommy, wild eyed, stood in the doorway. “Come on in, Esme. Don’t let me stop you.”

“I…I didn’t know you were here, Thomas.”

“Does it matter?”

“No…” it sounded like a question coming out of her mouth, but she could see that something was definitely very wrong with Tommy and she didn’t know quite how to approach him. Tommy wasn’t wearing his usual jacket. His sleeves were rolled up to the elbow, and his shirt was soaked with sweat

Esme carefully ventured a question, “Where’s the foal?”

“Dead. He didn’t make it.” Peering from the shadows, he never broke eye contact as he spoke to her, and it made the hairs on the back of her neck stand up. As he spoke, the familiar scent of whiskey reached Esme’s nose.

“I’m sorry Thomas.” Esme spoke softly, carefully, almost as if she was speaking to a horse that could easily spook.

“No need for that. It’s all part of it, eh?” he lied.

But she knew better. Thomas Shelby never lost his cool. He could stare down the barrel of a gun without flinching, but the death of the foal had shaken him. He loved horses more than he could love most people. That was something that he and Esme had in common. He stepped into the light and she noticed that his eyes, which had finally shifted away hers, were red and wet.

“Couldn’t wait until morning to see an ‘orse? Don’t you think the streets of Small Heath are a bit more hospitable in the light of day?” As he spoke he handed Esme a nearly empty bottle of whiskey.

Taking the bottle, Esme snarled, “Your pig of a brother came home drunk and smelling of whores. It was either leave the house or gut him with a kitchen knife.” She drained the remaining contents of the bottle and handed it back to Tommy.

Tommy barely suppressed a low chuckle.

“It’s not funny, Thomas.”

“You’re right, my girl. It’s not. He should treat you with a bit more respect. At least wash up and put on a fresh shirt before he crawls home.”

“Fuck you, Thomas.”

“Oh, come on, Esme. I’m only pointing out the absurdity of the situation. Why on earth would he need to fuck whores when he has you at home? I would never do that to you.”

Esme felt a warmth run down her spine at his words, for they were spoken softly and sincerely. When Tommy raised his icy blue gaze back to hers, she could feel her cheeks flush and her stomach draw into a knot.

“Thank you, Thomas.” She whispered.

The corners of his lips raised a little, almost into a smile, but not quite.

His words implied an affection for her that she never knew had existed, and her mind slid sideways. Thomas actually cared about her. The king of Small Heath, with his razor crown, had a beating heart after all. They stood in thick silence for what seemed like hours. Their eyes locked on to each other until it felt, surreally, like they were drawing closer.

“Right then. Let’s get you home. I don’t want you wandering the streets of Small Heath at this hour. A bit unseemly, don’t you think?” Tommy spoke, and the spell was broken.

Tommy led her to a stall which held a white stallion. “How ‘bout I take you home on ‘im?”

Esme lit up as the horse nuzzled her hand. “He’s beautiful, Tom. Where’d you get him?”

“Won ‘im off Johnny Dogs. One day that Gypsy bastard will learn not to bet against me.”

Esme laughed, in spite of herself. She knew that Tommy’s Grandfather was a Gypsy King, and he meant no harm against her kin.

The night was getting colder by the minute, and Esme was grateful for the warmth that the whiskey had provided. Tommy pulled his coat on, and grabbed an extra one that he kept at the stables.

“Here, put this on. It’s gotten colder since you came in.”

Esme gratefully bundled up in Tommy’s coat. It smelled like Tommy’s sweat, whiskey, horses, and smoke- a smell not very unlike John’s.

Outside on the gravel Tommy helped her mount. She hitched her dress up and swung her leg over, a little embarrassed at the view that Tommy would have. She was more embarrassed when she saw the red state of his ears as he mounted behind her. Tommy clicked his tongue and the horse began to lope down the lane.  Riding through the streets bareback, Esme had to grip the horse with her thighs. Simultaneously, she could feel the warmth of Tommy’s body at her back and his slow steady breath on her ear.

She had never been this close to him before. Tommy had always kept a carefully guarded distance from her. Where Arthur’s demeanor always had the rough affection of a brother, with his bear hugs and mussing up her hair, Tommy always kept a formal tone. Now, she was sat between his thighs, and rocking movement of the horse did little to quiet the stirring she felt between hers.

As they rode past the BSA, flames from the forge spooked the stallion, and he reared up on his back legs. Tommy gripped Esme tightly to him, leaving no room between them. She could feel his heart racing against her back, and she soon realized that he had his chin on her shoulder and his cheek pressed to her’s. His hand was just under her breasts, strong and insistent. He pulled the reins and spoke in rich, low tones to the animal, shushing and reassuring him. Even with all the whiskey Tommy had consumed, he kept a clear head when it came to horses, and he soon had the stallion calmed down. Esme caught her breath and relaxed against Tommy’s chest. It took a second too long for him to loosen his grip on her waist and for his chin to leave her shoulder, but Esme didn’t mind.

They soon were at the door to the house she shared with John, who burst out into the street the second that they rode up.

Tommy dismounted first. “I have brought your wife home, Brother. I need a word with you.”

They walked a few feet away and Tommy bent down, his mouth close to John’s ear. He murmured something that made John’s head snap up. John glared at Tommy defiantly. Tommy put his hand on the back of John’s neck and pulled him closer again. He hissed something into John’s ear and John nodded his resignation to whatever Tommy had said.

Tommy returned to help Esme down, and once she was on the ground he faced her. “I don’t think you’ll have any trouble out of him for a while.”

“I don’t need you to fight my battles, Thomas Shelby.” Esme snapped, immediately regretting her harsh tone. “But, thank you. For everything,” she said with a much softer voice.

Once inside the house, John started babbling a stream of apologies. Esme held her hand up to him, and said, “Just leave it, John. I’ll be up in a bit.”

John went up the stairs, and Esme fixed herself a glass of whiskey. She swirled the amber liquid and smiled. It smelled like Thomas. Tomorrow, she would be John’s faithful and loving wife, but tonight, in John’s bed, she’d close her eyes and imagine herself getting up to a little devilment.

(Look here for Chapter 6)

[poeticandvaguelysweet]

Til Kingdom Come

Jurassic World

Summary: Claire Dearing had been lucky that her father never arranged a marriage for her. But, when her brother sells her off to the Grady’s as a trade deal in a peace treaty the pressure is on to love her husband for personal happiness, bare heirs for survival and keep her sanity intact in a kingdom she was always warned contained nothing but cruelty. 

Part: 1/?

Words: 2,340

Whomp. Here it is. So, this isn’t the continuation of #208 y’all have been looking for. But, it’s something hopefully just as exciting. A royal AU. Inspired by Game of Thrones ... but I can’t really call it a GOT AU anymore. I have 9 chapters written. Will post one a week, not too sure how many parts until it’s completed. We’ll see what happens. 

Disclaimer: I did take a few names from GOT but they are in no way related to the characters that bore them. I was just watching the show and trying to think up era-appropriate names at the same time. AND although this is a period piece my language in some places may not display that. This is fanfic people. I’ve put in quite a few hard yards but y’all will live if I use terminolgy that didn’t exist in this fantasy time. 

AO3

TIL KINGDOM COME - PART ONE

Life, as far as Claire Dearing knew it, was full of trade deals. One thing swapped for another in order to gain something better than what one previously had. She was supposed to understand that things were not permanent. What she had in her life was not always guaranteed and with that came her place amongst her father and eldest brother. As the youngest, her father kept her tucked behind his legs where no prying Lord could lay his eyes on her. He kept her for as long as he could, sending away her brothers and only sister to families across the four kingdoms while he held onto Claire.

She considered herself lucky in some ways, to be the last remaining of her father’s children. Treasured enough that he had not sent her away to some horrid, cold castle and an unforgiving man. At least her brothers got beautiful wives, Merrick marrying for love rather than advantage. She thought, perhaps, she could do the same; her father keeping her around on the off chance that Claire would find someone to marry closer to home. She didn’t. Claire was far more interested in the inside of her brother’s war room than the villages and the men within the castle's beyond. The fact of the matter was, Claire had to marry rich. As a woman, she needed her husband’s fortune to keep her comfortable, a fact she loathed when Merrick married Alyse, the daughter of a fisherman who had been trading in the citadels docks since they were children. It was outrageously unfair that her brothers had the pick of the crop, free to do as they pleased with their lives. Hers, although protected still remained under her father’s control.

Time ran out on her, good fortune drying up on the very day her father told her she would be wed. He was sending her away, marrying her off without consulting her first. The man was a ruffian, the soon to be king of his father’s kingdom on a wooded peninsula overlooking the ocean but not separate from thick forests. The Grady’s were to be feared, rough men who were unforgiving, breeding soldiers; men drawn to blood and war. They also bred wolves, large beasts stronger and taller than the woodland variety, rumoured to have fought alongside the Gods at the dawn of time. She had heard, if her memory served her correctly, that the prince kept four by his side for companionship on and away from hunting trips.

The Grady’s only held the crown due to a bloody battle, ripping the grounds from its previous owners a small decade before Claire had even been born. They kept to themselves choosing their battles wisely as they sneered and snarled at the opposition trying to forgo the bloodshed they had drenched the world with. Claire didn't buy it and until recently, neither did her father. He had sworn black and blue that Merrick was not to bargain with them. Her brother didn’t listen, now King, he could make his own decisions.

‘Leave the Grady’s be,’ her father had croaked, ‘They will keep to themselves if you do not provoke them’.

Merrick always did as he pleased. That was partly why their father stepped down as King. No man wanted to lose his title before his time but Rickon Dearing knew if he didn’t he would lose his life at the hands of his crown motivated son. The Grady’s would pass as a great asset. They were war mongers, blood hungry, their dominant traits lying dormant for half a decade. Merrick deemed them safe because they had not caused distrust amongst the Dearing’s in recent years despite their history being full of death. Her family held the throne for fifty years. Her brother was sure they would make solid allies given the right persuasions. Claire was it. Her father's last daughter still unmarried. Merrick’s own daughter was far too young to be traded off in a marriage deal. If her brother could avoid sacrificing his four-year-old, then he would do what he must to ensure it.

‘You're too old to still be hiding behind Father’s protection, Claire.’ Merrick had been stern, glaring down his nose at the young woman. ‘I can't let you stick around, arguing about whether you are eligible to go to war or not. Be thankful we’re not marrying you to the King of the East. It’s his son who will be your groom.’ She should have been thankful that her life was not going to be tied to a withering old man. Young or old, he was still a Grady and Claire didn't want that.

She had no choice. Her brother made arrangements for her, going behind their desperate father’s back as the older man begged there be some other way. Claire had been perturbed but not concerned until her father started to show panic.

‘Claire is my last daughter, Merrick. The baby! Please, don't send her away. She’s all I have left of your mother.’

Her brother showed no remorse. ‘Go with her then.’ He had dismissed their father as Rickon stood beside his daughter’s chair.

‘I will not live with a Grady!’

‘So be it! But, she will become one of them and she will give them heirs.’ Merrick threw a look towards her, the same sort of threatening look he would throw her way when she had misbehaved as a girl. If she did not comply with her brother’s wishes he would make her pay. There was no use in making everyone’s lives difficult just for her stubborn nature. She would hurt in return. It was her family’s livelihood at stake. If she did not accept this marriage, the Grady’s would retaliate taking what they felt would be an acceptable payment in turn.

They all knew it would mean death. The last thing Claire wanted was to end the lives of her family members for her own selfish and stubborn pride.

[...]

She barely had time to kiss her niece and nephew goodbye before her clothes and trinkets were packed into trunks and sent for the road ahead of her. The journey was six weeks long, the sun rising and falling on their travels too many times as Claire lost count in her boredom.  

A few of her brother’s men escorted her, joining Claire and her handmaid on the long road, all involved in the trade. Some had promised Merrick that they would stay with the Grady’s for a few years, watching over Claire’s place there as they learnt as much as they possibly could about the other house and its armies. They were to gain intelligence on their new allies in case the tables turned. Claire didn’t find it reassuring that her brother thought so little of their loyalty, prepared for the second shoe to drop if the tarts at her wedding turned sour.

She would make this man the happiest he had ever been if only to spite her brother’s doubt. Claire Dearing could single-handedly keep the peace between The Kings of the East and her family, The Keepers of the Four Kingdoms.

The Citadel had been her home all eighteen years of her life. Claire knew every inch of the city and it’s passages secret or not. She had not been allowed to run too freely amongst the commoners, but there were occasions when her handmaids would lose sight of her, missing hours at a time, where Claire found herself exploring her options in her concrete home. The second she laid eyes on Grady land, the King’s Guard pointing out the large mountain ranges draped in green, declaring their feet on her new home soil, she felt lost.

‘This place will never be home to me.’ She hissed, astride her horse and indifferent. Home was the city, paved streets and neatly stacked houses. Home was the sea at her doorstep, the docks rumbling with new shipments from far off lands and travellers eager to catch a glimpse of her brother; The King.

Grady territory was wet. Damp with fresh rain and dew from the trees. She had never seen so much green free roaming without interruption of a garden bed or stone pavers. This was wilderness, wild and unconfined. Claire would be lying if she didn’t admit that she adored it just a little. It was beautiful in it’s rugged, wild and untouched way.

Grady men met them a day’s ride to the castle, trying to muster up good graces and to provide a loyal escort on the final hours of Claire’s journey. They were kind enough. Tall men with wide frames and grubby faces. They wore less than what her men did, a few not wearing shirts at all as their skin glistened in the sunlight. Most of them stank enough she did not want to get too close to them. Instead, Claire watched them, eyes boring into the back of their heads as they road ahead, leading the way as to not see their soon to be princess into the wrong hands of the villagers. Her brother told her there was nothing to fear in going to The Grady’s, they would treat her like she was more gold than they had ever seen. But, seeing the land stretch out before her, castle coming into view as the sun began to set, Claire couldn’t help but feel scared. She was sure her life was safe in the hands of these clearly capable men, they were taller and wider than that of Merrick’s guards. They would certainly be able to hold themselves in a fight. But, what if they turned on her?

Claire couldn’t help but think of her sister and the letters Karen would send. Things had been wonderful for her sister, at first, she was hesitant in her new home but her husband was friendly and willing to dote on her. It had been years since Karen left, so many changes in the leaves Claire needed both hands to count them on. Things had changed between Karen and Scott. She promised he didn’t hurt her, they had just managed to grow distant, her husband seeking out the beds of whores rather than the one Karen had warmed and filled with two sons.

It was bound to happen. The Grady’s would grow bored of her straight shoulders and tight corsets. It didn’t take Claire much to notice she was entering a vastly different world, wet heat pressing down on her as the humidity grew denser closer to the castle walls. She would not last long there unless she could make it work.

Her new home was large, spreading wider than she could see. It was an old fortress from the days of the old wars, from a time when The Grady’s preferred to live as primitive barbarians, smashing skulls together and scavenging for shelter. They had come a long way and Claire had not failed to notice. She could not recall who held the claim of this place before The Grady’s stepped in.

She couldn’t think about how many hands the old stone changed as they approached, horses hooves clipping against the dirt roads. They slowed, men on horses in front of her dismounting as they approached. A small welcoming party had gathered, mostly staff by the looks of things greeting Claire with eager smiles as one stepped forward to help her from her horse. They were excitable, women mostly, with bright grins and hushed voices behind hands.

‘Excuse us, Lady Claire, it has been too long since we last had a woman to serve.’ The eldest stepped forward, a middle-aged woman with greying hair and soft features. Next to Grady reared men, the women seemed just as commanding, Claire felt small surrounded by the. They were thick boned creatures with wide hips and kind smiles. They weren’t like the women of the city, their clothes dark, hair curled into buns and braids on their heads up and away from their necks.

From memory, Claire couldn’t recall Theon Grady having daughters. She couldn’t even remember what had happened to his wife. So far as her father was concerned, Claire did not need to bother herself with Grady history. It would have done her good now to know exactly which paths this family walked; a family she was about to become a part of.

‘Where is he?’ She asked, trying to keep the scoff out of her voice as Claire looked upon the faces in the courtyard. There was no man there, none that seemed fitting to be a King in Waiting. The woman who spoke smiled softly, introducing herself softly as Mae as she curtsied for Claire and her handmaid Zara.

‘He’s away, my lady. But, don’t you stress. Lord Owen will be back in time for your wedding.’

‘You’re telling me he’s not here?’ She asked, trying to keep her composure. It would be no use if she showed herself to them as a spoilt little child upon first meeting. They wouldn’t take her seriously after that. It would be an assassination of her character and an unjust portrayal of her true self. To be perfectly honest, Claire was hot, sticky heat making her skin sweat and her hair frizz. Her clothes felt heavier than they had ever felt before and her limbs drooped. The journey had taken her energy and now the weather was taking the last of her strength. She was impatient to meet the Grady son she would marry, her brother promising it wouldn’t be Old Man Theon, still clutching his place on his Eastbound throne.

She felt she had every right to be infuriated that her future husband could not be back in time to greet her. They were supposed to have several days to get to know each other before their hands were tied in marriage. Claire had hoped they would come to know and like each other before their wedding night and what was expected after. Owen was already setting himself off on the wrong foot.